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literaila · 1 year

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coming home

summary:

“why are you still awake?”

“why are you so late?”

warnings: fluff, mild teasing, angst (if you read between the lines), fluff

a/n: i take no responsbility for the typos because it is five in the morning

gif credit: @peterparkcr

your eyes stay closed even when a cold hand wraps around your waist, gentle and buckling.

your breath is smooth, not stifled by the sudden presence behind you.

your legs curl, wrapping with others, toes scratching at a very familiar calf.

still, you attempt not to move, and absolutely not flinch at peter's fingertips--just barely--brushing against the skin where your shirt has ridden up.

his shirt, you guess.

and then there are lips on your ear, a chuckling breath climbing down your skin. "and why are you still awake?"

peter's voice is a bit rough. his nose is a bit cold as it trails down your neck.

he's breathing in your ear, and you hadn't even heard him come through the door.

"why are you so late?" you return, tilting your head, not really minding his stroking of your.

peter hums and goosebumps follow. he moves and you go with him. "subway malfunction."

"peter," you chide, snorting.

"i'm being serious. i had to pry the doors open and gently console the terrified passengers."

"anyone faint?"

you feel peter lean up, his finger poking at your stomach. "that's not funny."

"it wasn't a joke. i've seen the videos, you know. you're a celebrity."

he sighs from behind you, and you push back into him, warming him up with your body heat and secretly pleading with him not to go. peter follows along, laying down again so he can kiss at your shoulder.

"i'm sorry i'm late," he whispers, mostly insincere, to you.

"i'm sorry i'm not asleep," you return, nuzzling the back of your head into his.

peter is made of muscle, undeniably strong, but he's so soft when it's late, when the two of you can just lay there and look out the window and pretend that neither of you are tired.

maybe it's his voice, or maybe it's the eyelashes you can feel on your cheek. or the smile you can taste in the air.

peter grumbles something, a question in his throat.

"well, 'cause, i know how much you like to scare me when you get home."

peter scoffs. "not true."

"really?" you say, a bit of a smile in your voice, on your face, "because yesterday you were laughing when i tried to push you away cause i thought you were a ghost or something."

"a ghost? that's your first assumption?"

"or a demon. i'm not particularly familiar with supernatural beings or of their fondnesses for cuddling."

"i'll get you a book," peter says, kissing up your jaw, mostly laughing at you.

you groan, but tilt your head so he can continue.

"and for the record," peter whispers, "i was laughing at your poor self-defense skills."

you lift a hand to push his shoulder back.

peter grabs your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. "i'm just saying. you didn't scream or bite or anything."

"i can bite you now if you'd like."

peter takes a deep breath in, stifling a cough or a laugh. "not now," he answers, "i'm too tired to bite back."

"i think you mean to say that you're too baby for bite marks."

"we can test that out sometime."

and then you turn your head, move the rest of your body to go with, and smile at peter as he accommodates you, now leaning almost directly over you.

you're on your back, hair in your face, blankets strewn haphazardly over your legs.

"hi," you say to him, barely just catching his teeth in the dark.

"hello," he whispers, leaning a bit closer. "tell me about your day."

"peter."

"i want to hear it all..." his hand is dragging over your stomach, playing with the hem of your shirt. his lips are a mere millimeter away from yours. "when you woke up, what you had for breakfast, what time you laid down without me..."

you breathe out, sharing a bitter laugh with the world, and try to tilt your head up.

but peter moves back, and you watch his brows furrow in the dark. "hey, i'm serious, bub."

you frown back. "don't be mean."

peter snorts. "i'm literally trying to get you to share about your day. most people would consider that a nice thing to do."

"you know what i mean," you answer, trying to lean up again.

but peter is too far away. he's trailing his fingers up the skin of your neck, brushing the hair from your cheek, playing with the curve of your jaw.

"i don't think i do," peter answers, not looking at you, really, but staring so intently at something. "you should explain it to me," he whispers.

"you should kiss me," you whisper back.

peter's jaw drops and his eyes meet yours. "are you trying to shut me up?" he asks, mock offended.

"i'm trying to kiss you."

"i'm trying to have a conversation," peter claims.

"you're interrupting important business."

peter raises a brow. his eyes are flickering from yours to your lips, and even though you know he's teasing you, it just makes you want to tackle him more.

"important business? more important than healthy communication, and connection, and appreciation--"

"peter, i might fall asleep before you get the chance to do any of that."

he laughs and leans down so that he can kiss your neck again. so that he can tease you with more than words now.

you can still feel your lips tingling from his breath against them. from the movement of him so close to you, so close...

"are you tired?" he asks.

"tired of you."

you feel him roll his eyes but say nothing, nibbling at a spot on your neck that you weren't even sure existed a moment ago.

"are you tired?" you ask, being very careful with how you breathe in and out.

"i missed you," peter answers instead, "it's been a long day."

"you should kiss me then," you smile, tilting his head back towards you. "that'll help."

peter laughs. and then he leans up again, hair in your eyes, eyes right next to yours.

"yeah?" he asks.

"i promise."

peter is just staring at your mouth. "i'm not sure how much your promises are worth,"

"five bucks."

"fifteen."

"none, but i'll let you be the little spoon."

peter laughs, but he shakes his head, tickling you with his movement. "no deal."

"peter," you whine. "c'mon."

"you just want me for my kissing skills."

"yes," you answer, almost irritated. "because i dream of your slobber all over me at every moment."

peter pinches your side and you yelp.

you scowl after a moment of staring at him. "will you just kiss me already?"

"they say that anticipation is the best aphro--"

"this is a goodnight kiss, just to clarify."

peter pouts. "but we haven't seen each other all day. i have more stories to tell you."

"you'll have the stories tomorrow."

"not if yellowstone finally erupts."

"peter, it's too late for possible doomsday situations. and also we'd be fine if that happened because you would feel it and then swing us up to the moon or something."

peter considers this for a moment. "true. anything for my baby."

"except a kiss, apparently."

peter chuckles.

and really, even his laughter this late is a tiny little blessing, a crumbled-up 'forgive me' note, making you love him even more than you thought possible.

"you really want me to kiss you?"

"haven't i made that obvious?"

"well, you did compare me to a dog a minute ago..."

and then you move your hands up his back, scratching at his scalp and grasping at soft strands of his hair. "i could not be more serious," you say to him, a soft crinkle in your eyes as you say it.

peter almost copies your movements, one of his hands going to the spot right by your jaw, fingertips resting behind your ear, effectively fating you to look at him forever.

which you wouldn't complain about, honestly.

and he's smiling, so it's even harder to look at him. "i think you could try a little bit harder," he teases.

"peter," you say, sternly, just one more time.

and then, curling his hand around your head, he finally kisses you. and you barely even notice when your body lifts, unconsciously meeting his.

but you can feel him smiling against you.

(also i just realized that i didn’t even add in the news guy which was an essential point to the plot when i thought of it (so sometime when i’m less sleep deprived someone remind me of that and i’ll fix it))

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom @spideysimpossiblegirl invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @sharkswaters

#peter parker #tasm peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter fluff #tasm #tasm!peter x you #Andrew!Spiderman #andrew peter parker #andrew garfield #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #andrew!spiderman imagine #tasm!peter smut #tasm!fluff #tasm!peter x reader #the amazing spider-man #The Amazing Spider Man #the amazing spider man imagine #the amazing spider-man x reader

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tomriddleslovergirl · 9 months

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Tasm!Peter Parker x Reader Headcanons

His love languages are acts of service and physical touch.

Doing kind things for people just comes naturally to him. He’ll let you copy off his homework answers if you got sick/or something serious happened, and he’ll help you study. He helps you pack up your things if you need to go somewhere.

Peter loves to touch you. He gives you quick pecks on your lips or on your cheeks if he’s in a hurry to get somewhere. In the mornings he likes to wrap his arms around your waist and hide his neck in the crook of your neck.

You're his lockscreen.

He teaches you how to ride his skateboard if you don’t already know. His hands on your waist, telling you that he won’t let go if you’re scared that you’re going to fall. He might pretend to let go at some point to prank you.

Lowkey stalkerish, but I think he’d watch you while he was patrolling the city as Spider-Man. Maybe when he’s swinging by and he sees you, he’ll stop and just look at you. If you guys got into a fight he’d be more likely to do this as well. Just looking at you from afar, missing you.

He loves to tease you. He’s just so cheeky. You could tell him that you missed him and he’ll smirks and say something like “You missed me?”

Peter knows that at some point he’s going to have to tell you that he’s Spider-Man. He’s out till it’s late and he’s covered in bruises at times. You’re bound to ask questions. He’d probably tell you himself when you both have been dating for a while.

He doesn’t want you anywhere near him when he’s doing his job as Spider-Man. He’s scared that you’ll get hurt or worse.

If he’s patrolling the city during the day, he’ll call you every now and then to check up on you. During the night, he’d prefer not to bother you, but if he’s missing you, he’ll send you a voicemail. Though, he would prefer just seeing you in person. He’d sneak into your bedroom through your window.

There aren’t many secrets in your relationship after he’s told you that he’s Spider-Man. One of the only times I can see him keeping a secret from you or lying to you, is if he thinks it’ll protect you/you’re safer not knowing.

#peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #the amazing spider-man x reader #Spider-Man x reader #marvel x reader #marvel characters x reader #mcu x reader

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murdock-potter · 2 years

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After the Snow

Summary: none of the hospital staff knew who he was, or why he visited you every single day

Paring: Peter Parker x reader

Warnings: coma, car accident, hit and run, drunk driver

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I love Peter so much :,)

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

The staff all had a bet about who he was.

The nurses thought he was a boyfriend. The kitchen staff talk about the fact that he had to be just a friend. The doctors could’ve sworn that he was a brother. And then there were the security guards, who wanted to throw him out everyday because they thought he was just a creep.

They knew two things about the man. One of them was that his name was Peter Parker, because he had to sign in at the lobby. And the other was that he visited you every single day. Day in and day out. Rain or shine. Snow or sleet. He would be there for exactly two hours every day.

On some days, he would just sit in the chair beside your bed in silence. Other days, the staff could have sworn they could see his lips moving a little bit. As if he were talking to you. In times like that, he would occasionally have a book on him, and the nurses would swoon over the thought of him reading to you.

Peter released a sigh, stepping through the sliding doors and allowing the smell of the hospital to hit him in full blast. At first, he had hated the smell so much, he still did, but eventually over time, he just became immune to it.

“Morning, Peter.” The receptionist called with a smile, the only thing anyone ever said to him in that place. The only thing they could say.

“Morning, Dorcas.” The man gave back his usual answer, the only thing he could say.

After quickly placing his signature on the clipboard, he shoved his hands in his coat pockets and allowed his hair to fall over his face as he tilted his head down and began the journey that he could take in his sleep.

Down the hall and to the elevator. Press the button to the third floor. Take a left. Then right. Then it’s the third door on his right.

Five months ago, Peter had been finishing up his nightly patrol around the city, already dreaming of crawling into bed and not waking up until dinner time the next day, when something caught the webslingers attention.

You had been closing up the coffee shop you worked on, being the only person on the night shift, with dark bags circling under your eyes and you had set off on your walk back home. It was only a couple blocks, and you never had any problems with it before, so you weren’t worried.

As soon as he laid eyes on you, he was absolutely hypnotized. You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, tired state and all.

Some part of him felt like he was supposed to be gravitating towards you, as if he were the earth and you were the sun, and just staying still up on that roof was defying the laws of nature. And it did not feel good.

He supposed that was why he found himself jumping for rooftop to rooftop, following you. Not in a creepy way, or course, but just to make sure you got home safe. Although he didn’t know you, he felt like he owed you that much.

You had walked two blocks before you had to cross the street, and even though it was so late at night that there were no cars anywhere, you still checked both ways before crossing.

Everything was going fine, and Peter was debating how to get to the other side of the road without you seeing, but then it happened.

Out of nowhere, a car came zooming into view, swerving from lane to lane slightly in a way that both you and Peter immediately knew that it was a drunk driver.

There was a whole two seconds before you were hit. A whole two seconds that Peter had been saving you. But instead, he froze up.

He. Froze. Up.

And it nearly cost you your life.

Even if he didn’t have his hearing heightened, he somehow knew he would still have heard the sound of bones breaking. Come to find out later that it was your ribs.

The driver didn’t once slow their speed as they continued on down the road as if nothing had happened.

Peter had been the one to call the ambulance. He had been the one to make sure you got to the hospital okay. He had been the only one in five months to show up and visit you while you fell into a coma.

Not once did any of your emergency contacts show up when you were identified. It seemed to be like he was the only person you had.

With a long sigh, Peter shrugged off his coat and hung it on the back of the chair, plopping down into it for what felt like the thousandth time.

For a little while, he sat in silence.

If what people said about those in comas being able to hear everything around them was true, then you must be beyond freaked out that some random guy had told you his entire life story in the span of months and probably sounds desperately in love with you.

But Peter didn’t believe in any of that. He didn’t think that they could actually hear anything going on around them.

“Hi.” He finally started softly, barely moving his lips as he spoke, “It started to snow today… It reminded me of you.” He paused, “I don’t know why it did, but it just did, I guess. Maybe you like it, maybe you don’t… will I ever know?” The question came out of nowhere, whispered and lost in the air as soon as it was said.

“You already know all about me,” He continued, “My favorite color, about my uncle, what I do for this city, all of it.” He harshly wiped away at his eyes when he felt tears begin to well up in them, “When will I ever know about you?”

It wasn’t uncommon for him to tear up a little bit around you. From either the sadness that came with seeing you like that, or the guilt of it. But he never let a single tear escape. He refused to.

The rhetorical question seemed to hang in the air between you two for a couple minutes before getting bored and wisping itself away and out the door.

The rest of the visit was spent in silence.

✰✰✰

The next day, Peter trudged through the doors yet again, shaking out some snow from his hair and stalking over to the receptionist table, expecting the same cheerful welcome that he got everyday.

“Peter!” It certainly was cheerful, but more so than usual.

He looked up, eyes wide and questioning as Dorcas looked at him with a large grin.

“She’s woken up!” The woman blabbered excitedly, “And she’s been asking for you all morning!”

His eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t say anything as he quickly signed in and took great striding steps to the elevator, faster than usual.

As he impatiently tapped his foot while waiting for it to arrive, his mind wandered back to what the lady said. You had been asking for him. Meaning all that nonsense that he didn’t believe about coma patients hearing the outside world, was real. You knew everything.

Your hallway was bustling with more activity than usual when he entered, and he had to zig zag his way through the crowd in order to get to your door.

You were sitting upright- physically sitting- on your bed surrounded by doctors and nurses who were all talking over one another, almost none of them actually paying attention to you.

And then your eyes locked.

You were even more stunning than he remembered. Even when you were in a coma, you were still jaw droppingly beautiful, but now… you were devastatingly enchanting.

“Peter?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper, scratchy from not using it, but of course he still heard you.

He swallowed thickly before nodding.

Then a wave of emotions flooded through your eyes, each giving him a different message. Thank you. Hello. So, we finally meet.”

Your secret’s safe with me.

His heart caught in his throat, and though you didn’t actually say anything, he could tell that you knew. Remembered him talking about everything- the quiet whispers about being Spider-Man.

You were finally awake. You were finally awake and you were thankful for him saving your life, and you were willing to not tell a soul about his secret.

A single tear slipped down his cheek as he took a step closer to your bed.

#tasm!peter imagine #peter parker #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #tasm x reader #Tasm #the amazing Spider-Man x reader #peter parker imagine #Peter Parker fic #andrew garfield

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 8 months

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Babbling ~ P.P.

A/n: Sorry for missing Monday, but here’s this <3 Another request done :)

Request: “Tasm!Peter x male reader where reader gets invited to a party and brings Peter as his plus one or whatever and Peter getting drunk and touchy and confesses and saying how he wants to be with him and spend the rest of his life with him...” by anon

Word count: 2700+

MASTERLIST

Peter Parker and Y/n had always been a story for the ages.

It hadn't been life long friends, and their meeting hadn't been all that important. They'd had a class together and as both of them engaged with the content and asked questions and did reports and read out loud, their faces became familiar with each other. Then Spider-Man had gotten caught up in a fight and his mask had come off. Y/n had been stunned to see the big brown doe eyes of the cute guy in his AP bio class.

It had been the most anti-climactic thing, truly. Y/n had discovered a sight dedicated to "fangirling over Spider-Man" except that they didn't do much discussion or giving of content. However, when Y/n went through the internet looking for pictures with Spider-Man's face, there was a startling very few available. For how many hungry reporters and shocked civilian or eager tourist was here and with how often Spider-Man lost or destroyed or just straight up took off his mask, there should be more.

When he found that there were images, they were just unavailable, he deep dove it and used his skill witch coding to figure out what happened. And what he uncovered was stunning - the website "dedicated to fangirling over Spiderman" was either a cover, or they believed that the best fans were dedicated to keeping Spider-Man's secret identity a secret. Peter Parker was New York's little secret.

It made Y/n so curious to meet the man. So of course they had to.

Asking for notes or a pencil or complimenting a sweater or giggling at his jokes that he said under his breath turned into lunches together for convenience and then studying together and then suddenly they were friends. Exchanging phone numbers and inside jokes and nicknames.

It was obvious that he was Spider-Man if you knew what you were looking for. His poor excuses and his sudden exists and late entries. Cancelled plans right when Spider-Man was needed, and all for a job that didn't even pay that well.

Peter was fairly good at hiding it. He was a disaster - a mistake waiting to happen - but he had a whole city behind him so it was okay.

It made Y/n fall in love with Spider-Man even more.

And maybe Peter Parker too.

There was something about the boy though. Something darker that he shook off when he had the mask. Something heavy that was easy to miss when you couldn't see his facial expressions. There was a distance when Y/n would jokingly flirt or be physically affectionate. He offered to take Peter to meet his folks once and Peter had seemed... to not like that. He had squirmed and wriggled, desperate to get away. When he came up with an "emergency" and Spider-Man stopped a mugger and got a kite out of tree Y/n knew that he shouldn't bring it up again.

It was obvious that Peter had lost someone, so Y/n tucked away any realizations or feelings and let them stay casual friends. Not best friends, not truly close - always at an arm's length. But friends.

Until, of course, Peter got drunk.

Peter never wanted to go anywhere or do anything. Y/n was pretty sure he was depressed. Which had driven him to try and get Peter out more, to find him hobbies and past times. Peter had come to the parties and gatherings and slam poetries and walks and clubs Y/n had dragged him to, just like tonight, with the understanding that if he needed to leave he could at any moment.

It didn't seem that moment would come tonight.

At some point Peter had put down his phone and walked away after having a few drinks, getting looser and more relaxed. He never went far from Y/n but seemed to have a hard time sitting still or staying in the same place. They paced or walked in circles and that seemed to do the trick. Y/n had noticed the other man put down his phone after checking the time and walked away again, so Y/n had snagged it for safe keeping. He would give it back tomorrow morning.

It took a lot or drinks for Peter to get proper wasted, but it happened. It seemed to be absent minded and on accident. He kept talking and walking, keeping his voice above the music in the room, and Y/n found himself trailing after in a love sick haze. Peter was gorgeous on his own, but the way his face light up and his hair got messier and messier... he was breathtaking when he went on rants, and Y/n was more than pleased to listen.

So he didn't stop Peter from drinking. And to be fair, neither did Peter.

Y/n knew they'd both made a mistake when Peter stopped walking, leaning against a table behind him and sighing. Y/n came closer to check on him and Peter reached out, fingers wrapping around Y/n's waist and face pressing into his shoulder. Y/n's body blossomed with heat and something akin to a buzzing, making him tense but giddy.

He tried to ignore that.

Peter sighed, leaning against Y/n, and the more sober of them gave a little chuckle. "You okay, Pete?"

"You're so comfy," was all Peter had to say. His voice was soft and airy, almost sleepy. But he had no problem mostly keeping himself up, nor did he seem to sway or buckle. He was just... drawn to Y/n. Like a magnet.

Y/n blushed. "Thank you."

Peter stared, for a long time, not saying anything. Y/n got nervous, shifting. The look was full of adoration and warmth. Admiration simmered at the edges, a sappy smile smearing across his face. "Did I ever mention that you look really attractive when you get all..." he tilted his head, searching for a word. "Blushy." He giggled. "Shy? No. Not just shy, but reserved too. Nervous." His face flitted briefly into a scowl, but when he went from trying yo grasp the word in his mind to admiring Y/n again, the smile came back. "I'm glad we met."

Y/n couldn't get the courage to look at him. "So am I." He cleared his throat, melting under that gaze. Under those words. "Perhaps we should get home."

Peter nodded. "I don't want to be here anymore. Let's go somewhere - just us." He took Y/n's hands, taking longer to do so as he traced Y/n's fingers and sighed blissfully at the contact. Like he was relieved after so long wanting it. Like how Y/n did when he felt the touch.

"Yeah. If that's what you really want." Y/n closed his eyes, chastising himself and forcing himself to stay focused. "Tomorrow. Tonight you need sleep." He began walking, keeping an eye on if Peter needed help walking, but he didn't. Not surprising for the same Spider-Man that could balance on a string that seemed thin as hair, or cling to any surface.

Peter whined and Y/n had to hide a smile with his free hand. "Not tomorrow," he begged, tugging on Y/n's hand. It was almost like a child begging for candy in the store, but less dramatic and much mote desperate. The thought of leaving Y/n seemed to genuinely upset him... Y/n didn't know how to feel about that. "I'll go to bed if you spend the night."

Now that was dangerous.

Y/n only hummed in thought, actually considered it. Drunk people were hard to handle and even if he didn't, he would need to lie to Peter to get him home. If the superhero genuinely didn't want to go or decided that messing around with Y/n to prolong their time together it would he near impossible to get ahold of him again...

They got all the way to Peter's door before he spoke again. "Are you staying?"

Y/n gave him a sideways look as he pushed the door open, having snagged Peter's keys from his pocket. He'd thought he's gotten away with it after such a long silence, but it seemed Peter was eternally patient even drunk. He sighed as they moved into the apartment, Peter always snatching Y/n's hand the second they were free. "Why does it matter so much to you that I stay, hm?" He pulled himself away from the drunk man again, closing the door and putting the keys away. Pulling Peter's jacket off and removing his shoes and grabbing a glass of water and Ibuprofen for tomorrow morning, setting it on the table at Peter's bed. It was only when he seemed finished, about to head out again, that Peter caught him.

Holding one of Y/n's hands in each of his, looking deep into his eyes, Peter didn't just seem genuine, he seemed raw. Exposed. "Y/n. I've been punishing myself for so long... always alone. For so long." He closed his eyes, pressing their foreheads together. "It's suffocating me, the loneliness. And you make it easier to breathe. So... stay. If you want." He swallowed before adding a breathless, "Please."

Y/n's heart was ramming in his chest. "If you need a friend tonight, I can of course stay." He added friend on purpose this time - to remind himself.

That seemed to upset Peter though. "Don't call yourself that. Please, please don't-" he closed his eyes tightly. "I know we're friends. And I'm goad we're friends. But don't remind me we're friends when I want to kiss you so badly. Please."

Y/n's breath caught. "Pete-" He stopped himself. "You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

Peter chuckled, shaking his head. "Drunk words are sober thoughts. That's a popular saying for a reason."

Oh god.

"You- I-" Y/n's face was burning and he was running out of reasons to go. Ways to deny it. Peter was Spider-Man. There's so much Y/n still wasn't supposed to know. They'd been friends for a while now, and they were just getting close. There was still that gap though. That space that Peter kept.

Now he was throwing all of it away.

Peter didn't wait for Y/n to form thoughts. He let go of Y/n's hands, reaching up for his face instead. Peter's face trailed Y/n's jaw. "Can I kiss you? I... I've wanted to kiss you for so long. If you felt the same way. The way your heart is racing, I thought you might."

Y/n's eyes widen. Of course he can hear heartbeats. The world wouldn't be as unfair as it was if he couldn't.

But also, how could be lie now? When Peter knew he was? And maybe it was selfish, and he'd get his heart broken in the morning, but Peter was begging and god if Y/n wasn't just as eager.

"Okay."

There was no hesitation after that. Y/n had expected raging fire, or fireworks, but there was none of that. It was relief, cool to the touch like a breeze on a sweltering day, or a breath after drowning. It was laying in bed after a long, exhausting day or drinking something warm and sitting by the fire after a day of ice and snow.

Y/n did more than just stay over. It happened so fast, each kiss getting more and more desperate until their hands were wandering and they were falling back onto the bed and Peter didn't stutter a single second. He didn't stumble or hesitate. He had seemed to drink so much but all his words came easily, any slur he'd had before completely gone. He seemed sober.

Y/n was an idiot.

He tried to leave, but Peter had gripped onto his arm and begged him to stay. So Y/n woke up next to him in the morning, slipping out of bed and wandering into the living room.

Okay so that had just happened.

He felt like a villain. He felt like a moron. Peter had been drunk. FUCK he was a horrible person.

Out of part guilt and part anxiety, Y/n tidied the living room and kitchen before beginning to make breakfast. He couldn't in good will just leave Peter alone that morning, but he also couldn't stay in that bed. See Peter panic when he woke up and realized what had happened.

Would he panic? Would he be angry?

He would be justified to feel angry.

Y/n jumped when a set of arms wrapped around his waist from behind, a face burying into his shoulder. "Smells good," came Peter's muffled voice.

Y/n wordlessly finished the food, plating it and turning off the stove before turning to Peter. The brunette seemed weirdly unphased, taking each thing and making two plates, then wandering into the living room to set them down on the clean table, plopping onto the couch. He smiled. "And you clean? I'm spoiled."

Y/n crossed his arms over his chest, a little confused and a little annoyed. "Peter. We need to talk about last night."

The smile faded off of his face and it happened so easily that Y/n was stunned to realize it had been more fake than he'd realized. "I'm sorry."

That came as a shock too. "You're sorry? You? Peter, I'm sorry."

Peter looked up at that, narrowing his eyes in confusion. "I'm the one who was pushing you into-" He looked away. "You obviously regret it, and it was stupid, and I'm sorry I just-"

Y/n scoffed. "Peter, you were drunk. You were more honest than you usually are. That isn't a bad thing. But you were drunk, and I wasn't, and I completely took advantage of you and-"

Peter tilted his head. "I wasn't drunk."

Y/n froze. "What?"

Peter blushed. "Well- I was drunk at first." He looked away, fiddling with a couch pillow. "But by the time we got here I was pretty much sober. I have some what of a healing factor, so-"

Y/n's eyes widened. "You have a what?"

Peter looked back, his expression dripping with amusement. "Y/n, I'm not good at keeping secrets, and you're not good at it either. My mask is hanging up on the hook by the door and you hung up my keys next to it and didn't even blink."

Y/n's head whipped around and - sure enough - there was the mask.

Damnit.

He looked back sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I... just..."

Peter laughed, standing from the couch. "It's okay. I... appreciate it, honestly. Most people demand explanations or details or ask an overwhelming questions. When I realize you knew?" He shook his head. "How long have you known?"

Y/n pursed his lip, shrugging. A... while."

Peter snorted. "Since the beginning then."

Y/n winced. "Not the very beginning."

Peter laughed again, this time closing the distance between them. "I don't know what you were beating yourself up for but I hope you realize that you don't have to. I was drunk, and that made me much more affectionate than I usually am... but, it was the affection itself that drove me insane. It was likeI'd been starving." He shrugged. "I probably was. But kissing you..." He smiled sweetly.

Y/n blushed. It was quiet for a moment before he asked, “So you’re glad last night happened?”

Peter grinned. “Yes. I am.” He shuffled, as if he wanted to ask something but felt too silly to do so.

“I’m glad it happened too,” Y/n eased. Peter melted in relief, his expression blooming with adoration - so close to the way he had looked at Y/n last night. Y/n took his hand, tracing the bones and veins. “Do you… want to be my boyfriend?” He cringed - it felt so silly to ask. Like he was in middle school all over again.

A chuckle came from Peter, but his answer didn’t follow in the form of words. Instead he reached over, catching Y/n’s chin and leaning into a kiss. They sighed blissfully at the same time, and Y/n divided that was answer enough.

Male Readers: @ravenpuff-oli @sortzz @fadedver

#Peter Parker #peter 3 x reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #the amazing spiderman x male reader #the amazing Spider-Man #the amazing Spider-Man imagine #the amazing Spider-Man x reader #Spiderman x reader #Spiderman x male reader #Spiderman imagine #male reader #marvel

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mgparker · 2 years

Text

sidelines

[tasm!peter parker x reader]

request | word count: 4k

based on this request: so the reader has a boyfriend but he’s been kinda of a shitty one to her? like he’s an extreme workaholic who often skips their anniversaries and dates, and just takes her for granted all the time. whereas peter is her best friend who has been pining and harboring feelings for her but kept it all to himself (he knows how her bf has been treating her as well) until one day she breaks down in front of him and he comforts her. it’s very angsty and maybe ends with fluff?

warnings: f!reader, not as angsty as i’d hoped so sorry about that, asshole boyfriend, greys references, pining!peter, request, not much fluff, unedited

Fact— Peter Benjamin Parker was in love with his best friend. Completely and utterly whipped. The kind of love that blossomed over the course of a few years; something he thought he’d grow out of but to his luck, it grew in his heart like uncontrollable weeds in a yard.

And it didn’t help that you would literally choose any other person on this planet but him.

Now, Peter couldn’t control that. Of course not. As much as he dreamed that one day you’d suddenly tell him you were absolutely in love with him and had been for years, he knew it wouldn’t matter if it didn’t come from the heart.

And seeing as it’s been years since Peter realized you were his entire world and you’ve been in other relationships (some of which you’ve solely depended on Peter’s advice of dating them or not—to which he always faked a smile and encouraged), the dream would simply just be that. A dream.

Nothing more.

And yes, it hurt like hell. It felt like a knife was being plunged into his stomach every time he saw you with someone else. Like the world was crumbling beneath his feet when you smiled at the phone because you were texting him… Like there was no chance in hell that he’d ever find a way past the heartbreak whenever he saw you and your boyfriend together.

Because this relationship was a little different than the others…

It took a while for Peter to notice it, which was surprising due to his incredible senses. But when he finally did, God did it kill him.

The fake smiles. The sudden mood changes. The excuses.

It was like your personality was being slowly drained away and it lit a fire in his bones. A rage that threatened to burst whenever he saw your piece of shit boyfriend. Thankfully, Peter had mastered the mask of nonchalance and innocence whenever you brought Nate around but you weren’t stupid. You knew that Peter knew.

And you couldn’t tell if that filled you with relief or shame.

For as long as you’ve known each other, you’ve never been the type to settle. You’ve always known your worth, known how to put your foot down and put it down firmly. Certain in what you wanted—no, needed (but that’s not to say you were afraid to ask for what you desired). You were fair, open to compromise, a fairly good listener, and overall a person who cared...

So you had no idea when your relationship had started tipping the scale, losing its balance until you were stuck with the heaviest side. With all the burden and hard work that should be shared in a healthy relationship.

And though you tried your best to figure it out, to grasp at the confidence and outspokenness you once had, it was damn near impossible.

So you just settled. You just took it one day at a time because you didn’t want to disappoint him. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself even more than you already have, and you know you shouldn’t feel this way. You know that Peter would never judge you in the way you’re scared of but you couldn’t stand pity. And that’s exactly what you’d get if you ran away now.

So, you just settled.

“How’s the new promotion going?”

It’s your two-year anniversary, an occasion you were highly surprised Nate had even remembered. Let alone planned something for it. But here you are—at a high-end restaurant on the waterside of the financial district.

The damn financial district. You had forced a smile when the two of you arrived at the restaurant, trying to hide the fact that you’d already made the decision that you absolutely hated the restaurant. Just because it was in the financial district.

Everything was about the financial district. About finance and his dad’s business and fucking Wall Street.

“Hm?”

Swallowing your mouthful of pasta, you stared at the table with a sense of detachment. This isn’t anything you’re not used to. “Your promotion?” You cleared your throat. “How’s it going?”

Nate finally looked up from his phone, a spark of interest gleaming in his eye. Normally, that little spark would excite you, get you on the edge of your seat as you grasped for his attention.

But you were beyond over it today.

“The promotion!” Nate smiled in a satisfied way. “It’s good. I think my dad is finally starting to see me for who I truly am. What I’m truly meant to be.”

You smiled sweetly. “And what’s that?” You played the supportive girlfriend part perfectly.

“CEO of New York’s biggest finance company.” Same shit, different day. As if you hadn’t heard that before. Except it isn’t New York’s biggest finance company. In fact, it’s barely a speck in the thousands that are fighting their way for a spot next to the big boys on Wall Street.

“That’s great,” you lied. “I’m happy for you.”

Fueled from the praise, Nate was suddenly a bit more animated. “So how’s it going with your—um—what’s it called? Your art stuff… the uh—”

“Photography?” You wanted to laugh. How hard was it to remember your passion? It’s not like he’d been calling you his girlfriend for the past two years or anything…

Mouth full, Nate nodded largely. “That.”

He’s not looking at his phone. You realize suddenly as you gave him a skeptical look over the table. He’s actually listening. He’s looking at me and listening! Call the press, this is monumental news—I should probably answer before he picks up the phone again—

“It’s good! You know I actually got an internship with this really big newspaper company. It’s the biggest opportunity I’ve had so far and I’m actually really really excited—”

He’s looking down at his phone again. Not only that but he’s picking up a call—right in the middle of this fancy five-star restaurant he’d claimed was the best of the city. Right in the middle of your passionate spiel.

Your jaw hung slightly, staring across the table incredulously as the words died on your tongue. Embarrassed tears filled your eyes, your throat tightening in shame as you glanced around at the nearby tables.

For the most part, everyone was minding their business, actively engaged in conversation with their partners. Until your eyes met the gaze of a young woman who sat at the table to your right. She was in a group, sat next to a man you assumed to be her husband (if the matching rings were any indication) and their hands were interlaced at their sides.

They seemed to be a little older than you, probably not by much but everything about their language screamed relaxed and comfortable. Secure and healthy.

Of course, you couldn’t know that for sure but then her husband was suddenly tugging at her hand softly, ripping her gaze away from you and back towards him. The look they shared hit you in the gut, punching you with a severe realization—it was a look you recognized.

A look that had been given to you many times… but not from the man who sat across from you. Not from the man who was currently laughing on the other end of a seemingly interesting phone call (more interesting than your photography at least).

You observed as the husband whispered something in his wife’s ear, the two giggling quietly as they leaned in closer. It left you speechless, their small interaction holding more love and adoration than anything you’d ever felt toward Nate.

Your appetite was suddenly gone.

It’s even worse when the woman looked over again, as if to check on you. When her eyes found yours again, she gave you a look of—of pity.

One single tear fell down your cheek, your face turning quickly to hide it, but you were sure she’d seen it.

A shaky hand came up to wipe it swiftly, watching through watery eyes as Nate took a joyous bite of his meal.

“Oh, you’re right outside?” Nate was saying to the person on the other end of the call. Your eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. “Great. I was just finishing up here. Yeah… Okay… Sure—I’ll meet you out there, how’s that? Okay, bye.”

He put his phone down loudly, finishing the last sip of wine in his glass. Then, your boyfriend looked up as if he remembered you were sitting at the table with him… on your two-year anniversary.

“Right!” He wiped his mouth with a cloth. “This has been swell, but really I invited you here to tell you something.”

You were perplexed. “Okay…”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

It was deadpan. A monotone statement that left you in an instant state of confusion. “What?”

“In all honesty, I shouldn’t have let it go this far. But you know how my dad is. He likes order and breaking up with you would’ve cost me my job. My goals…”

At this point, your jaw had dropped open at his audacity.

“And I couldn’t have that,” he laughed like it was all one big joke. “Clearly!”

You tried to take a moment to process your feelings—were you sad? Were you upset? Angry?

You should be sad, right? You should be on the verge of tears because your two-year relationship was over, right?

But all you feel is anger and a burning sense of humiliation. “Clearly, you’ve had your mind set for a while. How long did you fake it?”

“Fake what?” He had this dumb smile on his face, as if he hadn’t spent the last few months pulling you in with meaningless ‘I love you’s and little moments of affection that made you feel guilty for even considering putting yourself first.

Your nostrils flared. “Everything.”

“Don’t know. Lost count after the first few months,” he shrugged, waving over the server as he dug through his pocket for some cash.

Motionlessly, you sat in your spot, rethinking every single effort you’d made for your relationship to work. Rethinking every single time you’d lied to your best friend’s face and told him that you were in love with your boyfriend and that everything was alright. That he didn’t need to worry.

“But I’ve got this banging hot chick waiting outside for me and now that this promotion has secured me a spot on the board, there’s really no reason for me to put up with you anymore.” Nate gave the server a polite smile as he signed the receipt, leaving a generous tip on the table.

Put up with you anymore? What the hell did he put up with? Your tireless efforts to make him feel loved? All the times you’d make sure the workload wasn’t getting to him? The times you’d fake it just for him because you didn’t want to hurt his feelings?

What the actual fuck had become of you? Nate had destroyed you from the inside out, draining you of everything you had until he got bored of you.

“Fuck you,” was all you had to say, watching as your ex stood up, screeching his chair noisily until every other table looked your way.

He looked as if he enjoyed the insult, loved the joys that came with being an absolute asshole. “For what it’s worth,” you could sense it wasn’t going to be worth anything. “The sex was great.”

You were right.

With that, Nathaniel spun on his heel and sauntered out of the restaurant.

The tables around you were silent, eyes burning various holes in your figure while you felt a deep pit form in the base of your stomach. Nausea kept you rooted to the spot, afraid that if you moved, your entire meal would land right back on your plate.

Never in your life had you felt so humiliated, reduced to a good fuck and nothing more. After countless forgotten dates and anniversaries… After countless times you’d stuck your neck out for him.

And when you finally gathered the strength to stand up from your table, your legs were a bit shaky, overwhelmed from the mortification.

Stumbling onto the sidewalk in the chilly New York streets, your hands fumbled for your phone, dialing a number you’d known by heart since the seventh grade.

The line rang a few times before a warm voice picked up. “Hello?”

You wanted to sound normal, but the sound of your best friend was enough to break down all your defenses. “Pete?”

On the other end, Peter sat up quickly, heart dropping at the crack in your tone. “Sunshine, what’s wrong?” He practically cooed.

He could hear rapid footsteps on the other line, little puffs of breath leaving your mouth like you were hastily walking somewhere. “Are—are you home?”

Please, please tell me you’re home, you beg silently. Your throat ached from the sobs you were holding back.

“I am,” he replied instantly, the worry making him sit up and rush toward the window. He was already pulling off his shirt, dressed in his Spider-Man suit underneath the sweats, before you could sniffle a response.

“Um, I think…” you were stuttering, a million thoughts running through your head. “You were right.”

“About?” You could hear him pull the window open hastily.

You sniffled. “Nate.”

Halfway out the window, Peter froze, hanging from the side of the building. His breath caught in his lungs. “Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You answered weakly, finding a nice spot overlooking the Brooklyn bridge and collapsing on a bench.

Your best friend took a deep breath. “Did he—” his voice cracked in anger. “What did he do? Did he touch you?”

“What?” You spluttered. “No, he—he didn’t—”

“Y/N…” his voice was shaky like yours, though it was from the sudden fury that consumed his nerves at the mere thought of the asshole even touching you at all.

Just spit it out. “No. No, he didn’t hurt me… I, um, just got dumped.”

It was silent for longer than a minute and you glanced at your phone to make sure the call hadn’t dropped.

You continued. “…and—and I want to say that I’m sad. That my heart hurts and all I want is for my relationship to go back to the way it was but… but I can’t say that because it isn’t true.

“I just feel humiliated and drained. And it’s—” a sob escaped you. “It’s the worst feeling ever and you can say—you can say I told you so. It’s fine—”

“—it’s not.”

The phone slipped from your grasp, landing on the bench in a noisy clatter as you jumped at the sudden presence next to yours.

It was Peter—well not Peter, more like Spider-Man but it was your best friend nevertheless. “It’s not fine. I’m not going to sit here and gloat, because I didn’t want to be right.”

Your lip was caught between your teeth, something that secretly made his gaze linger on your mouth, and you were staring at him with those big doe eyes. Watery and full of a thousand things you wanted to say but wouldn’t.

“I didn’t want you to be hurt,” he whispered. “All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy, sunshine…”

With that, he crossed the few steps that separated you, joining you in the middle as you stood up. His arms wrapped around your waist protectively as your façade completely dropped, sobs wracking your frame violently.

He wished he could show you the depth of his love for you. Show you the way you deserve the be treated. Erase the pain that that asshole had caused.

But how could he put you in harm’s way? Expose you to the many enemies Spider-Man inevitably made?

It’s out of the question—it always had been and it always will be.

“I’m sorry,” you were repeating under your breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

A suit-clad hand reached up to stroke your hair back, pulling you tighter into his chest.

“How…” you sniffled. “How did you know where I was?”

Peter smiled softly. “Senior year, remember? Whenever we need a place to think—”

“—this is our spot,” you finished with a wobbly smile. “Right.”

It was an agreement you’d made years ago when the two of you had been going through a tremendous amount of stress. Between college applications and state assessments, you were both teetering the line between barely staying afloat and a full-on meltdown.

The week of college acceptances was the worst. Peter found you on this same bench almost every afternoon, sweating from jogging the bridge and nearly in tears as you stared at the water nervously.

And when freshman year of college rolled around and the two of you had moved in together, it was Peter’s turn to frequent the bench. Reduced to tears over his anxiety about juggling a full-time program in biophysics at an Ivy League and fulfilling his Spider-Man duties in the city.

The bench was a quiet place, marked by countless hugs and silent tears. It was your place.

“I didn’t even realize I came here,” you sighed, letting Peter drag you over to the bench.

A realization made you stop in your tracks. “You’re in the suit.”

“Right,” Peter grinned sheepishly under the mask. Then, he pulled you close and wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Wait—”

It was too late; he’d already taken off before you could brace yourself. Your heart sunk to your feet, a scream catching at the back of your throat as you frantically fought to wrap your arms around his neck.

It was impossible to open your eyes against the rushing wind, eyelids squeezed shut, clueless as to your destination. But you couldn’t find it in you to care, the only thing rushing through your mind was the desire to touch ground already.

Transportation by web wasn’t a new experience for you. But it didn’t mean you appreciated it anymore now than you did the first time. The views were pretty, sure, but nearly throwing up hundreds of feet over New York wasn’t.

The end couldn’t have come sooner. As soon as your feet touched solid surface, you snapped your eyes open. A scolding was at the tip of your tongue until you realized where he’d taken you.

The top of a skyscraper, an important monument if you had to guess.

Hurriedly, you looked down to survey the surface you were standing on. It was a nice slab of stainless steel, surprisingly sturdy and spacious. Next to you, a spire dwarfed you in size.

“We’re on the Empire State.”

You looked over at Peter; his mask was gone, hair swiped to the side in a curly mess. He seemed more relaxed than you’d seen him in days, no— months.

He took your silence as a sign to continue. “I’ve been coming here for a while now.”

“It’s beautiful,” you said, scanning the glittering buildings below. You spotted Madison Square Garden not too far ahead, laughing in amusement at the venue that seemed so big to you whenever you’d visit. Now, it was barely the size of your thumb.

Peter followed your gaze and gave you his own chuckle. “Tiny, right?”

“This is what you see every night?” You asked in amazement.

“Yeah. It’s the only place I can really think.”

The crack in his voice made you turn. There’s pain in his eyes, it’s the first time you really see it. The last few months had blinded you to a lot of things, your frustration and self-pity stealing you away from the one person who meant the most to you.

“Pete—”

“You know what I’d think about?” He pursed his lips. “While I was up here?” Something told you where this was going, but you were too afraid to answer.

“I’d think about you.”

Okay… He was absolutely mad at you. He’d been sparing your feelings because he could tell how miserable you were in that relationship but now, the jig was up. You were done and apparently, so was he. The words were tumbling out before you could stop them. “I’m sorry—”

“Wha—why?” Peter chuckled humorlessly. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I dunno,” you mumbled. “I know I haven’t really been there lately.”

It was silent. You hesitantly looked at your best friend to find him already staring at you with a look you couldn’t quite place.

“I would think about you,” he repeated pointedly. “For the last two years, I’ve watched you turn yourself into someone, at times, I barely recognized. I’ve watched you shrink yourself slowly until... until...” he never finished and it left you mildly curious, though you weren’t eager to hear an outside perspective of how you’d been played like a guitar string.

“That asshole didn’t deserve you, Y/N. You’re too good, too-too pure, and he didn’t deserve more than a minute of your time...”

You stared at the skyline, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. Peter wasn’t trying to make you feel bad, you knew that, but it stung nonetheless because he was right.

Then, he softly uttered your name. It was filled with an emotion that struck a nerve deep within you. You nearly choked.

“You’re still the same girl I’ve known since high school. The same girl that wouldn’t hesitate to put Flash Thompson in his place—” you rolled your eyes at the reminder of that dickwad. “You’re still the same girl that sees the good in everyone, and you’re still the same stubborn girl who can get villains to stand down from the sheer force of your will...”

He’s talking about Harry Osborn, and it finally draws a laugh out of you. It wasn’t funny a year ago, when the incident nearly got you killed, but it was enough to make you tearfully laugh now.

“Y/N… you’re still the sun.”

The laugh got paralyzed in your throat, choked down by a small sob of relief. The alleviating realization that the most debilitating aspect of your life was finally gone, a parasite that had been reducing you to ashes, shadowing your brightness and sucking every part of you until you were practically a shell of who you used to be.

There were words your best friend never heard, arguments and disputes no one would ever know, parts of yourself that would take more than an hour to steal back from Nate’s vicious clutch, but you were more than relieved to realize that at the other end of it, there was one thing that he could’ve never taken away from you.

Before you could say anything, Peter uttered one last thing.

“You’re still the same girl that I’ve always loved.”

A swell of emotions attacked your heart, squeezing and squeezing until the only relief was Peter’s arms. You’re glad that he has such fast reflexes or else you’d both be tumbling off the side of the building.

There could be multiple meanings behind that statement—and there definitely was— but Peter meant it in the way he knew you needed.

A confession wasn’t something you could handle right now, and it wasn’t something Peter could ever see himself admitting while he still worried about your safety, so he made sure you saw the fond edge in his gaze. The years of friendship and devotion that you two shared.

There weren’t words to describe how you felt about Peter Parker, you could barely make sense of it. But holding him close, feeling his hands around your waist and heartbeat against your ear, you were almost certain that the words that rested at the tip of your tongue held a different meaning than what he’d just said to you.

But you keep it in, afraid to shatter this moment and feeling the long road of healing ahead. It could wait.

This embrace was enough.

yes... this is a little bit of a mess but i’m fairly certain i say that about every single thing i write. also, shameless grey’s anatomy reference because that show has my entire heart and soul. anyway, this request is from MONTHS ago. i am so sorry you sweet anon but if anyone would like to read it, here it finally is.

hope you’re all having a splendid day. x

— elle <3

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alwaysmoncheri · 1 month

Note

hello! I hope you’re doing good! I would like to request a fic with tasm!peter parker or james potter if you prefer, but something where they’re making out and the reader ends up breaking his glasses? If that makes sense🫣

hi, my darling, i’m am doing very well! thank you for requesting, that makes complete sense! I’m totally watching tasm again after writing this <3

cw: fem!reader, making out, slightly suggestive (but not really), aunt may walking in, established relationship, fluff, 1.2k

Peter’s mouth is on your neck while the bridge of his glasses rubs against the skin just an inch higher than his mouth. His hands stay firmly planted on your hips as you sit in his lap on his swivel chair. Your textbook and computer lay abandoned next to his on his desk in front of you.

“Peter, I have to study,” you mumble, but the sigh that escapes your lips makes your excuse less believable, “We have to study.” you add, trying you best to get yourself and peter back on track for a big exam tomorrow. Crazy for Peter or not, this test is important and you need to get a little studying in, but you can’t get Peter to keep his hands off you.

“No, we don’t.” Peter replies quickly, before biting your neck, causing you to let out squeak.

“Peter,” you practically whine, and the chuckle that falls from Peter’s mouth vibrates onto your neck, causing you to squirm in his lap. When Peter lifts his head from your neck, you’re pouting. Lips jutted out and eyebrows pinched together with pleading eyes. Oh, Peter could die right here with you in his arms. He pulls you closer, biceps and hands pressed into your sides and forearms into your stomach.

“You’re going to be fine,” Peter offers gently, pressing a much softer kiss to your cheek, allowing you to release the tension from your face, “You’ve studied plenty already.”

“But–”

“No, buts,” Peter shuts you down, gently rubbing your sides in an attempt to silence your worries. He wants to kiss you so bad, but he would never do it without your permission. And if you want to study, he’ll let you, but he doesn’t think you really do, “Kiss me?”

Peter hears you release a long, dramatic, sigh before shifting yourself in his lap so that you’re straddling him, his hands now stabilizing you by your waist. For a moment your face is expressionless and Peter can’t read you. He worries that you’re unhappy with him but when he sees a giddy smile creep onto your face, he instantly reciprocates and his worries melt away.

You lock your hands around Peter’s neck before leaning in to kiss him. At first, you kiss him softly, tenderly just because you love him. But when you lightly tug on Peter’s hair at the nape of his neck, he takes it as a sign to tug on your hips, pulling you flush against his chest and deepen the kiss. But when the bridge of you nose knocks into Peter’s glasses, you groan in momentary pain, causing his eyes to widen, hand reaching up to gently hold your cheek, the action asking if you’re okay. When you nod your head and meet his gaze, you notice his concern before it’s quickly replaced with frustration. Peter quickly tears his glasses on his face and tosses them towards his bed without sparing a glance in that direction. But when a soft crack echos from across the room, you snap your gaze towards the glasses that now lay broken at the bridge on the floor.

“Peter!” You gasp, shifting your gaze between him and the broken glasses, but no concern seems to be etched on his face.

“Don’t worry, I can get new ones,” Peter assures you, kissing the corners of your lips while his nose delicately brushes the apples of your cheeks, “I just wanna kiss you.” Peter whispers and you feel a rush of warmth spread across your face at his tone.

“Aunt May isn’t going to be happy.” You state, nervously glancing towards the door that Peter probably forgot to lock again.

“Shush, less talking, baby,” Oh god, you melt completely at the way his says baby and presses his finger to your mouth, before replacing it with his lips, “More kissing.” He adds in between a few quick, hard, presses of his lips on yours.

“Oh whatev—hmph!”

Peter kisses you long and hard, successfully getting you to stop talking. You feel hot all over when he kisses you again and again. And when you rank your fingers through his hair, lightly tugging on the ends, while simultaneously gently biting his bottom lip, Peter makes a sound between a gasp and a groan that makes you want to do it again just so you can hear the sound once more. There’s a kiss, another, and another, you’re so caught up in the feeling of his mouth against yours, carefully sliding your hands up and down his chest before lightly gripping a fist full of his shirt to keep him near you.

The way Peter touches you is like muscle memory, he knows how to make you gasp and what makes you shiver. When, his hands slip under the material of your shirt and caress your skin, your body reacts exactly how he knows it always does. Then, he lifts you up, your legs wrap around his waist, and with his lips still on yours, he gently lowers the both of you onto his bed. He seems so far away now and you can’t handle it. Before he even has the chance to lower himself further down onto the bed, you grab his biceps, which are tensed from holding himself up, and tug him towards you. Peter practically falls and suddenly the weight of his whole body is on top of you, Peter worries for a moment, breaking the kiss, but you make a noise, reminiscent to a childish whine before grabbing his jaw with both of you hands and pulling him back. With his lips on yours, his tongue slides into your mouth while your thumbs trace the outline of his jaw and his hand slides behind you back and into your shirt.

“Hey, do you two know where—Oh my goodness!” You and Peter are quickly pulled apart, turning your heads in the direction of Aunt May’s loud gasp. She stands just outside the bedroom with one hand still on the doorknob, her expression loudly displaying her shock. Peter stays on top of you for a split second, before May’s gaze shifts between his hand in your shirt and both of your disheveled appearances, “Peter Benjamin Parker!”

With that, Peter immediately jumps up from on top of you, quickly grabbing your hand to stand next to him. Both of your faces are flushed red from being caught, even if all you were doing was kissing. Aunt May stands by the door, both of her hands placed firmly on her hips, presumably awaiting a reasonable response while you and Peter glance at each other in search of something to say. When Peter’s gaze returns to his aunt, he finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Aunt May—We were just—” Peter pauses as he stumbles over his words, feeling pathetic under the eyes of both you and his aunt.

“Studying.” You finish with a somewhat convincing smile and when Aunt May turns to you, her gaze softens, but when she notices the broken glasses laying forgotten on the floor behind you, her questioning expression returns.

“And what happened to your glasses?” Aunt May asks, a triumphant smile crossing her face as she knows she’s caught the two of you red-handed in your obvious lie, “Were you studying when that happened?”

You and Peter hesitate, he sends you a nervous smile and the both of you bite your tongues, not trusting yourselves to speak. After a moment, the two of you nod, heads hanging low.

“Mhm, right,” May hums before sending Peter a look that says, ‘we’ll talk later.’ Then, she takes a few steps into the room, causing you and Peter’s eyes to widen, but May only steps around you to pick up the broken glasses before walking back towards the door, “Well, dinner is almost ready, you two better behave.”

“Okay, yeah, thank you, May.” Peter says, and you can tell he’s beyond flustered by the situation as he runs a hand through his hair, then brushes a finger along his bottom lip, “We’ll be down soon.”

May nods before sending the both of you one final look, this one a little more playful than the rest. She exits the bedroom and closes the door behind her, leaving you and Peter alone once again.

The both of you share a glance before breaking out in a fit of laughter. Peter falls back onto the bed, tugging you down with his so that you’re laying on his chest.

“I told you she’d be mad.” You tease, running your hand up his chest, eventually reaching the back of his neck, while leaving a gentle kiss on his jaw.

“It was so worth it.” Peter smirks before flipping you over and kissing your face

masterlist . tasm!peter parker masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

tags: @googie-jeon, @Kevia1000, @annoyingmidgetwhowrites, @averyhotchner, @marauderswhxre, @vixparker

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vivwritesfics · 1 year

Text

"I Know"

Peter Parker has the best girlfriend ever

1.1K

Peter Parker x Reader

I've been MIA for the longest time because the inspo just hasn't been there. But I've gotten away from university for a few days, and this is what came from my peaceful time alone

"I'm so sorry, baby," said Peter. He stood on top of a building, watching a bank robbery happening opposite. A bag full of snacks and two pairs of his favourite pyjamas lay discarded beside him, and Peter made a mental note to pick it up later. The wind was biting, but Peter didn’t care. His attention was split evenly between his girlfriend and the bank robbery.

This was not the first time he had flaked on date night, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. He and his girlfriend both knew. But Peter Parker had the most understanding girlfriend in the world.

"It's okay, Pete," she said. Peter could picture her now, snuggled up in her bed, waiting to change into a pair of his pyjamas, with her snack basket filled and her laptop loaded up with a Christmas movie. "Go... save the world."

It wasn't quite saving the world, but she made Peter smile. She always made Peter smile. Y/N was the most understanding person in the world. "I'll be at yours as soon as I can. Don't open the chocolate without me."

After that, Peter had no choice but to hang up. The bank robbery had started to wrap up and Peter had to stop them. He put his phone in his bag, pulled his mask over his face, and swung down to the bank. "You guys have ruined my date night."

“What the fuck?” One of the bank robbers dropped his white bag filled with green notes and swung a bat at Peter.

It was cartoon-y, how these robbers were behaving. The white bags, the notes flying all over the place. Their ski masks weren’t masks at all, but unfolded beanies with the eyeholes cut out. “Wait, can I get a picture? My girlfriend is going to love this.”

***

Y/N’s family loved Peter. Somehow, he’d never been late to dinner with her parents. Either criminals decided to take the day off, to let Peter have his dinner, or for once somebody else was cleaning up the city in his stead.

But not tonight.

“I’ll be maybe ten minutes late,” he said as he swung through the city. His suit was discarded, but his tie was still around his neck.

Y/N had her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she put in a pair of earrings. Dinners like these were a big deal to her parents. The whole family dressed up fancy, all of her sibling’s partners were invited and they had at least three courses. “Pete, babe, it’s fine. I’ll cover you.” And, as she said it, she didn’t sound disappointed at all.

Peter really had the best girlfriend in the world. “Holy shit, I love you,” he said, only just noticing his tie. But it was too late to remove it now. “Please send me the cover story.”

They said their goodbyes (with Y/N begging him to stay safe) and went to do their things. Peter fought the bad guy, managing to keep his rather expensive tie intact. Y/N finished getting dressed for dinner and went downstairs to greet her parents.

Her siblings and their partners were already downstairs, drinks in their hands.

“There she is!” Called her brother as Y/N stepped into the room. He checked his watch and feigned a frown. “Not like that boyfriend of yours to be late, is it?”

With her hands clasped behind her back, Y/N rocked on her heels. “Actually, Peters gonna be late today,” she said, hoping they weren’t going to ask anymore questions.

“That Parker boy is never late,” her father said, “What’s holding him up?”

Before now, Y/N hadn’t thought of an excuse for Peter. She had just hoped they wouldn’t ask, and then he could’ve come up with his own backstory. (Peter had gotten good at that).

“Uhh…His house… caught fire? And his aunt… is in the hospital… with death?” oh yeah no this was not going well. “Oh! And the tire on his bike popped.”

Yes. That was very believable.

But nobody questioned it as Y/N sat beside her sister and her sister’s girlfriend. “He’ll be here soon.”

Her eyes shifted to the floor, which only made everything more believable. She pulled out her phone and sent Peter the cover story, just seconds before the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” She shouted, jumping up.

Racing to the front door, Y/N pulled it open to see Peter stood there, still sorting out his suit. “You are so lucky nobody else answered the door,” she said and buttoned up his shirt correctly. “I sent you over the cover story,” she whispered and kissed his cheek.

Pulling him into the house, Y/N pushed him towards her father. “Hello, Mr L/N! Sorry, I’m late, my tire burst.”

Suddenly, Y/N’s mother came running out of the kitchen. “Peter, my dear!” She shouted and pulled him in for a hug. “I’m so sorry to hear about May and your house. You can stay here for as long as you need!” She cried, running her fingers through her hair. He looked at Y/N with her brows furrowed. ‘Go with it’, she mimed. “How about we all go and visit May as soon as we’re finished with dinner?”

“Oh! Please, Mrs L/N. That’s not necessary.” Peter pulled away from his girlfriend’s mother and grabbed Y/N’s hand. “Can I have a word with you upstairs?” He asked her, and Y/N allowed herself to be pulled up to her bedroom.

As soon as the door was shut Y/N was wrapped around him. “I missed you,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Missed me so much you told your family that May was in the hospital?”

“And that your house burnt down,” she said quietly, laying her head on his chest. “I know I said I’d cover for you, but I’m not very good at it, Pete.” Her arms snaked around his middle, sitting beneath his blazer.

Peter’s phone suddenly buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and frowned once he looked at it. “Oh god, what is it?” Asked Y/N, looking up at Peter with wide eyes.

“Baby, I love you but, I’ve got to go. I swear this’ll-”

“It’s okay, Peter, I know.”

Peter kissed her. It was slow, yet oh so intense. One of those kisses that makes you gasp. “I have the best girlfriend in the world.”

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x female reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker smut #tasm!peter parker x reader smut #andrew garfield #andrew garfield imagine #spider-man #the amazing spider man

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irndad · 7 months

Note

TULIP WITH THE GUY EVER

this is for peter!! im feral for this man my god this is long for nothing happening- guys i am SO fucking rusty prompt: an act of affection so blatant everyone notices roommate!peter <;3 flower prompts

It’s hard not to look at her.

There’s so much to observe, so much to place his attention on- how she smiles, the way she taps the sides of her mugs before she sips her tea. She’s a vision in red lipstick and he’s the kind of person that’s blessed to be in her presence.

It’s a Friday night, and there’s a sweet sort way that she curls into herself. She’s been his friend for just about a minute longer than he’s been in love with her, and he’d like to think he does a decent job at hiding this fact.

He landed on his hip today, from a height far enough off the ground that it still hurts, pain radiating from every step as he walks home. The commute is actually quite far from his internship at the newspaper, but he likes the area he lives, and the woman whose company he keeps while he lives there. He makes concessions.

Still, he’d been looking forward to the sight of her since the ache began. Her presence had a way of soothing.

She’s curled up onto an inherited recliner in their shared apartment, and when he bursts their creaky door open in a fluid motion, he’s greeted with this sight. She’s not alone- some friends from her graduate program on their Ikea couch.

It’s girls night, and it’s his dutiful role to say a quick quip and head back to his room. Her two best friends are over, legs splayed over each other in an open display of affection that he adores witnessing. He could hear the laughter and yelling from outside the apartment itself. He likes how they make her laugh, how they seem to make her heart lighter when he can tell she’s not able to carry the weight of everything by herself.

“Peter!” She’s the first to even notice he’s around, and he tries not to let the stubborn firework in his chest keep exploding at the thought of it. At the thought, she sees me. Her voice is warm and kind and weightless, and he drinks in the sight of her. Their floor lamp illuminates her in warm golden light, a coupe glass with red wine held in delicate fingers.

“Hey, you,” he replies, an unmistakable warmth he can’t seem to rid himself of in his tone. He tries not to seem disappointed, like he’d not been imagining watching an irrelevant TV show, a little too close together until they’d fallen asleep just that way.

As he’s hanging his withered coat, he asks, “What are you guys up to tonight?”

Her friend explains that they are watching the Spy Kids trilogy in order, and she nods dutifully along.

“That sounds wonderful,” he can’t help but laugh. “I’ll leave you guys be-“

And it’s no surprise, when they send a him a chorus of please join, and you’re welcome to be here!

She stands up to give him a hug goodnight (because she wants to kill him), and he envelops her before he can stop himself. She smells like a mixture of lavender and rose and sweet red wine, and he’s grateful for his heightened senses for a moment; it doesn’t take long to memorize it all.

It occurs to him that he won’t see her until morning, and he takes in the sight of her again, eyes raking over her. She really is beautiful- lovely in a way that radiates her smile, follows her in action. His hands rest on the curve of her waist, and something and things being made to fit one another cross his mind, against his better judgement. God, he could spend forever looking at her, longer touching her.

He only pulls away when he hears a muffled pair of laughs, failed attempts at not interrupting a moment. Which is absurd, because there is no moment. None.

She beams at him despite the laughter of those she holds dear, and it aches saying goodbye to her. She's just down the hall and it hurts to leave.

He slinks off to his bedroom smelling like her perfume, blushing bright red and maybe, just maybe, the tiniest bit hopeful. And he thinks he might of heard the faint whisper of two other people, whispering questions he mulls over every day.

"Just roommates, huh?"

#the amazing spider man #andrew garfield #andrew garfield spiderman #spiderman #spiderman x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker oneshot #peter parker blurb #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #tasm #tasm peter parker x reader #andrew g

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luveline · 10 months

Note

Can I request just Peter and shy!reader cuddling and stuff after a long day (after r having a long day or after peters spidey stuff whichever) ❤️

thank you for your request! tasm!peter parker x fem!reader, 1k

It feels like Peter's been gone for a long, long time when he finally comes home. Hair whipped every which way from swinging, his cheeks kissed by cold, nose bitten and pink, he drops his keys by the door and sweeps you up into his impossibly strong arms.

You'd usually laugh at the sudden weightlessness, but his touch summons a lump in your throat, the thrumming feeling of missing him alive and in your hands. You work them around his shoulders.

"You had a bad day?" he asks. You don't know how he knows, but he does.

"I just needed to see you," you say, embarrassed by the strength of your feelings.

Peter walks you backwards and you do laugh, then, the rigidness of your emotion warmed into softness by his arms around you and his easy smile. Peter dunks you down onto your L-shaped couch so you're flat on your back with your legs propped up and isn't shy about laying on top of you, the firm muscle of his thigh slotting between your softer ones, his hands moving to frame your face.

He holds your cheeks for a second, decides he actually can't deal with the weight of his bag still on his shoulders or the jacket that haphazardly hides his suit and shrugs both off, and then holds your face again.

"You're warm," he says.

"You're cold," you say, turning your cheek into his hand, your head smushed up against the couch cushions.

You close your eyes as he gets comfortable, content to spend long, slow minutes in the sanctuary of his arms, knowing he'll let you stay here however long you need to. You think you could commit to the couch for the remainder of your life and Peter would spend the rest of his days bringing you trinkets and offering to give you sponge baths. It's a preposterous thought based on an absolute truth; Peter would do anything for you. You'd do anything for him.

You curl your arms around the broad, muscled stretch of his back, fingertips tripping over the wrinkles in his shirt, nose sniffing indulgently at his hair.

"I needed to see you, too," he says into your neck. He speaks quietly, but not for the sake of any concerns. There's no need for privacy, and no shame in the admission. "Day's perfect now."

It's such a him thing to say.

After another handful of quiet minutes, Peter works it around so he's the one being weighed down, squeezing between you and the couch armrest and easing you effortlessly onto his chest. You throw a leg over his thigh, curl an arm around his waist. He's not as cold anymore, but you rub his arm in a steadying back and forth until you've made your way to his fingers. They're still pretty cold —you pull his hand to your mouth and blow warm air at his fingertips until they're pink rather than blue.

Peter noses your hairline affectionately. "You're quiet today. More than usual," he says. "Should I be concerned?"

"No," you murmur, rubbing his knuckles against your forehead for no good reason. It feels nice. After less than half a second, he does it of his own accord.

Peter pushes your head back gently and starts to kiss you. Your forehead from end to end, the bridge of your nose, the tip. You shiver happily at the feeling and tilt your chin up for a proper kiss, though that happiness quickly melds to embarrassment when he laughs against your lips. I know what you want, his laugh says.

And even though he's right, even though it's obvious, it's raw to be caught wanting. He knows how much you want him in any and all capacity, and that's scary.

You'd pull away if you thought Peter didn't know how you felt; you trust him completely. He can kiss you sick, for all you care.

Peter doesn't kiss you for long, resting his forehead against your jaw, hand at the back of your neck to hold you where he wants you.

"Put your head back," he murmurs, faux-thoughtful, "I wanna give you a better kiss."

"You want to give me a bruise," you murmur back.

He dips in to kiss your neck softly. "Not true," he says, his bottom lip tickling you as he exhales.

You lean back and raise your shoulder to push him away. You trust him, you love him, but if he gives you a hickey tonight you won't be able to look at him without a hot flush. You're too tired for anything amorous.

Peter doesn't hold it against you. If anything, he does the opposite, rubbing your aching shoulders with a big, flat palm, like he's saying sorry. It's unnecessary.

"I love you," you say.

"I know," he says, giving you a short pat between shoulder blades. "Not as much as I love you, though, don't get it twisted."

"I'm not getting anything twisted."

"No?" Peter pulls you up his chest and turns his head so you can look at each other comfortably, no craned necks up or down. "Feels like you are. You think you love me more, which is scientifically improbable."

"I didn't say that."

"It felt like you said that."

"I didn't say that." You glare at one another. The glares don't last long.

You dive in for another hug, Peter tightening his grip around your waist, forearms up your back and locking you in. "This is nice," you say.

"For you. My arm is dead."

You giggle and shift further on top of him to alleviate the pressure on his arm. He groans like you're his very worst ailment, but when he kisses your head it's so tender you'd bet money that it left a mark, a physical actualisation of his affection.

"Better?" he asks.

You know what he's asking without further explanation. Do you feel better now?

You nod against his neck, thinking you might just fall asleep in his arms.

#peter parker #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker fluff #tasm!peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm!peter x you #tasm fic #tasm!peter x reader #the amazing spider man 2 #the amazing spider man #tasm peter parker #tasm #tasm peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker imagine

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literaila · 1 year

Text

the party

tasm!peter x reader

summary:

“i told 'em we were leaving."

"and there's no other reason i can't go back in there?"

"absolutely not."

warnings: fluff, jealously, holiday party

a/n: happy holidays!

"c'mon," you say, in some semblance of a whisper. "we're leaving."

you grab peters hand, taking his cup of eggnog-whatever from the other one and putting it on a nearby table. you pull him along, giving a fake smile to everyone that laughs at you as you walk by.

you're not very familiar with this house--or any of these people--but you're pretty sure that the door was just a couple of hallways away.

and also absolutely sure that if you don't leave right now, the holiday season will be ruined.

"what's going on?" peter asks from behind you, only tripping a little bit as he tries to follow you.

"where was the door?"

"baby," he repeats. "why are we leaving? did someone say something to you? because--"

you wave a hand. turn back to him with a pout. "i'm just tired."

peter raises a brow.

"it's getting late," you excuse, turning away.

peter's hand brings you right back, stopping the two of you in this hallway, hand cradling your cheek--despite your many protests, and pulling on his arm. "it's nine."

you fake yawn. "bedtime."

peter uses his other hand to grab your face, leaning down to get a view of your eyes. "what happened?" he says, slightly smiling, but mostly serious.

"nothing, peter."

"you're pouting."

you pout even harder. "no i'm not."

and then, after a single second of contemplating, you move your hands to peter's hair, messing it up until it falls in his eyes. and then you lean back, taking a second to admire your work before nodding with a smile.

"there," you say, mostly to yourself. "okay, let's go."

"nuh uh," peter says, pulling your arm back when you start to leave. "what was that?" he asks, fixing his hair and staring at you with an amused smile.

a smile that is far too attractive and loving and all the things you usually like about peter but hate right now.

especially because he's looking at you like that.

and because if he asked you to do anything with that smile on his face you would do it.

and so would everyone else.

"nothing," you say, still, frowning just slightly. "can we go?" you ask him now, looking around to make sure that no one can hear you.

peter tilts his head and stares at you. "sure," he says, "if you want. but you gotta tell me why first."

"peter," you groan.

he covers your mouth with a warm hand. "if someone said something to you, i want to know. if they started caroling, i want to know. and if you're not feeling well--"

you say something under his hand.

"what?" he asks, moving it.

"nothing happened. i just want leave."

peter leans back with furrowed brows. "all of the sudden?"

"yes."

"you're done with this party?"

"so done."

peter laughs. "alright, we can go. let me just say goodbye--"

peter starts to walk away but you jump in front of him, hands on his chest, pushing him back.

"what?" he asks, confused and exasperated.

"you can't go back in there," you say, trying to make sense of the words. "because, well, i already--i already said goodbye."

peter puts his hands on your shoulders, leaning down again.

he raises a brow. "you already said goodbye?"

"yup."

"to everyone?"

"all the important people. i told 'em we were leaving."

peter looks only slightly doubtful. "and there's no other reason i can't go back in there?"

"absolutely not."

peter laughs. "you're funny when you lie."

"i'm not lying," you swear, promising to yourself that you're not. that this stupid boy in front of you means absolutely nothing.

and that his smile is rational. and that yours is nonexistent--even though you can feel your lip quirking.

"why won't you tell me?" peter asks.

"cause there's nothing to tell."

he pokes you in the middle of your forehead. "c'mon, we both know you're lying."

you huff. "we both know that we're leaving now."

"i don't know," peter says, looking longingly at the room you've just left. "i think they were about to play charades. wouldn't want to miss that."

"peter," you whine.

"plus, i don't know if i want to go home with a liar."

you cross your arms. "fine. good luck finding a ride," and you turn to go.

"baby," peter laughs, pulling you back again. "i just want to know why you won't tell me what's up."

"you'll just laugh."

"i promise i won't laugh."

you scowl at him.

"what?" peter asks, raising his hands in surrender. "i won't. i won't even smile." then he drops his face so that he's just staring at you.

and you are absolutely unamused.

peter waits, looking around the room.

you sigh. "do you know how many people were flirting with you?"

peter frowns. "what?"

"and making eyes and smiling at you and telling you that you should definitely try this new cafe on broadway, and if they just happened to show up--"

"no one said that," peter says, both eyebrows raised, just a hint of a smile on his face. "are you jealous?"

"yes!" you say hands going to cover your face. you groan. "i was just standing across the room trying to be nice to your friends while watching everyone you talked to drool all over you."

peter laughs.

"see?" you say, pouting at him. "i told you that you'd just laugh."

"you don't have to be jealous--"

"bug," you mock him. "'i didn't even realize if they were flirting with me because i'm completely oblivious and ridiculously handsome.'"

peter scowls. "i don't sound like that."

"i didn't want to tell you cause i knew you'd just deny it and then try to distract me with your eyes or something."

"my eyes?" peter laughs.

"yes. or your stupid smile."

"stupid, huh?"

and you're so busy staring at the ground, feeling embarrassed and dejected--because you trust peter and you love him and you're being irriational--that you don't realize when peter steps towards you, hands wrapping around your waist.

"hey," he says softly, trying to get you to look up at him.

but you refuse.

"nuh uh," you tell him. "you're not going to fix this by being sweet."

peter hums. and then he uses a hand to tilt your chin up towards him.

up to peter with his soft smile and warm brown eyes. staring at only you.

"i was just talking about you," he whispers, finger tracing the slope of your jaw.

"what?" you blink.

peter moves your hair out of your eyes, cradling your cheek. "i was talking about when we made all those cookies last week and got flour everywhere, and how you and may gang up on me about my terrible gift-giving skills--"

"--we don't do that."

"you do. and how when it snows you curl up close to me in bed and stick your cold feet on my legs."

you shrug. "you're warm."

"even if they were flirting with me," peter says, smiling the certain smile he only has when he's with you. "i was just bragging about my baby."

a bit flustered, you look away from his eyes. "really?" you ask.

"yup. i'm sure that they're all glad i'm gone."

you grin, looking back at him.

"there it is," peter whispers, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose.

but you tilt your head, and your lips meet his.

peter smiles into the kiss, a hand on the back of your head holding you as close as possible. your hands curl into his hair, soft and smooth and as messy as it always is.

after a moment too long for this hallway, peter pulls back.

"see?" he asks. "i'm all yours. you don't need to worry about that."

you smile at him. "mine."

my masterlist here.

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writtenbymoonflower · 4 months

Text

Unpretty

You are insecure and Peter is oblivious. tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

cw: reader had very negative thoughts about body image. mentions of weight and general body image issues. i tried to keep it as neutral as possible so everybody could read and relate, so it can be read as plus!size reader or not.

1.5k words

The position you were in wasn’t unnecessarily uncomfortable. The physical part felt really nice, actually. Peter was laid on his side, nose nuzzled into your hair while you were in his arms flat on your back. His even breathing was soothing and you felt close and warm.

Emotionally, however, you felt confused.

You had to resist cringing every time you remembered that Peter’s large hand was spread over the bottom of your tummy, likely feeling everything “wrong” about it. He could definitely feel it wasn’t as flat or firm as you would like it to be, even through your thick crewneck. And even though you logically knew it was impossible, you felt the stinging insecurity all over your body, like he was touching you everywhere you hated. Your brain was telling you that through feeling the soft part of your stomach, he could also feel and see where your thighs were too big, where stretchmarks were painted all over your body, and where your skin wasn’t completely smooth.

He probably would hate my body as much as I do if he could see. The little voice in your head nagged.

Obviously, you knew that wasn’t true. You knew that everyone had little things that bothered them and yours weren’t even especially unusual. You also knew that voicing these thoughts to Peter would likely lead to you being even more self-conscious and him being confused. Or even worse, him pitying you. You were snapped out of your spiral by Peter’s shifting in position.

“What’re you thinking of, baby?” Peter whispered. To your horror, his hand started rubbing your stomach over your sweater. “I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears.” He laughed the way he does when trying to calm you down, like he doesn’t think it’s funny but it might be less intimidating if you believe he does. You turned your head to look at him. Being this close didn’t allow you to see his full face, but you could see one of his pretty brown eyes, looking at you with far too much love for your heart to handle.

“Not thinking of anythin’ really.” You kept your voice as even as possible and hoped he didn’t hear the nervous hitch in your breath as he reached under the hem of your sweatshirt to touch your skin. You panicked and tried to cover by grabbing his hand in yours and holding it between your ribs, right under your chest. He looked confused but still stroked your hand with his thumb.

“Yeah okay.” He was sarcastic and rolling his eyes but his voice was still light. He brought your joined hands up to kiss the veins on your wrist, closing his eyes and letting his lips linger for a good few seconds. All while still burning his eyes over your face, letting his pupils linger over a feature before jumping to the next, admiring your whole face with so much care you would cry.

“What?” You asked, growing shy under his intense stare.

“You’re so pretty, baby.” He was still smiling at you like a fool. “So so pretty.” He sing-songed. He urged you to lay on top of him with his arms, but you held fast in your place. Your boyfriend apparently took this as a challenge, because he showed off his real strength by pulling you fast onto his chest.

“Peter!” You said, scolding and nervous and flustered all at once.

“What?” He asked smugly, with a look of triumph on his face. You ducked your head out of his eyesight. “Baby, what’s up?” He asked again, more sincere. You still didn’t answer, your anxiety was roaring too loud in your head. You were probably crushing him under your weight. His hands were planted on your hips, likely feeling the extra fat and getting grossed out. He was just too nice to say anything. He was also too far close to your face for comfort, definitely seeing patches of oily skin or blemishes littering your face. It all became too much for you and you tried to roll off of him, but he gripped onto you harder.

“Peter, let me off.” You kept your voice light but you were panicking inside.

“Yeah, not happening.” He stayed stubborn as a mule.

“But I’m heavy, I’ll crush you.” You said desperately.

“Good.” He rebutted, still acting as if this was a casual conversation.

“Peter, I’m serious. I’m too heavy for this. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Your voice trailed off, getting quieter towards the end. The whole sentence was soaked in shame that Peter hadn’t yet picked up on. Now, there was a concerned crease between his eyebrows.

“Huh?” He looked genuinely confused. “What put that dumb idea in your head? ‘Too heavy’ for what, exactly?” He started as if he was about to rant, but cut it short. To your dismay, he pulled more of your weight onto him.

“It’s not dumb, it’s true. I’m just too heavy” You argued back. He couldn’t really be that oblivious. Anyone with eyes could see it.

“Oh I’m sorry,” He started sassing, like he actually wasn’t sorry at all. “I didn’t know that you now were the only deciding judge of something being ‘too much.’” He was being defiant on purpose.

“Peter, please.” All joking and argumentativeness had left your tone, just leaving shame and sadness. Peter softened at this and encouraged your head up to meet his eyes, holding your jaw firmly so you couldn’t look away. He looked like he was slowly putting pieces together in his head.

“Baby,” He started, still not breaking eye contact with you. “Is this why you’ve not been letting me touch you as much?” Peter looked so sad, it didn’t suit him at all and you wanted to make it better immediately. “Do you think there’s something wrong with you, that I would think there’s something wrong with you?” On the last sentence he was extra distressed, like he couldn’t believe the words were leaving his mouth.

“I just-” You were trying to articulate your feelings without making this any worse. “I mean, not every part of me is pretty, you know that.” You tried to say it casually but Peter’s expression didn’t lighten at all. Instead, his bottom lip jutted out and his eyes got wider, looking like a cartoonishly sad puppy who was denied a treat.

“I don’t know that, actually.” He moved his hand to the back of your head, threading his fingers in your hair. “You don’t think you’re pretty?” He said the last part like his heart was cracking. And in Peter’s mind, it was. His baby was thinking badly of herself, and even worse, she was thinking he thought badly of her.

“I mean,” You cringed as the words left your mouth, wanting desperately for the conversation to end. “Not really. At least, there is a lot about me that could be a lot better.” Peter was at a loss for words. You had obviously mulled this over and were solid in your opinion.

“I don’t think there is. I think you are perfect. I love everything about you.” He said softly, his voice missing its usual teasing tone.

“But-” You started, but cut yourself off.

“But what?” Your argumentative boyfriend was back. “C’mon. Talk to me, baby.”

“I just-” You gathered your thoughts as best you could. He was really being difficult. There was no way he hadn’t noticed something. You also really did not want to say your insecurities out loud. It was too raw. But you knew Peter, and he wouldn’t back off without you giving something. “My stomach isn’t flat.” You said, as if that was enough argument for you being disgusting.

“Okay?” He actually laughed at this, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “And?”

You rolled your eyes, irritated. “And, in general I’m just too big. And my skin isn’t good either. It just doesn’t all add up very well does it?” You resisted the urge to cry, you didn’t want to add that on top of this already stressful discussion.

“Sweetheart,” He looked exasperated. “I think- I think you’re being really mean and unfair to yourself.” He searched for the right words. “Everyone has things about themselves they don’t like, yeah? But you should know, you are not too anything, and there is nothing about your looks or body that is ‘not good.’’ He said every word firmly. “And most importantly, there is nothing, absolutely nothing about your body that I dislike, or that you should worry about me seeing or touching, okay?” His voice was soft during the last few sentences, like he was speaking to a little kid with a scraped knee. It made it a lot harder to resist crying. “Okay?” he said, still looking directly into your eyes.

“Okay.” You said, watery. You swallowed hard and buried your face in his chest, feeling all too many emotions. “Thank you, Pete.” You didn’t think you could say anything else without falling apart.

“It’s okay. I'ts alright. It’s what I’m here for.” He stroked the back of your head, still being gentle. “Just do me a favor, yeah?”

“Mhm?” You muffled.

“Just, make my job easier for me next time. Tell me when you’re feeling like this, okay baby?” He pleaded as he pressed a kiss to your hair.

“Okay. I will.”

“Good. Now cuddle me please.” Demanding Peter was back. “And put all your weight on me, it’s no good otherwise.”

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frenziedslashers · 11 months

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Hi there! I would like a request a OS about Peter B Parker x Fem! Reader as a married couple Smut (Reader is Mayday's mother). The Reader is like Starfire (An alien superheroine and a beautiful hot like fire (literally, since her powers comes from the sun) person married to a human) Like Malewife and Girlboss...So when Peter comes home, she's taking care of her daughter meanwhile he was on patrol, so she put her daughter on bed time. She wants to have a night of "fun" with her husband. Taking good care of him with a bath and a dinner so then the "fun" can come. With a purple robe and a sexy lavender lingerie. I can leave the smut part to you with some recommendations Lactation Kink, Praise kink, "Mommy" kink, Oral (Female and male receiving), Creampie, maybe 69 position...

Take good care 🥰

Early Nights Off;;

A/N: Dude, I am literally blowing you kisses and hugging you platonically through my laptop rn. I was smiling and kicking my feet when I saw that you nearly instantly sent me a request for Peter. I am so in love with him, I love my silly goofy DILFs hehe. I have never written for a lactation kink before so I will not be doing that as I do not know how and Idk how comfortable I am with it LMAO I will try and interoperate the rest into this for you though. Thank you again, literally my savior for my brain rot rn. HE IS SO MALEWIFE THOUGH, YOU ARE SO REAL. I hope this is good enough, this is my first Peter fic haha.

Warnings: Breeding Kink (I just know he has one after Mayday.), Praise Kink, "Mommy" Kink sort of?, Oral (F and M Receiving), Creampie (Wrap it before you tap it guys), Reader is an alien (Not proofread, sorry lmao)

Any other day it would be easy for Peter to patrol the city all night. Even if the crime activity was little to nothing. He could spend all day and night swinging from building to building. It beat sitting at home with nothing to do.

Except now he had a reason to be home. Even before the two of you had Mayday, and it was just you. He found himself crawling through the window of your shared apartment earlier and earlier each night. You were his weakness, and he was never ashamed to admit it.

After you gave him his first kid though. There were some nights that he wouldn't go out at all. Too enraptured by baby Mayday to even think about leaving your cozy home. Playing with the baby. Watching you nurture and care for her. Being a dad was something he enjoyed a lot more than he ever thought he would. He had Miles to thank for breaking his fear of kids.

Tonight was one of his early nights. Calling it quits after all he found for crime activity was a man robbing a woman of her purse. Cliché and typical, but he put a stop to it nonetheless. Getting the woman's purse back while also tying the attacker up in front of the New York Police Department with a letter attached to him.

'Caught him robbing a lady, you're welcome. - Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.'

He wondered if they ever actually took in and charged the people he left on their doorstep like that. Or if they simply untied them and let them run because they had no proof they actually did anything wrong? That was a question for another time, though. Right now he was focused on opening the bedroom window. Crawling in and shutting it behind him to keep the muggy air outside from entering the room.

He was quick to take the suit off. Figuring he wouldn't need it for the rest of the night. Pulling a grey shirt on that hung on the side of the bed. Keeping only his boxers on to allow his body to cool down from the warmer conditions outside.

You were in the living room. Comfortable pajamas on while you lulled Mayday to sleep in your arms. A soft hum leaving your throat as you rocked her back and forth. He had to stop and watch for a while. Leaning against the door frame that led him from your shared room to the living room.

"You're back early," you cooed. At times he wished you didn't have the ability to sense him like he could you. It was nice sometimes, though. Not at times that he wanted to just sit and watch you mother his baby.

"I missed my beautiful girls," he murmured, that smug smile gracing his features. You were glad to have looked up and seen it.

"Well, I just fed her and got her to sleep." you informed, and he nodded. Licking his lips while his eyes raked over you. Practically undressing you and imagining all the things he could do to you right now. It had been so long since the two of you had any time to each other. That seemed to be one of the few, if not only down falls to being parents. Sex felt scarce, but that didn't mean it was totally absent from your lives.

"I think I might shower while you lay her down," he spoke, shifting his feet as he went to turn back for the bathroom down the hall. "Or I could run you a bath while I make you something to eat?" you offered and he just couldn't say no.

He smiled, nodding his head while staring you down. So much love and adoration was in his eyes. He was perfect. Mayday was perfect. You were perfect.

"What man could say no to that offer?" He snickered, to which you rolled your eyes. Smiling fondly at your husband while you stood to your feet. Kissing his cheek when you made it over to him. "I'll get that bath running then," you hummed. Heading for Maydays room to put her to bed. Shutting the door behind you before you scurried off for the bathroom. Swaying your hips a little more than normal since you knew he was staring.

He was, too. His eyes eating you up like candy while they took in your form. God, he could eat you alive.

The water was the perfect temperature. The soaps that you put in it had him melting into the atmosphere. Everything was perfect. He couldn't ask for anything better. When you came walking in with food, and that skimpy bathrobe that drove him crazy. He was certain you were praying on his downfall.

"You spoil me," he told you as he took a plate from your hand. Watching as you sat on the edge of the tub with your own plate in hand. The both of you eating together. Peter a little more eager than you. He loved his food.

"Only because you spoil me in return," you grinned. He raised a questioning brow. Taking a bite of the Mac and Cheese that you warmed up from the night before. "How? I don't make enough money to spoil you. You spoil me more that I do you, and it's a little unfair," he pouted a bit. He hated the fact that he couldn't spoil you like he wanted to, but you never seemed to mind. Everything was fine the way it was.

"You find your ways, Pete," you hummed as you put your plate on the sink counter. Climbing off the tub so you could kneel on the floor next to the tub. His eyes were glued to yours. A questioning glint to them that begged for you to explain further.

"You don't need money to spoil someone. You pamper me with little things. Like your affection and how romantic you can be," you smiled, because he truly was a sap. He loved spending nights cuddling with you. Kissing over your body while reminding you how beautiful you were. Praising you for carrying his baby. Your baby. Making dinner for you on the nights that you couldn't bring yourself to. Or simply taking you and Mayday to the park to get some ice-cream and be a family.

"If it weren't for you, I probably would have never had little Mayday, either," you admitted, and he raised a brow. "Really?" He questioned, and you nodded.

"I never really wanted kids. Not until we started dating. You made me realize that I don't need to be scared of that sort of commitment ever again. You gave me a beautiful daughter," he felt his heart racing at your words. "I never really wanted a kid before you, either. It scared me, being a superhero and all." You both chuckled at that. Staring at one another for a moment or two.

"I guess we both spoiled each other in that department," you told him, and he nodded. "Guess so."

When Peter and yourself finally finished eating, that's when you helped him wash his hair. Something that he was going to do himself, but when you offered to do so. He just laid back and let you.

Your fingers pulled through his hair. Nails scratching his scalp just right while you spread the shampoo. A soft moan leaving his lips while his eyes fell shut. It had you smiling to yourself. Biting your bottom lip to try and keep it from growing any wider.

You leaned in to press a kiss to his shoulder. Your hands trailing down his chest while you leaned in closer to his ear. Peter's eyes opening when he felt your breath on his ear. His eyes trailing down to your chest. Catching a glimpse of the lavender bra under your bathrobe. The thought of you in lingerie had him grunting. His cock twitching to life under the water. It had been too long since the two of you had done anything like this. Something that wasn't a quickie before he left for work after his lunch break, while Mayday was down for her afternoon nap.

"God, I love you so much," he muttered, and you giggled. Pressing a kiss to his temple. "Scoot down so I can wash your hair out, goofball," you teased, and he felt his heart thumping. "Yes Ma'am."

Once his hair was all washed it was time for him to call it a night. Eyes begging for you to take him to the bedroom so you could both fuck like rabbits. Before Mayday that's what it felt like you two were. Primal Animals that only knew how to fuck or make love. Whatever mood Peter was in that night deciphered how he screwed you.

Tonight he wanted to pamper you. To really spoil you since he knew you planned to do the same to him. Gosh, "I'd do anything to be between those thighs," He murmured out loud. A dumbstruck look on his face. He hadn't even noticed he said it out loud, and you knew it. A giggle escaping your lips while you leaned forward. Ghosting your lips over his. "Not if I'm between yours first," you cooed, and he shuddered.

His face was a slight red out of embarrassment. He hadn't meant to say that to you out loud, but it wouldn't be the first lewd thing he'd ever said to you. Peter was fairly good at telling you what he wanted and how he wanted to do it. The more lust filled he got, the less of a sensor he had.

It was like a race for the both of you. Peter standing from the tub while flicking the switch so the water would drain. Scrambling out of it while you laughed and giggled with him. The both of you doing your best to be quiet so Mayday wouldn't wake up.

You ran for the bedroom. Feet pattering against the wooden floor while he did the same. Shutting the door behind himself before he pulled you in for a kiss that he craved. One that you both craved, really.

"I know you're wearing it," he spoke against your lips. Pulling the string of your bath robe so it would fall open. He was quick to pull back so he could see your frame better. "You still like it?" You asked, and he was quick to nod. His fingers running up your sides to your breasts. Giving them both a light squeeze with a groan. "Baby, I never want you to take it off," he chuckled, and you both knew that was a lie. By the end of the night he'd have it ripped off you and in a pile on the floor.

His lips came in contact with your neck. Fiery touches that you would never get used to. Your own powers were controlled by the sun, yet this heat was always so unfamiliar to you. So nice.

"Peter," you sighed as he sucked on your skin. Your body jolting when his fingers pinched your nipples through your bra. "You're so gorgeous, you know that?" He asked against your skin. Licking over your collar bone. You chuckled with a nod, "You tell me all the time," "Yeah, well I don't say it damn near enough." You rolled your eyes at his comment, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. "Yeah, and I don't tell you how good of a boy you are for me enough, either," he let out a grumble of a moan against your skin. It was so easy to rile him up, you loved it.

"May I?" You asked, ghosting your fingertips over his shaft, and he nodded. "Words, Peter," you demanded, and he shuddered. "Yes... Yeah, please," he mewled, and you snickered. He was already a mess.

You shrugged the robe off, allowing it to fall to the floor to give his hands more access to your skin. Your hand quick to reach between your lovers legs and grab him. Giving him a slow stroke before stopping to squeeze the base. His head fell onto your shoulder. A sigh leaving his lips while he gripped your hips.

"I need you," he called, "God, I need you so bad, don't tease me," he cried a little, and you had half a mind to listen, but you didn't want to. You had other plans for the night. You wanted to draw out this time you both had together for as long as you could.

"No," you purred, and the whine that he let out was heavenly. "Now, don't pout, Petey," you purred, "be a good boy for me and I'll reward you," he nodded frantically. He just wanted you to carry on and do something. Anything.

When you started to drop to your knees he felt his heart stutter in his chest. Everywhere your hands grazed as you slid down to the floor was on fire. At this point he couldn't tell if it was from his excitement, or if you were doing it yourself.

Your hand stroked his shaft a couple more times. Peter watching with excited eyes. His thighs shaking while he fought the urge to thrust forward.

"You can touch me, Peter," you told him, and he nodded. His shaky hands coming to tangle in your hair. One staying on the top of your head while the other came to cup the side of your face.

"Will you be good?" You asked, and he nodded. "I know you will," you hummed, kissing his hip. Listening to the moan that left his throat just from having your lips so close to where he wanted you the most. He craved you to the point that it hurt.

When you did finally reach his cock, the noise he made was unreal. Your eyes darting up to his with warning. One of his hands shot up to cover his mouth. A soft 'sorry, my love,' falling from his lips. He truly didn't mean to be as loud as he was. He could never help it. He prayed that one day the two of you could find a babysitter for Mayday so neither of you had to hold back as much as you both did.

Your head bobbed and he felt his knees shaking all ready. His brow knitting together while his chest began to heave. He couldn't take his eyes off of you. You were like an angel. On your knees, committing sin. The thought made him shudder. A hum rumbling from his chest while his head lolled to the side. "Feels so... Good," he purred, and you hummed in response. The vibration sending a wave of pleasure through his body. Both hands shooting to the top of your head so he could stable himself. His mouth slightly parted while his vision grew blurry from the tears that pricked the corners of his eyes.

"God, like that, shit," he spewed out words. You knew he was close, even if you couldn't sense it like he could sense your own approaching orgasms. You would know from how many times you've made him cum in your relationship.

You didn't allow him to, though. Another groan leaving his lips while he buckled forward. His hips thrusting forward a little in an attempt to chase your mouth. "Dammit, I was so close," he slurred, and you chuckled. Leaving an open mouthed kiss on the side of his cock. "I know, and you did so good for me baby," you purred, and he whined. He had such mixed feelings for your praising tease. He loved it, but he also despised it.

"How about I reward you now?" You asked, looking up to your lover with a grin. He was quick to nod in agreement. Licking his lips while he waited anxiously for what you had to say next.

"You wanna fill me up tonight?" "You have no idea," he practically growled. The sound of his voice. The switch from whiny to damn near feral. It went straight to your core. Your breath hitching as he helped pull you to your feet. Pushing you back until you were on the bed.

He fell on top of you. Caging your body with his own. Something seemed to snap in his eyes and it excited you more than taking control over him. It wasn't often that you let him be in complete control, but right now. All you could think of is what he had said in the tub.

"You still want your head between my thighs?" You asked, and his eyes were quick to meet yours again. A smirk pulling at his lips while he stared down at you. "I'd live there if I could, baby," you both chuckled a little at this, but you both knew it was true, too. There were some mornings that you'd wake up to his head between your thighs. Eating you like you were his last meal on earth. He'd just give you head if you'd let him. He never really expected anything in return from you.

He lips crashed down onto yours. A kiss that had you both gasping for air when he was done. Teeth on teeth that led to his tongue exploring your mouth.

His hands were on their own mission. Scaling your body. Taking in every dip and curve that you had. Memorizing you like he did every other time he touched you. If he didn't have any other responsibilities, he could stay in this position with you forever. Touching your body while kissing you with fervor.

One of his hands cupped your breast. The other resting on your thigh. His lips finally parting from yours with a string of saliva still connecting you both. A smug and dreamy smile on his face. "I love you," he hummed, and you giggled. "I love you, too," you told him, and his smile grew. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have you.

His lips trailed over the top of your breasts. Kissing and sucking. Leaving little marks on the soft skin. His hand on your thigh sliding up your body so he could take both of your breasts in his hands. Squeezing and toying with your sensitive mounds of flesh. Your back arching with soft noises that left your throat. Every sound that you made only fed his ego more than it did before.

His mouth replaced one of his hands. Mouthing over the thin fabric that his your nipples from the air. Saliva wetting your skin through the fabric. A sharp inhale coming from you when he nipped your sensitive skin. Your fingers gripping his shoulders while he teased your body. He knew what drove you crazy. Just like you knew what drove him crazy.

His free hand trailed down to your panties. His hand cupping your sex with a moan. He could feel how hot you were down there and it drove him wild. His middle and index finger running over your mound. Feeling how wet you were through the fabric of the lingerie. It was intoxicating him. Just as much as his touch was intoxicating you.

His mouth switched over to your other breast. Biting the flesh while he pushed your panties to the side to slip his middle finger inside of you. A gasp leaving your throat while you tugged at his hair. "Pete!" you snapped, and he grunted, "'M sorry, you're just so good," he moaned against your skin. His now free hand reaching behind you to undo the bra that kept him from your bare skin. Gibing him the chance to abuse your nipples without the fabric in the way. Though, it didn't last long before his mouth was trailing down your stomach. Leaving wet kisses on his way down.

Once he met your clothed sex with his face he felt himself growing impatient. Nudging your clothed clit with his nose. "You're so pretty like this," he sounded drunk. He practically was. Anytime he had sex he was. He was intoxicated by you. You were his perfect drug.

His fingers hooked your underwear. Pulling them down your legs and tossing them to the side. Peter blew on your sex. Keeping your legs apart with his strong grip. "Stay still for me, please," he asked, looking up with pleading eyes. Though there was a hint of command behind them that had you clenching around nothing. You only nodded your head in agreement, which had him smiling.

He was quick to get to work. Licking up your slit. Your breath hitching while your fingers tangled in his hair. His hips bucking down into the bed to try and gather some sort of friction for himself.

He licked at your sensitive bud. Licking and sucking until you were squirming and on the verge of tears. Biting the back of your hand to hold back the cries that tried to bleed from your mouth.

"Taste so good," he rambled. Reaching a hand down to push two fingers inside you. Curling them up, then dragging them out. Slipping the digits past his lips to take a taste. Moaning around his fingers before slipping them out. "Heavenly," he sighed, before diving in once again. Lapping you up like a dog.

It wasn't long before you were summing on his tongue. You told him you were close, but he knew. Only abusing your clit until you were convulsing underneath him. If it weren't for you pushing his head away, he would have made you cum again, too.

"Peter, please," you cried, and he looked up from between your legs. "Just one more time," he tried to plea. Leaning down to lick your clit again. Your body jolting at the overstimulating feeling. "Peter, if you aren't inside me in the next ten seconds I swear to God," you snapped, and he smirked. "All right, all right," he chuckled, kissing your stomach before pulling himself up so he was positioned between your thighs.

He moved above you for a moment or two. Just staring down at you with those adoring eyes. You hated how he looked at you sometimes. It made your heart ache and wish that you had met him sooner than you had. He always made you feel so special and so loved.

"I want another kid," he blurted, "Maybe a little boy, he could have your eyes," he daydreamed out loud, and you nearly laughed. Yet, you couldn't. You only stared back up at him. Hearts practically in your eyes while you reached up to cup the sides of his face. "Only if he has your smile," he chuckled at your words. Leaning down to nuzzle your nose with his. "Is that a yes to baby number two?" He snickered, reaching down to rub your stomach. He was obsessed with you, and he couldn't get over the thought of you carrying another one of his kids. He was already crazy for you, but seeing you pregnant with his child? It did things to him, and you knew it, too. He wasn't shy about it.

"You like being a mommy?" He hummed, and you nodded, "Only for you," you chuckled, and he snickered. "You're a good one too. So loving, caring, rewarding," he winked with the last word, and you rolled your eyes. Swatting his chest. "Peter," he shrugged. "You are, I'm glad you are, too. Mommy. It's a good title for you," He cooed, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.

"Peter, it's been over ten seconds," you reminded him, wrapping your legs around his waist. Bringing your hips up to meet his. The both of you shuddering at the friction. "All right," he sighed out, but instead of pressing himself inside of you like you wanted. He pulled away from you. A frown settling on your lips. "What?" "Hands and knees, now," you stared for a second. It never ceased to surprise you when he ordered you around, but you never really complained about it either.

Once you were maneuvered around he was quick to pull you closer to him by your hips. Leaning down to kiss the dip of your back. "Gonna fill you full," he murmured against your skin, rubbing the tip of his dick along the slit of your sex.

"Shit, Peter," you wined, leaning down to lay the side of your face on the bed. Peter let out a moan at the position you put yourself in. Ass in the air, face in the sheets. You were gorgeous.

He hushed you, biting his lip while putting his fingers against your lips. You sucked them into your mouth and he swore it was one of the hottest things you've done.

When he pressed inside of you, you both fought to stay quiet. Peter was practically falling apart above you. The thought of fucking a baby into you had him harder than he had expected. His hips giving a few testing rolls to make sure you were wet enough. Only moving when you gave a nod.

His thrusts were slow at first. Rolling against you with rhythm. Until they weren't. Until you begged him to move fasted and he had to listen to you.

Both of his hands were on your hips now. His own hips thrusting in and out of you at a past that had your whole body trembling. You pawed and gripped at the sheets. One of his hands keeping hold of your hip while the other reached for one of your hands. Intertwining his fingers with your own. Even while he was fucking you dumb he showed so much affection for you. It was almost overwhelming.

Peter leant over you. Pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade while he panted and moaned in your ear. The sound of skin on skin echoing in the room. The faster he got the further you got smothered into the bed. He was chasing that high that the both of you craved. When he felt his approaching, he was quick to reach between your thighs to rub your clit with the speed of his thrusts. Bringing the both of you to the highs that you desired. His hips slowing while he rolled out his orgasm and rubbed out your own.

Peter lay limp above you. His chest heaving on top of your back. One hand running up and down your side while the other squeezed and rubbed at your hand.

"One more?" He asked, and you chuckled. "Your libido's too high for your own good, Peter," you sighed, and he chuckled. Pulling out of you which caused the both of you to groan with distaste. "I'm not hearing a no?" He questioned with a brow raised. Helping you roll onto your back. "One more," you told him with a nod, and he grinned. "Maybe two?" "Pete, don't push it," you giggled, reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck. Peter laughing into the kiss he gave you.

#peter b parker x reader #peter b parker #peter b parker smut #spiderman #the amazing spiderman smut #the amazing spider man #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #marvel #marvel smut #minors dni #notsfw

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asterias-record-shop · 11 months

Note

♫ 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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urrockstar-xe · 6 months

Text

i'll be right there, sweetheart - tasm!p.parker x fem!reader

posted nov 4th, 2023 12:50 am

i wrote this with one of my closest friends :D i needed andrew!peter and i needed comfort! i hope u like it as much as we do :)

summary: when reader gets into another argument with her brother, she needs her amazing spiderman to come and save her

masterlist

wordcount: 1.2k

“Can I come over?” your hushed and choked tone of voice had Peter standing up from the building ledge he had been sitting on, in seconds.

“Stay put, baby I’ll come to you, where are you? At home?” His voice was rushed but you could hear it fine considering the whooshing of the wind was heard in the background,

he was already swinging to your place.

“No, no, Pete, I need to come to yours I don’t want to be home right now, I got into another argument with my brother I just wanna see you, is that okay?”

Peter’s heart nearly stopped at the sound of your choked sob as you spoke, crumbling at just the sound of you crying, he was already worrying about the sight.

“Of course it's okay, sweetheart, I’m gonna come get you though alright? Meet on the roof?”

Through sniffles, you mumbled back a barely coherent “okay” to Peter as you had already started making your way to the roof of your apartment building, sighing at the sight of your spandex-clad boyfriend swinging through the city, still too far from you to hang up.

“I’ll be right there, sweetheart, just wait for me okay? Hey! Look at that I see you! I mean i think, you’re still a little far” You couldn’t help but giggle at Peter’s words, you could practically hear his smile when you laughed.

“It’s me, Pete” you responded, walking closer to the edge in hopes it would make the wait seem shorter.

“Yeah, it is, I know m’girl when I see her, I’m right here baby, I’m comin'” his constant reassurance of coming to be there for you had your heart swelling and almost willed more tears to form in your eyes as you hung up the phone when you saw that Peter was only a building away.

And there he was, his mask was tugged off the second his feet landed on the rooftop floor, hair messy and face red from the cold as he pulled you into a tight embrace, “I’m here baby, told you I’d be here” he mumbled into your hair, setting his hand on the back of your head as you sobbed into his shoulder.

“I’m just so tired of the same fight, Pete” you cried, the words Peter had only ever read through text messages after you had similar situations like this but none to the point where you needed to get out of there.

“I know, honey, I got you” Peter rubbed your back soothingly, pressing a few sweet kisses to your hairline before squeezing your frame once more. “Freezin' out here, let’s you get back to my place, yeah? May made meatloaf for dinner” you giggled into his shoulder, sniffling as you pulled back to put your arms around his neck and brace yourself to swing through the city.

“I hate meatloaf” you quietly said into his neck as he gripped your waist properly,

As he put his mask back on, Peter chuckled, “I know you do, honey”

Without warning Peter started swinging, it was worse when you had a warning, gave you more time to overthink it and Pete definitely wasn’t risking that tonight of all nights.

He could hardly feel your grip tighten but you felt his tighten every time he shot a new web until finally, he reached his window

This was the tricky part, getting inside his room with you in his arms, it typically ended in you hitting your head or Peter tripping the second he got inside, but this time he was as careful as he had ever been as if you were fragile, delicate, and at this point in time? you were, not that you’d admit it but you didn’t have to admit it with Peter.

he just knew.

Peter carefully slid the window up, helping you get your feet in and stand up straight before climbing inside himself, once more taking his mask off but it was soon followed by his entire suit as he rushed around his room to put on sweatpants and a hoodie. You just stood there for the most part, other than closing his window so he wouldn’t freeze while he was half-naked and running around for clothes.

Any other time you’d make yourself at home, settle into his bed, even stroll downstairs, and say hi to May, but again, this time was different, you felt like you couldn’t move, not without Peter’s help anyway.

Peter of course caught onto this quite fast which was why he was so dead set on rushing back to you as fast as possible even if you were both still in the same room, the old Midtown High hoodie was barely over his head before he had swooped you up back into his arms and laid you down on his bed, nearly crushing you with his body weight.

Your hands found his hair in seconds, to anyone else this looks like you’re comforting him, but to you, this is exactly why weighted blankets exist.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asked quietly, gently running his fingers up and down your arm.

“No, thank you”

Peter took note of the way your voice was still so quiet as if you would burst into tears again if you spoke any louder, “Okay, baby”

He sat up just enough to see your face in full, ever so careful, he wiped the few remaining tears from your cheeks, along with the dried streaks that had been caused by the cold wind.

“Did you eat? I can make you somethin?” you just shook your head in response before pulling him back down closer to you, “no? Okay, okay this works too” he mumbled into your shoulder, then he suddenly gasped as if he just remembered something.

“What happened?” You asked, concern in your voice as he sat up, ignoring your question you watched as Peter quickly untied your Converse and pulled them off of your feet, carelessly tossing them somewhere in his room before he laid beside you, this time pulling you into him, running his fingers across your shoulders and entangling your legs.

Peter was once again thankful for the prototype web shooter he had been too lazy to move from his nightstand as he used it to shut off the light without getting up from the comfort of his bed or your arms.

You two laid like this in a comforting silence for a few moments, Peter rubbing your back, your hands repetitively moving from his side and to his chest, he kept thinking you’d pull back to say something but you never did.

Not until after a few more minutes and you sighed, getting your boyfriend’s attention once more.

“What is it, baby?” he whispered, as if speaking any louder would ruin the moment you were sharing.

“I don’t know,” you whispered back, sounding unsure, Peter frowned, but he let you continue before commenting. “Thank you for coming to get me” was what you settled on for now.

A billion things ran through your mind, all different ways to show your gratitude for Peter but all that came out was a simple thanks, not that Peter minded.

“‘M just glad you’re okay” he whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to your head.

“I just don’t know what I’d do without you” You sighed once more after you spoke, gripping the material of his hoodie.

Peter smiled, “It’s a damn good thing you don’t have to worry about that then huh?”

Moving his hand down to your thigh, he moved it completely over his own, bringing you impossibly closer.

“I’ll always be right there, sweetheart”

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

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mgparker · 2 years

Text

moment of forever

[tasm!peter parker x reader]

sequel for scared to breathe

part i | word count: >6k

summary: months after the events of the multiversal battle, you’re stuck in an endless loop of helplessness and isolation. when seeking help from the person who started it all goes extraordinarily wrong, you find yourself in a different universe all together… with no way home.

warnings: sequel to scared to breathe, f!reader, sad feelings, MOM spoilers, long intro before peter content, fluff, injury, fast-paced with lots of time skips, more like a series of important little events, fast-paced romance, some another chance easter eggs, mostly edited

i won’t lie. this is a bit too quick for my taste and it’s all kinda shoved together. lots of little events in between each scene are excluded for the sake of giving both reader & peter a happy ending. but if you’d like to see more of the in-between stuff, i’d be more than happy to create their own little world. oh and also sorry for the long doctor strange intro, it was necessary. anyway, here’s some fluff .

Despite your exhaustive efforts to figure out why the world especially hated you, the answer just wouldn’t come.

Not even as you cried in your tiny apartment, fingers pulling at the ends of your strained hair painfully, lungs desperately searching for air.

Why, why on earth were you, of all people, the only one who was exempt from Strange’s stupid spell? Is there a reason the universe spared you the mercy of being oblivious to the starving pain that would come from being separated from everything you once knew?

Granted, the sorcerer’s spell didn’t erase all previous connections from your life—even the ones that were created due to Peter Parker’s important role in your growing years—but it definitely caused a strain on all the important ones.

Ned, MJ, hell even Happy…

Because try as they might, they could never really explain how they came to know you—only that they suddenly just did, influenced by a moment in their life that was shadowed by a cloud of darkness and mystery.

Yes, Peter Parker may not have been the only person in your world that you cared about, but he was damn well responsible for most of the other relationships that you held dear.

Without him, you would’ve never befriended Ned Leeds or Michelle Jones. You would’ve never interned for Tony Stark or wiggled your way into Happy Hogan’s secretly warm heart.

Without him, you would’ve never gotten into this situation in the first place… but you couldn’t blame him. You couldn’t hold any ill-will towards the teen, not when every cell in your body longed to leave your apartment right now and go searching all of New York City for him.

Why were you the only person who could remember Peter Parker?

Not only that—why did you still dream of the other Peter Parker that you met what seems like years ago? (In reality, it’d only been a few months).

It wasn’t fair. It simply wasn’t. And it especially wasn’t fair that you had no solid way of finding either of them.

The tears on your cheek were starting to dry. And your desperation was starting to drive you insane…

Your last option had been running through your mind for a while now, the thought popping into your everyday thoughts sporadically throughout the last few weeks until you had no choice but to finally entertain it.

It couldn’t be the wildest idea to exist—people had done crazier things before, right?

And as you wiped at your face and stood up from your creaking bed, you were determined to finally see it through.

177A Bleeker Street was even more daunting than it was last year; the Sanctum Santorum hanging over you menacingly.

But it wasn’t enough to deter you from your plan; you took a deep breath before raising your hand to knock—

The door swung open suddenly. Your hand fell forward along with most of your body before you caught yourself embarrassingly.

“Jesus,” you sighed, heat rushing to your cheeks as you tried your hardest not to glance back at the fellow New Yorkers that were rushing down the street behind you. Like they’d really care, honestly.

“Not Jesus.”

“Wow!” You practically screamed, one hand flying to your chest while the other flew around aimlessly, desperate to put distance between you and the unexpected voice. “Okay, that was uncalled for.”

Doctor Stephen Strange stood at the top of the grand staircase, reminiscent to a few months ago when he’d greeted you, Ned and MJ before everything went to shit.

In his usual sarcastic fashion, one eyebrow raises carefully. “What’s uncalled for is you showing up at my door without invite.”

Someone’s in a bad mood. “Yeah, sorry about that, we aren’t exactly buddies, and I couldn’t just dial you up so—” His outfit caught you off-guard, a pristine suit and tie replacing his usual sorcerer attire. “What’re you wearing?”

Strange rolled his eyes. “What are you doing here?” He pointedly ignored your question.

The compliment you were ready to give died on your lips, a glare replacing your original response.

“I need help fixing a mistake that you made.”

“’Mistake that I made?’” There’s a hint of a smile on the man’s face, but it isn’t a happy one.

You realized how bold you were being. “Y-yeah.”

“Let’s get something straight,” Strange began, slamming the door shut behind you with a flick of his finger. “The only mistake I made was inviting three children into my home and effectively ruining any privacy I might’ve once had.”

Definitely in a bad mood. Maybe you should take a different route.

“Sir, I’m aware that showing up here unannounced wasn’t a good idea but I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Irritated, Strange shut his eyes and sighed.

He could think of a hundred reasons not to hear you out, but something tells him it might actually be important. After all, it was his initial spell that nearly caused the destruction of the multiverse. Even if the last spell was successful and Spider-Man’s identity was concealed from everyone’s mind, including his own, there still could be some loose ends he could’ve forgotten to tie.

“Can you walk fast?”

You’re flabbergasted. “What?”

“Can you walk fast? I’m in a bit of a time crunch.”

Realizing this might be your only chance, you jumped at it frantically. “Yes—yes, I can. Super fast.”

Adjusting his watch, Strange jogged down the steps and towards the door. “Talk to me on the way.”

Without hesitation, you set off after him, hot on his trail. “On the way where?”

“Wedding.”

“You’re getting married?” You gawked stupidly. Thankfully, he’s walking ahead of you.

Strange scoffed. “I wouldn’t be late to my own wedding.”

A quip sat at the tip of your tongue, but he continued. “It’s not too far so I would get to the point if I were you.”

“Right,” you matched his quick pace. “A few months ago, you cast a spell that was meant to erase the identity of Spider-Man from the entire world.”

“Yes,” he agreed roughly.

You cringed in anticipation. “Let’s say your spell didn’t exactly work.”

Your walk was brought to an abrupt halt. You whipped around to face Doctor Strange and the look on his face was deadly.

“Excuse me?”

People dodged your bodies left and right, traffic building up on the busy sidewalk.

“I know who Spider-Man is still and—”

“Stop,” his palm flew up. “Don’t say anything.”

“But I—”

“Don’t—”

“Just let me—”

“No—”

“I’m not going to tell you who he is!” You said over his protests.

It became silent.

“You know who he is,” it was more of a statement than a question.

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Did you happen to remember this out of the blue or—”

“There was nothing to remember,” you said matter-of-factly. “You see, I never forgot. At the beginning, I thought the spell would take some time to settle in, so I tried to shrug it off. But then days turned into weeks and everyone else has moved on but me.”

Strange adjusted his suit, peering around the street as he tried to regain a bit of composure. Out of all things you could’ve told him, he certainly wasn’t expecting this.

How is it that you, a girl with no extraordinary abilities (that he knew of), resisted the effects of an advanced enchantment? One that even infiltrated his enhanced mind…

“Alright, kid,” you were back to walking down the street, following Strange who had a strange pep in his step. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to come to this event with me. You’re going to pretend as if you don’t exist and then we’re going to figure this whole situation out after I’m done.”

You cringed at the idea of sitting through a stranger’s wedding. “Are you sure I have to go to this wedding with you? I could always stop by the Sanctum tomorrow—”

“No,” he said sternly. “I’m not so sure you understand. This shouldn’t have happened. We’re going to talk to Wong and we’re going to figure out why you have the ability to withstand a universal spell.”

And that’s how you ended up at a stranger’s wedding. A stranger who you later found out was Strange’s ex-girlfriend, who he clearly hasn’t gotten over—you had a keen eye and a knack for observation.

In all, the entire ideal was extremely uncomfortable, your jeans and t-shirt sticking out like a sore thumb in the crowd of elegant invitees… It wasn’t until a loud crash had all of the guests tripping over themselves to squeeze onto the balcony, chaos erupting on the streets of New York City.

Rusty from months of zero superhero action, you weren’t quick enough to reach Doctor Strange before he was throwing himself off the balcony dramatically, cape billowing behind him and leaving the group gasping at his heroics.

“Damn,” you muttered, backtracking until you were at the staircase, taking two or three steps at a time.

Staying at the wedding was likely the safest option, probably the option Strange would’ve preferred, but it had been too long since you’d been involved in crimestopping. The superhero itch was too intense to ignore… This was your element.

…Nothing could’ve prepared you for what you’d find once you busted through the doors onto the Manhattan streets.

A one-eyed octopus was tearing through the concrete, smashing into buses and buildings with an eye set to kill. Heart racing in your ears, you followed its line of vision onto… a girl?

She couldn’t have been much younger than you. Jet-black hair thrown up into a ponytail, a denim jacket slung over her shoulders, white sneakers that had seen better days.

Jesus.

Frantically, you looked for Strange and within the destruction, a flash of red was weaving through the running crowd. Clearly, he had the situation handled.

Without a second thought, you made a beeline toward the girl, jumping over concrete slabs and dodging overturned cars until you were feet away from her.

Fire raced through your legs. If there’s one thing you’ve gotten from this, it’s that you needed to run more.

“Hey!” You heaved, hands waving as you pushed on.

The girl’s head snapped toward you, fear stretching her lips into a deep frown. Her chest was rising as quickly as yours.

“We gotta get out of here! Let’s go—”

The ground disappeared beneath your feet, your lungs freezing as a slimy tentacle wrapped around your sore leg.

You were screaming bloody murder, possibly ripping through your vocal cords as the street got further and further from you. You were damn near close to soaring above the buildings beside you.

Pain tore through your back as you finally slammed into the balcony of a building next to you, your leg being released, forgotten by the octopus as it focused back on the girl who looked like an ant from your height.

Icy fear froze you to your spot, clutching at your throat. Since falling from the Statue of Liberty, heights had been a tricky thing for you.

A sweat broke out on your hairline, and you dared to close your eyes. There was no way down from here.

Any peace you could’ve found was quickly obliterated when your building was rattling again, the monster slamming into the balcony once more until the girl was a foot away from you.

Before the monster could end both of your lives, Strange was back on his feet again, leading it away.

You turned toward the girl. “Hey, that—that was a close one,” you attempted to joke. Turns out you spoke too soon.

The slab of concrete collapsed, sending you both sliding down the side of the building, meeting halfway in a crash of limbs and shrill screams. Frantic brown eyes found yours before everything around you was suddenly spinning, your vision surrounded by an array of colors. The two of you were falling feetfirst into a… a portal?

“Ah! What the hell?” It was the first thing you could muster, heaving from the impact of the cold, damp sidewalk.

Though your body protested, you pushed yourself onto your knees, trying to find the denim-clad girl who had fallen with you.

Except she was nowhere to be seen… and this wasn’t the New York you’d left behind.

Here, the sun was nearly gone, darkness shadowing the corners of the alley you found yourself sitting in. The lights of nearby billboards reflected on the rain drops of the concrete.

Something about all of this was off… Well, excluding the fact that your surroundings had magically disappeared and then reappeared again, only to find yourself in a completely different place than where you had just been a mere second ago.

What in the hell was going on?

Scrambling to your feet, you pressed yourself to the wall, pain shooting up your ankle as soon as you tried to put weight on it. Must’ve landed on it wrong.

You cursed under your breath, cradling your ankle as tears threatened to spill.

In fact, you were so caught up in your own agony that you failed to notice the shuffle at the end of the alleyway. Or the figure that had landed on the rooftop of the building across from you, crouched curiously.

Softly, it landed in the shadows, obscured from your vision as you continued to lament over your injured joint.

Awestruck, Spider-Man made his way closer to you. Everything in him was screaming that this whole thing must be a dream, a wildly vivid deception conjured up by the aching part of his brain that constantly longed for you.

But you looked too real, crouched over with your hair framing your pain-stricken face. T-shirt hanging over your shoulders as you mumbled undecipherable words. Even from his spot, he could see the chipped polish on your nails and the stained converse on your feet… Lord, you were even wearing the same necklace as the day of the Statue of Liberty incident.

A swell of emotions attacked him. Then, your name was leaving his lips before he could help it, his feet tripping over themselves in a clumsy matter. All to get to you before you could vanish before his very eyes.

Except this wasn’t a dream—you weren’t going to vanish—and you were really there. Breathing before him with flushed cheeks and curious eyes.

“Peter?” You breathed, recognizing the silhouette of the man even in the darkness.

Little did he know, Peter Parker from Earth-120703 also infiltrated your mind constantly, appearing in the form of sweetest dreams and fantasies (whenever you weren’t torturing yourself with nightmares). You hadn’t meant to let his short visit to your earth affect you so much, but there was something about him that you couldn’t shake off.

Tears welled up and he was quickly ripping the mask off, revealing his messy brown locks and shiny disbelieving eyes.

“H-how?” He was slowly approaching you now. All he wanted to do was wrap you in his arms.

You mirrored his look of disbelief. “I don’t know. I-I went through this portal and ended up here—oof!”

The dam broke as he suddenly pulled you in, legs tangling with his. There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation as you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him as close as humanly possible with an idiotically huge smile.

You never thought you’d seen your Peter again, much less this Peter. Happy couldn’t begin to describe the plethora of feelings rushing to your brain.

Beneath your grip, you felt Peter’s body begin to tremble. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

You pulled away the slightest bit, searching for his eyes and feeling your heart crack when you found the tears spilling down his red cheeks. “Peter…”

“I have to be dreaming,” he shuddered, closing his eyes softly.

You smiled. “This is real, Peter. I’m here… somehow.”

He didn’t answer, only tightening his grip around your waist. It began to drizzle, rain trickling over your intertwined bodies, but it didn’t dare ruin the moment of bliss between you two.

“Honestly, I’m not really sure how this happened… but what I do know is that I haven’t stopped thinking about you since December.”

Peter finally looked up, catching your gaze with a clouded look.

You were distantly aware of how little space existed between the two of you. “Say something,” you breathed.

Swallowing his fear, Peter sighed shakily. “I shouldn’t have left.”

“Peter, you had no choice—”

“I shouldn’t have left without telling you how much being with you meant to me,” he finished pointedly. Your gaze kept flickering between his intense stare and the lips you’d been dreaming about for months.

This was a fool’s game. Harboring feelings for someone you’d only known for a day, but you had felt the profound love he held for you—in his universe, yours and the next. Even in that one day he’d spent most of ignoring you. The last hour you had after the battle created a bond you were sure had been pulling on your heart strings until this very moment.

It was a fool’s game—loving someone who had loved a different version of you. But despite all of it, the universe had created your souls for each other, in this world and the next, forever bonded by the complexity of your hearts, sewn and meticulously intertwined only to fit with each other’s.

You pulled him into your embrace again, cuddling him in an attempt to soothe over any guilt or pain he felt from your sudden goodbye. “I understand. It’s so okay, I’m here now.”

“You’re here now,” he repeated into your hair shakily. His hands held you like glass.

It’s funny—how adamant he was on not meeting your eyes, not talking to you, hell not even touching you all those months ago. Now, it was like he couldn’t get enough.

The cold, distant Peter you met was gone. And your own behavior was surprising you— it was a mixture of the relief of escaping your months-long isolation since the spell gone wrong, and the feelings that were blossoming slowly but surely.

A sharp sting reminded you of your pressing injury.

“Peter,” you hissed, trying to divert the weight off your leg.

“What?” He seemed unnecessarily startled, pulling away from you as if he’d been burned. His frantic eyes searched your body.

“It’s my ankle,” he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten how you were hunched over in pain. “I think I sprained it when I landed here.”

In a series of clumsy movements, Peter’s mask was securely placed over his face again and he was crouched in front of you funnily.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. Even with the mask, you could imagine the eyebrow raise Peter gave you as he spun to look at you. “I can take you to my place. We can check it out there…”

You didn’t mean to hesitate. Since you had been thrown into this new world, your brain had been moving in slow-motion.

“If you want, of course! There’s-there’s a hospital a few blocks down. If you want, you could get it checked out by a professional because I—” a nervous laugh escaped him. “—I’m obviously not a doctor. Of course, you’d want to get it checked out by a doctor. Sorry, that was stupid—”

“Hey!” You laughed. “I don’t mind getting evaluated by Bugboy. I happen to trust you more than anyone anyway so…”

You’d said it so casually, but to Peter, it meant everything.

He stared at you for a moment too long before clearing his throat awkwardly. “Well, then it’s decided. Back to my place we go. Fair warning, I’m not the neatest person.”

You hopped on his back without an ounce of grace. “I don’t mind.”

You’re a clean freak, Peter thought quietly. Of course, you mind.

But he discarded it to the back of his mind, focused on getting you to a safer place.

“Hold on tight, sweetheart.”

And then you were swinging the streets of Manhattan, soaring over bridges and buildings until you were landing on the fire escape of a Queens apartment. High above the ground, definitely on a double-digit floor.

For once, the height didn’t scare you.

Peter wasted no time in retrieving a first aid kit as soon as he’d gotten you both through the window. You could barely make out the layout of his bedroom, disoriented from how fast the hero was moving.

Peter crouched in front of you, dropping to his knees as he gently pushed you back onto his bed.

You hit the comforter softly, holding yourself up by your elbows as you peered down at the suit-clad man.

He poked and prodded at your swollen ankle, drawing out a long hiss through your nostrils as you fought the reflex of kicking him away.

Smoothly, he reached into the first aid kit and took out a large roll. Wrapping it around the joint firmly, he looked up at you through his eyelashes.

“Good news—it isn’t sprained.”

“Great,” you sighed in relief, falling back onto the bed.

“But it could hurt to walk for a few days.”

You threw a thumbs up. “Awesome.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. I don’t have classes for a few weeks so it all evens out.”

A few weeks? Did you want to stay in this world for that long? Did you really have a choice in the matter? Did you even want to go back?

It barely took any contemplating for you to realize that you didn’t. Doctor Strange was clearly in over his head with all the ruckus happening at his doorstep and he couldn’t have looked more clueless when you told him of your predicament this morning… you wouldn’t be surprised if the sorcerer had no clue how to fix the issue… and at this point, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to.

You hadn’t realized that forgetting your Peter would also mean forgetting the one who had just patched up your swollen ankle. Not that your Peter didn’t mean as much to you (in all honesty, your years of friendship with him meant more than anything in the world) but the growing bond with this universe’s Peter had transcended the barriers of space and time…

That had to mean something. You felt it.

Still, you couldn’t help the slightest twinge of guilt. I mean, you had technically landed in his universe uninvited. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

It was stupid to say, but you couldn’t help it.

Are you kidding? Peter gawked. He didn’t dare utter it out loud though. “It’s no imposition at all,” is what he settled for instead. Because he knew you, down to your very core. He could read you like a magazine.

The sincere look in his eyes was all it took to ease your hesitance. “Thanks,” you smiled bashfully.

Before he could stare at you in awe any longer, Peter stood up with the first aid kit in hand. He moved to put it away, but he was stopped by a sudden grip on his hand.

It was your hand, small and warm in his. Curved and carved in familiar lines that he’d spent hours and hours memorizing when he once had you in his arms…

Frozen, he waited for your next move.

Wobbling, you pulled yourself up until you were nearly chest-to-chest with Peter.

It was still and quiet for a few moments.

Now that you were so close to him, your mind went blank.

“Um—” his eyes darted from your eyes to your moving lips. “What… what year is it?”

Wow. Out of all things you could’ve broken the tension with, the only question that comes to mind is the date. You instantly want to bash your head into a wall. It’d been too long without any Peter Parker interaction; you were beginning to lose your touch.

It seemed like a bucket of cold water fell on Peter’s head. The anticipation in his gaze melting into amusement. “It’s, erm, it’s 2015.”

Your jaw dropped, leaning back to sit on the bed again. “Are you serious?”

Your grip on his hand didn’t waver. Truthfully, you weren’t sure why you got up in the first place—you just didn’t want him to leave your side yet.

“Yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck with a chuckle. “Imagine my surprise when I landed in your world.”

The first aid kit clattered at the movement, uncomfortably hitting his shoulder. Getting a grip, you finally released his hand.

“Right…” you murmured, watching as he went to store the kit underneath the bathroom sink. There was a hesitance in his step, as if he too didn’t want to linger far from your presence.

He sauntered back over to you. Sitting crisscross-applesauce, Peter gave you a smile that made your heart stop.

“So… what have I missed?”

It was a bit strange at first, you had to admit, but eventually, you and Peter fell into a routine.

Well, it was more like you had assimilated into his routine… staying at his apartment (though you definitely had the choice of leaving if you wanted to) without complaint and attempting to chef up whatever you could with the sparce ingredients Peter picked up from the grocery store.

When you weren’t cooking something, you found yourself tidying the small space up, despite the man urging you to rest your ankle.

It’d been days, almost a week, and your injury was on the precipice of full healing. The only word for Peter’s behavior was doting.

It was only the seventh night of your arrival on this strange world that you and Peter finally moved past the awkward roommate stage.

It was late… or rather early in the morning. The clock read 3:27 AM, the LED lights flashing behind your closed eyelids from how many times you’d checked on it throughout the night.

Peter had arrived twenty minutes ago from his Spider-Man duties. The shower was on, the only sound in the apartment and you found yourself hyper fixating on it.

Sighing, you dreadfully thought of how he would open the bathroom door, hair damp and eyes weighed down from the lack of sleep. How he’d smile at you brightly despite it, and wish you a goodnight before softly closing his bedroom door and quietly making his way to the small couch in his even smaller living room.

It made you feel like a burden, even though Peter did everything in his power to make sure you felt like anything but.

Reassurances could only work for so long.

Which triggered the same discussion every morning—you’d tell him you were more than happy to take the couch and he’d endlessly argue against it.

Tonight was going to be different.

Your eyes squinted against the light of the bathroom, the door opening slowly. Steam poured into the room and along came Peter, shaking out his messy hair.

As usual, his tired eyes lit up when he saw you sitting up against the bedframe. Even with the messiest bedhead and crumpled t-shirt, you were the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

God, he never would’ve thought you’d be in his life again. The multiversal incident was something out of his wildest dreams, an instance that should’ve never happened, a blip in the timeline of the universe… but God, was he glad that it happened.

Otherwise, he would’ve never known that you were the same here and in every universe, with a spirit as shiny as gold and as bright as the sun.

You were his sun.

Dragging his feet to the door, he began to give you his usual goodnight.

“Wait,” you cut him off.

He did just that, hand hovering over the doorknob expectantly.

“If you won’t let me sleep on the couch,” you swallowed down your nerves. “Why don’t we just share the bed?”

Silence.

“I just hate that you’re out there and I’m in here so I thought there’s more than enough space… if you want.”

More silence.

You overstepped, of course you did. That’s the only thing you could gather from the impassive look on the brunette’s face. An apology was at the tip of your tongue, regret staining your ears red.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Peter protested. Still, his hand slid off the doorknob.

“It’s your bed,” you pointed out.

“Still,” Peter shook his head. “I don’t mind the couch. Really. It’s more convenient too, you know—”

“More convenient than your own bedroom?” You chuckled, realizing Peter was as nervous as you were.

In all honesty, he couldn’t want anything more. He longed to close the distance between you constantly. When once your touch practically burned him in that small supply closet in Midtown High’s lab, now it was all he could think about.

Fear held him back. The fear of getting too close and then losing you again. The fear of falling even more in love with you because it scientifically just couldn’t be possible. Loving someone any more than he loved you would surely send him to the hospital.

But you were staring at him with glistening eyes, cheeks flushed from embarrassment, but still letting the corners of your lips curl into an anxious frown.

“It’s just that… ever since that night—when I fell off the Statue of Liberty—”

Every muscle in Peter’s body seized up, eyes shutting on instinct. Endless images of your falling body replayed like a broken record.

“—I haven’t been able to sleep. Every night, I’m right back there. Falling into a bottomless void—” your voice cracked and you quickly cleared your throat. It was pathetic to cry about something that had already happened. Especially when the person in front of you had experienced it before, twice.

“I’m sorry,” you gathered your bearings. “If I’ve crossed a line…”

“Absolutely not,” breathed Peter, eyes glistening with unshed tears. With that, he finally gave into his desire, rushing toward you before you could break down entirely.

Arms wrapped around your waist, the bed sinking with his weight, and you finally let yourself feel.

It was a mixture of fear—no, terror—and comfort. The sensation of falling again but being caught in the arms of the person you trusted with your life. Peter had saved your life and you knew he’d do it time and time again.

So that’s how you fell asleep that night, pressed into the crook of Peter’s neck.

You barely heard it, but as you drifted off, a quiet whisper was uttered with a gentle press of lips against your forehead.

“I won’t ever let anything happen to you. Never again.”

You were happy to find that every night after was nightmare-free, instead replaced with dreams of your happiest moments growing up in Queens. Flashes of your friends in Midtown, giggling with Ned, Peter and MJ. Memories of the last moment you had with Peter, who was quickly becoming your favorite person, at the bottom of the monument of your original universe.

The two of you were slowly becoming more comfortable with crossing more boundaries, tangling your limbs together in bed or wrapping each other in a hug whenever Peter would return home from his Spider-Man duties.

It seemed like he couldn’t get enough of you, a stark contrast to how he’d acted the first time you met him. But the bandage had been ripped off and things were different now. He had a second chance to make things right with you, to not commit the same mistakes he once had.

You were his second chance.

Though you were constantly fretting over pulling your own weight around the place, Peter felt like you were doing too much. After all, his home would always be yours.

So, it’s how he ended up taking a night off from patrolling to instead gather all the ingredients for your favorite dish. (At least he hoped red pepper pasta was your favorite dish, everything else he’s known about you has been consistent in both universes).

When you woke up from your nap that evening, seeking the delicious smell that was wafting in from the kitchen, your heart melted when you found Peter at the stove. Dashing between the counter and the sizzling sauce on the burner, he had never been more handsome.

It was pathetic really, the speed it had taken you to cross the small distance between the bedroom door and where the hero stood.

But it didn’t matter. Because you had one single thought in your mind—one that had been floating around for weeks now in the back of your head—and it took over.

A sound of surprise escaped Peter when you crashed into him, spatula crashing onto the ground forgotten. You wasted no time in tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him close enough that his shaky breath hit your lips.

You sought permission in his eyes, searching until he gave you his answer. And it came faster than expected, the tiniest of nods bringing his mouth closer to yours before Peter pressed his lips to yours.

Slightly chapped but a sensation that turned the spark in your belly into a full-blown fire… uncontained and wild, burning through every emotion until all you could feel was unconditional love.

A feeling you didn’t know you were searching for all your life until you ended up in this precise moment, wrapped in the arms of someone who loved you more than the moon loved the stars and the sun loved the moon.

You pitied those who wouldn’t find a love as extraordinary as the one you’re consumed by… because you’ve said it again and again but only just realized the raw depth and truth to these words— the universe had created your souls for each other, beyond the voids of space and time, destined to intertwine infinitely until the world ended and another began… It was destiny that had brought him to you the first time.

And fate that would have you sharing this moment of forever in a small, dingy apartment in Queens.

hey! missed you all <3 i’ve had about 10 peter parker drafts in my computer for a few months and they’re finally coming together.

hope you’re all doing well & much love to you all<3 feel free to send me a pm with any updates or rants or requests. i’m aware that there’s a good amount of requests i never got to. don’t worry, i didn’t ignore them. i’ve just lacked inspiration to write for so long and i’m still not quite confident in my ability to write in a style that i genuinely like. still, tumblr makes me extremely happy and i love interacting with all you readers and creators.

anyway, that’s all for now.

— elle <3

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