#tasm andrew garfield

[lostalioth]

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐛𝐬

→ premise: peter needed to test how strong the new formula for his web shooters is so why not get his gf’s help, and have a little fun with it. its not like he had millions of other more scientific ways to test its strength.

→ pairing: tasm!peter x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, bondage [with peters webs], fingering, small edging, peter possibly ooc, nicknames [baby, princess]

→ a/n: kinktober 04

Sure Peter had plenty of other ways he could test out the strength of his newly formulated web fluid. But you were just so eager to help your boyfriend out, always asking him if there was something you could do. Sewing up gashes and holes in his spider suit, patching him up after a fight, etc. So why not enlist the help of his pretty girlfriend instead of testing it out the same old boring way he always did. Of course being unaware of his little scheme you innocently and sweetly said yes when he asked if you'd help him out with an experiment. That was how you ended up in Peter's bed, hands restrained together and stuck to the headboard with his webs.

His body was currently nestled between your spread legs, eyes roaming your body before fixing on your face. Your lower half is entirely exposed, the breeze from his open window nipping at your skin making you squirm. “This wasn't what I thought you meant when you asked for help, and I said yes Peter” you whine and buck your hips into his touch as his hands roam up your sides, rubbing and caressing your body. You can feel the cool metal of the singular web shooter strapped to his left wrist. “Oh this is fully what I intended when I asked baby, tug all you want, squirm all you want” he coos as he uncovers your breasts by pushing your shirt up to reveal them. “Need to test how strong the new formula is” he explains softly as his right hand falls between your open thighs, middle and ring fingers nudging open your slit and rubbing through your folds. Slick immediately collecting on the tips of his slender fingers.

With a sharp intake of breath you twist your body and try shifting your hips away from his hands. His free hand that has the web shooter aims towards your writhing leg and shoots webs that wrap your ankle tethering it to his foot board. “You sure this wasn’t what you intended, princess? You're so wet for me” he emphasizes his tease with a tilt of his head, smirking softly as his two fingers push at your hole.

You whine and push your hips back on his hand trying to get them inside you, your hole clenching at the small intrusion. “I missed you Pete, you've been so busy” you explain and look through your lashes at your boyfriend hovering over you, your eyes full of longing and love. “Awww well i'm here now baby” he leans down and presses his lips to yours just as his two fingers push knuckle deep inside you. You let out a short surprised moan against his lips as you kiss back greedily. You tug at the webs around your wrists, hands desperate and itching to touch Peter. “Keep tugging baby, try your hardest, you can do it” he mumbles into your mouth, his words both encouraging and mocking before humming when you whine in response. Goosebumps rise on your skin from the pleasure, his free hand coming to pin your hips down holding them still.

Pumping his fingers in and out of your leaking cunt, a sloppy squelching sound filling the room along with your muffled whimpers and moans. “Fuck!~” you let out a plaintive cry and pull away from peters mouth when his thumb is added in, stimulating your clit. Rubbing small circles on your bundle of nerves as his fingers speed up their movement, making your mouth fall open and your head fall back against his pillows. Your hands tug as well as your leg at his webbing, the action doing nothing to tear or unstick it. A heat spreading through your body, you liked this idea of him tying you up with his webs more than you could’ve guessed, the heat settling and growing in the pit of your stomach.

“Come on baby, i don't think your tryin’ hard enough to break out” he taunts as his long fingers find that spongy spot deep inside you and start abusing it, the rough pad of his tongue speeding up its circles. “Gonna have you cumming before you break the webs princess” he chuckles softly and leans down to kiss along the exposed column of your neck. Your head goes fuzzy from his mouth on you, his fingers ruthlessly thrusting inside you, the feeling of him all over you. “Can’t- I can’t do it Pete, i cant break em’ fuck- please baby im gonna cum!” you whine and cry out, your eyes squeezed shut as you teeter on the edge of your climax.

He grabs ahold of your chin and moves your head up the movement forces your eyes open, you stare into his deep brown eyes, his pupils blown.

“Not yet baby, the experiment hasn't gone on long enough, need to see if they break” his voice comes out sweet yet concedesing as he crashes his lips against yours to muffle your wanton moan.

Truthfully Peter had gotten enough information from all your squirming and pulling that he figured it was strong enough, he was just having far too much fun playing with his pretty girlfriend.

→ a/n: i havent written for tasm!peter in a bit so I feel like he’s possibly out of character ? Idk I felt rusty when writing him

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

“pretty picture”

pairing: bf!peter x fem!reader

summary: you and peter make a sex tape… hehe

word count: idk, i wrote this in 20 mins on here and it’s not proof read

warnings: smut ofc, p in v, praises, pet names, sex tape made, swearing, kissing yada yada

i hope you enjoy this, it would not leave my mind, i had to write it- i’m so sorry if it’s messy and there’s mistakes :):

“i’m nervous pete..” you giggled softly, watching as he propped up his phone on his dresser- across from where you lay in the sheets. “oh baby there’s nothing to be nervous about, you’re such a natural. don’t you wanna show the world what a pretty girl you are?” he smirked, pressing the little red button on his screen. you watched yourself in the frame, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, resting up on an elbow. “you’re silly.”

“do you really not wanna do it baby? we can stop at anytime, i promise. just wanna make you comfortable.” he murmured gentle as he walked over to you, his large body towering over yours, covering you from the camera. you peered up at him with those doe eyes that drove him wild, his hand slipping down to cup your cheek, stoking your skin softly.

“no, no i want to. youre sure i’ll be okay?”

“i promise baby. don’t even worry about the camera okay? just focus on me.” you nodded, pushing yourself up to sit as he kneeled on the bed, lifting your pj shirt over your raised arms.

“such a pretty girl. you’re a movie star.” he whispered, staring down at you in awe, as if you were an angel who had blessed the earth with your presence. as if he hadn’t seen you naked a million times. your cheeks heated under his hungry gaze.

“m’not, you’re the film director… you know more than me.” you giggled, your words sealed with a soft kiss upon your lips, tasting of fresh mint. you fell back into the pillows, his lips never leaving yours as his strong arms engulfed you, shielding you from the outside world.

“yeah, eyes on me. it’s just you and me baby okay? gonna make you feel so good, just how you like it.” he praised, kiss trailing down to your neck, giving a little nip at the exposed flesh as you withered under him.

“mmm pete-“ you trailed off with a sigh as lips kissed your breasts, teeth grazing and nipping your nipples as he teased you. your hips bucked as his hands explored down past your mid drift, tugging off your sleep shorts. “we can’t get too crazy on the first video now can we?” he smirked, eyebrow raising as his knee slid up, pushing your legs wide open.

“m-more?” you asked. “hmm, some for my own personal collection. ya know, when you’re away and i’m all alone, missing you, with my hand wrapped around my cock…” he hummed, his dirty words making you groan.

“you’re so bad.”

“and you’re so pretty. pretty and wet f’me.” he tsked, his cock brushing past your folds.

“don’t tease.”

“don’t tell me what to do love.” he whispered, tossing your legs over each shoulder, making you yelp in surprise. he slid home, filling you right to the brim. you moaned, back arched and toes curled at the feeling.

“baby- fuck this never gets old. this pretty pussy never-“ he slid out, thrusting back in firmly. “-ever gets old. so-fuckin-tight.” your eyes widened, meeting his as he fucked you deeper into the mattress.

“gimme a kiss baby.” you obeyed, hands cupping his cheeks, teeth clashing as your lips meshed with his. not once did his pace falter. you moaned into his mouth, crying at the pleasure.

“yeah fuck baby. you do make a pretty picture.” he groaned, breaking the kiss to look over at his phone, watching the way he contoured you.

“so, fuckin, pretty.”

[alexispunkkk]

stress remedy

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

- pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

- summary: after some stressful times with school, peter surprises his pretty girlfriend with some flowers

- warnings: basically nothing, just pure fluffy! some kissing + mentions of stress

- word count: 1.7k

- author’s note: hiii! my first tumblr fanfic ever. requests are open, i’ll be doing mostly peter parker and andrew garfield.

—————————————୨ৎ

Your boyfriend has a busy life, and you truly have no clue how he even manages. Balancing you, schoolwork, his internship at Oscorp, and being a fucking superhero?

Obviously, that’s far too much for many people. But Peter Parker isn’t just anyone — he’s your sweet boy, the one that does it all. Even with all of his duties, the poor guy still is the most perfect boyfriend in the world.

Between the stress of school and work and whatnot, each day is beginning to feel longer and longer. Days were dragging on into colder winter nights, rather than the fun nights in the summer where you and Peter had as much time as you could ever possibly want.

You almost had no time. Coming home from school or work, you’d go right down for a nap, wake up for dinner and homework, then go straight to bed. The only thing keeping you awake for the few dull hours was your wonderful boyfriend.

Tonight was the same: half asleep in bed, your cat cuddled up to your side by force and threatening to escape the cuddles. A few sheets of homework on the desk, obviously undone, the TV on instead.

Peter knows you’ve been having a tough time at school, he’s the most adorably observant person you’ve ever met. And even with all of his own seemingly never-ending issues, he managed to put you above them all.

Your cat finally wriggled out of your arms and leaped out of the bed, scrambling under it at the sound of a knock on the window: Peter’s signature knock, to be exact. Before you can react, the tiny double-tap knock is accompanied by a gorgeous — maybe just slightly crumpled — bouquet of flowers.

They’re strung up by an all too familiar web, dangling down off of the upstairs neighbors’ Juliet balcony.

You felt like such a princess whenever Peter gave you such a dramatic arrival, dangling flowers and snacks or swinging in to surprise you. Only to be more princess-like, you scampered over in your dainty pajama set to the window, opening it and resting your arms delicately on the chilled windowsill.

Your chin soon joined, settling down on top of your forearms adorably, the stupidest grin plastering across your face when Peter finally swings down and takes the flowers off the web.

“Hi, spidey.” You giggled and stood up, opening it further to pull him inside with no effort to be careful.

“Hi, sweet girl.” He beamed back and stumbled into the bedroom with a chuckle, that all too familiar boyish grin crossing his own pretty face.

In seconds, the two of you became a tangled mess of limbs. The flowers were quickly discarded onto the desk, a quick web shooting from his wrist to shut the window and stop the chilly breeze that was slowly infiltrating the room.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you right up into your favorite spot. Your body was suspended up into the air, rested so perfectly flush against his own.

With the quiet giggles and kisses exchanged, your sour and tired mood was forgotten faster than anything.

The familiar feeling of his cold hands traveling under your shirt and across your back was intoxicating as usual, making you want to melt right into him and stay there forever, to forget about all of your worries and just be with him.

Your mind was just Peter. Peter, Peter, Peter.

“Got you a gift. Thought you might need a little pick-me-up with that midterm you’ve got coming up.” He backed up to carefully set you on the edge of the soft bed. The feeling of your head tucked so deep into the crook of his neck and his scent going straight to your heart was quickly missed, but he’ll be back soon enough.

Peter grabbed the flowers off the desk and jumped right onto the bed, earning a playful giggle from you.

“Yeah? When’d you have time to pick those up?” You scramble the second he’s laid down, crawling up the bed to accompany him.

His hands glided up your waist like silk, squeezing your sides under the pretty little lace tank top you’d chosen for pajamas tonight. It was an instinctive behavior for Peter, and you were settled in his lap in no time. No matter how often he touched you like this, it’s always as equally electrifying.

“May or may not have stolen them on the way home from Oscorp tonight.”

Once you were cuddled up in his lap, his hands moved toward your head without thought to card through the locks of your hair, pulling you closer with a quiet, domestic hum.

His words earned a snort from you, exhaling heavily while you settled on top of his body, head instinctively finding its favorite spot in his neck.

“Wow, how special am I? My boyfriend steals me flowers.” You joke, pressing the softest kiss to that sweet spot behind his ear.

In return, his hands moved up your shirt, the tip of his thumbs just barely ghosting the bottom cup of your breasts.

“Shut up, I just wanted an excuse to see you. You’ve been so holed up recently at home.”

Your eyes roll and your arms tighten around his neck, scoffing and feigning annoyance.

“I have not been holed up, thank you very much. Just … studying?” You laugh and shift in his lap, reaching across his now warm body to grab hold of said stolen flowers.

They were pretty, just maybe slightly crumpled up. But that’s the Peter Parker charm: everything had to be a bit messy when it was coming from him.

“Yeah, studying. How’s that going?” He snickers back, running one strong hand up through the top of your hair to expose your face that he was so enamored with.

The feeling of a gentle kiss to your forehead melted your heart like usual, making you both soften up and quit with the teasing.

“Not good,” you sighed, slumping back down and going all limp on top of him, your nose faintly brushing his jawline. “I haven’t done any of my homework. I’m so burnt out.”

Peter’s own face softened at that, looking down at you and brushing more of that hair out of your face to get a proper look. To his suspicion, your faint eyebags looked … well, a little less faint.

“You’ve gotta get some rest, then, baby.” He sighed and brushed his own nose into your hair, pulling your head under his chin to rest there while one hand stroked down the base of your neck.

You opened your mouth to protest, but you knew fighting over things like this with Peter never gave you a win. As much as you love him, he’s so damn insistent — he won’t let you do anything if it’s not all beneficial for your mental health or whatever he’s going on about.

“Fine. I’m not gonna fight you tonight.”

Your hands quickly work down his body, tugging at his belt in an attempt to get it off. He helps you work it off quickly, climbing out of bed for a moment to discard his jeans and coat to get comfier.

You only whined a little bit when he got up. To be fair, both of you were awfully clingy, not just you.

“Good, you’re not touching that laptop again. Not after that essay you spent all of our time on the other day.” Peter says, and the second the clothing hits the floor you pull him back down with a quiet giggle.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

He’s tugged nice and close quickly, so perfect against your body. The comfort of your bed has warmed his body up and he’s just in heaven with you wrapped up in his arms.

“No, don’t wanna go to bed.” Your face turns into a pout at his comment, stuffing right into his neck like always. “Let’s just talk. Get my mind off of school. Please?”

As convincing as you attempted to be, the yawn threatening to pull at your lips and the clingy nature you only fell into when you’re really tired gave you away.

“Baby, c’mon. Look at you. All pretty, but exhausted.” He cooed and chuckled, stroking the back of your hair to pull your head back under his chin the way he likes.

Quiet, protesting giggles escape your mouth, but when he keeps trying to pull you closer you’re on the verge of giving in.

At the sound of your constant stubborn whines at the simple thought of going to bed, Peter knows he’ll have to step it up.

“Come on. I’m not gonna be able to sleep myself if I know you’re stressed out. Let’s go to sleep, sweetheart.”

The gentle tone of his voice and slight puppy eyes urged you further and you truly can’t help it in that moment. A sigh escaped your mouth and you reluctantly moved closer, pulling the covers over the two of you.

“Fuck off. Fine.” You yawned once you finally allowed yourself to, letting your body go limp against him.

“There you go. Just close those pretty eyes, yeah? They look heavy.” He whispers, making sure the comforters are over you in every spot, not letting a sliver of skin exposed to the cold air when you could be snuggled with him.

Your protesting let up every time Peter whispered in your ear, the sweet words setting your mind right into a sleepy state. Little “love you’s” and “I’m right here’s” were so quick to ease your mind every time, even at your most stressed state.

“So easy to bribe.” He chuckles against your head once you’re asleep, pressing a last kiss to the top before shutting his own eyes. “G’night, baby. Love you. Always.”

[spiderfunkz]

─── ⋆ STAR-CHEEKED

pairings. peter parker x fem!reader

cw. tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, peter has freckles.

author’s note: i go and i come, and it's summer so my tumblr obsession is blossoming again. if you have any requests feel free to send me them! i'd love to be active on here again :P

summer shined bright. it stung your skin with a kiss, leaving traces of sun all over. the light made your hair appear a lighter shade, your cheeks flushed every time the morning came by. there were marks of sand and shells around your back— all of these memories were photographed by none other than your lovely boyfriend. capturing every moment with a flicker and flash.

the car ride back to new york was bittersweet. a part of you were excited to see the lively city again, but nothing in there could compare to the beaches and sunsets you've experienced for the past few days.

and now, a gust of wind greeted you as you and peter step into your shared apartment. it's a pretty scene, not many words can describe the place specifically as it was all shown, not spoken. the polaroid's of the two of you hung low from the walls, there was two potted plants by a corner, the scent of peter's cologne and your perfume still lingers the air, and the fridge— full of alphabet magnets that spell out 'i love you' from peter.

after the chaos which is unpacking and dividing the laundry. you felt the peace of summer again. basking under the sun, the smell of sunscreen, frozen yogurts, spending nights awake reading and writing poetry— it's the best time to open up, vulnerability usually sparks during moonlit skies. and now, you're able to spend the rest of the day with peter while the blue sky is still bright.

"i think i have salt infused in my hair, d'you think i could wash it off with conditioner?" you ask, practically jumping onto bed. the window behind you illuminated patterns from the lace curtains— you swore it was the best purchase ever. "no, that just means you have salt-flavored-hair now," you could hear the sarcasm from peter's voice, it made you laugh either way.

he laid his back right next to you. you paused to admire him, sometimes you wonder if the earth pauses with you from how breath-takingly gorgeous your boyfriend is.

"i left my glasses," he hummed. you don't answer, your elbow rested on the pillow whilst your palm supported your head. your eyes don't gaze away from peter. "you're staring, baby," peter's voice was like a melody you could replay over and over.

"how could you tell without your glasses?" you tease.

the sun beamed through the peaks of your curtains. and like art, it highlighted peter's face so well. you notice the spots on his face. his freckles were more vivid than ever. usually they perk up slightly during winter, but now they're as clear as day. "gosh, you're freckles are so cute."

peter's hands shyly cover his face instinctively, "don't look!"

you giggle, your hands reach out for his— and as per usual, your touch melts him right away. "why hide it?" you pout, peter shook his head.

"you'll tease me!"

"as if i don't tease you about everything already?"

his hands reveal the flushed look of peter's cheeks. it made his freckles stand out more, you find it adorable. peter usually says otherwise— however, your words have a way of giving him solace and serenity. it was laced with sincerity, your cheerfulness sometimes mimicked the curiosity of a child.

"stop staring at me, you're making me all nervous," peter smiled, dimples showing. you liked being a flirt to peter, "they're like stars, like constellations, pete."

you trace his face gently. "all pointing home," boop-ing his nose.

home was never just a place with peter. peter was your home.

[reidslovely]

Idk fuckboy! (or slut!) Peter trying to get into readers pants but she's really really really introverted. And its not like she doesn't have a crush on him-she's just awkward :')

It was hard to miss her amongst the crowd. She was the only one pressed up against the wall sipping whatever godforsaken beverage was in the black solo cup. Peter had his eye on her the last couple parties, he had come up with two conclusions that fit whatever narrative he’d constructed for her in his head. 

The first was that she was miserable, gorgeous, but miserable. 

The second was that she had to at least know somebody at these parties to keep showing up and when Peter found out who it was he was gonna have to give them a ear full for leaving her on her own. Which is how Peter found himself in the position he’s currently in. 

“What are you drinking?”

The girl on the wall looks up to him, her eyes wide and in shock. He could practically hear the words and thoughts whooshing through her head. She was clearly stumbling over her thoughts as he spoke, patiently, he stared at her with a smile.

“Uh..sprite.” 

“You came to a frat party and you're drinking sprite?”

He teased with good intentions, knowing his own cup was filled with water. 

“Well..I-”

“I’m not judging, just want to know if i can get you a refill. I’m Peter by the way”

Her eyes switched from him back to her half empty cup. She nodded her head eagerly, mumbling out her own name as she followed him. Seemingly shocked when he reached his hand back to walk her through the crowd. Peter walked her over to the beverage table, practically standing on top of her guarding her from the crowd as he poured her more soda. 

“Do you wanna get away from the crowd? My room is right up the stairs.” Peter says quietly, his hand on the small of her back. 

She blew nervous air out of her nose, her hand resting on his forearm. “Oh I..I don’t- know.” 

“No or know?” He asked his hand pulling back slightly. 

“I don’t know?” 

Peter smiled at her reassuringly, wanting to ease whatever nerves she was feeling. “That’s fine? Outside then?” 

“Yeah..yeah- sure.” 

She spoke quickly, turning on her heel, her hand still holding onto his forearm. Peter smiled at her, moving his hand up to engulf hers with a tight squeeze letting her know she was good with him, noting the pick up in her heartbeat. What Peter couldn’t feel was what felt like butterflies erupting inside her.

[deniable-masterpiece]

EVERYONE SHUT UP

[wishful-sinful-9]

not to add onto my growing pile of wipsbut I've started working on a oneshot with brothers best friend!peter

In school, your brother was kind of a nerd and so was Peter so they ended up in the same friendship group, and you were a few years younger but slightly more adventurous and alternative in comparison to them, so you never really paid your brother's friends any mind.

then, you noticed Peter suddenly got hot in high school and you've had a budding crush on him ever since. but now you're older and you haven't seen eachother for years. you're a year deep into college and Peter's just started working at some big-time corporation.

you end up running into eachother at a club, and awkwardly avoid each other. then, later on in the night, he finds you absolutely sloshed on the curb outside, your friends having gone their own ways. you drunkenly admit that you dropped out of college and no one in your family knows. he leaves his friends to take you home and take care of you.

the following morning, he promises to not tell anyone in your family about your predicament as long as you let him help you out, as you're struggling to get by. from then on, Peter begins to look after you and feelings arise.

[verityasian]

TUTOR PETER PARKER BOT

[SUMMARY]

Peter’s supposed to be tutoring you but he can’t focus when you look like that.

Peter knew he was doomed the second you walked into the library like that — short skirt, tight little top, all casual like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. Or maybe you didn’t. Maybe you were just… you. Effortless and pretty and absolutely lethal to every last brain cell he had.

He was supposed to be tutoring you. Explaining equations. Helping you pass midterms.

Instead, he could barely string two thoughts together with the way you leaned in, your hand brushing his, your chest practically spilling out of your shirt every time you shifted to look at the notes.

He tried to look at the paper. He really, really did. But his eyes kept betraying him, sliding down, lingering way too long. His palms were sweating. His throat was dry. God, you were right there, smelling like vanilla and sunshine, smiling that slow, wicked smile that made his jeans way too uncomfortable.

He swallowed hard. Focus. Math. Not… whatever his brain was trying to do instead.

You tilted your head, looking at him with those wide, curious eyes like he was the only person in the world who could explain this to you. You didn’t even notice the way your skirt rode up when you shifted in your seat, and Peter, poor Peter, almost choked on nothing.

“Uh—so, um, you just factor it like this,” he stammered, forcing his eyes back to the notebook. He scribbled something half-coherent, praying you didn’t notice how red his face was. You scooted closer, reading over his shoulder, and your perfume — light, sweet, dizzying — hit him all at once.

If you leaned over him one more time like that, he was going to lose whatever shred of sanity he had left.

[jamjjamm]

Peter Parker

[madxyy]

Selfish

| pairing : peter x reader

| summary: your boyfriend comes home injured--as usual--late at night and you can't help but want him safe from his life as spider-man

| warnings: fluff, touching wrists (sigh, again), y/n used once, baby used, peter being cute and angsty as usual, reader also being cute, light angst

author's note: i am trying to write angst so bare with me lol

2 am. 

It’s always when you hear that faint knock on your window that makes all your worries wash away in a split second. But not today, no, today was different. You were waiting all night to hear that thud on the firescape or the cries of the window seal being opened. All night you were absorbed in your own anxieties and worries. Your hopes were dreading as time went by. You were getting scared for the local crime fighting hero and you did everything in your power to take your mind off it.

You really did. 

Drawing, watching tv, listening to music, cleaning the room—which was a bad idea as it just bought you a reminder of the boy who has your heart. You would stumble upon Peter's belongings that were scattered around your shared apartment like confetti: his engineering notes, his sweaters, his latest sketch of a brilliant idea he had to improve his spider-man suit. It only made your heart ache even more, longing for his presence and increasing your worries for your vigilante boyfriend. So you would take another route and try binge-watching a new season of a recent tv show you are watching, which would likely just be collecting dust in the column of ‘continue watching.’

Your mind keeps on going back to him. ‘He’s okay. He’s okay.’ You thought to yourself. ‘He’s coming back to me. He’ll be alright. He’s probably on his way right now. It’s just going to be a scratch, hopefully. He's going to be okay, right? Oh god. Oh god.’ 

As much as you love and adore that your boyfriend is helping the city and its people by saving anyone from another lab experiment gone wrong or from a dangling car that’s about to fall off a bridge, you can't help but wonder if he would ever take care of himself. It’s hard seeing him everytime he comes through your window with a new bruise on his keen jawline, a wound on his ribs, a scar on his hip. You couldn’t deal with it anymore. You wish he stopped just for his own safety. You know it’s selfish but is it so wrong to want him safe? Just the thought of turning on the news and seeing J. Jameson reporting: “Breaking News: Our local friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man reported dead by …” 

You want him back with you already, his arms wrapped around you, drowning you into his warm embrace, so distinctly Peter, while he whispers soft and reassuring words that always mend your heart. You long to hear his random facts about science, see his lopsided smile that always welcomes you back into reality whenever you wake up next to him each morning. You yearn for his contagious laugh that makes your heart throb in delight over the euphonious sound. You want to smile at the tics he does when he gets nervous or the way he avoids eye contact and scratches the back of his neck when he is stuck in an awkward situation. You want him to be back so you can smooch the newly embedded scars that are planted all over his body which you love kissing away everyday when he wakes up. You want to see his dimples that adorn his face when he smiles wide enough because he finally got his web shooters to work, followed by a triumph fist bump to the air. You want to see his eyes, oh his eyes: brown, soft, autumnal, brimming with love and warmth, despite the grief and cruelty he has been absorbed in. His scent, a mix of cedarwood and asphalt (due to his high-flying urban adventures). You want to see the way his hair sticks up in the morning whilst the sun gives it a mixture of honey and bronze aura, running your hands through the mused up tufts of hair, which always leads to the corners of his eyes crinkling up as a sleepy, boyish smile tugs up on his rosy lips. 

Selfish. You can’t help it. 

You waited as long as you could; staring at your window for who knows how long. Your eyes were trained on the window for a good while, but you couldn't help it, all this anxiety finally got to you and you were feeling drained and your posture slumps with exhaustion. Your eyes burn from keeping them open, and soon those same eyes start to slowly droop. Blinking back sleepiness proved futile; your head eventually settled onto the cool silk of your pillow. The material greets your cheek, making it easier for you to be welcomed into slumber. 

It was 4 am, yet your worries haven’t gone down at all. Your eyelids started to grow heavier, and darkness gradually enveloped your senses, until you heard a faint knock on your window, piercing the silence. 

Your heart leapt, and you twisted towards the sound. In an instant, sleep was gone.

Not even a second later you heard your window opening—mm the sound of the cries. Your tired, red eyes snapped open. You were met with a disheveled and drained Peter Parker. His hair sticking to the nape of his neck and forehead, sweat giving him a post-shower appearance. A large laceration marred his chest. Oh. Your stomach dropped, eyes widened with horror at the sight of the injury. It looked like he was scratched -- no, clawed by someone or something. With quick motion, you quickly peel away the sheets, disentangling yourself from its soft embrace, and quickly hurrying to his side.

“Peter” you gasped softly. A hand settles onto his latex-clad one, the other arm wrapping around his waist to support him as you guide both him towards your bed, placing him where you had lain just seconds before. “It’s not that bad, don’t worry about it, seriously, I mean you should see the o-” Peter quickly swallows his words upon seeing your stern glare. He slumps his head downwards as he sighs in defeat. 

You sigh, telling him quietly that you'll be back soon. You left him for a few moments before coming back with a wet rag. Gently, you tug at the suit, trying to cautiously take it off him without aggravating his wounds. Soon, you were met with his bare torso, which is marked with a huge claw mark. You mentally steel yourself before starting to lightly clean around the injury, dabbing the wet rag gently onto his toned chest as you avoid his eyes. It’s not like you were trying to make him feel bad, but you were also trying to cope with the situation. You don’t know if you were mad, relieved, sad, maybe all of the above? Uncertain emotions swirl within you, but one fact anchors your turbulent thoughts: he is here, safe, and alive. That's what truly matters.

Peter seems to catch your avoided gaze, he studies you for a few minutes. Biting the inside of his cheek as he purses his lips to the side, trying to figure out how to approach this situation. He takes in your furrowed eyebrows, the way you’re also biting the inside of your cheek as you put all your strength into avoiding his worried amber eyes. He knew the consequences of inviting someone into his dangerous life, it wasn’t exactly a warm and inviting embrace, nor was it appealing, but what he didn’t fully grasp is how it truly hurts you, in more ways than one.  “Y/N…” he whispered, rough hands that have been through so much and experienced so much, reaching for the comfort of your skin but you gently dodge his touch, leading to a sudden twinge of anguish in his heart. You give him a slight smile to distinguish any suspicion – I mean, you weren’t doing a good job at it – before you continued cleaning the dirt away from his injury. Peter’s eyebrows furrow while his lips start to droop downwards, a frown laid upon his lips at the rejection. 

Biting the inside of your cheek harder to stop the tears from flowing down the curve of your cheekbones. You keep on wiping his cuts clean, overs and overs again, getting flashbacks of his visits from the last time you had to patch him up. Blurred vision starts taking over your eyesight and all you can think about is his pain, what he goes through, his blood, the thought of losing him, life without him, the many ‘what ifs.’ The many times he almost visited death's door. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, it was like a burning sensation bubbling in the back of your throat, the sadness was too hard to keep buried down now. You started shaking and before you knew it your sobs filled the walls and all your fears were coming out of you in the form of a liquid pea that contained so much. As soon as the warm liquid left a path down the curve of your cheeks, peter panicked and rose to action just like the hero he is—your hero. 

Quickly sitting up and fixing his posture, which made him wince slightly from the injuries but he pushed through, his mind set on you and only you. He wipes the tear away with the pad of his thumb and takes the wet rag away from your slightly shaky grip; gently putting it on your nightstand before he lightly reaches both of his hands out and holds onto your wrists.

“I can't” You choke out a sob. 

“Hey shh it’s okay baby, what’s wrong? You can’t, what? Tell me,” He coos. 

He hunches down, trying to find those eyes of yours that he swears are otherworldly, but you just can’t. You can’t see him like this. Hurt. In pain. Suffering. It pains you that he is in this much pain -- you can’t. “Peter I just… ” he gently takes your face in his hand, caressing your cheekbones with his thumbs that are growing wet from your moist cheeks. His heart hurts from the sight of you crying, it conjures a deep-seated throb of pain in his eyes. “Look at me,” he whispers softly, gently nudging your head up with his right hand that is slowly descending down to grasp your chin as if you were a treasure, in a way you are, to peter you are his treasure, the main reason he even gets up or even tries, you are his rock, the only thing that makes sense in his life, and god does he love you, he loves you so much that his heart hurts. A quiet sigh escapes you, it sounds defeated. “Please,” He pleaded oh-so-gently, his gaze unwavering but patient. You sniffle before swallowing down a ball of saliva forming in your throat. As soon as you look up you are met with a pair of almond-shaped umber eyes that are filled with the utmost care, worry, and a hint of guilt. 

“Talk to me..” he whispers desperately, his heart crushing at the pain you are experiencing, he just wants to take it all away with his soft whispers but he knows they will be in vain. Shakingly exhaling “I can’t,” you frantically shake your head. “Please baby…” A few silent beats pass before you finally look back up to find those amber eyes looking back at you with nothing but worry and sincerity. 

You take a deep breath before swallowing deeply ”Peter...I just…” another beat passes. You take a sharp deep breath. “I just really wish you would take more care of yourself, I...I know you love saving people and fighting crime and trust me I love you deeply for that but you come home everyday with a new wound that’s even deadlier than the last one,” You pause, licking your salty lips. “aren’t you worried that maybe those people that you save won’t have anyone to save them if they’re local neighborhood spider-man won’t be there to save them anymore..?” You ask him, almost in a plea. Peter bites the inside of his cheek, thinking over your words with a solemn expression forming on his face that are littered in small cuts from his last escapades. He diverts his gaze to the floor and the room is quickly overcome with silence as he takes in your words, letting the heaviness of your words sink in.

The silence fills the room, it lets you both engulf into your own thoughts. Peter knew what it meant when he finally told you he was the unmasked superhero. He remembers spilling his deadly secret on a rooftop late at night, where you both were admiring the stars, laying on a blanket and talking about anything and everything. He remembers looking over at you and admiring the way the moon was cascading down on you, making you look even more angelic and completely ethereal. 

Peter looks at you hurt and guilty and god do you hate that. Both of you guys shared a gaze that held so much that it made the room feel denser as the distant sounds of ambulances filtered through the slightly open window. A breeze wafts in, brushes against you both, causing small goosebumps to prick up on your skin. Peter grew to learn from his past relationships and the impact it had on his partner knowing he was Spider-Man, which is why it hurts him to know he is the one making you feel like this. A calloused hand slowly creeps up, gently grasping your cheek with the utmost care, as if you were made of glass and he was scared of causing further harm. “I know, I know,” He murmurs, his voice breaking while his toughened fingers absentmindedly traces the curve of your cheek. “It’s just so hard to stop when I know I can make a difference.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat as his words sink in. Your heart breaks knowing how much his words are true and the scary reality that he won’t stop until crime is put to bed and everyone can roam around the streets freely. You shook your head, one hand gently grasping his wrist. “But at what price, Pete?” you ask ever-so-softly like the question itself was forbidden territory. Those eyes that he loves so deeply, look up into his eyes and it causes a gnawing feeling in his chest, almost making him wince from how hurt you look, how scared you look. Peter bites the inside of his cheek a bit harder while furrowing his brows, trying to think of what to tell you because he himself doesn’t know.

He takes a shaky breath, adjusting the grip on your face and slowly pulling your head a bit closer until both of your foreheads are resting against one another, a silent plea for understanding in his eyes. The brush of skin itself was tender-filled, telling a millions of words with just one movement. “I am just sick of all the crimes happening here and the cops not even doing anything about it.” Peter whispered, his voice a low blend of anger and helplessness. You could feel the raggedness of his breath, each exhale a testament to the battles he fought alone in the shadows of the city. The close proximity allowed you to see the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his eyes shuttered as if bracing against a storm of inner conflict. “Peter, I know you care – it’s one of the things I love about you,” you respond gently, reaching up to smooth a stray lock of hair from his clammy forehead. “But you can’t carry this burden alone. It’s too much for one person, even for Spider-Man.” Your voice was a soothing whisper, trying to pierce the armor of duty he wore so steadfastly.  

Peter simply nodded, the weight of the world momentarily lightened by your understanding. You saw the fortress around his heart crumbling, if only just a bit. His eyes, usually so vibrant and full of life, now shimmered with unshed tears, reflecting the constant battle between his duty and his love for you.

“I’m sorry…” Peter’s voice broke through the silence, each word heavy with remorse. He leans forwards, delicately kissing your forehead which grounds you and makes you close your eyes momentarily as you cherish the soft kiss that eases your heart just a bit. “I am sorry for not fully understanding what you are going through. I am so, so sorry,” He whispers into the dark night, the words flowing into the air as gently as ever. A few beats of silence pass while you take in his words. It gave your weary heart time to mend. Peter leaned back slightly so he could get a better look at you, his gaze locked with yours, conveying a depth of sincerity and vulnerability. “I’m truly, deeply, sorry” He whispers once more before he starts to softly press kisses underneath where your ear and jaw meet, your cheeks, forehead, nose, the wrinkles in the middle of your eyebrows, smoothing them out with the pad of his thumb, and finally kissing your lips, so delicately, it makes you want to cry even more. 

The kiss was so deliberate, it was a bundle of promises that his lips sealed to keep, an abundance of love, tenderness, deep affection and care that runs so deeply into his veins that it affects his touches and kisses, he can’t help but pour it all into the kiss, he just wanted you to know how sorry he is. He wanted you to know that he never meant to hurt you, whether it was indirect or direct. It makes your heart flutter and reassures your timid heart. Slowly one hand moves to cup the left side of your face as his other hand descends down towards the side of your neck as peter tastes the saline on your moist-tear lips, but even that doesn’t stop him from pressing gentle kisses against your lips, it only fuels his love, turning the kisses even more tender. Each kiss conveys a message of “I’m sorry, I love you, please know I love you.” You can taste the metallic on his lips as your lips were caressing his back as equally gently and lovingly, your kisses filled with a message of “It’s okay, I love you.” 

Peter slowly pulls back from the kiss, his mouth hovers over yours, his breath fanning over your lips, noses rubbing against each other in the tenderest manner ever. Both of your eyes were still closed, taking in everything, cherishing one another. His right hand moving back up to cradle your face, both hands cradling your cheeks and caressing them with the pad of his thumbs in a feather-like caress. You nuzzle your cheek against his right hand, feeling the rough and calloused palm that you grew to admire and adore. It always provided you with such care and comfort, always caressing or reaching out to gently touch you. Both of your hands now encircled around his wrist, caressing the inside of it so softly that it makes Peter almost melt.

Slowly, Peter opens his eyes. His amber gaze held nothing but love and the utmost care. Shortly after he opened his eyes, your eyes opened as well. Both of you search each other’s eyes as a white noise of admiration passes you both. After a moment of silent communion, the air between you both thickens with unspoken words and shared feelings, Peter finally speaks, his voice a soft murmur against the quiet room. “I can’t promise there won’t be more nights like this,” he says, his honesty laying bare the truth of both of your lives entwined with danger and uncertainty. “But I promise you, no matter how many crazy guys in suits I have to fight, I’ll always do my best to come back… to this, to us.”

This promise, simple yet profound, strikes a chord within you. It’s not a heroic declaration from Spider-Man, but a heartfelt vow from Peter Parker, the boy behind the mask, the one you fell in love with. His words acknowledge the reality of his life—danger is part of the package, yet he’s equally committed to your shared life, to you, and he isn’t going anywhere.

You feel a surge of mixed emotions: fear for the dangers he faces, gratitude for his honesty, and love for the person he is. “And I’ll be here,” you say, matching his tone with a blend of seriousness and affection, “not just to patch you up and be your personal nurse, but to love you.” The corners of his lips quirk up, his eyes twinkling with love as he takes in your words. He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, a silent vow of his commitment. “Thank you,” he whispers, gratitude resonating in his voice, “for everything.”

“Of course,” You whispered. 

The two of you stay like that, embraced in the warmth of your love for one another, finding comfort in the silence that now speaks volumes. The world outside, with its chaos and challenges, seems momentarily distant as you both cherish this safe haven of understanding and love you’ve created together.

[flightlessangelwings]

Ktober 2023 Day 25- Mirror Sex

Tasm!Peter Parker x gn!reader

Word count- 1.1k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), softness, voyeurism, lot of praise, aftercare, established relationship, no use of y/n

Notes- Oh this was was so fun to write!! And it's another personal favorite of the month as well so I hope y'all like it too!! And I purposefully made it a gn reader too! Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

~

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Peter’s voice echoed in your ear.

You sat in front of him, your legs parted as he knelt behind you, fucking into you slowly. Peter’s strong grip kept you upright, and you leaned back to feel the warmth and safety of his embrace. As your mouth dropped open from how good he felt rocking into you from this angle, your eyes fluttered shut and you lost yourself in the pleasure that was Peter’s touch.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as you reluctantly blinked your eyes open, but you gasped when you focused and noticed what he wanted you to see. You weren’t sure when he set it up, but a full length mirror sat at the end of the bed, and it framed where the two of you were perfectly. Even in the low light of the room, you saw both your figures clearly.

“That’s it,” he cooed as he thrust into you once, “Look at how beautiful you are.”

You moaned loudly and closed your eyes once more.

“Uh-uh,” Peter gently grabbed your chin and forced you to keep your line of sight on the mirror, “I want you to watch.”

“Peter…” you whined as you blinked your eyes open again. It didn’t go unnoticed that he didn’t move again until you did.

“See?” his tone was low as he kissed the side of your face, “Look how beautiful you are.”

You gasped when he thrust into you once, but harder this time. Your body almost jolted forward if it weren’t for Peter’s strong grip keeping you in place. As much as you wanted to close your eyes and enjoy the feeling of his cock inside you, you knew he would stop if you did. So, you kept them open and trained on his face as he watched you in the mirror.

“That’s it sweetheart,” Peter murmured as he rocked into you at a slow and steady pace.

Skin slapped against skin as both of you locked eyes in the mirror. From that though, you saw the fire that burned within his eyes with every thrust of his hips, and you felt the low mumble from deep in his chest against your back. You saw how his hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat and it only made him more beautiful to you. And then your eyes trailed down both your figures.

Between your legs, you could make out the distinct shape of his cock whenever he pulled out from you. And then it disappeared inside you when he thrust forward again, burying it deep inside you. The added visual made you moan louder as you clung to Peter’s arms.

He gritted his teeth as he felt you clench around him, and then Peter’s eyes followed yours. He watched for a few moments as his cock appeared and then disappeared with his thrusts. Then, he made a low, deep sound you had never heard from him ever before. And it sent a pulse of need right to your core.

“Fuck,” Peter breathed, “Look at us,” he thrust once more, “Look how you fit me so perfectly,” he thrust again, filling you to the brim.

“Yes,” you murmured as your eyes glazed over, “Peter.”

“Look how beautiful you look like this,” he caressed your chin where he still held you while his other arm stayed around your body to pin you against him, “Look how well you take my cock.”

“Oh fuck,” you moaned as a chill ran up your spine from Peter’s words.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he cooed.

You dug your nails into his skin, “Peter… Yes…” you moaned, “So good, Pete… I…”

“What is it?” he trailed a line of hot, sweet kisses along your skin, “Tell me,” he said as he met your gaze in the mirror.

“You feel so good,” you whimpered, “And I love watching you fuck me like this.”

“That’s it,” he turned your chin to kiss your lips for a moment, pausing with his cock fully inside you to taste you before he turned you back to the mirror, “I want you to see what I see when I fuck you,” his tone dropped impossibly low, “I want you to fall apart and watch yourself in the mirror.”

“Oh shit,” you cried out as he suddenly picking up his pace, pounding into you with fervor, “Fuck! Peter! Yes!”

“That’s it,” he purred again as he grunted, holding back his own climax.

The look on Peter’s face when his jaw clenched made you let out the most obscene sound and you felt your body heat up and your skin tingle, “Fuck, Peter… You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Cum, sweetheart,” he groaned, “Cum for me.”

“Peter!” you screamed his name as you fought to keep your eyes open as your climax hit. You trembled in his grasp as you came hard, your mouth dropping open to let out all the sounds that Peter loved to hear.

“Beautiful,” he murmured as he watched your every expression in the mirror. He saved off his own orgasm for as long as he could, but from the way you looked so delectable in the mirror, he didn’t last long.

With a low groan of his own and your name on his lips, Peter came just as hard, His movements stuttered as he lost control as came deep inside you, filling you up. He too had to fight to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss a second of the show the two of you put on for yourselves. Peter savored the gasp you let out as he filled you to the brim, and both of you exhaled sharply when you watched it drip down your legs.

A shiver ran up your spine as you felt both your releases slide down your skin, but you couldn’t move. You didn’t want to anyway, content in Peter’s strong grip. For a moment, neither of you could budge, both too entranced in the other’s eyes in the mirror. You still stayed connected together, and at the same time, your eyes both fell to that connection.

“That was so hot,” you breathed in awe.

Peter grinned widely and kissed your neck, “I told you to trust me,” he murmured in your ear, his eyes ever leaving yours.

“I do trust you, Pete,” you whispered as you broke the connection to turn and kiss him deeply, tasting him once more, “And I love you.”

He smiled against you, “I love you too, sweetheart,” he kissed the tip of your nose before he pulled away, “Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart.”

“You always take such good care of me, Peter,” you sighed contently before you let out a gasp as he slowly and carefully pulled out of you,

Peter shot you and apologetic look in the mirror before he gathered you in his arms again, collapsing both of you down onto the bed, “I always will, sweetheart,” he whispered, “I always will.” 

[you-have-a-metal-arm]

Moonlight Confessions

Pairing: TASM!Peter x Bestfriend!Reader

Word Count: 0.7k

Trope: Friends to Lovers

Warnings: Tooth-rotting amount of fluff

Summary: Peter’s always there for you when it’s hard. But this time, Peter’s the one making everything hard, until he doesn’t.

Author’s Note: Please do not copy or translate my work. English is not my first language, so please understand grammar or spelling mistakes.

This fic was in my notes for so long, and I finally decided to finish it. Enjoy!

The city lights of New York twinkled like a thousand stars, casting a shimmering glow over the sprawling metropolis. From the rooftop of an old brownstone apartment, the distant hum of traffic and occasional chirp of a night bird provided a soothing backdrop. You sat alone on the rooftop, your gaze fixed on the sprawling city below, lost in thought. The cool night air brushed against your cheeks, but it did little to soothe the weight on your heart.

It had been two weeks since you last saw Peter Parker. His absence felt like a void, amplified by the emotional strain you were feeling. The B on your recent test, while not disastrous, felt like a personal failure. And missing Peter, your best friend and confidant, only deepened the ache.

The rooftop door creaked open, and you turned sharply to see Peter stepping out into the moonlight. The night had cast a soft glow around him, highlighting his tousled hair and the warm, genuine smile on his face. In his hands, he held a bouquet of sunflowers, their bright yellow petals stark against the darkness.

“Hey, Y/N,” Peter’s voice broke through the stillness, carrying a note of concern and warmth. “Sorry it’s been so long. I thought you might like these.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as he approached, the sight of the flowers lifting your spirits despite the heaviness you felt. You took the bouquet from him, your fingers brushing against his. “Peter, these are beautiful. Thank you.”

Peter sat down beside you, the night casting soft shadows across his face. His usual playful demeanor was tempered by genuine concern. “So, what’s been going on? I’ve noticed you’ve seemed a bit off lately. Anything you want to talk about?”

You hesitated, the cool breeze making you shiver slightly as you clutched the bouquet. The B on your test wasn’t the only thing troubling you. It was the emptiness of missing Peter and the struggle to keep your emotions in check. You wanted to be strong, but Peter’s presence was a comforting balm.

“I—I’ve been feeling a bit down,” you began, your voice shaky. “My grades are okay, but… I’ve been struggling with other things. It’s hard to explain.”

Peter’s expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding as he reached out and took your hand. His touch was warm, a stark contrast to the cool night air. “Y/N, you don’t have to face this alone. If something’s bothering you, you can always talk to me. I care about you, and I want to help however I can.”

Your eyes welled up with tears, and you struggled to maintain your composure. Peter’s concern was more than just friendly; it was deeply personal and sincere. You had always admired his kindness, but tonight it felt like something more.

“I didn’t want to burden you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I know you’ve been so busy…”

Peter shook his head, his gaze intense yet gentle. “You’re never a burden. You’re my best friend, and you mean a lot to me. No matter how busy I am, you’re important. If you’re struggling, let me be here for you.”

Tears finally escaped your eyes, but they were accompanied by a soft, grateful smile. You looked at him, feeling a rush of emotions. “Peter, I—”

Before you could finish, Peter cupped your face gently in his hands. The moonlight seemed to make the moment even more magical as his lips brushed against yours in a tender, heartfelt kiss. It was soft and sweet, filled with unspoken promises and emotions that had been building up between you. When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours with a mixture of hope and longing.

“You mean so much to me, Y/N,” he murmured. “I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a long time. I care about you more than just as a friend.”

Your heart raced, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildly. The relief and happiness you felt in that moment made everything seem right. “Peter, I—”

He pressed his forehead against yours, his gaze never leaving yours. “Just know that I’m here for you. Whatever happens, you’re not alone.”

In the quiet of the night, with the city lights shimmering around you, everything felt perfect. You felt a sense of peace you hadn’t known in weeks. Peter’s embrace was a comforting reminder that, no matter what, you would face everything together.

Thank you for reading!

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

thinking about tutor!nerd!peter coming to your house for another study session… but things get steamy and he’s so gentle and mocks and coos at you with faux sympathy but he loves making you go all dumb and squirm for him…

——-

“oh dear..” he cooed at you softly as you perched up on your elbows to look down at where he was at the edge of your bed, fingers ghosting the pillows of your thighs. peter looked up at you, adjusting his glasses on his nose as you parted your legs more, letting him see whatever he wanted from under your skirt. he peered his head down, as if he were investigating, a smirk on his face.

“looks like you made a lil mess here angel. this all for me?” he asked gently, coaxing little noises out of you as his thumb pressed down on your clit through your panties, fingers circling the little wet patch. instead of studying calcus, like you had originally planned with peter as your tutor, now he was studying what touches made different noises. little gasps, or moans, or even silent little pleas that you squeaked out from his touch as he teased you, coming up to pin you down on the bed, hand never leaving its position between your legs. “you’re such a smart girl baby. but when i touch you, you go all dumb. why’s that hm?”

you moaned as he moved his hand away from your cunt and came up to pop his thumb between your lips, letting you suck greedily- little bits of drool coating his digit. “all dumb up n here eh? just need daddy to make you feel all good yea? do all the thinking for you.. my silly little girl.”

i’m going insane goodnight

[alexispunkkk]

baby fever

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

- pairing: husband!andrew garfield x fem!reader

- summary: seeing andrew with your friend's child and on screen with a daughter gave you a massive case of baby fever.

- warnings: unprotected sex, pregnancy mentioned, smutty as hell, nipple play/sucking, established relationship, rough sex

- word count: 3.1k

- author’s note: second fic on here omg i'm so excited! thank u for all the likes and reblogs or wtv they are called, i'm still trying to figure out this app lol.

—————————————୨ৎ

You’ve seen all of your husband’s films, and they didn’t usually get to you too bad. It’s perfectly fine for him in your mind to have an on-screen relationship or even sex with another woman for a film because it's all scripted, but his latest was truly different. 

Andrew’s newest work – We Live in Time – obviously both broke and softened your heart and made you sob an uncontrollable amount. Despite the somber nature of the film, the rest of it was utterly heartwarming and just so domestic.

Not just the relationship and marriage aspect, but seeing him as a father. A girl dad, if anything. 

The sight of him and Florence playing with and carrying around their adorable on-screen daughter did things to both your head and your body. Ever since watching the film at it’s first screening, you couldn’t possibly get the thought out of your head:

Andrew giving you a child, helping you grow life; Andrew being the most wonderful father to the beautiful little boy or girl that you hypothetically birthed. 

The baby fever tugged at your mind for a bit, but died down in the months following the film’s release. You thought it was gone for good, but it crashed down on you ten times harder than originally at the simple sight of your husband playing with your friend’s little girl.

Your ovaries were practically screaming at you in seconds, your body begging you to let him put a child in you. Nothing sounded better to you right now than being all pregnant and swollen because you knew you’d be carrying his child. 

Getting home from your friends, after seeing him be so gentle and caring with your friend’s child, you couldn’t get the thought out of your head. The two of you showered and got cozy for bed, and of course Andrew noticed the lingering sense of distraction or thought on your face.

“You okay?” He checked, taking off his Omega watch and setting it on the nightstand while sat on the edge of your bed, giving you a borderline concerned look.

“Mm-hm.” You nodded simply, turned over away from him on your side. The scent of his fresh cedar shampoo and that amber cologne he sprayed on after the shower filled the air, helping you sense him just as he began to slide into bed and cuddle up behind you.

A pair of strong, familiar arms slid around your waist from behind, his scruffy chin coming to rest on your exposed shoulder with a quiet sigh. 

“I know you too well, baby. You can’t fool me tonight,” He whispered and peppered a few gentle kisses to the cold skin in an attempt to get you opened up, his slender fingers moving under your tank top and tracing the skin of your stomach ever so gently. “You’re all distracted since we got there earlier.”

He was too engrossed in the scent of your hair and cold, soft skin to see what exactly it is you’re distracted by now.

It isn’t until he notices your phone screen that he realizes what your mind is so preoccupied with. He was about to speak and ask again but the second his mouth opened, he heard the quiet giggling of an adorable baby coming from your phone.

The open-mouthed expression crossing his face instantly morphs into an amused grin when he puts it together and sees what’s going on. He buries his face deeper into your neck, chuckling softly and mumbling just under your ear. 

“Sweetheart.” He starts, trying not to laugh. This isn’t the first time this has happened – he’s dealt with your extreme swings of baby fever from time to time – just not anytime recently. “What’s that? You lookin’ at baby videos again or just happen to be shopping for onesies?”

His comment earned a quiet snicker from you, getting all giggly and shy when he points it out and finally notices. You scroll to the next video, acting like nothing’s up, as if your entire feed isn’t strictly baby after baby.

“Just scrolling. It’s nothing.” You cheese to yourself, reaching down to take his hand off your stomach. You lift it up to your mouth, pressing soft kisses to his knuckles for that usual bedtime comfort. 

Andrew does nothing but sit there and laugh, letting you take his fingers and do whatever it is you want with them. 

“Uh huh. Just scrolling, I’m sure. Just a coincidence, then?” He sneers into your hair, inhaling deeply to get as much of your beautiful scent as he can. Even if his nostrils seem to have built up a resistance against it from smelling it so often. 

The baby videos catch his eye as well, he just can’t help it. Anyone would get a little soft upon seeing a video of the most adorable baby girl giggling away in a onesie. Plus, it’s crossed his mind recently, and he doesn’t entirely hate the idea of thinking about a baby soon.

You simply nod and keep quiet, immersed in the little world in your head where the cute baby on the screen is yours, and you and Andrew are taking perfect care of it. 

“Come on, I can practically hear the cogs in your mind turning. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.” He lightly grazes his cold nose against your ear, a shiver shooting down your spine at the proximity of his voice into your ear.

In a moment of hesitation, your body flips over to face him, the two of you becoming a tangled mess of limbs in no time. His hands instinctively wrap around your waist, resting on the warm skin of your lower back to tug you closer while he murmurs sweetly against your forehead.

“Looks like your baby fever is back, sweetheart. Written all over your face.”

He’s right on point with that, but you’re not ready to admit it just yet. The idea of having a baby with him is so highly anticipated in your mind but the conversation leading up to that decision wasn’t as simple.

“...Yeah.” You reluctantly agree, voice a soft whisper against his neck while his chin comes to rest on top of your head. 

You’re almost overwhelmed by the upcoming conversation but the feeling of one hand stroking down the back of your hair and the other tugging on your thigh to hike your leg up over his body soothed those nerves. Nothing ever has to be that serious with Andrew, he’s always able to calm you down and make even the most serious of discussions so tender.

“Yeah? Is this just, like, a quick baby fever phase, or something you’ve actually been considering? You’ve gotta talk to me, y’know.” He tried to be as gentle as possible to coax the not-so-easy answers out of you and figure out what you’re thinking.

You sigh and give him a soft smile, feigning annoyance and rolling your eyes at the question. But the mock annoyance doesn’t last long, as your head buries right up into his neck to inhale his intoxicating scent and try to calm down.

“I don’t know. I’m ovulating, I can’t believe anything my mind is trying to tell me about a baby.” You chuckle quietly, your nose ghosting against his jaw ever so softly. “I kind of… maybe want one.”

He sighs back, scratching gently at the base of your neck with his long fingers. “If it’s any help, I think you’ll be a great mom. The world needs more of your genes, too.”

The soft words and the tiny kisses you feel beginning to press against your hair send you in a complete 180. The hesitance was gone at the slightest touch of his fingers – possibly because of that previously mentioned ovulation – but also from the overwhelming urge to let him just fill you up and get you so pregnant.

“Yeah? You’d be the greatest daddy. It was all I could think about earlier when I saw you with those kids today.” You admit in a rushed whisper, letting go of all the shame and worries you had regarding the idea of a baby. “Seeing you with a little girl made me want you to fill me up so badly.” 

Andrew thought there would be a bit more of a serious discussion before this, but you seem to be jumping right into the fun part. The way your quiet voice and fresh breath ghosts over his throat causes a quiet groan to choke up in his throat, freezing him in place so he has to take a moment to collect himself.

“Hm. Can’t say I hate anything related to burying myself inside of you. Especially if it means not using any prophylactics.” He responds in equal fervor, the tiniest concern still bugging him so he just has to ask. 

“You sure, though, sweetheart? This is a huge decision to be making, we haven’t even talked.” He asks, voice getting quieter and shakier while you’re already tugging at his t-shirt. “Baby…”

His shirt is off in seconds and you’re on top of him before he even has a chance to breathe, your lips making heated contact with the skin on his collarbone. Absolutely no time is wasted before your own tiny tank top is off at the hands of Andrew, exposing your soft skin. Your nipples harden under his touch and the brisk air of the bedroom, earning a groan from the man underneath you.

“We can figure it out tomorrow morning if we regret it, I don’t care.” You gasp and try to inch closer, lips landing wherever they can while his hands work earnestly over the skin on your pretty breasts. “Want a baby in me. Just.. at least need to feel you finish. I’m craving it so bad, Andy.”

The previous gentle whispers and grazes are replaced with gasps and firm grasps at each other’s skin and clothing, getting everything off without a second thought. It’s like something possessed the two of you, the baby fever turning you into captivated messes for each other.

“I can do that.” Andrew chortled, pulling the sweatpants from your hips to leave you in the pretty pair of black panties that he loved so much on you. 

The weight of the shared decision hung in the air. Not necessarily heavy, but more grounding, like a reminder of the extraordinary journey you chose to step into with him. 

Once his boxers were off and discarded without a care across the room, your lips met in a fervent, sloppy kiss. In only a moment your tongue was stuck deep into his mouth, not just kissing him but sucking on his tongue in the lewdest, most vulgar possible way.

The eager and sincere sucking got a groan out from deep in his throat, pulling you back into the reality of the moment. Your tongue left his, moving to trail down his neck carefully while your hand moved down to pull your panties off. You couldn’t even handle having them on for another moment.

Andrew sighed at the feeling of your wet cunt rested on his stomach, his hazy eyes opening to take a nice gaze down at your body while you straddled his waist. The simple sight of the wet patch forming on his lower belly from how you were already dripping made him need you now.

Normally, he’d think to ask if you were okay first, check on you a million times to make sure you felt good, and take his time to let you adjust. But tonight something primal overtook both of you, not wasting any time at all. 

“Please. Need your cock. Inside. Now.” You gasped against his neck when his thumb came in contact with your aching clit, bucking against his hand like the needy mess you were. 

“So needy for me. Can you say that again for me, baby?” He groaned, grabbing your hips with no effort to be careful, lifting you up and sitting you on top of his already throbbing cock. Precum dripped out from the tip but was gone soon enough at a simple swipe of your finger along the tip.

You sat on top of his cock, but the absence of it actually inside of you made you whine.

“Andrew. M’not joking, please.” You whined again in utter desperation for the feeling of his warm length to fill you so right and stretch you out, but his hands kept you in place for the moment. He kept quiet, biting his lip in focus while he took his cock and gently brushed it against your slick.

Feeble moans slipped from both of your mouths at the slight contact on just the tip against you, making you need more. More, more, more. Andrew did love to tease you, but he knew now wasn’t the time to mess around and rub against you like that. You’d pounce any moment now to get him to put it inside.

You knew it was finally time when his hands moved from the sides of your waist and down to give your hips a loving tap. You know what that means: to lift up. He only suspended you for a moment before absolutely slamming you back down onto him, your hips meeting and his cock being buried inside you without warning or giving you any time to adjust. 

“Andr-” You started to groan in slight pain from the initial contact, but the feeling was replaced in seconds with the overwhelming pleasure he took his time to give you. His hips pushed up to meet yours passionately and desperately, squeezing you so hard and pushing you down to get the perfect angle in the depths of your pussy.

“Shh, baby. Giving you what you asked for. Just-” His voice was huskier than normal during sex. He’s normally so gentle and slow with you, but the visceral need to fill you up with a baby right now couldn’t handle that slow of a speed. He just wanted to cum as quickly as possible. “Just sit there and look pretty for me, yeah? Let me make myself a daddy.”

You didn’t protest one bit, shutting up at his command and sitting back while he guided your body down onto his, pushing harder than he maybe ever has during sex. Initially, you thought the erotic words spilling from his mouth would be the hottest thing of the night. But his mouth made contact with your right breast, swaying that opinion with no room for argument.

“Oh, Andy.” You whimpered, body arching and writhing every way to try to feel his pulsing cock as deep as humanly possible inside your wet cunt. His mouth sucked at your tit, teeth gently grazing the nipple and feeling it harden under his attention.

“Can’t wait to see these full of milk.” He mewled, letting his mouth come off of the right breast with a loud pop, switching to the other side. 

You never really thought of it that way, but the idea of pregnancy with Andrew was unbelievably hot. Normally it didn’t sound like such a sexy thing – swollen feet, morning sickness – but he made everything better. The thoughts of morning sex while he held and caressed your big belly, taking perfect care of you and the upcoming baby, were overpowering and all you could manage to focus on in the same moment he was balls deep inside of you.

Andrew, again, wasn’t being a gentleman. He’s fucking you dumb at this point, getting as deep as possible and hitting your favorite spot with each rough stroke. Whimpers spilled from your throat uncontrollably while the only noises heard from Andrew were the muffled groans against the skin of your tits in his mouth.

Just like he was rooting for, he felt the familiar stirring and tensing up in his gut.

“Baby, baby. Mmph- m’gonna cum soon.” He groaned and gave up on your breasts because he could hardly focus, wrapping his arms entirely around your body so you could be chest to chest during the last moments. “You sure about this? I can finish in you, right?”

You didn’t even allow yourself to listen to or process his words, nodding mindlessly like you were entirely drunk on pure lust. But he didn’t complain, obviously – it made his job a lot easier.

“Love you. Gonna- oh. Gonna make you the prettiest mommy, give you the most beautiful baby.” Groans escaped from his throat uncontrollably, his heading falling limply back while his hands squeezed at your hands with no remorse. There’ll for sure be some bruising tomorrow. 

As much as you wanted to, to make the moment more special, you couldn’t get out a single word. He’s got you completely numb and dumb in his arms while you look pretty and take him deep.

“There. Right there.” He growled into your ear, the most genuine of moans you’ve ever heard from him accompanying the filthy words while his release filled you up entirely and coated the inside of your pussy.

He rode it out slowly but pulled out to not overstimulate you, only now realizing how carried away he got that he didn’t bother checking on you or anything. It took a few moments for both of you to even catch your breath enough to breathe but he went right back to classic Andrew once he could speak. 

“Oh, sweetheart. Are you okay? I didn’t go too rough, did I?” He began worrying far too quickly, knocking you out of that gorgeous aftershock of the sex and making you snort. The moment was ruined, to an extent, but in an arguably beautiful way. 

“No, baby.” You whisper and fall down limp against him, head finding the familiar spot in his now sweaty neck to catch a break after the intense sex that you certainly are in no way used to. It wasn’t his typical well mannered self, but there was absolutely no issue in that – it may have been the hottest sex you’ve ever shared. “Okay, maybe a little. But it was fantastic.”

Both of you managed to calm down after a bit, the realization of what you’ve done finally hitting you in the afterglow.

“Oh.” He whispered, holding you as close as possible so you feel your intense heartbeats against one another. “I might be a daddy. Oh.”

[spiderfunkz]

─── ⋆ WOULD YOU STILL LOVE ME IF I WAS A SPIDER?

pairings. peter parker x fem!reader

cw. fluff, established relationship, reader is described as a ‘weird girl’ who has a huge obsession with insects and such.

author’s note: this is a part two of miss ladybug! so i suggest reading that first. i really like this pairing and i enjoy writing for them, my requests for peter are still open if you’d like to share some of your ideas 🙃🙃 special dedication to @ghostlyfleur btw <3

edit: part one | part three

peter parker isn’t as mysterious as he thinks he is. to most peers, he’s just another nerd who runs the photography team like it’s an elite competition— and obviously, he is winning it. he has messy hair that eerily resembles a squirrel’s tail, glasses that seem a bit to big for him, a skateboard that he always carries, and a stupid smile that now melts you like ice cream.

not to mention his sweet dimples. sometimes you see him as a helpless little millipede on the side of the road after a stormy day, that captures peter’s entire essence very well to you.

and that’s exactly what he looks like in your eyes as of now— hair wet, glasses broken in his hand, he has lost his skateboard somehow, and he’s still smiling like an absolute dork outside of your door.

“hi, ladybug— could you let me in, please?” peter smiles, teeth shining.

you move to the side, gesturing him to step inside. his hair is covering most of his forehead but you can’t help but notice a sting of red near his left side. you sigh, “you know, you look like the tarantula i lost in eight grade.”

peter’s ears perk up, “a tarantula?”

you nod, “mhm. it’s cold here, my room’s warmer.”

indeed it was. the room was lit only by fairy lights and two tiffany lamps. it wasn’t dark— it’s cozy. books are scattered around your desk, there were multiple posters up of insect anatomy, framed beetles & butterflies, and a lot of patterned-blankets.

“are you okay?”

he nods. you don’t really buy that, “you should probably move your hair to the right side, you don’t want it touching the wound you have on your left side.”

peter stands still, “what? i don’t— i don’t have a wound..”

“peter, i can see the red under your hair. the blood’s running down your skull— it’s probably mixed with rain water now and you should get that cleaned like right now!”

you pout, “what did you do now? and don’t say it’s because of your skateboard again ‘cos you don’t even have it right now!”

he thinks for a second. “i’m sorry, ladybug. but, before i answer that question could i ask one first?”

“what are you—”

“would you still love me if i was a spider? maybe like your eight grade tarantula?” he shrugs,

“huh? yes? yes. i’d still love you if you were a spider, peter parker. even if you were my eight grade tarantula that i lost and mourned for. now, what does that have to do with anything?”

peter hesitates, “i need you to sit down,”

“you’re scaring me,”

“it’s not as scary as you think.”

“is that suppose to reassure me?”

he nods before exhaling quite dramatically, “ladybug, i’m spider-man. that’s why my skull is bleeding red, why my skateboard is gone, and why i show up with scars snd bruises. and that’s also why i ask for you to accompany me to get ice packs.”

you sigh, in relief.

“i knew it.”

“what?”

“i called it!” you giggle. peter looks at you in disbelief, or confusion, or both.

“how— do you just know everything?”

“that’s why you always freak out when i call you spider-man. and maybe that’s how you got your name in the first place, if so, i want credit for it. and also, it’s kinda obvious..”

peter furrows his brows.

“you’re always on delivered when spider-man is reported to be on patrol. the day after the computer lab i did research on my device as it just finished getting repaired, and i sort of found a lot—”

peter blinks, “so, you do know everything.”

“i have my ways.”

“what are you? miraculous the ladybug?”

“i guess you’re not the only one with a secret identity then.”

[reidslovely]

Coffee (It's Never Just That)

A/N: I'm back-ish. I'm gonna be slow in putting things out, but I want to write things I want and not feel like I'm trapped in my block. So baby steps.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Two ex-lovers can't have enough of each other until the game of love absolutely destroys them.

Warnings: Poorly written smut to represent the complicated relationship (18+). No happy ending.

please reblog!

playlist

Staring at the screen felt like a stab to the chest. What could one say?

P. Parker: Saw you today- coffee?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she thought out a response. But with Peter it was never just that easy. The first time was supposed to be the only time it happened. But again, it was never just that easy. 

It was the Italian place down the street from Mary-Anne’s, the shitty dive bar she and Peter spent most of their college nights at. The invite was a shock, considering the two hadn’t spoken since their breakup at graduation. Nothing could feel as strange as accepting the invite to the place where she first met his aunt. If she closed her eyes tight enough she could have sworn May was to her right and Peter right in front of her. The three of them laughing over some joke she couldn’t quite pull from the memory. 

Hard cut to the Peter in front of her now. 

He looked different from the bleached blonde skater she fell in love with. His natural brown hair was grown out and styled perfectly, he had traded his geeky science shirts and band hoodies for a dark sports coat and blue sweater. The Peter who sat in front of her now was a science teacher, and the girl who sat in front of him was still in love with every version of him. 

“I always liked when you wore your glasses.” She muttered, tilting her head to the side slowly. 

Peter’s cheeks flushed a dark red, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. She chuckled in response not realizing she’d so rudely cut him off from his ramble with her compliment. 

“I know you did..” His eyes scanned over her in a way that made her feel naked. Something sinister creeped into Peter’s smile as he spoke. “I always loved that dress on you.”

Her hands dropped nervously into her lap soothing out the wrinkled fabric. Subconsciously, they both knew what they were doing here. 

That’s why, when her dress hit the hardwood floor in his midtown apartment she wasn’t shocked. It felt like old times, hands fitting into curves and each other's hair just like it used to. Soft whines and pleas for him to ‘stay right there’ as he buried himself inside her. Her legs wrapped around his hips holding him in place, Peter’s breath fanning her face as he lowered his face to hers, lips interlocking, as his hands held her legs in place nesting himself at her cervix as he spilled himself into her. 

And just like old times, when it was done and over with she clung to him, like holding onto her favorite memory. Foolishly, she was too trusting in falling asleep, because when she woke up he was gone. Police sirens and a breeze from the open window warming the empty spot in the bed- she rolled over falling back asleep knowing that this would always happen.

But, it wasn’t the last time it would happen. She couldn’t tell if she was happy about that or not. It was all curiosities fault that she texted him back a second time to meet up. 

Pete: Let’s go to the park? Sit and talk about it?

Curiosity responded with a bit too enthusiastic of a  yes now that she was looking back on it. 

She couldn’t be too hard on herself, anyone would have done the same for the guy they’d never fallen out of love with. So, she sat cross legged on a wooden bench in the front of the water fountain. She thought it would be silly for her to toss a quarter in trade for a wish- she always heard that was better than any penny. But not even that would change…this. Her head jolted up quickly as she noticed him approaching. She dressed casually this time, and swore to herself that no matter what he says she’s not following him home like a lovesick puppy- he is not hers. 

“I’m sorry I left like that.” 

What a way to start a conversation. An empty apology was always the thing Peter was best at. 

“Hey, it is what it is. You have..a duty and all.”

“It wasn't my intention to do that.” 

Air around them felt heavy, and against everything that’s telling her not to she asks.

“To leave or sleep with me?”

Peter’s shoulders slumped as he spoke, “Both.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly, she was twenty-two again, sitting amongst a sea of her peers who didn’t know the man she swore she’d marry just told her he’d never want to see her again. 

“I won’t let it happen again. I do want to be friends, it’s just- hard.”

They could never just be ‘friends’. 

The third and last time it happened was completely accidental. 

She checked the time on her phone for a fourth time that night. It was official- she’d been stood up. 

‘Awesome.’ She thought to herself. 

She downed the last of her wine, listening to the jazz band play. Reaching under the table for her bag, a pair of brown loafers slipped into her view. There he was, again, damnit. 

“This seat taken?” 

“No, h…have a seat.” She motioned nervously at the booth seat in front of her. Suddenly, she was very aware of the jazz band picking up tempo in their song mocking the panic setting in over her body. 

“Date? You’re early.” He teased taking a drink from his whiskey glass. 

“I’ve been stood up actually.” 

The silence that fell between the two was awkward and heavy. 

“Oh..I’m sorry baby.” 

There he goes again with his empty apologies. Sighing she sits her bag on the table waiting for her check. 

“What are you doing here?” She asks, sitting her arms on the table leaning forward to hear him. Peter clears his throat, clenching his glass nervously, he runs his finger down the condensation as he thinks. 

“Got tired of grading papers I was walking by and…poof…there you were.”

The air she blew out of her nose was followed by a laugh she couldn’t hold back. Without prompt or asking Peter slammed down a couple bills to cover the check before holding his hand out to her. Looking around she took a minute to weigh all her options and right now all she wanted was the comfort Peter could bring her. 

So she led him back to her place. The two stumbling through the door, lips interlocked. Peter’s hands in her hair dropped down, hiking up the bottom of her dress. His hand grabbing a fist full of her ass cheek in the process, pulling her in closer as he groped the skin. 

“I miss you.” 

He whispered against her cheek, she could feel her heart skipping a beat as he spoke. Leaning back in her hands connected in his hair. Something felt different this time. 

Something was much more real this time, all she could do with her back to his chest was moan out her usual pleas for him to stay with her. He held her close, his hand flat against the middle of her chest, she knew he felt every beat her heart made times ten as he drove into her. His free hand roaming and groping her chest. Peter follows his same routine, laying her face against the pillow as he holds onto her. She reaches for his hand, feeling his larger one engulf hers as he finishes inside her. This time she had him, he was hers. 

Or so she thought as she fell asleep on his chest, as stealthy as Peter thought he was, he was never quiet enough for her. The warmth of Peter was replaced by the softness of her down pillow, making her ears perk up. Silently, she sat up watching him getting dressed. Pulling her knees to her chest almost protecting herself from what is about to come. “Where are you going?” 

The question made Peter stop in his tracks. He couldn’t even find it in him to turn and face her. 

“I’ve..uh..gotta go.” His shoulders slumped as he slid his pants on, hands on his hips as he leaned his head back.  “Early morning and all..”

“It’s sunday.” She laughs “Come back to bed.” It was said in a voice she’d hope would pull him back. But when he said nothing and continued to put his shoes on she realized everything that was said in the moment earlier was just that, a fleeting moment. 

“God. You are never gonna change are you.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement that came off much more hateful than she intended for it to be, but she was tired and too grown for whatever game it was he was playing. The thing that hurt the most was he didn’t even try to argue back. He huffed, buttoning up his shirt and ruffling his hair. He finally turned to look at her with whatever decency he had, with another “I’m so sorry baby.” 

Hr was always sorry- he’d only ever be sorry. Wiping her tears she rolled over in her bed and pulled herself under her covers as the door shut. 

P. Parker: Baby? Coffee? What do you say?

The vibration pulled  from each disappointing memory of her heart breaking. But finally she was making the choice she knew she had too. 

You: Hey Peter! Can’t tonight lots of thesis work to finish, hope you’re doing good though!

She dropped her phone on the couch as she set her focus back onto her laptop. The door opening drew her attention over her shoulder, tossing Felicia a smile as she walked out of her bedroom. 

“Plans tonight?” The blonde asked in a sing-song voice.

“Nope.” 

There was a sinking feeling in her stomach as her phone buzzed once more, she fought everything in her to pick up and go crawling back into his bed. But for now, she was done.

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@helloheyhihowdyheya @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @hollandweather @eevylynn