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biblio-smia · 4 months

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shy shy shy

a little insecure tasm peter parker x reader, early stages of relationship

masterlist | requests are open!

nerdy peter lovers rise

They were just glasses.

On, off. On, off. A clear reflection of Peter in the bathroom mirror, a few circles of color where his head and body would be.

Peter examines himself with the lenses on, pulls out a piece of his sweater that had gotten caught inside his plaid pajama pants. His hands run up through the damp hair that falls flat against his forehead in an attempt to give it a little volume but it's no use without his usual styling products. Peter slaps his palms on his cheeks, shakes his head and sends micro-drops of water sailing. He bounces in place, attempting to shake out the jitters his body has had trouble containing all day.

Peter pushes his contact lens case aside, gives himself one last glance over. He contemplates for a few seconds, biting the inside of his cheek. Peter sighs as he pulls the lenses off again, cradling them in his hands and blowing air through his lips.

Metal frames, thick lenses.

Couldn't have that spider fixed his vision while he was at it?

Okay, Peter's vision wasn't that bad. Maybe he could survive without the frames Peter felt altered his appearance so drastically (or at least, reflected more accurately the type of person Peter was in his spare time). Peter with Contacts was cool and confident - scaled back from the confidence he had while he was in his suit, but not as pathetic as he was back in high school. Peter with Glasses? Yeah, that guy looked deserving of wedgies.

He reaches for his phone to check the time (and make sure he hasn't left you alone for too long), but can't make out what the white numbers say through his cracked screen.

Okay, maybe it is pretty bad.

Peter sighs, picks up the mess he'd made pre and post shower, hyping himself up one more time before opening the door and flipping the light switch off.

Peter pads down the hallway and peers his head around the corner into the small living room. He squints and can just barely make out the top of your head sitting on his couch.

Even though he can't see you very well, Peter's heart makes a funny feeling in his chest, even through the eye strain.

It's like you can feel Peter's eyes on you (which, you probably can - Peter is working overtime to try and make out the details of you) because you sit a little straighter and turn your head. Peter pushes his glasses on just in time to see you smile. And then grin.

"You wear glasses?"

Your voice is curious, not at all condescending, though Peter can hear the smile in your voice as you come up to meet him.

"For the aesthetics," Peter grins, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms in an attempt to make you believe the false sense of confidence he's putting up. It's stupid, really, but a tiny piece of Peter thinks someone as consistently perfect as you should be with someone who is equally on par. And, at the moment, Peter feels like he's letting you down.

You stand close to Peter, too close (his heart can't stop fluttering and his breath has caught in his throat). Peter fights the urge to pull you close to him. Too much, too soon, though he'd really like to kiss you right about now.

You try to contain your smile, a part of you still not quite believing that you've been so consistently guilty of making Peter Parker flustered.

Your fingers gently pull Peter's glasses off with a glint in your eye and Peter frowns at the sudden loss of sight - only because he doesn't want to miss looking at you from so close.

"For the aesthetics, huh?" You grin, turning the glasses to measure the thickness of Peter's lenses. Your suspicions about the strength of his prescription are confirmed by the way Peter's eyes are squeezed together as he looks at you.

"A hundred percent," Peter persists, opening his eyes normally and looking straight at the blurred lines of your face.

You take a step back and flash your phone at Peter, tiny words melted into a block of black. Peter instinctively squints and leans forward, trying to distinguish what the small screen said.

"You're like a grandma," you laugh, fully now.

"You should feel horrible for making fun of the elderly." Peter's arms drop, reaching for his glasses with an easy smile. But you move your hands away and Peter's hands catch on the crooks of your arms as you carefully place Peter's glasses back on his face, taking care to place them behind his ears as comfortably as you can. Your fingers graze against Peter's hair, still damp from his shower, gently moving a few stray pieces back into place.

"Well, you can't go to sleep like that," you murmur. "You'll get sick."

"So I guess we have time to kill?" Peter asks, hoping the two of you will sit down for a movie - or anything that'd keep him close to you, really.

"I guess we do," you grin, hands falling to Peter's shoulders, savoring the feeling of his hands on you, unable to help the craving you have for more.

"Pete?"

"Hmm?" Peter is partially entranced, melted like chocolate with the sweet sound of that little nickname coming out of your mouth. His eyes flicker and he's trying not to stare at your lips, bottom lip caught in his mouth in anticipation.

"Could I put my stuff in your room?" You ask sweetly, trying not to laugh at the way Peter falters, blinking quickly.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Peter nods frantically, hoping he's not as red as he feels.

You bite back your grin as Peter stays there, not moving until you do, sweet brown eyes slightly magnified by his glasses. Oh, but it'd be so cruel to deny him.

You press a quick kiss to the corner of Peter's mouth. It's a little shy and you turn away immediately to grab the overnight bag you'd packed. Two pairs of cheeks are red and grateful for the excuse of it, trying to shake off the little bit of nervousness the two of you still have around each other. It's a little strange, neither of you quite used to having someone around to love so freely. It's new, too, both of you still a little afraid to do something that would scare the other off, each of you knowing you'd never be the one to run off.

But this tiny fear that lives in both of your brains is what had Peter picking over his appearance earlier and is what makes him nervous now as he leads you down the hall to his room. He'd cleaned it thoroughly, considering hiding all his trinkets and trophies, ended up shoving things that had littered his shelves into his closet.

Peter takes a breath before opening his creaky door, smiling as he welcomes you in, hoping you somehow wouldn't notice - or maybe, wouldn't care to ask about - any of the posters or books or medals or figurines that made Peter, Peter. He was partially embarrassed and entirely nervous about sharing more of himself with you. After all, Peter was an expert at shutting people out and not too great at letting them in.

He doesn't know if he's relieved or even more anxious as you stare in awe, bag abandoned near his bed. It's clear you're taking in every detail of Peter's room, eyes not missing a single decoration. Peter feels as if he's being dissected, fidgeting as he waits for you to finish your analyzing. He's about to suggest that movie when you walk over to the desk he has shoved against the wall. Peter doesn't think there's anything special about books and pencils, but you're touching the tops of the things on his desk with care and a fascination he doesn't quite understand.

You quietly move onto old trophies and medals Peter has displayed, only the ones he was proudest of.

"Princeton Math Competition? Wow, Pete." You only turn your attention to him momentarily, returning your eyes to the shelf with a grin.

Peter's heart flutters when you sound... impressed? It was an accomplishment he was proud of, but not something he went around telling strangers.

"Oh, that... that- that's old," Peter laughs, coming up behind you, sure now there'd be no chance of getting you to watch that movie.

"Tell me about it."

"W...what?" Peter laughs, glancing at you curiously.

"I wanna hear about it," you say genuinely, taking a seat on the edge of Peter's bed. "Tell me about it."

Peter doesn't have to tell you he's shocked for you to realize it, a small smile tugging at your lips as you look up at him. Peter's not sure he has the courage to ask why before you beat him, sensing his hesitancy.

"I wanna know everything about you Peter. I wanna hear about your math competitions. I want you to tell me what books you're reading. I wanna know what matters most to you," you shrug, face a little warm from the confession. You don't have too much time to be embarrassed before Peter is next to you, hands digging into the bed at your sides. His face is inches away, his breath warm on your lips.

"Please let me kiss you," Peter whispers.

"Please do," you whisper back, letting Peter take your face in his hands and pull you into a kiss. The surface you've chosen is a little unstable as the both of you shift around, neither of you quite able to let the other go until you're forced to, breathless and grinning.

Peter's glasses have fogged up and he groans, pulling them off exasperatedly. "God, I hate these things."

"Really? But you look so good in them," you comment innocently, picking up the frames and attempting to look through them, muttering something about how, wow, Peter is blind.

Peter's not paying attention, though, heart hammering in his chest. He takes you by surprises when he kisses you this time, glasses still in your hands as they rest against his chest.

"You're trouble," Peter says when he finally pulls away. "You're doing awful things to my heart."

"Should I make fun of you, then?" You tease.

"Oh, I think that'd make it worse."

"I didn't know you were into that."

Peter shoves you as you laugh, though he can't help but join you.

"I didn't know you were into nerds," Peter quips, letting you slide his glasses back onto his face - the ones that suddenly don't seem that bad anymore.

"Only the really pretty ones," you murmur, and really, how could Peter not kiss you for that one?

Peter tries to take his glasses off as your kissing grows heated, knowing they'll be useless when they eventually fog up anyway. But your hand stops Peter, lips puffy from plenty of kisses and still eager for more.

"Nuh-uh," you say, pulling Peter's hand back down. "Keep them on."

#peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #tasm spiderman #tasm spiderman x reader #andrew garfield peter parker x reader #andrew peter parker #v + peter #v writes

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reidslovely · 1 year

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Hi Bambi! Sorry this is late, but I’m always down to talk about Peter 🕸️❤️ How do you think he’d handle a “there’s only one bed” situation?? I can’t decide if he’d be cocky or awkward lol, but probably both

So glad you’re getting back in the swing of things! (Pun intended)

abby always a joy to see you in my inbox!! and it is not at all late (if anyone is late it is me hehe) requests will be open for quite a while!! i think that this is a very complex question i feel like peter would be too cocky about it to cover up how excited he'd be to share the bed. but at the same time your friends sooo it would be weird right??? let me walk you through it.

please reblog or comment when you like!!<3

Peter Parker ever since you had known him was very shy, and couldn't talk his way out of a wet paper bag around girls. Not in elementary school or middle, and definitely not in high school. Maybe that's why you found the boy next door to be such an interesting person. Nearly six foot tall, eyes that could win any girl over, yet anytime he opens his mouth...pure word vomit. Peter Parker in college was the same, yet by this point he had done the whole boyfriend girlfriend thing and learned to hide his nervousness behind shitty flirting and the cockiness that seemingly flew out of nowhere the middle of senior year.

However that shield broke the moment you checked into the beachside hotel.

It was a gorgeous hotel sitting on the beachfront of Ocean City. Peter had booked the first hotel that popped up, and got the cheapest room they had moments after planning the impromptu spring break trip. However, opening the door he realized why a four night stay was so cheap for two people. A single bed sat in the middle of the pale blue room, the duvet a soft yellow with flowers sitting on the bed.

“Oh I fucked up.” Peter mumbled laughing, tossing a quick glance at you. Hopefully you hadn’t thought this was a part of some long pawn he’d been playing to get you to fall into bed with him after all these years. Making a mental note to have May or you book a hotel for the next trip if there would ever be another trip after this. “Mhm, big time” You teased back sitting on the soft memory foam of the king bed. Peter rolled his eyes playfully, sticking his tongue to his teeth shaking his head.

“You mean you don’t want to sleep with me? Could have fooled me.”

Peter felt like his skin was on fire, he was praying you couldn’t see how red his face was.

You scoffed, eyes following him around the room. “Hey you’re the one who looks like you’re about to burst into flames.” Mhm he was not hiding it well. “Well you’re passing up the chance of a lifetime, there are plenty of girls who would be dying to be where you are right now missy.”

Peter states smugly, placing his hands on the back of his neck, making his torso a perfect target for you to hit him with the pillow you were holding on your lap. “Okay okay I’m serious.” He defends throwing it back, the pillow landing at your feet. “I don’t have the money to afford another room and still be an active participant on this trip so…” He thinks for a moment looking at the couch resting at the foot of the bed. “We can share a bed Peter.”

The words made him want to giggle and kick his feet like a cartoon character. He hid a smirk forming on his lips, clearing his throat. “I mean I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” “We used to share beds as kids.” You stated like it was no big deal. The two of you did share beds a lot until around middle school. Peter remembers being scared of sleeping on your floor so you’d let him into your bed at sleepovers, or Peter insisting that it was ungentlemanly to let you not have the bed at his house so the only explanation was to share.

“Yeah but we were kids, now we are…”

He was getting shy, and he felt so silly over it. Would sharing a bed really change nearly twenty years of friendship?

“Fine, since you’re begging me to sleep with you. I’d be so evil to deny you.” Peter sighs like it is the most annoying situation ever. Hours at the beach took his mind off of what tonight would bring. He got excited and flattered at the thought of sleeping next to you, and felt like he was a kid in the science museum again. Once you both returned to the hotel Peter let you shower while he tried to figure out the best way to go about this. He turned the TV on to kill his mind a little bit, he lies in multiple different ways trying to make it seem as normal as possible yet he felt silly.

Nothing felt natural.

Until you got in the bed with him. Your head on his shoulder as you scrolled on your phone, Peter watching the TV glancing at you occasionally. His hand rubbing your side slowly makes his heart flutter, instinctively he buries his head in your wet hair smiling at the videos on your phone.

“What are you doing weirdo?”

“I love you..I love this.”

He whispers, nudging his nose against your head, it falls out so perfectly. It makes the moment even more perfect. You laugh, not out of disgust or shock but it is a laugh of relief. He sinks down into the bed pulling you with him, holding you closer. Pete hums awaiting a response watching you put your phone down.

“If I knew getting you into bed with me would be what made you finally confess I would have used that years ago.” “Mhm well..y’know what they say.”

“What do they say?”

“Usually I love you too” He snickered, pushing hair from your forehead kissing softly.

“Go to bed” You laugh smacking his chest. Peter hums holding you closer, closing his eyes, head still in your hair. Against his skin hears and feels your soft reply of

“I love you too.”

🩵

hope that tickles your itch abby

forgot to do the taglist on the last few posts but doesn't really matter because some of those I tag never really interact with the fic lol.

@helloheyhihowdyheya @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @megmehz @sincericida @andrews-lovr @eevylynn @a-lumos-in-the-nox

#tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm andrew garfield #tasm peter #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm peter smut #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter x reader #tasm spiderman #tasm spiderman x reader #tasm fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #peter parker blurb

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dilf-lover99 · 1 year

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The Secrets We Keep | P.P.

Pairing: Tasm! Peter Parker x Reader (no pronouns mentioned)

Summary: Reader and Peter have been together for over a year, but lately Peter’s been acting strange. When a rumour goes around that he’s cheating, will Peter finally confess the secret he’s been keeping?

Warnings: angst (with a happy ending), major miscommunication(s), spreading of a rumour, mentions of cheating, a kiss or two, like two swear words i think?

Word Count: 3.4k

a/n: this has been in my drafts forever but better late than never i guess ! happy reading besties<3

There are certain moments in time, you believe, specific junctures in which you can unambiguously determine a person’s character.

For instance, when Peter Parker magnanimously rescued you from being the quintessential misplaced new kid on your first day of school, shattering your momentary apprehension with a series of epigrammatic jokes, you knew he was good. He was the type of person you could trust with anything, with everything.

Including your heart.

You never intended for it to happen. For the mere sight of his gentle crooked grin to set loose a thousand monarch butterflies within the environs of your stomach. For his lambent mahogany eyes to elevate the beating of your heart to a near-incomprehensible speed each time they came into contact with your own. For your fingers to itch with envy each time he ran a slender hand through the tousled strands of chestnut resting contently atop his head.

You never intended to fall for him, but you did.

And somehow, to your outright unabridged relief, he reciprocated your affections.

Peter Parker was no longer the unattainable fantasy that consumed hours of your thoughts with visions of stolen kisses or illusions of whispered devotions. He was your boyfriend.

Perfection is a counterfeit concept; An unobtainable title which countless people have fallen short attempting to procure. But the first year of your relationship with Peter was exclusively comparable to the word perfect.

Peter was the resolute characterization of what a partner should be. Patient and understanding, affectionate and gentle, always there with a witty joke and a whimsical grin on your good days, or a comforting embrace and sibilations of reassurance on your bad ones.

Recently, things have been different. Peter has been different.

When you see him, on the rare days he’s not preoccupied with matters he neglects to inform you of, he’s perceptibly distracted, his fascinatingly intricate mind absorbed with thoughts of something else entirely.

You’ve contemplated bringing it up with him, yearning for some reassurance that you’re still what he wants, but each time your words attempt the journey from your brain to your lips, they get stuck in traffic. How exactly does one ask their boyfriend why he’s avoiding them like an umbrella-wielding pedestrian in an unusually heavy stretch of rainfall?

In all fairness, you’ve been avoiding him too. Since Friday night. Harry Osborne had thrown a party that night, ‘The Party to End All Parties’ according to the entirety of your peers. Extravagant house parties and overflowing crowds aren’t your preferred circumstances for socialization, but you seized the long-overdue opportunity to spend some time with Peter.

You wish you hadn’t.

You can’t pinpoint the precise origin of the conversation, only the ending which resulted in your premature departure from the Osborne residence, neglecting to mutter so much as a goodbye to Harry while the biting sting of unshed tears filled your eyes.

“I just- I wanted to spend some time together. I feel like we hardly see each other anymore.” Your voice trails off at the end, becoming a mere shadow of its former self.

“We see each other all the time! I was at your dorm the day before yesterday.” Peter’s voice holds firm in both volume and pitch, he’s not yelling but you can sense his tone’s underlying urgency as his hand weaves its way through his auburn tresses.

“That was Monday, Pete.”

“Okay, then we saw each other on Monday. Can you just give me a little space? Please? Just for a couple hours. I’ll come find you after and we can talk, okay?” His chocolate eyes soften near the tail-end of his sentence, making it evident how blissfully unaware he is of the internal war now waging behind your eyelids.

It takes more strength than you knew you could muster, to prevent the plethora of melancholy emotions from overtaking your being as you mutter, “You know what? I actually have that Chem lab on Monday morning, I think- I’m just gonna’ go home and study.” You don’t wait for his response, uncertain if it would only cause you more heartache, turning swiftly on your heels and making an abrupt exit.

You’re adrift in the memory, wondering if you should have reacted differently, explained to him the impact that the nuance of his words had on you. An unyielding hand on your shoulder seizes your attention, graciously preventing you from vigorously overthinking any further.

A single glance informs you that the impeccably manicured hand belongs to none other than Penelope Marsh, designated campus gossip. You can count on one hand the amount of conversations you’ve had with Penelope since you started university that didn’t include her spreading a rumour like a wildfire. You’re certain this encounter isn’t likely to take up another.

“(y/n), I just wanted to say that I’m so sorry. About what Peter did to you at that party. It was so messed up, seriously. Nobody deserves that.” There’s a discernible undertone of pity to her voice, though she wasn’t sorry enough to hold off commencing the conversation to begin with.

“How did you-?” You cut yourself off with a gentle shake of your head, a chuckle of acknowledgement breaking through. A magician never reveals their secrets and a Penelope never reveals their sources; You’re wondering if there’s not a trace of magic in the girl alike, the speed with which she seems to possess other people’s secrets is borderline wizardry. “Never mind,” You simper amusedly, your outward cheeriness fading as you continue, “It wasn’t a big deal, really. Every couple has disagreements, right? We’re fine.” You aren’t entirely sure which of you it is you’re trying to convince.

She’s looking at you with a mixture of pity and confusion, though you haven’t the faintest idea what she could possibly be confused about. She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again, akin to that of a gulping fish in the sea, “(y/n), whatever you said in the argument doesn’t justify him hooking up with some rando! There’s no way you guys can be fine after that!”

What?

You want to call her a liar, or tell her that she’s wildly mistaken, but you don’t. You’ve been driving yourself near the brink of insanity wondering what Peter’s been hiding from you. Though you could never imagine him doing this, how can you immediately deny the only answer you’ve been offered?

You have a plethora of questions, each one violently clawing at your trachea with its talons in an attempt to be the first one out. The words never make it past your lips, though the burning sensation remains in your throat. Articulation ceases to be within the realm of your current capabilities, because, how does one verbalize the breaking of their heart?

Penelope, with all of her ill-timed metaphorical bomb-droppings, is perceptive enough to read you like a storybook, “Oh my god. You had no idea, did you? Oh I’m so sorry! I thought- Actually, scratch that, I wasn’t thinking at all.”

Had these been any other set of circumstances, you’d find great amusement in watching the typically put together Penelope Marsh stumble over her words in a misguided yet well-meaning attempt to soothe you. But the verisimilitude of the situation persists like the unceasing violence of a thunderstorm without the assurance of a tepid luminous addendum.

Peter didn’t want to be alone that night, he just didn’t want to be with you.

Suddenly, the mere idea of sticking around for the Chem lab you’d spent the remainder of that Friday night studying for, turned the tides in your stomach. You have to get out of here.

And so you do.

Wallowing.

That’s the only activity you’ve partaken in since Penelope told you about Peter’s supposed cheating scandal this morning. The logical part of your brain knows you owe it to him, or at the very least yourself, to have a rational adult discussion about everything before mourning the loss of a relationship that hasn’t actually ended yet.

But the acerbic heartbroken part of you isn’t keen on having a conversation with him at all.

Neither part of you knows the appropriate way to react when Peter shows up at your dorm holding a charmingly disheveled bouquet of flowers.

“Hi.” His eyes take their time searching each carefully crafted feature on your face before stopping at your own eyes, a timid smile resting on his delicate lips.

When you don’t answer, Peter takes a modest step inside, softly closing the door behind him without breaking eye contact. “I’m a jerk.” He states resolutely, knowing it’s best to usher the elephant out of the room before it causes any severe damage.

You let out a sardonic chuckle at his words, believing they hold an air of truth to them now more than you ever thought previously. “You can say that again.” The sound of your own voice takes you by surprise, you were honestly unsure wether you were going to speak or not.

“I’m a jerk,” He repeats with a heart-shatteringly beautiful smile, making things even harder than they were before.

You can’t take it anymore, the bitter resentful part of you can’t, at least, “Penelope Marsh.” You state simply.

It’s unfair, truly, how Peter manages to look so handsome, even now, sporting a look of outright confusion. “What?”

“Penelope Marsh.” You say again, as if you’re adding any level of clarification.

“Gossip Girl?” He jokes, “What about her?”

“A year and a half, Pete! We’ve been together for a year and a half, and I have to find out you don’t want me anymore through Penelope goddamn Marsh.” Woah. You said that.

The words hit you harder than they did when they were simply thoughts. But you don’t ignore the minuscule tinge of pride you receive for finally verbalizing your feelings.

Peter’s face has paled significantly, he’s trying to convince himself that he couldn’t have possibly heard you correctly. Doesn’t want you anymore? You’re the only thing he wants anymore. That’s why he’s hardly seen you these past few weeks. Keeping you safe is all that matters to him, and if Spider-Man’s enemies found out about you? There would be no more you to want.

But he can’t tell you that.

Because keeping you safe also, painstakingly, means keeping you in the dark. He knows you, better than he knows himself, and he knows how you would react if he told you he was Spider-Man. You would panic first, dismayed at the level of danger he often finds himself in, then you would get angry that he kept this a secret so well and for so long, lastly you would bargain with him, tell him that you were proud of the work he’s done but he’s too young to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders and that he should give it a break, at least until after college.

And as positively relieved as he would be to finally unload the burden of harbouring this secret from you, he’s not ready to give up being Spider-Man, no matter how dangerous it is.

But he also can’t not tell you that.

Because the only thing worse than not being Spider-man anymore, is not being yours anymore.

“(y/n),” He starts, taking gentle determined steps toward you, “You know that’s not true, right?”

You swallow in a futile attempt to rid yourself of the burning feeling that’s once again made itself at home in your throat. “How would I know that Peter? Was I supposed to know you wanted to be with me when you spent all month avoiding me like the plague? Or was I supposed to figure it out when you were hooking up with somebody else at Harry’s party?”

You’re not sure how your brain has finally decided to work in tandem with your vocal chords but you’re glad to rid the words from their endless loop inside your brain.

“What?! (y/n), what the hell are you talkin’ about? I didn’t touch anybody, okay? I swear,” His voice is equal parts frantic and confused, “I would never do that to you! You gotta know that by now.” He takes another step in front of you, the perfect distance to reach out a gentle hand and caress your cheek, though he resists the urge, wanting to give you your space.

“I want to believe that Pete…”

“Okay, so believe it.”

“Then you have to tell me why.”

You both know the meaning of your words, yet he asks, “Why what?”

“Why do we hardly see each other anymore? And when we do, why are you a million miles away? Why are you keeping whatever this secret is? If you didn’t do whatever people are saying you did at that party, then why the hell can’t you just, please, tell me what’s going on?”

There’s an inkling of relief you feel, finally releasing the tiresome burden you’ve been staunchly carrying around for weeks, but there’s also a legion of salty unshed tears waiting to be freed from the surface of your eyes.

Simultaneously, Peter’s eyes well up with their own tears. His brain is shouting at his throat to vocalize the truth, the whole truth, and assure you that you couldn’t be further off the mark.

But it’s like he’s frozen.

The glacial sub-zero temperatures biting at the tips of his fingers prevent them from making contact with your own. The snowstorm waging within the arctic blurs his vision, keeping him from seeing reason.

Sensing a lack of response, you continue with a final desperate plea, “Please, just tell me the truth, Pete.”

Belatedly, the ice thaws, melting away his doubts along with it. You want to know the truth; You deserve to know the truth. And so he makes up his mind.

He’s going to tell it to you.

His sparkling umber eyes look at you with a mixture of sorrow and determination as he takes one more step, inching ever closer to you, a gesture that conflicts each of the thoughts jumbled together in your head. Closing his eyes briefly, Peter releases a subaqueous sigh before reopening them and fixing them on your own.

“Promise you won’t hate me?” His voice gives its best attempt at a facetious tone, but is quickly overtaken with nerves.

“I could never hate you, Pete.” You admit honestly, reaching your fingers out and resting them gently upon his arm, giving it a tender squeeze of reassurance.

And now he knows that he’s making the right decision.

Because even when you mistakenly think that he may have done something incomprehensibly horrible to you, you’re still comforting him, still vowing to be there for him no matter the circumstances.

Respiring once more, he braves himself as best as he can, and, eyes never wavering from their heavenly contact with your own, utters “I’m Spider-Man.”

You’re not entirely certain your ears have processed his words correctly. They couldn’t have, right?

“You’re what?”

“I’m Spider-Man.” Peter repeats, voice laced with disbelief. He’s shocked that he actually managed to get the words out, twice no less. He’s tried telling you before, a multitude of times in fact, but he’s never managed to come close until now.

Of the myriad of ideas circling around in the confines of your cranium pertaining to the secret that your boyfriend’s been withholding from you, none of them resembled anything similar to the truth.

He’s Spider-Man?

It made no sense. And yet it made all the sense in the world.

How had you not discovered it before?

The plethora of scrapes and bruises being smoothly swept away with a ‘Guess I’m too clumsy for my own good.’ The times he’d been hours late to a date or a study session only to turn up sweat-slicked and out of breath with an ‘I’m an idiot, I’m so sorry.’ The time you attempted to grab a hoodie from his closet only to be stopped by a panic-stricken, ‘No! I’ll get it. It’s- It’s messy in there.’

“You’re Spider-Man.” You murmur, eyes wide.

“Yeah.”

“What the hell, Pete!” You innocuously swat at his arm with your hand, drawing a soft ‘ouch’ from Peter as you continue, “You’ve been Spider-Man this whole time and you’re only telling me now?”

“I didn’t want to put you in danger, (y/n)! Do you have any idea what could happen to you if bad guys find out you’re dating Spider-Man?” Peter’s voice is a plea, desperate for you to understand that he kept this from you because he loves you.

“You should have told me sooner.” You mumble, frustrated, as you know he had a hell of a good reason for keeping it a secret so long.

“I know,” He moves his hand to cup your face, tenderly rubbing shapes into your cheek with his thumb, “I just didn’t know how. I couldn’t-” He rests his forehead against your own, sighing contentedly at the warmth, “I can’t stop being Spider-Man, (y/n), I won’t.”

“I would never ask you to do that, Pete.” You pull back, confounded that his assumptions would suggest otherwise.

“You wouldn’t?”

“No?” Confusion seeps through your utterance.

“It’s not exactly the safest job in the world.” He explains facetiously.

“Oh really? They don’t give you health insurance and monthly check-ups?” Your sarcasm holds a teasing undertone that makes the corners of Peter’s mouth twitch upwards; The early stages of a masterpiece in the making.

Your voice becomes serious once more as you gaze into his eyes, your hand moving to rest over his own on your face, “I don’t doubt it’s dangerous, Pete. But Spider-Man helps people- You help people. That’s pretty amazing.”

There are more words to be shared, further concerns to be addressed, but Peter can’t be bothered to think about anything but kissing you in this moment.

And so he does.

His tender pink lips brush themselves gently upon your own. His hand remains on your face, the opposite one making it’s way up to your other cheek as you wrap both your arms around his waist. The kiss deepens, your lips moving together leisurely and deliberately in synchronous ebullient harmony.

When you finally part, reluctantly requiring the catching of your breath, you’re both donning blindingly luminous smiles.

“I just kissed Spider-Man.”

“Woah, what? Where is he? I’ll kick his ass.” Peter’s blissed out smile remains on his face, widening tenfold as he registers the sound of your laughter originating from his bad joke.

“Hey, what do you think Penelope Marsh was talking about? At the party on Friday?” Your curiosity returns, without the presence of anguish, knowing whole-heartedly that your boyfriend hasn’t broken your heart.

Peter cringes slightly, resting his forehead against yours once more with a diminutive chuckle, “I might have had a small Spider-Man emergency. That’s why I sorta blew you off that night, which I’m still really sorry about, by the way. I snuck out through one of the guest room windows, but when I came back, my hair was all messy and someone opened the door and saw me putting my clothes back on. Not my finest hour.”

You can’t contain the laughter bubbling in your throat, Peter laughing along with you once the sound breaks past your lips. The two of you remain like that for a while, sharing laughs and gentle caresses.

“Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry.” You mutter earnestly.

“What? What’re you sorry for?” His eyebrows are drawn together in confusion while a small pout plays upon his lips.

“For believing that stupid rumour, I know you’d never do anything like that. And I should have told you how I felt sooner, instead of holding it all in until I blew up at you.” Communication is the key to any healthy relationship and you’re frustrated with yourself that you appear to have lost sight of that over the last couple of months.

“Hey,” His voice is velvet as he tenderly grabs hold of your face in both hands, steadying your gaze into his sentimental chestnut eyes, “It’s okay. We’re okay.” He smiles a contagious smile, “I’m sorry too. About everything. Let’s make a promise, okay?”

You nod your head perceptibly, an amiable smile resting contentedly on your lips.

“Promise that, from now on, we’ll tell each other everything, okay? Even if it’s hard, or dumb, or one of those weird facts you always seem to have about the moon.”

“It’s earth’s natural satellite, Pete!”

Your smile widens as Peter chuckles affectionately at your quick defence of moon, “Yeah,” You start, still smiling brightly, “I promise.”

“Good. Me too.” He pulls your body closer to his own, kissing you once more with sincerity.

“I love you.” He mumbles against your lips.

“I love you too.” You murmur bringing him in for another kiss.

You’re veritably certain that you were right, all those moons ago, in your decision to entrust Peter Parker with everything.

Including your heart.

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countrymusiclover · 2 years

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Let me know what other fic you'd like me to update today???

Iron Heart (TASM Peter Parker x reader/Tony Stark daughter. MCU) @foundationsretail @abaker74 @whyarealllthegoodnamestaken @lastwandastan

Spider's Backup (Peter Parker x reader, Andrew Garfield, The Amazing Spider-Man) @the-big-bad-klaus @paw-sneeze @foundationsretail

Her Life Means Everything (Klaus Mikaelson x Forbes, Caroline's sister. TVD) @mrs-fanfiction-2001 @the-big-bad-klaus

The Jedi's Daughter (Cassian Andor x reader/Star Wars Obi-wan Kenobi) @foundationsretail @haideehaids

A Guardian's Princess (Peter Quill x reader fic) @abaker74 @klarex @foundationsretail

#iron heart #tony stark x daughter!reader #tasm spiderman x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #spider's backup #tasm peter parker #tasm andrew garfield #tasm!peter parker x reader #her life means everything #klaus mikaelson x forbes reader #klaus mikaelson x reader #caroline forbes x sister reader #the jedi's daughter #cassian andor x reader #obi wan kenobi x daughter reader #a guardian's princess #peter quill x odison reader #peter quill x reader #thor odison x sister reader

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bellarkeselection · 2 years

Text

Attractive Stranger

Tony stark's daughter accidentally opens a doorway to an alternate universe and Andrew Garfield's spiderman comes though and they need to work together to get him back to his universe

@sessa23 @underoostarks @rosie-posie08 @makeshift-prime

Part 2

Part 3

Laying in a chair in my father's lab filled with Iron Man suits while my father was fixing one of the flight thrusters that was broken. I keep tossing a gold ring in the air that he got from someone named Doctor Strange from the battle with the purple guy from space. "Sweetheart can you hand me that rench?" He asked pointing to the one near my foot that I grabbed playing with the ring until it glows. I hand my father the tool gasping as a orange circle portal opens up behind him. My father raised his brows seeing someone walking out wearing a Spider-Man suit. "Kid, how'd you get in here. This is trustpassing?" The stranger removed the mask and I feel my cheeks heating up at seeing its not our Spider-Man.

"I am Peter Parker and I'm Spider-Man." The guy had brown hair and eyes almost matching the young Parker we knew. But there was no way that he just returned since Thanos wiped out half the universe. Getting to my feet I had to admit I found this Peter attractive if he's telling the truth. "You're pulling my leg, you're not Parker." My father pointed his tool towards him as I got to my feet thinking up something. "Climb the wall or web shooters." I moved my hands in a circle before the new Peter jumped up sticking to the ceiling by his right hand questioning. "This proof enough, Ms..." He trailed off staring down at me where I hold my hand out that he shakes. "Y/n Stark."

Suddenly my father pulled me backwards behind his chest eyeing the guy hanging from his ceiling. "Don't touch my daughter, you space creature." He warned raising his hand so his hand blaster attached to his right hand. Peter dropped down his eyes lighting up at what he just saw. "Woah how did you do that. Do you create that in a lab or were you electrocuted by something metal?" My father knitted his eyebrows together trying to be intimidating towards our intruder. "Nevermind that back to my questions. How the hell did you get here and what do you want so called Peter Parker?" Peter shrugged his shoulders moving his hands around rambling off science terms sounding like my father with his technology terms. "I'm not sure how I'm here exactly. My guess is that is has something to do with uh - String theory. Multi dimensional reality and matter displacement..."

I step around my father who glared wanting me to stay away from him being overprotective. I pick up his wrist seeing a tech sort of thing on his wrist needing an answer. "What are these. Did you make them. Because I thought you get bit by a spider?" Peter smiled bending his head down embarrassed about you holding his hand, even though he wasn't apposed to it at all. "I uh - I did. But I made these to control my web shooting...like in a lab type thing. There were a few mess ups..." He rubbed the back of his neck staring down at me since I'm not as tall as him. "I just don't know how to get back to - um my world. Do you think you could help, Y/n?" I smiled softly up to him getting interrupt my father's shouting. "There will be no romantic involvement with my daughter what so ever!" Whipping my head around I groaned back to him feeling my face turning red and apparently Peter was blushing too.

"Dad seriously. Nothing is going to happen he needs our help that's all!" I throw my hands up flipping my hair over my shoulder. He lowers his hand blaster shaking his head with a serious look on his face. He could see that you got embarrassed around this Peter unlike with the one he knew. So he wasn't taking any chances, Pepper your mother would be on your side if she wasn’t away on a business trip. "Mr Stark, I promise I won't date your daughter while I'm here." Peter held his hands up reassuring him hoping to not get shot. My father plopped down in his rolling chair calling for his AI. "Jarvis, see if you can find Thor anywhere on Earth and patch me through to S. H. I. E. L. D." The AI response suprised Peter. "Yes, sir." He glanced down to me with a shocked smile on his face. "It's just like Oscorp. An artificial intelligence, right?" My father nodded his head to his statement. "Smart answer, Parker." One way or another we were going to get this Spider-Man back home.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

I honestly had fun writing what their interaction would be.

#tasm andrew garfield #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm spiderman x reader #tasm spiderman #tony stark #robert downey jr #iron man #marvel #mcu #tony stark x daughter reader #tony stark x reader

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gaymansruse · 2 years

Text

f r e n i m i e s

𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 .𝟎𝟏

TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader [academic rivals??]

Summary → You and Peter never really liked each other, you were the preppy honour roll student that knew everyone and he was the quiet overachiever that usually kept to himself.. What happens when the two of them are forced to work together.

Warnings → Mild swearing, awkwardness between reader and peter because ugh teenage crushes are always awkward. other than that its just your typical academic rivals story sorta.

Word Count → 1.7k+

A/N → I haven't written anything in over a year due to my own laziness and lack of motivation, I don't expect this to be perfect, but this is also my first time posting any of my work. Critcism is welcome! Happy reading <3

The day was passing by slower than usual, you didn't share any classes with your friends and couldn't hang out with them during your breaks because you were helping one of the teachers out with setting up the hall for the yearly play.

It was currently last period and you were exhausted, thinking you only had a another hour to endure until you could go home and sleep.

That is until He walked in.

Peter Parker.

You had forgot of his existence in your brief moment of peace, too bad all nice things come to an end.

There were at least 3 empty seats in class today, but he just had to take the one right next to you.

"[y/l/n]" He said, smirking at you, as if knowing he ruined your mood.

"Parker." You said in return, annoyence very clear in your tone. "You look greasy today, did you forget to shower?"

"Yes actually, thank you for noticing, who knew you paid such close attention to me."

"It's not that unoticable if you look shiny."

"Isn't that a good thing? You look shiny constantly."

"What? No I don't." Feeling somewhat self concious you pulled out your small pocket mirror to check. Of course he was lying.

"Wow, you really care about what I say."

"Shut up and do your work, Parker."

"Whatever you say, [y/l/n]."

Does he always have to get the last word in? Why is his voice so unbelievably annoying? How do you forget to shower? How does he still look so cute though? Ew no, he doesn't stop thinking that, he's gross and greasy and him and his charming stupid smile arent't gonna win today.

You snap back to reality when the teacher starts reading out names in pairs. Shit, you should have been listening.

"Peter Parker and [y/n] [y/l/n]."

H e h ?

"Looks like we're partners now [y/l/n]"

"Oh god no." You whisper to yourself, Peter clearly heard considering he had a shit eating grin on his face.

"So.. Partner, Whatcha feel like doing for the project?"

"I- ugh, I wasn't paying attention."

"Hmm? What was that?"

"I said I wasn't paying attention." I whisper yelled at him. something tells me he already knew, because that stupid smile stayed the same.

"Well that just means I have to come over to your house so we can discuss it."

"What why? We have like 40 minutes of the lesson left anyway."

"Too late, I already made up my mind."

"Parker, I'm serious, the rest of this lesson is probably to discuss our projects anyway."

"Oh well, you're clearly not paying attention, so might as well do it when we get to your place."

"Oh my lord, if you're so insistent on this why can't we just go to your place?"

"Oooh, you just wanna see where I sleep don't you? What a freak."

"No, I'm just not allowed boys over."

"O-oh."

"Yeah, o-oh."

"Well then I guess I could let you over to my place, just be warned I live with my aunt May so.."

"I just hope she's cooler than you."

•❀•

The rest of the lesson was unusually silent between you and Peter, usually there was some type of comment here and there, but for some reason he didn't say anything.

You knew you hadn't done anything wrong, but it sorta felt like it you had.

When the bell rang you quickly packed up and waited for Peter to do the same, but it seemed like he was taking his time.

"Can you hurry up?"

"Are you really that excited to come over?"

"No, I just want to get this over and done with."

"Right, sure you do."

He had finially picked up his stuff and walked out of the classroom without looking back to see if you were following.

You tried to catch up to him without bumping into anyone, continuously saying sorry, excuse me and pardon me until you finally caught up to him.

How does he walk so fast.

"Do you have to walk so fast?"

"Do you have to walk so slow?"

"I was not walking slow."

"Seems to me like you were."

"You're a child."

In response he just gave a cute annoying grin and grabbed your arm so you wouldn't fall behind again.

Blood rushed to your cheeks and your skin tingled where he was holding. You wanted to push his arm off but then again you didn't. Why? you didn't know.

•❀•

He didn't live super far away from the school, but far enough that it was about a 30 minute walk to his apartment. When you got there a voice instantly greeted Peter in a cheerful tone, not realising you were there yet.

She was faced away from the door, stirring a pot of sauce over the stove.

"Hey aunt May! How was your day?"

"Oh my day was just fine dear." She turned around with a bright smile on her face, her aura bright and welcoming. Her eyes shifted to me, her smile somehow growing wider.

"Hello, I'm [y/n]. It's lovely to meet you." You couldn't help but smile as you spoke, something about her just made you so unbelievably happy.

"Oh Peter's told me all about you dear." She walked up to you with her arms wide and hugged you.

Peter's talked about me?

You look over to Peter to see him cringing at the statement, but there's still a light tink of pink on his cheeks. "Okay aunt May, that's enough, we need to do our school work now, so if you could please stop holding her hostage, that'd be great."

"Holding me hostage? I'd much rather stay out here with May than go work on our project with you."

"Well too bad." He said while grabbing my arm and dragging you to his room.

"I'll be back for you May!"

She let out a hearty laugh and went back to cooking.

Once in Peters room he sat down on his bed and pulled out his school books, while you stood awkwardly near the door.

"You can sit down on my bed if you want, I also I a chair near my desk too." He said while looking up at you. Before you could answer though, he spoke again. "I'm gonna go for a quick shower, don't wanna be all greasy. I'll be right back."

And at that he sped out of the room to where you would assume the bathroom is.

I guess it wouldn't hurt to look around..

You set down your bag on his bed and glanced around the room, he had posters of various different franchises, his bed situated in in the corner near the window and the sheets ruffed and untidy from when he sad on it.

Near the door was his desk that had several books on string theory and quantum physics. Interesting. But tthere were also sheets that were filled with his writing on different formulars, you weren't exactly interesting in looking at chemisty equations so you moved your eyes elsewhere.

You noticed there was a book peeking out from under his bed, you picked it up to see there was no title, and its pages where quite thick.

You flicked through it, realising it was all pictures of random things, with a few words written underneath them, you kept skimming through until you saw a picture of yourself, and the words underneath read.

Looking at her is like looking at the sun, it hurts but it's just so beautiful to not look at. Knowing she'll never like me in the same way just means I can admire her beauty from afar.

Just as you were about to flip to another page, you heard the door open. "I told you I'd be quick." Peter walked in with a smile, his hair wet from the shower, and his clothes looked baggier and more comfy.

His smile dropped when he saw what you was holding, and it turned into a frown when he saw what page you were on. "Did nobody ever tell you not to snoop?"

"I'm sorry Peter, I didn't know what it was and when I realised I couldn't stop looking."

"It's not that you couldn't, you just didn't want to. How self centered to you have to be to look through peoples stuff thinking you can do what you want?"

His saddness quickly turned to anger, and rightfully so, you shouldn't have looked through his stuff.

"Peter I'm really sorry, truly."

"You are so spoiled to think I'd forgive you for this."

His voice raised a bit but not loud anout to alert aunt May.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, I'm just saying sorry, I can leave now if you want."

At that point he noticed how sad you looked, like you genuinely meant what you were saying. "No, no. It's fine, it's not that big of a deal, I shouldn't have gotten mad."

"But you did and that's totally fine. I shouldn't have looked through your stuff."

That's when you realised what exactly you had read, and blood rushed to your cheeks.

After a minute of silence, neither of you knowing what to say, you asked, "Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?"

"What you wrote."

"Yeah.. Does that bother you?" His eyes flickered down to the floor, as if waiting for you to say it does, that you don't like him.

"No, it doesn't. I just thought you hated me is all."

"How could anyone hate you, even when you're mean, you're nice."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Oh."

"How do you feel about me?"

"I- I think I like you.."

"You think?"

"I don't know, I'd like to get to know you more."

"I think thats a great idea."

"Really?"

"I mean yeah, I didn't expect a love confession or anything, maybe just an agreement to a date."

"I can do that."

"So you'll go on a date with me?"

"Yeah, I will."

"Cool, cool, cool."

That's when he started smiling, "So, how long have you liked me?"

"I said I think I like you Parker, don't get it twisted."

"Right, right. That's why you agreed to go on a date with me."

"I can easily take it back."

"Yeah you could, but you don't want to."

#tasm spiderman x reader #tasm spiderman x yn #tasm spidermanx you #fanfic #tasm peter parker x you #tasm peter parker x yn #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #tasm peter parker oneshot #tasm x reader #spiderman #peter parker

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onlyfreds · 2 years

Note

bestie ofc i have to request something andrew related.

thinking ‘🎉serendipity’ with tasm peter! to the song single by the neighborhood?

this is very odd i know but it’s a personal belief of mine that tasm!peter is and was a tumblr kid. he grew up in the 2010’s how could he not be

Hey bestie! So, as all my Andrew Garfield/(TASM) Peter content are on my sideblog (@/the-amazing-simp), I decided to post the blurb there instead.

Nevertheless, thank you so much for participating in my celebration and I had so much fun writing this!

Single | TASM Peter

#gabriella’s 1.3k rom com night #tasm peter parker #tasm andrew garfield #tasm fanfiction #tasm fic #tasm imagine #tasm peter parker smut #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter x you #tasm spiderman #tasm smut #tasm spiderman x reader

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welovelouisandbucky · 3 months

Text

Me: *gets periods* *sighs*

Also me: *searches x reader period fics on Tumblr/ao3*

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luveline · 6 months

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hiiii jade!!!! could i please request something with peter with reader who’s maybe put on some weight recently and is insecure about it?? (totally not self indulgent at all) i totally get it if you’re not comfortable writing that stuff though so no pressure

hi lovely! ty for requesting. fem, 1k

cw for negative weight talk/ weight gain

Everybody gains weight during the holidays, you think, tracing your figure in the mirror. Though it's not strictly holiday season yet, it's edging toward the end of the year. Maybe my new year's resolution should be losing a few pounds.

There's a thunk of the bedroom window being yanked open and footsteps across the floor. You tense until your hear Peter panting for breath, likely having swung to you at high speed, or fresh from a fight with an usurped criminal.

You rush back into your t-shirt, knowing exactly what path he'll walk. He barrels into the bathroom, sees you at the mirror and smiles so wide his cheeks look fit to burst. "Hey," he says, peeling the suit off and exposing his boxers to you without shame, "hey hey hey. Can I persuade you in with me?" He nods toward the shower.

"Not this time, Pete."

"Too bad," he laments.

You look away as he strips out of his underwear. The shower turns on and he takes you by the hips to move you out of his way with a murmured apology, near lost to the drum of the spray. Peter has moments where he doesn't know his own strength, but the majority of the time he treats you like you're something precious.

"Stay in here!" he demands as he pulls the curtain shut.

"I'm not going anywhere." You close the toilet and sit on the lid. "Tough day protecting the people?"

"Apart from tripping into a deceptively large pothole, it was fine. Why won't you come in here with me? I wanna rub your shoulders."

"You want me to wash your hair."

"Exactly. So get naked and get in here. Don't make me beg."

You really don't want to, and you're not going to, but it's not a big problem. Peter doesn't truly mind, he just loves you. "What do you mean, deceptively big? Like, knee height? Higher?"

"Mid thigh, I'd say. The people of New York are never gonna let me live it down. One guy was recording me and said he was gonna put it on YouTube for the ad money."

"Anything else?"

He gives you the rundown, describing what perps he faced and an older man he helped use an ATM machine. You hum distractedly, pinching at the fat where it spreads on your thigh, sitting down as you are.

He sticks his face through the curtain gap, hair slicked to his cheeks. "What're you doing?"

"You told me to stay, so I'm staying."

He's nervous for a split second, glancing back into the shower as though there's an answer there waiting for him before angling himself toward you fully, his naked chest dripping and shining in the bathroom light. "Okay, fine, we need to talk about something. But I want you to know that you forced my hand here. Okay?"

"Okay." You nibble the inside of your lip, used to his theatrics. "What have I done?"

"It's not something you've done. It's something you are. I can't even say it. I," —he pulls the curtain in front of his face, moves it aside again– "just need to tell you. Lately it's like you don't even realise how beautiful you are and I'm tired of it. You're radiant. Like, glowing."

Your recent internal debate must show on your face, that doubt, because he gives you a steadying smile. "Really, really beautiful," he says more seriously.

It's easy to smile at him. "Thank you, Pete." You scoop his suit off of the floor. "I'll go scrub the tetanus out of this in the kitchen sink."

"Wait–"

He can't just get out with suds in his hair, giving you the perfect escape plan. You have ten minutes to yourself filling the sink with soapy water and steeping the fabric before he's out of the bedroom in pyjamas, trousers tucked into his socks and hair damp from ferocious towel scrubbing. "You're such a– such a– thing," he decides. "I'm telling you you're beautiful and you walk off so you don't have to hear it? What's wrong with you?" His voice slips into a kinder register. "You do know you're pretty, right? I'm not just saying it to say it."

"I'm just feeling icky," you confide.

"About what?"

You want to tell him, you find. "You know how I've gained weight?"

He doesn't need any more explanation. Peter knows you've gained weight, you've mentioned it to him, and it's visual, and he can likely tell whenever he decides to flex his strength. "What, and you think that makes you less pretty?" He puts a damp hand behind your neck to bring you forward. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, a little."

He kisses you. His nose bumps your nose, his lips crushed to your as he holds you in place. Despite this, it isn't an overly rough connection. It's definitely not shy. "You're beautiful," he says in the space between your lips.

"It doesn't suit me–"

"It does. It really fucking suits you. Have you seen yourself? You couldn't look better."

"Even when I was thinner?"

"You look just as perfect then as you did now." His intensity fades and he encourages you back enough to see your face, his thumb rubbing a short line into your neck. His brows are furrowed, dark eyes darker for it. "Weight isn't a factor."

"No, but you have to say that."

"I don't. Not really. I'm sure there are a thousand shitty guys who'd tell you something different, but I'm not– I love you, the whole you. I like you like this." He grins. "Which should be obvious."

You tsk at him, to his delight, his laughter boyish as he buries his face in your neck with a hug, kissing a messy circle up and into the soft line of your jaw. You trap him there without thinking, chin hooked down, squirming as he blows hot air into your skin.

"I've been putting it on too," he says. "It's happy weight."

"It's not happy weight for you, Pete, it's just more muscle."

"It makes you happy, doesn't it?" he jokes, smiling and kissing and hugging you all at once. "Just like it does on you for me."

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parkerpeter24 · 4 months

Text

quiet temptations

pairing ➳ tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

word count ➳ 2.3k

warnings ➳ SMUT. characters are 18+ and MINORS DNI. this contains depictions of fingering, oral (m recieving). fluff, peter being sweet but also horny-

summary ➳ you’re awfully quiet but peter can’t seem to take that.

“is everything alright?” peter mumbled as he laid beside you. your back was to him, his arm wrapped around you, “you’re not talking.”

the bed you were laying on was warm, a thin blanket over the sheets because you got extra cold during the winters and a quilt that covered you and peter both. your fingers danced against the wall adjacent to the bed, feeling the cold plaster contrasting peter’s own fingertips that danced on your waist, under your sweatshirt.

“you gonna talk?” he placed a kiss on your hair that was loosely tucked behind your ear, making it fall over your eyes. chuckling when he heard you groan and push the lock of hair back in its original place, “so.. no?”

you sighed softly.

“that’s alright.” peter responded, feeling as if he was just talking to himself now, “we don’t need to talk if you don’t want to.”

the sound of your hum was accompanied by peter’s hand gliding under your sweatshirt and caressing your stomach. he was careful, as if you were made up of glass, watching out for any signs of refusal on your face but your features looked solemn, unchanging.

he sighed, not being able to hold in his concern, “alright, just nod if everything is okay…”

he waited for you and surely you did nod after a few seconds, making peter’s worries dissipate.

“what’s gotten you so quiet?” he tried to get you to talk, his fingers taking a detour from trailing upwards, making contact with the elastic hem of your sweatpants– which originally belonged to him, “‘cause one way or another, i’m gonna hear that pretty voice.”

you felt your face heat up but peter still didn’t notice any change in your expression. if he couldn’t see the blinking of your eyes and sense changing breathing pattern, he’d have assumed you were asleep.

“at least tell me you want this.” he mumbled into your neck, pressing his lips against your exposed skin.

“yeah.” you mumbled and peter wasted no time in sliding his hand under the fabric of your lower, arm holding your body against him. you let out a soft breath as his fingers travelled lower. his middle finger slid your panties to the side before making contact with the skin. he pressed soft kisses to your neck before his nimble finger delved into your folds.

a leg pressed between both of yours, parting your thighs as he nestled a warm hand against your sex.

you let out a soft sound, clutching onto the quilt. his finger sank deeper until he found the earliest bit of your arousal and pulled it out, wanting to spread the wetness everywhere.

his finger travelled up to your clit, circling around it and you bit your lip when he fucked it back into you, knuckle deep. he groaned softly, loving the way your muscles almost clenched his finger.

he repeated his actions a few more times until you couldn’t hold back the soft needy moans that he beyond waited to hear. you felt his teeth sink into the skin of your neck before he sucked that spot, soothing the sting from the bite.

you moaned when he curled his finger, trying to search for a spot that would make your sounds louder. his finger dipped into you inch by inch every time, showing he was in no hurry.

peter’s arm was strongly keeping you pressed against himself as you started to arch your back. he could tell you were getting needy but he wished to hear something from you– even though he was loving the musical moans you were letting out.

he pressed his ring finger into the mix, adding it when he pumped them into you the next time. his face pressed further into your hair when you tried to get away. he could tell you needed more– you were writhing, trying to grind your hips into his already hard cock– but he kept going at the slowest pace he could. one brush of his fingers against your most intimate spot and your lips parted in a loud gasp.

you tried to arch your back which only led to peter’s arm pressing harder against your abdomen. his lips were pressed together, letting out soft hums which accompanied each one of your moans as if encouraging you.

he pulled out both his fingers, fucking in again and then back out and in again until it became a faster rhythm. squelching sounds filled the mostly silent room as his leg parted yours even further.

peter rolled his fingers into you continuously, the heel of his palm nudging against your clit which had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, “pete-” you gasped, “m-more.”

the desperation in your voice made peter grind into your ass. his fingers fucked you faster, holding your legs apart, curling them into you just right until you were jutting your hips, chasing your high.

“good girl.” peter mumbled, “keep it up, baby.”

his fingers moved continuously in and out of you. he could tell you were close with the way you clenched his fingers, however before the coil in your abdomen burst, his fingers pulled out of you, a soft wet sound following it– completely opposite to the loud whine that left your mouth.

“oh my god- why’d you stop?!”

“now you wanna talk?” he mumbled into your hair.

you felt your cheeks heating up further than they were. you hid your face into the pillow, but peter wasn’t letting that happen. he tugged at your chin with his free hand, “oh, baby. trust me, i want you to cum.”

you whined, biting your lip softly at his dirty words. you wondered if peter came prepared for this because no other day would you have expected such filthy words escaping his lips. he’d never done so before in all the times you two were intimate.

he turned you around gently, slowly pressing his forehead against yours as he brought up his fingers to his own lips, sucking them clean. he moaned at the taste as his tongue swirled around the digits, sending a wave of shivers up your spine and arousal to your core.

the second his fingers were released from between his soft, warm lips, your own pair replaced them, tasting remnants of yourself on his lips. you moaned softly, pressing your chest up against his.

“want you.” you breathed out heavily.

peter only shook his head, “not until you tell me what’s with the silence.”

“huh-” your brows pulled together in confusion, “you’re really not gonna-”

“first you tell me what happened.” he pecked your lips once, twice, and a few more times.

you sighed, pursing your lips as you tried to formulate what to say to him– or rather how.

when peter saw you struggle, opening your mouth and then closing it, he brushed a thumb against your cheek, “it’s okay, you should take your time.”

you nodded, feeling the warmth of his hand transfer to your cheek as your eyes met. his chocolate brown eyes swam with what you could identify as pure adoration.

“until then…” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss you.

soft at first, it escalated when he brushed his tongue past your lips, quickly finding yours in a slow yet passionate dance. peter pressed you against the mattress, handling the covers to stay over your bodies.

he wasted no time in moving his lips to your neck, hands going to hold your thighs apart as his thumb now brushed against your clothed thigh, kneading gently as his teeth nipped at your collarbone.

you gasped softly, letting him do as he pleased with you. as you held the back of his head with one hand, the soft, brunette sea of hair engulfed your fingers.

peter moved his hands to the hem of your sweatshirt, wasting no time in sliding it up past your chest, careful enough that you weren’t exposed to the coldness of the room. he dived under the quilt, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, the other being knead in the palm of his fingers.

you gasped as peter’s tongue flicked the bundle of nerves, your stomach flush against his torso.

you could feel his lips curl into a smirk before he switched, rolling your sensitive left nipple between his slender fingers as he licked and pulled the right one in his mouth.

you were getting fidgety, squirming under peter as he felt your grip tighten on his locks, not enough to hurt. he moaned against your skin, placing a few kisses right under your breast, moving lower, now seeming in a hurry.

“pete-” you almost pleaded, finding your voice breathy.

his hands travelled under the pair of sweatpants, making quick work of sliding them down as he traced your thighs, down to your knees before you felt the material slide off you.

you lifted the quilt slightly, just wanting to get a glimpse of peter. the few rays of light that touched him weren’t fast enough to warn you as his lips pressed to the wet patch over your panties. you gasped and threw your head back.

you felt peter’s hot breath and the muffled sound of his moan from under the blanket. he pushed your thighs apart, diving deeper as his nose pressed against your clit, the fabric thick enough to make you grit your teeth, wanting his lips and tongue on you.

maybe peter heard the clenching of your teeth or the way that your hand found home in the tufts of his hair again but he was eagerly pushing down the material past your legs throwing it down to the floor.

you felt peter’s forearms lift your thighs as he shuffled closer to your core, licking up a bold stripe across your folds. your back arched but peter’s grip was keeping you against him.

for a moment you heard him groan as he retracted, “what’s wrong?” you breathed out, supporting yourself up on your elbows.

you almost laughed when his hand creeped out from under the quilt, holding his fogged up glasses out for you to take. with a chuckle, you held the frame between your fingers, quickly placing them to the bedside table.

as you laid your back against the bed, peter was quick to wrap his lips around your clit. you let out a moan as he licked and sucked on the bundle of nerves.

he held onto your thighs, keeping you firm against his lips as he explored the very intimate part of you. his tongue darted out, poking at your entrance, but not giving you enough time to notice that as he slid the muscle deeper against your walls.

you moaned, pressing a hand over your mouth to muffle the lewdest sound you’ve ever made. the bridge of his nose poked against your clit and peter only pressed deeper as his tongue delved in and out of you. it seemed as if he would see no tomorrow if he stopped making out with your dripping hole.

you arched your back, “pete- oh god-”

you felt him hum against you, sending your jaw drop open as you finally felt the pleasure crash all over your body. your toes curled and eyes rolled to the back of your head. you could swear this was the hardest you’d ever come before as goosebumps covered your arms.

you let out a sigh as peter helped you ride out your high, keeping up his ministrations. finally stopping, he placed a soft kiss over your clit, sending your body flinching at the action.

when peter climbed out from under the blanket, surely he looked like he needed to clean up. his chin dripping with your arousal and forehead all sweaty from being so long under the warm quilt.

“you need to wash your face.” you chuckled, brushing back a few locks of hair that were sticking to his forehead.

“and you need to tell me what’s wrong.” he mumbled and you sat up, adjusting your sweatshirt back down.

“it’s nothing-”

“and don’t you dare say it’s nothing.” he sat up as well, beside you, wiping mouth with the sleeve of his shirt– that thing was going in the washing machine the second this conversation was over.

“it’s… just… exams and stuff. you know how anxious i get.” you sighed.

“i know… but you don’t have to! there’s still a week left before-”

“okay, that may seem like a long time but trust me, it’s not.” you looked up at him, meeting the brown eyes that held concern, “i’m sorry, i… i was just overwhelmed. didn’t feel like talking.” you almost pouted, making peter pull you against his chest as he hugged you. you in turn wrapped your arms around his waist.

“trust me, i know how stressful exams can be. but it’s nothing you haven’t been through before.” he placed a soft kiss against your hair, making you hug him even tighter, “you got this, beautiful.”

“yeah, yeah, yeah. easy for you to say.”

he chuckled, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you’re like, i don’t know, the smartest guy of our whole generation.” you mumbled against his shoulder.

peter shrugged at that comment, “hey, even i watch youtube videos for help sometimes.”

“yeah, but you grasp every concept so quickly, like you don’t even have to try.” you looked up at him, blinking when you realised how that must have sounded, “...that was supposed to be a compliment.”

“you’re adorable.” peter chuckled, “how about we study together? i’ll make a time table; and don’t worry, it’s not going to be super chaotic, just a simple time table; and we can figure it out together. how’s that sound?”

you smiled at him, feeling your heart swell at the amount of his care, “sounds perfect.”

his smile mirrored yours, “thanks for telling me.”

you gave him a grin.

“now since i told you, can we fuc-”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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biblio-smia · 1 month

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some fake dating with peter parker plzz<3

"Can I have your number?"

The horrifying question pulls you out of your work and into a waking nightmare as your eyes fall onto a boy, around your age, standing over your lonely library table, phone held out towards you expectantly.

You laugh, because it's your first instinct to, forced and too loud.

"Oh, I'm okay," you say nervously, hoping it's enough to wave him off.

The boy stands, stunned, wondering if you'd misheard. "I asked for your number," he repeats through his own forced laugh, inching closer to you, his phone only inches from your face.

Discomfort pricks at your skin as you bite your lip, unsure now of what to do. Your eyes stare directly at your now dim computer screen, your own reflection visible, your eyes not daring to look up at the stranger's.

As the screen of your laptop finally turns black you catch the glimpse of another stranger behind you before your head snaps to the shuffle of movement beside you. Another boy, this one tall and brunette, slides into the chair next to yours comfortably. Two pairs of eyes have fallen on him, yours particularly wide in surprise.

God, why you?

"Hey," he says with an easy smile, eyes focused solely on you. "Sorry I'm late." His hand reaches for yours, fingers linking together too naturally.

You recognize him now - you've seen him around campus a few times, definitely, but you're sure you've never spoken to each other before today.

"It's fine," you say softly, trying to wipe the shock off of your face to not flush all this new stranger's efforts down the drain.

"You could've just said you had a boyfriend," the boy standing over you scoffs, phone finally tucked away and arms crossed.

Words falter as he walks away - though your attention is brought back to your hand, still interlocked with a stranger's. Your intense gaze makes the boy next to you redden and suddenly retract his hand, nerves beginning to pick up now that he has no audience to act for.

"I'm so sorry," he begins immediately. "You looked really uncomfortable, I'm sorry if I made you more uncomfortable." His hands are raised in surrender while his knee bounces nervously, eyes glancing for a quick escape.

"That was pretty quick thinking," you offer with a small smile. "Thanks for getting rid of him."

The boy smiles back, just slightly. There's still guilt in his eyes as he looks over you and your makeshift work station, hands moving to grab his few personal items.

"I'm sorry, I totally interrupted your study session," he laughs awkwardly, shouldering the bag he'd dropped on the table so carelessly earlier.

"Well, technically..." The rest of your thought fades as you focus on the sudden flinging of a bag back onto the table.

Your eyebrows furrow as you tilt your head, ready to ask the boy why he'd thrown his bag back down immediately before you notice how intensely he's looking at you.

"I don't think it's safe for me to go yet."

Something about his gaze tells you not to look behind you despite how badly you want to; you're sure it has something to do with a certain guy from earlier.

"I can take care of myself," you defend.

"I'm sure you can," he says in a tone so genuine it catches you off-guard. "I just can't, in good conscious, leave until he does."

Your lips part slightly at how much care a stranger holds for your well-being. It's a little strange, but not in the way that makes you shiver; strange in a way that makes your eyes wide and your cheeks warm.

"We could leave first," you suggest, closing the lid of your abandoned laptop. "I'm pretty much done anyway." It was a blatant lie, but there was no way for him to know that. Really, your motivator was not wanting to hold up any more of his time; how indebted would you be?

"Are you sure?" He only moves to pick his things up when you nod, accepting the interlocking arm you offer with red cheeks. He walks with you out of the library, stopping a good distance away from the primary doors and hopefully, any onlookers.

"Thank you..."

"Peter," he all but laughs, finding too much humor in the fact that you don't even know his name. "Peter Parker."

"Thank you, Peter. That was very nice of you."

"I try," Peter grins easily at you, taking a few steps backward as he waves goodbye. "See you around?"

"Yeah!" You call, though it's not certain; you don't have his number (as ironic as that is). "I'll see you!"

As Peter's back turns towards you and yours eventually turns towards him, you can't help the tingling of your fingers where they had been interlocked with his.

Nothing is certain. As far as you know, you may not see him for another couple of weeks.

Your next meeting will just have to be written in the stars.

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker #spiderman x reader #tasm spiderman x reader #andrew garfield peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #andrew garfield #tasm #v + peter #v writes

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reidslovely · 1 year

Text

Casual (Sam UTSL x Fem! Reader)

Pairing: Sam (Under the Silver Lake) x Fem! Reader Content Warning: Smut 18+. Oral sex female receiving, arguing, low-key gaslighting(?), ambiguous ending. Authors Note:This may flop. Oh well. I know you guys are still expecting the last chapter of That’s the Price..it is coming I (loosely) promise! I’m about to start working on it after this. As always please reblog and leave a comment if you want love you! Also please don’t be upset I use tasm hashtags I’m just trying to put it out there sorry.

Her feet were placed on the dashboard of the mustang, heels tossed on the floorboard and her dress bunched around her hips. “Does it go back any further than this?” (Y/N)’s voice came out slightly more annoyed than she had intended. Sam, who was knee deep in floorboard, fumbled around under the seat trying to push the passenger seat back further.

“It should. I’m trying okay.” He bit back bitterly

“I wasn’t complaining, I just worry ab-”

“My leg is..” Her body slammed back as the seat went all the way back as he spoke. “...fine. No flare up in months.” Sam mumbled, kissing her inner thigh. His stubble tickling the soft skin there, (Y/N) rested her head back against the headrest. She just wanted to relax. The day, Sam included, had been so draining. From an early morning meeting, to the coffee burn on her thigh from a painful spill, and not to mention the sudden dinner with Sam’s mom that gave her no time to shop. She hadn’t had any time to stop and breathe.

She gasped as Sam pressed a soft kiss to the red burn mark on the top of her thigh. “You need to be more careful.” He laughs before dragging his lips down her thigh to her cunt. His nose pressed against her clit as he breathed her in.

“I need to find a job that isn’t just me getting coffee for old white men.” She says waiting for him to move.

“I’ll put you in my movie.” He said licking a long strip up her slit, his tongue circling against her clit for a few seconds before wrapping his lips around it. The conversation may as well have poured out of her ears word by word, she couldn’t think of a response. Her hands reached down to grab his hair pulling at the brown locks. Her eyes closed, her mouth dropping open as he continued licking and sucking at her clit like he had never been here before. His mouth traveled further down, his tongue dipping in her wetness, his nose pressed against her clit. The pressure pulled a low, tired moan from her. Her hand pulled at his hair harder, as she held back a laugh. Sam's eyes looked up at her, she knew he had a smile on his face, she could feel it against her.

He pulled his mouth off of her, his middle finger creeping its way into her. “Don’t you think you look a little pathetic? You're spread out like a whore in the car, behind a restaurant anyone could come out and see us.”

Sam spoke with his normal cadence, low and monotone. But the way he looked at her drew her in, it was something so dirty like this would be their best kept secret. He acted as if this was the most public place they had ever done something like this.

Pumping another finger into her, he smiled his head dropping against her thigh watching himself finger fuck her. “You’re so close huh? You wanna cum?” (Y/N) nodded her head, swallowing her moan as he pressed his thumb against her swollen clit rubbing slowly.

(Y/N) came around his fingers with a small moan, her eyes closing and her head dropping to the side. “Fuck” They both breathed out, Sam pulled his fingers out of her licking his fingers clean before digging in the glove compartment for a tissue. She took it from him, starting to clean herself up. “How was that?” He asks, “You look less tense now.” He laughs crawling over her and into the driver side. (Y/N) nodded her head, turning to look at him with a smile as she reached over to kiss him. It was a quick peck before he grabbed her panties from her hand, shoving them in the glove box.

Regardless of what had just happened, and however he looked at her in the moment, the rush of what they really were washed back over her.

“Casual..we’re just casual.”

Was his response this morning when she asked if this dinner meant they were exclusive now. Hearing those words fall out of his mouth filled her with less upset and rage then filled her now. A hot feeling of either embarrassment or heat rushed through her chest, and suddenly she felt like she was a puppy being used to make a Hollywood starlet look better.

Turning her body away from him she put her shoes back on, wishing she had her underwear to make her feel less bare.

“You okay?”

He asked, his clean hand reaching out to brush hair off her face. “You look like you’re gonna be sick.” (Y/N) swallowed the lump in her throat and put on a smile placing an undeserving, yet loving kiss on his palm.

“I’m fine.” She responded, opening the car door and stepping out. She fixes her dress, checking herself in the reflection of the car door, before walking around to meet Sam. Putting on a good face she took her hand in his and leaned against him as they walked around to the front of the restaurant. “She’ll like you.” Sam says his hand on her forearm. “Doesn’t matter if she does.” (Y/N) shrugs, her hand rubbing the fabric of his jacket. “If we are just casual it doesn’t matter.” “I..” Sam starts his sentence thinking of what to say. “God. You literally take everything to heart, I didn’t mean it like that. You should know.” He rants, the annoyance in his voice prominent. (Y/N) huffed, pulling her arm out of his starting to walk away. Sam grabbed her arm gently, turning her to face him, his hands finding her face.

“No, no that’s not what I meant, I'm sorry.”

“I don’t wanna know what you meant.” She yells at first, lowering her voice as the sentence goes on. “Okay, you’ve done this all week. You tell me how much you like me, how much I have improved your life. But then you turn around to your loser fucking friends and say that we aren’t going anywhere and we are just casual. Your friends don’t even know my actual name, but I’m meeting your mom? Make it make sense Sam, because I’m really fucking lost. I have clothes at your place, I literally spent an hour looking for my favorite bra today at my apartment and I couldn’t find it. Do you know why I couldn’t find it? Because it’s in your dresser, at your apartment where we cook together, I clean for you, we’re we share a bed but no of course we are just casual.”

Once it started there was no plugging the feelings back up, she hadn’t cried like she thought she would. She didn’t even really have time to process what she was feeling until the words had left her mouth. The two traded dumbfounded looks, neither knowing what to say. “I didn’t know-”

“That I knew?”

Sam nodded, his hands dropping to her shoulders rubbing softly. “Or that you felt that way..I just thought you..we..didn’t want anymore than what we had. You never said anything, had you told me.”

(Y/N) could have screamed, it was like he wasn’t hearing her. “I have been telling you, for weeks.”

“Not explicitly, I can’t pick up on your weird girl hints. I thought you were just leaving stuff at my apartment to leave it.”

As she opened her mouth to respond, an older woman cleared her throat looking at them.

“Excuse me.”

Sam took a deep breath and headed into the dining room, heading towards his mothers table. He just dropped it, god she hated him so much right now. The thought of grabbing the champagne from its chilled box and smashing it on the ground was too strong. Instead, she closed her eyes and latched onto his arm, calming herself down, falling back into their game her eyes opened no longer glossy now holding a faux happiness. His mother stood, greeting her with a hug complimenting her dress. She smiled and mumbled a quick thank you, before settling next to Sam who was quick to hold her leg under the table. She caught a bit of the conversation here and there, adding her small useful remarks whenever needed. Thinking she was playing the perfect role of girlfriend.

“You seem distracted (Y/N), everything okay?” The older woman asked downing her third glass of wine, (Y/N) casted her eyes up to her smiling.

“Yeah, huh just work stuff on my mind.” She lies, taking her own big gulp of red wine. “She works too hard, she needs a break, my little journalist.” Sam laughed, his hand stroking her arm as it came to wrap around her. “Well I’m going out to grandma’s house in Long Beach next weekend and staying for a bit, why don’t you two take the week off and come up?”

(Y/N) didn’t know how to respond, truthfully she didn’t know if her and Sams…situationship would last after tonight's dinner. Before she got the chance to respond, Sam was already nodding his head in agreement.

“We’d love it to be a perfect getaway for us, it would be our first couples trip. What do you think babe?” Sam asked, his hand trailing down to grab her hand waiting for her answer. (Y/N) stared at him confused. “I mean sure yeah, I’ll talk to my boss about it. Couples trip, yeah.”

His mom smiled, and exclaimed something of excitement that she couldn’t understand. (Y/N) had already started looking down into Sam’s words: he had never called them a couple before. Is it no longer casual, did her words actually change his mind? Or was it just his mothers presence that caused him to choose his words. Maybe she was just falling back into his game, but that could wait till after dinner.

tags: @helloheyhihowdyheya @nymphonet @bxcketbarnes @sincericida @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @andrews-lovr @raajali3 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @a-lumos-in-the-nox @megmehz @adhdhufflepuff @lunaleah @eevylynn

#tasm peter parker #tasm!peter imagine #tasm andrew garfield #andrew garfield x female reader #sam from under the silver lake #under the silver lake fic #Andrew Garfield x reader #tasm peter x you #tasm spiderman x reader #andrew garfield x you #tasm peter parker x reader

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urrockstar-xe · 3 months

Text

math test - p.parker x fem!reader

posted jan 27th, 2024 3:28 pm

came up with this cutesy idea the other day, hope u enjoy :)

summary: Peter's tired of allowing Spider-Man to be a shitty boyfriend, so he makes up for it the only way he can think of that wouldn't get you in trouble.

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not proofread

wordcount: 0.8k

It was nearing 2 in the morning when Peter slowly lifted his window open from the outside, not so gracefully falling inside once it was a wide enough gap, followed by him stumbling several times as he tried to close his window while simultaneously trying to take off the red and blue spandex suit that so badly needs a wash.

The sound of his old bed frame creaking caught Peter’s attention once he finally pulled on some sweatpants.

He whipped around, his gaze immediately falling to your half-asleep figure in his bed, a familiar sight now, one Peter had adored. Your half-opened eyes tried to focus on his silhouette.

“Shit, hey sweetheart I didn’t mean to wake you” Peter’s whispered apology was laced with a soft muffled tone as he pulled a hoodie over his head, not bothering to fix his hair as he made his way towards his bed. “Didn’t know you were sleepin’ over tonight” He said with a tired smile playing on his lips, the bags under his eyes failing to distract you from the beauty that was your sleep-deprived boyfriend as you merely scooted over for him to join you.

“Supposed to help me study for that test” you mumbled, no malice in your voice, no hints of irritation, not even a slight sadness to your voice at the thought of him forgetting about your plans. All you cared about at this moment was your boyfriend cuddling with you, using all your energy to open your arms for him to slide into.

Peter stopped dead in his tracks, looking down by the nightstand and seeing your backpack on the floor, a math book sitting on the floor beside it next to a few pens. So that’s what he tripped on when he came in.

“Oh, man. I’m sorry, doll. We can work on it first thing in the morning, swear.” Peter promised, giving into what you wanted and sliding in bed next to you, wasting no time in wrapping you in his arms.

“It’s due tomorrow, and I have to leave early for that dumb field trip.” You mumbled into his shoulder, not meaning to but making Peter feel all the worse for forgetting as he softly smoothed his hand up and down your back.

By the time Peter woke up the next morning you had already left, leaving behind a note on his desk.

”don’t think too hard about that test, I’ll just ask if I can have extended time on it. I’m just happy you got home safe”

The little hearts surrounding your name at the bottom and the emphasis on him getting back at all seemed to have the opposite effect on Peter than you had intended.

As now, he just seemed more determined to fix this problem he had made.

You laughed as your friend lifted her arms into the air, taking in a big deep breath as you both finally got off the bus, “freedom!” she exclaimed.

“We have that test in like 30 minutes” You reminded her with a smile, earning a glare in response. “Buzzkill”

You chuckled this time, before watching her lift her finger and point behind you, turning as you followed where she was pointing, “that’s geek charming, what’s he doin’ here?” she asked quietly, expecting you to have an answer as you watched your boyfriend hurry over to you, green folder in his hand.

“No clue, I’ll meet you inside” You smiled at her, watching her nod and smile back in response, walking backward towards the school while she obnoxiously waves and says “Hi, Peter!”

Peter waved back, finally in front of you as he turned his gaze to see you already looking at him, with a soft smile.

“Hey,” Peter matched your smile, holding out the folder to you before you could respond. “For your test, you forgot your math stuff in my room, so”

You smiled, taking it gratefully, “Thanks, Petey. Although I don’t know how much help it’ll be-” Peter cut you off, “I mapped out in your notebook exactly how you can find any answers for the test and explained it in notes how I knew you’d be able to understand” You looked at him in awe as he rambled, watching as he took off his backpack and fumbled with it before pulling out your math notebook and handing it to you. “Peter-” “I almost wish I could take the test for you, I’ve just had so much to do lately as you know who and that’s no excuse for ditching my best girl when she needed my help so I figured this was the least I could do” Peter continued, taking a breath once he had finished.

You set the folder and notebook down on the grass, pulling Peter into a tight embrace. “This is nice” he mumbled into your shoulder, squeezing your waist ever so slightly. “I love you, Peter Parker” You mumbled back, pulling back just enough to set a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you more, now go pass your test and make me proud, you can do that, can’t you, sweetheart?” Peter smiled at you, chuckling as you placed one, two, three more kisses on his mouth before pulling away and grabbing your stuff.

“When I pass, you’re buying me dinner, baby!” You said, beginning to walk away.

“Whatever you want, doll!”

#tasm peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm x reader #tasm x you #tasm x y/n #peter parker imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagines #the amazing spiderman x reader #Spotify

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countrymusiclover · 2 years

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Thinking of writing a fic where TASM Peter Parker falls for Tony Stark's daughter anyone interested????

#possible fic idea?#losing inspiration on some fics #wattpad fanfictions #tasm spiderman x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm andrew garfield #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm spiderman #tony stark #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark x reader #robert downey junior #marvel #marvel fanfic idea #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu x reader

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spidernerdsblog · 1 year

Text

flexible

A/N : another blurb inspired by a prank video. Hope you like this. Let me know what you think.

Summary : you prank your boyfriend by putting him in the positions he puts you in during sex.

Pairing : Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings : mature content

You were hanging out at Peter’s dorm room, sitting on the couch and scrolling through your social media accounts.

“Hey whatcha doing?” Peter asks, walking into the living room. You look up from your phone.

“Nothing, just watching this tiktok on some special yoga poses. Apparently only women can do these very easily.” It was a lie in the video the girlfriend was pranking her boyfriend by putting him in the positions he puts her in during sex.

“That’s rubbish, it just depends on your body’s flexibility.” Peter says.

“You think you’re flexible enough to do these?” a mischievous smirk plays on your lips as you raise an eyebrow baiting him.

“Babe look who you’re talking to. I’m spiderman, I'm flexible AF.” He states placing his hands on his hips with an air of confidence

Oh this is gonna be fun you thought, putting away your phone and standing up from the couch. “Ok let’s see how flexible you are.”

“Yeah, let's do it!” He says excitedly pumping his fist in the air.

“For the first pose you need to lie down on your back.” You instruct as Peter goes to lie down on the floor.

“Now bring your legs up” you tell him and he follows by lifting his legs up. “Yeah, just like that. Now spread them wide all the way”

“Like this?” He spreads his legs wide.

“Yeah and then grab the back of your thighs and pull up.” Holding by the thighs Peter pulls his legs up to his chest and you bite your lip to hide a smile.

“Do you feel it?” You ask.

“Kinda.” He replies.

God he’s so innocent you thought laughing silently to yourself deciding to carry on with the next position.

“For the next pose, turn on your side and bend your knees.” Peter follows your directions and turns on his left side. “Now lift the top leg up.”

He lifts his right leg up as you hum in approval. “Yeah, as high as you can.”

“Ooh I can feel this!” He tells and you purse your lips to keep the giggle from slipping out of you.

“Good now stand up.”

“This one is a bit rough, it's called the bunny hop. So you gotta squat down to your feet.” You explain as he squats down.

“Yeah great, now jump up and down.” Peter starts to hop on his feet. “No, no your feet should be on the ground just move your hips” he does as told and you swear to god watching him do that sent you on the verge of losing all control and laughing out like a maniac.

You quickly schooled your features and said. “Ok so for the last one get on the couch on your knees. Grab on the backrest.”

Peter gets on the couch kneeling and holds onto the backrest as you lift his left leg.

“Now lift this leg up and stick your ass out.” Just then Harry decides to stroll into the living room.

“Looking great Parker.” He opens the refrigerator to grab a beer bottle. “You guys taking a trip to the wild side? Should have asked me would’ve been happy to help.” He says while opening the bottle. Understanding finally dawned upon Peter as he jumped out of the couch with a mortified expression and you burst out laughing.

“Oh my god Y/N! You’re such an evil.” He cried out as he thought of all the sex positions you made him do.

“You don’t have a problem when you put me in those positions.” You tease both of your faces red yours from laughing too hard, his from embarrassment as he stomped back to his room.

“Always wanted to peg that ass.” Harry says, eyes focused at the open door of Peter’s room.

“Shut up Harry!” Peter yells from his room. Chuckling Harry takes a sip of his beer and saunters off to stand beside you, handing you another bottle.

“Pussy.” He mumbles and turns to you with a sultry look. “The offer still stands, you know. Just like I said before you’re welcome to watch…” he eyes you up and down. “Or join.”

Your lips curl into a smirk as you regard him with narrowed eyes. There have been quite a few times where Harry had openly admitted he’s attracted to both of you suggesting you guys should try doing threesome. “I’ll give it a thought.” You say clinking your bottle to his and take a sip.

#peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker blurb #peter parker fanfiction #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter smut #tasm!peter x reader #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield smut #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker x you #harry osborn #spiderman

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devilfic · 5 months

Text

❝late-bloomer❞

plot: you've never been kissed before. on a completely unrelated note, what if your best friend offered to be your first? pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: post-tasm 2, gwen stacy mention, angst, self-deprecating thoughts about being undesirable and insecurity in love, best friends to wouldn't you like to know, eventual fluff, attempts at andrew garfield accurate rambling, he definitely talks you through it I mean who said that. words: 4.3k.

a/n: entirely self-indulgent because I wrote this after crying over being a late-bloomer for an hour ahahaha

Peter is reading something for research when you suck in a breath and finally ask, "What was your first kiss like?"

You hear his voice die in his throat. The small whispering of test results and calculations fall short, but you don't dare to look back. You're hunched forward so he won't see the way your eyes burn and brim with tears unshed because if he did, he'd ask about it and then you'd really start crying. Instead, you busy yourself with your phone, idly scrolling as if your question was pure curiosity alone.

You watch his ankles uncross, hear him sit up and then lean against the headboard again, fumbling for your train of thought, "Uh... sticky, 'cause I was six," Peter laughs, "You should know. You're the one who kissed me."

No matter how many times he tells you this, you can't remember the day you'd been so bold as to plant one right on Peter Parker's lips. You felt like you'd remember that, but you'd been such an impulsive child back them. Bolder. Thicker-skinned.

But Peter remembers, and so does Aunt May who swears up and down that she'd caught it on camera ("If only I could find that damned photo album"). You're the only one who doesn't. It's like it never happened, "No, God... no. I mean like your first real kiss."

"Like with tongue?" You hear the humor in his voice and even your sullen mood doesn't stop you from smacking his knee. "I dunno what you're talking about. That kiss was real to me."

"I'm serious, Pete."

He hums. You're so, so tempted to look back and see what he's thinking, but it would give you away too easily. "It was... it was a kiss. I mean, Gwen- you know. You know. I was crazy about her. I didn't think I just... kissed her."

"How did it feel? Do you know?"

"I felt like I needed to do it. I felt like if I didn't, I'd throw up. Not actually, just... like I'd explode with all the feelings I had for her."

Your finger hovers over a tweet. In your wondering about that feeling of almost nearly exploding, you try to picture that rooftop kiss that Peter had relayed to you between classes, with hushed whispers and childish laughter. It was windy, and I was breathless, he'd said, and I wanted to lay myself bare. And I just... pulled her in. Shot a web and swept her up and kissed her. I think I've lost my mind. You remembered pressing your back against the school lockers to cool yourself as you imagined the scene, the steps it took for you to settle the uneasy churn in the pit of your chest. The euphoria and panic upon realizing that your Peter was growing up.

You felt overwhelmed just imagining it. You barely hear Peter ask why you want to know. "No reason. Was just curious."

You think that Peter accepts that as good enough reason because the room is silent again. You keep scrolling, keep taking subtle deep breaths to keep the tears at bay. You see a picture of a couple on your timeline and scroll faster.

A few minutes of peace pass before Peter broaches the subject again, "What about you?"

"Hm?"

"I don't think you've ever told me about your first kiss."

Your shoulders tense. No good effort hides the strain in your voice, "I haven't?"

A beat passes. You glance over your shoulder and see Peter staring right at you, his lips upturned in a small, resting smile, but his eyes are inquiring. He's trying to read you. Perhaps he's just noticed the heavy cloud hanging overhead. "Nope." He pops the "P". He's waiting.

You could lie. You could say it was Flash Thompson who stole it, mention that field trip to the zoo in middle school when he'd sneaked next to you at the peacock exhibit and pestered you about you and Peter. Peter wouldn't question Flash about it. Even if they'd made amends, any conversation about him would send him over the edge with memories of his childhood bully and how much he pitied you for having your first kiss with him. And all of you were far too old now; Flash Thompson had gone to another state to play football the minute he got his diploma. It'd be so inconsequential, such an easy lie.

But the longer it takes you to deliberate on it, the worse it makes you look. You should've offered up an answer easily, jovially, unbothered. It should be inconsequential. Anything more and Peter would call your bluff because he knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes.

At some point, you feel the brush of a lone finger at the base of your spine and it startles you. Peter's slipped his finger under your shirt, stroking along the middle of your back, "I won't laugh. If that's what you're thinking." He says softly.

Of course Peter wouldn't laugh at you. As much as your relationship was teasing, he knew where you were tender.

But it wasn't laughing you worried about.

"I know." You say, in lieu of a real answer. You fear you've given yourself away.

Now there are two fingers stroking your skin, "You don't... you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," but you can hear the discomfort in his voice when he says it, like the thought that it's something you don't want to tell him concerns him, "it's up to you."

Just lie. Your breath shudders and immediately you regret it. There's no way he hadn't heard that.

Before you can recover, you're feeling the heat of his entire hand on your back now as it slips further up, as he sits up in bed beside you and rests his chin on your shoulder. The closeness of his breath makes you feel claustrophobic all of a sudden, "Hey, hey. I'm sorry. Did I push? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

You struggle to shake your head, but now your eyes are burning again and you don't think you can stop the tears this time, "You didn't." You insist.

"You're crying, bub," he laughs (not mockingly, never mockingly, never when you cry) and reaches a thumb up to brush away the first warm tear, "what's wrong?"

There's a million things you could say. I've never been kissed before, I don't know what it feels like to be longed for like that, I want to be longed for like that, why haven't I been longed for like that? But it all feels so heavy. Peter picks his chin up to kiss your shoulder and that really does it, "It never happened."

Peter's lips still against your skin. Their warmth slowly peels away, though you feel his breath ghost over the curve of your bone, "What hasn't?"

"A kiss. A first kiss, Peter. I've never had one."

"That's..." Peter sounds almost shocked, disbelieving. He never picks up that thought.

You turn your head away and toss your phone onto the bed, no longer interested in pretending you could distract yourself with anything else. You try to shrug your shoulder out from underneath Peter's mouth but he's quick, the hand at your back locking around you and you can't escape him even though you want to, even though you need to get away from his sweet smile and lovely heartbeat that thuds a little faster against your side.

It was already so much to tell him you hadn't had your first kiss yet, to admit to your best friend who—despite popular Midtown High opinion—has always been so irresistible to lovers, that you haven't gone as far as something so... simple. Something teenagers running your old stomping grounds have probably experienced ten times over by now. You don't think you can handle his pity too, "Peter, please."

"There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. Everyone moves at their own pace."

You hiss through your teeth. You don't mean to, but the spite overwhelms you like red hot heat for a minute, "It's easy to say that when you've done it already."

You catch Peter's eye and immediately regret it. His untamed brows are drawn together, expression more analyzing than pitying. Even though you're brimming with feelings, he seems as if he's trying to wade through them, search for the gnarled root at the center of it all.

Then, and he says this so carefully that the meaning takes a moment to catch up with you, "There's nothing wrong with you."

It's the sincerity that does it. You shove his hand off of you, jerk away from him in a scramble to stand, but Peter is fast and lithe and he's always been two steps ahead of you even before the bite. He's up on his feet before even you are, coming to stand in your way when you go to grab for your bag, "Peter, move."

"Look, can we... can we talk about this?"

"I really don't want to. Move."

"Why are you shutting me out?"

"Because I want to go home. Move."

"Is it because of what I said?"

"Yes!" You blurt, growing frustrated the longer he blocks your path, "yes. Because I'm sick of being told there's nothing wrong with me when clearly..." Your voice tapers off, afraid to give him the reason he needs to worry about you, "Please. I'm just tired. It'll go away on its own, it always does, I just can't be here right now."

The standoff between you two lingers, feels like you might have to fight him just to escape. It takes everything in you just to keep eye contact with him and not burst into tears.

Peter clearly doesn't want to let you go. You can see that genius brain of his running every possible scenario in his mind in which he convinces you to stay, cry it out, leave happier than you came. None of them come soon enough. You brush past him when he realizes he's got nothing, and even the hand that grabs for you is halfhearted, shrugged off with little force.

"I'll see you later, Pete."

You let his front door shut on its own.

It hasn't been great.

What typically took a few hours to shake off had settled over you like a dark cloud ever since you'd stormed out of Peter's place. Even though you texted him like everything was fine (and dodged any phone calls so he wouldn't hear the truth with those freakishly good best friend senses of his), you had yet to see him again. Had yet to let yourself be seen.

You told yourself that it was just you missing Peter, and you believed that to be true, but you also believed that when he looked you in the eye and told you "there's nothing wrong with you", you hadn't been prepared for the nakedness of it all. He'd dug deep, right to the source. That kind of thing was hard to move past.

So you avoided him. If he came by your place, you pretended you weren't home. If he showed up at your work to take you to coffee, you lied and told him you had plans with a coworker. It had been several days now and you felt more and more cowardly by the minute.

It was Peter. Of all people, it was Peter. Your best friend. You could tell him anything (most things, some kept a little closer to the heart). You should be able to.

And it was silly. Being embarrassed about not kissing anyone. Plenty of people were in the same boat as you and they didn't ice their best friend out about it.

Ugh, now you were just making yourself feel worse.

You'd had enough. You'd end this pity party today. As you make your way through your apartment door, you promise yourself that after you've showered, after you've made yourself a filling dinner, after you've settled into bed, you'd call Peter and ask him to meet for pizza this weekend. You'd talk like civil adults who understand that life isn't a race. You'd share your couch, laugh about the whole thing, and maybe, just maybe, the hollowness in your chest that longed for someone's desire to fill it would finally-

He's sitting in your kitchen.

Legs dangling off the island, mask rolled up to his nose, and a spoon clattering out of his mouth and into a bowl of ice cream. Your front door shuts gently behind you.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. Then you glance through your bedroom door, cracked open just enough for you to see the breeze rustling your curtains. You turn back to Peter, who's cleaning off his bottom lip of raspberry sorbet. "Did you climb through the window? You have a key."

Peter sets the bowl down beside him, shrugs, "You weren't returning my calls."

Your shoulders sag and you drop your things to the floor, "Peter-"

"No, no," you watch him slide off the countertop and bounce over to you, and the nearness you aren't prepared for makes you back away an inch or two, "No Peter. I'm not Peter. I'm Spider-Man. See?" He gestures to the suit.

You reach your hand up and pinch his exposed cheek, then narrowly avoid his teeth before he tries to nip you, "I'm not in the mood. I said I'd call you later, I'm just... busy."

"Busy avoiding your best friend."

You can feel him trail after you as you walk away, beginning to undress. He catches your coat when you throw it toward the couch and hangs it up all neat on a hook. He kicks your shoes to a wall and tugs your belt from your fingertips once you've undone it. Then, unexpectedly, he hooks said belt around your waist and yanks you back to face him.

The momentum throws you fully into his chest but he's sturdy, unmoving as you grip his shoulders and give him the most hostile look you can muster. You attempt to wiggle out of the trap but he pulls the belt tighter, forcing you closer, and then you start to panic as the space between you both disappears, "I haven't been avoiding you, I just needed space." You quickly explain.

"And I get that," he admits, "but you scared me. I've never seen you like that before. Not with me. Not ever."

Of course he hadn't. It was why you kept all of this a secret in the first place. Because you knew he'd worry, and you knew that there would be nothing he could do to fix it. Not like he usually could.

"It was a... brief lapse in self-esteem. That's all. You're making it into a bigger deal than it should be."

"It's not a big deal?"

"No! That's what I keep trying to tell you."

"So it doesn't matter at all."

"Correct."

"Right."

"It's just an arbitrary milestone that means nothing." You grip the leather of your belt but you're nothing against his superhuman strength. Pleading with your eyes, you do your best not to slip back into that vulnerable place all over again. Peter made you feel safe to do that. Way too safe to do that. "I promise. I'm not avoiding you."

You get sick of staring into the whites of his mask and so you grab the edge of it and pull it up to his hairline, little tufts of curls poking out as his face is fully revealed to you. You stare into those sharp, probing eyes of his, forcing yourself to stand the test of Peter Parker's perception.

Suddenly, you're released.

You stumble back a bit, the belt clanking against the floor, as Peter throws his arms up in defeat, "Alright, alright. I get it. I should've let you breathe the other night. I was just worried, is all."

You smile, "And I appreciate that."

Peter quickly glances at you and then away, making an exaggerated show of kicking imaginary dust off the floor. "First kisses really mean nothing then, huh?"

"Zilch. Nada."

"So... doesn't matter when it is, who it is..."

You watch him carefully, "If this is about when we were six-"

"No, no, I know that didn't count. You don't even remember it," his face contorts in a wince, "I was just thinking. Something."

Your eyes narrow, "Uh-huh."

"Well, I mean, is that why? Because you don't remember it? Or... is it because it was me?"

"The kiss?" Peter blows a raspberry, looking more bashful by the second, and nods without looking at you. "It's... it's because we were six. And we didn't know what we were doing. I was just mimicking what we saw. We didn't know anything."

"And now we do."

"Yeah. What are you getting at, Pete?"

He sits on the back of your couch and kicks his feet out in front of him. "If all that matters is that we both know what we're doing, and a first kiss is just a meaningless milestone to you, then I thought that maybe we could give it another go. You know. So when a real kiss comes along that actually means something, you'll have an idea of how it's supposed to go."

You're six years old again.

You and Peter Parker are sitting in the dirt, mouths covered in sticky ice cream that the summer sun melted right up. You're both talking about Flash Thompson's trip to Florida and the hilarious sunburn he came back with when you spot an elderly couple across the park, pressing their mouths together over and over.

You're looking over at Peter and asking about it, sure it couldn't possibly feel good, and he's telling you that when Uncle Ben kisses May good morning in the kitchen he always looks away because it's gross.

And you're thinking... you start thinking something.

You're thinking it would be funny—that Peter would hate you for it, but you're just so curious—and you're pressing your lips to his so quickly that he doesn't get a chance to pull back before you're giggling in the grass. And May's voice flutters in the background, a shrill and delighted, "I caught that!" that makes you both turn tail and run toward the swings.

Peter's still staring at you, waiting.

Part of you feels like it's pity. Like he doesn't want you to feel bad about yourself. Like he doesn't know how else to fix it, because he has to fix it. He has to fix everything. He has to be your hero.

But the other part? A restless and selfish part wants to take it; it's curious.

You take a step forward, the two of you watching each other, waiting to see if the other might back out at the last second. He stays exactly where he is, legs parting slowly, and the silent invitation makes you feel hot under the collar.

When you're standing between them, you feel his knees bump your legs on either side, his hands planted firmly into the couch cushions. You notice the grip he has on them, "Are you sure?" You pause.

Peter tilts his head in that strange, spider-like way. As if he cannot fathom why would you ask such a thing, "Of course. I'm the one who offered."

Your hands shake as they consider where to put themselves, and you get about halfway to his shoulders before he takes them and places them on either side of his face, mumbling something about how it might help you feel more in control, quell your nerves a bit.

Peter's cheeks feel so warm in your hands, and you can feel each swallow he makes the longer you take in his expression. "Should... I move in first? Or..."

He laughs, short and high-pitched, "I guess I can go first."

You know you're supposed to close your eyes, but as he comes in close, you can't help but keep them lidded, taking in every twitch of his mouth as he inclines his neck, shuts his eyes, and kisses you.

Your brain reacts a half-second after his lips touch yours. You've probably stopped breathing, and you have to force your lips to unstiffen so that you could actually feel him. His lips are a little wet—he'd been rolling his bottom lip between his teeth since he'd sat down—and they taste faintly of raspberry. They're not cold though, and the feeling isn't unpleasant.

You don't know how to react to it, don't know if you should move or not, and so instead you curl your fingers into the silk of his nape and wait for the pounding in your chest to stop.

You feel him mouth at your bottom lip just once, and then pull back. "How'd that feel?"

You recall the sensations that went through your brain (all that it can recall anyway, when Peter's looking at you like that), "Slimy...?"

Peter's face falls, and then he bursts into laughter, shakes with the force of it, and drops his head on your shoulder. "There's got to be a better word than that."

"I don't know! I was just thinking about the feeling."

"I don't want to know what it felt like, I want to know how it made you feel. Did you like it? Hate it?"

"I don't know. I'm- I'm nervous."

"Hey, that's okay," his hand rubs your hip, warming the skin there, and you find yourself leaning into it for comfort, "everyone is their first time."

Peter is so, so gentle. Your heart feels like it might give out, but a little less now that it's over and he's not looking at you in disgust. You don't know what you expected, but... this was better. By far. That part of you that felt selfish takes over again, "Can we try again?"

His eyes widen a bit, but he's immediately nodding, "Okay. Yeah. Okay. We can try as- as many times as you want."

You nearly choke on your spit. "Can we?" Your voice comes out a meek whisper.

Peter nods. He brings his legs in so that he's sitting properly now. "Of course. You wanna move me? I can sit somewhere else. Or you can sit if you want."

"No, I like you here," you say, feeling your stomach tighten when his thighs lock against your legs, "um. Is there anything I can work on? How did I feel?"

"Warm. Soft. Just try to loosen up, alright?"

You force yourself to release the tension in your body and move in first this time. Images of rom-com kisses flood your brain, how you memorized their rhythms and the placement of their mouths. You try your best to mimic it, make it feel as good as it seemed to look, when you feel one of Peter's hands slip behind your head and angle you away just a hair, "You're tensing up," he warns, making you pause, "it doesn't have to be perfect. It's just you and me. Breathe for me, okay? Turn your brain off."

You feel your stomach flip a bit, and nod along mindlessly. You try again.

This time, it feels a little different. Not wet or stiff, even if it is still awkward. It almost overwhelms you when, as you're mouthing at Peter's lip, he returns the favor, but you keep your brain empty. You can't focus on the details because it won't feel right. You can't focus on the way it looks because it won't feel right.

So you focus on Peter. You focus on the hand on your hip drawing you closer and the hand on your neck rubbing circles into the knot there. You focus on the feeling of his suit under your pinkies. You focus on the small hum he makes when, with quite a bit of building up to it, you pass your tongue over his.

Almost as soon as you do it, you pull back. Peter is flushed and it makes the beauty marks on his skin stand out more. His eyelashes flutter, a half-smile on his lips that are kissed red. By you.

You open your mouth to ask but he beats you to it, "I think you've got it now... yeah. Definitely." You're so relieved you sigh, sagging away from him, but he catches your hands before they can can leave his face completely and holds them in his lap. You don't dare move them. "How about you? Did you like it?"

You nod, speechless.

Peter laughs and squeezes your hands in his, "Okay, good. Good. I love you, you know? I know it doesn't... replace what you're looking for, but you're wonderful. You're insane and funny and stunning and there's nothing wrong... you know? You're perfect. Take it from your loser best friend who had to get bit by a radioactive spider to get to first base."

You snort, "I mean, if that's all it takes..."

Peter shakes his head and stands, but his hand remains on your neck as you follow his eyes to his full height, "So, we good? No more ignoring me?" You bite your lip, nodding your head. Peter smiles. "Good, cause I'm starving and I need you to split a pizza with me."

"You just polished off a tub of ice cream and you're still hungry?"

"I'm a growing spider, honey. And I missed you." Without warning, the hand on your hip hooks around your back and hoists you into his body, throwing you off balance once more, "I'll swing us there and cover cheese sticks too. Sound good?"

You know you don't have much room to argue when he's being so generous. And not when he's beaming at you, so genuinely relieved to have you back that it would knock you off your feet if he wasn't holding you up.

He was right; this wouldn't replace what you were looking for, but it gets pretty damn close. Closer than you expected, actually. But it's just the adrenaline. This didn't change anything.

Did it? You stare up at Peter.

"We can try as many times as you want."

You might have a very different problem than you started with.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes

#peter parker x reader #peter parker scenarios #peter parker imagines #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman scenarios #spiderman imagines #spiderman fic #spiderman fluff #spiderman angst #andrew garfield #spider-man #marvel #mjwrites #tasm

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