#andrew!spiderman

[literaila]

i’ll tell you in the morning

tasm!peter x reader

summary:

“you’re going to fall through the couch.”

“the couch would never betray me.”

warnings: overly considerate peter, scheming reader, fluff and stuff

*

“you’re supposed to be in bed.”

his voice rolls, like a click on a cassette, and you know that peter is not really there.

because it’s all a little blurry. his voice, the door opening, the feeling when he kneels down next to you, his breath hot in your ear.

it’s all some remanent of a dream. a brief moment where you might wake up, but decide not to.

“i’m serious,” his voice ebbs and flows, waving in and out, like your consciousness. “you know i don’t like it when you wait up for me.”

you groan and roll even further into the couch. your face is smushed, and your hair is a mess, sweaty because you’re drowning under every blanket in the house. it smells like cotton, and peter’s deodorant, and potato chips that you probably dropped through the cushions.

you dig your nose in deeper, trying to get back to that dream.

peters probably not actually there, you think, because if he was he would’ve kissed you awake. his hand would be lazily running through your hair, and his body would be pressed against yours. you would be cuddling by now.

real peter is much nicer than dream peter, who shakes your shoulder, albeit massaging you right afterward. “c’mon, bug, we’re going to bed.”

“sleeping,” you mumble, pulling away from him.

dream peter continues to try and wake you up, while you wonder—amidst the dream, no doubt—when real peter will be home. you want to be drowning in his collarbone instead of your own sweat.

there’s a kiss next to your ear. “you’re going to fall through the couch.”

“the couch would never betray me.”

“we’ll see if you’re saying that in the morning, when your neck is bent the wrong way,” he whispers, and rests his head against yours. you feel it as he breathes out, relaxes. almost like he’s purring into your ear.

so you keen into him, a bit awkwardly, considering that it’s his forehead. “why’d you wake me up?”

“you can’t sleep here.”

“c’mere,” you murmur to him, your hand wrapping around the back of his neck, fingertips just brushing his hair. “cuddle with me.”

“being cute isn’t going to stop me from moving you.”

“peter,” you try and push him away, “go to bed.”

“why are you out here?” his nose trails down your hair, to your neck. “it’s almost four in the morning.”

you ponder this, and decide that you don’t really remember what you were doing before you fell asleep here, with your hand shoved in the crook of your neck. “the beds cold,” you slur, head falling back into the cushions as you doze.

“that’s because all of the blankets are out here. why didn’t you turn the heat up?”

he’s playing with some baby hair by your ear now, trying to lull you to sleep, probably, because he loves you.

“i was waiting for you,” you whisper this like a prayer, “and now you’re here.”

“you waited in the wrong spot. i would’ve come to bed with you. there’s no room for me here,” he smiles when you finally turn your head towards him. he’s got a smudge on his nose, and his eyes are sunken in—aged from exhaustion.

“i know.”

you’re both whispering. trying not to wake that drowsy, lovesick part of yourself right now.

“hmm?” he leans into you, nose brushing your cheek. almost like he’s breathing you in. “what, bug?”

“i wanted to fall asleep with you.”

then his eyes are wide open, and he leans back, brows furrowed in a tight line. “i told you i was going out.”

you muse at his confused face, and lean back towards him. “i know. i didn’t know when you’d be home.”

“you could’ve called.”

“i’m not going to interrupt your repertoire with a burglar at midnight. it’s rude.”

“not to me.”

you tsk, and lean away, back into the pillow comforting you while simultaneously scheming to ruin your morning.

“you need more sleep than i do,” peter adds, trying to keep you awake with his sheer willpower, his hands squirm under your shoulders. “we’ve talked about this.”

“no, you threatened to tell my mom—“

“that’s not what i said,” peter interrupts, groaning into the sofa.

“that i wasn’t getting enough sleep. and i said that you could make your own decisions, but that i wasn’t going to stop waiting up for you.”

“it makes me feel bad,” he ignores your gentle protesting. “i don’t want to keep you up.”

“peter, it’s not like you’re out dancing with strippers.”

he laughs, unexpectedly. and you grin back at him, with a sheer conviction undiluted by any hints of remaining sleep.

“you’re up helping people. i don’t mind waiting for you,” you emphasize this by leaning in to kiss his forehead, tasting sweat and not minding at all.

“you’re going to be tired tomorrow. when did you fall asleep?”

you acknowledge your win for what it is, and sit up on the couch, looking around your apartment like you can’t remember where you are. “probably an hour ago. i didn’t know when you’d be home, and i waited a while, but then i moved to the couch so you’d have to wake me up if i fell asleep.”

“so this was an elaborate scheme, huh?” peter laughs at you as his teeth graze your cheek. his chaste kiss makes you warm.

“i learned from the best.”

peter chuckles against you, and the two of you sit like that for a moment. calculating each others breathing like there’s something you might miss, however brief.

and then you smile at him, and he smiles back. “bed?” he asks you, softly, fingertip running against the skin of your jaw. you nod.

his arms wrap around you as he picks you up, your head rested comfortably on his shoulder, legs wrapped around his waist.

“i’m leaving you on the couch next time,” he threatens as he walks, “just so you know.”

“then we’ll both wake up with sore backs. not just you.”

peter snorts. “i didn’t say i would be there.”

“like you can sleep without me.”

he doesn’t say anything to that, but you feel him murmur in your hair suspiciously.

peter sets you down on the bed softly, pushing your legs so you’ll lay down, then covering you with the comforter. he tucks you in like any average middle aged dad.

when you grin he nods, very satisfied with himself.

“i’m just gonna change,” he says, taking a step back.

“hurry. i’m tired.”

“now, look who’s talking,” he shakes his head, but moves swiftly to the bathroom. you hear it as he runs the sink, as he bangs his foot on something and curses, and when he pads back into the bedroom, looking like a young child sneaking out of bed in his pajamas.

you laugh. “where did you get those?”

peter looks down to himself. to the many cartoon styled spider-man’s dancing across his cotton pajama set. “what? this old thing.”

“i don’t think i can be seen in public with you if you’re wearing that.”

“we are in the privacy of our bedroom,” he points out.

“i don’t think i can be in the same room with you if you’re wearing that.”

peter shakes his head, pouting like he’s disappointed, but he slips the shirt off, a concession he’s apparently willing to make.

though you don’t doubt that there are ulterior motives to this move.

“c’mon,” you whine to him, “i’m cold.”

“you’re so needy.”

you roll your eyes, but sink into him as he shuffles from beside you, laying his head near yours. “you’re not coddling me.”

“i’m so very sorry, my dear,” he whispers, and wraps his arms around you.

“shh,” you nuzzle your nose into his neck, and murmur against his hot skin. “i want to go back to the dream i was having.”

peter must be laughing at you, you can tell, even slightly asleep, because something jostles you.

“what was it about?”

you smile against him, listening to his heart like a hymn you’re devoted to. “i’ll tell you in the morning.”

he whispers something, brief, a whisper in the quiet of the room. but you feel the words as he settles into the bed, his calloused hands running over your skin.

and you fall asleep; hands clutching the others heart.

*

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

boyfriend! peter thoughts bc i need to talk about it like now

-always sitting on his lap. always. whenever you’re in his room and he’s at his desk doing work he pats his knee and you trot over and sit on his knee and he bounces it slightly while he explains his work while you just listen and nod

- takes photos of you 24/7 and sticks them up all over his room. he also has a polaroid camera where he takes dirty photos of you and looks at them while he jerks off

-builds lego sets with you and keeps the extra pieces at the end of the build to make something else for you out of the spares

-whenever you get anxious or overwhelmed he shields you from the world, answering questions for you, calming you down, ordering for you etc

- he is always playing with your hair or jewelry or some part of you he can reach and admire. also a reason to smell your perfume 

-im getting a weird feeling about gummy worms. like he always has some? just on him to randomly pull out and munch on? his fav are the yellow and red

-you often stand on his toes to kiss him bc hes reallyyy tall

-he always guides you through sex. always. coaxing you through things, checking in on you. i have a feeling he cooes at you a lot, that faux pity voice that drives me wild. 

-when he drives you places he has a hand on your thigh, on your headrest when hes backing up and he always has an old radio station that no one cares about but he does for some reason

-really into bondage. or that whole helplessness thing. knowing youre so fragile and vulnerable with him drives him wild bc he feels like he can corrupt you

-so supportive. even if its kinda from a distance, like maybe hes not the loudest one clapping bc he is kinda introverted, he always shows up to your events and supports you/ gives you so many pep talks about how awesome you are

- likes head scratches and when you nibble on his fingers

- teaches you video games without mansplaining things and then lets you teach him your interests 

[citrusy-lemons]

meet-cute

tasm!peter x reader (university au)

summary: you're late to your class and someone's left a skateboard on your path. the owner of the skateboard has very brown eyes.

w/c: 0.8k

author's note: um, hi. this is the first thing i've written for peter parker (i know, shocking, i mostly read about him) so i'm not sure whether i've captured his essence, but i tried. also i know it's a bit cringey but i started writing it in the reader's pov and i couldn't change it to peter's in the middle like i wanted to so, i guess, next time. i hope you like this! constructive criticism is encouraged, please be nice :)

you had not imagined your first day of university to go this way. it was a cloudy day, pleasant and not too windy. you were hoping to make it to class a few minutes early and have everything set up before the professor arrived. 

but instead, you were late, you were not organized at all, and you were panicking. all because your stupid alarm hadn’t gone off. why? because you’d forgotten to change the timezone in your phone. moving to the new city had not been easy and now you were super late for your class.

cursing yourself for your stupidity, you were hurrying across the campus, you weren’t sure where your class was, but you were hoping that you’re walking in the right direction. 

checking your bag, hoping to god that you’d grabbed the right books on your way out, with a cup of coffee in your other hand, you awkwardly jogged across the campus to the building where you hoped would be philosophy by mr. jackson. 

you were in the midst of congratulating yourself on successfully having the correct textbooks in your bag when the earth shifted. 

okay maybe that was a bit dramatic but that was what had happened to you. the earth hadn’t shifted, but you’d fallen on your butt because someone had left a skateboard lying in the middle of the walking path. 

thankfully, your coffee hadn’t spilled but your books sure had. looking up you found a brown-haired boy bashfully kneeling down and start collecting the books, profusely apologizing.

"-really sorry, are you okay? did you break anything? i broke my ankle a couple of years ago but i was just being stupid, oh god did you break your ankle? i hope you didn't, that hurts a lot. i'm so so sorry, are you okay?" he finished, turning his brown eyes on you in concern.

he looked very... soft. he was wearing a brown jacket and a navy blue zip up over a light blue tshirt. his headphones were hanging out of the neck of his tshirt. he looked like he smiled a lot. his brown hair was ruffled, his brows furrowed and you realized he was still waiting for your answer.

"i dont think i've broken my ankle if that's what you're worried about," you sat up. your butt was sore, but other than that you were okay.

"okay, that's good, that's a start, anything else broken?" he bit his lip, and you tried not to stare at it.

"no, doesn't feel like it," you took a breath, and looked away from him, towards the guilty board, "why don't you explain why your skateboard was just lying there?"

he helped you up, your coffee was still intact, you dusted yourself off.

"oh, uh yeah, again, i'm really sorry, i was checking my schedule on whether philosophy was right now or in an hour and i didn't realise it had rolled away from me," he did look very guilty, his frown saying as much.

he returned your books and you stuffed them in your bag which was lying on the ground. he was still looking at you.

"be careful then," say something clever, why wasn't your brain working?

"i'm really sorry," he offered, why was he still looking at you?

he picked his own bag up from the ground and looked away, grabbing his skateboard too.

you blinked.

"i think philosophy is right now,"

he looked at you again.

"which reminds me," you walked past him, fast. almost running, looking straight ahead.

philosophy is right now and you are very late.

"um, hey!" you heard him call out and turned around, still walking. he was facing your direction, looking at you again.

"philosophy by mr. jackson?" he asked, his skateboard in one hand and his brown bag slung across his back. did he really like the color brown?

"yeah," you called back, hoping he didn't have the same class as you.

"his classroom's that way," he pointed his thumb behind him.

goddamnit.

you stopped and started walking in his direction and he joined with you as you went past him. he took the hint that you were late and didn't really feel like making conversation. you tried not to visually show your panic but he seemed like a good observer.

you both reached the classroom (it was the first room in the building how could you have missed it?), and saw that yeah, you guys were very late.

the classroom was full, and a middle aged man was already talking to the students. professor jackson noticed you both before you had a chance to say anything.

"ah late on the first day, not making a good impression mr. and miss...?"

"peter- uh parker, peter parker," the boy next to you said.

you introduced yourself and mr. jackson let you both get to your seats without further embarrassment.

you sat down, pulled your textbook out and tried listening to what the professor was saying.

you looked for him and found peter parker's brown eyes already on you.

[ghostlyfleur]

♡ dating tasm!peter parker

[withahappyrefrain]

Peter & Sunshine ...goodbye (3)

Crying because I missed my babies! Peter with a Sunshine!reader/OC (appearance is not described too much); language and third person POV. You can read more about their adventure here. Kiss prompts here

She liked to think of herself as grounded. Calm. Assured.

She knew the routine was coming, that it was a part of his daily life. But hearing about it and witnessing it were two different things, much to her dismay.

Hearing about it made her bite her bottom lip, a distant yet manageable anxiousness building up in her brain. But Peter always came back, that's how he was able to tell her about it in that moment.

Seeing Peter get ready in person made her heart ache. Her throat tightened, leaving her unable to take a full breath as he looked over maps of the city, planning where he would patrol for the night.

He saw them as areas he could get work done, where he could make a difference.

She saw them as a bright flashing signs of danger.

"Sunshine?"

He was the only person who called her that, only person who could.

If anything happened, the nickname that made her feel warm and loved would die with him.

Peter's large hands placed on her shoulders forced her to look up.

"You okay?" His whiskey colored eyes were full of concern. Her face had hardened, lips pulled into a tight line instead of her usual radiant smile. Her brows knitted together in a tense knot.

She looked more like him in that moment. Peter didn't like it.

"Are you...." her voice cracked, "Come back to me. In one piece?"

His arms wrapped around her body, pulling her into a tight hug, her face against his chest. The sweet smell of cinnamon flooded her nostrils, bringing some relief to her aching heart.

"I'll come home to you. Always. Whatever it takes, Sunshine."

She knew he couldn't promise her that. Too many uncontrollable variables. Too many what if's.

But in his arms, in this moment, it was more than enough.

When she looked up, a small, but bright smile was on her face. Light flooding back into her eyes. The bridge of her nose slightly scrunched.

His sunshine.

With a hand now in his chestnut hair, she was able to guide his lips to hers. Peter's lips were soft, well worth having to stand on the tips of her toes so they could stay pressed against her lips. A warmth bloomed in her chest, spreading to the rest of her body.

The ache in her chest subsided, though it still lurked due to knowing that after this kiss he would leave to patrol the streets of New York.

But for now, they both felt at ease. It would be different when he left her apartment, but she had prepared for that, a list of comfort movies and her cat, Yuzu, ready at her couch.

When they broke away for air, Peter now had a faint smile on his face, though his eyes still flickered with uneasiness.

Her fingers trace the side of his face, committed to remembering every scar and freckle.

"Go get 'em Tiger."

[lexxierave]

When Fate Intervenes- tasm!Peter Parker x Reader Part 1

It was a wonder you and Peter Parker never met each other until you were both forced to attend a mandatory pre-midterm conference with Mr.Hertz, your physics professor for the fall semester, of which you were currently running late for. Then again maybe it was all part of fate's funny game it wanted to play on the two of you. 

You had completely forgotten what day it was earlier this evening and went straight home from work instead of heading in the opposite direction to your college.

You were recently new to New York, settling into a small and cheap apartment on the outskirts of Queens. It was all you could afford after you packed up and moved across states to attend college, preferring to be as far away from your family as you could get. 

You used what was left over from your college tuition to make the down payment for rent. After that you found a job at a small corner store. Just around the corner actually and you happened to find out they needed help by chance when you went there for basic food supplies. It wasn't much but they were willing to work around your college schedule and let you do your homework whenever it got slow.

You had just finished your shift at work and were completely wiped from working all day and thinking about the mountain of assignments and reading you still had to do.

You envied the rich college kids if only for the facts that they didn't have to worry about that. Didn't have to worry about failing or surviving in the real world. While you never had a moment's rest. Never stopping and allowing yourself just to breathe and live.

You didn't come from a happy home. No, you came from a broken home. One that taught you terrible habits, like avoiding your problems. Or people in general so that you don't get attached, get let down and have more problems.

Anxiety was a constant in your life so much that you always wore out. Which was why you decided a nice nap after work sounded better than starting your schoolwork.

You woke up to your phone going off about an hour later.

You looked blinked that sleep away and picked up your phone to see your college's name rolling across the screen.

Puzzled and tired you answered it. The sleep is evident in your voice.

"So it's not just my class lectures you tend to be late for." The voice on the other end spoke after you said your typical greeting. The exasperation evident in their voice.

It was clearly your physics teacher, you'd remember that voice from everywhere. Having been scolded by him multiple times this semester for arriving late for his early morning class but it was challenging when you usually had to work the evening shift at work then stay up late to finish up your course work before the next day.

It was not an ideal balance but it was one you had to manage for the time being. Your job wouldn't give you the morning shift and the college only offers this class during one time this semester and you would rather get it out of the way fast then wait to do it plus it was a prerequisite for a handful of your other classes.

"I am so sorry I thought it was Tuesday for some reason. I'll be there in about 30 minutes." You apologized for the tenth time for letting the meeting slip your mind and lied through your teeth about when you'd be there.

Which is why you were running across campus to one of the buildings in the back to meet your fate.

Meanwhile in another part of campus Peter hand touched down from swing to one of his emergency backpacks that he left for when he was running late for something on school grounds, like right now. 

He knew what time he had to be at the meeting for Me. Hertz but you try to tell that to highspeed bank robbers going in the opposite direction. They'd laugh at him and then blow smoke from their getaway car in his face.

Peter shook his head at the mere thought of it before jumping on his skateboard and jetting over to the backside of campus. 

He needed to get this over with face and get back to patrolling. He knew it was not about his grades, he's one of the smartest students in class. Probably is the smartest but he'd never give himself that much credit with his classroom attendance. 

That's probably what this is all about. He's attendance or lack thereof, especially of late. Peter really only took some easy college courses to get Aunt May to stop worrying about him following Spider-Man around all day long.

His heart and head weren't in any of it. He'd rather be stopping bad guys so no one got hurt like Gwen did or Harry.

If only Peter could save the people he cared about most. It was a guilt he'd carry like a scarlet letter forever.

With all of Peter's thoughts consuming him it didn't take him long to reach Mr. Hertz's office. 

He kicked up his board and reached for the door handle, mentally preparing himself for the lecture he was about to receive. But who can prepare for what fate has in store for them?

Part 2

[steggymus]

web head

[reidslovely]

Locked by Fate. (Upcoming)

Locked by fate lovers met over three time periods.

A 1500′s guard falls in love with the fiancé of a wealthy duke who longs for more. Torn between his promise of loyalty and his love of the woman he goes to the ends of the world to do what he can to to assure they’ll be together in the end.

A 1940′s American solider falls in love with an actress during his time in New York. The lovers spend weeks together, love letters every week when he’s gone. 

A 2010′s engineering major meets the girl from the front row in his photography class at a frat party one night. Quickly falling head over heels for her, likes he’s known her in so many of his lives. 

Links 

Pinterest Board

Playlist (coming soon music from 1940′s-2020′s that match the vibe)

[so-ithinkicandance]

Andrew!Peter Parker x GN Reader General Dating Headcanons

Andrew!Spidey is quite possibly the kindest, goofiest, and most in love man there is, and he isn't afraid to show it. He actually gives you all of his heart and soul till he understands why he loves you so much more than anything this pitiful world could ever attempt to convince him.

He hasn't always had a very positive view of himself or of who he is, but there you are. And you simply make him want to cry because you are basically the embodiment of everything the goodness, kindness, and hope he has ever attempted to discover in himself.

It comes as a shock when he reveals that he is Spider-Man, but you didn’t run or hide. He's glad he told you since he always disliked lying to you and keeping it a secret. He made a commitment to never withhold anything else from you after telling and telling you everything.

Sure, he's guarding you, but he's also afraid you might suffer harm as a result of him. In fact, it almost caused the two of you to split up earlier in the relationship since he took the blame for jeopardising your safety. You never once placed the blame on him and you were quick to forgive him, but you had to help him learn how to forgive himself. You have to tell him that you're a team and that it's alright to move on and forgive himself because he carries the weight of the world on his wide shoulders.

You are frightened the first time he carries you across New York because, in addition to thinking you will be too heavy for him to carry, you are also terrified of the idea. He reassures you, reminding you of his strength, that he can carry you and that he won't let go. You hardly open your eyes to look the entire time, clinging to him, but you make it! The entire time, he gives you comfort by assuring you that he has you and will keep you safe—and he does.

Aunt May adores you very much. She notices your kindness and can tell Peter loves you just by looking at him. You are always invited whenever she extends an invitation to Peter to visit. Peter makes fun of the fact that Aunt May prefers you to him.

Aunt May likes to share all the embarrassing tales with you and gossip with you about how Peter was as a young lad.

He is impulsive and will take you on a picnic on top of a building in the centre of the city while taking you on a swing through New York. He will visit you at work during your lunch break and drive you to a location with a nicer view than the staff area where you can eat your meal.

The two of you have so much fun together. He’s your best friend and that means that you can authentically be your silliest selves around the other without a care or without judgement. You dance around the kitchen singing your Elvis impressions full pelt, you play hide and seek in pretty much every large department store you visit because why not? There’s just so much laughter in your relationship with Peter and you adore it.

Peter isn't embarrassed to display his sensitive or helpless side to you. He's had nightmares about his parents, Uncle Ben, or the horrors of villains he's battled many times, and you're the one who comforts him by enveloping him in blankets, bringing him tea, and giving him temple kisses. You assist him in processing all of the trauma that he puts himself through.

Sometimes, particularly when he’s having those nightmares or going through a rough patch, you need to remind him to take care of himself. You’re the one who makes the meals and almost forces the plate into his hand to eat it instead of eating processed junk. You’re the one who gets in the shower with him, scrubbing the grime, dirt and blood of him, washing his hair and leaving little kisses on his collarbone. You’re the one who always packs a water bottle and snacks in his backpack for when he’s going out on patrol just so you know that he’s got something to eat and drink.

His computer background and phone background are photos of you. The one on his phone is a candid photo of you laughing that you hate but he loves because he loves that smile of yours. His computer background is a photo of the two of you at one of your family members weddings.

Peter always kind of knew that he wanted to marry you. After one and a half years of dating, Aunt May gives Peter his mother’s old engagement ring. It’s simple but beautiful and it holds a lot of meaning. Peter carries it with him, he’s not sure when he’ll ask you but he carries it with him every single day just waiting for the right moment.

Peter always know what to say to make you weak at the knees. It’s like he has a bank of the most beautiful things to say to make you giggle and blush like a teenager.

He enjoys kissing you. He kisses you on your lips, tummy, shoulder, neck, wrists, and knuckles in addition to your forehead, temple, and nose. If he had the slightest chance, he would kiss you nonstop. He simply enjoys kissing you.

He has a cocoa, coffee, and earthy scent. The chocolate is normally a snack from his backpack that you've packed, and the woodsy aroma comes from how much he enjoys being outside and learning about nature. He typically consumes coffee continuously to stay awake throughout the long evenings.

He is not reluctant to publicly declare his love for you. He never fails to hold your hand, give you a hug, or declare his love for you in the middle of the street. He would practically serenade you until you asked him to stop if it bothered you.

He’s very chill, he’s very low pressure so if you’re not feeling up to doing something, he doesn’t mind. He wants you to be comfortable so however he can help and whatever he can do to make you comfortable, he’ll do it. He doesn’t make you feel bad for it either.

Peter celebrates every single win with you no matter how big or small. He’s so proud of you and just wants you to know that so even if it’s something simple like you managed to figure out something in work or you managed to nail the recipe for those cookies that you’d been trying to perfect all week, he’ll celebrate and be so proud of you.

You are the one who gives him a massage and helps him shower after a difficult argument. You'll take care of him, tend to his injuries, and make sure he's both psychologically and physically healthy.

He makes you feel like the sexiest and most beautiful person alive. He could compliment you for hours as he looks into your eyes. He kisses you with so much passion that it makes you forget about everything. He worships you and your body, kissing you everywhere. He would spend hours making you feel good, making you orgasm over and over before he even thought about pleasuring himself. Sometimes, maybe after a hard fight, he’s rougher and more desperate, skipping the foreplay and just desperate to feel you. Most often though, he takes his time, teasing you and praising you. He makes you feel so unbelievably good, better than you ever thought you could feel.

He’s taller than you so the height difference when hugging him standing up is just *chefs kiss*. It also means that he can reach for the stuff you can’t get because you’re too short.

He has so many nicknames for you. He makes a new nickname or pet name up every day pretty much. Some are funny, some are cute and some can never hear the light of day again.

You sleep wrapped around each other, cuddled right into each other’s skin. He loves sleeping with your head on his chest, it makes him feel like he’s protecting you and keeping you safe. He also enjoys being the little spoon. He’s versatile.

You want to take his clothes, but since he's a really lean guy, he buys sweatshirts in a larger size and wears them before giving them to you. This way, the sweatshirts are not just the right size for you but also smell exactly like him. He never once criticizes you for your weight, shape, or size; in fact, he gives you compliments.

[welovelouisandbucky]

Peter Parker Headcanon

Summary:This is how I think Peter Parker would be with artist!reader

A/n: heyya guys!!! I just wanna apologize and thank everyone who showed support to few of my series that I started but did not post anything after first chapter, I started those series when I was feeling very motivated and was full of ideas but in excitement I didn't planned them out properly and it backfired. I wasn't feeling like it anymore but I knew I have to post and I did write chapters for all of them but I wasn't happy with my work so I never posted them, and it's my fault because I shouldn't have posted them online before planning them out properly, but I promise I will complete them but not anytime soon because I just don't feel like writing them any more. for now I just want to write small one shots and headcanons so I would really appreciate if you guys show these ideas support too, thank you!!

S/n: you can imagine any Peter Parker but I personally had Andrew!Peter in mind when writing this so yeah, likes and reblogs are appreciated and as well as positive criticism, pls don't hate on me 😭 thank you!

T/w: just fluff!! One swear word? none I guess other than my writing lol

I think he really enjoys drawing because it's one of the things he finds calming. 

He usually prefers to watch you draw/sketch, because he thinks you look super cute while you're concentrating on a certain detail or drawing the outline of the figure.

When you guys are drawing together, he'd try to draw you, so he can show you how beautiful you truly are. He just loves you so much he can't help it. 

Gets distracted easily, and blames it on you, and when you ask what you did he'll say something like "stop being so goddamn cute!" or like "you're looking too cozy and cute, makes me wanna cuddle the life out of you!" 

He absolutely LOVES painting with you because then he gets to start a paint war with you. In two or less minutes you guys would be covered in 50 shades of grey🤭😉

And let me tell you, the way he drew you is *chef's kiss* so good. The boy literally put his heart out on this drawing.

When he finally shows you the drawing he'd say something like "I'm sorry if it's not good. And please be honest if it's shit, okay?" "Peter, what are you talking about?! This is beautiful! I look so pretty!! You made me so beautiful in this!" " Well that's because YOU are BEAUTIFUL!" 

He'll most definitely take you to picnic dates, somewhere far and beautiful. He'd lay there next to you while you draw in silence. Those kinds of dates are his favorite; super relaxing and peaceful.

Would model for you if you ask him to, but the poor boy can't sit still. He needs to move or else he'll go crazy, but will apologize every time he moves, you're quick to tell him it's fine and that you don't expect him to become a statue.

Would buy you art supplies but will be too scared to give you because he knows you don't like it  when he spends his money on you. So he'll sneakingly leave it at your desk thinking you won't notice, but of course you did. Will get scolding from you afterwards. 

Let's be honest, you love it when he buys you art supplies, it makes you happy to know that he actually cares enough to got you those, but the thing is art supplies are expensive as fuck! He works really hard for what he earns, and you don't want him to waste it on you. You get scolded in return when you tell him this.

"Nonsense! I'm not wasting anything, you should know that, Y/n! You know, it actually hurts me to think you'd even think something like that." "I'm sorry, Peter." "You're forgiven, but only because I need my cuddles and kisses," "and because you love me?" "yeah that too, but mostly my cuddles."

Definitely, will take (swing) you to different places he thought was worthy enough to be drawn. Or when you're not feeling motivated, or when the art block is just too strong; because he understands how tough it can get for you.

He's always there for you no matter what. He truly understands you, and helps you out when you have no motivation or ideas to create anything. Calms you down when you're frustrated because the drawing you finished is not looking the way you wanted it to be. Always tells you how talented you are and how much he's proud of you and everything you create

Always reminds you to take care of yourself and asks you if you have eaten anything yet? Because when you're drawing you always lose track of time and forget to eat. 

Definitely finds it funny when you rant about how drawing hands is an absolute nightmare, but agrees with you nonetheless. 

100% had said "draw me like one of your French girls" at some point with a dramatic gesture. 

Shows you off to everyone he meets like, " have you met my girlfriend? She's so talented like ohmygod, here look at this" proceeds to show the person your artwork while you stand there embarrassed but so in love

Definitely has hung up your drawings in his room

He's your number one supporter, but does points out mistakes if he sees one (we love honest feedbacks)

So in conclusion Peter Parker is absolutely whipped for you

Thank you so much for reading this I hope you enjoyed this!!

[undiscovered-horizon]

Direct Message - TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

[2K Followers 'Clue' Special]

SUMMARY: A healthy relationship means you trust each other but the healthiest relationship is poking fun at anyone trying to hook up with either of you... right?

WORDCOUNT: ~0.5k

In a miraculous turn of events, your kitchen did not burn down due to Peter’s actions. No one lost a finger and neither did the recipe turn out to be bogus. The veggie stock with dumplings was simmering on the stove, filling the flat with a mouth-watering aroma. Your stomach grumbled quietly. The fifteen minutes of waiting were going to be torture.

Sitting on the counter, you were silently watching Peter putting away the dirty utensils and ingredients. He still had his sleeves rolled up from cooking. There wasn’t anything, in particular, you were thinking about - school, family, the plot of the book you were reading… Just passing, unimportant thoughts. Judging by his expressionless face, he wasn’t any more troubled than you were.

Your phone vibrated on the counter, eliciting a low thrum. Rather out of habit than genuine interest, you looked at the lit-up screen. A message. Reading the less-than-savoury text, a grimace appeared on your face. “Dear Lord, what on God’s green Earth is this.”

“What’s up?” Peter asked walking to you. He leaned against the counter with one hand. His curious gaze studied your profile.

"Remember that guy that hit me up like last month?” Peter gave you a confused look. Truthfully, neither of you paid much mind to people interested in the other. “The basketball dude?”

His face momentarily lit up. "Yeah, what about him?"

"He hit me up again."

Peter burst into laughter. A lovely sound. "What?!” he asked in disbelief. “Show me."

You opened the phone and Peter leaned his head against yours to get a good look at the screen. An enticing fragrance of spicy cologne mixed with flowery laundry detergent filled your nostrils. Unknowingly, you took in a deep inhale.

"See?“ You vaguely pointed at the newest text. “Your boyfriend doesn't have to know',” you said in a mocking voice. “The Hell do I look like? Secret Service?"

He looked at you with a strange glint in his eyes. "I mean, he's got good taste, gotta give him that."

You entertained him with a giggle. Taking a step forward, Peter found himself standing between your legs, hands lingering around your waist. He gave you a playful grin.

“You too." Enjoying this sudden intimacy, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Peter leaned in explicitly close but before he would indulge in this lack of personal space, he simply had to murmur something cheesy. “Oh, please. He’s a fanboy, I am a connoisseur.”

His warm lips gently moved against yours. One of his hands travelled from your waist to your jaw, firmly cupping it. The surrounding world, like mist on a summer morning, seemed to dissolve.

The repetitive sound of the lid slamming against the pot made you divert your attention. You turned your head slightly to the side to free your mouth but Peter was hardly affected by that. Feverishly, he continued peppering your face with kisses.

“Babe, aren’t the dumplings boiling over?” you whispered to him.

He didn’t even glance in the direction of the pot. Peter’s warm breath brushed against your cheek as he chuckled before kissing you again. “Nah.”

I've got one Bad News and two Good News. The Good News: 1) We're a handful of souls away from hitting 2k. 2) I'm 4k words into a sci-fi novel. The Bad News: I don't know if I have depression or ADHD but one of those for sure

[literaila]

hey v ! what about peter and reader getting ready to go somewhere and after reader puts on some red lipstick peter can't stop kissing her ?

lipstick

warnings: ugh, peter

*

“how many times have you done that?”

peter is standing behind you, leaning against the wall, probably ruining your focus, or your makeup, or your sanity. he’s probably staring just to mess with you.

you refrain from smiling in the mirror. wipe a smudge with your nail. “i don’t know, peter,” you meet his eyes, and his nefarious smirk. “how many times have you watched me do it?”

“i got lost somewhere around the first time.”

you laugh at him, crumbling the napkin you’ve been using, now filled with kiss marks, and turning it around so you can throw it at peter. “are you sick?” you ask him.

instead of answering, he licks his lip and unfolds the napkin, staring at the red marks, creases and tireless efforts arranged in a messy pattern. “this is like art.”

“why are you acting like you’ve never seen anyone wear lipstick before?”

“what?” he asks, hand to his chest. “i cant watch you get ready? i’m banned from being in the bathroom when you are?”

“yes, and yes.”

it does not escape your notice when peter tucks the napkin into his pocket for safekeeping.

he shrugs. “i don’t mind breaking the rules.”

you scoff at him and pat his shoulder as you walk past him through the doorway. “i would’ve locked you out if i knew you were going to be weird about it.”

“weird? how am i being weird?”

“you were lurking. you’re still lurking.”

“i’m talking to my girlfriend. that’s part of our contract.”

“you’re following me.”

peter smiles. “well, i like you.”

you roll your eyes, almost—almost—smiling when you feel his arms wrap around your waist. “please don’t make me argue about your stalker like tendencies.”

“we don’t have to argue,” peter says, kissing the space beneath your ear. his breath is hot.

“i need to put my shoes on, peter.”

he smiles, his teeth clashing against your skin like a dreadful reminder. some type of jumpscare—minus the fact that you merely lean into him, sans jumping. “we can spare fifteen minutes.”

“how can you be thinking about anything besides the fact that we’re already late to meet may?”

he nibbles on the skin by your collarbone, then licks it, as reprieve. “it must be the lipstick.”

“you’ve literally seen me with lipstick before. i wore some on our first date.”

“‘s probably why i like it so much.”

his lips are needy as they crawl around your skin. his hands are stationary, but they pose their own threat as they lurk.

“peter, we have to go.”

“i’m not known for my punctuality,” he spins you around, his lips curled in mischief, “you know.”

“i’m aware.”

you refuse to indulge him. your brows furrow, your hands held in the air—just so you can avoid accidentally touching him. purposefully.

“then why are you so worried?” peter asks, kissing your cheek.

“i’m not kissing you,” you say, instead of answering.

“you’re not?” peter pouts like a child. he is far too grown.

“no.”

“how come?”

you try to pull away from him, but, shockingly, peter is stronger than you are. your will is weak. “you’re going to smudge my lipstick. i just finished.”

“you have more, don’t you?”

“not the point.”

“what?” he asks, his voice so serious and teasing. “you don’t want to kiss me?”

“no, i do not.”

you look away from him, admiring a wall that has always been there.

“are you sure?” peter asks, ducking so he can catch your eyes again, because he is nothing if not cruel.

you break, pouting. “peter,” you whine, “we’re not going to be late again.”

“i think we are.”

“you can kiss me when we get home later,” you promise, trying again to wiggle out of his grasp.

“that is a terrible compromise.”

“you won’t compromise,” you snap back. “what else am i supposed to do?”

peter grins, tilting his head. “okay. i have an idea. how about i kiss you, and then we leave? you don’t even have to kiss back, even though we’d both prefer it that way.”

“i’ll kiss you,” you mock him. “you’re the worst negotiator i’ve ever met.”

“then how come we haven’t left yet?”

you scowl at him, and he scowls back, but his eyes are alight.

your skin is ravenous with an ache to touch him, he’s so close that kissing him would be nothing—merely breathing, really—but you don’t want to lose this game to peter. and you dont want him to stop looking at you.

he pretends to check a watch. “hmm, it’s getting awfully late.”

“are you british all of the sudden?”

peter grins, biting his lip before he tries to bite you. you lean away. “if you like my accent, all you have to do is say so.”

“i like it when you get out of my way, and stop trying to sabotage me. i like that a lot.”

“no clue what you mean, dear.”

you roll your eyes and manage to cross your arms in his hold.

“i wonder how we could solve this,” peter muses, tapping his finger on your waist. “it’s a big problem.”

“i could leave you behind and have lunch with may myself.”

“that’s one option.”

you roll your eyes again.

“i was thinking something else, though,” peter says, and he’s closer now, but you’re sure that you never saw him move. “something more… proactive.”

“shove it, peter.”

“you don’t even want to hear it?”

you sigh, leaning your chest into him, out of pure delusion. “fine. what?”

peter smiles at you, eyes catching eyes.

the look on his face is soft, delirious. he’s got that look in his eyes, and that smile on his face, and he’s still staring at you like he’s mesmerized by whatever you’re doing.

“what?” you repeat, but softly, like you can’t find your voice in the chest cavity peters taken hold of.

“kiss me,” he says, softly, and it’s really not your fault that his lips are already brushing yours.

and it’s not your fault when you lean in, sighing in relief at the mere feel of him.

you’re almost breathless, from the tiniest of kisses.

but then you kiss peter again, and again, and your hands finally wrap around him—keeping hold of something real in this fake reality—and your voice isn’t your own when you groan at peter for making you do this.

you have evacuated your body. you have lost common sense.

but it doesn’t matter, because kissing peter has always made you forget all of that.

and it still does, when he pulls back, grinning like he’s won. “see?” he says, voice ragged. “it was simple.”

“we’re going to be late and it’s your fault.”

peter laughs, kissing you again, staring at your red lips. “gladly. i’ll take all the blame.”

“and you’re making it up to me later.”

“whatever you say,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your bottom lip.

he releases you and watches as you finally put on your shoes.

you don’t think it necessary to mention the red marks on his lips. it’s not like it’s your fault they’re there.

*

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

NEW YEARS DAY- P.B PARKER

Pairing: Best Friend (with benefits)! Peter x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: your best friend peter practically begs you to be his date at his works new years party, as a friend and a lover. new year, same benefits. 

Warnings: SMUT, teasing/ sexual tension, heavy praise kink, some mocking and slight degradation, daddy kink, petnames, hair pulling, swearing, alcohol consumed, really just two lovebirds pretending they arent in love for their own sake

“i want your midnights, but ill be cleanin up bottles with you on new years day. hold onto the memories- they will hold onto you.. and i will hold onto you”- new years day, taylor swift

The lights glimmered brightly, the soft white glow mixed in with the ferns that were draped across your fireplace. You watched them intensely, observing the patterns they followed. 

They were on a timer, every other little light glowing brightly, to then fade out and let the other pairs shine. 

The tv remote you had once clutched was now tossed back in the cushions, hidden away as your attention had strayed from endlessly flicking the channel to find a holiday movie for some form of white noise. It was depressing in here, despite the decorations that were scattered across your apartment. 

No amount of sugar cookie-scented candles could mask the fact you reeked of sorrow, and a sense of self-pity that hung over you like mistletoe. 

The holidays were terrible alone.

 You should be accustomed to it by now, not having anyone to really rely on but yourself and your best friend Peter for the past couple years. But you didn’t want to bother him now- it was break after all, and you presumed he was with his family. 

You admired that about him, how close he was with his family- how much he loved them so dearly. 

Still, you felt lonely and isolated. 

The snow continued to fall outside, and you dreaded the fact you knew you would have to shovel it all in the morning. It was a cycle that never ended in your mind as the fireplace crackled to life, the faux flames seeming to laugh at you. 

You huffed, slumping back into the pillows. 

This sucked. This really fucking sucked. 

It was laughable, in all honesty. The fireplace was right about that. It was New Years Eve, everyone out drinking and partying- and here you were staring at decor you had no energy to remove. 

You contemplated on making yourself a cup of hot coco as a distraction, knowing the chocolaty goodness would tingle your taste buds. But before you could decide on what flavor you wanted, the phone rang.

 It was an old telephone from the 90s that hung up on the wall, with its long curly wire. You kept it because you thought it was cute, and even ended up painting it a deep shade of red, with little pink hearts to adorn it. Peter often teased you about it, and your funky old-school tastes. 

No one ever called your landline except for Peter, because he was the one and only person you had given your number to. You felt a sudden sense of excitement bloom in your stomach as you hopped over the couch, nearly bolting to the phone. 

“This is the Y/L/N residence, how can I be of assistance?” you chirp out giddily as you twirled the cord around your finger, feeling like a lovesick teenager as you heard him laugh over the other end. 

“You free tonight birdy?” he asked, though he sounded breathless, a loud clatter following his question. He was in a rush. “Yeah sorry, I made plans with my Christmas lights to stare at them all night. You’ll have to book another time.” you joked. 

“Hah hah. Very funny-” Something fell in the background again, and you heard him curse under his breath. “Everything good there?” you asked with a slither of worry in your voice, the banging making you anxious. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m just in a rush and I’m tripping and knocking over everything and I need you.” You froze, eyes widening as you slumped against the wall behind you. 

He needed you? What could he possibly need you for on a Thursday night? 

The only time he ever said that was when the two of you played the sex card. The best friends with benefits card. A card that was getting dealt more often, as the two of you grew closer and closer. 

Yes, he was your best friend, one you had cherished for years and one who understood you like no other. But he also was something more, a caregiver, an outlet. The friendship was amazing. The sex was even better. 

But this was different, the fact he was calling you out of the blue. The two of you decided on no ‘you up?’ fiascos. You were classier than that. 

Before you could speak, he cut off your thoughts, words coming out faster than you could comprehend. “That came out wrong sorry. I just have a work party tonight and everyone's bringing a plus one and I told them I was bringing someone but in reality, I didn’t have anyone andnowI’mju-”

 “So you need me to be your date. Is that what you're asking?” you finished for him, heartbeat picking up speed as you clenched the phone tighter. Maybe you had plans tonight with him after all. The idea of being in his presence soon made you dizzy. 

“Yes. God yes please birdy. Please.” he muttered out, and you could hear him attempt to shove on his shoes, balancing on the front closet door. “How soon?” 

“An hour. And we still gotta get parking, so get ready like… yesterday!” You started to panic, brain shortcircuiting on how to get ready in that amount of time. 

Not only to impress Peter but to impress his colleagues too. First impressions were always important. They were life lasting, and impactful. And the pressure of having to dig that out of your closet gave you a sense of uneasiness. 

“Wait Peter wha-”

 “Okay see you soon, love you birdy!! Thank you sweetheart mwah mwah mwah-” He kissed the phone a few times to cut you off before quickly hanging up- giving you next to nothing to work with.

 No dress code, no ideas for hair and makeup. You mindlessly hung up, plopping the phone back to its colourful home on the wall. Staring at the lights, you sighed. 

You were so, so unbelievably screwed.

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

 Saying ‘you were screwed’ was an understatement. 

A huge one. 

The outfit you had originally thought of to wear was nowhere to be seen. You had dug through every drawer, had searched each closet high and low, and had even dug through your dirty laundry hamper in hopes to find it. 

No luck. 

It was as if the gods had rooted against you, refusing to knock on wood in your favor. Your makeup was done, hair done up with pearls to match- but the key part you needed was missing. Time was running out, and you felt your anxiety skyrocket. 

If it was a flutter of butterflies in your stomach before, it was bumper cars at the fair now. Bumping, smashing, and twisting your insides as you tried to calm yourself down to no avail. Thumb brought up to your lips, your teeth dug into the cuticle and you tasted the hot metallic taste of the blood you drew. 

It was sweet in a way, the slight stinging bringing you comfort as you paced. You were practically out of ideas, and the hands on your clock ticked louder and louder like cicadas the longer you waited for another idea to come to mind. 

After minutes of mindless ‘thinking’, all you and your blood-stained lips could ponder was the idea of your mother's old vintage red dress. It was classy, almost too classy- which was exactly what you were afraid of. 

But it would have to do. 

What other options did you really have? Going naked? 

A quick tap sounded from your front door, Peter stepping inside before you had a chance to hobble over to open it. Your dress was slung on your body, zipper and buttons undone as you stumbled out of your bedroom in your unfastened heels. 

“Hi!” you stammered out breathlessly, attempting to brush your hair from your eyes that had fallen out of place. “Hi birdy. Wow you look…” He trailed off, looking you up and down with a look of awe plastered across his face. 

Something burned brightly in you as you ducked your head, trying to hide the smile that bloomed on your face with failure. “I look?” 

“So pretty. So fuckin pretty.” he laughed, making you beam brightly, happy with the validation he gave you. “It's not too much or anything?”

 “Oh it's so much. But in the best way, gosh you look beautiful. I'm gonna shut up now.” he blushed, cheeks turning a bright shade of rose as you walked over to him, unable to hide your giggles at how flustered he could get sometimes. 

He ran a hand through the messy chestnut locks on his head, all grown out and sticking out at weird angles- as if he forgot to brush it properly. But you liked it. You liked these little details about Peter, when his hair was extra messy, when he accidently got dried toothpaste on his shirt, or when only one shoe was untied and he refused to bend down and fix it. 

You didn't bother to notice it, even if it was a good thing because you knew Peter would just act self-conscious and freak out that he didn’t have enough time to fix it. Which he didn’t- really, but you didn’t want him to anyways. 

“You need me to zip you up?” he asked softly, to which you just nodded, turning around in front of his tall figure to reveal the opened back of the garment. A breath whooshed between his clenched teeth as he saw your bare skin, no lacy, frilly bra underneath. 

Just soft, delicate skin.

 His fingers trailed up your spin gently, the back of his knuckle coaxing the skin before he snapped out of his trance, remembering the two of you were on a time crunch. The both of you were already running late.

 He looked up at the ceiling, so very tempted to peer down at the curve of your ass he adored so much and zipped you up as quickly as he could. All he could smell was soft roses and sex that washed off of you in waves. 

It made him sick with desire and he wanted nothing more than to say fuck the party, and start a new party with you in your bed. Or on the couch. Or the counter. 

Peter stared down at his watch, watching the hands tick by as you tried to do up your shoes. Out of the corner of his eye he saw you struggling, using the wall as support- something he did almost an hour prior.

 Before he knew what he was doing, he was down on one knee. “Cmere. Up.” he scolded, and you laughed as he grabbed your foot, propping it up on his knee so he could work at it. 

“Am I that slow bug?” 

“Yes. Yes, yes painfully slow. My grandma can move faster than that.” he teased, which resulted in his head being lightly smacked. 

“I’m trying!” you huffed, the two of bickering like children on the schoolyard. “I know, I know. I’m teasing you bird.” he smiled, patting your calf as he fitted the heel to your foot, standing up with a start. 

“We got somewhere to be.”

 “That we do.” you nodded, watching as he swung the door wide open, bowing as he allowed you to pass. Your hand was grabbed, the two of you flying down the hall, laughing so hard you could barely breathe as the door slammed behind you.

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

“Prepare yourself.” Peter muttered under his breath as the two of you stepped into the front foyer, the glass doors shutting out the chill wind that had followed you here. 

It was beautiful here, the ambiance of piano music trickling out near the bar, people in fancy dresses and suits lingering on the grand staircase. It felt like a hotel lobby, with all the modern elements, little pieces of gold engraved into each surface. 

“Wow this is… something else.” you mumbled, the two of you clearly out of your element as you glided through the entryway, arms linked so tightly as if you thought he'd run away. 

“It's a lot. They always go all out on New Years, which is good and bad.” 

“Good because more booze?” you assumed, nodding with a smile plastered on your face to a couple as they passed by. “Exactly. It's like… bottomless here.” 

Your eyebrows raised, knowing that could never mean anything good. Especially on New Years. “Did you want a drinking buddy?” 

He smirked. “Perhaps.”

 “Oh you're bad Parker. Such a bad, bad influence.” you giggled as he pulled you along, past the dozens of twinkle lights and traces of white tulle that made the space seem mystical and bright despite it being cold and modern.

 People stared at the two of you as he pulled you up the stairs, and you laughed as you struggled to keep up with his eager footing. Suddenly, you didn’t care what others thought of you. You were with him, and you were happy. 

Let the other couples look. You didn’t know them, and even though Peter did, he didn’t seem to care either. Let them be jealous of your happiness and the fake plastic wrinkles in their own relationships. It was their problem- not yours. 

The upper level of the building lingered with even more people, and you feared you'd get sick of them before the night even started. Still, you kept a smile plastered on your face as Peter introduced you to some of his colleagues, and though they were beyond friendly and welcoming- you continued to sip your drink. 

You were happy to be out of the house, and with Peter most of all- but there came a time when there were too many people, too much noise. Music constantly trickled from the speakers, the conversations overlapping as you drew warry. The air was thick with the smell of booze and melted chocolate, the taste still sweet on your tongue as Peter had fed you a chocolate-dipped strawberry from the fountain a few minutes prior. 

The two of you lingered in a corner somewhere, bones shaking with the vibrations of the music as the city lights washed over your skin. Hands were tight as they dug into Peter's suit, the sudden amount of drinks catching up to you all at once. 

“You doing okay birdy? Still chripin away?” he mummed down to you softly, and you nodded.

 “Yeah. Everyone is super nice and I’m having a good time I’m just..” 

“Overwhelmed?” he asked, knowing you often felt that way in a room full of people. That's why he liked to be with you- always, to protect you. To be able to pull you away and to comfort you, in times like these. 

It was darker in this spot of the room, less stimulating near the back windows, away from the bar. 

“Well I’m so proud of you for making it this long. Seriously, you have no idea what this means to me. You're doing amazing. Thank you.” he smiled, kissing the top of your head gently, making you giddy. 

You weren't sure if it was his sudden clingy affections he was portraying, or the champagne in your bloodstream that made you woozy. You felt as if you were on cloud nine, your mouth an endless stream of word jumbles that needed to spill over. 

“I love you. I love doing things with you b-bug.” you hiccuped, squeezing him around his middle even tighter, his white undershirt wrinkled from your sentiments. 

“I love you too baby. You know that, yea?”

 Baby.  

Your heart fluttered as fast as a hummingbird's wings as the pet name consumed you whole. “Yea. You’re the best Peter.” you exclaimed, hand starting to trace the buttons of the crisp shirt he wore, feeling the warmth radiate off his smooth skin as he sharply inhaled. 

He knew the game you were starting to play with him. And he indulged in it.

 “Mhmm birdy. You smell so good.” he mumbled into your hair, kissing the top of your head as you giggled. “Do I taste as good as I smell?” you teased quietly, your warm breath tickling the shell of his ear as you yanked on his shirt for him to bend down, causing goosebumps to break out across his pale skin now deep with flushed pink.

 The bulge in his pants was evident, and it took everything in him not to bend you over the nearest surface to spread your legs to show off what was his. 

“Do you wanna find out?” he slurred, breath slightly tinted with the smell of booze as he kissed your skin, anywhere he could reach. You knew it was wrong, sneaking off like highschoolers at a dance to go fuck in some corridor, but you didn’t care. 

All you knew was that his hands felt too good on your body, the way he had started to slowly feel you up, groping your tits through the dress. His words sounded too pretty when they slipped from his mouth, like silk sheets as they slid over your body. 

Doe eyes wide, you nodded innocently, knowing it would get an even bigger rise out of him. He growled, grabbing your hand as he weaved you through the crowds, bolting for the washrooms. 

The smells of perfume, the body heat and the buzz from the clusters washed off you like water as you were whisked away into the washroom, door locking behind you with a click. 

Occupied. 

You survived the spacious washroom, knowing this one room was probably worth as much- if not more than your entire apartment. 

 “They're clean don’t worry baby. I wouldn't want my whore getting all icky, now would I?” he smirked, beckoning you over to where he stood by the large vanity.

 “Although she's got such an icky mind, filled with those dirty little thoughts. Just couldn't wait could you birdy?” You felt your body get hot at his sly, mocking comments, turning you on more than you thought was even possible.

 “How could I wait Daddy?” you giggled,  giving him a little twirl before you pranced over to him, the tile cool to the touch as you leaned against it. The air was stolen from your lungs as he spun you around, bending you over the counter before you could bat an eye possessiveness coursing through his blood like hot coals crackling. 

He was needy. He had been waiting to touch you, feel you, destroy you all night. He wasn't ashamed to admit it. 

“You're such a silly girl baby. Needy lil thing..” Peter trailed off as he took you in, the soft, hazy lighting making you feel secluded and inscrutable. 

The way he looked at you made you feel beautiful. It sparked something in your chest only he could truly light, making you feel needy yet empowered. You craved the feeling, the eagerness making your thong a puddle as his once soft gaze turned ravenous. 

Pupils dark and dilated, the concentration evident on his face as he tugged at his bottom lip, as if he was scared you'd ever leave his memory.

 “I’m your needy little thing. Don’t you want me to be needy for you daddy?” You pouted, batting your eyelashes at him through the mirror as he towered over you from behind, hands squeezing your waist. 

“Always birdy. Only mine.” he smiled, and you watched as he unbuttoned his pants, a quick smack to your ass making you whimper.

 “Off.” he commanded, unzipping your dress, watching as it slid down past your shoulders, revealing your breasts to him as he tugged down your panties. 

“You're such a mess baby. Such a messy, messy girl.” he clucked his tongue as his finger glided across your folds, the sweet juices coating the pad, making him smirk. 

Your head folded down, forehead resting against the chill marble of the edge of the sink, Peter's dirty talk never failing to make you slip between his fingers like sludge. He always knew what to say, how to touch you. It was almost as if he had been keeping track, taking little notes of the slight little moves he would make before the two of you started hooking up, finding out what words made you just that more flustered. 

“Peter please jus-” Your words were cut off as he yanked your hair, forced to look back up at him.

 “I want you to look at how pretty you are when I stuff you full baby. Eyes up here- yea?” 

An O was formed as he grabbed your hips once more, wasting no time as he slipped inside you. “Fuck. Fuck birdy, look, look at me.” he stuttered, a moan slipping from your parted lips as your heated gaze met his own through the reflection. 

It was a dirty scene, the sight of the two of you making you want to squeeze your legs shut. Peter was always vocal, tonight more than usual, whether that was from the booze in his system or simply because of the fact he had you under his control like this. 

“Peter I can’t I can’t!” you babbled as you clenched around him, his cock brushing your g-spot as he fully sat inside you, slowly beginning to slip out of you to repeat the motion anew. 

“Yes, yes you can birdy you're doing so, so good for me. Just keep chirpin for daddy okay? Keep on lookin at me.” he whispered, his hand finding its place weaved in your locks, pearls shinning dimly in the light as the blush stained his cheeks. 

The moans that slipped from you drove him crazy, and he hoped to god the people outside could hear how beautiful you sounded, how pretty the slapping of skin was as he thrust into you harder. 

“I-I love you-” you breathed out as he grinned, clenching around him tighter.

 “I love you too birdy. Such a sweet girl. You gonna cum for me?” he asked mockingly, and you nodded, unable to form the words. Bliss consumed you, making you cathect as he murmured soft-spoken praises that tickled down your spine, the fullness you felt causing you to grip the counter until you swore your nails would break. 

You came with a cry of his name, clamping your hand over your mouth to try and muffle the sounds. 

“No, no sweetheart let them hear you.” he insisted, your eyes rolling to the whites as he stilled, growling as he released inside of you. Warmth spread down your inner thighs as you felt him slowly adjust, the sounds of the muffled music booming even louder through the walls. 

“Thank you bug. I needed that.” you cooed softly, sighing as he stroked your back in soothing circles before helping you get dressed again. 

“We both did.” Peter's hands were warm, his grip sweet and tender as he hugged you around your middle, leaning down to rest his head in the crook of your neck as you touched up the pearls that had fallen loose in your hair. 

“Do you think anyone noticed we were gone?” you asked, eyeballing the door that had somehow still remained locked and still- no one trying to find their way in. 

“Oh probably. They were most likely looking for you in the crowd for eye candy. I know I would be.” he shrugged and you laughed, smacking him gently. 

“You are really beautiful birdy. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” he whispered, kissing your exposed skin, making you flustered even though he had just seen you in your most vulnerable headspace two minutes earlier. 

His compliments never failed to make you feel giddy, because you knew he truly meant them. “You're not too bad yourself handsome.” you patted his cheek, linking your hand with his as you unravel yourself from the tangle of limbs, leading him back over towards the party outside. 

He paused. 

Confusion was written across your face as he held you back from unlocking the bathroom door, and you were unsure as to why he was being so hesitant to walk back out to the crowd of people who adored him. 

“Bug?” 

“Do you wanna ditch? Go to the diner and get some food or something?” he asked, chewing on his lip as he waited for your response. It was like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. 

Well, a second one, considering the most of the stress had been taken from them when he had fucked you like a bitch in heat. You were so happy to do things for Peter, but it was even nicer when they were with him. When the two of you were one on one. This was more like the night you had hoped for with your best friend.

 “Vanilla milkshakes?” 

He smiled, waltzing over to unlock the door, pulling it open, the colder air from the main floor hitting you all at once as you shivered. “Deal. C'mon birdy, I know a way out of here- away from everyone.” he divulged, tugging your arm as the two of you ran out into the night- clock striking midnight the second your foot stepped out onto the worn pavement. 

Fireworks shot up, all their bright blazing colours shimmering throughout the skyline as they exploded, the bell reaching its toll. You squeezed his hand a little tighter, watching the awe on his face as the shades of reds, blues and pinks shimmered in his eyes. 

New year, same man. And you wouldn't have it any other way.                                                                                                      

[citrusy-lemons]

pancake-cakes

tasm!peter x reader

summary: late night cravings bring out some deeper feelings.

author's note: HOLY SHIT, count on me to go MIA for a month after posting. honestly tho i'm so sorry, i've got school and extracurriculars and projects and shit and i haven't really gotten time to write and my schedule is still super hectic, hopefully i'll be able to get other stuff out soon but no promises :/

let me know what you think? constructive criticism is welcome and please be nice :)

see, the middle of the night wasn't meant for this. it's to sleep and dream and pee.

not for baking a cake without having most ingredients of the cake. but you'd gotten a sudden craving and it was a weekend tomorrow, so bad decisions were inevitable.

did you have a million assignments to do? maybe. but peter also had a million assignments to do and he was still here, so technically, he's also making bad decisions. he was aware of that fact.

mind you he did try to convince you to go back to sleep at first but you wore him down. he didn't put up a big fight, he never did, against you.

he's convinced himself that he was only there to watch over you and make sure you didn't slice a finger or spill the flour, not to help you out with your late night shenanigans. but he was cutting up the strawberries so, really, he didn't have a strong resolve.

"you know, i think that when the box says 'pancake mix' you're supposed to make pancakes," he said, turning to you, who was reading the back of said box.

were you trying to bake a cake in the middle of the night with pancake batter cuz you didn't have the stuff for the cake and didn't want to go to the grocery store to get it? kinda. would peter have gone and got the stuff himself if you'd asked? yes.

"i didn't listen to you the last 17 times, i'm not gonna listen to you now, and besides," you said, pouring the mix into a bowl, "a pancake is just a cake but made on a pan instead of an oven. we're just changing the recipe a bit," you shrugged, like it was obvious and he was the stupid one.

"there are so many things wrong with that sentence, i dont even know where to begin,"

"here's a hint, don't."

you were being mean, you knew that. you didn't mean it. peter knew that. and you knew that peter knew that but you would apologize later. he knew that. he sighed dramatically.

"you wound me,"

you rolled your eyes at that. pretending to be annoyed at him was easy. wiping the smile away from your face when you were around him wasn't.

"if i had a dollar for every time you're wounded, i'd be filthy rich."

he glanced up at you. he knew that that wasn't completely a joke, it had a bittersweet tone to it. was that the reason why you were up at this ungodly hour? peter knew that you'd been stressed lately, he didn't know he had a hand in that.

"hey, you wanna tell me what's up?"

you didn't meet his eye, but you did stop fiddling with the bowl. almost immediately, you grabbed the knife out of his hand, mumbling, "you're cutting them all wrong,"

you both knew that wasn't true. one of the perks of having grown up with may was that peter was a fantastic cook. he'd been doing this sort of stuff forever. you needed to get better at excuses.

he gently laid his hand over yours to stop you and said your name softly, pleadingly. a long pause. you complied.

"it's just that," you started with a sigh, and dropped the knife, "you're my best friend peter, and i know that being spiderman means a lot to you," hesitation creeps up as you get to the actual issue. peter senses a 'but' coming. you look at him.

"but you come home every night with bruises everywhere, in pain, and i know you say that they'll go away in the morning and they do but," you're rambling now, he doesn't stop you.

"you have to see it from my perspective, i-" another sigh, you look away, "i get scared, peter."

oh. you were worried for him. he wonders how he didn't realise that before. that time he came home with a stab wound and you looked like you were going to cry he thought you were nauseous at the sight of blood. peter was an idiot.

"i know i shouldn't but i dont like the thought of you getting beat up every night." you were talking with your hands now, "imagine how you would feel if i came home with bruises all over my body and told you not to worry and that i'll be fine in a couple hours." you looked at him again. there was a sort of pain in your eyes. peter wishes it weren't there.

"it doesn't feel good peter. and you assume that i'm supposed to be okay with it?" you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, turning back to the strawberries. your hands were shaking.

peter thought about it. about what you'd said. you were scared for him and he understood that. it couldn't have been easy to be with someone like him. but he couldn't very well abandon spiderman. it was a part of him now. he knew that you knew that, but at the same time, he understood your point.

he thought about how he'd feel if the roles were reversed. if you came home with the type of wounds he did every night, he would be terrified. he couldn't blame you, of course he couldn't.

but he was spiderman, he had a responsibility, an unspoken vow to this city. he had opportunities and powers that no one else did, and he wanted to do good with it.

he hadn't asked for it, but he still had it. if he gave up being spiderman, he didn't think his conscience would let him live with it.

"i'm not asking you not to be spiderman," you spoke, finding your voice, "of course i won't do that. i'm just saying..." you trailed off, unsure of what you wanted and whether you were allowed to have it.

peter took both your hands into his, silently begging you to look at him. you did.

"i know what you're saying, and i understand. i don't blame you, i get where you're coming from and i promise, i'll be fine," he said, softly. he knew you were anxious about his safety.

"i can't give up being spiderman, and i know that's not what you're saying, but you have to understand, i can't not do it, it's a part of me, and i swear i will be more careful," his brown eyes bore into yours, willing you to understand. you blinked and unconsciously looked to the floor.

"but what if, being careful isn't enough one day? what if it isn't just some robbers or burglars but some other things? what if it's one of those aliens or mutants or something and you can't defend yourself? what am i supposed to do then, pete?"

you closed your eyes again, trying to stop the tears. peter's heart was tearing itself knowing that he was the reason for them. how could he tell you that him being the cause for your tears hurt more than any knife in the world?

"hey, look at me," he said, searching for your eyes. you shook your head but looked up at him anyway, the tears in your lashes resolutely not giving in to gravity.

"nothing is going to happen to me. i've handled stuff like that, you know. i know you're worried and upset but i promise, nothing will happen. you need to trust me, okay? we're going to be fine. please, I need you to trust me."

he said your name like it's the last time he'll ever get to, not in a way a friend is supposed to.

you sniffed, "i trust you, i do. it's this city that i don't trust," you steeled yourself, "but if you're sure, and you believe we'll be fine, then i do too."

he cracked a smile then, and pulled you in for a hug. a tight one. neither of you let go for quite a few minutes. you relished in it.

"god, okay i know i'm being silly, i'm sorry," you said after you'd pulled away, rubbing at your eyes.

"you're not being silly, don't be sorry. it's completely okay and valid. don't ridicule your thoughts, you're allowed to feel," peter said, in a scold-ish manner that he'd no doubt learnt from may.

"and please step away from the strawberries, and go back to butchering your so-called 'cake'," he said with a teasing smile, bumping his hips into yours to move you back to the bowl of pancake mix.

you scoffed incredulously, back into your playful demeanor, "excuse you, i would have perfected this pancake-cake if i weren't feeling sleepy right now, so, unfortunately for you, you won't get to taste this deliciousness, whenever i do get to make it,"

"oh, what a tragedy, i won't get to torture my tastebuds with whatever concoction you manage to brew up,"

you shoved at him, not that he moved an inch, and grabbed the plate of cut strawberries.

"just for that, i'm gonna eat these strawberries in bed using your pillow as a table, and you know i can be a very messy eater," you laughed like an evil sorcerer and ran towards the bedroom.

peter, horrified at the thought of sleeping on a sticky pillow, ran after you, forgetting that he had sticky hands himself. (pun intended, i'm sorry i couldn't not do it)

"come back here you!"

the pancake mix in the bowl, the half pack of strawberries waiting to be cut, and the anxiety were all left forgotten back in the kitchen.

[esha-isboogara]

quiet down

this was written after i saw the new movie so excuse the…horny. i tend to forget how to act around pretty boys like him.

andrew!peter parker x reader

peter won’t stop just because of a phone call.

☆ MINORS GET ON OUT!!! , porn what plot, piv sex, praise, dom!peter, a bit of praise

y/n dug her nails into the pale skin of peters muscled shoulders,applying pressure as he increased his speed. droplets of blood could be seen if one were to look hard enough.

it would leave a nasty wound the next morning you were sure of it. but it didn’t matter now. the feelings were overwhelming.

"you just can't seem to help yourself can you"? he said with a playful smile while gripping her waist and pounding into her core. hitting all the right spots and angles.  "love my dick that much hmm? i can tell how much you love my cock inside you. actually i find it really cute”.

words were not able to form. all she could do was nod. eyes squeezed shut , mouth half open.

"no answer huh? you're more cock dumb than i had thought. you gonna cum ? go ahead princess , let go”.

the ringing of a cell phone pierced both of their ears at once.

"fuuuck, i gotta take this baby". he said with an exasperated sigh after glancing at the glowing screen of the phone.  "it's my lab partner..we're meeting up tomorrow to complete our final project or something along those lines".

the way he said it was so nonchalant. it was almost ridiculous. he was right in the middle of giving you the best dick down of your life and he was taking phone calls.

you slowed your pace down to a halt, a wave of disappointment rushing over your body. your orgasm was fast approaching and now it had come to a complete halt.

"hey dude what's up". he said in a cool tone before turning to you and mouthing the words "did i say stop"?

you were still for a few seconds unsure of what to do.

he was on the phone for gods sake. if his friend heard you the embarrassment would surely kill you.

peter wrapped one of his strong arms around your waist and got to his feet. at that moment you were sure you could feel him in your womb.

biting your tongue as hard as you possibly could was all you could do from screaming his name. the sweet sensation of being filled to the brim was nothing short of euphoric.

gracefully he placed her on her back atop the mattress still holding the phone to his ear.

"Yeah yeah man. this city is getting crazy...mhm..yeah yeah hold on a second my girlfriend needs something".

he put the call on mute. "i'm not gonna stop fuckin ya just because he's on the phone...i just need you to be quiet. you wouldn't want him to know you're just my cockdumb slut now would you"?

again you nodded, unable to form words at this point. broken moans and gasps were all that came out.

his thrusts became less erratic. “now be a good girl for me okay? think you can do that”?

[ghostlyfleur]

♡ tasm!peter parker