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strangerstilinski · 5 months

Note

sharing a stiles thought i keep thinking bc brainrot and sharing bc you’d appreciate it

he would beg you to do the spiderman kiss and immediately fall as soon as it actually happens

i know this wasn't technically a request of any sort but oh boy did it tickle at the nearly nonexistent inspiration in my brain, so.. here we are. just a very short fluffy little thing that made me feel all warm inside. x

You tug at the sleeves of your sweatshirt in an attempt to cover your cold knuckles as you take an overly-cautious step out onto your front porch, hugging one arm around your ribs as a shiver wracks your body all while your grip tightens around your cell phone.

“Stiles, if this is one of your jokes-” A sigh escapes you, a wispy cloud of fog pushing past your lips as you look around for your boyfriend. There's a familiar blue jeep parked at the edge of your driveway, but the owner doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight. You tut softly into the phone, “I think your pranks are cute, baby. Really, I do, but I need to study-”

Your socked feet carry you that much farther outside, shuffling slow across the smooth planks of wood underfoot while you cautiously scour the yard for his familiar figure.

“I'm right-” There's a scratchy crackle against the speaker just as you hear a scuffle from somewhere to your left. Stiles' yelp meets your ears twice, once from the dark emptiness at the edge of the porch, and then again half a second later through the phone.

It's just as you're just stepping up to the edge of the porch, hand falling to grip the railing as you squint into the darkness, when something drops down from above and makes you flinch back with a small scream.

“Here!” Stiles grins, the momentum of his body still making him sway forward and backward for a moment as he hangs upside down in front of you. He's dangling from the roof overhanging the porch, his torso curled around the edge in a way that can't possibly be comfortable, but he's grinning like he couldn't be more pleased with his current position.

“Stiles!” You scold, reining in the urge to punch his shoulder and instead redirecting the motion to simply grip at his biceps when he reaches out for you. The slow motion of his swinging slows under your steady hold, “Are you insane? You're banned from climbing on the roof! We- We have talked about this-”

“Neh, eh, eh,” He interrupts with a goofy grin, “The rule was that I can't climb on Scott's roof-”

While you don't remember the specifics, you have no doubt that your boyfriend would have been clever enough to worm some sort of loophole into his previous promise. Your nose scrunches up in annoyance while your heart continues thumping wildly in your chest, both from the scare and from the panic pooling in your gut as you watch your boyfriend shuffle and slip another inch or so over the edge of the roof.

“Sti, babe, please,” You whine anxiously, fingers digging into his arms a little meanly, “Stop moving around, alright? You're going to fall!”

“I'm not gonna fall,” Stiles rolls his eyes and he reaches a hand out to brush against your cheek, his pinky brushing the apple your cheek as his thumb presses lightly into your jaw, “Come on, don't you wanna know why I'm up here?”

You sigh softly, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips while you release him with just one hand so that you can run your fingers through his floppy hair where it hangs loosely beneath his head. Your hand scrapes lightly though the soft strands, your cheek pushing imperceptibly into the warmth of his palm.

“Why are you on the roof, Sti?” You ask begrudgingly.

“Spiderman.”

“Spiderman?” You repeat slowly.

“Spiderman!” Stiles grins, “You know, the first one. The Raimi one-”

“Like.. Andrew Garfield?” You clarify with furrowed brows.

“What?” Stiles scoffs, “No! Toby Maguire! Baby, we watched them together-”

He looks appalled, mouth gaping just slightly in incredulity.

“Well, we watched the Andrew Garfield ones together too-” You defend with a small laugh, amusement filling your chest at just how worked up he seems to be getting by your mistake.

“The first one!” Stiles repeats in a huff, “Because that's the one where it's raining and he saves MJ and he's hanging upside-down in the alley and she pulls his mask down to kiss him as a thank you-”

“Ooh, a wet, New York City alleyway,” You tease, “How romantic.”

Stiles groans woefully, “This was supposed to be romantic. You are totally ruining this for me, right now, you know-”

His words do make you feel a little bad. He'd clearly put some thought into the idea. He'd climbed all the way up onto the roof of your porch, though you're still not quite sure how — there's no ladder in sight.

You plaster a sweet smile on your lips, slipping your feet up onto the rung at the bottom of the railing to boost you up another few inches, until your nose is level with Stiles' chin.

“I'm sorry, Stiles,” You murmur softly, chin tipping toward your chest so you can look into his eyes, “You wanted a big, superhero movie kiss?”

His adam's apple bobs when he swallows, his body reacting naturally to the familiar teasing lilt in your voice, “Uh huh.” He nods.

“Well gee,” You sigh wistfully as you drag a finger up the side of his cheek in a slow trail toward his mole-speckled neck, “You are awfully brave for climbing up there. And you did do it with the intention of wooing me..” Your teeth pull lightly at your lower lip and his eyes track the movement, “Maybe I could show you just how brave and sweet I think you are. Maybe.. I could show you how grateful I am, that you were willing to risk getting hurt for me.”

Stiles is nodding along, eyes wide with anticipation and cheeks flushed dark from a combination of your words and the blood rushing to his head in his current position, “Yeah.” He rasps weakly.

Your fingers curl around the back of his neck, your lips catching against his in just a light brush of skin, teasing. His lips part beneath your own and your warm breath mingles in the narrow space, the scent of spearmint overtaking your senses for a moment.

The hand on your cheek drags you closer in a gentle nudge as he grows impatient, and your mouths meet in a slightly awkward press of lips. Something about the new angle with such a familiar action scratches at the back of your brain, and you tilt your head just slightly when your mouths separate and rejoin only a second later.

Stiles presses his thumb softly into the hinge of your jaw in a silent request for you to open your mouth, his tongue catching on your lower lip before pressing inside and meeting your own.

Your tangle your fingers in the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. Another wet peck to his lips has him shuffling forward to chase your mouth the moment you ease back, and he seems to slip just a little further over the edge of the roof.

“Careful.” You warn softly.

“'m always careful.” Stiles whispers, his upturned nose pushing into your jaw as he kisses you again.

You lean back after allowing him another moment of indulgence. Stiles seems to follow the movement again, pitching forward as you go back like you're two magnets, but this time around he slips just a bit too far to allow for recovery. You can only watch on with wide eyes while he comes tumbling down from the roof and crashes into the bushes below with a small scream.

“Oh my god!” You gasp, leaning over the railing to watch your boyfriend roll into the grass with a groan, “Are you okay?”

“Never better.” Stiles manages weakly, voice hoarse.

“You sure about that, Spiderman?” You tease hopefully as you watch him drag himself to his feet, brushing himself off to free the small bits of branches and leaves and dirt that are now clinging to his clothes.

“Yeah,” Stiles sighs, “Yeah, 'm good.”

“Good,” You grin, beckoning him closer when he finishes ridding himself of yard debris and meets your eye, “You should get yourself a mask though. I hear masked superheroes tend get more than just kisses and I have to admit, I think it's kinda hot-”

“Noted,” Stiles agrees with wide eyes, tripping over his own feet and the porch stairs as he rushes toward you, “Fucking- Shit, I am so on it.”

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madzlang · 7 months

Note

what about this: reader is on what they thought was an innocent facetime call with andrew garfield spider-man but it turns out he's 'secretly' been jacking off 🙊🙊

contrary to popular belief, I do indeed respond to my asks 😋

nah, but actual, lovely request, and I’ve been thinking about this one for a while, soo hope you like it ♥️

Keep Going…

(andrew) peter parker x fem!reader

warnings: male and female masturbation, phone sex, squirting, that’s like it

“And get this, he spilled coffee on me then yelled at me for trying to leave to clean it up.” She rambled on, lying on her left side as she spoke to her boyfriend.

“Pete? You listening to me?” She muttered, flipping around to lay on her stomach, holding her phone under her.

“Mhm, always do, sweetheart.” She heard his out of breath voice from her phone, furrowing her brows at the sound of it.

“You okay, Pete? You don’t sound too well.” She spoke worriedly.

Suddenly he moved the phone to in front of his face, which was flushed red. “I’m fine, babe. Promise.”

“You don’t look well, either. Are you sick?” She groaned. “I told you just because you’re Spider-Man doesn’t mean you can be out late at night during winter when it’s raining-“

“I-I’m not sick, baby.” He shook his head, his fluffy hair bouncing.

“Well, what’s wrong with you?” She asked, pouting slightly.

“Nothin’. Nothin’s wrong.” He shook his head again making her huff and bury her head into her pillow.

“Hey, hey, baby. Don’t stop talking, ‘kay? Keep going.” He mumbled, his voice sounding slurred, and when she looked back at her phone only his neck was visible due to his head being thrown back.

“Pete.” She whined and she heard him mutter ‘fuck’ under his breath. “What’s wrong?”

He groaned, chewing on his bottom lip before he looked back at the screen, his brown eyes hazy.

“You sure you wanna know?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

She nodded enthusiastically, attentively looking at her phone screen.

He swallowed harshly before moving his phone down to around hip level.

Her jaw dropped as she saw his veiny hand wrapped around the base of his dick pop up on her screen.

“Pete.” She muttered breathlessly.

“Shit- yeah, Princess?” He groaned loudly, her eyes going wide when she saw his hand start to move up and down, his thumb running over the tip of his dick.

“You- you’re jerking off.” She whispered, trying to pull her eyes away from the sight but she couldn’t.

“Mhm. To the sound of your voice, baby. Been too long since I’ve had you wrapped around me.” He groaned out, a bead of pearly precum dribbling down the length of his cock.

“Pete.. have- have you done this before?” She whispered, holding back the urge to slide a hand down and into her pyjama shorts.

“Mhm” he groaned out, his hand moving even faster. “That okay, babe?”

She whimpered, hearing the loud squelching of his hand around his dick and watching as the tip of his cock got redder and the veins got more prominent. “Yeah.. yeah, it’s okay.” She whispered out, her mouth salivating.

His pearly teeth bit into his pink bottom lip. “Baby, touch yourself. You know you want to.” He spoke lowly, his hips thrusting into his fist.

She whimpered and nodded, moving the camera down to hip level, just like how he has it, and wiggled her pyjama shorts off, leaving her in an oversized shirt (that belonged to Peter) and light pink panties that had a dark patch at her entrance.

He groaned, seeing the wet patch on her panties, his hand moving even faster around his dick. "Fuck, you're so fucking wet."

"All for you." She whined out, propping her phone up with a pillow so the could use both hands to pull her panties down, throwing them somewhere in the room.

"Shit, look at that. Fuckin' cunt fluttering around nothing, huh? Bet you want my cock, right?" He spoke lowly, taking his hand off his dick to lightly roll his balls in his hand, staving off his impeding orgasm.

She whined, nodding her head and running her index finger through her folds, tracing her slit as her arousal practically dripped down onto her bedding.

"Stick a finger inside your pretty pussy for me, yeah?" He grumbled, his hand wrapping back around his dick.

She whimpered and followed his orders, circling her entrance with her middle finger before easing inside of her, a sharp moan escaping her lips.

“There ya go.” He groaned, his eyes fixed on her finger as it disappeared inside of her pussy, his hand movements speeding up.

She whined, curling her finger up inside of her, her other hand playing with her clit.

“That’s its princess. Keep fucking yourself. Imagine it’s me, yeah? Stick another finger inside your pretty cunt, baby.” He groaned out, his hips bucking up to meet the movements of his hand.

She whimpered, moving her ring finger to join her middle finger in her movements inside of her.

His voice faded out in her ears as the white hot pleasure built in her lower stomach.

“Pete- Petey!” She whined out, her eyebrows furrowing.

“What? You’re gonna cum already? Fuck, desperate, aren’t you?” He groaned, tilting his head back for a second before looking back at his phone screen.

“Mhm!” She whined, feeling her arousal drip down her ass cheeks and onto the her sheets even more.

“Fuck, yeah, cum for me, baby. Gush around those fingers.” He grumbled, feeling his thighs tense as his own orgasm approached.

She whimpered, her fingers rubbing her clit faster as her legs shook and she threw her head back into the pillows, a large gush of liquid exiting her body and a shaky moan exiting her body.

He groaned in response, biting his lip as the camera on her end got blurry, her squirt covering her phone. His hand tightened around the base of his cock as he also came, closing his eyes as his cum covered his stomach, chest, and hand.

She whimpered, taking her fingers out of her pussy and looking at her phone, her eyes widening as she used her (his) shirt to wipe off her phone screen so it wasn’t covered in her squirt anymore.

“So, baby, what happened after your boss yelled at you?” He asked lazily, bringing his phone back up to his flushed face, staring at her through the phone.

i never know how to end these ahh

#peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #fem reader #andrew garfield

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3vergr3en · 1 year

Text

Earn it.

_______________________

Author’s Note: I have the biggest, most fattest crush on Andrew Garfield. LIKE LOOK AT HIM. Also, if there are any mistakes, I did not proofread this 💀

Summary: Harry is hosting a birthday party for his best friend, Peter. Everything runs smoothly until Y/N’s best friend back in high school shows up and start flirting with the female. Oblivious Y/N doesn’t think much of it, being used to such playful manner. But Peter can see through the man’s facade, and he doesn’t like it one bit.

Paring: Fem!Reader x TASM!Peter Parker

Genre: Smut with little plot.

Word Count: 2.9K

Additional Info: Public sex, unprotected sex (PLEASE WRAP IT), nipple play, orgasm control, Peter has an obvious breeding kink, cream pie, choking, teasing, profanity, name-calling, humiliation, dirty talk, jealousy, established marriage.

_______________________

“Thank you for coming! Please grab some champagne and the appetizers are over towards the left.” You inform with a smile, using your hands to help direct the couple towards the section. You continued on saying the same phrase for the majority, apart from times where you had thrown in a couple different sentences such as, ‘You guys look amazing tonight”, ‘Oh my, I haven’t seen you in so long!’, and ‘Oh thank you, Peter helped me pick out this dress.’

But one familiar fellow caught your attention, “Oh my god, Mark is that you?” You question as your jaw hung low in shock, your eyes widening twice in size. “I’m surprised you still remember me.” The black-haired man laughs as he walks up to you, extending his arms out as an indication for a hug, “How could I not? We spent our entire high school years together!” You exclaim, embracing the latter into your arms. You received a nice, firm hug from the male in return. “God, I missed you.” Mark chuckles, using one of his hands to caress the bare skin on your back through your long, velvet black backless dress. “I missed you as well. I tried contacting you after graduation, but—“ You pulled away.

“I got a new phone, and all of my contacts didn’t save unfortunately.” Mark explains as he held your hands in his, his thumbs rubbing in circular motions on the back of your hands. “You look gorgeous, by the way. You’ve always have been, since high school to now.” Mark compliments, leaning down to kiss your hand. “Oh stop it, Mark. You’re too much. What happened to the Mark that would tease me 24/7?” You laugh, using one of your hands to playfully slap at the man’s shoulder.

You fail to notice a presence coming up behind you, growing concerned when there was an abrupt change in Marks demeanor. “Mark? What’s wrong?” You furrowed your eyebrows as your frowned before looking over your shoulder only to see Peter glaring at Mark with a tightly-clenched jaw. “Oh hon’! Have you seen what Harry has done for your birthday? The ballroom is absolutely stunning! Also, I want you to meet Mark, he was my best friend throughout high school,” You smiled, wrapping your arms around your husband’s arm, oblivious to the tension between the two men. “And Mark, meet my husband, Peter.” You inform, feeling one of Peter’s arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

“Husband?” Mark questions, raising one of his eyebrows. “Yeah. Dated for 4 years, been married for 5.” Peter stated, holding the hand out that the wedding band around your ring finger. “Oh, well, congratulations. I’m really happy for you, Y/N. But I’m just saying, I would’ve gotten a better ring for a beautiful woman like you.” Mark examines the ring, then to look at Peter with a smug look.

“Pfft, I forgot how much of a jokester you are, Mark.” You grin. “Hey, love? Can you go grab me some water?“ Peter asks with a nonchalant tone, not breaking eye contact with the man that stood in front of him. “Hm? Oh yeah, of course.” You nod, excusing yourself before walking off.

“The fuck is your problem?” Peter mutters, stepping closer towards Mark. “Nothing. It’s just sad to hear that my girl’s married off to some other dude. She looks ravishing tonight. The way the dress perfectly hugs her waist and extenuate her curves. How is she? Is she tight? Does her tits feel soft?” Mark whispers, the corner of his lips curling up into a smirk. Peter balled up his fists, clenching tightly to the point where his knuckles were turning white. As he opened up his mouth to say something, a pair of heels clicking against the smooth, tiled floor pulled him out of his frenzy.

“Unfortunately, they didn’t have water at the moment. They only had champagne, if that’s okay, love?” You explained, each hand holding two glasses. “I got one for you, Peter, and one for Mark.” You smiled. “That won’t be necessary, hon’.” Peter chuckles, grabbing both glasses. Before you could get a word in to ask why, your hands flew to cover your mouth as you watched Peter pour the beverages straight onto Marks head. Peter then handed you the empty glasses, pecking your cheek before turning around to face Mark once more, only to land a hard blow right across the males face. “Oh my god, Peter!” You gawked, immediately placing the glasses on a nearby table prior to rushing over to pull the brunette away from the half insensible Mark. “What is wrong with you?” You question with wide eyes, you look around to see people judgmentally staring at you three.

“You didn’t hear the vile things he said about you.” Peter mutters, shaking the hand that is now starting to bruise up. “Security!” You call out, “Please escort this gentleman out.” As two able-bodied men in black suits walked over, you pointed your hand at Mark who could barely stand. “Thank you.” You say to the two men, smiling.

You then felt a hand gripping at your wrist, dragging you through the crowd of people and up the carpet staircase. “Peter, where are you taking me?” You whispered loud enough for only Peter to hear. “Shut up.” You heard Peter respond back in a churlishly manner. You were bewildered. You don’t even know what Mark could’ve said to have Peter all riled up. You didn’t know where Peter was taking you in all honestly, there was a lot of turns and all you knew was that your feet were starting to hurt. It’s not easy to walk relatively fast in 5 inch heels.

“Peter, can you please slow down? My feet are starting to hurt—“ You gasped as you were suddenly grabbed at your shoulders, turned around to have your back pushed up against a large glass window. “Peter-!” You slightly yelp, looking around frantically. You saw you two were in a short hallway, the lights were fairly dimmed. You look over your shoulder to look through the glass windows and see you were approximately 15 stories high. “Peter, what are you doing?” You whisper, looking up at the male with furrowed eyebrows.

“Are you really that fucking stupid, huh?” Peter spats out. He grabs both of your wrists with one of his hands, pinning it above your head. The other hand now clenched around your jaw. “I don’t understand—“ You whimper when you felt Peter’s thigh force your legs apart. “He was flirting with you. Maybe you’re just too fucking dumb to even notice.” Peter says through gritted teeth. “Touching you.. putting his lips on you,” He scoffs, his hand that held your jaw now making its way down to your neck. “He had the fucking nerve to ask such vulgar questions about my lovely wife,” Peter laughs, tightening his grip around your throat, “But he wont ever know. He’ll live out the rest of his life wondering how tight you feel.. how soft these wonderful tits are.. and how much of a slut you sound like when you’re getting fucked.” Peter whispers into your ear, his thigh inching closer to your aching cunt.

You felt your body becoming hotter. But you also felt yourself becoming wetter with each passing second. “I’m sorry, Peter. Please..” You gasp out, bucking your hips up, trying to grind against Peter’s thigh for some sort of friction. “Look at my pathetic little whore, trying to rub herself on me. Tell me, love, what do you want?” Peter asks, loosening his grip around your throat. “Please fuck me..” You whine, shortly gasping afterwards when Peter finally pressed his thigh up against your clothed pussy. “More. Beg for it.” Peter orders. You began moving your hips forward and backwards, grinding against the soft material of the suit. Small whimpers slipping out of your mouth as you finally gained the friction you’ve been wanting. But it wasn’t enough, you needed more. You itched for more.

“Need more..” You breathed out, shaking your head when Peter had pulled his thigh away, “I want you inside of me.” You moaned when you felt Peter’s hand cupping your sex. “Do you deserve to be fucked, love?” Peter asks as he grabbed a handful of the lace material before ripping it off of you. You gasped at the sudden chill waving at your soaked cunt. He balled it up in his fists before stuffing it into his pant pocket. “Did you fucking hear me?” Peter asks, using the hand that bonded your wrists together, to now wrap around your throat once again, pinning you against the clear, cold glass surface. You nod frantically, mouth a gape, “Yes! Yes! I deserved to be fucked, oh please.. please fuck me.” You pleaded desperately when Peter’s fingers glided a long stripe in between your folds, stopping when the pad of his fingers landed perfectly on top of the clit. “Gotta quiet down, hon’.“ Peter huffs out, rubbing the small bundle of nerves in a slow, agonizing pace. “Please! Peter, faster!” You cried out, unable to take any more teasing. “What the fuck did I just say?” Peter muttered, momentarily pinching the airways on your throat. His fingers now starting to pick up the pace, rubbing in circular motions against the small knob. You moan, your hips bucking up into Peter’s hand. “Oh shit, yes!” You whimper, biting down on your bottom lip in attempt to try to lower your voice.

You whine in protest when Peter pulls his hands away from your body. He then pinched at the straps of your dress, pulling it down your arms, allowing the upper part of the dress to slip off your chest. Your breasts now full out on display, your nipples hard. “Another thing Mark will never know..” Peter breathes out as he turns you around. The front of your body now exposed to the outside world. His hands snaking around your torso till it reached your tits. He cupped them into his hands, kneading the soft, warm flesh. You hold onto Peter’s wrists, tilting your head backwards to rest onto the male’s broad shoulder. He slightly grazed his index fingers against the tip of your erected nipples, chuckling when you twitched against him. “I love how sensitive they are,” Peter whispers into your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. He placed his finger pads onto your nipples, beginning to rub them circular motions. You moan out in delight, squeezing your thighs together. “P-peter,” You whimpered. “Yes, baby. Say my name.” He hums, pinching the buds in between his thumb and index fingers. Twisting it and tugging it very slightly. “Peter!” You moaned out, rubbing your ass against Peter lower half, giggling when you felt his bulge poking through his pants.

“I need to see your pretty face when I fuck my cock into you.” Peter groaned, “Would you like that, baby? Hm? You want my thick cock ramming inside of this pathetic little pussy of yours?” He smirks as he undoes his belt, pulling the pants down enough for him to pull out his erected cock, finding it entertaining watching you fold under him. “Yes! Oh god, yes please! Fuck me, Peter..” You trailed off at the end. Suddenly a wave of boldness came over you, “Unless if I just call Mark right now and have him fuck me instead—“

You cut yourself off with a cry of pure bliss when you felt Peter force himself into you with the help of your wetness as a lubricant. Your hands flew onto the glass, palms spread flat out on the surface as Peter gripped at your hips, pulling out till the tip was barely left in, only to slam himself into you with full force. “Fuck! Peter!” You moaned, your breasts pushed up against the glass window, your chest twitching due to the friction of your nipples rubbing against the surface. “Who can fuck you like this, hm? Who can fuck this pussy?” Peter grunts into your ear, repeatedly slamming his hips against your ass. “You, Peter! Oh fuck, it’s you!” You cry out, already feeling your legs buckling.

You couldn’t think of anything besides the feeling of Peter’s cock ramming into you. Filling you up perfectly. You were already on edge due to the teasing from earlier. You felt like a bucket being filled up, on the brim of tipping over. “Peter, slow down. I’m getting close.” You beg, using one of your hands to reach back and push against Peter’s pelvis. But rather than slowing down, Peter ignored the pleas from his wife and instead thrusted faster, his balls slapping against your cunt. “Oh god! P-please! I’m gonna cum!” You moaned out loud, shaking your head frantically.

Peter abruptly pulls out, catching you in his arms when you’re legs collapsed on themselves. “N-no..” You whined out pathetically when you felt your orgasm was ripped away from you. Peter picks you up in his arms, carrying you to a nearby table that was placed against the wall along the hallway. He sets you down on the marble table, placing himself in between your legs. “Look at me, beautiful. Who makes you this stupid when fucking you?” Peter asks, his tone sweet ironically compared to what he’s asking. “You, Peter.” You smile, wrapping your arms around the male’s neck. “Good girl.” He praises, pecking your mascara stained cheek.

He lines himself up to your gaping hole, pushing in once more, groaning. “Fuck, my baby’s pussy is so warm and tight. Look at it pulling my cock in.” He laughs. Once he fully bottomed out, his hip began snapping against yours. Squelching sounds fills the hallway along with the obscene noises that left your mouth. “I’m going to cum soon, baby.” Peter moaned out. You tightly wrapped your legs around Peter’s hips, locking him in a tight space. “I’m gonna cum in this little pussy of yours. Gon’ fill you up to the brim, fuck!‘M gonna fuck my babies into you.” Peter groans, laughing when he felt you clench tightly around him. “Oh yeah? You like the thought of me fucking my cum so deep inside of you? Getting you pregnant, hm? Your belly round and full of my kids?” He says, “Oh, fuck, yes! Please cum inside of me!” You plead, breasts bouncing with every harsh thrust Peter makes. “I’m.. gonna get you pregnant.” Peter breathes out, his thrusts beginning to get sloppy.

“I-I’m cumming!” You cried out, “Lets come together, love.” Peter moans, his thrusts quickening just for a few moments until it came to a full stop. “Fuck, Y/N!” He says as he came, his cock pulsating inside of you. Thick spurts of white, warm cum shot inside of you. Coating your insides with his seed.

“Peter!” You came straight after. Your eyes rolling back as one last moan that sounded like it came straight from a porno emitted from you. Your legs fully tightening around Peter hips, making sure to squeeze out every single drop of cum from the male. You felt yourself tipping over inside, a wave of pleasure coursing throughout your body, leaving you twitching.

Peter slowly pulls out once he felt himself go limp inside of you. He leaned over to embrace you into his arms, holding you close to him. “Happy birthday, Peter.” You giggle, pecking his cheek. “Thank you, love. Let’s get you fixed up before we go back downstairs, okay?” He suggests, moving a strand of hair away from your face. “But I’m pretty sure they’ve heard you. ‘Oh, fuck, yes! Please cum inside of me!’” Peter playfully mocks. You gasp and punched him in the arm, “Oh shut up!” You whine, hiding your face in Peter’s shoulder. “I hate you.” You mumble, “No you don’t. You love me.” Peter laughs, helping you wear your dress correctly.

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tonyspank · 11 months

Text

HEART

Warnings: Swearing, Frankie, bad writing and a taser?

A/N: Currently writing the next chapter for The Party & The After Party, also this could be read as GN! , there's a few mentions that you're a female tho

Words: 2.7k

Tara Carpenter x Female! Reader

Being Chad Meek's best friend had a lot of benefits. Including, knowing when a party was happening. This is exactly how you found yourself at this house party, dressed up as Spider-Man.

You knew Chad from your football team, he was your quarterback and you were the first female wide receiver to ever play in Blackmore University or the NCAA division in general.

Due to that everyone knew who you were, but you didn't care about the fame or the popularity, you just wanted to enjoy college and get to play football alongside your best friend.

There had been times when people would try to befriend or even date you for your name instead of your actual personality, and it made it hard for you to truly make friends or fall for someone.

Your trust issues began when your ex-girlfriend cheated on you with Frankie. She was the first person (other than Chad) to introduce herself to you and show you around campus.

The two of you started dating about three months after your friendship, and something always felt a little off. It felt as if you were on the same page but on different levels. You wanted to stay out and watch stupid thriller movies and cuddle on the couch while she wanted to go out to parties and show you off anytime she could.

You and Kayla did have a couple of things in common, you got along well, but if anything it was intuitively that you were more like friends or whatever. Sure, you guys were intimate but it still didn't feel right, you were never in love.

And you surely knew she didn't love you.

Especially, after seeing her under Frankie in your own dorm room.

Yeah, that was very disrespectful.

She then proceeded to tell you that she never liked you and only used you for Instagram followers and more friends. Yes, it hurt. But it was better to have her out of your life than to be living with a lie.

After your breakup with Kayla, you thought you'd be sad, but in reality, it just opened up your eyes a bit more. You felt more at ease.

"What's wrong with my sweatpants?" You ask, your voice slightly muffled through the Spider-Man masking over your face.

"I'm telling you I've never seen Spider-Man wear sweatpants," Chad tells you, taking a sip of his drink. You playfully roll your eyes looking over to Ethan for his help, noticing he speaks up.

"Actually, he does in the Miles Morales Spider-Man and Andrew Garfield's Spider-Man did behind the scenes."

"But none of that is live action," Chad argues his case causing you to let out a sigh.

"Regardless of how uncanon my Spider-sweats are." Chad furrows his eyebrows shaking his head as you continue, "I still have the best costume here."

"I think Ethan's outfit is pretty cute," Chad says, motioning to Ethan who smiles in response. You jokingly pinch the curly-haired boys' cheeks, "Yeah, but Ethan's just cute in general."

Ethan slaps away your hand while Chad shrugs nodding in agreement. "I'm going to go bother the lovebirds!" You quickly announce, patting Chad's shoulder before leaving.

You make your way through drunk college students and sweaty bodies before noticing Mindy and Anika cuddled up on the couch, walking over you softly push them apart, sitting right between them.

Mindy sends you a playfully fake smile leaning in close to whisper, "I'm going to fucking beat your ass after this party." She fake laughs afterwards noticing that Anika is watching. You fake laugh as well, but side-eye Mindy in slight fear which she can't see due to the Spider-Man covering your face.

Anika is about to say something but her eyes wander off, worry filling her face. Both you and Mindy follow her view, and you notice a female pirate walking alongside Frankie.

You clench your jaw as Anika voices her worries, "Ohhh, I don't love that." Mindy hums in agreement, Anika quickly gets up, softly grabbing the pirate's arm. She turns around with a smile listening to her friend. "Hey, wanna call it a night?"

The smile is still prominent on her face she looks around before answering, "No, uh. I actually think that I'm still going to hang, but you guys don't have to wait for me."

Frankie speaks up with a smirk on his face, "Don't worry. I'll take care of her, I'm Frankie."

Anika shakes her head, "And I'm spectacularly uninterested in knowing anything about you." Frankie scoffs in response while the female Captain Hook laughs, leaning in as she lowers her voice. "No, dude. Anika, I'm not that bad."

She takes a few steps back, slightly walking away. "But I appreciate you looking out for me." Frankie sends Anika a cocky smile before following the dark-haired girl.

You decide now is the time to step in, "I'm going to go help her." Mindy nods her head, sitting up on the couch as you walk over to Anika.

"I'll follow her. You get Chad." You instruct, Anika mumbles, "Okay." And you both walk off in different directions.

"Aren't you that girl involved in that 'Stab' shit in California last year?" You hear Frankie as, she lets out a chuckle, "No. That's a different pirate."

Standing at the end of the steps you speak up, "Frankie! Hey, why don't we keep the party down here? I'd hate to miss out."

Frankie and the pirate turn around at your voice, and you feel Chad beside you. "I think we're good Y/L/N." He replies, recognizing your voice through the mask.

"Well, Tara's good down here." Chad joins in, and immediately Frankie responds. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch that."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, you did." Chad remarks, trying his best to stay calm. Tara walks down a couple of steps, standing in front of you and Chad. "No, Chad it's fine. I want to."

Frankie walks down too, getting close to Chad's face. "Yeah, see Chad? It's fine she wants to." He turns back around but not before roughly grabbing Tara by her arm, she lets out an, "Ow." and you swiftly grab Frankie by his shirt, pulling him down the stairs.

"Don't fucking grab her like that." You push him away into the wall and a crowd suddenly appears, you don't notice Chad checking on Tara as you're focused on the Frat boy in front of you.

He pushes you back, "Get the fuck off me!" Tara removes herself from Chad's grip walking behind you and gripping your Spider-suit as much as she can, using all of her drunken strength to pull you away from Frankie. "Guys! Guys stop."

Chad angrily steps in, grabbing Frankie by his shirt, and pushing him onto the ground. And as you're being pulled away by Tara, Mindy walks in waving a hand basically telling you to go help Chad.

You glance at Chad then Tara who's shocked at the sight going on in front of you, then at Mindy. You knew Chad could handle himself for a couple of seconds until you got the drunk pirate out of the situation before she hurt herself trying to split up another fight.

"Excuse me!" You shout at the crowd, nearly everyone steps out of your way as you slightly and as softly as you can pull Tara away. Your heart drops when someone suddenly appears in front of you, "Hi! Sorry to interrupt, I'm just going to tase you really quick." Before you could plead your case, you feel a sharp pain in your stomach causing you to drop to your knees.

"Fuck!" You yell out, slapping your hand against the wooden floor. It felt like every muscle in your stomach had a Charlie horse, and you couldn't help but stay curled up on the ground even while Mindy rushed to your side, alongside Tara asking you if you were okay.

Chad was also there too, with a bloody nose. He takes off your mask, showing everyone your squinted eyes, furrowed eyebrows, and your parted lips.

Sam stands there, confused and guilty. Did she tase the wrong person?

"Sam! You tased the wrong person!" Mindy shouts at her. Oh. She did tase the wrong person.

You roll over onto your back, your hands on top of your stomach and you sit up. The group is silent, waiting for your reaction. "Fuck... that really hurt." You mumble, letting out a small laugh after.

Chad smiles, confused but begins laughing with you and everyone soon joins in, helping you up from the ground. As Chad and Mindy both have your arm making sure you were okay Sam walks up, and her face is filled with guilt.

"Holy shit! It's that psycho girl!" Someone yells out from the crowd. Sam sends a slight glare before turning her head back toward you.

"Shit. I am so sorry. I didn't mean to—" You cut her off with a wave, "It's okay." You then tell the twins you're okay, and they reluctantly let you go.

You look around looking for Frankie who definitely deserved the thirty seconds of pain you went through. Noticing he's gone you now focus on Chad, who whips his nose with a smirk on his face.

"I won the fight." He informs you with a jolly smile on his face.

Tara storms in front of the group, in embarrassment and anger at her sister.

"Tara! Will you stop!" Tara doesn't stop but only slightly turns her head to speak to her sister. "I cannot believe you did that, you embarrassed me!" Tara faces the front again, continuing her struts.

"I was trying to help you!" Tara turns around, upset if it wasn't obvious before. "And look what happened!" She raises her voice, motioning to you. Your face heats up in embarrassment, as you scratch your nose.

"You're out of my life for five years then you can't even leave me alone for five seconds!" She shouts, throwing her arms up.

"Because you're not dealing with what happened to us. Have you ever gone to see the counsellor at least once?" You look around the group, seeing Mindy let out a sigh watching the scene unfold in front of her.

"No, and I'm not going to." Sam shakes her head, "Why not!"

"Because I'm uninterested in living in the past like you are." Sam furrows her eyebrows, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Chad then takes in a deep breath, tired of the back and forth between the two siblings. "Hey, guys, come on—" He's unheard or ignored as Tara continues. "It means I'm not gonna let what happen to us for three days define the rest of my life!"

"So you're just going to pretend it never happened?" Tara closes her eyes, trying to calm down, and when she reopens them her tone is softer than before.

"What are you doing here Sam? In New York." Sam scoffs, as Tara continues. "I mean y-you're working two shitty jobs to help with.. rent, whatever, but what's your plan?" She stumbles a bit on her words, and you think it's due to the alcohol in her system.

Sam slightly shakes her head, not knowing what to say as Tara proceeds with her point. "I know what I'm going to do. Okay? Because I'm going to keep going to college, I'm going to get my degree, and I'm gonna live my life."

You twist your lips and shift your weight from one foot to another.

"My life," Tara says, slapping her hand against her chest. "That I know." Sam eyes her sister with a slight furrow in her eyebrows. "You just follow me here and you won't let me out of your sight."

"Just trying to look out for you." Tara speaks up, "I—" but cuts herself off, letting out a sigh as she runs her hands down her face. "I know. I know you are."

"You can't do it for the rest of my life though, you have to let me go." There are footsteps heard coming up, Tara turns her head and before anyone could react or say something, Sam is getting a drink splashed onto her.

The girl yells out, "Murderer!" as her one of friends records. Sam gives the girl a shove causing her to slightly stumble back, quickly Chad and you hold Sam back not wanting her to do anything rash. "Fuck is wrong with you, bitch!"

The girl points at Sam, "You guys should stay away from her. She knows what she did!" Sam pushes Chad away, and Tara joins in with you trying to hold back her surprisingly strong sister. "I didn't fucking do anything!"

"Sure, bitch." The girl says, walking away backwards with her friends.

As the group walks away you stand back waiting for Sam as she rings out her shirt, Ethan takes notice of this, walking back and offering her tissues. She eyes the boy before taking the tissues out of his hand. Ethan walks off once Sam looks at him.

You walk to Sam, offering her your Spider-Man mask, "Uh, it's not a tissue but I'm sure it'll help?" She shakes her head waving it off.

"Also, um. I'm Y/N, and for what it's worth I think you're a good sister for trying." She stares at you a bit before nodding, and you begin walking away following the group.

Before you know it you're standing in the middle of the Carpenter-Bailey's living room, awkwardly. Chad is settling down, taking off his jacket and hat and putting on a t-shirt.

Sam, Tara, and Quinn were all in their selected rooms as the rest of you were in the living room.

"Chad?" He hums in response turning around to face you, "I think I'm going to leave."

"Oh, okay. Need me to walk you home?" He genuinely asks, you shake your head. "Nah, it's fine. Tell Tara and Sam it was nice to meet them."

You wave goodbye to Mindy and Anika who are sitting on the couch in front of you before exiting the apartment.

Moments pass and Tara's back in the living room, looking around. "What are you looking for?" Mindy laughs confused, Tara looked like a lost puppy as she searched around the small apartment.

"Where'd she go?" The two girls and Chad furrow their eyebrows. "Who?" Anika asks.

"Uh, Chad's friend." She utters, embarrassed. Mindy immediately noticed how pink Tara's cheeks were and the paper in her hand. Mindy shoots up from the couch, "What's that?"

Tara's eyes move to Mindy's view, she quickly pockets the folded note. "Nothing! I just felt bad that Sam tased the fuck out of them when they wanted to help me."

Mindy turns her head at Anika and Chad, raising her eyebrows and they instantly get the message. Tara thinks you're cute, and that note would confirm it. "Oh!" Chad says, standing up from his chair. "I could always give it to her."

Tara's eyes leave Mindy and go to Chad, "Really?" She says hopefully, "You wouldn't read it right?"

Quickly he shakes his head, "No. No. No! Of, course not!" He holds out his hand so Tara can give him the note, and she does. Anika watches this from the couch, but her jaw drops when she sees Mindy's hand snatch the note and runs to her with it.

"Mindy!" Tara shouts, trying to run after her but Chad grabs her, and all Tara can do is watch Mindy open her note in, reading it out loud.

"hi! this is tara, the pirate from the party. sorry that we had to meet on such terms, please let me make it up to you, from tara. HEART!" Mindy reads, shouting the last bit.

Chad lets Tara go with a shocked face, and Tara covers her own face in embarrassment.

Everyone's head turns to the door, noticing you standing there. "Hi..." You awkwardly, mumble out. "I forgot my mask." You tell them, pointing at it beside Anika on the couch.

Mindy looks at the mask, then at you. "How long have you been here?"

"Um.." You scratch your eyebrow. "Long enough to accept Tara's proposal." You laugh, with a cheeky smile.

Tara smiles widely, her face nearly as red as a tomato.

#reader insert #jenna ortega x reader #wattpad #jenna ortega #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x you #scream #scream 6 #tara carpenter x fem reader #jenna marie ortega

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storiesforallfandoms · 2 years

Text

marking ~ andrew garfield

word count: 1637

request?: yes!

“andrew garfield leaving hickies and bruises on you, please and thank you. i just want him to mark me and make me his😫😫”

description: in which he likes for the world to know who you belong to, so he marks you as such

pairing: andrew garfield x female!reader

warnings: swearing, slight smut (implied smut, heavy makeout session, some teasing, but no actual gettin it on in this one)

masterlist (one, two)

Waking up after a night with Andrew always meant waking up with some form of body pain. Whether it was your back, your arms, your legs - or rather, between them.

Not in a bad way, of course. These feelings were always just a reminder of the night you had spent together. A very happy, very pleasant reminder.

This day was no different. You and Andrew had gone out with from friends the night before to have some drinks and hang out. After having a couple drinks in you and going from some innocent dancing at the club to...much less innocent dancing, you and Andrew found yourselves back in your bed for a long night of rough yet passionate love making.

Now, waking up the morning after, your head was pounding from the hangover and you could feel your body aching as you rolled over from your side to your back. You stared at the ceiling for a while, not wanting to get out of bed. The spot next to you where Andrew usually slept was empty, but you could hear the shower running in the bathroom so you knew that’s where he was.

After a few moments of just laying around, you managed to pull yourself out of bed and to the bathroom. Your joints cracked and groaned with the movement, but once you were up you started to feel less sore.

You opened the bathroom door without Andrew hearing you and quickly shed yourself of your clothes. You slipped into the shower while Andrew’s back was to you. The warm water cascaded over his body as he rinsed the soapy suds off of him.

You leaned forward to press a kiss against his wet skin. He hummed in response as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Good morning, love,” he said.

“Good morning,” you responded.

He turned in your arms to face you. Droplets of water fell from him and splashed against your face.

“I’m glad to see you can walk this morning,” he teased.

“Not without some pain,” you said. “Not that I’m complaining.”

He smirked down at you and cupped your face. He lowered his lips onto yours, the water running from his face onto yours as you kissed. He moved his lips to your jaw then to your neck. You giggled as his stubble tickled your skin.

You gasped as you felt his teeth nip at your neck and quickly pushed him away.

“Don’t bite me!” you said.

“Why not?” Andrew asked, a playful smile on his face.

“You’re gonna leave marks!”

He raised an eyebrow at you before his eyes travelled down your body. You followed his gaze and gasped as you noticed the red and purple marks along your chest and collarbone.

You quickly jumped out of the shower to look in the mirror. You wiped the steam from the glass and saw the continuation of the trail of marks leading up your neck, including the new one from Andrew nipping at your wet skin.

“Andrew!” you exclaimed.

You heard him chuckle behind the closed shower curtain.

He stepped out of the shower a few moments later as you were still staring in disbelief. He smirked at you as he wrapped a towel around his waist. He tried to kiss you again, but you pushed him away, glaring up at him. This just made him laugh more.

You were glad you didn’t have to go anywhere that day. If you had to go to work you’d be so embarrassed. Or worse: if you had to see your parents.

God, I hope they don’t stop by for a surprise visit.

You had dealt with these markings before, but never like this. Usually Andrew was cautious as to not leave any that would be noticeable. It wasn’t unusual to find hickeys on your chest, stomach, even your back and ass sometimes. But never this many and never in such open places.

While Andrew got ready, you stood in front of the full length mirror in your room, inspecting your body for more marks. Luckily it seemed the ones on your upper half were the only ones left there. Less luckily, you were going to be tasked with figuring out how to cover them for the next few days.

Andrew entered your shared bedroom again. He paused when he saw you, allowing his eyes to linger over your naked frame.

“Well, hello there,” he said. “This is a lovely sight to walk in on.”

“Nuh-uh,” you said, grabbing a nearby robe and covering your body with it. “You don’t get to see this. You left so many marks on my neck! It’s going to take so much to cover them!”

“Wear turtlenecks.”

“It’s summer!”

Andrew chuckled and walked towards you. As angry as you were trying to seem, it was hard to really be that way. Sure, you were annoyed by the fact that he had left so many hickeys in such visible places, but you couldn’t deny how much you loved the British man. You especially loved the lustful look he had been giving you since you got into the shower with him.

“I’m sorry I left hickeys on your neck,” he said, cupping your face again. “I was in the heat of the moment last night and didn’t think about how visible they would be today.”

You sighed and leaned into his touch. “I suppose I can forgive you just this once.”

He smiled and leaned down to kiss you again. It didn’t take long for this kiss to also get heated as his hands wandered over your body before making quick work of pushing the robe off of your shoulders, leaving you bare to him again.

He picked you up and laid you down on the bed, the soft material feeling fantastic against your still somewhat sore body. He broke the kiss to start kissing around your face; first your nose, then your forehead, then your cheeks. You giggled as he continued down your jaw and to your neck, moving to the other side that he hadn’t placed marks on yet. The feeling of his soft lips against your sweet spot was enough to grow a wetness between your legs, until you realized he was sucking on that spot in a way that you knew would leave more marks.

You regained yourself enough to push Andrew away and gave him the best glare you could muster. “Jesus, Andrew! We just talked about this. You can’t keep putting marks on my neck!”

“I’m sorry!”

“No you’re not!”

The sly smile on his face told you that you were right in saying that.

“I don’t mean to make you upset by doing it,” he told you. “And I really wasn’t thinking last night when I put the original marks on you. But when you got in the shower and I saw them, I’ll be honest, it drove me a little crazy.”

You gave him a confused look. “Why?”

He placed his hands on either side of you, leaning over you in a way that pushed you to be laying on your back again. He looked down at you with those brown eyes that you so easily got lost in.

“Because I like to see you marked as mine,” he said, his voice just a tad huskier in that moment. “I liked to see that you were covered in those marks on your neck and knowing it would be hard to cover them. I liked the idea of you maybe slipping up when trying to cover them, or maybe one of the ones on your chest slips out while you’re wearing a lowcut shirt, and someone sees it. I like the idea of you going out marked as mine for the world to see.”

His lips found their way to your neck again, but this time he was truly more gentle. No sucking or bite, just soft kisses over the hickeys that had already been left.

“And I know I shouldn’t do it,” he said between kisses that were now trailing down your chest and stomach. “I know you have to cover them for work or in case you see your family or friends, but I can’t help myself. I just want to keep these marks on you forever. Let everyone know that you’re always mine.”

He had gotten so low that you could feel his warm breath against your aching core. One of your hands had tangled into his hair while the other was gripping the bed sheets beneath you. You were so turned on that the wait to feel his lips and tongue against you again felt like a decade. You wanted him, now.

You were about to pull his face towards you when he broke free from your grasp and stood up.

“But I guess if you don’t want them there anymore, I’ll stop,” he said with a shrug. “I have to go to work now anyways, so I’ll leave you to figure out how you’re gonna cover those.”

You sat up quickly, reaching out to grab his hand. “Wait! Please don’t go yet!”

“I’m sorry love, I have to. I’m going to be late if I stay any longer.”

You whined in response, which earned you another chuckle from him. He cupped your chin and looked into your eyes.

“I promise I’ll fix your issue when I’m home,” he said. “But for now, you’ll just have to take care of yourself.”

You had so many things running through your mind that you wanted to say in response, but you knew it was best to keep your mouth shut. Especially if you wanted him to make you feel good when he got home.

So you just watched him go with a scowl on your face.

What a fucking tease.

#andrew garfield #andrew garfield imagine #andrew garfield x reader #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

754 notes · View notes

psithurista · 2 years

Text

approach shift pt. seven

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 4.1k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: Angst, brief mention of death

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

series masterlist

Bear points her spoon at you, her eyes narrowed. “That fucker.”

You wince. You need to leave if you don’t want to miss your train, but the sooner you get off the stool at the bench, the sooner you have to go outside, and it’s sleeting miserably out there.

“Forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up again.”

“It’s been over a month. Why are you still thinking about him at all? Guy turned out to be a piece of shit. It happens to the best of us.”

You run your tongue over your teeth. Dirty dishes are cluttered in the sink, and the sight makes your skin itchy, especially with the knowledge of the recent cockroach plague that had befallen the building, but you’re out of time to do anything about it now. “I know you’re going to tell me I’m being an idiot, but I just. I can’t stop thinking he wasn’t lying about everything, at least. I mean, if he was fucking around with someone else, why not just say so? I left that door way open for him, you know?”

She speaks around her full mouth, looking down at her phone. “You’re right.”

“I am?”

“I’m going to tell you you’re being an idiot. What’s the big deal with Parker anyway?” She checks off on her fingers. “So he’s tall. He’s got those stupid fucking big brown baby cow eyes. He’s nice.” She injects so much sarcastic venom into the word that you’re surprised it doesn’t slither right out and across the table. “Like you couldn’t find fifty other tall, pretty, nice guys on this block alone willing to rock your shit any night of the week.”

Easy for her to say, you think, glumly.

You’re painfully, tragically fixated on him. You’ve been trying to convince yourself that, logically, most of it’s probably just to do with how much is still unresolved. You don’t have any answers, not even shitty ones.

Of course you’d be stuck on it. Who wouldn’t be?

But despite the occasional waves of fury-tinged sorrow when you let yourself think about it for longer than a few minutes, you just…

You really, really miss him.

You miss the way his eyebrows draw up and together while listening to you talk, and the way he’d always nudge against you when something dumb happened in a movie until you nudged back in acknowledgement, and his terrible one-liners.

You miss how easily he blushes, and how creased his eyes get when he smiles really big.

It’s a disorienting feeling. You’ve been fantasising in equal measure about throwing everything in your fridge at him, and pressing your face to his neck to breathe in the smell of his skin.

You’d get deeper into it, if Bear wasn’t already over talking about it. “I just can’t believe he hasn’t even messaged,” you settle on instead, the small-sound of your voice irritating even to yourself.

She slurps another mouthful of cereal. “Oh shit, they’re remaking Jaws.”

“I gotta go,” you say, throwing back the last tepid third of bitter instant coffee in your mug. “I’ll be home after six if you still wanna have that thing with Chris.”

“Proud of you,” she says, not looking up. “Go cure cancer.”

You wrap your jacket around your lowered head, your shoes clopping loud on the tiles as you rush down the subway stairs and into the dry.

You’ve been trying to make a habit of setting a positive tone for the day on the way to work; a piece of advice you’d gleaned from Googling “get over breakup” one particularly pathetic Sunday morning a couple of weeks back.

The suggestions were embarrassingly self-helpy, and if Bear caught you she’d probably toss your phone out the window.

Now, safely ignored by every other occupant of the train car, you surreptitiously scroll down to tap start on the podcast you’ve been listening to, slipping your earbuds in.

“…it’s important to remember that it’s okay to fall down, as long as we get back up.”

You lean your head back, gently rocking with the rattle of the train. Everything smells like damp ashtray and hotdog water.

There’s a young man sitting opposite you, his legs stretched out into the aisle, reading a paperback. He’s wearing sage brogues with no socks and pants just short enough to bare his crossed-over ankles. You catch a glimpse of the spine: Calvino.

“…each of us has the same dirty geode inside of us, and we just need to polish it until it shines. Your geode is precious and rare, and it is in your hands, women warriors.”

You cringe so hard it’s almost audible, scrunching your face as you hit pause. Maybe you should let Bear throw your phone away.

You look back up in time to see the man across from you quickly averting his eyes back to his book, smiling slightly.

His haircut looks expensive, and you imagine that he’s the kind of guy who’d buy thirty-dollar jars of asparagus and artisan coffee beans for his elaborate cold drip set up. The kind of guy who would probably have an unironic opinion about regatta season.

You’re being unfair, but you can’t help it.

As though he can feel your attention, he looks back up. He smiles again, this time a little more pointedly, tilting his head to one side in a curious, open gesture, as if he’s inviting you to let him in on the joke; whatever it is you’re wincing about.

You lower your face to your phone screen, shy. He’s attractive, and the direction of his smile feels nice, if you’re being honest. But it only lasts a second, and then you’re thinking about a messier haircut, less well-cut jeans, ratty Vans.

You grit your teeth to creaking. You don’t look back up until you reach your stop, slipping quickly past, not slowing until you’re back out under the open, grey air.

Oscorp’s research centre dominates the entire corner of the block. The gardens around the entrance are filled, as always, with visitors taking pictures.

As far as image rebrands go, the garden had been an inspired move. While the tower itself remains staunchly brutalist, the arches of whimsically sculpted greenery bunched around the base soften the lines of cement and glass spearing into the sky.

You hurry up to the main entrance, digging blindly around the clutter in your bag for your ID. You’re not late yet, but by the time you make it through security and up to the lab, you will be.

Nobody looks up from their screens as you finally slip inside the twelfth-floor workroom, letting the heavy door sink soundlessly shut behind you. Doctor Brant’s office door is closed, but considering the entire wall is made of glass, it doesn’t really help your situation.

In an insane stroke of luck, however, he seems to be preoccupied on the phone. His head is slightly bowed, elbow braced on his desk.

You wince, performing a strange tiptoe-dash in your effort to make it across to the other side of the room before you’re noticed.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur, plopping into your seat.

Your desk-neighbour Gary looks up. “Did you say something?”

His skin is the same reddish-pale shade as his moustache and thinning hair. From a distance, it looks like he has an unnatural protuberance of skin growing between his nose and upper lip.

“Oh, I just meant, I’m sorry I’m late.”

He looks at you blankly. “Okay.” He turns back to his screen, where he’s entering observation notes into the record template.

“Okay,” you mouth to yourself.

The research program Doctor Brant heads is one of Oscorp’s longest-running, and the position within it had been highly coveted among the intake of new graduates. You’d heard the wistful envy in the voices of other assistants during corporate orientation, and you’d felt secretly proud.

The thing about respectable, coveted, long-running programs however, is that day-to-day, for the most part, they’re excruciatingly boring.

On today’s agenda: heading into the lab for observations, ordering the saline from ops you forgot to order yesterday, printing fresh labels for your third-round samples, having a wrestling match with the machine when it prints your labels wrong, more observations.

You’re frowning down at a page filled with confusing readouts when Doctor Brant’s office door flies open. He stalks out, a folder under his arm. “This is how we start haemorrhaging funds again,” he’s saying into his cell phone, looking harangued. “How many times will they audit before they believe us? This time, it really isn’t us doing whatever this is.”

You glance around to see if anyone else is paying attention. They aren’t.

“I’m coming up there myself. Hold on,” he adds, quickly, furiously, hanging up. He spots you staring and veers toward you.

You only have to panic for a moment about being busted eavesdropping, then he’s pushing the folder into your hands.

“Legal wants this. Can you scan it through? I’ll be out the rest of the afternoon so shred it when you’re done.”

You look down at it in bewilderment. It’s stamped CLASSIFIED, and there is an edge of slightly-curled continuous printer paper sticking out one side, blue-lined and hole-punched.

He’s squinting impatiently at you, so you snap your attention back and try your hardest to look capable and trustworthy.

“Absolutely. Of course. I got this, no problem,” you say, adding a quick, “thank you,” for good measure.

You wait until he’s gone before flipping the folder open.

At first, it doesn’t make sense. Just rows of digital printed timestamps and letters.

Then you realise you’re looking at observation notes. From an earlier incarnation of this program? You can’t tell.

You sit down, leafing through. The title pages are missing, and you recognise none of the non-standard abbreviations. It’s almost as though it’s written in code.

There’s a string of names at the bottom of the last page, but only one jumps out: PARKER, R., pale-faded but clear as day.

You hunch in your seat.

Of course.

Parker, you are quickly learning, is an irritatingly common surname. You can add ‘old research notes’ to your list of things that are now ruined, right under Sex and the City and jazz.

You spend a few more minutes flipping through the readouts, feeling increasingly deflated as the secret meaning fails to present itself to you.

Someone has signed off in black pen at the bottom of each page; just two letters, N.O., again and again, as though taunting you. If you’d been hoping for some kind of excitement to break up your day, here is your answer: no, no, no.

You feed each freshly-scanned page into the shredder, already bored again, ready for lunch.

People crowd ahead of you as you make your way down to the Wellness Centre.

 Part of Oscorp’s public image overhaul had been to re-establish itself as a forward-thinking, people-focused company. As though renaming the cafeteria and offering pilates and handing out filtered glass water bottles could erase the lingering spectre of accidental death and injury left by the last several decades of Oscorp’s operations.

“What‘s going on today?” you ask the woman typing an email on her phone beside you.

Her eyes flick up for a second before returning to the message. “Free plants, I think.”

You decide dealing with the crowd isn’t worth whatever food is on offer. Turning, you weave your way back toward the elevators and spend the entire trip down fighting the urge to dig your phone out of your bag.

It’s stopped drizzling, though the sky’s still grey. You head toward the cafe on the next corner down, right opposite the park, your bag bouncing against your hip with each stride.

You’re almost there when you realise your phone has somehow leapt into your hand without your permission, and you’re refreshing your messages.

There are a handful of new notifications from a group chat comprised of people from school, one from one of your old co-workers, and a link to a video from Bear.

You hold the door open for a girl carrying a tray of coffees, and she slips past, murmuring her thanks.

It’s busy and warm inside, and everything smells like toasted bread. You order in a daze, stepping to the side to wait, your attention back on your screen.

Peter was last active twenty-five minutes ago. You refresh it again, your thumb hovering over the screen, rewarded with the same thing you’ve seen the last thousand times you’ve checked.

i’ll come by to pick you up at 5ish for dinner tonight. may said she’s really looking fw to meeting you :)

It wouldn’t hurt just to make sure he’s doing okay. Just a quick message, to ask whether he’s been sleeping, and to check that he hasn’t got another black eye or broken any bones since the last time you saw him.

You picture him getting home to his empty, dark apartment at two in the morning. Dripping a little water onto the aloe plant that lives on his bathroom counter. Curling up in his bed.

It would be harmless.

Wouldn’t it?

Your head snaps up at the sound of your name being called. You’re scooping up your coffee and paper-wrapped bagel when you hear it again, behind you this time.

“I thought that was you!” May’s smile lights up her entire face, almost as bright as the floral scrubs she’s wearing.

You gape wordlessly for an uncomfortably protracted moment before you manage to reconfigure your face into what you hope passes for a smile. “May! Hi! Oh, my God! What are you doing here?”

“Hospital cafeteria coffee is a special kind of awful,” she says, lifting her hand to show you the coffee she’s holding. It’s in a vacuum-type cup; pink and insulated.

You try to angle your body so your own coffee in its non-reusable cardboard is a little less visible. “Oh, right! Yeah! Of course!” You need to calm the fuck down. Your voice is about three octaves higher than usual.

She pauses. “Is everything okay?”

You open your mouth to respond and find that you can’t. You’re still emotionally snagged on the barbed thought of Peter watching old sci-fi movies in bed alone. Having May in front of you is making you feel hot and trapped.

May’s brows crease. “Oh, dear.”

You laugh, embarrassed, touching your fingertip to the inner corner of your eye. “Shit, sorry. This is. Um. Yes, yeah, I’m okay. Sorry.” You laugh again, and it comes out like static.

She purses her lips. “Come on. Let’s go sit in the park.”

Her tone brooks no argument, and you find yourself glad to obey, your brain happily soggy and freed from decision-making. She leads you to a quiet spot by the fountain, on the stone steps.

A toddler with a chaff-coloured cowlick blowing in the wind is chasing the pigeons and shrieking with delight. You watch his parents smiling at each other as they follow close behind.

May digs a tube out of her bag and deposits a dime-sized amount of citrus-smelling lotion into her palms before smoothing her hands together. “Peter always tells me I should stop trying to get involved in things that are none of my business, but then, he really shouldn’t talk.”

You swallow a mouthful of coffee. “We kind of broke up. I think.”

She makes a pained noise, but doesn’t seem surprised.

You feel the need to defend him from the disappointed look on her face. “It’s my fault. I misinterpreted the whole thing. I tried to make it more serious than we agreed. Peter didn’t do anything wrong.”

She does look surprised at this. “I thought it was already serious. Peter’s never brought anybody around to meet me before. And from how he’d been talking…”

Your throat tightens. You look down at your knees and find there’s a ladder forming in your tights, right below the hem of your skirt. “I thought so too. Or hoped, at least.”

She doesn’t push the conversation further, which is nice of her, but it means you’re left with an expanse of expectant silence. A mouse-brown sparrow flits past your head and dives into the row of bushes surrounding the fountain.

“He never told me how he was feeling.” You wonder if this is a mistake. It’s probably weird of you to be having this conversation with his aunt, without his knowledge, when you aren’t even together anymore. If you were ever together. “But I could tell things were just…off. Sometimes.”

She nods. “The whole Oscorp thing couldn’t have been easy.”

“Yeah,” you agree, before you realise what she’s said. “Wait, what?”

“Well, it’s…it’s just probably bringing up some painful memories for him having you there, that’s all. After what happened, you know, with Harry, and everything else.”

“What? You mean Harry Osborn? Like the old CEO’s son?” You’d heard he suffered some kind of semi-public breakdown not long after his father’s death, smashed up one of the labs and lost all of his remaining shares before disappearing into a hospital somewhere, but you can’t imagine how any of this connects with Peter. “I’m sorry, I’m really lost. What are we talking about here?”

The sparrow emerges victorious from the greenery, a doomed grass spider wriggling in the pinch of its tiny beak. May’s eyes dart searchingly between yours, her expression growing cold. “He hasn’t told you.”

You gnaw the inside of your cheek. You feel very stupid. “Hasn’t told me what?”

She looks terribly sad. She gently lays her hand over yours, her plain wedding band cold against your skin. The gesture feels like the application of a balm, preempting pain. You imagine then that she must be a very, very good nurse. “Oh, sweetheart. Her name was Gwen.”

——————

Bear clomps through the apartment, all the way from one side to the other and back again. Her footfalls sound heavy. She must be wearing her oil-slick rainbow Docs, you muse. Her door was shut when you got in, so this is only a guess, but you can practically see her through the walls.

More clomping, then a pause, coming to a halt right outside your bedroom door. “You nearly ready to go?” she yells.

If she’s wearing those boots, then you’d be willing to bet she’s also wearing shorts. Maybe those green high-waisted ones. You really like those shorts. Maybe you’ll ask where she got them.

“Can I come in? Are you naked?”

Then again, she probably found them in a thrift store. She has a weird talent for finding cool stuff wherever she goes; one you sadly do not share.

Your door opens and she stands silhouetted against the light, looking down at you sitting on your bed, in the dark, in your pajamas for a long moment. “Do you want me to cancel with Chris?”

“No. You go without me. I kinda wanna be alone.”

She cracks the knuckles of her index and middle fingers absent-mindedly. “O kay, but you’ve been alone. Most nights this week.”

“It’s okay.” Your voice sounds strangely flat. “Just tired.”

She cracks her thumb; a single loud, thoughtful pop. Then she walks away, leaving your door open.

You contemplate climbing into the shower fully-dressed. You’re sure it’d feel nice, sitting under the warm spray. It’s only the thought of then having to peel the cold, clinging skin of your pajamas off after the fact that convinces you not to.

Bear reappears sans jacket, now silent on socked feet, the spare blanket from the sofa in one hand and her laptop in the other. She shuffles into your room. “You wanna watch The Thing?”

Your sinuses tingle and you almost cry with affection for her. “Yeah,” you say, your voice tiny. “Yeah, I wanna watch The Thing.”

“The old one,” she qualifies haughtily as she plops onto the bed beside you. “I don’t give a fuck how sad you are; we’re not watching the remake.”

“Obviously,” you say, scooting over to make room for her.

As you settle in, you catch a glimpse of her thumbs moving swiftly over a message, making an excuse to Chris, something about you both eating bad leftovers. She could’ve just blamed you, but she doesn’t.

You aren’t really seeing the movie. It’s all just colours and shapes and noises. Your eyes follow the splashes of red across the screen as you speak, quiet.

“His girlfriend died.”

You can see her looking at you from your periphery, but she doesn’t say anything.

“It happened right before college. It’s why he took a year off and started late. His aunt told me it was an accident, but he saw it happen, and he couldn’t stop it, and he blames himself.” As though to drive it deeper into your own guts, you say it again. “She died. In front of him.”

There’s a long silence, broken only by the voices of the actors onscreen.

“Shit,” Bear finally says.

“Yeah.”

May hadn’t shared many details. Just that she— Gwen —had interned at Oscorp, and that Peter had been friends with Harry Osborn since they were children. The dual losses had been near-simultaneous. Peter hadn’t recovered. Not completely. Not really.

“He never seemed to talk to anyone. Except for his aunt. It’s why I didn’t think he was seeing anyone else, even with all the weird shit going on. He was totally isolated from everyone. Like, I had to be the one to approach him the first time we… anyway.”

Bear nods. “Is he in therapy?”

“I don’t think so.”

Her next words come out very carefully, as though she’s trying to be tactful. “Do you think…maybe, you don’t really miss being with him? Are you sure you don’t just feel sorry for him? Or like you need to save him?”

You think about one of the last times you’d gone over to see him. He’d stopped to hold the stairwell door open for one of his neighbours; a sour-faced old man with arms full of groceries. The man had given no thanks, or even acknowledgement, but Peter had still followed a careful distance behind, darting forward to hold the door again when he’d reached his floor. He hadn’t even said anything. Because, you now know intimately, that’s simply the type of person Peter Parker is.

You think about the clean-laundry smell of his hoodies and the awkward way he folds his frame into too-small chairs and how carefully he ran his hands up the length of your throat while he was buried inside you.

“I miss him.”

She sighs. “I knew you were gonna say that.”

You both sink into silence, watching the characters in the movie play out their inevitable ends. Despite the gore, this feels safe. Like model trains with nowhere to go but to the ends of their assigned tracks.

You nudge her foot with yours. “Sorry for fucking up your night. You’re a good egg.”

She pats the top of your head, then quickly yanks her arm away to stifle a sneeze in the crook of her elbow. “Yeah, I know.”

You fall asleep curled softly into the warm space left by Bear’s body.

It’s pouring so heavily you can barely keep your umbrella over your head. Your arms shake with the effort, water sloshing and sucking at your feet.

“It’s coming down pretty hard,” you shout.

“What?” May shouts back. You’re standing together in her kitchen. The floorboards have liquefied to mud, the drops pinging metallic off the benches and light fixtures.

“I said it’s raining really hard!”

“It’s okay,” she yells. “Peter’s fixing it.” Her face is a washed-out blur in the distance. The dimensions of the room are off; she’s at least twenty yards away, the house stretched to surreal proportions, and in the gloaming you can barely tell which direction to turn your body.

“Peter’s here?” You spin around, squinting into the dark. “Peter?”

You grope groggily out of the blankets for your phone, still beside you on the bed. It’s just after four in the morning.

He was last active two minutes ago.

you should be asleep, you type, squinting, and then swiftly delete.

i hope you’re okay, you try again, backspacing the characters as fast as you write them.

Is he alone right now? Is he warm enough? Is he safe?

i’m really sorry.

The message glows at you, unsent.

You turn over and sleep again, dreamless this time.

#peter parker x f!reader #peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x f!reader #tasm!peter parker x f!reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm fanfiction #tasm fanfic #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker imagine #peter parker imagine

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toomuchracket · 8 months

Note

Feel like matty and the boys are the type of dads that would dress up for their children’s birthday parties 🤣🤣 like you know how you can hire entertainers who will dress up as people for kids, I can 100% see matty in like a Spider-Man costume and his kids just being mesmerised and then one of them clicking on that it’s actually their dad 🤣

HA i love this. let's say in the d word universe, lyla and alex have a phase of being obsessed with the spider-man cartoons when they get a little bit older (maybe keir gets them into it when they're over at uncle ross's house or something!), and for alex's 6th birthday matty's like "you know what? i'm gonna dress up as spider-man for a bit at his party and entertain the kids". and you're like "😬 is that wise? if they figure out it's you then all hell will break loose. tears and tantrums all round", and matty's like "babe it'll be fine they'll have no idea. i'll do like 20 mins and an accent"; you raise a brow like "you can maintain a decent american accent for that long?", and matty's like "probably. surely the actor parents genes are in here somewhere. if not, i'll just do a backflip". you wince like "really? i didn't know you could do that", and matty smirks like "well, baby, i'm quite agile" - you nod like "yeah, i knew that one, alright", and matty laughs and hugs you. into his shoulder, you murmur "i can't talk you out of this, can i?", and matty says "not at all, sweetheart"; you sigh as you pull back like "alright then. but you have to get a costume that looks like the andrew garfield one, promise me", and matty's confused like "but the kids haven't seen those films yet". smirking, you kiss his cheek and say "no, that caveat is one for mummy, not the kids", and matty's jaw drops like "oh, we need to unpack THAT one later. but alright, darling, i'll see what i can find costume-wise".

he doesn't show you the costume until the actual day of alex's party, though, A) in case he or lyla were to walk in on him wearing it or swipe onto a pic on your phone while they watched peppa on youtube (as kids are wont to do) and B) in case you went catatonic at the sight of matty dressed like one of your formative on-screen crushes (he pestered you until you admitted it, said "that's quite valid of you actually. handsome man. great actor", and giggled at how flustered you got during the laptop smashing scene when you watched the social network together). you get to ogle him for a couple of minutes before he goes out and entertains the kids, and naturally matty's a flirty little shit with you, making you feel up his biceps because "i don't feel like the fabric's sitting right, sweetheart" - he also does the half-mask kiss with you right before he goes into the garden, which makes your knees weaken a little more than his kisses normally do lol. anyway, the performance is actually a success; he manages one flippy thing, which impresses the kids and makes adam go "well, that'll be his back fucked, then", and does a semi-decent accent that george and ross will nevertheless rib him for for the next 3-5 business days. alex is overjoyed by the whole thing, and is having such a good time with his friends that he doesn't even seem to clock that matty is nowhere to be found - lyla, however, isn't so easily duped. once he's changed back into regular clothes, matty finds her hanging around in the kitchen by herself trying to steal all the gummy bears from the bowls of haribos; he's like "you alright, munchkin? i heard i missed spider-man while i was at the loo", and lyla rolls her eyes like "i know it was you in the suit, dad". there's no point lying to her, he thinks, so he steals a cola bottle sweet and says "how could you tell?", and she says "you used one of the same voices you use for bedtime stories". matty's lowkey taken aback at how perceptive she is, but before he can say anything she keeps talking like "but it was nice you did that for alex. i mean, actual spider-man is definitely too busy to come to a birthday party in london" - matty smiles at that - "but alex sent him an invite anyway because he really wanted him to be here. don't worry, dad, i won't tell him it was really you. i think it's cool what you did". and matty scoops her up into a hug like "should've realised you'd figure it out, my clever girl! and that's very considerate of you to keep it a secret from alex. secrets aren't always good, but in this instance i think it's the right thing. m'proud of you, munchkin"; lyla quietly snuggles into her dad for a second, before she says "will you teach me how to do the flip thing you did?", and matty laughs like "in a little bit, darling. but let's go and get some cake first, yeah?" <3

#the thought of matty in a spiderman costume is doing terrible things to my psyche. need it #mads answers asks #matty asks #fluff asks #d word matty #literal d word

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liz-allyn · 1 year

Note

Fuck you and fuck blaze

Ooh… is this a tasm peter prompt? I don’t take requests but I’ll give it a shot!

You own a small, quaint bookshop, researching ways to advertise (as your last effort, screaming obscenities at passersbys, proved unfruitful) when suddenly. you see him.

oh.

(See I gave you the acclaimed ‘oh’ because im an artist)

It’s Andrew motherhubbin Garfield

He walks into your shop, dressed head to toe in black, specifically comprised of a straight-fit jacket with notched collar and wide fluid trousers, by Saint Laurent, both in black and silver pinstripe wool, a “Yves” collar shirt in black-matte silk with a shiny stripe, a striped silk lavalliere, which is similar but more relaxed than an ascot, and finally Saint Laurent’s Vassili Chelsea leather boots, which feature a Cuban heel that marries nicely with his ‘reading poetry on a chill Thursday morning at 11am’ vibe.

“Hello he said I am Andrew Garfield. I am looking for poetry to read all this chill Thursday morning.”

You were overwhelmed with shock. This was your favorite actor ever except he really hated the Spider-Man movies. You really hate all forms of commercialism. Even more, you hated the Social Network. You hate anything that glorifies commercialism especially in a social context. You also felt like Hacksaw Ridge was garbage, Silence was boring, Tick Tick Boom could literally suck a dick and die, and Under the Silver Lake was stupid, and although mainstream kinda got you, you hated it for being shown commercially in a theater.

“ wow that’s a lot” he said.

“Oh, I said all that out loud?” You say

“Yes,” he says, as he flutters his long lashes over his Amber golden eyes. “You did. So do you have a book on poetry?”

“ Sorry, sometimes I just don’t know how to talk to people,” you said. “I spend a lot of time alone writing hateful messages online. It’s just that I hate commercialism, and I hate advertising so much, but more than anything I hate fire. Fire is bad, and it killed my whole family, which left me as an orphan. Anything fire related is awful.”

“ wow he said “what an amazing story. I hope you don’t think this is too forward but I really think we should fuck.”

“ That is crazy” you exclaim. “People tell me I should get fucked all the time!” Then, as you sigh prettily you say, “I have Prince Harry’s memoir in stock, want to fuck on top of that?”

Andrew says “that’s edgy. I like it. But first, my friend Lin Manuel Miranda and I agre going to a basketball game snd he has an extra ticket. Would you like to go?”

“Omg,” you say, hyperventilating as you grin wide. “I hated Hamilton so much.”

Andrew laughs, “really no one says that. I’ve never heard that before.” You stare at his pouty cherry lips and his Greek-carved marble jaw and then you go to the basketball game with him. You sit court side, which is lame, because you’re right next to Lin manual and he’s next to tobey maguire, whose giant swimming pool blue eyes are distracting.

But it’s okay, you realize as Andrew grips your thigh. There’s nothing commercial about this at all so it can’t hurt you. Portland is the opposing team and it can’t hurt you in your safe space. And after this your gonna get railed. Not just by Andrew Garfield, but by the Portland Trail Blazers.

The end!

Thanks for reading anon!

#sorry lol #salty anon #salty fic prompts you never asked for #triggered?#youre loved #fuck me for testing out the system to see how it works #apologies to Andrew garfield #apologies to the Portland trailblazers

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sincericida · 10 months

Text

ANDREW GARFIELD’s side profile is the definition of art.

AG’s jaw makes me feel things and have unholy thoughts...

(X)

#andrew garfield #andrew garfield profile #andrew garfield jaw #he’s so sexy anyway #he's makes me feel all kinds of things #god i need to [redacted] with him so much #peter parker #spider man #the amazing spider man #tasm #tasm peter parker #tasm peter #andrew peter parker #andrew peter #sincericida

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alyswritings · 2 years

Text

Girl in the Chair

Request: saw a post regarding this and now i can't get this out of my mind: how about a teen!cousin sister!reader x ag!peter parker fic where she's may and ben's daughter so they're basically raised together and one day she finds out about him being spidey and then starts helping him out with little stuff (like making silly excuses for his absence at home and patching him up)?

Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield) x cousin!reader

Summary: Y/N helps Peter keep his secret identity.

Warnings: swear words, kind of angsty ig, some fluff

a/n: thank you for the request! yes, i did get the whole "person in the chair" thing from tom's spider-man. hope you all enjoy!

(gif not mine)

Y/N was the closest thing that Peter had to a sibling. She was only four years old when Peter's parents left, only two years younger than him. Even before he had to move in with them, they were still very close and each other's best friends.

After Peter's parents disappeared and he permanently moved in, they ended up growing closer and they did practically everything together. They were there for each other through all of the hard times.

When Ben died, it destroyed both of them. For the first few days, they comforted each other, but after that Peter started getting distant and he was almost never home.

Currently, Y/N is lying on Peter's bed, her hair hanging off the end of it. She's on her phone, waiting for him to get home, though she doesn't really expect him to get back.

The window opens and Y/N looks over, watching as Spider-Man climbs in the window. Her eyes widen and her jaw drops as she watches him come through the window. Spider-Man drops to his feet and takes the mask off only to reveal Peter making Y/N's eyes practically pop out of her socket.

"Oh, my God!" She yells, sitting up. Peter jumps about a foot in the air, finally noticing her.

"Y/N." Peter says heavily. "He-- uh, hey. What's, uh... what's up, sis-cuz?" He awkwardly laughs.

"You're Spider-Man!" Y/N gasps.

"What?!" Peter's voice raises a few octaves. "I-- no. No, no, I... I'm not."

"Then what the hell are you wearing?" Y/N asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh..." Peter looks down at the suit. "Um... I... school play?"

"You go to a science school, genius." Y/N remarks.

"Uh... well, what the hell are you doing in my room anyway?" Peter asks, locking his bedroom door.

"You promised we'd watch Harry Potter, remember? And despite you not keeping a single promise the past couple of weeks, I was still holding out a little hope." Y/N explains.

"Okay. Right. We can watch it now." Peter says.

"Oh, who cares about wizard children right now. You're Spider-Man." Y/N states.

"Okay, okay, fine! Yes! I am Spider-Man!" Peter hisses.

"What the hell?" Y/N asks.

"I-- it's a long story." Peter says.

"What, because I'm so busy?" Y/N scoffs.

"Look, you... you can't tell anybody. All right, nobody. Not a single soul. Not even Aunt May." Peter says.

"You want me to lie to my mom?" Y/N asks.

"Like you've never lied to her before?" Peter retorts, knowing full well that she has.

"Well, yeah, on my own accord." Y/N says. "Why can't I tell anybody?" Y/N asks.

"Because then they know who it is, and I... I don't want that. Who knows what kind of attention or-or danger that could bring." Peter says.

"Danger to who?" Y/N asks.

"Me. Us." Peter says.

"When did this happen?" Y/N asks.

"I... I might've snuck into Oscorp one day... trying to find stuff out about my parents. I snuck into a lab that had genetically altered spiders and one kind of, you know, bit me. And I woke up and could do stuff."

"When did you decide to start using the powers?" Y/N asks. "Once you learned how to control them, at least. Assuming you didn't have instant control."

"Look, can we just talk about this later? I don't... I'm not in the mood." Peter says.

"Oh, come on. I just found out you've been Spider-Man, you're gonna make me lie to everybody, you've been keeping this secret and God knows how many more from me, and you want me to let it go?"

"Okay, okay. After... after Uncle Ben, I... I started to look for the robber who-- who, you know..." He doesn't really want to say it.

"Who killed my father, yeah." Y/N forces a pained smile. "Go on."

"I... and I started trying to find the one that did it. And at some point I made the suit and-and the web shooters and I became Spider-Man and... well, I'm still looking for the robber, but I'm also now Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. Fighting crime. With no true identity."

"You know my dad wasn't your fault, right?" Y/N asks.

"He was out looking for me, so--"

"Pete..."

"Rather it was my fault or not, I'm finding the guy that killed him, okay?!" Peter snaps.

"You're also putting yourself in danger. Especially going after the guy." Y/N argues.

"Well, you and Aunt May were pretty broken up that night. I can't... I can't just let him live with it." Peter says.

"You're gonna kill him?" Y/N asks.

"I'll probably just turn him in." Peter says.

"You're a dumbass." Y/N says.

"Just promise me you won't tell anybody." Peter pleads.

"Fine. I promise." Y/N says.

"Pinky." Peter holds his pinky out.

"Really?" She asks.

"You're the one who started it." Peter counters. Y/N rolls her eyes, but links her pinky with his. "Just don't die on me, please."

"I won't." Peter assures. "So... Harry Potter?"

"No. No, uh... I think I'm just gonna... stay in my room tonight. See you tomorrow... or whenever." Y/N says, unlocking the door and leaving.

- - -

A few days later, Peter gets home from school, immediately greeted by May.

"Where were you last night?" She asks.

"Wha-- where was I?" Peter asks.

"Yes. Yes, where were you?" May repeats the question.

"I, um... I, uh--"

"He was up on the roof. You know, how we always used to sneak up there as kids." Y/N says, quickly walking up.

"Right. Right. Yeah... yeah, I was... I was there." Peter nods.

"Wha-- why?" May asks.

"He got too hot in his room. And he lost track of time and fell asleep." Y/N says.

"I-- just don't do it again." May says.

"Got it." Peter says.

May looks between the two before just sighing and leaving, shaking her head muttering under her breath.

"The roof?" Peter mumbles.

"What, because it's too much of a lie? We used to do that all the time." Y/N says.

"Yeah, but... still, really?" Peter asks.

"Come on." Y/N grabs his arm, dragging him to his room. Y/N shuts and locks the door. "Okay, so I've been thinking and I'm gonna help you."

"help me with what?" Peter asks.

"Being Spider-Man." Y/n says.

"What?" Peter chuckles.

"Yeah." Y/N nods.

"No. No, no. I'm... you don't have any, you know, powers or anything." Peter says. "And I'm not taking you straight into danger."

"Not like that. Just like... you know, I can lie for you. Make up excuses when mom asks where you are. Or-or help you with injuries. Surely, you get hurt... which makes me feel worse about this whole Spider-Man thing, but, uh, you know. Or if you need help figuring something out."

"I can make my own excuses." Peter says.

"Yeah, but you suck at them." Y/N says.

"Wha-- no I don't." Peter frowns.

"You told mom you were fixing my bike one time." Y/N says.

"Yeah, and?" Peter asks, not seeing the issue.

"I haven't had a bike since I was twelve." Y/N says.

"I thought it was good." Peter mumbles.

"Yeah, maybe if I still had a bike." Y/N says. "Oh! And I can help you make more web fluid shooting things."

"You're failing science." Peter reminds.

"Because you have no time to help me and the tutors at my school are assholes." Y/N retorts. "And fine, not that, but everything else."

"Y/N..." Peter sighs.

"Oh, come on. I wouldn't even have to leave my room for any of it. It's like... like I'm your, uh... oh! Your girl in the chair." Y/N grins.

"Girl in the chair?" Peter echoes.

"Yeah!" Y/N nods.

"Okay, if it's... just stuff like that... which can be done from inside the house... then, fine." Peter agrees making Y/N grin.

- - -

As time went on, Y/N continued to make up excuses for why Peter wouldn't be somewhere, but always making sure they were excuses that didn't sound dangerous. She helped him with whatever injuries he got, quickly becoming skilled in the patching up process.

Y/N is sitting in her room and staring at her science homework with the most confused expression on her face.

"Y/N? Honey?" Her mother knocks on the door before opening it. "Sweetie, do you know where Peter is?"

"Oh, he's, um... he's... I wanted some ice cream. So I made him go get it." Y/N says.

"You made him get it?" May asks.

"Yeah. Yeah, I mean, I am a teenage girl in the 21st century. It's... it's dangerous out there. He offered, as well." Y/N says.

"Oh... okay. Just... let me know when he gets back. I'll be in my room." May says.

"Got it." Y/N nods, smiling at her mom. May softly smiles at her before leaving, shutting the door behind her.

"That one was actually pretty good." Y/N mutters.

A few minutes later, there's a knock on Y/N's window. She looks over, finding Peter in his Spider-Man suit, but she can see his face, able to spot the multiple cuts on his face.

"Oh, my God!" She exclaims, rushing to the window. She unlocks it, pushing it open. "What the hell happened to your face?" She asks as he climbs in.

"Nice to see you, too." Peter sarcastically smiles.

"Your chest is bleeding." Y/N points out.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know." Peter says.

"Y/N?" They hear May call out. "Honey, you all right?"

"Yes!" Y/N yells, rushing to the door. Peter hides in the closet as the door starts to open, Y/N quickly getting there, stopping her mom from opening it any further. "Yeah. Yes. I'm... I'm great."

"Why were you yelling?" May asks.

"Oh, I was just... I finally understood something in science." Y/N says.

"Oh. That's great, darling." May smiles.

"Yep." Y/N smiles.

"Okay. Keep it up." May says.

"Will do." Y/N says, watching her mom walk off. She sighs, shutting the door and putting a chair in front of it to block it. She turns to Peter who walks out of the closet.

"That might be your stupidest lie yet." Peter teases.

"You know, disinfectant stings. And I'm gonna be the one holding it." Y/N says.

"Sorry." Peter quickly says.

"Yeah." Y/N nods. "Bed." Peter sits on her bed and Y/N gets the first aid kit out of her desk. Y/N grabs her desk chair and puts it in front of Peter and sits on it. She puts the kit next to him and starts cleaning up the injuries on his face. She finishes with his face.

"Okay... take the top part of your suit off." Y/N orders.

"What?" Peter asks.

"I need to clean the wound on your chest. Unless you'd like to continue bleeding." Y/N says.

"I... it'll heal soon. What's the point?" Peter says.

"Pete, I'm your cousin, I've seen you shirtless before." Y/N says. "it's not a big deal."

"Fine." Peter grumbles, taking the top part of his suit off, letting it fall onto the bed. Y/N starts to clean the cut, Peter hissing in pain at the disinfectant. He squirms a little in discomfort.

"Stop being a baby." Y/N chides. Peter quietly mocks her. Y/N presses the cloth with disinfectant harder on his chest, making him let out a quiet cry of pain.

"Ow! God, Y/N. Jesus!" He whispers, pushing her hand away.

"I warned you to watch what you say." Y/N says. She continues to clean his wound.

"I have a question." Peter says.

"What?" Y/N asks.

"Why do you do this?" Peter asks.

"Do what?" Y/N asks.

"Help me." Peter says.

"Why would I not?" Y/N asks.

"You just didn't seem... you know, super supportive of the whole thing." Peter says.

"Well... I figured if you're gonna be brave and stupid, I'd be stupid with you." Y/N says.

"Cool." Peter mumbles. "You're brave, too."

"Well, I'm not the one fighting crime, am I?" Y/N retorts.

"Yeah, but you don't have to be... you know, a cop or-or another sort of crime fighter or something to be brave." Peter says.

"Well, thanks." Y/N mumbles. "There. Done."

"Thank you." Peter tells her.

"Help me with science homework?" Y/N hopefully asks.

"Fine." Peter lightly rolls his eyes.

Peter went to change into pajamas while Y/N sits back at her desk and puts the first aid kit up. Peter soon returns and grabs a chair, sitting next to her.

"What do you not get?" Peter asks.

"Everything." Y/N states.

Taglist: @glxwingrxse

#peter parker #peter parker x cousin reader #peter parker x cousin!reader #peter parker andrew garfield #andrew garfield

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