#ღ bugboy

[bruisedboys]

also also!!!!!! peter x clumsy!reader might be the best pairing. because his spidey senses ugh he’s always catching you before you trip. like an arm around your back and then he dips you down to be dramatic and you get all flustered. and!!! if you’re not in arms reach he definitely shoots a web at you to pull you into his chest before you can do any damage. you both have several heart attacks a day because you’re such a klutz.

I am always on the peter x clumsy reader agenda!! they are so special to me!!! also the thing you said about him catching you and dipping you down omg I could die.

fem!reader 0.7k words

You’re still in the process of patching yourself up when Peter gets home, your knees scraped and a box of big Band-Aids waiting for you on the coffee table. You were hoping to be done by the time he got home, to save him the worry. No such luck. You hear the front door open and you don’t have time to hide your fresh wounds, your evidence of yet another accident.

You’re sure you look quite pathetic when Peter emerges in the doorway.

“Hi, dove! I missed— are you bleeding?” His smile drops and so does his bag. He doesn’t bother taking his jacket off. He strides across the room and gets to his knees in front of you. His hands find your thighs, thumbs just shy of your fresh scrapes.

“Oh, honey,” he coos. He’s not shocked, at least. You think maybe it’s happened so many times it doesn’t phase him anyway more.

His eyebrows pinch together as he scowls at your poor knees, his hands squeezing your thighs. He gives your injuries a once over before lifting his head to look at you sadly. “What happened?”

You frown. “Tripped in the driveway,” you admit moodily. “I’m fine, really. Looks worse than it feels.”

Peter huffs morosely, “I wish I was there when it happened. Could’ve caught you, baby.”

You melt. You’re endeared by his care for you. You smile at him and reach out to push his hair from his forehead, his curls soft under your fingers. You drag your hand down the side of his head, fingers heavy, and let your palm rest over his cheek. Peter’s eyelids flutter under your touch.

“It’s okay, Pete,” you tell him brightly. “You can’t win ‘em all.”

Peter laughs, his smile blinding. “Thanks, babe.” He twists his head so he can kiss your palm, a warm press of his soft, wind-bitten lips. “Let’s get you patched up now, hm?”

Peter patches up your knees, hands gentle as he cleans your wounds and presses Band-Aids over them. He’s a practiced hand, having done this plenty of times, on your legs, elbows, fingers, you name it. Though you must admit, you’re far less prone to accidents with Peter around. He catches you more times than he doesn’t. Today was just bad timing.

When Peter’s done fixing you up he lays a kiss on each of your knees, over your fresh white Band-Aids.

“All fixed,” he says happily, sliding his hand up your thigh to give your hip a squeeze.

You beam and cover his hands with yours. “Thanks, Peter.”

Peter stands and pulls you up with him. Your knees sting, but only a little, and it’s nothing you’re not used to.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks, head ducked so he can meet your eyes, his hair tumbling into the space between your heads. “I can get you some ice, if you like?”

You shake your head. You’d much rather have him stay this close forever. “I’m okay, Pete.”

Peter still looks unconvinced, a frown tugging at his lips. He thinks for a second, then, “Do you want a hug? ‘Cos I know I do.”

You giggle. You’d kill for a hug right now. “Sure.”

You push your arms under his and he circles you in his strong hold, pulling you as close as he can to his chest. He’s careful to avoid your knees bumping his, legs moving so yours are between his. You push your face into his firm chest and breathe him in, his smells, his cologne and the wind on his clothes and that lovely scent he carries around with him everywhere, like old books and coffee shops.

Peter’s face falls into your neck and he sighs, practically melting into you, latching onto you like glue. He’s warm and he’s soft and he’s Peter. The pain in your knees is completely unnoticeable when he’s holding you like this.

“My poor, clumsy girl,” he says eventually, mostly fond, but there’s a whisper of cheek that you don’t miss.

You scowl into his chest. “M’not clumsy,” you whine, though you definitely are and you both know it. “The pavement is uneven.”

Peter pulls back, his big hands on your upper arms. He’s smiling like an idiot. “It is?”

You nod fervently. “Yeah. S’why I tripped.”

Peter nods slowly like you’re telling the truth, like the pavement in the driveway isn’t perfectly even.

“Stupid pavement,” he says.

You giggle and hide your face in his chest again.

-

[bruisedboys]

peter parker who always lets you hang off his arm. you’re always holding it to your chest when walking or just standing. letting him do the guiding because you just want to stick to his side. you wrap both your arms around his and just fiddle with his fingers and maybe tug on them when you need his attention. you rest your chin on his shoulder when he’s stopped to talk to someone or when you’ve both sat down. you just have to be near him tbh <3333 and he doesn’t care one bit, he actually hates it when you’re not as close.

aerial why would you do this to me!!! I want to be his clingy gf so bad. also this is really short sorry </3

Peter sometimes finds it hard to breathe when you cling to him like this. You’re so close and your warmth is seeping into him and your perfume smells like honey and flowers and hell, he’s so in love with you he could die.

One of your hands is slotted in his, your fingers having searched for his and found them the moment you’d stepped outside. Your other hand is curled around his elbow, clutching his arm to your chest. Peter thinks it’s cute, how close you want to be to him. How you don’t seem to want to let him go.

“Y/N, honey,” he says with a poorly contained grin. “You okay?”

You look up at him, pretty as ever. Peter’s chest burns at the sight of you.

“Fine,” you say, and you look it. Your smile is bruising.

The breeze has blown a strand of hair across your face. Peter lifts his free arm and pushes the stray lock behind your ear, his hand lingering on your jaw.

“Did you decide what you feel like eating?” He asks slowly. It’s hard to get the words out when his fondness and adoration for you is making his chest tight.

You don’t notice, and besides, you look like you’re feeling an equal amount of fondness for him. “I was thinking Thai,” you say thoughtfully. “But only if you want that too?”

Peter grins. He doesn’t care what he eats, as long as it’s with you. He presses his thumb to the corner of your mouth, then leans down to press a chaste kiss to your wind-bitten lips. “Thai it is.”

Peter and you walk the short distance to the Thai restaurant. You cling to Peter the entire way. He can’t stop smiling. He wants you this close forever, even if it means you’re so close he has to be extra careful not to step on your feet.

The Thai place is busy tonight. Neither of you mind. You stand in line, so close your shoes press up against each other. You fiddle with Peter’s fingers, trace the lines on his palm, the veins on the inside of his wrist. Peter is putty in your hands. His chest feels like it’s on fire, worse when you press into his side and let your head fall against his shoulder, your weight familiar and soft and warm all at once.

By the time the food comes out, hot and fresh and smelling delicious, Peter’s chest is already so full with fondness for you he’s not sure he can fit anything else in there. He tries his best.

[bruisedboys]

…..tasm!peter x shy!r. yes. but……i imagine peter gets really excited for you when you do things for yourself like a dork. like ordering for yourself or asking for help at the stores finding something. it’s so basic but peter knows you struggle so he just gets really excited 4 u.

screams and cries!!!! he’s so lovely I’ve died. why would u do this to me aerial

shy!fem!reader 0.7k words

Peter’s nowhere to be seen. He said he’d only be a minute getting strawberries from the fruit aisle. He’s been more than a minute. And now you’re stuck in the freezer section wondering where on earth they keep the ice cream cones, and why on earth they’re not next to the ice cream.

A worker is stacking tubs of ice cream not far from you. Normally you’d get Peter to ask for help, or he’d just do it for you without you having to ask. Either way, Peter’s not here. And your ticket to finding the cones for ice cream night with Peter is standing halfway down the aisle from you.

You take a deep breath and bite the bullet, striding up to the worker before you can psych yourself out.

“Um.” You clear your throat. Your heart is pounding. “Excuse me?”

The worker turns to look at you. She makes eye contact with you and you forget to speak for half a second before remembering what you’re doing.

“Um, sorry to bother you.” You offer an awkward smile. “But could you tell me where the ice cream cones are?”

“Of course,” she nods and smiles. “They’re just in aisle three, with the toppings.”

You smile at her, relieved that you haven’t muddled your words or embarrassed yourself too much. “Thank you so much.”

You turn on your heel, hot faced, and walk about two steps before you bump into something tall, firm and Peter shaped.

You gasp and almost stumble backwards, but Peter gets his hand around your elbow before you go falling to your demise.

You look up. Peter’s grinning wide, his fingers curled around your elbow.

“Hi, pretty,” he says. His hair is falling into his eyes. He’s got a punnet of bright red strawberries in his other hand. He’s so lovely it makes your chest ache.

“Hi,” you beam. “I found out where the cones are.”

“I saw that,” he says knowingly, nodding behind you towards the worker you’d spoken to. His hand pushes down to your forearm and squeezes. “I’m proud of you, baby.”

You give him a look like you’re not totally adored by him right now. Like your heart hasn’t just swelled twice as big. You pretend to be offended.

“Were you standing here the whole time?” You ask him, eyebrows raised.

He has the decency to at least pretend to look guilty.

“Well …” He rubs the back of his neck. “Not the whole time. I came right when you were asking her and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

You huff. “Right.”

Peter lets go of you and steps back. It only lasts about a second. He takes one look at you and changes his mind. He throws his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. He’s smiling so big you’re worried he’ll get stuck like that.

“What?” You ask, giggling and flustered from his attention.

Peter makes a happy noise somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, and wraps his other arm around you until you’re circled in his hold. His punnet of strawberries squashed between his hand and your back. He hugs you so tight you can barely breathe, his arms like bars around your shoulders. You can’t say you care.

You’re breathless as you giggle into his chest. “Pete, what—?”

“I’m so proud of you,” he says before you can finish. You can hear his smile clear as day. He’s so earnest, so happy for you, it makes you dizzy. He dips his head down so his lips ghost over the skin behind your ear. It’s far too intimate for a grocery store. You’re too busy trying not to breathe too fast to care.

“Really, baby.” He’s murmuring into your skin and you can feel every word, goosebumps erupting underneath his lips. “You’re spectacular.”

“Pete,” you manage, hardly breathing. You push at his chest, your hands squashed between him and you, until he gives in and pulls away.

“Yeah?” He asks, head tilted like a puppy. His eyes are so bright is blinding.

“Let’s, um.” You take a big breath and try to slow your pounding heart. It doesn’t work. Peter notices too, you can see it in his smile that he knows how much he affects you. “Let’s go get the cones, yeah?”

“Okay.” Pete grins so wide his eyelashes kiss. “But can I have one more hug first?”

You indulge him. For his gain only, of course.

-

[bruisedboys]

THE DARK NIGHT—

ok this prompt is a lil long but just use it for the vibes if that makes it easier okok i love u

“your head is so numb. that nervous breath you try to hide. between the motions. that trembling tender little sigh.” w/ peter parker!!

this is sooo omg. I love u for this roma. also this is not that good I’m sorry :(

fem!reader 0.5k words

It’s 5pm and Peter’s already got you in his lap. Really, you can’t blame him. You’d looked so pretty when you got home from work he couldn’t keep his hands off you.

He’s already managed to get you out of your work blouse. Unbuttoned it all the way down while you’d kissed him silly, then pushed it over your shoulders onto the floor and kept right on kissing you.

He kisses you languid and messy, drinking you up like he’s been deprived of you for days. He hasn’t. He’d seen you just this morning. But it feels like it’s been forever.

Peter thinks you’re even more eager than him tonight, which is saying something. You’ve been all over him, hands on his neck and chest and waist. Lips hungry and unforgiving. Now, your hands glide from his shoulders down to his hips and then you’re slipping them beneath his shirt. Peter suddenly decides he needs a breather.

“Y/N,” he breathes out, sounding like he’s just run a marathon.

He pulls away and you try to chase his lips with yours. It’s insanely cute and a little (a lot) attractive. Peter holds you back with one hand on your sternum. You stop searching and open your eyes.

“What?” You ask, sounding similarly out of breath. Peter can feel your heartbeat under his hand. It’s racing. “You don’t want me to touch you?”

Frowning, you pull your hands away from his skin. Peter misses your touch immediately.

“No!” He says quickly, his tone taking an embarrassing desperate edge. “No, that’s not it.”

With his free hand he takes your wrist and guides your hand back to the hem of his shirt. You look very content with this. You slide your hand under the fabric and spread it over Peter’s stomach. Peter tries desperately to hide the nervous breath that escapes his lips.

“What is it, then?” You ask.

Peter feels your thumb stroking over the fine hairs on his stomach and just about loses his mind. He struggles to get the next words out.

“Um, I—I just need a breather,” he manages. The stuttering makes his already hot face grow hotter. “My head feels numb.”

You squint at him and shuffle forwards on his lap. Your hand finds his forehead and you push your fingers into his hairline. “Good numb or bad numb?”

Peter feels your thighs pressing against his, your hand in his hair, and it’s all too much. He throws his head back against the couch and lets out a trembling sigh.

“Good numb,” he admits weakly. He’s sure he sounds quite pathetic. He can’t bring himself to care very much, because now you’re giggling like mad.

Peter shoots up. “What’s funny?” He demands. He’s still very hot in the face and out of breath.

“Nothing,” you say, but you’re smiling like it’s something. “You’re really cute, you know that?”

Peter rolls his eyes. You’re sitting in his lap, in nothing but your bra and work skirt, and you’re calling him cute.

“That’s funny,” he says seriously, “I was just about to tell you the same thing.”

You burst out laughing again, peals of sticky giggles rolling from your lips. Peter feels so lovesick his head hurts.

[bruisedboys]

ooooo for knives out <3

∗ o3﹕ sender  places  their  feet / legs  in  receiver's  lap .

with tysm! peter parker if u want to ofc <3

thank u for the req angel ily!!!!!

fem!reader 0.5k words

Peter thinks you look exhausted. You’ve been quiet all evening, the bags under your eyes are prominent (but still very pretty, in Peter’s humble opinion) and he thinks you’re starting to fall asleep with your nose in your book. He watches you where you’re sitting on the opposite end of the couch, your knees tucked up to your chest and feels an enormous amount of fondness for you. And what he can only describe as a parent-ly urge to get you to bed.

He sticks his foot out and nudges your shin with it.

“Y/N?”

Slowly, very slowly, you lift your head. It looks like it’s a very tough feat for you to achieve. Peter imagines your head feels heavy as a bowling ball right now.

Your eyes zero in on Peter and you smile, albeit tiredly. “Hm?”

“Are you tired?” He asks, though he knows the answer already. “Wanna go to bed?”

You shake your head and blink away the tired look in your eyes. “No. I wanna spend time with you.”

Peter laughs. You’re so cute he could die. “We’re not even doing anything, dove.”

“Yeah we are,” you say, as fiercely as you can when your words are all slurred and sticky. “We’re reading.”

“Seperate books,” Peter counters, holding up his own book for emphasis.

You huff and give Peter this adorable pout slash death glare that makes him want to kiss you.

“Whatever, Peter,” you say, frowning so deeply anyone but Peter himself would think it was real. “If you wanted to get rid of me you could’ve just said so.”

You make to get up off the couch but Peter grabs you before you can. Snags you by the ankle and pulls you across the couch until you’re squealing and your legs land in his lap. Your book falls to the floor and you brace yourself on Peter’s shoulders.

“Pete!” You squeal, sounding more pleased than you probably want to, and more awake than you have all evening. Peter stops tugging but doesn’t release you, his fingers pressing into your bare calves. You notice his death grip and ask, “What are you doing?”

Peter pretends not to hear you and instead drags his hand down the length of one of your legs, all the way from your ankle to your thigh, with enough pressure that he knows you’ll be squirming. “Hm?”

As predicted, you go all melty and shy under his touch. “Pete,” you say again, with a poorly contained shiver.

“What?” He asks, squeezing at the doughy flesh of your thigh. “Thought you wanted to spend time with me.”

“I do, I just—“ Your breath hitches mid-sentence when Peter slides his hand under the hem of your shirt to get a hold of your hip. He drags his thumb over your hipbone and you look for a second like you might pass out.

“Peter,” you hiss. “Stop it.”

Peter chuckles and releases you, but doesn’t let you pull your legs from his lap. He’s gonna keep you here all night if he can.

“Poor girl,” he muses, and dots a kiss to your burning cheek.

-

[bruisedboys]

🧸 — send in a character + a scenario prompt for a blurb!

Congratulations on 2k 🥳 I was thinking about a Grumpy x Sunshine with Tasm! Peter Parker.

thank you for your request babe!

summary: peter comforts a grumpy you when you’re sick of studying

fem!reader 0.6k words

Studying sucks. You’ve had enough of it after about ten seconds, but you keep at it because you have to and because you don’t want to bother Peter, who seems much more inclined to study than you.

He’s sitting on his bed bent over his laptop, the screen light reflecting in his glasses and his hair all messy from where he’s run his hands through it. His posture is awful and you’ve told him so but he always ends up in the same position anyway. You sit and watch him for too long before realising you’ve gotten distracted. Again.

You sigh, long suffering, and turn back to your books on Peter’s desk. You’re picking up your pencil like it’s a chore when Peter speaks.

“Sweetheart,” he says, sounding sympathetic. “That’s about the hundredth time I’ve heard you sigh in the past ten minutes. Are you okay?”

You look up from your books and frown at him.

“No,” you moan, maybe more dramatic than you need to be but this really does suck. You’re bored and you’re tired and you’ve got a headache. And you want to cuddle your boyfriend.

Peter, ever the optimist, offers you a soft smile, tilting his head to one side. It’s so cute you almost stop frowning. “What’s wrong, darling?”

He says it like he can fix whatever’s wrong, like he can solve all your problems and more. You’re sure he could.

“I’m tired,” you mope. “And I have a headache.”

Peter makes a pitying noise that makes your heart stutter. He slides his laptop off of his lap and climbs off the bed, crossing the room in a few quick strides until he’s standing in front of you in your desk chair.

He takes your face in his hands and it’s so nice you could cry.

“My poor girl,” he says sympathetically, his hands rubbing at your neck. He doesn’t frown, rather, he smiles, all big and bright and pretty. He’s got a lovely smile. “Should we take a break, dove?”

You don’t smile because you’re still grumpy, but you do manage to soften out your furrowed brows. “Yeah, please.”

Pete beams, and you’d be jealous of how happy he is all the time if he didn’t look so cute doing it. He drops his hands and holds one out for you to take.

“C’mon then. Do you want to go for a walk? Or should we could order takeout, if you’re hungry. Oh, we could watch that show you like, the one with—“

“Pete.” You grab his hand to stop him listing off more options. You give his fingers a squeeze. “I love you, but I’m too tired to do any of that, baby. I just wanna cuddle.”

Peter’s smile doesn’t waver, because it never does.

“Okay, lovebug,” he says cheerfully. He pulls you out of your chair with ease and leads you over to the bed.

“You know, you could’ve just asked, sweetheart,” he says lightly, tugging you onto the bed with him. He’s smiling big so you know he’s not being cruel. Besides, when is he ever cruel? You’re the one with a short fuse. “I mean, instead of sitting and sighing like I can read your mind.”

You climb into bed next to him, hook one leg over his and throw your arm across his chest. He’s warm, and just as comfortable as you’ve been imagining.

“But you can read my mind,” you say into his chest, only half joking. Sometimes he knows you so well you think he can see every one of your thoughts. Honestly, you wouldn’t put it past him.

Peter chuckles, his chest vibrating with the sound, his fingers traversing a path down your back, bumping over the ridges in your spine. It’s so nice you forget about frowning. You smile into Peter’s chest. His hand stops short in between your shoulder blades.

“Are you smiling?” He asks teasingly, even though he can’t see your face where you’re squished into his chest.

“Mind reader,” you say accusingly.

Peter laughs again.

[bruisedboys]

MARS — dying to know what you think single!dad peter parker would be like (whether he’s still spidey or not is up to you gf)

ohmygosh this was such a good concept. fem!reader

ღ peter parker as a single dad headcanons!

• okay so for some reason I picture him with twins, one girl and one boy

• he carries them around one on each hip until they’re like 2 years old

• which is far too long because they’re much too big but he’s spiderman so he’s barely breaking a sweat

• actually he is breaking a sweat. they’ve been running him through the mill since day one. but he loves them so much anyway

• calls them tweedledee and tweedledum

• also calls them bugboy and buggirl. omg

• holds family bath time where all three of them get in the bubbliest bath known to man kind. the kids love it (peter loves it more)

• dresses them in matching outfits

• puts little bows in baby girl’s hair once it’s long enough. buys literally every baby bow he sees because she’s so cute in them

• dresses them up as spiderman and spiderwoman for halloween

• he figures out how to use his spidey powers in very innovative ways

• for example: sometimes he sticks a baby to the wall with his webs because they’re crawling in different directions and he can’t keep up

• clothesline??? no, just a bunch of webs

• okay he definitely has one of those baby carrier things where you strap them to your chest!! when they go out, one baby goes in there and the other sits on his shoulders

• they fight over who gets to go on dad’s shoulders all the time

• his daughter is a daddy’s girl fr. she clings to him in every social setting ever. she inherited peter’s social ineptitude

• his son inherited all of his charm and recklessness. he’s a total charmer but has absolutely no sense of danger. will jump off couches without warning and talk to strangers like they’re his best friends

• peter’s a wonderful dad, but his son especially needs a mom figure to keep him in check!! (that’s where you come in hehe)

• the first time you meet singledad!peter is when his son comes toddling up to you alone at the grocery store

• you help him find his dad, who turns out to be a cute tall brunette who looks like he’s on wits end

• he’s so relieved when his baby boy runs up to him. scoops him up even though he’s already holding his girl and just squeezes like he never wants to let go

• you offer to help peter with the rest of his shopping bc he looks dead beat. he melts on the spot

• and the rest is history!!

• his son becomes instantly attached to you. baby girl takes longer to warm up to you, though

• she likes you but she’s just so shy. clings to her dad when you come over

• when she cuddles you for the first time you almost cry. peter does cry

• overall singledad!peter parker is perfect and adorable and I’m obsessed

[bruisedboys]

peter parker has a crush on you. a big, fat, hopeless crush on you. he’s certain you’re an angel sent from heaven. he watches you squint at a page of your textbook and almost misses the question you ask when you hold the book up to his face. “what does that word even mean?” you’re asking. peter wants to say, “I love you,” but he’s pretty sure that’s not the correct definition. he gives you the proper answer almost dreamily (maybe he is in a dream … that would explain the angel thing), and you positively beam. peter just stares because of course your cheeks scrunch up in the cutest way possible, of course the 5pm sunlight is hitting your pretty face just right. “thank you,” you say. peter wants to say “you’re welcome,” but would rather not accidentally let a love confession slip. he’ll keep his mouth shut … for now.