#andrew!peter parker

[axetivev]

— Summary: After that day in freshmen, Peter found himself on his knees for a fellow student council, this being you.

— Warnings: Fluff!! Yan!Peter, Andrew!Peter, student council!Reader, Slight suggestive (mainly because of Peter's mind, lol), Popular!Reader.

— Words: 1.2k

— A/N: Fluffy,, (self-indulgent) I'm in love with Andrew Garfield. I need help, I'm not really into marvel if I could be honest. I love the characters specifically because of the actors. Also, I apologize for being unable to interact and/or post as often as I used to. But I hope everyone is going well !! Requests are open, I hope you enjoy !!

— Pairing: Peter Parker x Male!Reader.

“Seriously, do you think that Peter and M/N actually lovers?”

“I swear I saw them kiss once—”

Those rumors were spreading like wildlife, but you always shrugged, your words were sharp and by simple commands, nearly everyone in the school would shut down their conversation about you and Peter’s relationship.

Peter Parker himself in the other hand—it was rather complicated in his side. He felt like he was like one of those girls who hates to be shipped, yet deep down. He loves it more then anything. How couldn’t he? You were the one who kept helping him if anyone who dares said a word—even laid a hand on him, you were his hero.

It was started small, really. Bullying on freshman highschool, Peter faced it like a normal day, until a boy similar age as him stepped in—shielding Peter from those who just threw stuff at him he himself didn’t saw. It felt like in those highschool movies where the girl was the one who protects the main protagonist, but it’s a boy.

An extremely cute boy—in Peter’s pupils turned into hearts from his eyes. Is this what people call love at first sight? He don’t know, nor does he cared. That boy was you, that braveness of yours was admirable, the way you blocked those who hurt him was also admirable. All of the parts of your body was just…

…Admirable.

“Are you alright?” Your words were like a slap that brought Peter back to reality, a shy smile formed between his lips as he saw you giving out a hand. Which he take, squeezing your hand as a thank you. You continue. “M/N L/N! How about you?”

“…Peter Parker, but Peter is good enough.” He whispered as Peter then took a better look over your expression—everything about you just made his heart hurts by how fast it was bumping. “Are…aren’t you one of the new student council?”

“Yes, I’m!” You replied, eyes beaming since somebody finally noticed—that smile you put… Dangerous if kept in Peter’s mind.

After that day, there it goes the friendship between you two. Even though you saw Peter often being alone, you were always there beside him. Even at some point, you dare to left your own friend group in lunch just to sat next to him, Peter felt like he was in heaven.

The way when you both sat next to each other during lunch, you ate whatever your parents gave you. Devouring it, Peter always paused as looked at you. Yet again, admiring. Especially when you eat.

Could that small mouth of his would fit? How loud could he be? Can he handle something big? M/N looked more handsome then usual… Too bad I can’t ruined that handsome face…

Those thoughts and questions always come to his mind, this teenager really is something… Good thing you can’t read people’s thoughts. And the fact Peter followed you like a loyal dog too could raised some suspicion out of other students—even teachers.

After a long day of school, you and Peter walked together in the hallways, your eyes were weary after a sudden pop-quiz that you able to pass, but left you half dying. Peter was beside you, seemed somewhat unbothered as much. Perhaps, even eased it.

“Tired?” Peter asked, you opened your locker to put back some of your stuff. You nodded to his answer, he then added. “Seems like the pop-quiz drained you, didn’t it?”

You then slowly closed your locker, you rubbed your eyes. Fuck, Peter’s mind went dirty again—imagine if you woke up, similarly rubbing your eyes that way… with hickies around your body—“Peter?”

Before Peter could answer, you walked away from the lockers. On your way to the doors to go home, Peter quietly laughed to himself as he followed you like a loyal golden retriever—Minus the fact that Peter doesn’t have blond hair but of course, deep down he was extremely happy and excited to see you.

As you opened the door, Peter’s hand was on your shoulder, making you stumbled back as your eyes widened. Annoyed for a moment, you turn to Peter to scold him—But thunder cut it out, you turned your head back to its original position. The sky, darkened and some flash happened, without a warning. A water droplet fell, from one, then two, then more.

The kids on the field freaked out. Running away to find shelter, some students, who, still inside came out to look at the rain like they haven’t seen rain, Peter smirked behind you as a frown formed on your lips.

“Damnit,” you cursed under your breath, moving closer to the rain, just enough to test how fast the rain fall. “I didn’t bring my umbrella…” You turned round, a few female students, even some male ones came to you—crowding as they pulled out their own umbrella.

“You can borrow mine!” A female students exclaimed, but another student pushed her aside. “M/N! Here, have my umbrella. I have some spear ones!"

The sight in front of you was like war. Students were just fighting over to who gave you umbrella. Really, it’s amusing. But not for Peter who’s his gaze darkened while he was on the back. You noticed, a smile formed on your lips. As the other students fight, they didn’t noticed that you already walked to Peter. You saw him having a red umbrella on hand.

“Do you mind if we… go home together?” You whispered, trying not to get too loud so others wouldn’t hear you. Peter didn’t give it a thought, immediately nodding his head.

“You know, I didn’t have any other in me,” Peter spoke quietly as he opened his umbrella. You shurgged, “And, problem?”

Red was on Peter’s cheek. You chuckled as he held his umbrella. You were next to him—walking together was the students behind you two slowly realized that you’re not in front of them anymore, as they tried to look at you. You already made an escape with Peter, the same boy that used to be target of bullying now, with a popular student council.

Peter was struggling to hold back his blush by how close you were with him. Your shoulders were touching, his eyes met yours and it drove him wild. But thankfully, your place isn’t that far from the school. A simple 15 minute walk, you two made it. Just right in front of the empty house of yours.

“Thanks for the ride, Peter.” You thanked him as you slowly took some small steps to the porch, Peter gave you a nod. “Of course…” You suddenly stayed quiet for a moment, before calling his name out loud, taking his attention.

Peter then slowly turned his figure—before he could take some steps ahead. You run up to him, immediately hugging him as tight as you could. You didn’t knew why, you just felt it; Peter deserve it, after all. You even had the audacity to placed a kiss on his cheek before running back to your house, giving him a wave. Peter stood here.

What in the world… Was he dreaming? Peter touched his cheek, red as ever been. He covered his face from embarrassment, as the waters of rain waters his umbrella.

He absolutely did not focus on his missions as Spidey.

[iridescentparkers]

lessons in sexting ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

warnings: very suggestive! (18+)

“PETER!” you exclaimed, and he dropped inside of your bedroom window. You lay on your shared bed where you once waited for him to arrive. He yanked off his mask and crawled between your legs, quickly placing his hand along your waist and head buried in your chest. “What’s wrong?”

“I can never go outside again,” he muffled, turning his face to the side as he remained on your chest. 

“What are you talking about?”

He dug around in his pocket before grabbing his phone and scrolling to find a picture of himself. Lying down, his sight refused to meet yours as his head remained turned to the side, and he raised his phone to your face. “Read the text.” 

The photo was quite…shameful. In the photo, the phone was angled downwards towards the bottom half of his thin, sweaty suit. Peter was unbelievably hard and gripping his erection above the material. The upper half of the photo showed Peter’s teeth gripping his mask, drippings of sweat falling down his face. Underneath it was a text that read, “Baby, I miss you <3” 

“I didn’t get this text-” 

“Look up,” he murmured, and you moved your eyes to see that he sent it to Harry. You couldn’t help but laugh, Peter then groaned into your body and placed his hands on his face. 

“Is business rough these days? I didn’t realize Spiderman offered this kind of service.” You laughed, slamming his phone down on the bed. 

“Please.” he began, “He hasn’t responded 'cause it's late but I know he will never let this die.” 

“I don’t know if I will either!” 

“I missed, you!” He exclaimed. “It was getting boring and hot in that suit.”

“If it helps,” you whispered, running your fingers through his unkempt hair. “You looked good.”

“Really good?” He murmured, moving his eyes up to your face before placing kisses on the top of your breasts.

“Mmm hmm,” you hummed, nodding as Peter moved to hover above your body, placing you beneath him as he kissed you deeply. “Really good.”

[nouearth]

let me in.

peter parker x male reader.

summary: peter struggles to balance between life and work, and it's ruining his relationship with you.

wc: 6.6k. genre: smut. warnings: andrew!peter, college au, established relationship, brief fighting, brief injury and blood mention (nosebleed), misunderstandings, peter reveals his identity, dry-humping, over the pants (or suit) handjob, body worshipping, lots of sweat, fingering, frotting, riding, spandex fetish, reader has a thing for peter in his spider-man suit!

You were starting to feel antsy. You could feel it—the nerves kicking in again. Anticipation—a suspension of doubt—made your hands clammy at first, but it was the time that made your hands clutch nothing but air. You rubbed the sweat off your hands onto your pants, your knees not so comforting with their pointedness.

Acceptance—when it was evident that Peter was late, again.

Birthdays have never been a big deal in your family. Sure, it was great that you had the privilege to live another year. To witness yourself grow older, to stand a few inches taller, to live a little more knowledgeable than yesterday. But growing up with parents who had to constantly work, well-late into the depths of night, it had never been more than a birthday wish that had greeted you in the mornings, and bid you slumber in the evenings. Since then, you knew not to expect anything.

If only Peter hadn’t made such a big deal out of it this year.

“Excuse me?” The familiar timbre of a voice speared your thoughts; deep and tunneling as you were transfixed on the glasses of water before you. Yours had been refilled, though a little sparse compared to Peter’s full cup.

Your eyes widened with feigned curiosity, a small smile plastered alongside to hopefully negate any annoyance from the waiter—because you expected what he was about to follow up with.

“Hey… uh,” he shifted on his feet awkwardly, eye bags weighing heavier than the last time he had checked up on you. You looked around, surprised by the amount of patrons who had filled the space around you while you were daydreaming. Laughter and smiles completely lit up the room. The dim lights were practically stationed in the restaurant for decoration, and seemingly to spotlight your ‘dinner for one’ status. “I’m sorry, but… we have no more tables to fill, and if you aren’t ordering soon, then we’ll have to give your table up for the next party...”

It was obvious that you weren’t, you hadn’t even torn into the buttery bread rolls that were piping hot forty-five minutes ago. Now, the fat had solidified into spotty, yellow clumps, though you doubt that would’ve been enough to detract from the quality of the rolls.

“Oh, I—“ You pulled out your phone to check your messages again. Nothing. Swiped down to refresh your conversation with Peter. The loading icon felt like it took forever, you half-expected that your phone was updating the thread with Peter’s messages that somehow got lost in the void of the restaurant’s spotty signal. 

And nothing.

“I—yeah… uh. I-I’ll head out.” It was embarrassing. Even if the waiter had given you a sympathetic smile, you hated knowing that you wasted his time. You hated that you selfishly occupied a seat when someone else would’ve been done with dinner by the time you exited. 

“Thanks—” 

You hated that you had your hopes up for things to be different.

Again.

The night was dreary. Not even the wind had greeted you like the others when you stepped out. Soft and fluttering against your skin, but scolding enough to make you put your coat back on. Luckily, your apartment wasn’t too far from the restaurant, a fifteen minute walk at most if you speed-walked. Shoving your hands in your coat pockets, you then ambled along the sidewalks, wallowing in your feelings with a playlist that belted in your ears once you plugged your earbuds in. 

You didn’t have the energy left to hurry home.

Once you crossed the last intersection, you felt a little bit more at ease. Seeing the familiar apartment complex at the end of the block picked your pace up a step more. You paused your music once you neared the entrance, just a turn away before you could finally bury yourself in your bed. 

You reached into your pocket to grab your wallet. The weight in your palms instantly reminding you to deposit the cash tips sometime soon before the stretch of the leather had become unbearable to fit in your pocket. 

Your walk slowed as your attention was fixated on your wallet, fumbling it open clumsily to retrieve your keycard. In midst, you caught a glimpse of a photo print of you and Peter, standing shoulder to shoulder with the biggest grins as Peter had a peace sign above your head, doubling as bunny ears. Honeymoon phase, they’d call it. Where you were beginning to discover more about Peter, and Peter was beginning to discover more about you. Likes. Dislikes. Hobbies. Memories. It felt like yesterday when you two were spending every second of your day with each other. 

Now, it would be a miracle if Peter returned a call.

With the keycard in your hand, you turned the corner, and towards the entrance, the smiles from the photo print reflecting onto yours as you could vividly hear Peter’s pleas to retake them again. The flash of the cameras always made him blink.

If only you had been focusing on where you were going instead of the still image of the first memory between you and Peter, maybe you could have avoided the collision altogether when you approached the door. You suddenly found yourself on your back, facing the night sky as clusters of stars twinkled in laughter. There was a slight throbbing to your forehead, a mark you’d reckon would appear as purple within the next 12 hours despite the painless… pain.

“Oh god— I’m so, so, so, sorry! Let me—“ If the beating your face took to the door hadn’t snapped you back to reality already, the familiar face before you certainly pulled you out of your thoughts like whiplash once he helped you back onto your feet. Your vision instantly cleared of haze, as if his simple presence was your remedy.

“(M/N)?” Peter interrupted himself, his eyes widening. You could see the wheels turning in his head when the dim light spotlighted your features: eyes, nose, lips; flesh and bone that he was well-acquainted with.

“Peter—“ You took a moment to scan him. It was like all the other times he had been late. His fringe; stuck to his forehead with a mixture of sweat and water, the latter being a last resort to clean himself up. His knuckles; bruised and torn with minuscule cuts barely able to conceal the truth behind his scars. His necktie; clumsily done with the knots coming loose. Though, whether the silk unfurled by Peter’s own sloppiness, or by the increasing frailty of his fingers that had become susceptible by even the most delicate material of neckties; it was futile to mention it to him. You knew he’d shut you down with another excuse.

“W-what are you doing here? Are you okay? I-I’m so sorry—I was on my way to you and—Oh god, you’re bleeding!“ Breathless, panting, not only because he was panicking from running late. 

But because of adrenaline. You could see it in his eyes. The alertness. The high.

“What—“ You wiped your nose with the back of your hand, only to see a smear of blood blotted across your skin. “Shit.” 

Another thick drop splattered in greeting.

“Peter, it’s a nosebleed. You’re acting like I had my arm chopped off or something.” You’ve been applying pressure to your nasal bridge, pinching it tightly to barricade the stream of blood. All while you had your head tilted over Peter’s sink, in case of the blood leaking past your hold. “And how long does it take to find a cotton ball?”

“I’m trying—“ His one-sided game of hide and seek with the bag of cotton balls was leaning in favor of the latter. Medicine cabinet: empty. Bedside drawer: foreign coins and bills. You were watching him from the corner of your eye, a small limp to his step when the lightbulb seemingly lit up overhead and had him dashing towards the kitchen. 

“Found it!”

Peter’s touch was delicate. Tender, like the forming bruise on your forehead. He was adamant on taking care of you, even if frankly—you would’ve done it much faster had it been a solo endeavor. Cotton balls were plugged up into your nose, and a warm face towel was laid across your forehead. If an intruder had the audacity to rob Peter’s apartment, you’d imagine you would find yourself lucking out. Peter joked that you looked like patient zero.

“All done. See? Nothing to cry about.” He was joking again, the smug smile across his face a clear indication of it—and the laugh that he couldn’t help but contain.

“Ha. Ha. Thanks, Dr. Parker. Now, how much do I owe you? I’m paying outta pocket.” For a brief moment, you forgot that you were upset earlier. All because of how nice it was to actually see him again. He pressed a kiss to your lips, a comforting gesture if his constant apologies weren’t enough. Stay focus. 

“So, about dinner…”

“Oh,” Disappointment softened Peter’s smile. You could see it tightening, even as he was organizing his room. Though, it was really a matter of tossing his clothes on the floor back into the laundry basket. “Listen, my… bike got stolen and—“

“Peter…” You sighed, pinching your nose bridge because you feared another avalanche of a nosebleed incoming. That, and because it helped you maintained your composure. “You said that the last time. Three times, actually.”

“Third time’s… the charm?” He was joking. Again. But even he wasn’t laughing at it because he’d been cornered. Called out. Embarrassed that he thought that would even work on you. Embarrassed that he thought he could get away with it. 

Again.

“Peter.” You called out, straightening your posture against the headboard of the bed when he sat at the end of the mattress. Shit, it’s happening.

“I… I don’t know how to…” The veins in his hands, they lined perfectly to the cuts, scrapes, and bruises on his knuckles. Clear as day now that he wasn’t hidden under a dim light. “I just…”

He had his hands around his face, rubbing his temples, his cheeks, his nose, anything that could alleviate the accelerating drill of his heartbeat. 

You were hopeful to get an answer out of him. A proper explanation. But it pained you, knowing that in a few seconds—what he would tell you would only confirm your yearning suspicions of his strange behavior.

He doesn’t love you anymore. He’s cheating. You’ve become a nuisance, an absolute bore in his life. Actually, you’re a bad influence on him. You’re holding him back. He needs to let go of you to accomplish better things. He never loved you.

It’s happening. It’s fucking happening. All he has to do is say those words. The dreaded five words you’ve heard once from him in a nightmare.

I want to break up.

“If you want to break up, just say it.” 

It sounded softer in your head, but the tears that had welled in your eyes finally bursted into droplets. They ran down your cheeks, and your voice broke during its pursuit. 

Something commanded you to let those words slip out. 

Maybe it was the ghost that you and him had been theorizing about since the night you’ve helped him move into the apartment floor above you. Carrie; you nicknamed her, and Peter would scold you for doing so because he had the suspicions that giving her a backstory would ultimately reassess his home as a possessing ground. To this day, he swore he saw a shadow looming in the corner of his room on a perfectly stormy night.

Or maybe it was the months of frustration that you had accumulated, snowballed because of your own selfish reasons to continue being with Peter for as long as you could, even if you saw the signs, because you couldn’t bear to see yourself without him. Live, when you two had promised so many futures together.

“What? No, (M/N), that’s not—“ He jolted up at the mere mention of separating from you. There was a chill. The room suddenly felt colder, and then warmer—scorching hot, when the glossiness of your gaze reflected into his. He began joining you by your side. “Hey, hey, I would never—“

He broke into a cold sweat. He’d never seen you like this. And to think that he was the root of this—of your pain—it was all overwhelming.

“Peter, there’s always something going on with you. Y-you don’t text me for days. You ignore my calls. You disappear without telling me. You’re always late. And… you’re always hurt? And you think that I’m dumb enough to not notice that you aren’t? How you’re limping? How you’re always bruised and—For god’s sake, Peter, I’m just as smart as you, we have the same GPA and—“ You took a breather, a gulp because you were rambling now. Your cheeks felt hot, from your sudden outburst and from embarrassment, because the latter half of your rant immediately negated the idea of some kind of affair.

“Okay, maybe you aren’t cheating, but—“ You felt him tug you into his arms, but you wouldn’t budge. Instead, you pushed away, edging to the other side of the bed to face him.

“I would never.” He sighed, his arms dropping as soon as you removed yourself from his embrace. 

“Then what is it? You’re leaving me in the dark here. I barely see you anymore, you know that?”

“I know.” He was biting his lips. Chewing, as if he was internally debating something. A decision that could either ruin you, ruin him, or both.

“Then?”

You waited. Watched his fingers fiddle with one another as he continued turning the screws in his head. Your heart would jump whenever he would open his mouth, anticipating whatever had caused so much turmoil in his life, but there was a last minute decision that kept him silent.

Crickets.

Nothing.

“I don’t… I don’t know what you’re doing. But you’re getting hurt and I’m just… worried.” Your gaze dropped to his hands again. Pale, veiny, and full of life yet they’ve looked like they’ve been worn out. Torn. “At least tell me it’s not gambling.”

“Well—in a way with my life, it kind of is like gambling—“ He thinly smiled, hoping it would at least make you crack a smile.

“Peter!” You scoffed, nudged his side with your elbow out of frustration, then surrendered when you brought your knees up to your chest, and buried your head in between your knees. “Not funny.”

“Okay, okay, just… you can’t tell anyone.” His voice softened.

“We all know that between you and I, you’re the one with the running mouth.” Your voice muffled in the space between your legs, hands tucked around your nape.

“I’m serious, (M/N)” Pleading now, he held your hand in hopes to get ahold of your attention again, squeezing so you’d look at him. You do.

“I won’t tell.” It was a promise. Peter didn’t need you to clarify because he could see it in your eyes, honest and sincere. Determined, as if you were willing to protect him.

“Okay… and also, don’t… freak out.” Peter was off the bed now, wandering in the middle of his room as he rolled his shoulders back, relaxing the muscles in his back like a wrestler preparing for his next fight. He gestured for you to follow him out to the stairway, out into the cold. 

“Why would I freak—“ There was something around his wrist. No, wrists. You thought they were watches, but there were two devices around him. They were strapped with a similar black leather to your wallet, to Peter’s, and a red button protruded in the middle of it. “Peter, what are you—“

You stopped a few feet before Peter, watching him closely, yet afar. Afraid, yet intrigued. Concerned, because he was on the ledge of the staircase now, perched like an animal. Yet there was a grin on his face. Not crazed like a madman considering he was acting like one, but foolish. Goofy, giddy like the times he’d hide stuff from you, and wait until you’d notice it was gone.

“Like I said, don’t freak out.” 

“Peter, what are you even—“

With that, he opened his arms like wings that spanned across his back and flipped into the air as if the wind would carry him across city to city. As if he was recruited as a sponsor to the heavenly gods with the incredible height he’d taken off in, pursuing the clouds, the wind, the stars, and the night simultaneously all in multiple slings.

Into. The. Air.

Into the fucking air.

You raced forward with a yelp, as if you would’ve made it in time to catch him. To catch his hand before he fell. To hold him one last time before he’d land on the ground and shatter every bone in his body.

If he had landed. 

No, you blinked once—twice—no, at least in the double digits because this was all a dream. It was all a dream, right? That you caught a glimpse of Peter somehow slingshotting himself from window to window, from rooftop to satellite, like it was a mundane day job one had to endure to put food on the table, to pay the bills.

Right?

You paced around the stairs, raced towards one floor to another, bending over the railings because—Peter disappeared. He was gone. If he had smashed into something, you would’ve heard him. You would’ve heard him in yelp in pain. You would’ve heard the metal railings shake. You would’ve heard him cry for help. 

Instead, you heard the sound of wind. Whistling as it sailed leaves to the west of you. 

As if it carried a hint along the way.

“Peter?! Peter—Fuck, fuck!” You followed the sound of the whistle. The source of the pitchy sound. Fluttering when your head spun closer to the note, wavering when you were getting colder, then peaking when your gaze lifted, higher, and higher, until it landed on him.

Peter.

Peter, perched over the rooftop of the apartment complex like a bug. The moonlight framed his silhouette, emphasized the texture of his suit; protruding grids that encased him like a nest; and you’ve never been more intimidated. 

Red and blue spandex tightly-fitted over the muscles and body of the man you have been more than well-acquainted with. You’ve seen it before. It was familiar. On the news, on the papers, on the internet.

“You’re freaking out!” He yelled out, clearly amused in your frozen state of shock.

He peered over at you with a smug grin, aimed directly at your bafflement before pulling a mask over his head. It was the icing on top in rendering you utterly incapable of stringing up any words. The lens of his mask reflected off of you, mirrored your astonishment in clear display, and you sensed that would be a memory Peter would be carrying to his death bed.

“What. The. Fuck.”

“Okay, so, just to clarify,” You were winded, still recovering from the heart attack Peter had nearly given you after he took you on for a stroll in the night. Into the sky.

Luckily his bed was right beside you. As soon as your legs gave out, you fell back into his mattress, and stared into the ceiling, speechless. Peter joined you after, bringing you into his arms. He’d always been aware that touching you in any way or form brought you back to reality. “You are… not a cosplayer?”

“Honestly? That would make me way more money than what I’m making right now.” You couldn’t keep your hands or eyes off of him. Peter was still in his suit, and that gave you the perfect opportunity to run your hands over the webbed texture of the spandex.

“Just a few more months until my lease is up. I can move in, and that’ll help with the rent. For both of us.” It felt like silicone, or rubber. Whatever it was, it was durable considering how thin it felt in your fingers when you rubbed it in between them.

“Just like that? You’re not mad?” Your hands came to a halt when Peter suddenly took them, and rested your palm on his cheek, coincidentally on the cut that you’ve never noticed. 

“Why would I be mad?” Quieter. Your voice mellowed into a whisper as you catalogued the amount of beatings his skin had taken. Caressed the marks you were too selfish to notice. Exhaustion wore on his face, and yet he never looked so peaceful as he gazed into your eyes. 

Pretty eyes, Peter thought. Ones that could motivate him to get back up after falling. That feels nice, when you pressed a kiss to his damaged skin. A touch that made him believe there was a reason to suffer, to be great, to be all of this.

“Well, for starters, it’s your birthday and… I completely blew it.” Peter closed his eyes when you began brushing his hair back, knotted in cold sweats, but you fanned your fingers out to undo them until they felt somewhat tidy in your strokes. Smooth and soft. He sighed, “Again.”

“Can’t entirely blame you. How would I look if I were to complain about missing you, when you’re out there risking your life for everyone?” It wasn’t a question, but you wanted him to look at you. To respond. And he does, when you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, and he returned it with a silken one, a following grin. “All I wish for was that you told me sooner, I guess.”

“Yeah,” He figured he’d save the details of the ‘friends’ he had made along the way some other time. For now, it was all about you. “Wow, you’re not even going to wish for me to be safe?”

“Hey, you know what I mean! That’s a given.” You rubbed at his chest, finding yourself quickly accustomed to the scales of his costume. The red was striking against your palms, comforting almost. 

“Still. I want to hear you say it.” Peter rolled onto his side and slipped an arm under your back, scooting closer to you. His signature goofy grin never failed to knock a similar one out of you. And unwillingly drawn out, when he began pinching at your sides in quick snips.

“Stop—“ You laughed, your hands occupying themselves to defend your body from his quick attacks. But Peter was fast, avoiding your arms and hands to find another opening that you’d abandon. “Stop, stop! Stay safe! Happy?!”

Closer and closer, you found yourself beneath him, framed by his body as he took your arms above your head and pinned them secured with his tight grasps.“Incredibly.”

Your legs spread open to make room for his body, only for Peter to wrap them around his waist, to press his body into you, kissing you like he was driven to steal your breath.

“This your way of making it up to me?” You broke apart from the kiss, only briefly, before the taste of Peter, the softness of his lips reeled you back in for another kiss. Languidly paced until one’s accelerating lust for one another had taken ahold of the wheel and shifted gears, into a weightiness that kept your mouth parted open while Peter’s impulse to explore you had become evidently clear.

“Problem with that?” He’d been driving his hips into you, grinding his front with your own. Both clothed, infuriatingly covered, but the pressure in between your bulge and Peter’s was too pleasing to ignore. Too satisfying to make him stop. “I should take this off—“

“No, wait—“ You grabbed his forearm when he reached back to unzip his suit. To be honest, you never thought about how he even got in or out of the suit in the first place, but that was beside the point. Something about this suit, this costume, whatever you wanted to call it; it was a turn-on. 

The way it fit snug against Peter’s body; how every fiber of muscle was stretching the material to its limit. Maybe you were just turned on because you associated it with him being a hero. For god’s sake, that was as much of an aphrodisiac one could be if you happened to be saved from a falling tower. 

Or maybe, it was simply how Peter looked in it. Unabashedly handsome, yet himself, seemingly courting you further into his webs, as if he hadn’t already from day one.

“Keep it on. I like it.” You muttered, fiddling with the collar of his suit. It was snapped on tight, but you managed to slip a finger or two past, to pull at it with a stretch.

“Then how are we going to…” He abandoned the few inches he had unzipped, providing a small relief to the squeeze around his body while his broad back was bare and tense towards the ceiling. 

“Then, you’ll take it off. But for now, I just want to…” One hand was on his nape, pulling him down for another heated kiss, while the other traveled south between your body and his. Further, lower, until you cupped him at his crotch. Rubbing, squeezing, and palming at the thick, growing center. “Want to try something…”

You could feel him smiling, a crooked one flattened against your own grin when he whispered, “I should’ve told you sooner, shouldn’t I.”

“You think?”

You were getting harder, your pants beginning to tighten around the center as you palmed him. It was a heavy handful in the beginning, but Peter’s bulge began to unfurl. It didn’t take long, didn’t take much of a stroke for him to unravel from his tuck and thicken into a full-blown erection towards the left side of his thigh. It pointed downwards, the plump head evident through his suit, and you were beginning to drool in Peter’s mouth at the haziest image of it.

“Come on, I need to get out of this… It’s killing me.” It wasn’t like Peter to beg. It was charming, cute, sexy, all the synonyms that could describe how you felt all day and every day about him, and you squeezed, because he wasn’t being patient with you.

“Birthday boy gets what he wants, don’t you think?” He winched into your mouth, and you swallowed him. Swallowed every ounce of breath, and breathed it back out with a kiss. Sloppy, heavy, your tongue weighing on his because you wanted to keep his lips apart, mouth open to hear his moans.

Peter grunted again once you began stroking his cock, touching him like it was a delicate plate of chin. Fingertips only, dusting him off with little pressure so he wouldn’t shatter.

“What are you going to do about it, hm?” You continued your short, limp strokes. “Just going to take it? Hm?” Your wrist was weak, lazy as it became limp to tease him even more. Peter sucked in a breath, doing his best to maintain his composure, but it was all futile, all those attempts of sucking in his lip to chew, to hold back his moans, because you’d slap his clothed cock, grasp it tight in your hand, and massage as much as you could gather.

“Fuck, baby—“ You had him under your control. Even if his hands were free, you knew he wouldn’t lay a finger on you. He knew that if he did, you’d stop touching him, stop stimulating the blood running down every vein of his cock, fueling his erection. His desires. 

He couldn’t let that happen. Not after the day, the week, the months that he’d been having. 

You and Peter eventually switched places: Peter resting on his back while you sat in between his legs, marveling at the stretch of his suit. Somehow, his cock looked bigger than you’d remember. Squished and pressed flush against his thigh like this. The suit was like a magnet, inviting your hand back to his cock and refusing to let you go.

“Just relax.” You commanded him. He was watching you slouched up against the headboard, gravity weighing his eyelids lower. With his legs spread apart, he provided you excess space as you began massaging his right thigh with your free hand. “Is this okay?”

“Mm-hm...” He knew you were talking about the pressure on his thigh, but the strokes over his cock remained supreme in his mind. Championed through as you pressed harder into the shaft, massaging tenderly from vein to vein. The protruding webbed texture of his suit pressed into him, rolled against cock like the inside of a fleshlight, ultimately adding onto the already gratifying pleasure. 

It was glorious.

“More…” Peter gritted through his teeth, a selfish need for more escaping from his lips in huffs. Grunts, when you’d fulfill his wish with two hands now, kneading his cock like dough. 

Thick, stiff, throbbing dough.

Before the complaints could come pouring in, you shimmied your pants off in a hurry, tossing it in the corner before greedily climbing onto Peter’s lap. It was like he read your mind, perhaps another secret that he’d been hiding, because he immediately took you into his arms. An embrace, a tight one that grounded you against his bulge, pressing your body weight until it restricted the blood flowing into his erection, as well as preventing an escape.

“You’re so hard…” You marveled at how rigid he’d gotten under you, grinding your ass against the large mass, beating and throbbing with every rut.

“I’m so hard.” He confirmed, complained, and bragged all in one smile. He then took you by the nape to kiss you again. Hard on the mouth, slow with his tongue to taste you and your desires, his desires. His other hand rested on the small of your back, guiding your grinds at first before his fingers looped into your waistband, tugging once before stuffing the strap under your ass cheeks. Your hard-on was the only thing keeping the cotton material from slipping off while you continued grating your hips. “Just like that…”

To make it easier for you, Peter repositioned his erection so it was facing north, towards his navel, in its sublime mass. Your briefs had been tossed to the side now, completely bare bottomed against him while you mounted over him, and rode in needy strides. It was a sight to behold, something that Peter reckoned he should savor. He folded his arms behind his head, providing a self-made cushion for the weight of it, and watched you. It was entrancing, like a dance. You swiveled your hips to a ghosting rhythm, one that could only be heard between two hearts, two parties, between the two of you, man to man.

“Like this…?” Breathless, you unbuttoned your shirt open, but left it present on your body. Sweat formed over your neck, dribbled down to your bare and exposed chest;  it was practically an open-invitation for Peter to ravish you. And so he did, with a haunting groan as he held you, contained you in the warmth of his arms as he simultaneously pulled you forward, and pushed himself off the headboard to meet you in the middle.

He kissed you on the neck, achingly hard when he sucked, and then enthralling, sweat-inducing when he bit into your skin. He couldn’t contain himself. You tasted too good, and it’d been too long since he had you just like this. “Just like that. Your cock against my cock, fuck. I love it so fucking much.” He muttered hot against your neck, panting because he was sweating too. The spandex felt tighter on his skin, constricting against him with every drop of sweat.

“Oh, fuck…” His lips had latched onto your nipples now. Peter’s tongue worked magic on your two nubs, flicking and swirling over their perkiness until you felt swollen. Raw, when he bit, pulled, bit, and bit again. You buried your face into his hair, rocking yourself back and forth with your arms holding him close to your chest, gliding your cock against his print as if a gun was pointed to your head, like your life depended on making Peter come.

You were delirious, humping Peter without a single thought other than to get him off, and you’d reckon that was the goal lingering in Peter’s head as he began rocking back into you. It took a while for him to find your rhythm, chasing after it in slower, sluggish beats, but eventually he caught up to you, snapping his hips against your own, grinding his cock against yours like two crescent moons caressing the other’s curvature.

“Close…” He muttered into your shoulder. Your shirt was hanging off, exposing more of your skin, but Peter made sure you didn’t feel a single chill with the marks he had followed up with soon after. It was like he had done it on purpose. Made you feel safe in his arms, comfortable in the warmth of his body, worshiped with the amount of care he had given your body. Frozen, when you felt something prod at your pucker. Then enraptured, when Peter pushed a wet finger inside of you. 

Tremors, chilling tremors ran down your spine as you took the single digit Inside of you with one determined push. “Fuck—“ Your back arched, chest pushed forward towards him, and your hips jolted forward in one strong, and delicious swipe against Peter’s cock. “Peter…”

It was a mouthwatering display of food before him. The perky nubs on your chest, the veins in your neck, the mole on your body, the strain of your thighs on overdrive, the swollen head of your cock; Peter didn’t know what to lay his finger on first, what to mouth on, what to kiss, and suck, and latch onto until you’d scream. Whichever it was, he knew you were desperate for him. Begging, sweating, whimpering, for Peter to lay a finger on you. Another finger inside of you now, and you rolled your eyes at the stretch he was providing you with, a fulfilling wish that startled your hips once more.

“You’re so good, so good for me…” Peter was staring up at you, marveling at the layer of sweat on your body. It glistened with every movement, dripped heavily with every thrust of Peter’s fingers, and tasted just like how he remembered. Salty when he licked up your neck, up your chest, against your nipples, and repeated. Your body was his, and Peter was determined to let the world know. Determined to remind you in case that you’d forgotten.

Your hands were wandering. Grabbing and touching at anything and everything that could linger in between your fingers. Peter’s hair, his head, shoulders, chest, your cock and his, his back. Everything. You couldn’t keep your hands off of him. Even if he was covered from head to toe, you were touching him. Because he was yours.

“Gonna come—“ You cupped Peter’s jaw to straighten his posture, to kiss him sloppily on the mouth, and he pulled his fingers out of you, resting them on either side of your hips as he joined you once again in grinding hips. The pleasure was overbearing, drilling into each individual brain until the smallest movement would render you both speechless. Panting in slurred moans of each other’s names, of profanities that you two had rarely used in your lifetime on earth.

“Me too…” Peter pushed himself on top of you now. Your arms were tied around his neck, tighter than the necktie he had on prior, and your legs; they wrapped around his waist equally secured, if not even tighter, as he thrusted against you. 

You were too distracted, unable to respond to Peter’s constant licks in your mouth. He was desperate for you, suckling on your tongue and chasing after it once it slipped out because of your moans. They were rattling, each breath immediately vaulted in the back of Peter’s throat because he couldn’t part from you. Couldn’t imagine a life where he would. And if he had to, at least he’d have a part of you inside of him. Even if it was a whisper. 

He thrusted harder, panting into your mouth, his nose practically smushed flat against yours. He wondered if you could imagine that life, a life without him.

“P-Pete—Shit, I’m—“ Your fingers dug into his nape, grounding him impossibly closer to you when that feeling had suddenly come to stun you in place. 

It simmered hard in your stomach, then to a rolling boil as it traveled lower to your pelvis. You squeezed your stomach, clenched your toes, and your eyes widened when Peter’s hips showed no signs of faltering. Your cock swelled and your balls jolted, tightened, until you finally saw stars bursting into flames and let gravity have it come crashing down on you. Shivers had you enclose your arms around Peter, holding onto him tight as you felt yourself crumble and spill all over your chest and his suit. You came with a gritted grunt of his name, sinking your nails into his nape because you had nowhere else to channel your spasms as Peter kept rocking against you, drunkenly astonished by how you came for him. By how much you needed him.

It didn’t take long before Peter came right after. He buried his head into your neck, stifling moans into the heat of your neck, clammy with sweat, yet comforting as he filled the inside of his suit with thick, large loads. You felt his cock throb against you when you reached down to help, to ride out his orgasm to the fullest. His cock pulsed as you’d imagine several thick pumps of his load would gush out and uncomfortably layer his navel. If only his suit hadn’t been waterproof, because there was no doubt that he would’ve been leaking out of it by now.

You’ve never been so jealous of spandex.

He was hot in your ear, panting, breathing you in, then breathing you out as you slowed the strokes on his softening cock. Then a sudden inhale, a jolt of his body, when you squeezed hard, to seal the deal in covering the entirety of his cock in his own cum. It was filthy. It was shameless. It was Peter.

“Driving me crazy here…” Peter sluggishly lifted himself off of you to face you, a sleepy smile plastered across his face as you kept kneading at his cock, increasingly sensitive with every second.

“Not enough to drive you away, right?” You smiled, drowsy yourself as you quickly found your high coming to a crash. Though, you mustered enough strength to hold Peter’s cheek in your palm, tenderly caressing, to which he immediately kissed as soon as it reintroduced itself. 

Peter sighed, holding your gaze for what felt like minutes, and yet you wished it could be for longer. 

It was different this time, the way he looked at you. The same amount of love and warmth, yes. But they no longer wavered, no longer tried to find something else to look at in case you were prying about. 

“Never.” 

Instead, they stilled, relaxed the longer you stared into him, into those brown eyes of his, because you were in now. 

You were finally in his life.

How much you needed him?  His question had been answered.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[im-sleepdeprived]

can you do one where peter gets hurt a little bit and gets all whiny and crap and the reader is trying so hard to stay focused. LOVE YOUR STORIES BRO!!!!!

I LOVE THIS IDEA !!! it’s definitely such a peter thing to do. here’s a short, cutesy little thing, i hope you like it and im sorry it took me so long to get back to you💞✨ !! warnings are just peter being a big whiny baby whose desperate for affection, small mentions of injuries, 1,3k wc <333

“Ow!”

“Peter, be quiet! Stop whining, I’m almost done.”

“I’m in pain, baby,” he whined. 

It hadn’t been a surprise to be disturbed by a knock on your window, Peter usually stopped by after patrol which was why you’d started leaving it open for him. But when he hadn’t slid the window open after those few soft taps, you’d gotten a little worried. 

So you’d gotten out of bed to open for him, only to find your boyfriend perched before you, mask off, pouting heavily at you. 

Of course, you’d helped him in and gotten him laying across your bed so you could start to clean him up. You’d started keeping a first-aid-kit at hand since you’d found out he was Spider-Man. It had been of great use. 

But it hadn’t taken you long to realize that his wounds, as far as his usual patrol wounds went, weren’t bad. Not at all. In fact, you were positive that he could’ve gone home, slept the rest of the night, and woken up good as new as if nothing had happened in the first place. Maybe your boyfriend had forgotten that he had super-healing abilities. 

Or maybe he just liked the way you babied him.

“Oh, are you now?” You asked, glancing up at him with a raised brow. There was really nothing for you to do other than wipe the few cuts and scratches with antiseptic and place small bandaids over them. He just enjoyed pestering you.

“Yes,” he said so seriously, you almost laughed. This Peter was a stark contrast to actually-injured-Peter, who would do everything he could to assure you he was fine when he was literally bleeding out before your eyes. You didn’t like that. At least this was funny. 

“Petey, baby,” you laughed softly, adjusting a small bandaid on the high of his cheekbone where he’d had a small scrape. “You’re actually pretty put together tonight. Must’ve been a pretty quiet night, hm?”

“No,” he sighed dramatically, grabbing the wrist by his face gently, keeping you close to him. “No, it was horrible sweetheart, I’m gonna need extra care tonight. You know, to help the trauma.”

Shaking with laughter, you leaned in and pecked his cheek, right beside the cut you’d just bandaged. “The ‘trauma’, Petey? Really?”

A large, dopey grin broke over his face as you pecked his cheek and he squeezed you wrist a little. “There. That’s perfect, such a big help sweetheart, you have no idea what you do for me. You make the pain bearable, pretty girl.” 

You rolled your eyes affectionately, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “There, all better?” You asked him as you pulled away where you were met with a scowl.

“Y/N, honey, I’m suffering! I’m knocking on death’s door, angel! Give me something!”

You absolutely lost it at that, falling back onto the bed in a fit of giggles. “I can’t help you when all you do is whine!” When you opened your eyes, Peter was hovering over you, trying to keep his little facade of being upset and in pain, which was fruitless with the large smile blooming on his lips.

“You’re so mean, you know that?”

“Oh really? I’m the mean one?”

“Yes! You just found out your boyfriend, the love of your life, your future husband, the father of your future children—”

“What?!”

“—is dying, and what do you do? You laugh!!”

Another laugh escaped you, this time the sound infecting Peter as well. “I-if you’re dying, doesn’t that mean you won’t be my husband or the ‘father of my future children?” You manage out between laughs.

Peter gasped offendedly. “I…I…” he tried to defend himself to no avail. You’d caught him. 

You laughed even harder. “It’s okay, Petey. I’ll tell my future children all about you.”

He didn’t seem to like that very much. In one swift motion, his hands were on your hips, picking you up as he laid back on the bed again, his back pressed against the headboard before he plopped you down onto his lap.

“Oh hi,” you grinned at him, loosely looping your arms over his shoulders, his own hands coming to rest on your waist.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured, his eyes soft and loving as he looked up at you.

Leaning down, you pressed your forehead against his. Peter’s hands tightened on your waist, tugging you closer till your chest was pressed against his. 

“I have another wound you haven’t patched up for me yet.” He spoke softly. 

“Yeah?” You asked, fully expecting him to be playing a bit, the smile already starting to tug at the corners of your lips. “Where, sweetie?”

He smiled right back at you, sticking his hand between where your chests were pressed together and pressing on the spider emblem on the center of his suit, making the fabric deflate with a soft breath and flood around him.

Pushing the suit away for him, you noticed a scratch on his chest you hadn’t realized was there before, making you frown. It wasn’t deep and it wasn’t bleeding, but it was long and a harsh shade of red, the skin around it tinged pink with irritation, and it definitely could’ve used a cleaning. 

“Petey, baby, why didn’t you show me this before?” You asked softly, shifting in his lap as you leaned over to grab the kit again. 

Peter sighed, biting back a smile. This was exactly what he’d needed, that soft, gentle voice of yours you used on him whenever he stopped by bruised and banged up. “Why, you think it’s bad sweetheart?”

“No, no, thank god…” you muttered as you got to work on the scratch. “But I bet it burns. Does it hurt, honey?”

“Yeah,” he answered, letting out a soft groan for show as he leaned further back against your headboard. One of his hands left your waist and found it’s way to your hair, playing with the strands and giving one a gentle tug every now and them. 

“Peter,” you grumble, refusing to look up at him.

“Your hair is so soft.” He murmured in awe, as if he’d never seen anything like it before. 

“Genetics.” You deadpanned. “Now stop distracting me, I’m trying to help you!”

“You are helping me, pretty girl. Just watching that gorgeous face while you bandage me up is doing half the healing already.” Another tug to your hair. 

You swatted his hand away before poking his side with a soft smile. “No bandages for this one, sorry Pete. I’m just gonna have to heal you with kisses.”

“That sounds great,” he beamed widely. “Your kisses make me heal way faster than bandages, trust me, I speak from experience.”

Ignoring him, you leaned down and peppered a few soft kisses along his chest, staying beside the cut but never kissing the wound itself. You could feel his breathing stutter, the rhythmic movements of his chest turning irregular beneath your lips. 

Peter hands on your waist tightened, his grip pushing you down on his lap. “Baby…” his voice was a soft, desperate thing, a deepness in his tone that made your stomach flip. Well that wasn’t right. 

You sat back up, picking up a leg to swing over and slide off his lap but his hands on your waist slid down to your thighs quickly, stopping you.

“What’re you doing, pretty girl?” The utter betrayal on his face almost had you second-guessing what you’d done for something way worse. “Why’d you stop?”

“You’re hurt, Petey,” you answered simply, “we’re not doing anything tonight.”

“W-what? I’m not hurt, no, I’m fine! I’m perfect!”

“Really? I thought you were at death’s door.”

“Oh that…Yeah, no, he sent me away. Said it wasn’t my time.”

“Right, of course,” you murmured, nodding your head with all seriousness.

“Your kisses were working,” he stated sincerely, “you have to keep going!”

“Whatever you say, handsome.” You smiled, leaning in to press your lips to his. 

[spideykuri]

#1 You Right. ⊹♡

Warnings- MDNI | Smut 18+ Andrew!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader, no plot, straight smut, more like a blurb, oral sex; giving, pet names Summary; Cuddling turns into something else realll quickly, especially with Peter.

Notes; I literally am so down bad for him, it's awful. This is just a first post type of thing. I had to shorten it.. I wrote this in my notes app, I'm calling this series the notes app edition. Hope you all enjoy! (I'm terrible at making tags so apologies that I missed some.) 502 wc! Pretty short.

Touching sometimes becomes too much, especially for you. At first, this was just a simple cuddle time; you were just drawing and peter was behind you making sure you were comfortable, that’s all.

Now, you’re on your knees taking his length like the little slut you are for him. Fuck.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby girl.” He tossed his head back in completely ecstasy.

You’re swirling your tongue around his tip so gently, stroking his length gradually. Never wanting to disappoint him, you take him in your mouth once more, continuing to swirl your tongue and you bob your head up and down at a leisurely pace.

Peter erupted a moan from his throat. “Such a sweet girl.. Keep going for me.” He breathes out.

Your free hand reaches for his balls to give extra stimulation. As you tug and pull on them, you decide to take his length deep inside your throat, choking on it slightly.

Peter’s hips thrust up, causing you to choke more. “Oh, my sweet baby. You’re doing so well.”

His large hands wrap around the sides of your head to hold it in place as he fucks your throat mercilessly, tears start to form at the corners of your eyes.

You can feel his veins pulsing on your tongue, he’s about to cum. At that moment, he pulls out. Mouth wide and eyes blown, you have this pouty look on your face.

“You wanted more, didn’t you sweetheart?” He says mockingly. You whine in desperation, the growing ache between your thighs doesn’t have time for waiting. Peter knows how much you need him, he can smell your arousal. It’s such a strong scent.

Peter’s face is painted with a smirk, eyes dark and low. He picks you up and places you on his lap, your beautiful tits in his face, his cock leaking pre-cum, right in front of your soaked cunt.

Looking up at you, Peter captures your swollen nipple in this mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Coaxed moans fall from your lips, the sounds you make he will never get tired of hearing. Releasing your right tit, he moves onto the left, swirling and sucking on it roughly, straining more moans out of you.

Peter reaches down to play with your clit, the action pulling moans and whines from your throat. You can barely keep still anymore, Peter’s cock right in front of your soaked cunt.

“Pete- I- Please- fuck me. I’m begging you..” The most strained begging you’ve ever done. Peter knows you so well, it’s sickening.

“You want me inside of you baby? Mmm. You sure?” Peter cooes at you. This is just adorable to him, already at edge and you haven’t even came once.

You nod quickly, Peter clicks his tongue.

“Oh, babydoll. You’re going to have to do better than that.” Peter pecks your lips before dipping his head into your neck to kiss it causing you to whimper in need. This is going to be a long night.

[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.”

[backtothefanfiction]

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Eighteen: One Last Game

Summary: It's time for Angel and Peter to put an end to this thing, but not before Harry plays one last game.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!!!! (Seriously, this is a very violent and mature chapter), genre typical content, guns, knives, fighting, torture, violence, hanging, blood, so much blood, smoking, death (duh, was this gonna end any other way)

Word Count: 4.2k+

A/N: It's final battle time kids! Some of this gets real traffic, you have been warned but when you're dealing with this genre, what do you expect. Just a reminder this is the final week of Angel and we will be having a Q&A a chat about all things Angel next week so be sure to leave me messages about your favourite bits and fill up my inbox with your Q's. Anyway, who's ready to see Harry and The Vulture go down?!

EIGHTEEN

SLAP!

Peter’s head throbbed as he came to. His cheek stung from the smack he’d just taken to the face that woke him. “There he is.” Harry’s voice taunted as Peter blinked hard and tried to focus his vision.

‘Wait, Harry?” Peter was confused as his haziness quickly left him. His limbs struggled as he tried to move, rope rubbed at his wrists and a piercing feeling prickled the tops of his arms and across the top of his chest. He looked down to see barbed wire wrapped tightly around his upper body. His arms were fastened behind his back and his legs tied tightly to the front legs of the chair he found himself sitting in.

“Ahhh Pete, you must have known this day was coming?” Harry taunted as he paced a few feet away from Peter.

Peter bristled again, sneering as the barbed wire pierced through his shirt and scratched at his skin. “Harry? What the fuck is going on!” Peter said through gritted teeth.

“Really, Pete? Come on buddy, don’t feign innocence with me.” Harry said as he came and crouched before Peter, his hands slapping against Peter’s thighs. “You know exactly what you did to me. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find out?” Harry sneered as he stood up. He lifted his hand, gun held tightly in his grasp, as he backhanded Peter across the face. The metal of the gun caught him around the mouth, a metallic taste bursting from his lip. Peter paused as he waited for his head to stop spinning, before he spat blood on the floor at Harry’s feet.

“You killed my Dad.” Harry said, his voice a low growl as he stepped forward again, looking down over Peter. Harry began to laugh maniacally as realisation dawned on Peter’s face. “Wooo.” he cried out as he stepped back, scratching at his head with the barrel of his gun. “Didn’t think I’d find out did ya? Tell me Pete, was it revenge for Gwen or did you just need the money to start your little business, huh?” Peter remained silent but spat another small amount of blood, that was pooling in his mouth from his now split lip, onto the floor. “I have to say though, poisoning him slowly and making it look like a medical condition was a clever move. How’d ya manage it, huh? Use your old Spidey powers to sneak in and just slip it in his water at night, huh?” Peter remained silent, holding his resolve as he glowered up at Harry. But Harry wasn’t satisfied with that. Peter watched as Harry’s eyes grew dark before he hit him again, this time hitting him right on the high point of his cheek bone. “ANSWER ME!!” Harry screamed at him.

Peter spat blood at Harry’s feet, clearing his mouth, before he said horsley, “Whisky. I put it in the whisky.”

“FUCK!” Harry shouted as his hands flew into his hair, pulling at it. He then began that low maniacal chuckle again. “You know Pete,” he said as he began to walk closer to Peter once more, his finger hooking into the barbed wire and pulling on it so it pierced Peter’s skin, small drops of blood staining his once crisp white shirt, “I’m gonna make what we did to Felicia look like childsplay. When Angel finds the pieces of you we’re gonna leave for her, she’s not even gonna be able to identify your body.” he threatened as he began to step further back into the shadows of the room. “LIGHTS!” he called out, waving the gun in his hand with a flourish.

There was the sound of two large switches being turned on before the wall in front of Peter was illuminated. Peter’s stomach turned as he saw Hobie, Eddie, Miguel and Ben, a rope tied around each of their necks attached to the rafters above, their feet just about balancing on large oil drums beneath them. “Time to wake up boys.” Adrian said, stepping forward, a large bucket of water in hand as he threw it at them. Each one immediately woke up. It happened so quickly, yet Peter felt like he was watching the moment happen in slow motion.

“NO!” Peter shouted as each one startled awake, their feet faltering on the barrels. Hobie, Miguel and Eddie were quick to realise and right theirs again, but Reilly’s legs kicked out too much and knocked his barrel over completely.

They all watched helplessly as he began to flail around, slowly choking as the air was cut off from his lungs. His face turned red as he grunted from behind the duct tape wrapped around his mouth. It was a slow process as he gradually turned from red to purple. “HARRY! HARRY STOP THIS!” Peter cried out. 

“Uh uh uh. You have no power here Pete.” Harry retorted as Ben Reilly made a few more sputtering noises before stilling, his body going limp. There was a moment of silence as they all took in the gravity of their situation, before Harry started chuckling to himself again. “Ooops.” His intentionally childish voice taunted as his feet danced across the floor towards Peter again. “Now, we’re going to play a little game.” Harry said excitedly as he circled around behind Peter. “Remember when we were kids Pete; and we would sneak into my Dad’s old office and take one of his guns and pretend we were doing target practice.” Harry reminisced enthusiastically. “WELL!” He shouted as he came back around into Peter’s field of vision. “I do believe I see before me, three lovely target dummies.”

“Harry, HARRY! Come on, don’t do this, let’s talk this out.” Peter tried to reason but Harry didn’t like that. There was a loud bang and Peter jumped, the barbed wire rubbing at his skin again, as Harry aimlessly fired a shot in the direction of the three awaiting men. It landed in the wall between Hobie and Eddie, Eddie wobbling slightly on his barrel before steadying himself again.

“Oooh, looks like I may be a bad shot. Guess I really do need that practice don’t I.” Harry teased before firing another shot. This time the bullet grazed Eddie’s thigh and he sneered behind his duct tape gag. “I’m getting closer.” Harry grinned as he turned back to look at Peter.

“HARRY! COME ON! ENOUGH OF THIS!” Peter desperately pleaded. “YOU WANNA HURT ME, HURT ME, BUT LEAVE THEM OUT OF THIS!”

Harry ignored Peter as he fired another shot. There was a loud metallic ping as it hit the rim of the barrel at Hobie’s feet. Harry grimaced with irritation, as Hobie didn’t even flinch. “Harry!” Peter warned as he watched his best friend's face closely, but once again it was no good. Harry took two steps closer to Hobie, the two of them staring each other in the eye as Harry fired a shot that hit Hobie in the shoulder. Although his body held still, Hobie grunted, breathing deeply through the pain. Satisfied, Harry lowered his weapon and began to step back towards Peter.

Peter kept his eyes on Hobie, unable to look at what his best friend had become, as Harry continued to walk past Peter. Peter listened closely to Harry’s footsteps, trying to gauge how far away from him he’d actually walked when his ears tuned into something else. There was the faint sound of a door closing as another heartbeat joined the thrum of sound that surrounded him. He froze. He’d know that heartbeat anywhere. Her heartbeat. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved she hadn’t left, or terrified that she’d just willingly walked into this situation.

“BANG!” Harry shouted in Peter’s ear as he leaned back over his shoulder. Peter jumped as his focus was broken, Harry bursting into devious laughter. “Oh, come on, that was funny.” he teased as Peter stared daggers at him. “Right, right, right.” Harry said leaning over. “Decision time… who gets to die next? I’m thinking eenie meenie miney mo.” He waved the gun in his hand back and forth between Hobie, Eddie and Miguel. “Come on, Pete, say it with me. Eenie… meenie… miney-”

Harry doesn’t notice it, but Peter does as a flash bomb gets rolled across the room in their direction. Peter turned his head, bracing himself as it exploded just as Harry was about to say ‘mo’. 

“Ahh FUCK!” Harry exclaimed as there was a large flash followed by some smoke. Harry was further disorientated by the sound of three gunshots and then a second flash bomb. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!?!” Harry shouted as he attempted to protect his eyes as he turned back and forth searching through the smoke for any signs of movement. “TOOMES?”

Peter kept still as he waited to see what his wife would do next. She was silent as she crept quickly through the smoke, passing behind his chair. He felt the rope around his ankles slacken as they were slashed, before she carefully placed a knife into the palm of his hand so he could start working at cutting his wrists free. 

As the smoke began to clear he saw Hobie, Eddie and Miguel no longer stood hanging atop their barrels. Harry looked furious. Peter couldn’t help but let out his own amused chuckle. It got him another punch to the face. “I don’t know what you’re laughing about Parker, this changes nothing.” he spat.

There was the sound of the large doors at the back of the warehouse opening and heavy footfall as Harry’s cavalry arrived. Peter rolled his eyes as he turned his head to lock eyes with Giovanni Bianchi. He let out a large sigh as he turned back to face Harry. “Really, Harry? This is who you choose to align yourself with. That’s got to be an all new low.” Peter tried to goad and distract him as he discreetly tried to cut at the rope tying his wrists together behind him.

“You’d know all about lows now, wouldn’t you Parker.” Harry replied before turning his attention to Giovanni and his men. “Find the others.” Gio gave a nod of his head before he started giving orders to his men, the group dispersing in and around the warehouse looking for Hobie, Miguel and Eddie.

Harry paused to observe Peter for a moment before he let out his next low chuckle. “Oh Angel dearest.” Harry called out into the warehouse. Peter chewed on the inside of his lip as his temper began to boil under his skin knowing Harry had figured out who it was poking holes in his plans.

“Here.” Toomes said as he stepped forward holding Angel by the back of her jacket as he walked her forward out of the shadows. “Should have run when you had the chance, shouldn’t ya sweetheart.”

Harry let out a loud goblin style cackle as Peter watched his wife be paraded forward, her hands up in surrender. “And give you the satisfaction?” she hissed as she was pushed to the floor at Peter’s feet, “I wouldn’t dream of it. Harry.” She greeted him, turning her head to the man stood to her left before her husband. The way she said his name was like spitting poison from her lips.

“If it isn’t her royal highness herself. Should have known you’d be more trouble than you were worth.” 

“Ahhgg!” she sneered as he grabbed her by her hair and pulled her up from the floor to sit up on her knees to face her husband properly. 

“Now, which one of you should I kill first?” Harry hissed as he leaned down close to her face, his lips dragging across her cheek to taunt Peter. 

“You get your hands off her, Osborn!” Peter threatened.

“Or what? What’s the big bad Spider gonna do?” He hacked a glob of spit at Peter’s lap. Peter pursed his lips in disgust. “Now, there’s two of us…” Harry said, thinking on the spot, “and two of you. Now I think traditionally, our pretty little princess here would be the first to go, you know, cause you the most pain and suffering. But my friend here, he’s already told her that she’d hear you scream, so here’s what I’m thinking- what if we torture both of you at the same time and you can both hear each other scream. Now that really sounds like fun. What about you Angel? How does that sound to you? I think it sounds like a great idea, Harry.” He grabbed her chin, forcing her mouth open and closed as he mimicked her voice. “PERFECT!” Harry replied to himself as he stood, spreading his arms out like a showman. 

There was a gunshot. “AHHHH FUCK!” Harry screamed as a bullet hit him in the shoulder.

It was just the signal Peter needed. He pulled his arms apart, the final threads of rope around his wrists splitting open. He let out a deep roar as he pushed through the pain of lifting his arms, the barbed wire ripping his skin to shreds as he swiftly burst free of it.

Angel stuck out her right leg as she turned herself around, taking the Vulture off guard and whipping his legs out from underneath him as she moved. She pulled her small pistol out of the holder at her ankle before she stood, her other hand reaching back into her waistband to hand over the gun she had stashed there to Peter.

There was a flurry of gunfire as Giovanni’s men began firing at them from the catwalk above. “Shit.” Angel exclaimed as Peter fired two shots back, one of the men tipping over the rail and falling to the ground with a resounding thud, before he pulled her into the shadows. The two of them took cover behind a couple of large crates as shots continued to fire throughout the warehouse.

Before she could get a word out his lips were on hers, kissing her desperately. “I thought you’d gone.” he frantically said as he pulled his lips away from her, his hands pawing at her face to make sure she was really there.

“And miss out on all the fun?” Despite the life or death situation they found themselves in, she couldn’t help but smile. He kissed her again. They were quickly interrupted by two shots that landed in the front side of the crates.

“WHERE ARE YOU PARKER! COME OUT AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN!!” Harry shouted.

“Okay, so what’s the plan?” Peter asked. She raised her eyebrows at him in shock. “I mean you seem to be doing well so far, baby.” He beamed proudly.

“Okay, well…” she hesitated as she began to reach into her pocket, unsure of how he’d feel about her plan. “I thought you might like these.” She said, holding out his web shooters to him.

He tentatively took them from her. “Really? You sure?”

“Come on Pete, we both know this isn’t you.” she said, indicating to his clothes and the gun in his hand. “This is you.” she said as she reached to fold his fingers around the shooters. “The moment you stop working with one hand behind your back, is the moment you’ll become unstoppable.”

He looked at her then and really looked at her. Her clothes, the way she carried herself so confidently with a gun in her hand. He thought back to not six minutes prior when she had fired three precise shots, freeing Hobie, Eddie and Miguel. He thought back on every single moment since that night they had stayed up talking, planning all of this. She had been the real mastermind all along, not him. This was her business, not his. He was just the figure head and Miguel was right, he was nothing without her.

“COME ONNN!!!!” Harry continued to scream.

“I’ll take Harry, you take Toomes.” He said and she gave him a small nod. She turned her body, ready to make her move, but Peter’s arm flew out to stop her. ‘What?’ her eyes silently asked. “Make him pay for what he did to your Dad.” he said, holding out the gun she had originally given him back to her. She smiled.

“You’ve got it Mr Parker.” she said, taking the gun from him.

“God I love you Mrs Parker.” he beamed back as he pulled her back towards him for one last rushed kiss before they parted.

Wood splintered above her head as she quickly shuffled down the line of crates. She sensed a shadow of a body at the corner of her vision and turned, firing a shot straight into one of the Italians' heads. She picked his much larger gun off of his body, sliding the strap over her shoulder as she continued to move, her hand with her smaller pistol in it quickly placed the gun back into her ankle holster.

With both hands to hold her gun steady, she fired another shot across the room and then another as she continued to skirt her way around the edge. When she had just one shot left, she put the safety back on the gun before placing the gun back into a holder at the back of her waistband and switching to the larger gun.

“Hey, Harry!” she heard Peter shout. There was a faint thwipping sound of his web shooter as a strand of webbing attached itself to the ceiling before Peter swung out of the shadows, legs outstretched as he used the momentum from the web to kick Harry straight in the chest, knocking him backwards across the room.

Angel fired one shot after another as she continued to search for the Vulture. She spotted him up on the catwalk in a fist fight with Miguel. Miguel was getting in a good series of punches but Toomes seemed to have some abnormal power behind him as he landed a particular blow to Miguel’s chest that sent him flying backwards. She needed to get up there quickly.

She turned to assess her husband who was currently hunched over Harry’s body laying punch after punch to his face. “PETE!” she cried as she raced across the floor to him. She let out another blast of bullets into the body of another Italian as she ran before discarding the gun as her husband's eyes met hers. She tilted her head upwards towards Toomes who was now striding across the catwalk to where Miguel lay winded, indicating her need. He ran to her.

“Hold tight.” he said as he wrapped an arm around her, firing a web and launching them upwards. He dropped her with a small swing onto the catwalk directly between Adrian and Miguel. She wobbled slightly as she found her balance, giving a nod of thanks to her husband before he went back down to continue dealing with Harry.

Toomes looked her up and down and she shot a glance back to Miguel to check on him. He gave her a small nod and a look that said ‘give him hell’. She reached under her suit jacket for the knife she had previously stashed there, a devilish look spreading across her face as she turned to stare her Father’s killer down. He just sniggered at her.

“Come on, sweetheart, give it your best shot.” he jeered.

She caught him off guard when she threw the knife at him, it lodging just under his collarbone. He sneered, his hand flying to the handle to try and jimmy it free. Angel ran at him, sliding between his open legs before she turned and kicked at his back. His hands flew out to steady himself on the railing of the catwalk before he went flying over the top of it.

He turned back around just in time as she threw a punch at his face, which he narrowly dodged. His movement was just the cover she needed to rip the knife back out of his chest. “Ahhhhggg!!” he screamed as the blade scraped against the bone as it was removed. “You little bitch.” He spat at her as a surge of adrenaline took over him, his hands outstretched as he lunged at her.

She ducked, crouching down at his feet as he passed her. She slashed at the back of one of his calves as his hands grasped for purchase on the railing once more. She stood, taking a moment to let them both catch their breath before his next attempt to lunge at her.

“With all your games, I think you might have forgotten who I am.” she bristled as she widened her stance, egging him on to try to advance on her again. When he ran at her again she was ready. She grabbed his right hand with one hand, plunging the knife in her other hand into the inside of his arm. She used his momentum against him as she ducked under the arm, twisting him as she moved, her knife slicing all the way down his arm, blood splaying across the metal flooring of the catwalk. “I am the daughter of Wilson Fisk.” she said as she pulled the knife free before kicking him backwards. “And the wife of Peter Parker.” She said, stalking over to where he now lay. “And this is my city.” she said as she placed a foot to his chest, keeping him pinned down. She made a show of dropping her knife, it clattering to the catwalk beside her as she reached behind her to pull out her gun with her final shot in it, holding it over his head before she fired, his head ricocheting off the catwalk floor with the force.

She watched as the blood pulled out beneath his body, a weight lifting from her chest, a proud invisible hand on her shoulder. There was another shot in front of her and she looked up to watch as Miguel disposed of his latest kill over the side of the catwalk railing. He took one look between Toomes’ body and hers before he held out a hand to her. She gratefully took it, his other hand coming out to help steady her too, as he helped her step over the Vulture's body.

There were a couple of final echoing shots that bounced off the walls of the warehouse as they made their way back down to the lower level where Peter was still throwing Harry around like a ragdoll. With her adrenaline slowly wearing off, her ribs began to gripe and she leaned against Miguel as Eddie and Hobie joined them, Eddie limping, Hobie holding his shoulder tightly, blood dripping between his fingers.

The four of them watched as Peter placed punch after punch to Harry’s face. When she realised that Harry was out for the count and Peter still wasn’t letting up she finally called out, “Peter! PETE!” It wasn’t her voice but the wince of pain she breathed with that had his fist freezing in mid air. His head slowly turned to her, worried she’d been hurt. When he saw her stood, arm braced tenderly around her ribs he settled.

Angel watched as his eyes went from black, back to their regular molten amber hue as he looked at her. Calming, he slowly turned back to Harry. He was still alive, barely, but his face was unrecognisable. Peter looked from Harry then back to his wife, searching for answers about The Vulture. She turned her head, indicating to the spot on the catwalk where Toomes’ body lay, blood dripping through the grate onto the ground below. She watched as he breathed another sigh of relief before he turned back to look at Harry once more as he reluctantly took a couple of stumbling steps back. It became clear Harry had given almost as good as he had gotten, Peter rubbing at his own ribs, as he began to walk towards Hobie.

“What do you wanna do with him?” Hobie asked as the two men huddled together looking between each other and the body.

Peter took a short moment to think before he turned and shot a web that covered Harry’s entire body. “Stick him on ice.” Peter grunted before he started to walk towards the large doors at the back.

Angel turned to thank Miguel, a gentle hand placed on his bicep as she began to slowly walk after her husband.

She caught up to him outside. He was raiding one of the bodies of the Italians. She wasn’t sure what for until she saw him pull a packet of cigarettes and a matchbook from the guy's pocket. She smiled fondly as she watched him place it to his lips, his body turning to look out at the New York City skyline as he lit it. She breathed with him as he took in a large drag, allowing the nicotine to calm him as it filled his lungs and shot to his brain. He closed his eyes, drinking in the moment as he dropped the match to the floor, his heel absentmindedly stamping it out.

She steadily slipped her hand into his free one, her fingers lacing with his. “You ready to go home?” she asked when he turned his head to look down at her. He smiled, a small chuckle bursting from his lips. 

“Yeah.” He beamed as he dropped her hand, his arm wrapping around her shoulders instead. Holding her closer to him, he placed a content kiss to the top of her head, before they slowly began to walk towards the car.

-----------------------------------------

Just a reminder that this is the last week of Angel. There are two more chapters to come out. Our final piece of smut for the series will be out Friday and our Epilogue to round all this out will be posted on Sunday. If you have enjoyed this story don’t forget to tip me like you would your waiter by reblogging and leaving feedback and letting me know what you think as well as keeping it alive by sharing it with others!

@scmdsblog @angiexsv @thef1nalgirl @did-someone-change-my-name @sincericida @tarzinnia @liz-allyn @blacksoul09 @humxncrxvings @sunnycolors @suicide-sweetheart636 @ahryi @ms-wild-card-56

[amorchai]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐌!𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓.

this is a repost from my old blog. original post was 6,989 notes.

pairing(s): tasm!peter parker x female!reader

words: 660

warnings/tags: established relationship, mentions of r fitting into tasm!peter’s shirt ( tried to make it inclusive as i’m plus size. )

peter was in a grumpy mood. it wasn’t usual that he was these days. not when he was practically renowned across the school for the mood change the second you showed up.

your poor boyfriend known for being so sappily in-love with you.

but he wasn’t able to see you this weekend. he caught a glimpse at your window after patrol both days, lightly knocking the glass while you slept in bed before giving up, not wanting to wake you.

plus his favourite t-shirt was missing. a simple band-tee that he likes to wear occasionally and thought he had left it out to wear for school, only to realise it’s missing, aunt may assuring him it’s not in the laundry basket.

his head is glued to the floor when he walks to his locker, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose while he holds his skateboard under one arm. no glances in anyone’s directions, just wanting to collect his things for first period and go to the class.

yet, peter’s plans are ruined when two hands slide over the expanse of his back, squeezing his shoulders and a small but immediate happy smile tugs upon peter’s lips knowingly. “hey, baby. missed you so much—” he cuts himself off, after turning around to press his lips to yours does he immediately notice the outfit you adorn.

your smile is so bright, enough to make peter’s knees buckle, and there’s a shine in your eye when you greet your boyfriend. your arms instinctively move around his neck while his encircle your waist to pull you close, skateboard hitting the floor, uncaring of the people walking past the hall.

peter’s smile widens, a small noise escaping him as he gapes, “are you wearing my shirt?” it’s the very shirt that he had been looking for, over a long-sleeved top to almost match his own style. and god, you looked so much better in it.

“… is that okay? i thought you wouldn’t mind.” you look down at your attire, smile falling briefly. to which your boyfriend immediately perks up, squeezing your frame before his instincts stop him from pressing too hard, “no! don’t mind, don’t mind at all, baby, no.”

you can’t help giggling at his nature, rambled and flustered as he leans closer to you. warm, wanting more of you, closer. “in fact, you should keep it. looks so much better on you,” with this he kisses you, prolonged and sweet in a wordless i-missed-you way.

your breath wavers after you both pull away, leaning further into his side as peter turns to grab more of his things out the locker. you stare up at him admiringly, “you didn’t drop by after patrol, pete?”.

he glances back down at you, another quipped smile while his lips catch yours briefly, your teeth tearing from your lower lip while you respond. “you were sleeping, baby. i tried,” peter whispers after pulling away, hand caressing your stolen-shirt covered back affectionately while nudging his locker closed and bending down to pick up his skate.

“you watched me sleep? creep.” you tease, smile never faltering as you talk to peter. “sure did, cute thing. you cuddle your pillow when i’m not beside you, y’know?” you just hum as he guides you away, your shoulder bag bumping his hip but peter refuses to remove himself from your side.

“you should really leave your window unlocked, by the way,” peter continues, glancing at one another while you fiddle with the hem of his navy-blue top, “what if someone climbs in?” you ask. “you live twenty stories up, honey, no one but me can sneak in. and if they did, they have a crime-fighting spider who loves his girlfriend to deal with.”

“you’re so cheesy,” you giggle endearingly at your precious peter while leaning up to kiss his cheek, noting that tonight you won’t lock your window in hopes spider-man drops by and replaces your pillow for cuddles.

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[greenparker]

Silent worries| Tasm!Peter Parker x reader

Tasm!Peter Parker x reader. Summary: You wait for Peter’s return from a dangerous night. When he arrives injured, your concern deepens, strengthening your bond as you care for him. Warnings: Bruises, cuts, fluff and a little angsty but thats pretty much all.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆

3:30 AM

It was 3:30 AM, and Peter was still gone.

You knew you should be used to this by now—the late nights, the unexplained absences—but tonight felt different. A knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach as you lay in bed, the rhythmic rattling of the air conditioning filling the silence of your room. You stared at the ceiling, heart racing, the shadows dancing around you like ghosts of your worries.

Every instinct told you that he was okay; he always was. But still, doubt crept in, whispering unsettling thoughts. What if tonight wasn’t like the others? What if something had happened?

You turned your gaze toward the window, half-expecting him to swing in at any moment, that familiar grin lighting up his face. Usually, he’d slip inside quietly, just enough to reassure you before he had to leave again, a promise that Aunt May wouldn’t worry. But this time, the stillness stretched on, heavy and oppressive.

You bit your lip, trying to calm the storm of emotions brewing within you. His absence felt like a gaping hole in your night, and you found yourself wishing more than ever that he would pull that window open and step into the safety of your shared world.

Just a few minutes, you thought. That’s all you needed—to see him, to know he was okay, to feel the warmth of his presence beside you, if only for a fleeting moment.

You grabbed your phone, anxiety gnawing at you. You rarely called him—not because you didn’t want to, but because you’d never felt the need to. Not until now. Your finger hovered over the call button, hesitating as a wave of uncertainty washed over you.

Just as you were about to press it, the shrill sound of your window sliding open startled you, making your heart leap in your chest. You jumped, your breath catching in your throat as you turned to see him silhouetted against the moonlight, the familiar figure that always brought you comfort. But as soon as you saw him, he tumbled through the window, landing awkwardly on your hardwood floor with a loud thud. A groan escaped his pink lips as he struggled to gather himself. “Peter!” you shrieked, panic lacing your voice.

You flung the covers off, ignoring the chill of the night air against your bare legs as you rushed to his side, your heart racing at the sight of him.

Peter looked utterly exhausted, more than usual. His usually bright eyes were shadowed, and there was a weariness about him that made your heart ache. You rushed to his side, instinctively reaching out to help him up. The moment you caught a glimpse of his face, your frown deepened. He was battered, cuts and bruises marring his skin, evidence that something terrible had happened.

“Hey, bub,” he muttered, his voice a mix of exhaustion and casual indifference, as if falling through your window was an everyday occurrence.

Despite his attempt to downplay it, you couldn’t ignore the worry gnawing at you. You felt his hands find their way to your face, his touch gentle yet grounding. “You scared me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “What happened?”

His thumb brushed against your cheek, and for a fleeting moment, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in this small, intimate space. But the reality of his injuries pulled you back. “You need to tell me the truth, Peter. What did you get into this time?” There was a hint of resistance in him as he sighed, rubbing his thumb against your cheek in a gesture of comfort. You felt a heaviness in your heart, the frown deepening as you wished you could see his eyes, usually so full of life, now hidden behind the mask.

“You wouldn’t believe me,” he tried to joke, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, though it lacked its usual brightness. The sound sent a wave of concern through you, and you couldn't help but bite your lip, the worry pooling in your stomach.

“Try me,” you insisted, your voice steady despite the fear creeping in. “I’ve heard some pretty wild stories.”

His smile faded, and you could tell he was struggling to answer under the mask, the weight of unspoken truths pressing down on him. “Well, it’s not every day you get tackled by a giant lizard, right?”

Your heart sank as his words settled in. “A lizard?” you echoed, disbelief mixing with concern. “Peter, how badly are you hurt?”

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut—this was no simple scrape or bruise. He had faced something dangerous, something that could have cost him more than just a few injuries.

“Let me see,” you urged, your voice firm yet gentle. “We need to check how bad it is.” You shifted closer, determination pushing aside your fear as you reached for the edges of his mask.

Peter hesitated, his body tensing for a moment before he relented, nodding almost imperceptibly. “Okay, but promise not to freak out.”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you began to peel away the mask. Beneath it, the truth lay bare: bruises marred his skin, and a deep cut traced across his brow.

“I won’t freak out,” you promised, though your heart raced as the sight of him struck you. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

He gave you a nod, and in one swift motion, you slowly take his mask off, revealing a face that was more battered than you had anticipated. A slice marred his cheek, and a black eye darkened his normally bright expression. But it wasn’t just his face that told the story of his ordeal; it was the silent pain in his eyes that cut deeper.

You felt your breath catch as you noticed the four large slashes across his chest, angry red lines that stood out starkly against his skin. It was as if he had faced a monster, and part of you wished you could have been there to protect him from whatever had done this.

“Peter…” you whispered, your heart racing as you grasped his arm gently, leading him toward your bathroom. The darkness of your room faded behind you, replaced by the harsh light of the small space, illuminating the extent of his injuries.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked, your voice laced with concern as you guided him to sit on the edge of the tub. The sight of him, so strong yet so vulnerable, made your heart ache. “This looks bad.”

He shrugged, a half-hearted attempt at humor. “I’ve had worse. Just another day in the life, right?” But the tremor in his voice betrayed him as he slid the top half of his suit off, and you could see that he was trying to downplay the severity of his injuries for your sake.

“No more jokes, Pete,” you said firmly, your hands trembling slightly as you reached for the first aid kit. “This isn’t just a scratch. We need to clean these up and make sure they don’t get infected.”

As you rummaged through the supplies, you could feel the weight of the moment—the urgency of his wounds, the fear that he might be hiding more than just physical pain. You returned to him with antiseptic wipes and gauze, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Just breathe, baby,” you instructed softly, trying to keep your own fear in check as you cleaned the cuts, your hands steady despite the turmoil inside you. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay.”

He nodded, his gaze flickering to you, and for a brief moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift as he leaned into your touch, seeking comfort in your presence. You worked carefully, your heart breaking a little more with each mark you uncovered, determined to show him that he wasn’t alone in this.

“Why do you always have to play the hero?” you murmured as you tended to the gashes on his chest, your voice thick with emotion as you bandaged one of the deeper slashes. “Can’t you let someone else take a turn?”

Peter’s lips quirked into a faint smile, a flicker of his usual charm returning. “What can I say? It’s in my nature.”

But the joking tone faded, overshadowed by the stark reality of his injuries. “Just promise me you’ll be more careful next time,” you urged, your gaze locking onto his with fierce intensity. “I don’t want to see you like this again.”

He sighed, frustration flickering in his eyes. “You know I can’t promise that, Y/N…” His voice softened, and he reached out to cup your cheek with his hand, thumb brushing gently over your skin. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, grounding you in the moment despite the chaos around you.

“Peter, it’s not fair,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “You’re putting yourself in danger, and I can’t just sit here and wait for something bad to happen.”

He leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I get it. I really do. But this is who I am. I can’t just stop being Spider-Man. I have to help people. You know that.”

Tears threatened to spill as you searched his eyes for reassurance. “But what about us? What if—”

He interrupted, gently placing a finger on your lips to silence you. “Hey, look at me,” he said softly. “I promise to be as careful as I can, but I can’t make guarantees. What I can promise is that I’m here with you now, and I want to be here for as long as I can. You mean everything to me.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and the weight of your fears felt a little lighter in that moment. You nodded, trying to absorb the comfort of his presence. “Just please, be safe,” you whispered, leaning into his touch, desperate to hold onto the warmth of the moment.

“Always,” he replied, pulling you into a gentle embrace. You felt the tension in his body, a reminder of the danger he faced, but also the strength of his resolve. In that closeness, you found solace, knowing that, despite the uncertainty, you would navigate this together.

A comforting silence settled between the two of you, a welcome reprieve from the chaos outside.

You were bent over on the toilet, the cool porcelain a contrast to the warmth radiating from Peter, who sat on the edge of the tub with his legs crossed and a hand resting gently on your knee. He needed to touch you somehow, to feel your presence grounding him amidst the pain. Every once in a while, he would wince as you carefully tended to his wounds, and each flinch twisted your heart with concern. “Thank god you heal fast. I hate this,” you murmured, your voice thick with worry.

Peter hummed softly in response, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Even in pain, he found solace in your care. He loved you for it—your sweet, nurturing nature was a balm to his bruised spirit. You always took care of him, even when his reckless heroics left you an anxious mess.

As you placed the last patch on his shoulder, you let out a sigh of relief, sitting back to survey your work. “All done,” you said, a touch of pride swelling within you. It wasn’t like he could go to the hospital; that would open a whole can of worms and risk revealing Spider-Man’s identity.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said, his voice soft and sincere, the warmth in his gaze making your heart flutter. “You really are amazing.”

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks, and you bit your lip, unable to suppress a smile. “It’s just a bandage. Anyone could have done it,” you replied, trying to downplay your efforts.

“Not like you,” he countered, leaning slightly closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “You always know how to make me feel better, even when I’m at my worst.”

You looked away, suddenly shy under the intensity of his gaze. “Can you stay tonight?” The words slipped out before you could second-guess yourself, vulnerability lacing your tone.

Peter’s expression softened further, and he nodded. “I’d love to.” His thumb gently brushed across your knee, sending a comforting warmth through you. “I’d feel better knowing you’re close by, too.”

Relief washed over you, and you couldn’t help but lean into him slightly, craving the closeness. The world outside seemed a little less daunting with him there, a shield against the uncertainties that threatened to creep in.

“Just try to be more careful next time,” you said, a playful yet serious note in your voice. “I don’t think I can handle another night like this.”

He chuckled, the sound light and warm, wrapping around you like a soft blanket. “I’ll do my best. But you know me—I’m a magnet for trouble.”

“Yeah, but you’re also my favorite troublemaker,” you replied, your smile widening.

In that moment, the air between you felt charged, the weight of unspoken feelings hanging delicately in the space. You found yourself drawn to him, the way his eyes sparkled even in the dim light, the warmth radiating from his body. You hesitated for just a second, then leaned in closer, heart racing.

“Peter…” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

He met you halfway, his hand moving to cradle your cheek, thumb grazing your skin as he closed the distance. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle meeting of lips that quickly deepened, filled with the unspoken affection and connection you both shared. You melted into him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the taste of relief and love lingering as you lost yourself in the moment.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and slightly dazed, you looked into his eyes, feeling a contentment bloom in your chest.

“Guess I’m stuck with you,” you teased lightly, your heart still racing from the kiss.

Peter grinned, his eyes shining with warmth and mischief. “Good. Because I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

In that fleeting moment, the chaos of the world faded, leaving just the two of you, suspended in time, bound by unspoken promises.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆

[wokeupinmars]

The Last Time

Summary: Peter's on the verge of losing you after disappointing you yet again.

masterlist

He didn’t show, the night was over and Peter was nowhere to be found. 

You tried your best to mask your disappointment with a tall face as all the attendees started to trickle out of your college’s art exhibit, a handful of them congratulating and complimenting you on your artwork as they passed you. 

It wasn't until you saw May walking towards you with a sympathetic look on her face that you felt your facade falter, “I’m so sorry darling,” she said as she brought you into a hug squeezing you. 

“It’s fine, May. Thank you for coming, I really appreciate it.” You give her a sad smile pulling away from her. You take a deep breath, “May…I hate to do this but do you think I could get a raincheck on dinner tonight? I just want to go home.”

There’s a visible look of sadness on her face but she nods, “Of course you can, it’s beautiful by the way,” she says, angling her body to face your painting. 

You mimic her actions, giving your painting a one over, “Thanks, I wasn’t sure about letting them display it when my art professor–she's the director of the exhibit asked. But I’m glad I did, a lot of people seemed to like it.” 

“I can see why!” She exclaims. 

Just as you were about to speak, the voice of your professor cut through all the chatter, “Ladies and gentlemen the art exhibit is now closing! Please make your way to the exit!”

You motion for her to follow you as you head to the doors. “How are you getting home? I could give you a ride,” she questioned. You shake your head, "I don’t think I can be around a Parker right now, at least not without wanting to cry.” 

She frowns upon hearing your words, “Oh.” You push and hold the door open for her, “I know this is an unfair thing to ask of you but can you tell Peter I don’t want to hear from him anymore?” 

May freezes the second she makes it outside, fully processing what you just said, “I’m sure he’s sorry–” She’s trying to save him, you both know she is. “I’m sure he is but I’m not interested in hearing his poor excuse of an apology. He knew how important this was to me and he said he’d be here, but he’s not. There’s only so many times you can let a person disappoint you, May.” Your eyes well with tears as you think back to telling him about being a part of the exhibit and how he added opening night to the calendar on his phone as well as the one that hung in his room, even going as far as drawing a heart around the square.

Cars start to whizz by as the traffic light turns green and you let out a defeated sigh, opening your arms to hug her goodbye, “It’s getting late and I don’t want to miss the train, you should head home too.” This time she hugs you tightly, “Give me a call when you get home, alright?”

You nod your head in response, “Thank you for coming, it means a lot to me. Have a goodnight and drive safe, okay?” Her hold on you gets even tighter, mumbling a goodnight to you before releasing you. 

She stands still and watches you disappear down the street before pulling her phone out, attempting to reach Peter herself and when she's unable to, she leaves him a devastating voicemail, a voicemail he wouldn't hear until thirty minutes later when he was stood in front of ESU’s now dark and empty art center. 

“...She said doesn’t want to hear from you anymore and honestly? I don’t blame her. She watched the door all night for you. All night, Peter, all night! She looked so heartbroken. She was trying her best to hide it but that look on her face, it was soul-crushing. I think this is it for you, ‘there are only so many times you can let a person disappoint you’ those were her exact words. She’s disappointed in you and frankly so am I, I didn’t raise you to act like this. You fucked up big time, there’s no point in sugarcoating it. I adore that girl and I know you do too but you’re losing her…”

Peter could feel the panic rising in his chest as he listened, the thought of losing you made his stomach churn. There's a slight shake in his hand as he presses his phone to his ear, his breath is caught in his throat as he waits for the calls to start ringing, praying you hadn’t blocked him. A sigh of relief escapes his mouth when it does but when the rings halt and his phone buzzes with a text message from you, he could feel all the air leave his lungs. 

Sorry, I can’t talk right now.

Peter rushes to text you back; I’m so sorry honey. 

He can see that you read his message but when you don't respond, he sends you another, and another, and another.  

May left me a voicemail 

I know I fucked up 

And that I keep fucking up

But I can fix it 

Can we please talk? 

A spark of hope ignites within him as he watches the three dots appear on the screen but the feeling dwindles once he reads your message; It’s late, I’m tired and I don't want to hear or see you, please just leave me alone.  

Peter goes to respond but another message appears in the chat informing him that you had silenced your notifications. His eyes never leave the screen, reading and rereading all the texts you’d sent him throughout the night, heart getting heavier and heavier with every message. He knows he should just listen and let you be but he goes against your wishes and sends one last message, I love you, I’m sorry.

—————————————

The sound of your phone ringing slices through the noise of the hand mixer you were using and the crinkles of the paper bag your cat was playing with. You glance at the screen, eyes scanning the contact name before turning off the mixer, answering the call, and bringing it up to your ear, “Hello?” 

“Hello sweetheart, how are you feeling today?” Your elderly neighbor’s voice comes through clearly on the other end. A sigh leaves your lips, “Better, better than yesterday at least, I’m trying to keep myself occupied…giving baking a shot.” She hums in response, “Listen dear…I hate to be the bearer of bad news but he’s here.” 

Your eyebrows knit together, “What do you mean?” 

“That boy of yours. I’ve been watching him, he’s been standing at the door for the past half an hour.” You walk into the living room and over to the window, peeking through the blinds and sure enough there he was standing in front of the door of the duplex with his head hung low. “Do you want me to shoo him away? My grandson left his toy gun here the other day, you know the one with the foam bullets…I’ll take him out for you, sweetheart.” 

Despite being amused by her words, a frown forms on your face, “Stand down, Mrs. Temple. I’ll handle him.” 

“Alright, but if he gives you any trouble just let me know. I’ll give him hell.” Her soft voice now stern, “I know you will, remember how you asked me for his number last night cause you wanted to cuss him out?” You can hear her let out a huff on the other end before exclaiming, “He made you cry! I should go out there and jam my knitting needle through his eye.” 

“That won’t be necessary, I’ll just tell him to leave and everything will be fine. And oh! Before I forget, do you like funfetti cake? I’ll bring it up for you and Mr.Temple a few slices when it's done.” 

“We’d love that!” 

The two of you exchange goodbyes and end the call. You take a second to collect yourself, taking a deep breath before opening the window, “What are you doing here?” 

His head darts up, “Honey,” the sound of his voice catches the attention of your cat, who jumps on the windowsill to see him. He turns his entire body in your direction, digging his hands further into the pockets of his jacket, “Can we talk, please?” 

You shake your head, “I meant what I said, Peter, I don't want to see you. Just go home.” 

He opens his mouth to protest but you’re quick to shut the window and draw the blinds close. You walk back into the kitchen, glancing over your shoulder expecting to see your cat following close behind but much to your surprise, he’s waiting by the door. The sight made your heart hurt, “Snaps… I’m sorry buddy but he’s not coming.” 

—————————————

Disaster. 

That’s exactly how you’d describe the state of your kitchen. Your sink was piled high with mixing bowls and baking pans but it was all worth it once you added the final dusting of rainbow sprinkles to the frosted cake. 

“Okay, Snaps, the cake is done, emergency chocolate chip cookies are in the oven. How do we feel about Coming to America tonight?” You ask aloud as you slice into the cake. 

You look up at him perched on the windowsill, head poking around the blinds to watch the rain pour outside.“I’m going to run upstairs, you stay he–” you’re cut off by your ringtone, “Hey Mrs. Temple, I was just about to bring some cake up for you guys.” 

“He’s still here, dear.” Her words made you feel uneasy, “He came back?” 

“I’m not sure he ever left….he’s just sitting there.” You rush over to the window, pulling the blinds back, squinting your eyes trying to catch a glimpse of him on the stoop. “Oh my god! Can I call you back?” You didn't wait for her reply before ending the call. 

You can feel your chest tighten as you leave your apartment and make the short walk to the building’s entryway. You inhale sharply before opening the door, to reveal Peter scrabbling to his feet. The rain mercilessly beats against his already drenched skin, he looks completely exhausted. “Hi,” his voice comes out as a whisper. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind? Do you have any idea of how sick you'll get?” You scold him, stepping aside and opening the door wider for him to enter. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaks out as he follows closely behind into your apartment, you ignore his words and the way Snaps starts to nuzzle against Peter’s leg only to pull away when he feels the cold and wet fabric of Peter’s jeans, “Go warm up in the shower, I’ll bring you a towel and some clothes,” you say walking into your bedroom. 

You search through your drawer for something warm, eventually settling on a pair of flannel pajamas bottoms he’d left at your place for the nights he slept over, the sweatshirt you’d slept in the night before, and a pair of your fuzzy socks he stole from you. 

You use your knuckle to knock on the bathroom door, “Peter? I’m coming in,” you said, turning the handle. “No, wait!” Peter calls out but he’s too late, you’ve already seen it. His suit. 

“What the fuck!” Your eyes go wide as you scan the spider symbol on his chest. 

Peter freezes, paralyzed by fear, this was not how you were supposed to find out. “It’s not what it looks like!” he blurts out, voice laced with panic. He watches your shoulder slump back and your eyes well with tears, you’ve never felt worse. 

“Please, don’t cry. I can explain–” the sound of the oven’s timer going off causes you to shift your focus, shoving the towel in his hands. “I laid some clothes out for you,” was all you said before hurrying towards the kitchen. 

—————————————

You were sprawled out on the couch, staring at the ceiling trying to make sense of it all. Every moment you spent with Peter replaying over and over again in your head, mentally berating yourself for not piecing everything together sooner. All the cuts and bruises you’ve cleaned and iced, the dates he missed ‘cause he ‘lost track of time’, every question he’d answer vaguely or just flat out avoid, every question you wanted to ask but held your tongue afraid you would come off as pushing or invasive and he’d leave. 

The sound of the bathroom door opening and closing followed by Peter’s faint footsteps and a soft meow causes you to shut your eyes, bracing yourself for the impending conversation to be had. You listened intently as his steps got closer and closer until they stopped right in front of the couch, you had a feeling he was standing over you and your suspicions were confirmed when a droplet of water falling onto your forehead caused you to open your eyes. 

The sight of Peter cradling Snaps like a baby immediately comes into view, “Sorry about that,” he says, shifting your cat to support him with just one arm, and using his now free hand to wipe your forehead. 

“It’s fine,” you mumble, sitting up and scooting over, patting the spot next to you. 

An awkward silence falls over the room, neither of you not knowing where to begin, “Thank you for doing this– for letting me in.” Your leg bounces as you try to work up the nerve to finally address the elephant in the room, opening your mouth to speak but shutting it when no words seem to come out until, “So…you’re Spider-Man?”

Peter swallows thickly, “I am.” 

“Oh,” you say nervously fiddling with your fingers, “I guess it makes sense.” 

“It does?”

You shrug your shoulders, “The longer I think about it…yeah. I’ve always assumed that whoever was under the mask was too smart and too courageous for their own good, no one fits that description better than you. And then there's every single injury you’ve ever had ever, no one trips and falls that many times, Pete.” 

He was just about to say something until he hears you, whispering to yourself under your breath, “I can’t believe I dated a superhero.” 

“Dated?” He repeats back your use of past tense only adds to the unsettling feeling in his chest, you were giving up on him and he deserves it. 

You hum in response, “I know May told you what I said– about there only being a certain amount of times you can let someone disappoint you, and you are way past your limit. I think it’s better if we both just accept this is how things were meant to be. Look you can stay tonight but I think it’s best that in the morning all we are is strangers.” Your voice wavers at the end and it makes his heart plummet. 

Tears pool in his eyes, “S-strangers?” 

He shakes his head repeatedly, “No, no, no. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go–”

You furrow your brows at him, “And how exactly was this supposed to go?”

He hangs his head, glancing down at the cat looking back at him, Snaps stretches his paw out to touch his face, “We were supposed to talk it through, I went to the show- I bought flowers, they’re in my bag they're probably ruined now but I have them! I was going to tell you about being Spider-Man but then you weren’t there so I came here.”

“Me knowing about Spider-Man doesn’t really change anything.” 

“It doesn’t?”

“I guess It does-” he picks his head up as the words leave your mouth but it is quick to drop it again when you finish your speaking, “-just not in the way it counts.” 

“Oh,” he can feel his entire body deflate, “What does that mean?” 

 You let out a defeated sigh, “It means I understand why you were always running late or missing dates completely, and why you’ve shown up here sometimes looking as good as dead.” 

“But…?” 

“But it changes nothing about us, our relationship has never been a priority–”

He’s quick to cut you off, “That’s not true.” 

“But it is, Peter. You’ve had a million chances to prove otherwise and you haven’t. I love you-”

“I love you too.”

“-but I can’t keep doing this, I don’t have it in me anymore,” you wipe away the tears that start to roll down your cheeks. “You just aren’t reliable, Peter.”

“What if I could be reliable? Give you stability?” 

“Peter we’ve already been down this road before–” 

“It’s different this time,” he insists, “I haven’t been able to balance being me and being Spider-Man, I’ve lost so much because being Spider-Man has completely dictated my life and I was fine with it because all heroes have to make sacrifices but none of it is worth it if it means I lose you too.” 

Snaps wiggles out of Peter’s arms and onto the floor, giving Peter the chance to grab ahold of your hands, “I can be both and also give you stability, you deserve better and I’ll do everything I can to be better. I don’t want to lose you, Honey, I don’t. Please, let me show that I can be reliable–that our relationship is a priority.” 

Your silence is deafening, you do your best to avoid Peter’s pleading eyes as you weigh options,

“Parker, I swear to fucking god you better pray your lucky number is a million and one because this is the last time I’m ever doing this with you.”

He perks up immediately, eyes glistening as he processes what you said. His mouth opens but you start to speak before he’s able to get a word out, “If we’re doing this then there's a few rules I’d like to set and they’re all non-negotiable.” 

“Lay it on me.”

“Date night. Twice a month, no expectations. I don’t care if we go out or stay in, I just want a couple of nights off with my boyfriend. You flake, you’re out. Got it? ”

“Got it.”

“Wait, that made me feel like a bitch, to clarify that doesn’t apply to serious situations. I’m not going to stop you from helping or anything like that, I just want two nights out of the month reserved specifically for us.”

“I knew what you meant,” Peter reassures. 

“Could you call or text me when you get home after you’re done with Spider-Man stuff? I’d like to know you’re safe.” 

“Consider it done. Can I add a rule of my own?” 

“Go for it.” 

“Can you leave one of the windows in the bedroom unlocked for me? Since you know now I figured I could come over right after patrol and skip the whole ‘changing in an alley somewhere’ part.” 

“I can do that.” 

You stand up and start walking to the kitchen, “This isn’t a rule, it's a favor but could you run this up to Mrs.Temple? And before you ask, yes you can have some.” 

Peter trails behind you, eyes sparkling when he finally sees the baked goods on your countertop. “God, I love you,” he says, giving you a wet kiss on the cheek.

—————————————

Peter’s knuckles knocked against the door, he could hear shuffling around the room before the door opened revealing Mrs. Temple with a big smile plastered on her face. 

“Oh it’s you,” she says, her smile faltering. 

He holds out the plastic cake dish for her to take, “Uh yeah, Y/n’s asked me to bring some cake up for you guys.” 

“Mmmhm…I heard what happened,” she eyed him up and down, “and by the looks of you being here, I assume my sweet girl forgave your ass?” 

Peter nods, “She did–” 

“We’ll I’m glad things worked out,” she steps closer, poking him in the chest with her finger, “But if you ever make my baby cry again, it will be the last thing you ever do.” She takes the dish from his hand, her next words were lower than a whisper, “I know a guy.” 

“Well, you and Y/n have a goodnight, tell her I’ll give her a call in the morning,” she adds before retreating back into her apartment.

“I don't think I’ve ever been more terrified of an elderly woman than I was just now,” were the first words to leave his mouth the second he returned to your apartment. 

“Oh god, did she threaten to shoot you?” 

His eyes bulged out of his head, “She has a gun?” 

You wave his question off, “No it's just a Nerf gun.”

His mouth forms into an ‘O’, “so the implication that she could put out a hit on me was a bluff?” 

“No, she really does know a guy, he’s nice.” 

—————————————

Extra:

Your head rested against Peter’s chest, the soft thumping of his heart mixed with his hand rubbing your back made your eyelids feel heavier. 

“Pete?” 

He grunted in response. 

“Why didn’t you go home? When I told you earlier?” 

“Home is where the heart is.” 

You pretend to gag at his statement, “That was too cheesy, even for you.” 

“It’s not cheesy, it's the truth and it’s endearing.” 

[mgparker]

all too well

[tasm!peter parker x reader]

| word count: 4.5k

summary: staying away from you was easier for peter when you hated him.

warnings: angst, violence, cursing, weapons, injuries, unrealistic events but it's fanfic so idgaf, peter being a literal stalker, peter being extremely stupid, very sad feels, f!reader, implied that reader has medium-long hair, unedited!

notes: i wrote the first half of this like almost three years ago tbh and decided to finish it all in one go tonight. so it's a little bit of a mess. oh well. this was also supposed to be like 10k+ words, which is why there's more world/storybuilding than usual. oops.

You still remembered the moment Peter broke your heart as if it were yesterday.

It was the only time in your relationship that he’d ever made you feel the way you did that day, worthless and manipulated.

“I don’t love you anymore.” Peter had said. “I don’t think I ever did.”

A straight up fucking lie. At least the part about not loving you at all. You knew that was a lie— it had to be a lie. Otherwise, Peter fucking Parker was an amazing actor.

But that was two months ago, the healing process difficult and still ongoing. It was hard to move on from a relationship that had been built on nearly half a decade of friendship. Peter was one of your closest friends in middle and high school until he decided he suddenly didn’t want to talk to you anymore.

“Have you talked to Peter lately?”

The question immediately threw you off, ripping your attention away from your homework like a bandaid. “What? Why would I do that?”

Your friends Mary Jane Watson and Gwen Stacy sat in front of you, books of their own laid in front of their spots.

“I don’t know,” MJ shrugged, sharing a glance with Gwen. “I heard him talking about you the other day in Bio.”

“Talking about me?” You rose your eyebrows. “I thought he was still pretending I didn’t exist.”

“He is,” Gwen said assertively, giving MJ a side eye.

You nodded as if the news pleased you, and in an odd way, it did. It made it easier for you to just hate him. “Good.”

Gwen gave you a sympathetic look, one you didn’t catch because you’d already ducked your head into your book. Truth is, Gwen Stacy knew you like the back of her hand. Having known you since kindergarten, your friendship was stronger than most. Rivaled only by the friendship that you used to have with Peter. Keywords: used to.

“So you’re still going to the open mic fundraiser tonight, right?” MJ changed the subject. Her tone was enthusiastic, bursting with excitement.

Right. The open mic fundraiser being hosted by the Midtown’s theatre department. It was at a small coffee shop a few blocks from the school, one you’d visited a few times when you desperately needed caffeine to wake you up before a long day of classes.

“Yeah,” you sighed, tapping your pencil against your temple lightly. You kept your gaze on your book, knowing that MJ’s face was likely decorated with a smile. “I’ll go, MJ.”

“Thank you! Thank you!” She squealed, clapping her hands together and looking at Gwen expectantly.

“Oh— I can’t. I have decathlon practice.”

“Boo-hoo,” MJ pouted before gathering her things and skipping away from the table. “I’ll see you tonight!”

You gave her a wave, even as she was halfway across the library at that point. Mary Jane was an impressively speedy person.

You looked back at Gwen. “What’s her deal?”

“It’s hard for her to be in the middle I guess,” Gwen shrugged.

You didn’t mind that MJ was still friends with Peter. In fact, you hoped your messy breakup wouldn’t destroy your friend group but Gwen had adamantly stayed by your side, going as far as to stop talking to Peter.

You didn’t like it, feeling bad that Peter lost one of his best friends because of you but it wasn’t like you broke up with him. It was the other way around and he had made you feel really shitty in the process.

Being the loyal friend she was, Gwen chose you without a second thought.

“I want nothing to do with him,” you sighed. “I just want her to understand that.”

“I’m sure she will… eventually.”

“It’s been two months, Gwen.”

Gwen gave you another sympathetic look. “I know.”

Determined to finish the last of your assignment, you looked back down at your book. Your mind quickly strayed from schoolwork, inevitably thinking about the events of your breakup.

“Peter,” you were pleasantly surprised as you greeted him at your front door. “I didn’t know you were coming over today. I thought you had a—”

“—the photography meeting. Yeah it got cancelled.”

“Oh,” you frowned, his tone throwing you off immediately. The visit was unexpected but being around Peter was like a drug. You couldn’t get enough of him so you welcomed him in without a second thought. Except he stayed planted at your front doorstep, hands shoved in his pockets and a heavy look on his face.

You hated that look— it made your heart sink immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“Can we talk?” He asked, his eyes difficult to read. Something you’d never struggled with before.

“Of course.” You stepped outside, shutting the door behind you softly and following Peter to your outdoor loveseat.

“Uh— I don’t know how to say this,” Peter started, avoiding your gaze completely. His hands were shaking slightly and his posture was tense.

Your anxiety kept you rooted to the spot, concerned over his strange behavior. You were usually so open with each other so this was weird to say the least.

You kept silent, giving him the time he needed to formulate the words. His longer hair fell over his eyes, his head hanging in what looked like shame. “I can’t do this anymore.”

The words were mumbled, but you caught it.

“Um, okay… do what?” You asked hesitantly.

There wasn’t a lot of meanings behind that statement. You knew that well, but the notion seemed impossible. You and Peter worked so well together, heck you wouldn’t be surprised if your hearts danced to the same rhythm. You were so in tune with each other, the possibility that something wasn’t working out just seemed… unthinkable.

“I can’t be with you, Y/N.”

Heartbreak hit you like a fucking train. “What do you mean?” You cleared your throat.

“I’m breaking up with you,” Peter confirmed, refusing to meet your eye. His stony expression was cold, a look he had never directed toward you.

It took a minute but you finally found the words to respond. “I—I thought we were okay?”

Peter’s hard exterior almost broke apart just from seeing your expression. “We aren’t.”

“Why?” You shot back.

Peter shook his head at you incredulously. “We haven’t spoken in weeks. I thought that would’ve given you a hint.”

It indeed had been two weeks since you and Peter had had a solid conversation, at least outside of school discussions and occasional texts. You were just in denial about the whole thing, acting like everything was okay in front of your friends when clearly it was not. You thought if you ignored the distance, adamantly lied about its existence, that you would end up believing it.

“I’m just confused,” you put your head in your hands, rubbing your eyes as if the action would give you some clarity. “Did I do something?”

As far as you could remember, you had done absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to piss him off. Nothing to irritate him. What changed?

“We need to stay away from each other,” he ignored your question.

“Peter,” you snapped. “Can you please just tell me what’s going on? Because last time, I checked we were in a communicative, loving relationship—”

“You’re wrong.”

“What?”

Rain had started falling gently, a calm background noise to the chaos that was unfolding.

“I don’t love you anymore,” Peter said emotionlessly. “I don’t think I ever did.”

Shocked, you repeated his words over and over again in your brain so that they could make a sliver of sense. But they didn’t. This was incredibly out of character for your best friend— was he playing a joke on you? A sick, cruel joke but a joke nonetheless?

In the time it took you to process his words, Peter had gotten up, fully intending on leaving you on your own doorstep but you finally jumped into action.

“No,” you fumed. “Peter Parker, you can’t say that and just walk away. What the fuck is your problem?”

“Right now, my problem is you,” Peter spun around, tone equally aggressive. “The fact that you can’t just accept I don’t want you anymore. The fact that you’re making this harder than it has to be and the fact that you won’t just let me leave. It’s ridiculous.”

You hated how pathetic he was making you feel right now. But Peter was, above all else, your closest friend. There wasn’t anyone that completed your soul quite like he did. “So this just comes out of the blue? You realize that you never loved me and you suddenly want to destroy a friendship we’ve had for six years?”

“Sounds right,” Peter agreed.

Enraged, your jaw dropped. “Then I’m—I’m not stopping you.” Your anger blinded you to reason.

Peter stood under the pouring rain, water soaking his clothes as he stared back at you. It was tense, the air reeked of betrayal and fury. Agony was the only word you could find to describe the hole this was ripping in your heart.

It didn’t make any fucking sense. I mean— you’d talked to Aunt May a few days ago, funnily enough considering your own boyfriend was ignoring you and also happened to be conveniently out whenever you passed by the Parker residence. But May seemed fine, giving you her usual bright smile and enthusiastically asking about school and your family. Nothing to alert you that Peter was going through any trouble.

And you’d tried to get a direct answer from him for the past fourteen days, sending him texts whenever you failed at getting anything substantial from your conversations in class. But your calls were sent to voicemail and your texts left delivered.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You could only flare your nostrils in fury, tightening your grip on the doorknob behind you as you stared at Peter’s retreating figure.

A slight movement from Gwen snapped you out of the memory, a distraction you welcomed gladly.

The room was getting a bit too stuffy, despite the vast space between each table. “I’m gonna go,” you swiftly packed up your things, ignoring Gwen’s look of concern. “Your dad is still picking you up right?”

“Yeah…” Gwen said. “Are you okay?"

"Fine," you said stiffly, checking the time on your phone. You had just enough time to catch the train home, get ready, and then get back here in time for the fundraiser. You almost sighed at the thought. You didn't want to go-- not in the slightest.

The streets were as busy as usual, but you made your way to the station on time. You stood with your back pressed against the wall as you always did, your eyes scanning the crowd subtly. The entire time you stood on the train you felt the heavy weight of someone’s gaze, but kept your eyes planted forward. It was the New Yorker in you.

You hastily made your way home and made your way upstairs, ignoring the bitter silence throughout the brownstone. Your father had left a while ago, something about a business trip. It wasn’t unusual for you to be left alone, the last few months had proven to be full of unexpected changes. What had once been a semi-lively home, was now empty save for the occasional visit from someone your father hired to tidy up the house once a week. 

After a long debate in front of the mirror, you opted for a tank top and jeans with a leather jacket thrown on top. You figured you should put your best foot forward for MJ’s event. You couldn’t mope forever. 

The trip back to Midtown was fine, uneventful, and you made it just in time. What you had expected would be an evening full of disassociating ended up leaving you feeling lighter than you had in months. Thankfully, MJ had dropped the Peter subject completely and instead focused on getting everyone to hit the stage. 

Hence your stellar duet rendition of ‘Start of Something New’ which brought the fucking house down in your honest opinion (there was more giggling than singing).

“Thank you, thank you, thank you for coming!” MJ squealed as you finally made your exit, squeezing you in her surprisingly strong grip. You smiled into the hug, glad that you came.

Finally.

Finally, you’d had one night that hadn’t been tainted by the hole your ex-boyfriend had left in your chest.

MJ gave you one more serious look, grasping your arms. “Are you sure you’ll be fine getting back—?”

“Yes,” you repeated with a teasing eye roll. “I’ll be fine. Dad sent a car.”

You’d gotten good at lying over these past few months too.

MJ accepted it with a smile and bounded off toward the stage again where the rest of the attendees were chatting and laughing. You lingered for a moment, eyeing the community between them. 

With a sigh, you spun around and left the coffee shop, the air instantly clouding around your breaths. It was cold and oddly quiet, the streets more empty than usual. 

Especially with the absence of the car you’d claimed would be waiting for you. 

You shook your head as you began your walk back home. The train made it faster to get there, but you weren’t keen on lingering in subway stations alone at night.

Besides, the walk gave you time to silently seethe over the lie you’d just told MJ. Your dad couldn’t give less shits about you. Apparently, his business trips were much more important. 

The topic of irresponsible workaholics made your thoughts stray to your friend Harry Osborn for a moment. You should text him, invite him over to bond over their shitty parents who think throwing money in their children’s faces made up for their poor parenting.

The route home was so familiar that you were walking on auto-pilot, your mind more distracted than usual.

A bright sign caught your eye.

Joe’s Pizza.

You scowled at the reminder of Peter, almost seeing the ghost of him standing just outside his favorite spot all smiles and laughter.

In a foolish effort to keep him as far away from your mind as possible, you pivoted down the nearest road to avoid passing by. He clearly wasn’t there (only a few tourists stood by waiting for their orders), but your annoying heart still clenched at the slightest reminder of him.

The road was darker and seemingly colder, but you hustled on, dragging your jacket closer to your body. Your gaze was sharper now and you scanned every dark corner and shadow. 

Suddenly, a movement made your feet hesitate. Instinctively, you nearly stopped in the middle of the road, but instead you continued at a slower pace, trying to figure out what you’d seen. 

You couldn’t see anyone and whatever shadow you’d seen had disappeared, but your heart still raced slightly. Suddenly, you were regretting this detour.

Your path strayed closer to the middle of the road to avoid feeling cornered and you quickened your pace, seeing the corner you intended to turn, your chest beginning to feel lighter from the familiarity of the intersection—

“Move and I’ll blow your fucking brains out.”

Your heart froze as cold metal pressed against the crown of your head, tangling in your locks. Your feet skidded to a stop.

A million thoughts ran through your brain, but fear paralyzed you, your lungs frozen in mid-inhale. Your gut had been screaming at you, trying to fight its way over the reckless noise in your head—

“Good, that’s good. Now turn around,” the deep voice demanded and your panicked body hesitated to move. The gun dug deeper into your scalp. “Slowly.”

It felt like you were out of your own body, doing as he asked and turning to see a face obscured by a shitty ski mask. Was he planning on robbing you? You catalogued the items on you quickly, trying to remember if you were carrying enough cash to placate the guy.

Before you could make your plea, a calloused hand came up to your chin and grasped it roughly. A shocked gasp escaped your lips and you tried to hide your terror as the man dug his fingers in your skin. He tilted your face back and forth as if inspecting it.

Your mind was spiraling to the worst case scenario and you were trying to figure out whether you should speak— or if you even could. You always froze in a panic.

An amused chuckle slipped through the guy’s nose and he squeezed your chin mercilessly. Tears sprung to your eyes.

“Really easy to catch you, girl. You’d think our little superhero would be watching over his precious plaything better.”

You realized with a sickening lurch that this had nothing to do with a random robbery and all to do with your best friend— well, ex—

“You’re gonna tell me who’s behind the mask,” he traced the gun from the back of your head all the way to your left temple and dug it into the skin enough that you winced. “And then you’re gonna come with me, nice and easy.”

Your resolve suddenly steeled.

Because as much as you thought you now hated Peter Parker, he would always be the love of your life. Your best friend.

You’d rather die than reveal his secret.

“So tell me, who’s behind the mask, girl?” The man snarled. His nails bit into your skin.

Finally, you found enough courage to speak. It felt loud in this deserted alleyway. “You found me yet you don’t know who’s behind the mask—“

Your slightly mocking tone earned you an unforgiving whack across the temple, courtesy of the hard-as-fuck gun in his hand. Your vision blurred for a moment and you would’ve stumbled if his grip hadn’t tightened on your chin.

Despite your stupid bait, you did find yourself pondering your own words carefully. If they found you (whoever they were), they’d have to been tracking you for some time. How had they made the connection between you and Spider-Man without making the connection between you and Peter Parker?

Well, you and Peter hadn’t been spotted together in months so—

“Got a fucking smart mouth, huh?” He snarled. “You’re gonna tell me who Spider-Man is. Either way, you’re coming with me and he’ll reveal himself soon enough. The boss is eager to meet him.”

The boss?

“You’re wasting your time. He’s not gonna come,” you said between gritted teeth, anger and fear mixing in the pit of your stomach as the gravity of the situation gripped you. 

He’s not gonna come. Peter Parker left you behind long ago. You’re going to die.

“Last chance, tell me.” His threat came with a menacing grip around your throat and you almost fought back before remembering the very serious threat of a bullet in your head.

His tactic was obviously meant to scare you into submission and you tried to relax in his hold with this in mind, but his fingers kept tightening and your airways were closing and —

Your hands instinctively came up to claw at his, throat burning and your vision blurring—

A quick movement caught your eye and you barely registered the gun flying away at least 50 feet in the air before the man’s other hand was gripped by a glob of web you barely saw as your eyes rolled back before his grip was ripped away forcefully and his body went flying away from you.

The loss of his grip sent you crashing down, weakened by the lack of oxygen and damn near completely unconscious. Black dots clouded your vision and just before your head could hit the cold cement, gentle but frantic hands enveloped you firmly. 

Your name was uttered frantically, the hands clutching you into a warm solid chest and you slowly tried to blink the dots out of your vision. Disoriented and barely hanging on to consciousness, you tried to resurface.

“—Y/N? Baby, baby, look at me. Let me see those pretty eyes, come on—“

The voice sent a chill down your spine and your vision was clearing up slightly, your mouth moving before your mind could catch up. 

“Peter?” You whispered doubtfully, head throbbing from the ruthless hit that guy had landed on you. 

The vivid red and blue colors of his suit were dancing in your vision and your dazed eyes focused on his face as one of his hands came up to rip the mask off his head.

The sight flooded your chest with relief, heartbreak, and joy all at once. You felt the familiar euphoria you always did whenever you locked eyes with him.

All that love— everything you thought you’d banished away— turns out it was only tucked deep down and it resurfaced in a violent tidal wave of emotion. 

But for now, in your disoriented and likely concussed state, all you could manage was a slight upturn on your lips. 

A shaky chuckle left his lips, cradling you in his arms as his knees dug into the pavement below. “Hey, baby…” one of his hands came up to cradle your face, his watery eyes scanning your body with such desperation that it concerned you.

All at once, the present slammed into you and the confusion hit.

“W-what? How? Where—?” The questions spilled out of you, barely strung together or making sense.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—“ Peter was saying, running his thumbs lightly over your chin where it still stung and up to your throbbing temple that felt strangely wet. His touch was everywhere all at once and not helping with the aching confusion.

“The guy— he was— they’re after you—“ 

You tried to sit up to look for him— suddenly terrified that he would be pointing the gun at Peter or you— despite the lack of strength and Peter’s firm grip keeping you locked in place. 

“Hey, I took care of him. He’s down. He’s down, I promise,” Peter was reassuring quietly as he soothed your hair back, words tumbling from his lips in a nervous ramble. His hands were shaking and his face was wet, hair in complete disarray.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry—“ his hands suddenly gripped you a little tighter when your eyes slipped shut for a moment too long. You felt exhausted, the adrenaline seeping out of you and leaving you in the aftermath of a strangled throat and a painful concussion. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to stay safe. Staying away meant you’d be safe.”

His words were barely audible, a devastating mumble of self-loathing and blame, tumbling out one after the other. 

“What are you talking about?” You forced out, your voice raw and barely above a whisper.

Peter’s eyes suddenly locked with yours, filled with agony as if seeing you in pain caused him pain too. Before you could make sense of it all, Peter sprung to his feet and cradled you in one arm before a rush of air forced your eyes shut. You barely felt the journey home, floating between a state of consciousness and unconsciousness until those arms rested you on the familiar surface of your bed and your eyes slowly opened to find Peter hovering above you.

His hands cradled the back of your neck, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours, breathing in shakily as his eyes slipped shut and a single tear made a path down his cheek.

Despite the amount of shitty you currently felt, the overwhelming need to make sure he was always okay took over. Your hand went up to wipe his tear away, coaxing his eyes open as you traced his jaw softly. 

“Hey, I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re both okay, Peter,” you whispered. 

“I need to take you to a hospital,” he said as his eyes traced the bump on your temple and the traces of blood that remained. It was physically painful for him to gaze upon your bruised throat, littered in hues of purple and pink. 

It was all his fault and the guilt stabbed him in the stomach repeatedly. He should’ve been the one with those bruises. His blood should’ve been spilled, not yours. Never yours.

“I’m okay,” you insisted weakly, tracing your eyes all over his worried face. All that “hatred” you’d felt before you had melted away into nothingness. Because nothing felt as right or complete as it did when you were with him.

“No, I’m taking you to the hospital now,” he said insistently, slipping out of the suit and reaching into your drawer to take his own clothes out and change. If you weren’t so rattled from the night’s events, you would’ve blushed at the fact that he somehow knew his clothes were still untouched from the months you’d spent apart.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to argue against it anymore, and after a brief hospital visit and some scans later, you’d felt lucid enough to have a conversation with your ex. 

And after he’d explained the threats Spider-Man had been receiving months ago, he also explained his desperate attempt to keep you safe by ensuring he no longer had any part in your life.

He’d lied. He’d said horrible things to get you to let go of him. Things that pained him so badly he barely felt like a person in the months after he’d broken up with you.

To know you’d both been in misery… to know that his words, his cruel cruel words, were lies fabricated to keep you safe…

It infuriated you and weakened you all at once. And because you understood his love and deeply loved him just as much, you found it in yourself to forgive him.

Only after some groveling on his part. And heavy scolding on yours.

“If you ever try to gaslight me again, evil villains threatening us or not, I swear I’ll break up with you for real, Parker,” you threatened very seriously one lazy afternoon, your thighs slung on either side of his hips. 

His bright brown eyes stared up at you as if he held his entire world within his arms. “You got it, ma’am,” he breathed, leaning up to capture your lips with his.

Your hands gripped his shoulders and traveled to the back of his neck, tangling with his chestnut curls. He kissed you like you were the air he needed in his lungs, as if you’d disappear from his grasp if he ever let you go.

Your teeth captured his bottom lip lightly as you pulled away, his eyes darker as they slowly opened to look into yours. And he gave you one small moment before flipping you over so that your back hit the couch and he hovered over you suddenly. The movement so quick that you couldn’t stop the giggle from escaping your lips, muffled by his own smiling mouth as he came down to meet you over and over again.

[hearts4court]

A/N: i randomly thought abt this. idk why. also, this is an apology for not writing for awhile, been going through some stuff :p

SORRY IF ITS CORNY > <

Peter Parker X afab!reader.

bf!peter who buys you flowers for events. (grad, birthday, valen. day, easter, anniversaries, etc.)

bf!peter who visits you after his patrols, jumps through your window to bother you. sometimes, if your asleep, he’ll climb into bed ieth you because he missed his princess :(

bf!peter who just loves you so much that during the day, out of school and when he’s on daytime patrol, he’ll just kinda follow you around and watch you. with your friends? he’s watching from a building nearby. By yourself at a coffee spot? he’s still watching you. in your room? still watching.

bf!peter who drops to his knees and begs for forgiveness after missing a date night because of patrolling or stopping a bank robbery. something like that. he’s hugging your legs and begging.

“baby, m’really really sorry. i lost track of time and i just—“Peter tried to say as you huffed and cut him off, very upset because he missed your one month date night,

because of him being spider-man, the two of you have date night at LEAST once a month. To accommodate to both.

but of course, peter forgot. You believed him obviously. The poor boy was all over the place, but you were still upset because he promised not to miss this one, like he did last month.

you huffed,”You always do that. Missing and forgetting our dates like they’re nothing.” you mumble.

“i said i was sorry, i’ll make it up to you. i-i promise.”he said with a pout and puppy dog eyes which ultimately made you kinda feel bad for being mad at him.

“don’t gimme that look.”you whine, crossing your arms as Peter continued to hug your legs on his knees in front of you. He smiled cheekily,”what look?” he asked innocently.

“keep sitting like that and i’m taking a picture to embarrass you to your friends.”you mutter. Peter rolled his eyes playfully, “i have no shame.”he said, still letting his head rest on your knees.

you huff, knowing that. He’s dropped to his knees in front of you at school before. That’s how people discovered that you two were together.

“fine. i forgive you.”you mumble as he smiles brightly. which made your heart melt immediately, but he couldn’t know that,”*don’t get to excited. if you fuck up again, i’m telling your Aunt.”you say making him snicker.

“yes ma’am.”he said, kissing your hands making you smile slightly.

Don’t copy, translate or repost any of my work w/o my permission.

[iridescentparkers]

tease ˚ ༘ ౨ৎ⋆｡˚ a small pre-500 gift. enjoy ;) (18+)

warnings - swearing, smut. a little sub!peter!

HE SLUMPED his long, lanky body against his bedroom floor, pressing his back against his bookshelf. Peter's glasses slid down the bump on his nose, his mouth gaping slightly open as he stared at his textbook. You sat against his headboard, watching the rhythm of his chest move as he studied what was in front of him.

His tongue touched the roof of his mouth as he turned the page, the little movements sending warmth to your body. 

Weren't you supposed to be studying? Fuck. He’s not trying to tease you. That’s what made it so much hotter. Just his steady breaths alone turned you on.

As he adjusted in his seated position, leaving his eyes on the page, you felt sweat drip down your side. 

You huffed, beginning to fan yourself with the book, “It’s really hot in here.” 

Peter looked up to you from his book. 

“Extremely,” he said, looking around, before meeting your eyes. “Once I finish this chapter, I’ll go downstairs and try to fix the A/C.” 

“Thanks,” you smiled. 

“Anything for you,” he cheesed, glancing up at you before moving his eyes back to his book. 

You quickly moved your eyes between him and your material. As some minutes passed, you sat bored, aimlessly moving your fingers around the page as your brain thought about watching him come undone on his bedroom floor. 

“God, it is warm here,” he stated. “Maybe this will make it less stuffy.” 

With the window open, he removed his shirt, putting both his arms on the windowpane. As he looked down at the cars and streets beneath him, he gripped the wood, his veins growing prominent on his skin.

“Wonder if anyone else has a broken A/C too?” He asked. He moved back to his previous position, grabbing the book next to him to continue studying.

Was he doing it on purpose? You watched him take a breath as he continued studying to then looking at the band of his sweatpants hanging low on his hips. They were loose around his body. His hand that was not holding the book sat on the upper part of his thigh. 

Peter put his head back as he huffed, closing his eyes and peering them back open before looking back to you, “Something wrong?”

Your expression is neutral, hiding how gobsmacked you are by him right now. “No.”

“Really? You keep looking at me. You sure?”

You paused right before moving to the floor and sitting against his bed. “It’s just- Peter you look really…good, right now.”

“Now? I’m a sweaty mess.”

“A hot, sweaty mess.”

He smiled, leaning over to place a peck on your lips before going back to his position, “What do you need from me right now?”

“Whatever you want,” you smiled, crawling over between his legs before walking your fingertips to the head of his cock. “Let me make you feel good.”

He nodded, letting you guide his hand to the inside of his pants, you both feeling him inside of his sweatpants. You both glide his hand up and down, feeling his hips twitch beneath him. You both continue the motion, Peter biting down on his lip as he hunches forward, moaning into your ear. 

You felt him get hard beneath you, Peter moaning louder as you ran your thumb briefly along his tip.

"You're so hard already, and just for me baby?" You teased, rubbing a gentle hand along his chest as your foreheads touch, his breathing picking up more speed. "You're doing so good."

You moved his hand away as you slid down his pants from his hips and slowed the gentle strokes on his dick. “Can I tell you something?”

He whimpered his sentence, dropping his jaw as he moved closer to your ear as you nodded, “I saw you watching, and I took off my shirt to make you flustered.”

“Really?" You asked, slowly moving your hands from him. "Since you didn’t want to behave, should I stop?”

“No,” he shuddered. “Please, you’re just so cute when you get like that!"

You cut your lids, placing a hand on his cheek, cupping his chin as you pull his ear closer to your lips.  “Don’t let it happen again.” 

You whisper in his ear, gritting as you look down at him before placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Yes- Yes, ma’am.”

[withahappyrefrain]

oop for the drabble weekend… “When I tell you to sit on my face, I want you to sit, is that clear?” + soft!dom tasm peter if you’re down 🩷 or any of your boys 🥺

Is this how we bring back soft dom mob AU Peter? Maybeeeeeeeeee.....yeah. It is.

"Mister.....Mister Parker-"

A low groan vibrated against your chest, his mouth still attached to your breast, your unbuttoned blouse framing his head.

"What did I say to call me, Shefele?"

Lamb. That's what you were and he was the wolf, ready to devour you whole.

He was also your boss. The ultimate forbidden fruit. He paid your bills and could lead you to financial ruin at the drop of a hat.

You did kiss him first.

"Peter," his beard brushed against your sensitive skin, sending a body shuddering shiver up your spine.

His hand slipped past your skirt's hemline, long fingers finding your clothed core, rubbing against the flimsy fabric of your panties.

"Already so wet for me," his lips trailed up your body, leaving a litter of kisses and love bites across your flesh.

Peter's lips found yours with ease, realization that all those times in meetings he was truly staring at your lips, like a train.

Your hands explored his deceivingly muscular body, able to feel through his cotton button up. Trailing down, down, down to his designer belt.

"N-need you," your confession came in the form of a barely audible whine.

"I know, but," his hands pushed yours away, his body moving down and off the couch, "Let me take care of ya first. Sit on my face."

"What?"

Peter moved his body so that his back was against the plush cushions of the sofa, head tilted back, the mess of curls and waves tickling your knees, "You heard me, Shefele."

"Mist- Peter, if I sit on your I'll cr-"

"Don't finish that sentence," he moved faster than lightning, body draping over yours once more, "Because that won't happen. I'll be fine."

His lips found your jawline, playfully nipping at it, "When I tell you to sit on my face, I want you to sit. Is that clear, Shefele?"

You nodded, panting as if you had just ran a marathon, "Y-yes sir."

The title elicited a low, nearly animalist groan, "Gonna make you feel s'good, Shefele."

[im-sleepdeprived]

Your page says requests are open, so I'm sorry if I missed something 🙏🏻 Could you possibly do Peter Parker (preferably TASM) and friend reader who has a pet jumping spider that she named after him (bc she's crushing bad)? I think it would be funny if she didn't know he was Spider-man. ❤️

this is actually the cutest thing ever i loved writing this😭 hope you enjoy the little blurb !! no warnings just tooth rotting fluff and some deep, deep pining !!

“Look!” You exclaimed, holding up a see-through container filled with dirt, grass, and twigs, housing your newly acquired pet.

Peter leaned down to peer into it. “He’s adorable.”

You beamed. “I know right!” You’d always had a fascination for critters, but especially arachnids. Hence the tiny jumping spider in your hands right now. Peter found it precious when you rambled on about your love for spiders, not knowing that your very best friend (and long time admirer) was, in part, one. He always felt a little special. 

He knew it was stupid, you were never talking about him. Hell, you had no clue he was Spider-Man. But still. Usually everyone was freaked out about spiders, people hated them, even him (before the bite) and yet you managed to see the beauty in them. What other people found gross and freaky you found intriguing. 

You’d been over the moon this past week since you found out there were jumping spiders finally available  (he never would’ve guessed it, but apparently they were popular pets) at your local reptile store, (you were also adamant about not getting one from a big chain store). 

“I named him after you,” you admitted a little bashfully.

“Oh?” Peter could feel his heart speed up. Maybe his secret wasn’t as well protected as he thought it was. 

“His eyes, see?” You moved the container closer to him and placed your index finger on it, tapping gently. “He’s got those two big ones in the front and these ones on the side.” More tapping from your finger. “He reminded me of you when you wear glasses,” you giggled sweetly.

Peter felt his heart soar. “Yeah?” He smiled wide. “Well I’ve gotta say I’m honored, I know how long you’ve wanted one.”

“Yeah,” you beamed. You always appreciated that Peter let you ramble on about your favorite things, no matter how weird they were. You knew it was an unconventional interest, and yet he never made you feel different or odd they were. It only made you fall that much more in love with him. 

“Did you know that the males perform special dances for the females to get them to mate with them?”

You side-eyed Peter, impressed with his knowledge. Usually you were the one hitting him with random facts. “No, actually, I didn’t know that. Could you imagine if humans did that?” You laughed.

“Well isn’t that whats going online these days? With all those dance trends and ‘thirst traps’.” He made quotation marks with his fingers on that last part, making you laugh again.

“I wonder if Spider-Man does that,” you pondered. 

“What do you mean?” Peter’s brows furrowed. 

“I mean, isn’t he part spider or something? That’s how he can climb walls and stuff, right? And isn’t it why his name is literally Spider-Man. I just wonder how many spider traits he actually possesses.”

“Not the webs, the webs are artificial.” He answered you simply, eyes going wide when he noted the curious look you gave him. “Oh! I mean—I think I heard it—READ IT! Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “I read it somewhere.” Everyday it was getting harder and harder to keep this secret from you. 

“Okay weirdo,” you chuckled. “It was between you and him.” You said suddenly.

“Me and who?” Peter asked. 

“You and Spider-Man,” you said as if it made all the sense in the world. You tapped the small box in your hands again. “I almost named little Petey here Spider-Man cause I thought it was cute.”

Peter crossed his arms and smirked at you. “Really?” He thought it was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. If you weren’t careful, he was going to pull out his suit right now and tell you everything. Well, either that or kiss the living daylights out of you. He reallyyy wanted that last one to happen. “And why didn’t you?”

“Well Spider-Man great and all, don’t get me wrong, saving the city and all,” you made a gesture with your hands, “but you’re my best friend Pete. Of course I’d pick you.”

Peter stood shocked. Honestly, he didn’t deserve you and all your kindness. Everyone loved Spider-Man, no one really cared about Peter. No one but you apparently.

“Now,” you grinned wickedly, “wanna take Peter 2.0 out the box and see how far he can jump?”

He scoffed, “Can’t believe you even have to ask sweetheart.”

“Great,” you handed him the container,” you go first. I wanna get a picture of you and your name twin!”

Peter laughed sweetly and looked down at his ‘name twin’ lounging leisurely on his little twig. Slowly, Peter lifted the lid and placed his finger beside Peter 2.0, allowing the spider, about the size of his fingernail, to crawl onto the tip of his finger. 

He slowly lifted his wrist out the box and looked over to where you stood, camera in hand, grinning wide. “I took your camera, hope that’s okay.” You said sweetly. 

“Yeah, it fine.” he wanted to tell you you could anything of his you wanted.

“Cool,” you held the camera up and positioned the viewfinder so it was in front of your eye. “Okay…Smile in 1…2…” you squealed. 

Peter hadn’t noticed, too busy ogling at you and how beautiful you looked using his camera like that, but your jumping spider had, well….jumped. 

“Peter!” You yelled. 

“Me or him?”

You burst into giggles, Peter (human) following suit. 

[tasmpetersgf]

Drunk and in Love

TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

summary: you’re drunk and your boyfriend Peter takes care of you

Word count: 688

“You’re so pretty,” you drunkenly say to your boyfriend Peter. You’re sitting at a bar, your elbow on the table supporting your head. Peter, who is sitting in the chair beside you, turns, a smirk gracing his beautiful face.

“Yeah you think I’m pretty honey?” He asks you, soaking up your drunken state. Normally you never drank this much, so it was rare for Peter to ever see you like this. But he liked it, you were a very affectionate drunk. Constantly trying to touch him and compliment him, he couldn’t get enough.

“Mhm,” you say. “I think you’re gorgeous Petey. Like your hair is so swoopy and cool and your eyes are like super duper pretty,” you say, going on and on about how attractive you think he is.

Wanting your boyfriend to be closer to you, you reach a hand out to grab him, wanting to pull him to you, but you misjudge and end up grabbing his chair. He laughs at your lack of depth perception in your current state.

“It’s not funny Petey, I want you,” you whine. Tears well up in your eyes, frustrated that you're not in your boyfriend's arms right now.

“You’ve got me baby I’m right here aren’t I?” He asks. He gets up from his chair and stands next you, wrapping his arms around you. Your head falls into his chest, and you finally feel content.

“Now why don’t we go home and get you into bed.”

You don’t poke your head up or say anything, you just shake your head no against Peter’s chest, not wanting to get up and leave his warm embrace.

“Come on honey, don’t you wanna climb into a nice warm bed.” He tries to encourage you, but you’re determined to not leave just yet.

“I don’t wanna go to bed cause then I have to leave you,” he can feel tears falling now and he realizes that in your drunken state, you’ve misunderstood him.

“I’ll be right there next to you honey. You don’t have to leave me.”

“I don’t?” he can hear you sniffle, but your tears are starting to dry up.

“No baby you don’t. I’ll be with you all night okay? You ready to go now?”

You nod yes and you try to stand up, but you wobble a little bit. Peter helps you stand up completely and walk out of the bar. His arm is around your waist the whole time, keeping you balanced and tucked into his side.

Peter’s apartment is right across the street from the bar, so the two of you are in his apartment before you know it. He helps you out of your shoes and then carries you to the bathroom. He gently sets you down on the counter as he rifles through the drawer to your left.

“Come here baby,” he says once he finds the things he needs. He wraps your legs around his waist and pulls you closer. His hand comes up to your face and he gently wipes a makeup wipe across your skin, removing all of your makeup. Then he helps you wash your face, brush your teeth, and put on your nighttime skin care routine. He lifts you up, carrying you over to the bed where he helps you put one of his old, oversized shirts on. He tucks you into bed and crawls in beside you.

“You ok baby?” He asks.

“No I want you closer,” you whine. You smooch closer towards him, wanting to be as close as possible but it’s still not good enough. You go to whine to your boyfriend again, but before you can he is wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulls you close to him, or at least as close as you can possibly be without burrowing into his skin.

“You good now baby?”

“Yeah,” you say, your face smushed against his chest, muffling your words.

“I love you Petey.”

“I love you too sweetheart,” he says back. The two of you lay together until eventually you both drift off to sleep, a happy smile on both of your faces.