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psithurista · 1 year

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approach shift pt. eight

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 4.6k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: Mentions of death, canon-typical violence, depiction of anxiety responses.

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

series masterlist

Saturday morning rises blue and cold, and you with it.

You sit blearily upright in bed for too long, wrapped in the covers against the chill as you flick through pictures from last night.

It’s all blurred teeth and disembodied limbs draped in pearl-beaded candy bracelets. There are a lot of people you don’t recognise, but Chris looks deliriously happy, which you figure is the main thing. You feel a fresh pang of guilt for making Bear miss it.

You get to the end of the new posts and start from the beginning again, your eyes glazing past ads for vitamin subscription services and monogrammed phone cases.

You’ll message him today, you tell yourself, yawning, shivering. You just need to work up to it. You don’t want to get the words wrong. Or the tone. Or the timing.

You drag yourself out of bed and shuffle around the apartment wrapped in your comforter, padded like a glass ornament against the world.

You make coffee for yourself and Bear, pouring hers into a vacuum flask to keep hot for when she wakes up. You clean out the grinder—properly, with the little brush it came with, not just shaking it out over the trash, then decide to rearrange the filters into a neat stack so they aren’t all crumpled in the corner.

You’re wiping inside the now-empty drawer when Bear’s door flies open. You catch a glimpse of her as she passes, pillow-creased and frazzled. “I’m so late,” she moans, stumbling into her shoes.

“We didn’t even go out last night; how do you always manage to do this?”

She shrugs, throwing her phone in her bag. “It’s a talent.” You hand her the vacuum flask, and she gasps. “You’re an angel. See you tonight.”

“See you,” you say, watching her go.

Now you’ve taken everything out of the drawers, you figure it’s probably worth doing the same for the rest of the cabinets. You can reorganise everything and actually get a system in place for all the utensils.

It’ll feel good; an easy accomplishment, one you can use to bolster your confidence and sense of capability while trying to decide what to say to Peter.

You put on some music and settle into the rhythm of the task, creating ordered stacks on every surface in the apartment. You unearth the embarrassing ‘STEMing hot stuff!’ mug you’d forgotten about; a joke birthday present from Bear last year.

The morning drips away into afternoon as you hum and sway your way around the apartment. The constant, easy activity keeps you feeling warm and purposeful; it feels so clear, so unconfusing and undemanding on your heart to lift, dust, stack, straighten. You pull all your clothes out of your closet and sort them, finding a jacket you’d forgotten you had and a pair of sneakers with holes in the sides you’d been meaning to throw away.

Once the apartment is vacuumed yet again, couch and all, you light a candle and sit down on the floor to sort the mess of papers and books under the coffee table you’d been meaning to get to. You’d been saving the candle—for what, you aren’t sure anymore—and now the scent of it fills the apartment; sweet and rich. Your stomach growls loudly and you pause, looking at your phone for the first time.

You blink. That can’t be the right time. But it is. Because then Bear’s keys are jingling in the door, and you realise it’s gotten cold again, and you can’t see out the windows anymore because they’ve become black rectangles mirroring the spotless apartment and your own startled face back at you.

“Holy shit,” she says. “It smells like Pine-Sol in here.”

You look up at her vaguely sheepishly as though she’s caught you doing something you shouldn’t be. “Yeah. I, um, did a little cleaning.”

“A little?” She side-eyes you. “This reminds me of that time you procrastinated for like two weeks contesting that bullshit score you got, when you were too nervous to ask about it.”

“I’m not procrastinating,” you say, affronted.

She stares at you.

“I’m not,” you say.

It’s not like you’ve been intentionally avoiding the message you need to send. You just needed to clear your head first. And the apartment really was overdue for a good clean.

“All our dish rags have been colour-coded,” she observes, her head inside a cupboard.

You keep busy for the rest of the night, taking the world’s longest shower, and then using every single skincare product you can find in the back of the bathroom drawers, including the sample sachets Bear had shoved back there.

Bathed and moisturised and dressed in your softest pajamas, you sit on the edge of your bed and glare at your phone.

Should you be casual about it? Apologetic? Blunt?

You’re overthinking it. Just keep it simple.

hey parker hope you’re doing okay. can i come by? i miss

hey peter. i was thinking and i just really want to apologise for losing my shit at you that night after may’s birthday. but i just think it’s kind of shitty how you

peter, i’m so, so sorry. why didn’t you tell me about

You groan and toss your phone into the pillows piled at the head of your bed. You’re tired. Too tired to think about any of this. You hadn’t realised until now how much the day had taken out of you, but now you’re feeling all that scrubbing in your forearms.

Tomorrow, you think, burrowing down into the warmth of your bed. Tomorrow. —————

Bear drags you out of the apartment the moment you wake up. First to walk laps around the greenmarket, then to what feels like every used bookstore in the city.

You trail her through stacks of shabby Penguins turned spine-out in varying shades of faded orange while she tells you about the girl she’s only just started messaging who may or may not be hinting for her to move in with her already, and try not to look too devastated at the prospect.

“It probably won’t happen though,” she says, frowning at the back of a hardcover Magritte print book. “It’s just something she’s been dropping into conversation and, like, I can’t tell if it’s still a joke or not. Hey, we should go get a matcha.”

By the time you make it home that afternoon, you’re full and happy and barely miserable at all. You curl lazily into the couch while Bear starts on a stir-fry, scrolling through your phone. You’d set up a news alert months ago for Oscorp, back when the dream of working there was still just that, and now you skim through the day’s notifications.

There’s a quarterly financial profile, and a glowing article about one of the company’s recent charitable endeavours; providing water filtration systems to flood-ravaged parts of Papua New Guinea.

You only read the first few lines of it, wondering a little grimly how much PR paid for it to be published. You should probably delete the alert; you’re sick of thinking about work on the weekends. But then, just as you’re about to scroll away, something catches your eye.

'SIX YEARS ON: Has anything changed? Advocates for workplace reform have raised concerns Oscorp hasn’t done enough to meet its court-mandated commitment to transform management of company operations following the release of details from its most recent external review. The damning report comes only weeks after the anniversary of the death of Oscorp intern Gwen Stacy, who has been remembered by a company spokesperson as a “brilliant scientific mind sadly taken far too soon.”

The incident garnered a storm of public interest after allegations Oscorp had attempted to conceal details surrounding then-chairman Harry Osborn’s involvement in the events leading up to Stacy’s death. Unnamed Oscorp sources claimed Osborn was working under the influence of an unreleased drug which had not yet been approved for trials.

While the coroner’s report ruled the death as accidental, Stacy’s family have previously spoken to news outlets asserting the view that Oscorp’s failure to control access to untested pharmaceutical samples led to the tragic event. They did not respond to requests for comment.'

There’s a picture of a girl underneath the article; blonde and freckled and grinning toothily from behind a beakerful of clear liquid. She has the hugest, greenest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You read it three times before you put your phone down and stare at your feet for a few seconds, listening to the sound of your heart pushing blood around inside your head. Then, you pick your phone back up, open a new browser window, and start typing. —————

It’s colder inside than it was outside.

You unclasp your hands from between your knees, shivery and restless, and lean back from the desk to hug yourself, wrapping your arms tight around your body.

Gary’s cheeks are even redder than usual, bright with windburn; redder than his hair and the raw-looking skin around his eyes. He has a half-eaten almond croissant in his hand and there are crumbs all over the front of his coat.

Your leg bounces under your desk while he absently unwinds his scarf from around his neck, first in one direction, then, realising he’s just winding it tighter, in the other direction. He sets his satchel down and unclips it, ponderously slow.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen anybody in less of a rush in your entire life.

When he finally sits, you only manage to wait a few more seconds before you’re wheeling yourself in his direction.

“Hi Gary.”

He swivels his chair to face you, his face completely devoid of emotion. “Hello,” he says.

You scoot your chair a little closer. “Did you have a nice weekend?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. That’s good.” You look at each other for a minute. “I like your plant. Is that one of the ones they were giving out from the Wellness Lounge?”

“It’s fake.”

“Well,” you say slowly, “at least they’re trying to branch out.” You continue looking at each other.

He nods solemnly. “That’s funny.”

You give up. “I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of questions. About Oscorp. You’ve been here a long time, right?”

“I guess. Would you consider seventeen years a long time?” He doesn’t ask it with any apparent sarcasm. You don’t answer, just in case it’s rhetorical.

“I wondered if you know much about what happened with Harry Osborn.”

He looks at you with what might pass for mild suspicion. “It’s classified. You’re not going to put this on the internet, are you?“

You shake your head, giving him a little smile. “Just curious. I happened to get here kinda early this morning and stumbled across a few files while I was working. There are entire pages redacted and it just seemed really weird, so I just wondered what it was all about.”

He shoots a quick glance behind you, then lowers his voice. “Yeah, they really didn’t want any of it getting out. He was messing around with unapproved samples, even testing them on himself. And it did something to him, he went completely nuts. Took one of the interns hostage, then he killed her.”

Your heart rattles jagged and loose in your chest. “Gwen Stacy.”

He nods. There’s powdered sugar in his moustache. “Yep. They ruled it an accident, and that was the official story, but all of us who were working here then heard whispers trickle down about what really happened.”

“But why?”

“Who knows? Like I said, he went completely crazy. I doubt he even knew what he was doing. The facility he’s in? It’s not really a hospital. Or, it’s a maximum security hospital, if you get my drift. That’s why we don’t have the intern program anymore. Only graduate positions. You’re the replacement.”

It feels a little bit like how you imagine swallowing drain cleaner must feel. “The replacement,” you echo weakly. “That’s me.”

He seems to realise then how much he’s said, and he snaps his mouth closed. A beat passes, then he squints. “They made you sign an NDA when you started, right?”

You force a little smile. “Sure did.”

He still doesn’t look completely convinced, but then, it’s hard to tell when his face is about as animated as the plastic succulent on his desk. “Well. Good. I better get to work.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

You awkwardly scoot yourself back to your desk and stare at your reflection in the black monitor for a while. So May had left out a pretty important detail. Losing Harry and Gwen simultaneously hadn’t just been a case of unfortunate timing.

Gary’s confirmed everything you read, but it’s only made you more frustrated. There’s still something huge and obvious missing here that you can’t find in any of the files or reports or news articles, and it’s the thing you’re most confused about, more than whatever Harry Osborn was doing, performing reckless testing on himself.

Namely: what in the fuck was Peter doing there when it happened?

You’re still facing off with yourself when Doctor Brant walks in and you nearly knock all the shit off your desk in your scramble to look busy.

The day can’t pass fast enough.

Nothing seems to go right. The bottle slips out of your hand while you’re trying to refill the autoclave and you end up pouring distilled water all over your shoes. You forget your swipe card when you go downstairs to pick up a box of equipment and have to call security to let you back into your office.

And to top it all off, you’re still having issues with your starting cultures. You’re standing at the bench in the lab, frowning at yet another failed batch, when there’s a strange wheezing hiss from the vents overhead.

You look up.

Of course it’d just be the cherry on top if the air gave out and you ended up passing out from preservative fumes.

You’re the only one in here at the moment; everyone else is back in the main office, so you carefully replace the lid on your samples and head for the airflow controls.

Which is when the lab plunges into complete darkness.

“Oh, great,” you breathe. You stretch your arms out in front of yourself, groping for walls. “Hello?” you call. “Is anyone else here?”

There’s no answer. You spin around and bump into the cold steel edge of a workbench. Fear trickles into your stomach as you realise you don’t know which way to go. Something smells off, like melting plastic.

The ground rumbles under your feet, and emergency lights flick on in little strips along the floor. Some of the panic leaves your body, and you make it to the doors, slapping your palm hard over the manual release so you can get out.

Everyone in the darkened office is standing around confused and talking loudly at once. A few people have the flashlights on their cells turned on, and you hold your hands out to block the light from your eyes, sidling toward the walls to get away as they all turn to blind you at once.

Doctor Brant‘s face looms out from the shadows of his office doorway looking tense. You make a beeline for him. “What’s going on?” you say, awkwardly falling into step beside him. “Power outage?”

He barely glances at you, striding forward. “So it seems. But the backup should have come on by now.”

You realise then where he’s headed and your mouth drops open. “Oh fuck. The freezers.”

A wry look barely breaks through the worry on his face. “Oh fuck, indeed.”

Some of the samples in those freezers are originals, more than twenty years old. If they warm past a certain temperature…

That’s years of work, gone.

The plastic smell has grown stronger, and there’s the distant sound of an alarm ringing, long and unbroken. A couple of people exchange tense looks as you trail Doctor Brant past them. “Should we be getting out of here?” someone says.

“It’s probably another drill,” someone replies, sounding unconvinced.

“Yeah, but. With the power cut?”

Doctor Brant pauses to look back around the office, his hand on the glass doors leading toward the freezers. “Everybody, please make your way outside. Meet at the assembly point. I’ll be down behind you.”

There’s some half-hearted grumbling about this; it’s a long way down using the evacuation stairs instead of the elevators, but then a low, distant rumble sounds from somewhere underfoot and everybody shuts up. There’s a brief bottleneck at the door as everyone tries to squeeze through it at once.

Your desk is on the other side of the office. You can practically hear the voice of your elementary school teacher in your head: stay calm, forget about your personal belongings, keep up with the group.

But your phone is sitting right in the centre of your desk. It’ll only take you an extra second to grab it.

You shuffle forward gingerly, just to make sure you aren’t about to blind yourself walking into the edge of a shelf in the gloom. Without the extra light from everyone’s phones, it’s even darker than before. Dust motes fall shivering off the lifeless light fixtures overhead as the building vibrates again, harder this time.

You slide your phone off the desk and flip it over so you can stick it into your back pocket, barely glancing at the notification on the screen. Then, the words belatedly registering, you stop. You don’t mean to. You need to get to the stairwell. But you can’t force your body to move.

1 Unread Message from: p.p.

Read it later, you think furiously at yourself. Later, later, later.

But your feet are still rooted to the floor. You need to see what he’s sent. You’ll be quick. Just a glance.

You stand stupid with panic and indecision, neither opening the message nor unrooting your feet. You’re frozen for what feels like a long time, but must only be a couple of seconds.

And then the decision is made for you.

The wall closest to the foyer rushes outward in a tsunami of smoke and insulation, and you hit the edge of your desk hard.

Everything goes black for a couple of seconds. Your eyes are squeezed shut against the grit of dust, and your ears hurt; ringing with burst-out silence. There’s the taste of blood in your mouth from where your teeth snapped shut against the inside of your lip and it feels like you hit your head somewhere on the way down.

When you manage to blink your eyes open again, you’re slumped half-under the desk. Probably a good thing, your shocked brain manages to think; it probably sheltered you from the ceiling panels crashing down. You scramble onto your knees, trying to ignore how unsteady you feel, and peer out.

You can’t see beyond the next row of desks. The smoke is too thick; and it’s too dark to make out much more than the twist of wires hanging from the ceiling where the lights have fallen loose.

“Shit,” you gasp. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.”

You lean back against the desk and try to think. The smoke is coming from the direction of the stairs to the main foyer, which means you can’t get out that way anymore. If the stairs are even still there.

Is there another way down from this level? Surely there must be. You probe your fingers delicately at the back of your head and wince. You have no idea what happened to your phone, so you’ve got no flashlight.

The lab, you think. There’s another emergency exit through to the other side of the lab. The stairs are behind a firewall.

You manage to get your feet underneath your body and shakily stand. It’s quickly becoming unbearably hot in here without the air working. You tuck your mouth and nose into the crook of your elbow as you pick your way forward. Your hearing is starting to come back a little; just a dull roaring sound and that alarm in the distance, still blaring.

You make it all the way to the lab door before it hits you. Doctor Brant.

You wheel around, squinting through the smoke. Fuck. Could he have made it out with the others? Maybe he’s already gone downstairs and is safe, waiting outside somewhere. You only need to think about it for a second before you know you can’t possibly leave without making sure.

You lurch toward the first of the control doors. “Doctor Brant?” The air burns your throat on the way in, and you cough so hard it feels more like a heave.

The heat is worse over here. You touch your hand to the release and hiss, pulling it back. The metal feels like touching the element on a stovetop.

Maybe you can wrap something around your skin to protect it. You hear what sounds like your name, yelled hoarse, and pause. You can’t tell which direction it came from. “I’m here! Oh, God. Doctor Brant? I’m right here. I’m gonna try to find another way to get you out. Hang on.”

You turn to search for something; a discarded jacket, or scarf from the back of somebody’s chair, and there’s a flicker of movement at the other side of the office. The sight unleashes a fresh screech of alarm in your brain. You duck behind one of the still-standing desks and peer out just in time to catch a shock of bright red swimming out from the haze.

You lean around the side, blinking, trying to make it out. The shape turns, and you see it right as it comes toward you: the panels of blue disturbing the red, the printed black over the chest; the long, sharp legs jointed out from the body. Him. Again.

Your stomach drops out. You seize the pen cup from the top of the desk and throw it as hard as you can, stopping him in his tracks.

“You stay the fuck away from me,” you warn, pointing, stumbling backwards.

“Jesus, stop, fuck—” he splutters, hands outstretched, ducking to dodge as you launch a wireless keyboard at him. You dash behind a pillar and run bent-over toward the maintenance hallway. You don’t know if he saw you, or if he’s following.

You know you should probably stop and consider why you’re actually running away from him when he’s probably only trying to help you. But your heart is going too fast for intelligent thought right now. Like a rabbit, without reason or rationale, fuelled by terror and adrenaline.

You hit a dead end and stop. Can you get to the other exit from here? What about Doctor Brant? Your eyes are burning and you scrub the back of your arm across them to try to clear the smoke. You turn to go back the way you came. But he’s there. And he’s already coming toward you. You let out a strange, retching sob-sound. “No. No, no, please, no, get away.”

He steps forward, angular grey eyes looming up out of the smoke and you wheel away. “Hey, stop, don’t go that way—”

Your lungs are on fire, and your eyes are streaming so badly you can’t tell which way to turn to run. He closes the distance between your bodies and then his hands are on your shoulders.

“Listen. Hey, hey, stop, we don’t have time for this, listen, listen to me.” You’re panicking, blind and overwhelmed and terrified, your heart clawing its way up your throat, trying to shove his hands away.

There’s something wrong with all of this. His voice doesn’t sound like you remember—but it does sound the way you know it’s supposed to, and that makes no sense, and your brain is screaming the explanation at you like a cageful of trapped birds screeching and beating against the inside of your skull, but you’re fighting it too hard to listen.

The floor has started vibrating under your feet again, and everything rumbles and groans; a loud pop of breaking glass audible far too close for comfort, but you don’t stop shoving at him as hard as you can, still twisting, trying to get away.

Then one of his hands is around your waist, pulling you flush against him so you can’t twist away, and another is on your face, pushing back your hair. His voice is back, loud and firm and right in your ear, cutting through the rush of noise, and it’s wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Listen to me. Jersey.”

It falls absolutely silent inside your head. You can still feel the smoke in your eyes, in your mouth, but you’re no longer coughing.

You’re no longer breathing.

He’s still talking, the shape of his lips moving alien through the thin red stretch of his mask. “Just breathe. I’m gonna get you outta here. But you gotta tell me if there’s anyone else in the lab who needs help. Hey. Hey, hey, breathe.”

Your mouth moves on its own. “Doctor Brant. He was in the sample freezer. He was…he…”

“Breathe,” he says again, quiet, and you do. The hands that had been shoving at his chest now press shakily to the shape of his body underneath, and, dazedly, you trace the outline of his collarbones. Your throat burns.

“You. You idiot,” you gasp hoarsely, new tears springing to your eyes. “Peter, you—you, you fucking, you idiot—”

“Yeah, trust me, I know,” he says, wrapping his other arm around your waist, and then the ground disappears from beneath your feet.

You sag your weight against him as he pulls you forward through the smoke. Something shears bright against your face and you tuck down into his chest, both of his arms keeping you tucked away from a sudden blaze of light and heat. There’s a crash from behind you, then another in front, and suddenly beautiful, clean, cold air is rushing at your skin, pulling your hair free.

Broken glass crunches under your feet as they finally meet the ground. The arm around your waist releases you, and he’s gone.

You blink in the bright sun. You’re outside. Then all the noise rushes back in, and there are new arms around you.

“Hey! We got another one, get her out of here…”

“Are you okay?” someone is saying, their safety hat-shadowed face close to yours.

“Careful of the bleeding. Here, take her,” comes another voice. You can barely hear them under the wail of sirens.

“She’s in shock,” the first person says, and there’s a hand on your arm, pulling you forward, toward the ambulances and fire engines lined up across the street. You look back over your shoulder. They’ve cordoned off the entire block. There’s ash in your mouth, and you nearly stumble.

The person holding you pauses, turning back toward you. “What? Did you say something?” They’re half-shouting to be heard. They’re just a blur, like a stranger in a dream.

You stare at them. It feels like your face is doing something incredibly interesting. Did you say something? The ash is gritty like sand against your teeth, on your tongue.

“I need to get back inside,” you hear yourself saying now, quiet and clear, your voice disconnected from your mouth. You need to get back into the building. You need to.

“What?”

Then you’re shoving at the hand on your arm, twisting out of their grip. Someone shouts out with alarm behind you, and you’re running, clumsily, tripping over rubble as you throw yourself back toward the police barricade blocking the entrance to the building.

“Stop! You can’t go in there!”

You don’t care. You’re not leaving him.

Which is when there’s a shriek of metal overhead. You and everybody else on the street look up just in time to watch every remaining window on the top half of the building explode outward in shards of skin-melting heat.

#peter parker x f!reader #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x f!reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm fanfiction #tasm fanfic #the amazing spider-man fanfiction #the amazing spider-man fanfic #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter fanfic #tasm!peter x you #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker imagine

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evermoresversion · 10 months

Note

Peter Parker!andrews getting in a fight with his girlfriend for being reckless because she’s powerful

♡⃕ ﹙scarlet witch, peter parker.﹚

A/N I decided that y/n would have the same powers as scarlet witch, plus I added a little more stuff for the story. I hope you enjoy it, thank u for the request. <3

PAIRING TASM!Peter Parker x Scarlet Witch!Reader

TW/TAGS Violence, mentions of death, angst.

SUMMARY You've always had the powers you have now, but over time they grew stronger, taking over you. And one night, having lost your parents, you decided to revive them, letting Scarlet Witch take over you to continue with her plan.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN | PETER'S MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

If someone had ever told Peter that he would have to fight the woman he loves more than himself, he would have laughed, a lot.

But here he was, totally devastated by the fight he had just had with y/n, no, she wasn't the y/n he loved anymore, she was Scarlet Witch, she was consumed by the powers she had, she was almost unbeatable.

"What? Don't you love me now?" You laughed in a way he had never heard you do. It was evil in shape, heartless. The city was in chaos because of you, along with a lot of people dying to get what you wanted.

"y/n, you're not like this, you must..." you cut him off.

"I'm not y/n anymore, she died." you looked at him with fury in your eyes. "And if you want to stay alive, I recommend that you get out of my way."

"Sorry, but no, and if I have to fight you to stop you I will."

"Fine, if you insist." you answered simply, light began to be produced in your hands and with his sixth sense he was able to predict where you were going to hit him. "Oh come on! It's no fun if you dodge all my punches." you pouted and reached out your hand so you could lift him up too, you pulled him towards you in the air and it was impossible for him to move due to the force field that your telekinesis had.

"y/n you have to stop, this is not you." he mumbled slightly due to the strength you held in his body as he tried to wriggle out of it.

"I'm not going to stop, I just want my parents back, no one better than you should understand that." you looked at him and he could see betrayal, anger and sadness reflected in your eyes. "You should have helped me when I asked you to, when I was reasonable." your jaw tensed as you watched Peter carefully. "Let me do this and I'll stop."

"No." He responded after a few seconds, and for a moment the façade of feigned sadness that you had had disappeared, turning into anger once more.

"Well, you made me." With a movement of your hand you threw him away from there, with another movement you covered his torso with metal sheets so that he could not move.

Thanks to the strength that he also had, he managed to get rid of the metals that covered most of his body.

"Give it up, Peter." You muttered in his mind. Another of your powers is mental manipulation.

"No, I'm not going to let you take her." He responded back by walking out of the building you'd thrown him into to start swinging back to where you'd gone.

"She and I are one, Parker, if you kill me she dies." you laughed maliciously and he stopped hearing your voice in his mind.

He knew that you were going to go to some kind of magical pit that you had found from an ancient legend where previously kings and queens had used it to revive and live much longer.

When he arrived, you were ready to start with that ritual that you were planning to do.

He tried to send one of his cobwebs towards your hands but you could sense it before, undoing them with your powers.

"You are too predictable, Spider-Man." you said the name with contempt.

"You have to stop, you don't know what kind of consequences that can bring." He pointed to the pit with his hand, as he slowly approached you.

When he saw that you didn't move, he took the opportunity to get closer and take you in his arms, but you immediately turned to dust between his fingers.

"Wha-?" And suddenly the whole scene changed, he wasn't wearing his Spider-Man suit and he wasn't in the pit anymore, he thought you had teleported him or something similar but when he turned around and looked at you behind him, but without that scarlet red suit, if not you in your usual way got even more confused.

"Hi sweetheart." You smiled looking at him sweetly, he frowned as he looked at you.

"What are we doing here?" he asked looking around him, both were on your apartment.

"Listen, you have to let her do what she plans to do, you can't stop her." You denied looking at him with anguish.

"We don't know what kind of side effects it can bring, y/n."

"Listen to me, will you, love?" You were getting closer to him little by little. He wasn't entirely confident that it was you, but he still gave you the benefit of the doubt. "No one will be able to stop her, believe me when I tell you." You nodded looking directly into his eyes.

"But..."

"Shh, nobody." you finally denied taking him by the cheeks, he looked at you without understanding anything.

Your biggest mistake was standing in front of a mirror. Because if you had already convinced him, seeing that Scarlet Witch was in the reflection holding him by the cheeks and not you, he finally reacted.

"I'm so sorry." He murmured looking at you, you frowned without understanding what he was saying.

With one of his webs he took a knife. It took all of his willpower to do it but he finally rammed it into your chest, stabbing into you.

"I'm sorry." he repeated like a prayer as the scenery around them fell apart, returning you to the pit.

Seeing that he was still standing, he looked everywhere, trying to find you as Scarlet Witch, but when he looked at the ground and saw your normal form, he felt too strong a pressure on his chest.

"No no no no." He denied several times, taking off his mask and kneeling next to you. "Please no." he sobbed looking at your dead form in his arms.

He really didn't believe what Scarlet had said, if she died you too.

"I'm so sorry."

#peter parker #peter parker fanfic #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #the amazing spider-man #the amazing spider-man fanfic #tasm #tasm fanfic #val's version #evermoresversion

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sincericida · 2 months

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Do you have any favorite Peter smut fics to recommend? I'm in need something spicy! I'll take anything you can think of!

Dear, if you want to turn up your temperature with some of the smut fics I’ve read recently, here are a few:

So, So Mean, by @lovelettersforthedamned

Smitten, Peter's Angel, The Ruler and The Killer, Peter and a Cam Girl, Enraptured, Doing so Well, Not so Innocent, The Goddess, In The Dark, Cheating With Peter, Phone Sex, and my favorite ever Back to Basics, by @blooming-violets

Love on the Brain: Sugar & Vice, vol 2, Sugar and Vice, Sweet Dreams, These Violet Delights, by @liz-allyn

Bondage, Mattress Acting, by @reysdriver

August Slipped Away by @peterthepark

Symbiote mini series by @mrshipsmcgee

Florence series by @periprose

Dulcet by @jamespottersdaisy

Quiet Temptations by @parkerpeter24

Sparks Fly by @mortwig

Jawbreaker by @witchywcmans

The Angel In The Garden of Evil series, In Your Boss’s Office, Professor Peter Parker by @backtothefanfiction

'Til Kingdom Come by @pedrito-friskito

Masterlist of @withahappyrefrain

This fic of @deviouz

Going to The Edge of Heaven by @multifandomworldsposts

Another Love series by @abibliophobiaa

Too Close For Comfort by @lovelettersforthedamned

Thick and Thin by @ficthots

Daddy Issues seeries by @venus616

I’m Holding my Breath for You by @lxinesux

There must be others I’ve read, but I’ve read so much fanfic… You must find more things in this tag [peter parker fanfic] that I usually put in the fics I reblogged.

Thank you to all the writers on Tumblr!

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asterias-record-shop · 11 months

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♫ 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡… TASM!Peter Parker with the bingo prompt ‘himbo’?

alright, so the thing is I feel like peter is really book smart but he is so oblivious otherwise, like if someone flirts with him it goes completely over his head. so reader has been his best friend for years and recently has been trying to drop hints that she likes him, and eventually she gets fed up of him being so oblivious that she just kisses him and he gets all whiney and then they do the devils tango (i am so sorry i’m really awkward when requesting 😭) but could there also be a size and praise kink, as well as an oral fixation? (if you don’t feel comfy pls delete this!!)

i hope u have a good day/night 💕

—𓆩[my beautiful idiot]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

nvm anon honey i couldn't sleep without posting this, i hope you enjoy it!!!

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - TASM! Peter Parker x Best Friend! Fem! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 4.7K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - You and Peter have been best friends for what seemed like eternity, and has been in love with you for what seemed like forever, but he’s not going to give up — no matter how much it seems like you don’t like him back. The kid you babysit though that is way too old to be babysat disagrees though, and tries to show him how much you were in love with him too.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - crossover time|| heavily inspired by this interview/edit with Will Poulter (love him so much) || cursing & foul language || mentions of violence || Peter gets hurt || whiny Peter is best Peter || smut warnings include oral, fingering, multiple orgasms, riding, praise, size kink, breeding kink, oral fixation, possessiveness, marking kink, biting, hickies, possibly more?

Miles was a helpless bystander between the two of you. It never worked out, not whenever Peter was too stupidly in love with you he never saw the hints that you dropped.

“Peter, I’m telling you, she’s in love with you!” Miles wanted to strangle the other Spider-Man, very very violently.

“I don’t… I don’t think she is,” Peter mumbles, a pout on his lips as he swirled pasta around his fork, one that you often made because it was his favorite. Was that not hint enough? You knew his favorite fucking pasta! “I don’t think I’m her type.”

“Who’s type?” You walked into the living room, plate in hand full of the cream based pasta you made on the side.

“Yours! Your type!” Miles grins. “Your type.”

“My type?” You hummed, thinking as you tap your chin. “My type… would be smart. Handsome, funny. Nerdy,” you look over at Peter who was still pouting. “Loves pasta.”

Miles slurps up some of the noodles, nodding. “I wonder who that could be!”

“Yeah, I wonder,” Peter mumbles, face falling as he scooped pasta into his mouth. “I wonder.”

“Really? In this room?!” Miles yells, moving his hands to gesture around the apartment. “I wonder?!”

Peter looked around, eyes narrowing. “You like Miles?”

How the fuck could he be so stupid?

“That’s it! I’m done!” Miles stood, looking at you. “He’s hopeless! Completely and utterly hopeless!”

You sigh, standing up too. “I could’ve told you that.”

You go around the couch, taking Peter’s finished plate of food as his face scrunches. “Who’s hopeless?”

“Oh baby,” you leaned down, pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek. He didn’t think much of it, you did kiss him on the cheek often. “You are. You’re such a himbo.”

“A what? What’s a himbo?”

“It’s like… a beautiful idiot,” you press another kiss to his cheek, pulling back his chestnut hair from his face. “You’re my beautiful idiot.”

He pours as you walk away, Miles shouting out a goodbye as you finish your food and start cleaning up the dishes.

He didn’t want to be your ��beautiful idiot’ — he wanted to be yours, overall and absolutely, he wanted to tick every box you ever wanted, he wanted to be yours. If he could, he’d want you to mark him as yours for forever and eternity, he just wanted you. He wanted a mark on him that said you owned him, just like you owned his heart for what seemed like forever.

“Peter? Don’t you have to go on patrol?” You yell out, snapping Peter out of his thoughts.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m going!” He goes into your room because he basically lived with you at this point, grabbing his suit and getting dressed with the door open.

“Peter?” You’re standing at the doorway, arms crossed as he stumbled into his suit, trying his best not to fall on his face. “Miles’ parents invited us over for dinner. I told them yes, you promise not to be late?”

“Yeah, I promise,” he grunted breathlessly as he quickly finished putting on his suit, looking around. “Where’s my mask?”

“Peter,” you say again, more stern this time as you walk over, bending down to pick up something from the ground. He froze when you stood in front of him, fixing his suit before handing him the mask. “Promise me you won’t be late.”

He smiled down at you, wide and his honey brown eyes shining. “I promise. Do I dress nice or casual?”

“Nicer than casual,” you say with a sigh, your hands rubbing against his chest to flatten out the suit, thinking about the fact he wore nothing underneath it. “I’m going to go over there early to help Rio cook, but I need you there by seven. Did you hear that? By seven. Dinner starts at seven-thirty, but I need you there by seven.”

He smiled, leaning down teasingly. “Yes ma’am. Whatever you say, I’ll be there by seven.”

You sigh, a smile on your face as you pat his chest. “Be safe, and take care of Miles if he tags along, okay?”

“I will.”

You both stay there for a few seconds, his eyes staring at your lips as you worriedly push your hands through his hair. You did it often, so much so that it became something you didn’t have to think about doing, or it was something you did when you were nervous.

What you both did were couple things, why weren’t you together? It was because Peter was too much of a beautiful idiot to know otherwise.

“Promise me you’ll be safe, and protect Miles if he goes. Don’t eat on your patrol, Rio is making the best food ever. And you have to be there by seven.”

“I promise,” he pushed your hair back behind your ear, leaning down to press a firm kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you at seven.”

“By seven!” You yell as he jumps out the window, sighing with a smile. “I swear, if you weren’t hot I would’ve stopped trying by now.”

It was seven-ten. Seven-fucking-ten. You helped Rio make arroz con gandules while she took care of the main course - chicken con sofrito - and she had also tasked you in making a grilled salsa. You were smashing it inside of the molcajete, the grinding and the scratching making Miles and his father wince.

“Y/N, honey do you want me to uhm… take over… that?” Jefferson asks as he comes closer to you.

“Nope,” you say as Rio dipped her fingers into the salsa and coughing. “Oh no, is it bad?”

“N-No,” she cleared her throat, coughing. “Just spicy, very spicy. Are you mad, honey?”

“You have no fucking clue,” you basically growled as Miles and Jefferson slowly stepped back.

“You have any clue where this kid is?” Jefferson whispers to Miles, looking over. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to eat that salsa.”

“I-I’ll find him,” Miles says, nodding. “Just… distract them.”

First, he checked your apartment. He looked around, searching for anything that would show Peter was home, and when he found nothing — it was to the streets he went. He changed quickly, already swinging out the window to find the beautiful idiot. It didn’t take him long, quickly going to their favorite spot and finding him lounging, snoring extremely loudly.

“Peter! Peter, what the hell are you doing?!” Miles slapped Peter through the mask, gasping when he saw the gashes and lacerations all over his body. “Holy shit, Peter!”

He snapped up, gasping as he looked around. “What time is it?”

“Like seven-thirty already dude!” He quickly looks around. “What happened?!”

“I was helping a bank robbery, got dammit, Y/N is going to kill me!” He tries to stand, groaning loudly as he holds his side.

“Stop moving! Stop! Y/N taught me how to stitch people up, just lay down!” Miles ordered the older Spider-Man, forcing him to lay back as he grabbed the medical supplies.

“There’s no point, they’ll heal soon enough, I need to get home. Y/N is going to kill me!” He quickly stood, the gashes already getting smaller and less deep. “Let’s go!”

Miles groans. “Am I the babysitter or you?!”

He swung after him, Peter quickly swinging into your room and looking through the dresser that held his clothes. “Oh, come on! Y/N moved my clothes around.”

“Y/N does your laundry?” Miles asks, groaning. “Do you not how in love with you she is?!”

“We switch on laundry duty! It was her weekend so I cooked,” he grabbed a button down, groaning. “Thank fuck she washed my favorite.”

He grabs some new underwear from the drawer, smiles face palming as he rushes to the restroom to get changed. “You're going to bleed through that!”

“No I’m not!” He yelled back, walking out in his new clothes. “I covered the stuff with gauzes.”

“Okay, go upstairs, I’m going to swing up to my room and change, alright?”

He nodded. “Right.”

They both went to Miles’ apartment in different ways, Peter knocking on the door and when it swung open, he smiled at you. You gasped when you saw his gashed face, quickly reaching up. “What happened?!”

“Bank robbery, I passed out on top of a building. So sorry I’m late.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, his hands settling on your waist. “Dinner going well?”

“I-I made a salsa, are you okay?” Your hands quickly cup his face, twisting and turning as you sigh. “Rio’s going to freak! God fuck, Peter!”

He laughed. “You have no reason to worry, honey. I’ll just say I… ran into a tree.”

“A tree?!”

“Look at that! Peter’s here!” Miles yelled, running forward. “Let’s eat!”

When everyone sat down at the dinner table, it was obvious something was a little off. “I uhm… how is work, Y/N?”

You clear your throat, nodding at Rio’s question. “It’s going really well! I’m really happy there.”

“Peter, you moved in with Y/N already?” Jefferson asked, scooping food into his mouth. “It’s about time.”

“What do you mean?” Peter paused his actions of stuffing his face, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“Well… you both are dating, right?” Rio asked, looking over at Miles. “Mijo always told us you were…”

“No, we’re not,” you say, a sad smile on your face. “But Peter does basically live with me! He does my laundry, cooks, you know, normal stuff.”

“Normal… couple stuff,” Rio filled in. “You pay rent too?”

“I-I tried, but Y/N didn’t let me,” Peter says softly, shrugging. “She said that she didn’t need my help with it.”

It goes quiet for a minute before Miles laughs awkwardly. “Hey, guys! I passed my biology test!”

You smiled when Miles saved you both from the awkward moment, cheering as everyone continued to talk about how they knew Miles was going to pass. Peter wasn’t that into the conversation, he was extremely preoccupied.

You both did do a lot of couple stuff.

For fucks sake, you both even slept with each other. Why weren’t you both dating, why?

When dinner was done and a few drinks were put in after Rio forced Miles to go to bed, you both went back up to your shared apartment. You giggled as you opened the door, smiling back at him. “Do you want to watch a movie or go straight to sleep, what do you want to do?”

“Can I talk to you, Y/N?” He slowly takes your hand, pulling you toward your room.

You giggled, shrugging. “Well, straight to sleep it is then.”

He sat on the bed, parting his legs and pulling you between them making you giggle. “Everything okay?” You whisper, pushing his hair back as you leaned down to press your forehead to his. “I know something’s not. What’s up?”

“Why did you say we’re not dating?” He pouts up at you, a giggle falling from your lips. “Hey, it’s not funny! We… we do things that couples do, why aren’t we a couple? I know… I know you might not-”

“For fucks sake Peter, shut up.”

He gasped as you pulled his face up, your lips pressing to his as your nails softly press into his skin, soft but firm all at once. He groaned loudly, his hands pulling you closer before you pulled away, a whine falling from his lips. “What’re you doing?”

His words were almost slurred together even though the alcohol he drank had little to no effect on him. It makes you laugh as he leaned up, pressing more kisses to your lips before he pulled your body solidly against his own, fixing your position so that you sat on his lap and your hands were around his neck. “What baby, you don’t want me to stop kissing you?”

He hummed, shaking his head. “No, you can’t… ‘s unfair.”

You started to laugh even harder as he basically whined, trying to pull you down for more kisses. You hummed as he started to lay back, hands pushing through his hair. “I need you… I need you, Y/N.”

You rose a brow, rolling your hips into his. “Need? Need’s a big word, baby,” you respond, smiling down at him as he groaned into your neck. He shifts you both so that you were laying on your back, leaning down to keep kissing your lips.

He was addicted, now that he had one taste, he never wanted to stop. His tongue pushed into your mouth, desperately swirling his own around yours as you groaned into his mouth, the minute he pulled away was when you swallowed the mixed saliva gathered at the back of your throat. You hummed as he leaned down, his lips pressing to your for a quick kiss, going over and over again with small breaks in between.

“Peter,” you giggled, his mere hum the only proof he was listening. “Are you just going to kiss me or are you going to get a little adventurous?”

He pauses, tilting his head. “Adventurous?”

You laughed. “Fuck, my beautiful idiot,” you pulled him down for another kiss, your teeth grazing his deliciously making him groan before you pulled away. “You can put that mouth to better use somewhere else.”

He paused, his mind taking a minute to process. “Oh. Oh, yeah!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he quickly pressed one last kiss to your lips before letting his lips slowly, slowly trail down your body while slipping off your clothes, his nimble fingers leaving a trail of fire on your now bare body. He paused as he stared down at you, his eyes dark and pupils blown as he inhaled.

“So fucking beautiful.”

His words make you groan, hands pushing your thighs apart as his head slowly pushes between them, his mouth already hot on your cunt. Your eyes rolled back, his tongue already exploring your wetness and his fingers pushing into your slit, smearing all of it up and down before settling it on your clit.

He wasted no time, groaning as your hands thread through his hair, holding onto his brown curls like the were handles and your thighs settling on his shoulders. He paused though, pulling away making you whine softly, head tilted again. “This is okay, right? I should’ve asked.”

Fuck, why was he so fucking adorable? “Yes honey, this is okay. More than okay.”

He smiled widely, biting his lip. “Good, because your cunt tastes even better than your mouth.”

You gasped as he pushed his face between your legs again, his lips latching on your clit as he pushed a finger inside of you. Your back arches, eyes widening before they roll back into your head, his finger pushing and pumping trying to find the right rhythm, teasing you. He gasps as you tug on his hair, pushing your hips up into his mouth as he groans against your clit, the vibrations making you shiver.

“F-Fuck, Peter.”

He hummed, enjoying the feeling of your cunt clamping down on his finger, curling it inside of you to feel your body writhe underneath his touch. His eyes roll back as a shiver runs down his back, groaning into your clit that he never let his mouth off of for too long, only shifting his head to get into a new angle. You tasted so fucking good, your swollen clit evidence of his torment, but there was something else. Something he couldn’t describe, he could feel you, all of you.

He could feel every clench of your walls, every shiver that ran up your back. He could hear every stutter of your breath, the skip of your heartbeat, every soft whimper you tried to hide as that one finger continues to find every pleasure spot that not even you knew existed. He could taste you with every lick, every suck of his mouth, his teeth even grazing your sensitive skin if he got too focused.

He finally pulls away from your clit, a thick string of saliva attaching your swollen bud of muscles to his lips, your hips bucking as he stares at your greedy cunt trying to suck his fingers back in every time he pulls out. He groans loudly as the shiver running down his back gets stronger, and the twisting of your stomach turns tight, your thighs shaking as your hips rut into his fingers until his mouth joins the actions of sucking on your entrance as another finger attempts to push into your pussy.

You gasped as your hips bucked without warning, your spongy walls enveloping both of his digits, and your mind blurring from how hard the orgasm hits you. Peter doesn’t even stop though, groans falling from his lips as he pulls out his fingers making you whine, your attempts to ride your hips into them failing. His tongue pushes into you though, a gasp leaving your lips as you automatically tighten your thighs around his head, not that he was complaining.

He could be like this for hours, his tongue pushing into you as his thumb rubbed circles into your overly-sensitive and swollen clit, hard but focused and his fingers pushed back into you. His tongue never stopped moving though, flicking and lapping, his mouth sucking and popping sensually against your pussy, groans that sent vibrations from your pussy straight to the growing knot in your stomach making you whine.

You had just cum, but it wasn’t like he had probably even cared about what it would do to your body, how sensitive it would make your body to every movement he made. His mouth sucked on the opening of your cunt, opening his mouth wide to push his tongue into you as your hips buck into his mouth. Your fingers tug on his hair, whimpering as he rolled your clit between his thumb and pointer with his other hand, his tongue thrusting into you as far as he could, an ache forming in his jaw as he tried to get his mouth anywhere and everywhere on your body.

He could feel the sparking along his spine again, your stomach clenching all over again as his fingers rubbed against that sensitive spot inside of you. His fingers twist, curling inside of you as he tries to push another finger into you, the stretch making you scream out as a shiver runs down his spine, a shaky groan leaving his lips as he swallows everything leaking out of your cunt.

He wanted more. He wanted to taste everything coming from your cunt, everything you had, just everything. He didn’t want to stop, his third digit pushing into you and the squelching filled his ears, his breathing heavy and panting into your cunt. His thumb continues its torment on your clit, rubbing and the shocks running through your body as your thighs shake and fingers shakily scratch against his scalp.

Your body was coated in sweat, stomach tight as his fingers edged you onto the climax of another orgasm, they always came quick after the first. Your body was sensitive all from him, your nipples hard and pebbled from the cold air of your room, bottom lip bitten raw from trying to hold back your moans before he squeezed at your clit - the only thing he needed to do to get you to start moaning out for him.

He loved the sounds you made, getting drunk off of your moans and whines combined with the taste of your arousal and your cunt making his dick hard and his senses overflow. He pushed his three fingers into you as deep as he could, all the way to his knuckles to watch your cunt convulse and feel those same sparks on his spine.

“Peter! Peter wait, Peter- fuck!”

Your third orgasm brought you to tears, vision going black as you squeezed your thighs together, hands gripping his chestnut curls as you tried to steady your breathing. He hummed into your cunt, softly patting your clit making you yelp in surprise, parting your legs to watch as he slowly pulled away. “Are you alright?”

You stared at him, almost dumbfounded. “Y-You… you just ate me out and made me cum three times and you’re asking if I’m alright?”

His brows furrowed as he leaned up, wiping his mouth before licking the back of his hand where all your juices went and kissing under your eyes. He was careful not to get too close to your actual eyes, just in case, only kissing where tears fell. “You’re crying. I don’t like it when you cry.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck after he slowly pulled off his shirt and tugged his pants down to his ankles before kicking them off. “I’m crying out of pleasure. You make me feel so good, Peter.”

He smiled widely down at you, leaning lower to press another kiss to your lips. “Well, I want to make you feel better. Especially with how good you’re making me feel, princess, you make me feel so good. Make me so happy.”

“W-Wait!” Your voice was loud, surprising him as he stared up at you in confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“I-I… I want to ride you. Please?”

He pauses, but nods with a smile. “Alright. But you can’t be gentle. Don’t be gentle. I want it all.”

You nodded, laughing loudly as he twisted you both over, helping you steady yourself over his aching cock. It was long, thick and veiny, tip red and leaking precum in desperation as he whined, bucking his hips. You giggled, slowly wrapping your hand around his before he nodded and watched as you slowly sunk down.

You gasped, nodding as he slowly pushed into you, his head tilting back and his mouth falling open. Your eyes rolled back into your head, vision blurring as his girth stretched you out even more, every time you thought he bottomed out the more he kept pushing. You whined loudly, hands pushing against his chest as he groaned loudly, eyes wide as he tried to catch his breath.

His body was sheening with sweat, a smile blooming on his face as you dug your nails into his chest, scratching against his skin as you tried to compose himself. This is what he wanted when he wanted you to claim him, he wanted your nails to scratch on his body, your mouth to leave hickies and bite marks, he wanted to be yours.

He watched as you slowly started to bounce on his cock, his eyes staring at your bouncing tits before letting them wander down your body, staring at the bulge on your lower stomach. He hissed loudly as you got harder, fixing your position as your clit rubbed against his pelvis, eyes rolling back.

Your cunt felt just as good wrapped around his cock as it did wrapped around his tongue and fingers, every movement had it squelching and convulsing around his shaft, loud groans falling from his lips as his large hands settled on your hips, thumbs settling on that giant bulge on your stomach.

He watched your mouth fall open as you screamed out, fixing both of your positions to buck his hips up into you and watch your boys fall forward. He kept your body against his, flipping you both over to wrap his arm around your body and press his face into your neck, groaning loudly into your skin as your nails dragged against his back.

He thrusted as hard as he could, desperate to find his climax as your body bounced with this thrusts, loud moans leaving your lips with each thrust and his name falling from your lips over and over. “Yes baby, you’re doing so good. Your cunt is so fucking good baby, I love the way you feel around my dick,” he groans, gasping as your mouth pressed to his skin. “Fuck, fuck yes princess, I want to be covered in you. Want your hickies and your kisses, your scratches and your bites, I don’t care, I want to be covered in you.”

You obviously didn’t expect him to be so into marking, but of course, you weren’t going to say no. You sucked bright purple marks on his skin, digging your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your screams as the bed slammed into the wall, the squelching of your cunt and the slaps of skin against skin echoing against the wall was enough chorus of your sex.

You could feel his dick driving into the deepest parts of you, stretching your cunt so that if you looked down you could see the bulge that just seemed to be getting bigger and bigger. Your eyes rolled back as his fingers rubbed against your clit, whispers of praise falling from his tongue as those same sparks ran up his spine, his stupid little mind finally connecting the dots. “Are you about to cum? Are you about to cum baby?”

You nodded your head into his marked up neck, your tongue slowly licking against the bite mark on his neck as you whined into his neck. “Fuck, fuck Peter! Fuck, I can’t, I can’t!”

“Yes you can baby, you can,” he whispers, pulling away to hold your chin. “Look at me fucking you baby, don’t you want me to keep fucking you? I’ll make you feel better than you make me feel, I’ll fuck you so good. I’ll pump all my cum inside of you and you’ll be such a perfect girl for me and take all of it, right?”

Your eyes rolled back, mouth lulling open as you nodded mindlessly. “Yes! Yes, I will, I’ll take all of it!”

“Fuck, fuck Y/N, you don’t know how much I’ve wanted to cum inside of you, fill you up and watch all of my cum make your stomach bulge,” his voice gets huskier, almost like a growl as his thrusts get rougher, messier. “Fucking hell!”

You screamed this time, watching as he completely pulled out of you just to slam back in, your mind blurring as he continued to pull out and slam back in. You could feel your thighs shaking, that knot in your stomach threatening to break. “Peter, Peter! I’m going to cum, I need to cum!”

“No!” He whined, shaking his head as he started to get faster, his hips rough as his hands held your sides, eyes rolling back. “I’m gonna cum, cum with me. Please honey, I want to feel you, I need it.”

A final scream falls from your lips as he bottoms out, eyes rolling back and body shaking as your fourth orgasm absolutely blurred your mind, endless babbles leaving your lips as he panted above you. He stared down at your stomach, the bulge that shouldn’t have been able to get bigger successfully larger. “Fuck honey, look at what I did to your pretty tummy.”

You did, your mind still slightly hazy, but your mouth fell open when you saw the bulge and a whine fell from your lips. “Y-You’re still hard.”

He smiled. “It’s from the spider bite.”

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frost-queen · 3 months

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Starcrossed lovers // part 2 (Reader x Peter Parker) NWH

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @minimin1993, @narniansmagic, @benonlinear, @canthebest1, @mellowdreamlandpost-blog, @thewhitewolfmarvel, @freek12569

Summary: The battle is ending as you finally have a sight of why Peter was so drawn to you. Can you rewrite the stars or will they remain unchanged forever? [ part 1 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 ]

You gasped looking up. A sandstorm picked up as broken off pieces of the structure got lifted up in the air. From your position on the ground, you could easily see the battle. All three Peter’s swinging on their web. Peter, your Peter was focused on Green Goblin. Peter two focusing on Lizard.

Peter three avoiding a bolt of electricity. They were so occupied they didn’t had eyes for what was happening behind them. Eyes widening you saw the broken off pieces fly towards Peter three. You ran out from your hiding position. – “Peter!” – you screamed loud, gaze upwards.

Peter three’s eyes widened hearing your voice. As if his spider tingle was tuned on finding your voice blindly. His immediate reaction was to look down to you. – “Peter!” – you screamed again pointing upwards. Peter’s gaze went back up, looking back in horror at the flying piece of structure coming his way.

He shot a web swinging past it just in time. His action made him nearly bump against Peter one, your Peter. Peter three was dangling sloppy and out of balance. He shot another web directing him to vast ground on the construction. He needed to find his balance again.

His feet touched vast ground as he stumbled a bit forwards. Ned moving out of the way just in time. – “What are you doing the battle is up there.” – Ned called out. Peter grabbed onto the railing, shooting Ned a glare out of breath. MJ slapped him hard against the arm. – “You try fighting off all those villains.” – MJ said coming to his defence.

Peter saluted her before jumping on the railing and leaping into the depts. MJ came running over to the railing, greeted by a tumbling Peter in the air as his web had released. Strange was on top as a piece of construction went his way.

He quickly opened a portal as it flung through it. Another portal opened closer to the ground. Surprised you looked up, eyes wide in horror. A piece of structure slowly falling down. You started to scream, running to a direction, hoping you’d be fast enough to not get squashed. – “Y/n!” – Peter one called out in a panic.

“On it!” – Peter two replied setting himself off to jump down. He kept falling till he shot out a web. Changing his position to swing fast, opening an arm. He lifted his feet up so they wouldn’t scrape the ground as he flung low.

With a loud oof where you grabbed and lifted up in the air with him. – “Careful out there Y/n.” – he said with a soft chuckle. – “Blame Strange.” – you mumbled out. Peter two came to a stop further away. He let go of you. – “Go hide!” – he ordered before launching himself back in the air.

You ran to some rubble, finding a hiding spot in between. There you waited for the battle to come to an end. Hoping Strange wouldn’t drop another boulder on you. While you waited, unconsciously were you pulled back to the feeling when you fell.

The fear making your muscles tense. Then that warm feeling came when Peter caught you. Somehow when you were in his arms, your fear faded away. Seeing the fear and heartbreak in his eyes made you yearn to comfort him.

Being with him was like a movie you had seen before. Something close yet out of reach. There was no denying the way his presence made you feel. Feel visible. With Peter, your Peter you were visible too, but not that much.

You very much felt like a side-character watching the main one’s have a wonderful life as you faded out into nothingness. Only being present when you were requested. Sometimes you felt lonely around your friends. Almost as if you were that one person just too much.

It wasn’t a great feeling. With Peter, Peter three you didn’t felt that way. It felt like you were actually mattered. A feeling you wanted to hold onto for as long as it could.

Everyone made their way down as the battle had been stilled. Peter one had held MJ to bring her down safely. Ned was with Strange as Peter two and three joined. MJ and Peter hugged tightly. Ned exhaled relieved running up to them. Peter three looked around worried.

“Y/n? Where is Y/n?” – he said in a bit of a panic. You hear your name, moving a fallen plate out of your way to clear your way. - “Peter!” – you called out as three heads turned your way. You came out of your hiding place now that the battle had toned down. – “Y/n.” – Peter said from your earth relieved.

You started to run up to them beyond relieved that no one was too injured. Perhaps a few bruises. He smiled opening his arms a bit to you, ready to receive a hug from you. Yet his smile faltered when you ran past him to another Peter. You swung your arms around Peter three as they liked to call him and spun around with him as he hugged you tightly back.

Peter, your Peter gaped confused at you. Peter two came by his side placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Peter three had his hand against the back of your head. – “Are you hurt?” – he asked setting you back down. You shook your head, presenting your good state to him.

“All clear.” – you joked making him smile saddened. – “Peter.” – Strange called out. Peter three lowered his head knowing what was to come. Tilting your head a bit, you watched Peter carefully. – “Why are you sad?” – you asked.

He lifted his head up with a teary smile. – “You gave me something I could only dream off.” – he told you letting his thumb brush against your cheek. You smiled genuinely back at him. – “Peter.” – Strange persisted on, waiting to send him back. Peter’s smile faded knowing he’d never get to see you again.

MJ picked up on the way Peter was looking at you. It made him look at her own Peter for a moment. – “You lost someone didn’t you?” – she asked out of the blue. Peter lifted his head up to her, surprised. He then nodded saddened. – “I…I did…” – he answered. His hand slid down as his head lowered briefly. – “I…I lost your MJ…” – he gestured at your Peter. – “My… my Y/n.” – he swallowed down the knot in his throat.

You blinked surprised to him, hearing your name out of his mouth. Suddenly it was all so clear. The feeling why you felt so attracted to Peter. Like magnets. Your first reaction was to throw your arms around him and embrace him. Wanting to be close to him.

Peter hugged you tightly back. He didn’t want the feeling to end. Neither did you. – “Peter! Say your final goodbye’s.” – Strange called out. It made you pull away. – “Can’t… can’t he stay?” – you asked as his hand was still on your lower back. Strange shook his head. – “No kid, this world can’t have two spiderman. He belongs on his earth, where they need a spiderman like him.” – Strange explained.

Peter and you looked at each other. – “What if…” – Peter started as you finished off his words. – “What if I come with him?” – you suggested. – “What?” – Peter called out, your Peter. – “Y/n you can’t be serious!” – he called out walking up to you. – “You belong here with us!” – he made perfectly clear.

“Do I Peter?” – you answered back. You turned away from your Peter, back to Strange. – “I can come with him right? He lost his Y/n, so it wouldn’t create a paradox, right?” – you explained. – “Kid…” – Strange began as you knew he was going to tell you no.

“That’s not how it works. The you from his world is no more. You don’t belong there. I’m sorry.” – he told you. – “There must be a way?” – Peter three exclaimed. – “There isn’t!” – Strange answered snappy. Peter, your Peter was pulling on your wrist, pulling you away from him. – “No… please…” – you begged reaching out to Peter. Peter knew he was being selfish but he wanted you.

He missed you so deeply, he couldn’t imagine a world without you. Peter reached back for you. You broke free from Peter’s grip, running up to him. You clamped yourself onto him, not wanting to let go. – “I just want you.” – you told him. Peter held tightly onto you, afraid he might lose you again if he loosened his grip on you. – “I love you Y/n. On every earth.” – he told you as you slowly felt his grip loosen.

Confused you stumbled a bit forwards at the loss of a grip. With glossy eyes your arms embraced yourself. Crying you fell to your knees. Peter, your Peter approached you placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. You brushed it off, wanting nothing of him. Strange had finished the spell without anyone knowing.

Peter stumbled forwards, looking confused at his empty hands. – “No…no…n-n-no…” – he stumbled out grabbing the air, wanting to feel your last touch. – “Nooo!” – he cried out dropping to his knees. Strange had finished the spell. Sending him back to his earth alone. It felt more dreadful knowing he had you back, just to be taken away.

Once again his heart began to bleed with sorrow and grief. Grief overtaking him so badly, he started to hyperventilate in the abandoned alleyway. This was torture. After a while he dragged himself back to his house. Aunt May looking worriedly up.

“Where have you…” – she was about to scold him when she noticed the stained tears on his cheek. She immediately ran up to him, embracing him for comfort. – “I’ve lost her again…” – he said to Aunt May as she furrowed her brows.

She moved some hair aside to sooth him. She knew how hard your death had fallen upon him. Peter went to his bedroom letting himself fall onto his bed. Staring at the ceiling, he felt like spinning. – “I’ve lost you once, but not again…” – he told himself.

“I’ll find a way… even if it is the last thing I do.” – he rolled over to his side, his gaze falling on the many pictures of you and him on his wall. – “Come back to me…” – he said with a tiny crack in his voice.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

don't worry a next part will come

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moonstruckme · 2 months

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happy valentines day!!! i literally love ur work and was wondering if you could maybe write something with tasm!peter and him sneaking in through readers window after a long day and hes super tired and disoriented since the lights are all off in the room and he just knocks over a bunch stuff and wakes reader up but just climbs into bed and falls asleep like immediately, suit and mask on and everything

Thank you for requesting ml!

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 276 words

You start to stir because of the cold, but you really wake up when there’s a loud crash to your right.

You sit up on your elbows, heart nearly jumping out your throat at the sight of a lean figure coming towards your bed. You calm down when you make out the familiar red suit.

“Who keeps their books stacked like that anyway,” your boyfriend mutters, climbing over what is now a pile of books on your floor. The streetlight is at his back, coming in with the cool breeze through your open window. It casts him in deep shadow, but you can still see the lethargy in his form as he all but collapses into your bed.

“Peter,” you mumble, voice scratchy, “what’re you doing here?”

“Shh, go to sleep.” He slings an arm loosely over your waist, spreading out on top of your covers, and goes silent.

Delicately, careful not to pull his hair, you take the top of his mask between your fingers and tug it off. He’s dead asleep. Mouth open, cheek squished against the pillow, the whole nine yards. You comb one of his eyebrows with your pinkie finger, studying him drowsily. His breath deepens until it’s rattling through him, bordering upon a snore, and then he shudders slightly, pulling you closer. You grin and reach down for the thick blanket you keep at the end of the bed, covering him before he can catch cold by his own mistake of leaving the window open.

You settle back in beside him. “Love you,” you murmur.

Peter snuggles into you until his face is against your collar, mumbling something in the affirmative.

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shewroteaworld · 10 months

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Movie Date Migraine

Premise: On a movie date with Peter Parker, a migraine strikes you down. You don't want Peter to see you like this, but he refuses to let you go home alone.

Reader is female-identifying. Reader has hair long enough to be put in a ponytail.

Word count: aprox. 3,500

tw: descriptions of nausea and vomiting, reference to childhood trauma (unspecified)

(Y/N) knows she should go home.

But, she can’t. Not until this movie is finished.

Sitting next to Peter Parker in the darkness of the movie theater, with your forearms touching and fingers brushing when you reach for popcorn, is typically an experience that sends heat dancing up your arms and butterflies flitting around your stomach.

Right now, nausea was the only thing pulsing through your stomach. And with the surround sound tightening the band around your forehead and the lights sending sparks across your vision, Peter’s arm touching yours is only adding to the sensory tsunami slamming you.

You denied it when zigzags cut across your vision when you touched up your lipstick in the elevator. You denied it when Peter’s voice distorted on your walk to the theater. You denied it when a wave of dizziness hit you on your way to the restroom. But now, you couldn’t deny it any longer: a migraine storm was upon you. A rough night awaits, but you’re not ready for Peter to get up close and personal with your migraines yet.

For your entire life, you battled with migraine. In grade school, the pain forced you out of field trips, sports practices, and musical rehearsals and into bed with blackout curtains drawn, a cool cloth laid on your forehead, and a bucket by your bedside. Not a particularly attractive sight for your new(ish) boyfriend to see.

The aura for this headache was coming on strong. When the actors’ voices began changing intonation like a chameleon changing colors, you knew a harsh spell encroached. You need to make it through this date and get back to your apartment before Peter sees you collapse in a pile of puke and tears.

And, you have a game plan. Phase 1: Make it through the film without collapsing or puking. Phase 2: When Peter walks you home, hold his arm and lay your head on his shoulder. It’ll masquerade as a cute gesture, when in reality, you’ll be using him as a human cane. Phase 3: Get home, lock the door, and go into Migraine Emergency Mode.

Slowly but surely, you were revealing your layers to Peter at a safe, comfortable pace. This shitty action movie was not going to get in the way.

An abrupt on-screen crash shocks you out of your scheming. The main characters sent their car careening into a ditch. Just as the jackhammering in your head began to die down, the car burst into flames.

You throw a hand over your eyes. A gurgle of nausea twists in your gut.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” Peter whispers in your ear.

You snap your eyes open. So much for appearing nonchalant. You take your hand from your face. Red hot pain radiates down your body, but you clamp your lips into a neutral expression. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Do you need some air?”

On one hand, you could surrender. You could let Peter walk you into the foyer and buy you an icy drink to hold to your eye. Maybe you could even let Peter take you home and cuddle you through the pain. You know Peter wants to be there for you.

You shove those fantasies from your mind.

“No.” You whisper at a volume only Spider-Man could hear.

Suddenly, a yelling match breaks out on screen. You close your eyes shut. You can’t hold back a whimper.

Peter wraps his arm around your shoulders. “Honey, you don’t seem alright. We can leave.”

Your resolve crumples. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry” barely passes your lips before Peter’s slung both your jackets over his arm and looped the strap of your cross body bag around his fingers. “Please, don’t be sorry.” Peter stands in front of you, but you stare at your lap. Peter’s fingers intertwine with hers. “I’m sure this blockbuster will be here all summer.” He jokes, and in your mind’s eye you can see his smirk. You don’t have the energy to crack a smile.

“C’mon, sweetie.” Gently, Peter grabs your limp wrist.

You focus all the energy in your body to propel you out of the chair. You stumble into Peter’s chest.

He stabilizes you. “Okay, baby, okay.” He soothes.

“I’m sorry.” You say.

“Sweetheart, you’re fine.” He’s bending down to meet your eyes, but you refuse to look at his face. “Lean on me. Let’s get you out of here.”

With Peter’s arm wrapped around your waist and your head resting on his chest, you descend the cinema stairs and make your way out of the theater.

***

Getting down the stairs wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be. Typically, during a migraine, stairs are your personal hell.

But, with Spider-Man supporting most of your bodyweight, the physical exertion lessens significantly.

Plus, it’s not just the safety of Spider-Man that’s helping. It’s Peter Parker’s safe hands holding you close. It’s Peter Parker's frame shielding you from gruff moviegoers working their way around you down the mall steps. It’s Peter Parker keeping you upright, and that’s enough to keep your brain generating numbing happy chemicals even in the worst of times.

Peter guides you to a bench next to the atrium. You lay your head on his shoulder, but abruptly sit up.

This nightmare gets worse from here. You have to go home by yourself. You’re not ready for this. You’re not–

“(Y/N), honey? Are you with me?” Peter’s tenderly cradling your face. “You’re starting to scare me.”

You blink. “I’m here, I’m here.” You take a deep breath to ground yourself from the swirling dizziness. You force a weak smile. “Just a little headache.”

Peter cocks an eyebrow. “A little headache?” He cradles your chin. “You look like you’ve been concussed, babe.” Softer, he asks, “Do you get migraines?”

Your chest falls. The jig is up. “Yeah, I’m having a migraine.”

“Okay.” His tone is soft, but there’s a hardness in his eyes and a pinch between his brows and you know it’s not from worry. He’s annoyed you didn’t tell him. If there’s one thing that puts a rift between you and Peter, it’s that you won’t let him help you. You didn’t tell him when you forgot your lunch the day you had a big presentation. You didn’t tell him when your insomnia came back. You didn’t tell him when you caught the 24-hour bug 2 months ago. And now he knows you’ve been hiding this.

“I’m sorry.” You squeak.

“Oh, honey, no.” Peter whispers. “Let’s just focus on getting you out of here and in bed. Don’t even think. I’ll get you back to my apartment.”

“No,” you shake your head but stop when nausea slithers up your throat. You swallow hard. “No, I need to go home.”

“Sweetheart, your apartment’s across town, and I don’t think you can walk or swing right now.”

The damp wool of your sweater constricts your sweaty skin. “I have all my medication and things in my apartment.” You argue, but the fight in your voice is weak.

“I have lots of meds and supplies stocked because of…you know. I think I’ve got everything you need, and I can always swing over to your apartment to grab something.”

Suddenly, a crowd of moviegoers comes stomping towards the foyer, ushering in a cacophony of laughter and voices.

You squeeze your eyes shut, and Peter drags your face into his shoulder. You fist his sweatshirt and squeeze until your fingers hurt.

“Let’s get you home, my love.” He whispers.

You know by home he doesn’t mean your apartment. You know he means his place, where you spend half of your time and have your personal belongings threaded through his.

Maybe it’s the crippling exhaustion. Maybe it’s the fact that every step sends pain shooting through your skull. Regardless, you surprise yourself with your answer.

“Okay.”

***

“I know, I’m sorry, honey.” Peter whispers into your hair. He presses your body against his side as he leads you to the second set of elevators in the foyer.

Dating a chemical engineer has its perks; Peter could afford a nice apartment. However, the first set of elevators broke an hour after you left for your date. More steps for you.

Even with Peter nearly carrying you, the final stretch to the elevator feels like a mile. The wait for the elevator to arrive worsens when a twist of nausea wracks your stomach. But soon, the elevator doors ding open.

As soon as the doors shut behind you, you push against Peter’s hold.

“Babe?” He asks. He lets you go free.

You sink to the floor and unbutton your jacket. You take a deep breath, reveling in the coolness of the air conditioning and freedom from residual body heat.

“I feel nauseous.” You groan.

He kneels next to you. “Do you need to throw up?” There was something about his hand on your shoulder, his tone, and his stern yet compassionate expression that reminded you of Spider-Man. He’d likely posed that same question on the beat to trauma victims. The guilt bubbling in your stomach amps up the queasiness.

You take a deep, shuddering breath.

“No.” You say. Peter cocks his brow again. Despite yourself, you shrink. “Maybe later. Not at this moment.”

“Okay, darling. Would you let me carry you in?”

You swallow your shame. “Yes,” you say.

Peters picks you up as if you weigh a feather. You wrap your arms around his neck as the elevator opens to his floor.

***

You’re laying in Peter’s bed with his sheets wrapped around your face. Even with the blinds drawn, the New York City lights burn your sensitive eyes.

Despite your prior objections, you can’t deny the comfort of laying in Peter’s soft duvet with the spicy scent of his cologne filling your nose.

You hear the creak of the door as Peter steps into the room.

“Baby?” He whispers. “I brought you some stuff.”

Peter’s gait is slow and light, as if he’s trying not to creak the floorboards. Something taps the bedside table next to you.

“Can I see your head, baby? I know it’s bright outside, but I have this wrap around ice pack I think will really help.”

With a groan, you pull the blankets below your chin. You crack open your eyes, and to your surprise, Peter is holding a black version of your favorite migraine ice pack. It’s like a thick bandage that wraps around your eyes and forehead and velcros closed in the back. It’s cold, pitch black heaven.

You smile weakly. “Thanks, Peter.” You mumble. Dating someone with super hearing is a huge perk when you’re a migraineur.

“Of course.” He whispers.

Peter lays the ice pack on your forehead, and your body relaxes. The pain still pulses like a bass drum beat in a metal song, but at least there’s something combating it.

“Can I help you sit up, sweetie? I want to tie this behind your head.”

You hum your approval.

Gently, Peter raises your limp body and velcros the ends of the ice pack behind your head, creating 360 degree relief.

You moan in relief. “Thank you, Peter.”

“Oh course, sweetheart. There's a glass of water on the bedside table for you. Would you like some Pepto-Bismol?”

You hold back a gag. “No.” You croak. “But thanks.”

“After I change, can I get into bed next to you?”

You can’t help but smile. He’s so conscientious. Too conscientious. “Of course, Peter.”

A few minutes later, the bed slowly sinks as Peter gingerly adds his weight.

“Can I speak, darling?” He asks.

“Mm-hmm.” You hum.

“I’ve never been with you during a migraine before. I want to know how to take care of you. Could you answer some yes or no questions for me?” He whispers. “You don’t need to speak. Maybe one finger for yes and two for no.”

You point your index finger.

“Excellent.” Peter says. “Are you sensitive to light?”

You hold up one finger.

“Are you sensitive to sound?”

Once again, one finger.

“Are you sensitive to touch?”

You hold up two fingers. There’s some nuance to that, but there was only so much you could communicate. You really needed some sleep.

“Okay. Can I hold you?”

Warmth fills your ribcage. “I can’t lay on my side, but could you hold my hand?” Heat burns your cheeks. “And maybe lay against me?”

“Of course.” Peter whispers, a smile in his voice.

He presses a tender kiss to your shoulder. “Goodnight, my love. Feel better.”

***

You wake to a knot in your stomach. You twist onto your side which only tightens the cramp.

You moan. Your eyes crack open only to be weighed down by the ice pack from last night.

Last night. Peter was a saint. You were an embarrassment. A well-loved and well-cared for embarrassment, but falling over yourself all the same.

Your shame spiral stops as soon as it begins when a bubble of queasiness turns you rigid.

Shit.

Not here.

Not now.

You take a deep breath. Peter is slumped against your back, and thanks to his spidey senses, an infinitesimal movement could wake him up. To make matter worse, when it came to you, Peter was always extra jumpy. It was a miracle he hadn’t woken already.

You take another deep breath. Maybe if you lay as still as a statue, the nausea will go away and you’ll drift off to sleep.

A second later, like a wave careening to shore, nausea swells in your chest and up your throat. You sprint from the bed, shoving the sheets onto Peter who instantly jumps awake.

You dash into the bathroom, nearly tripping over your own feet when the carpet transitions to ice cold tile.

You collapse and promptly stick your head into Peter’s toilet bowl. Your face burns with embarrassment, and the humiliation has not reached its peak.

You dry heave three times. Of course, when you start throwing up, you feel your hair being lifted from your shoulders.

“I’m so sorry.” Peter whispers. He must have grabbed a scrunchie from your purse, because your hair stays off your face and neck while Peter’s hands rub your back and hold your hand gripping the toilet tank cover.

You can’t get out the words “get out!” to Peter with all the retching in the way.

“It’s alright. You’re alright. Breathe, baby.” Peter whispers. He draws wide circles on your upper back, and your shoulders betray you by relaxing into his palm.

You didn’t think your stomach could hold so much. You continue to gag, making a mess of Peter’s bathroom, but Peter never flinches. He continues whispering sweet nothings to you until you finish expelling all of last night’s dinner and popcorn.

Stomach aching, you collapse against Peter’s chest.

“You okay?” Peter asks.

“Yeah.” You pant.

“Take some deep breaths.” He whispers. “Would you like some water?”

“Could you make me ginger tea?” You ask. Guilt tightens your throat. You were already puking in his bathroom– you could’ve settled for plain water.

But that’s exactly what Peter has been insisting you work on– being honest about asking for what you need.

He kisses your temple. “Of course.” He says, a smile in his voice.

Two minutes later, Peter returns to the bathroom, a steaming mug in his hand.

He places your tea on the edge of the marble counter. “It’s still brewing.” He whispers.

“You can speak at a normal volume now.” You croak. You were laying on the floor, arms and legs limp yet heavy as lead.

“Is your headache better?” He asks.

“Marginally,” You say. “If I throw up, it’s usually better after.” Like the climax of a movie, once you puke during a migraine attack, it’s usually coming to its resolution.

“Okay.” Peter said, returning to his normal volume. He sits next to you. “Do you want to brush your teeth and go back to sleep?”

“Yes, please.”

Five minutes later, you’re curled under the covers, half a mug of ginger tea sitting on Peter’s bedside table.

You’re about to slip into slumber when Peter asks you a question.

“Can I text your boss that you’re not coming in tomorrow?”

Your breath hitches. Your instincts scream “No!” You have to go to work.

You take what feels like your millionth deep breath in the past 24 hours. But going to work wouldn't be good for your body. You already tried to sit through an action film with a migraine which resulted in you hurling at 3 am. It was time to take Peter’s advice and give your body a break.

“Yes.” You say, relief and guilt washing over you simultaneously.

“Okay.” Peter says, satisfaction in his voice. “Sleep tight, my love. Rest up.”

Peter presses a soft kiss against your hairline as you fall back to sleep.

***

“We need to talk.”

“I know,” you say. You knew this was coming. As soon as you walked into the kitchen this morning, you could tell Peter was holding something in from the hitch in his jaw. Being the gentleman he is, he gave you the grace of waking up a bit more and making sure your migraine was gone before starting any serious conversation. You watch the brown sugar dissolve into your peppermint tea as you trace the spoon around the circumference of the mug.

“Can we sit?” He asks.

You stop stirring. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.” You keep your back turned to him. Guilty tears fill your eyes.

“(Y/N), look at me. I’m not mad, I’m just….frustrated? I’m at a loss.” He amends.

Blinking wasn’t helping. You twist your face further away from Peter, determined not to let him catch a glimpse of your melodrama from the kitchen table. “It’s okay if you're angry with me. We already talked about this. And I ruined your night.”

“But that’s the problem.” Peter says. “You didn’t ruin anything. The reason I’m annoyed is because you think any little inconvenience like you being sick or unhappy is an annoyance when it’s really not. You’re my girlfriend, and I want to help. I want to figure out how to help you.” He sighs. “And before I can do that, I want to figure out what I can do better to build that trust between us."

You face Peter. “Peter, there’s nothing more you can do. You’ve been perfect.” Peter Parker is more of a perfect boyfriend than you could’ve imagined. He’s a human– he’s flawed— but he has one of the most beautiful souls you’ve ever come across. “It’s just me, I’m just…scared.” You admit. You turn your gaze to the kitchen island.

“What can I do to help you feel safer?”

And there was the crux of the issue: Peter has done everything to make you feel safe. But the wall between you and Peter has nothing to do with Peter.

“It’s hard for me to feel vulnerable with people because of…you know.”

Peter nods. He knew most of the unsavory details of your bittersweet childhood. “I know. Did I do something that triggered memories?” Peter asks, anxiety creeping into his voice.

“Peter.” You meet his eyes for the second time. “Absolutely not. You’re so good to me.” A tear drips down your cheek. “I want to tell you. About everything. I want to call you when I’m sick and tell you when I’m hurting.” You blink up at the ceiling. “It’s just so hard to break through that wall. To feel safe feeling vulnerable again. And I’ve talked about it with my therapist, I’ve been trying it’s just…such a big step.”

“Would it help if we discuss it together? All three of us?” Peter asks. The confusion must have shown on your face. “Maybe we could have a session together so we could work through this.”

“Really?” You ask, voice cracking.

“Of course, really.” Peter says, half-smiling.

“You’re not breaking up with me?” The question slips from your lips before you can hold your tongue.

Peter looks like he’s been slapped. “Over a migraine?”

“Over not being vulnerable enough. Not giving you enough.” The words leave a bad taste in your mouth. You weren’t able to give Peter what he needed. Your caged heart won’t open.

Peter stands. “(Y/N), you’ve given me more than enough. Who’s there to stitch me after patrol? Who’s on the phone with me at 3 o’clock in the morning when I have night terrors? Who has all of my grounding strategies memorized because I have panic attacks?”

A small smile slips onto your face. “Me.”

“(Y/N),” Peter smiles. “You’re the most amazing girlfriend I could ask for.”

You open your arms, and Peter wraps you in the warmest hug.

Even with someone as safe and loving as Peter, being vulnerable was going to be hard. But if there’s someone you want to go on this trek with, it was Peter Parker.

“I wouldn't want to go on this journey with anyone but you.”

Peter squeezes you tighter. “We’ll get through this together.”

---

Author's Note: Hello! This is my first fic I've ever finished, and I'm super excited to post this! I'm new to having a writing blog, but would love to start chatting!

xoxo, shewroteaworld

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 1 year

Note

feeling like shit rn, can you please write pete teasing his drunk baby and cleaning her up, holding her hair back when she pukes, she's like "i'm a mess, how can you love me" and he's kissing her face, that kind of fluffy shit <3

this is so stinkin cute

YOUR GIRL- P.B PARKER

Pairing: Boyfriend! Peter x Girlfriend! Reader

Word Count: 843

Warnings: some swearing, and vomiting ofc. but petnames and lots of fluff:))

"carry me to my bed, lay me in a pillow town kiss me on my head and remind me of the way we will not know

i wish i was your girl..."- your girl, lana del rey (unreleased)

“M’Peter I’m done. No more.” you moaned, your body feeling weak and achey as you leaned against your forehead against the toilet seat.

You felt like you were being punched in the gut, pins and needles pricking your clammy skin as the world began to spin again. The booze was rushing to your head, and you started to regret drinking so much.

Actually, you started regretting it nearly half an hour ago, the cool bathroom tile becoming an secret oasis for you as you heaved up sweet coolers and warm shots of fireball.

“No, no baby you gotta get it all out. You’ll feel so much better.” he cooed from above you, hand holding your hair back, the other stroking your back in small, soothing circles.

You were jealous of how much better he could handle his alcohol. You were jealous of the fact he didn't have the taste of sickly sweet six percent on his teeth, mixed with the taste of faint vomit.

“I’m not feeling better. M’feeling worse. You’re lying.” you stated, groaning as you felt the contents in your stomach roll over like a tidal wave.

“I never lie sweetheart, you know this. Stop being mean.” he laughed, watching as you weakly attempted to reach behind yourself to swat at him. Before you could make another sly comment back, it was too late.

“Oh g-god-” you hiccuped, leaning further towards the toilet bowl as you felt the room start to spin.

“Oh, there she goes. Atta girl, let it all out.” he winced, patting your back as you heaved everything up, feeling as if you'd choke.

“Good girl. See? It’s better.” he said, reaching over to grab the damp cloth he had been using to help clean you up, so you’d stop (attempting) to use the back of your hand as a means of getting the puke off your lips.

“No not better. You’re better.” you moaned, not relaxing your words had made no sense.

“I am better. Now look up for me, good girl.” he smiled as you obeyed, makeup slightly smudged as he wiped the warm facecloth across the lower half of your face. Leaning down, he scattered kisses across your face, leaving you giggly as his lips brushed every inch of skin, tickling your eyelashes.

“I’m a mess, how can you l-love me?” you slurred, hearing the toilet flush before he helped you stumble upwards to stand.

“You’re not a mess. You’re beautiful.” he shoke his head, and you reached for the edge of the counter to help steady yourself.

You felt awful. You knew tomorrow morning would be hell on earth, and you already could predict the amount of tylenol and gravol you’d have to down with lots, and lots of water. It seemed like a chore, so out of reach as you felt yourself being guided towards the bed.

You couldn't even remember whose bed it was. It certainly wasn't yours.

“Do you wanna try and get out of these clothes?” Peter asked, to which you could only nod. Exhaustion washed over your bones, and you felt weak and nimble as thread as you swayed in place.

“I need them off. They’re sticking to me.” you complained, feeling like a rag doll as he moved your limbs to better suit his needs, lifting your arms up to slide your shirt off.

“I wish I was your girl. I wanna be your girlfrienddd.” you blurted out, slouching back on the bed, head pressed against the crisp sheets and you breathed them in. They were coated in the smell of Peter, and a sigh of relief escaped your lips as you realized you were safe in the comfort of his bed.

You could hear his laughter, though it sounded slightly muffled and distant as he unbuttoned your jeans, sliding the deminum down your legs and letting them plop onto the floor with the rest of your garments.

“You are my girlfriend silly. And I wouldn't have it any other way.” he hummed, shuffling you around so you were vertical, head collapsing on the pillow.

“Really? That's so sweet.” you smiled, content with the idea that the two of you were together (despite being a couple for over a year), as you always wanted.

“Lets just stay here. We can stay here all night.”

“We are staying here all night. And all day, most likely. You’re not moving in this condition.”

You smiled. “That means more time to cuddle.” you giggled, and he leaned over to kiss your forehead before turning away.

“W-where are you going? I thought we were going to cuddle, cause you’re my boyfriend and that's what they do!” you pouted, reaching aimsley for his hand in an attempt to keep him from leaving you.

“We will cuddle baby I promise. I’m gonna get some stuff like meds and a bucket okay? I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, letting your hand fall limp against the sheets. Before you could stop them, your eyelid started to droop, the world turning dark as you dozed off into dreamland.

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hellsburners · 10 months

Text

yellow sunrise

summary: you and peter take things to the next step. pairing: teacher!peter parker x librarian!male reader word count: 2.8k warnings: fluff, a bit of angst, eventual smut, protected sex, top!peter, bottom!reader, tears were shed you guest how, peter is a good boyfriend..kinda? a/n: part 2 to orange juice^^

masterlist | more peter parker

The past few weeks have been very good. Peter would occasionally visit you in the library with packed lunch, you tried to do the same but cooking was never really your strong suit. You would spend lunches eating together at the library talking about stuff going around the school, Mayday, and the library. He also took you to a new science museum in Brooklyn, the two of you stood in awe as you saw new advances in science and technology.

Mrs. Diaz, the head librarian, took note of your good performance for the past months and has said that she will give a good word for your promotion. You and Peter went out on a drink that night to celebrate. You have also stayed in touch with Mayday, the three of you would watch movies together, go to parks, and it was like you were bing included in their small family.

On the way home from work, you were carrying an Ikea bag full of art materials since the library department settled on joining in with halloween decorations. You planned on cutting up colored paper into some decor. It was cold tonight, so cold that you zipped your jacket over your two seaters as you went to a bodega to grab a sandwich for dinner. The old man in the cashier took your order and you gave him 6 dollars in return. The heavy blue bag sinking into your skin makes it hurt a little. A small TV, like the box ones with antenna, near the cash register was playing the news.

BREAKING NEWS: Multiple assailants attack a bank in Queens. The villains known as The Sinister Six attacked a local bank seeking the presence of the web-slinging hero, Spider-man. The assailants are identified by their aliases, Boomerang, Beetle, Shocker, Overdrive, and Speed Demon. Four hostages were seen in the premises but a final number has not been confirmed.

The old man gave you the sandwich and you went hurrying to your next block. A few corners from the bodega you saw smoke billowing in the street corner to your place. The beetle flying with her pink wings as Spider-man came swinging after her. A crowd of people surrounded the bank, police on hold to barricade them. You knew how dangerous this was but you’ve never seen Spider-man in person, and there he was.

Spider-man was wounded by sharp boomerangs that flew across the sky. There were five villains against one Spider-man. You saw the hostages leave the bank from Spider-man distracting the criminal, some were wounded and coughing from the smoke. Your mind went to Peter, is he safe? You tried to dial for his number but no one answered. Spider-man took the Sinister Six one by one, the crowd cheered for him.

With worry dragging on your foot you hurried home. You kept on dialing for Peter’s phone, still no answer. In your peripheral you could see a shadow creeping up behind you. You tried to walk faster but the man’s hand was already on your shoulder. “Nice phone you got there kiddo,” the masked man said. Your heart raced, he was holding a short kitchen knife. “Come on now, give it away or else I’ll hurt ‘ya!” the man swung his knife at you but you quickly fell back. You ran yelling for help as he stood up to run after you.

“You know, I was on my way home from the bank earlier but I heard some yelling and then I see you Bernard,” the man perched in a streetlamp yelled. A masked man in red and blue, Spider-man. He flicked his wrists and webs stuck to the thief’s arms binding them together. He swung down and bound the thief’s legs too. He wrapped him in webs and stuck him to the pole. Spider-man picked your phone from the man’s pocket and gave it to you.

“You saved my life,” you said.

“Yeah, just your friendly neighborhood Spider-man,” You couldn’t help but stand in awe. “By the way, this street gets a little dark at night, prone to pickpockets so I suggest you go through the other street it's safer.”

You were speechless in his presence but you managed to utter another thank you. Spider-man made sure the man was stuck to the pole and swung again. You rushed to your apartment, no more stops, you promised. Your phone rang the moment you got inside, it was Peter.

“Peter! Oh my god I was so worried, are you okay?” you put your stuff down, unzipping your jacket afterwards.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry I couldn’t pick up your phone. I was doing some laundry,” you let out a sigh of relief. “How about you, are you okay? I saw the news.”

“Well, I almost got robbed. But Spider-man saved my life!” you could hear sirens outside your winds and in Peter’s, his being a bit louder. “Are you outside?”

“Oh, I just got in. Have you eaten?” he said, diverting the topic. Your eyes glanced at the paper bag in your bag, the contents flattened, some sauce leaking through the paper.

“Well, my sandwich got smushed so I’ll try to salvage what's left of it.” he laughs.

“I’m gonna call you later, I promised Mayday I’ll let her show me her new drawings from art class,” you felt relieved knowing he gets to talk to her. Whenever Mayday is even mentioned in conversation a weight would leave his shoulders.

✎𓇢𓆸

You snuggled up in bed wearing a worn out shirt and gym shorts. You were reading a book, your eyes weighing in as you turn a new page. Your phone rings, Peter was a man of his word. You pick up the phone, Peter says he was just getting into bed as well. He groans as you hear him get down in the soft cotton sheets.

“Sorry, did I bother you?” he said. You assured that he didn’t since you love hearing his voice, especially before sleep. It was comforting. “So, how was this Spider-man? Did you finally feel like you met the man of your dreams?” he says jokingly.

“We actually kissed as he went down on his webs. It was very romantic,” you retort.

“Is that so?” he says, his brows raised. He was being playful. “That's all you did? Next time let me watch.”

“Okay, you voyeur,” you chuckle. “Snooping around me and Spider-man.” you gave him a bossy tone. You both laugh from the sheer childishness of your conversation.

“You know what I want?” his voice lowers to a gravelly hoarse whisper, like a morning voice. “I want whatever Spider-man is having.” You giggled. Peter and you have been tip-toeing on taking things to the next level. You’ve made out before, gotten to some touching, once you even straddled him while making out, but nothing more than that. Peter would always seem to restrain himself.

“You want to get hurt too? Didn’t know you had that side in you, Parker,” you hear Peter groan as he changes positions in bed.

“Would you,” Peter muttered, his voice was shaky, like he was just caught in a lie. Blood rushed through your veins. Whatever scared Peter scared you too. “Would you want to stay with me tomorrow night? I don’t know, I felt like it was time.”

Oh.

He went there, you thought. You weren’t in a rush, in a way you felt scared that doing this would change the dynamic you two had. From being flirty coworkers to something more serious. You bit your lip, thinking about the words that came out of Peter’s mouth. “No pressure of course. I’ll move at whatever pace is most comfortable for the both of us.” he said with a voice that you felt was his sincerest.

“I’d love to. I’m excited actually,” Peter was shocked with your answer, he said he was happy and would make sure you were comfortable.

✎𓇢𓆸

Peter told you to come by his apartment by 9pm since the faculty had its quarterly meeting and would probably finish late. He also said that you should wait for his text before you came, so as not to spoil the surprise, whatever that meant. So you sat on your couch, dressed for the occasion. You made sure everything was good, you looked presentable, showered, flossed and brushed your teeth, you even used your more expensive perfume a friend gave you for your birthday. You looked at the clock ticking and moving its hand at you.

For what felt like forever the clock went from 6pm to 7pm.

And then 8pm.

Then 9pm.

Then it was 11:30pm. No text. No call. Nothing.

You started to feel shame, like someone had undressed you in public, or took away your shoelaces and tied them up together. It was embarrassing, you felt like this was bound to happen. That Peter was bound to disappoint you somehow. That giddy feeling was temporary and it was pulled under you like a rug, hitting your ass on the hardwood floor like an idiot.

Thud!

You went on your feet to check the loud sound that hit your window. You took a kitchen knife and slowly crept your way to the window. The window was open, the wind blowing on the curtains hiding the shadowy figure creeping on you. You heard the figure groan. You slowly saw the man come in. Clad in blue and red spandex, the lean man entered your home. He was unmasked, a man in his 30’s with a slight stubble, his brown hair a tousled mess.

“Peter?”

He looked at you with his large brown eyes. His face had a light cut on his cheek. His gait was weak the way he walked towards you. You couldn’t fathom whatever was in front of you. Your chest heaves from thinking. How long has he been doing this? Is that why—

“Hey, I know what you think,” he gestures for you to calm down.

“You have no idea of what I’m thinking about right now.”

“Just put the knife down and we can talk. Can we talk?” the both of you sat down on your small dining set, your chairs parallel one another. “I’m sorry I was late and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

You made the calculations in your head, Spider-man has been a hero of the city for 17 years. Peter has been doing this for that long? You stared at him speechless. He looked at you with the same sad puppy eyes he would always do, his brows raised and furrowed, his bottom lip protruded a bit, his shoulders relaxed. “I didn’t want to risk your safety.”

“But why show me now?”

“Well, to be honest, I think I got hit pretty well so I couldn’t swing back home.” he smiled. “But most importantly I wanted you to know. So you have the option to stay or to go.”

“Why would I do that?” you said, your arms crossed, your brows furrowed with confusion. Peter looked down on his hands on the table. You could see tears forming under his eyelashes. “Why would you make me choose?” You stood up and took his hands, you held them in your palms, warm and calloused. He looked up at you. You take your thumb and wipe his tears. “I choose to say Pete, because I want to. You’ve been this city’s hero for years. And I’ve looked up to you most of my life. I know you’re capable of protecting the people of this city, but I want to be here to support you. Be the guy who takes care of Spider-man when he’s hurt and to make the man underneath the mask feel loved.”

Peter stood up, his body towering over you. He placed his hands on each side of your face, bending down to place his lips on yours. It was a tender kiss, tears falling from Peter’s face. You bring him to your bedroom, his arms wrapped around your waist. His gloved hands occasionally peered under the hem of your shirt touching bare skin. He tries to grab the zipper on his nape, he struggles a bit, the two of you laughing. You helped him unzip the suit. Your eyes wandered through the landscape of his back, wide and muscular, yet it also showed who he was when the city called. Scars left and right, some new, some old, and yellowish bruises around his ribs.

Peter, now only wearing his black boxers, sat down on the bed with you standing in between his thighs. He peppered your neck with kisses. He started to pull on the hem of your shirt, lifting it above your head. Your shorts and underwear came after. With his hands now placed on the back of your thighs, he gestures for you to straddle him. Doing as you’re told he starts to caress your ass, his large hands hugging them fully.

Peter pulls you back, his back on the bed while you towered on top of him. Your arms both at the side of his head supporting your weight. You could feel Peter’s erection stirring inside his underwear, you rub yourself on the hardness, his eyes fall back as he curses. “You’re unfair,” you said, pointing your eyes at his underwear. Peter smirked, pulling his underwear until it was at his ankles.

You started to stroke his cock while leaving kisses on his neck, your room filled with the sound of grunts and moans. You go down to your knees at the edge of the bed. You take his cock inside your mouth, you hadn’t realized it was the mouthful. Saliva coats his hardness while it goes in and out your mouth. Peter sits on the edge of the bed, his hands running through your hair.

“Fuck, you’re so good.” Peter moans.

“Language Mr. Parker,” you jokingly said before continuing your task. Peter’s noises began to become louder, the grip he had on your hair became tighter. He taps your shoulder, his chest heaving, you ease down releasing his wet cock. The head throbbing and red, white liquid already forming at the tip.

“Do you have condoms?” Peter asked. You stood up to take the condoms and the bottle of lube in your nightstand. Peter takes your hand and brings you to the bed, your positions now reversed, with your back to the bed while his body towers over you. He kisses you once more before he puts the condom on his dick, stroking it with a palm full of lube.

“You ready?” he whispered to your ear. You nod, he puts a lubed finger to your hole, preparing you for his erection. With a slow thrust of his hip he sheathes himself inside you. You both let out a loud groan. You take him to you, kissing him more to ease some of the sting. After your body has acclimated to the pressure, Peter starts to push his cock in and out of you, the pressure begins to turn into pleasure, your eyes welling with tears. Peter starts to suck on the skin on your neck, not enough to mark but enough to make you a whimpering mess under him. Peter’s hands find yours, your fingers intertwined as he places them beside you. His thrusts were deep, the strokes long, you felt so full of him, his body, his scent, his essence. Your body surged with pleasure.

He starts to stroke your cock, your arms now wrapped around his neck. Your mouths become slopier by the second. You tell him you were close, he tells you the same. With his thrusts becoming more erratic your muscles clench making your hole tighter. Peter groaned from the sudden tightness. Your arms wrapped tighter on his neck, his face on your ear letting out profanities. At the moment your moans, his hip and yours, gave out the same rhythm. The pleasure fills you up with intensity. The two of you at the same time called out for each other’s name as you climaxed.

✎𓇢𓆸

You woke up from the scorching heat of the sun on your bare skin, the room filled with yellow light. The window was open and Peter was gone. You stood up to take your shirt and your shorts, stretching your neck before getting a glass of water. In the dining table you saw a paper folded into a flower with a note next to it.

Had to go do something, duty calls (also because I stink). I didn't want to wake you because you looked so peaceful,but I will see you later I promise. Thoughts on swinging around town with me? It’ll be fun I promise! I had a great night by the way. I love you.

-Peter.

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

#peter parker x male reader #peter parker x reader fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker x male reader fluff #spider-man x male reader #peter parker smut #tasm!peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker x male reader smut #the amazing spiderman #tasm!peter parker x male reader #tasm!peter parker x male reader smut #peter parker fanfic #spider-man fic #spider-man x reader

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peterparkerslefttesticle · 1 year

Note

honestly ive been brain rottin over the thoughy of whiney needy peter whos a lil too shy to ask for what he wants and needs some coaxing do u see my vision

babes i see ur vision. i seeeee it.

——————

the moans coming from peters room fell nothing short of dirty, the raunchy scene slowly progressing over the last 30 minutes. as soon as you both had removed every article of clothing, the spider man had frozen, a question brewing behind honeyed eyes.

“pete you can tell me anything. if i’m doing anything to make you uncomfortable or-“

“no no no nothing like that, it’s just,” he draws a sharp inhale, “it’s embarrassing.” he finally meets your eyes, his own resembling that of a pleading puppy. he wanted more than anything for you to know his secret desire, but he also would rather do anything then tell you.

caressing his chin in your palm, he leans into it, cock still pulsing from between your legs. “come on baby. spit it out. all i wanna do is make you feel good and I can’t do that if i don’t know what you want.”

your voice may have been gentle, but he could hear the need lilted through your words. you didn’t want to, you needed to know what was going on in his head.

“I wanna call you mommy okay? I know it’s fucked up and gross and… and… i just-“

“baby that’s not so bad,” his senses perked up at the scent of your ever-growing wetness, “who said I don’t wanna be called mommy. say it.”

“we don’t have to I-“ you sink back down onto his length.

“i said, call me mommy.”

tears prick in his eyes, overwhelmed by all the sensations and excitement.

“please mommy,” he whispers, “i need you mommy.”

“good boy.” he lets out a feral whine as you speed up the gyrating, pornographic sounds coming from where the two of you connect.

“yes yes so good mommy. thank you thank you thank you.” peter continued his tangent of whining and moaning, a familiar coil building in his abdomen.

flipping you over, he started slamming his hips with vigour, the urge to great to hold any longer.

“just want to make you feel good. need to. feels so good mommy.” the words soon lost meaning as he persisted, his groin hitting your clit with every move.

“fuck peter. fuck. i’m so close baby. you gonna come with me?” every movement of his thrusts was sending you closer and closer to the edge.

all it took was a particularly carnal groan from peter to snap the coil, your orgasm crashing down. you could feel him filling you to the brim, cock pulsing within your walls.

still inside you, the large man collapsed, limbs caging you to the bed. when you finally regained the strength to move his head, you were met with peters glassy eyes and tear stained face.

“you okay sweetheart?” he nodded, rolling onto his back beside you with a grimace from the sensitivity. you gathered a damp cloth and returned to clean up the mess you two had made.

once decidedly more or less clean, you gently pulled peters face towards yours. “hey,” you push the damp strands of hair from out of his eyes, “are you okay? was it too much?”

“so good. too good.” he muttered with a tired chuckle. curling back into your arms, the boy fell asleep almost instantly.

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multifandomworldsposts · 5 months

Text

Day 15 of Kinkmas: Studying With Peter Parker

pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

warning: teasing, making out

Y/N’s POV

Peter and I have been studying for a test in Algebra and it’s confusing as fuck! But Peter helps me with it but it’s still confusing. While we were studying, I felt the need to touch him playfully but he was not having it.

“Y/N, can you stop?” Peter asks while trying to focus.

“I can’t help it, you just look attractive while trying to focus.” I whisper in his ear.

I keep on teasing him which he looks like he wants to explode by my teasing. The way he looks at me, he wants to do something to me, but differently. I continue to tease him eventually he pins me down on his bed.

“What did I tell you Y/N/N?” He looks at me dead in the eye.

I try to kiss him, he kisses me back, I guess he couldn’t take the teasing from me anymore. He stops pinning me down and I touch his hair and he holds me in his arms.

When we were done with our make out session I talk to him on what happened just now.

“I thought you wanted me to stop teasing you?” I ask Peter.

“I know you’re stressed about this test, I just wanted you to be relaxed about the whole thing.” He looks at me and smiles.

“Can we do that again if I’m ever stressed out in the future?” I asked.

“Sure.” He chuckles.

#fanfic #fanfiction #kinkmas #kinkmas 2023 #peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker tasm #tasm peter parker #peter parker icons #peter parker x reader #tasm #the amazing spider man smut #the amazing spider man #andrew garfield smut #andrew garfield #andrew garfield spiderman

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sincericida · 1 year

Note

I need peter parker angst fics I need soul r

Wrenching ones I can cry too cause therapy is too expensive to pay for so I've come to the master to ask for suggestions

You want fics of angst, pain and despair, my darling? Well, I have here suggestions from some of the best writers of the genre right here:

"The Thinks We Never Talk About" by @privateanxieties

It is, where “Peter shows up at the last minute and goes feral” by @mrshipsmcgee

"Hopeful" by @stresslessbaaby

The "Sugar And Vice" fic, by @liz-allyn

"Car Accident": part 1 and part 2 by @blooming-violets

"Only Love Could Hurt Like This" by @stylesparker

"The First Fall Of Snow" by @godlessandwrecked

"Labyrinth" by @corinthianism

"The Way I Loved You" and "Secret Ingredient" by @ficthots

"Honest" by @starsval

"Dancing On My Own": read first "the vision of the reader" and then "the vision of Peter", by @blooming-violets

"Hold my body tight even on my lowest nights; {p.p.}" by @venus616

"In a Corner I Haunt (Right Where You Left Me)" by @reidslovely

The "Heat Of The Moment" fic, by @liz-allyn

"CONNECTING ARTS" by @slytherheign

"Ties that bind" by @liz-allyn

The "Masterlist" of @rancidpancakebatter

The "Devil You Know" fic (read first) and the "Inner Demons" fic, both of @liz-allyn

"Florence" (masterlist) by @periprose

"I Would Wait Up Forever" by @novazhere

"A Moment In Time" by @andy-solo1

"Wander Streets at Night, Fighting Just to Breathe" by @prismatica-the-strange

"A wound like no other" by @privateanxieties

I hope you like my suggestions, and prepare your Kleenexs. 🥲

These are some. In case I forgot some that I don’t know and haven’t read yet - there's definitely, please, put them down here. It’s never too much to spread the word about Tumblr writers. 😚

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asterias-record-shop · 11 months

Note

bingo square: out of their league with tasm!peter using prompt 3.

i know one of the things about peter is he’s unaware of how appealing he is but i have idea stuck in my head

you and peter having been dating for a bit and you’re only familiar with his friends and vice versa like you guys know of each other and have exchanged greetings in passing but have never had the opportunity to get to know you

so when the opportunity does present itself (maybe at a party?) they’re stunned by everything they’ve learned about you and your personality basically a ‘woah our friend is great but your woah’ and he gets somewhat possessive and jealous

i like the idea of sitting on peter’s lap and teasing him until he lets you cockwarm him or the party dies down and barely anyone is there and he fucks you with his friends hearing (or watching 👀) and it ends with you leading him out the door to go home and your both marked up with hickeys and he has your lipstick on him + peter telling his friends that he knows he got lucky and how it’s something they’ll never about

—𓆩[cupid’s arrow]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - TASM! Peter Parker x Fem! Rich! Cheerleader! Girlfriend! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, maybe slight angst?

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 3.2K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - You were surprised when you found out that Peter fucking Parker was single, and you quickly fixed that. It was a surprise to everyone, especially him, when they found out you were interested in him - the head cheerleader and a physics nerd? Even then though, when a party occurs and his friends get to know more about you and think you’re so fucking cool — a wasted Peter gets jealous of how much they have your attention.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - cursing & foul language || definitely mixed up multiverses with friends, and added more || reader is reader wears makeup and revealing clothing || the nerd and the cheerleader trope has my heart || reader calls father ‘daddy’ nonsexually || party || shotgunning || reader smokes || drugs and alcohol || Peter really gets into this party mood because you’re having so much fun, therefore he gets wasted because he drinks and smokes || public groping & grinding || cock warming in public || slight voyeurism and exhibitionism? || marking kink || creampie || riding || multiple orgasms || multiple positions ||

“I think… we should go eat here for lunch,” you suggest, looking up at him as he stares down at you, the glasses on his face falling down his nose making you giggle, pushing them up. “Sounds good, right? I know high-end isn’t really your scene, but daddy’s friend just opened it up and the sushi looks like it’s to die for.”

“I-I uhm… I think that sounds good, I just got paid so-” he paused when you started giggling, looking down at you confused. “What’s wrong?”

“You don’t have to pay, sweetie. I don’t even have to pay, daddy has a tab there and we can get whatever we want. Besides, I have no practice today, so we have time!”

He smiled, but sighs. “When do I get to treat you, hm? It’s… it’s not fair. We always go to your house, your spots… I don’t get to do anything for you.”

You sit up, your shirt riding up your tummy and your skirt exposing your thighs. “What do you mean? Am… am I doing something wrong? I-I know I have problems with taking over things, am I doing that? I’m sorry-”

He shakes his head, quickly cupping your face. “No honey, of course not… it’s just, I don’t think it’s fair. I never get to spoil you… or bring you to my apartment or buy you lunch… Does that make you annoyed? Do I do enough for you?”

You stare at him, jaw slack before you start to laugh. “Peter! Are you insane?! I love you, I don’t care how much you spend on me, I like spending on you. I love going to your apartment, I love Aunt May, but I just like taking you to my house because we have more privacy. I like you living with me, don’t you want to move in with me? I’ve been meaning to ask you that…”

Peter pauses, staring at you. “You want me to move in with you?”

You giggle. “Well yeah… we’ve known each other for years, been dating for two… it’s not that weird, is it?”

He shook his head. “N-No, but… if I move in with you, I need to help with your bills and stuff. I’m not going to let you pay for everything.”

You laugh. “Peter, why would I let you pay for something I don’t even pay for? You… just have to stay with me,” you slowly move to sit in his lap, pushing back his hair as you giggled. “And love me. Besides, you would be the best boyfriend ever if you moved in with me.”

He hummed, nodding as he pulled you closer. “I will, honey, I will. I’ll do anything you want me to.”

You giggle, tugging on his hair. You had him wrapped around your finger, and you loved it just as much as you loved him. You pulled him closer, about to press a kiss to his lips before someone yelled his name. “Peter? Peter, oh my god, hey!”

You pulled away, smiling when you saw Gwen. “Oh, it’s Gwen. You should talk to her, invite your friends out to lunch with us!”

Peter almost groaned when he saw Gwen, Ned, MJ, and Harry walking toward them. He loved them, he did, but fuck could they leave? He was about to be kissed by you until he couldn’t breathe and your lipstick stained his lips, could they go? “Oh, hey guys!”

“Peter, we haven’t seen you in a while! Hey Y/N!” Gwen looks at you as you pull your legs under your butt, smiling at her.

“Hey Gwen! How are you guys, have y’all eaten lunch? Peter and I were just about to go.”

“Oh no, we just came from lunch, but thank you! How are y’all?” She sits down, the rest following as you shrug.

“We’re good! Peter and I were just talking about how he’s going to move in with me soon” you answer, humming. “I’m thinking next Friday. Oh, and we can have a party too! You guys should come, it’s going to be a… Peter's welcome party!”

MJ hummed. “You like to party, don’t you?”

“Oh who doesn't!” You giggled, humming. “It’ll be great! Besides, my parties are always the best, you guys should really come!”

Peter smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I know it’s been a while since we’ve all gone to a party together… what do y’all think?”

Gwen hums, looking back at everyone as they nod. “Okay! We’ll come.”

You smiled, looking back at Peter. “Perfect.”

It didn’t take Peter long to move in. Aunt May was happy he was getting out of the house, and you were even more happy to have him living with you. He was sleeping in your now shared bed every night, sometimes with his cock shoved deep inside of your cunt and twisting up your guts from how big he was.

Tonight though was Peter Parker’s Welcome Home party. He was home, finally he was home with you, where you have wanted him since you both started dating. Your now shared house was filled with sweaty teens, drunk or high off their asses as you sat with Peter and his friends in the living room, giggling along with Gwen as you held a joint between your fingers.

“You’re lying!” MJ was cackling as she clutched her book, staring at Peter. “Peter fucking Parker chased you down to ask for your number?”

“Yes!” You giggle, covering your mouth to hide your smile as Peter pressed his face into the back of your neck, slurring words into your skin before leaning into your hand and taking a long drag from the joint. “I told him he was hot at the subway station, then of course I had to catch my subway, and then he chased me all the way into the car and had to take a whole other subway to get back to where he wanted to go!”

Gwen laughs as Peter exhaled the smoke against your skin, your body hot even though so much skin was exposed in the skimpy dress you wore that barely went past down your ass and cut low on your chest, and even had a triangle piece of fabric missing from the bottom of your braless tits and lace black underwear. His hands ran along your bare skin as you giggled, leaning into his form as he started pressing lazy, open mouthed kisses to your neck.

“Peter! Why didn’t you introduce us to Y/N earlier, she’s amazing!” Ned laughed as you inhaled deeply with the joint in your mouth, mind going hazy before Peter pulled you back to kiss him.

You exhaled into his mouth, smoke flooding out from where your mouths weren’t connected and his hands groped at your tits. You groaned, humming as he took the joint from your fingers adorned with long acrylics and the base pressed to the thin satin that covered your tits.

“And that’s our cue to leave,” Gwen voiced out, everyone agreeing as you pulled Peter closer.

You groaned against his lips as you tried to turn around, desperate for more of his kisses before he pulled away, his mouth smeared with your lipstick. It was your signature color, one you wore everyday, and it looked fucking amazing on him.

You looked down at the joint in his hand, the fact the two of you were almost done with it saying something. “Want some more, spider boy?” You whisper, grabbing his wrist and taking a long inhale before blowing it into his face and licking his fingers. You hummed loudly, sucking his middle finger into your mouth like a lollipop as you take the joint in your other hand, pulling his finger down your throat before pulling away and moving to his pointer, sucking on the tip before forcing yourself to gag on it, pulling away to see the thick string of saliva. “The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can have some more fun.”

This specific joint was the one you were saving. It wasn’t Peter’s first time, mainly because it didn’t affect him, but this one did because it was of higher quality and had certain things you had disclosed to him before. You told him it was called ‘Cupid’s Arrow’, a stupid name but one that suited the joint filled with aphrodisiacs and a cherry flavored strain and he agreed immediately because of how excited you were.

You didn’t smoke very often, only on special occasions, and today was one of them.

It didn’t take long for you both to finish the joint, Peter slipping the remainder into a drink next to him as your lips continued their assault on his own, tongue pushing into his mouth and lipstick smearing all over his lips. He whined as you pulled away, humming as you tilted your head back and his mouth pressed against your neck before you gasped.

“Peter! I love this song, come on!” You tugged him off the comfort of the couch, a smile on his stained lips even though his boner was on show before you tugged him in front of you to firmly press against your body. “Dance with me, Peter.”

You’re both pushed together even closer from the rest of the sweaty bodies around you, but they knew better than to get close to you and Peter. He turned you around, his hands holding your hips as he bent his knees to press his cock between your thighs, his erection poking into your soaked panties as your hands pushed behind your head to hold his and pull him even closer.

It doesn’t take long for the drugs to actually kick in, mixing with the alcohol, your body finally cooling down as you rocked your hips back into Peter’s. He groaned loudly into your ear, hands shaking as they pushed underneath the fabric that barely covered your chest, groping and letting his fingertips swipe over your hard nipples.

You groaned loudly as you tilted your head back, your body starting to grow hot as you rocked into him with urgency, the feeling of his large, blunt tip rubbing against your pussy too much to handle. You whined loudly as he pulled you closer, desperate to feel your body against his as you groaned into his mouth when he pulled you in for a kiss. He pulled away to press firm kisses to your neck, smearing the same lipstick he had on his lips against your skin as you pulled out that same golden, expensive tube and a handheld mirror to reapply it.

His reflection caught your eye, his mouth pressing firmly to your neck and sucking against your skin while groping at your tits from underneath your dress. You tilted your head back as you slip the tube and mirror back into the waistband of your dress, eyes rolling back as his thumbs slid over your hard nipples and his hot mouth sucking against your skin made everything hazy.

Neither of you registered the people around you, your mouth pressing kisses to his cheek before sucking hickies against his jaw, slight saltiness from the thin sheen of sweat on both of your bodies. Both of you were grinding against each other like there was no tomorrow, the tip of his cock rubbing against your clothed sex making your body even hotter.

“Fuck,” you cursed, groaning as he squeezed at your tits before slowly guiding you both back to the couch where you straddled his thighs and were quick to unbutton his pants. You tugged the zipper down as you set your lipstick and mirror down on the table as he easily slipped off your underwear, throwing it to the side as you pushed yourself up so you could guide his cock into you.

This wasn’t the first time the two of you had raw sex, but it was definitely the first time you were both high off your asses. “Wait, wait,” you whisper, balancing yourself by holding his chest. “Is this okay?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, nodding vigorously. “More than okay. So much more than okay.”

You giggled as you leaned forward, pressing your lips against his as he slowly pushed his cock between your legs, letting his blunt tip slide up and down your slit before finally pushing up into you. Your head falls back, groans echoing around the room as he bucked his hips.

You felt wetter than you’ve ever been, your cunt squelching as he slowly pushed into you, his face pressed against your neck as he groaned loudly. He gasped as you slowly began to sink down on him, your pretty face scrunched in all the right ways and tears pricking your eyes made him groan loudly, his hips bucking into you.

He didn’t even know that he came until you felt something inside of you, that same sticky feeling flooding down your thighs as you groaned, attempting to push lower on his cock as he grunted. “Did you just cum?”

He pauses, looking down. “I-I think so…”

“But you’re still hard?” You whispered, ducking down to kiss his neck and continue sucking on his skin. “Guess that Cupid’s Arrow really did something, huh baby?”

He hummed, nodding. “I swear, you feel so much fucking better than I could ever imagine. I don’t know if it’s the drugs or if it’s you, but I swear I can fucking feel everything.”

You giggled. “You’re sure it’s not your spidey senses?”

He groaned, shaking his head as he held your hips and angled his own to thrust up into you with a loud groan. “N-No, my… my spidey-sex-drive is up or something… I feel everything, your pussy clenching and all of your slick dripping down my cock… I swear I can feel you stretch out with every thrust. Please, please I need to fuck you so bad.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” You whisper, one of his hands pushing up the chest area of your dress and letting your tits fall out. He pauses his thrusting, making you whine, grabbing a folded blanket to throw it over your shoulders.

“I need more. Fucking hell, I need to feel as much as I can of you, but this body is only mine to see. You’re mine.”

You groaned into his ear, gasping as you held the back of his head, rocking your hips into his to match every thrust. You could barely think about anything else but his cock ramming into you, the almost infinite feeling of riding your orgasm making your mind blurry. Have you cum yet? Peter always knew when you came, he would feel a lightning bolt down his spine and would giggle softly, but with the amount he was shaking in pleasure you didn’t know.

You could feel his cock being easily let into your deepest parts, the aphrodisiacs must’ve had something to do with loosening you up and making arousal spew from you like a fountain. Or maybe it was cum? Who knew at this point, you couldn’t think of anything else but Peter who was covered in your lipstick and hickies, his cock buried inside of you, balls deep and his cum leaking out of your pussy before he pounded it straight back in.

He groaned into your neck, gasping as another shock ran down his back, his hands slamming you down on his cock as you panted into his ear. “F-Fuck, Y/N, I can’t stop… I can’t stop my hips, I can’t stop fucking you.”

You shake your head against his neck, whimpering. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Your body was hot, the only relief was his cock inside of you and you didn’t want it to stop anytime soon. You didn’t care that you both were fucking mid-party, it was your house, your couch, your boyfriend. If anyone had a problem with it, they could leave.

You gasped as he grabbed your hips, flipping the two of you over so you were on your back, his hands sliding a pillow under your hips to support you before going straight back to your tits. You groaned as you pushed your hands under his shirt, the blanket covering both of your bodies as his mouth stayed on yours, barely pulling away to even breathe.

Peter couldn’t help it, whatever the hell was in that joint made him infatuated. His hips thrusted as hard as he could, desperate to be inside of you as much as he could while you rocked your hips to match his thrusts, desperate to reach a climax in your high. You had cum at least three times from what Peter could actually process, but like him, the permanent high of ecstasy wasn’t enough when the both of you needed to hit that climax.

Your moans filled his ears as the couch started to creak, his mouth hot on your neck and collarbone to mark you up as though someone would try to take you. He couldn’t stop leaving all those hickies all over your body, how could he when everyone needed to know you belonged to him? Besides, after this and everyone seeing him fuck you until you saw stars, everyone would definitely know he was your boyfriend, soon to be fiancée as soon as he found the perfect ring for you.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your thrusts meeting his as his cock slammed into you, wet slaps and squelches filling the room that could’ve been full of spectators — not that either of you cared.

You didn’t know when he stopped, panting above you as you hold his head and rake your fingers through his hair, admiring the mess of hickies and lipstick marks that you left. You pulled him down for another firm kiss, humming as you pulled away and he followed your lips. “We should get a dog.”

He laughed, titling his head to the side to press kisses to your neck, seeing all of his friends in the corner gaping at you both. “Whatever you want, honey.”

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