#mcu!peter one shot

[spider-stark]

INFINITELY YOU

part three // spitfire

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, minors DNI

WORD COUNT - 4.5k

// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite

name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker // tobey!peter = pete

On the walk back from Peter Pan’s, it seemed as though Parker had managed to entirely escape the sputtering awkwardness that had ensnared him the night before. 

And, after countless city blocks of listening to him babble about absolutely everything and anything, you realized that there was one very striking similarity between him and Peter. 

Both boys had a fervent interest in all things nerd. 

“New Hope takes place nearly two decades after the rise of the Galactic Empire, meaning that Leia is only nineteen when she's kidnapped and forced aboard the Death Star! Which is like, absolutely insane, right? Seriously! Imagine being nineteen years old and stuck inside of something that has the potential to obliterate an entire planet!” 

Shoving open the lobby door to your complex, Parker hardly even waits for you to hum your agreement before continuing his retelling of the Star Wars film. 

“And at the exact same time, Luke is finally beginning his Jedi training! Which, honestly, nineteen is actually super old for that, but-” 

Moving towards the stairs, Parker close on your heels, you cut him off with a question. “Too old? Nineteen is hardly even an adult,” you argue. “What age do most Jedi start training?” 

“About four or five, so obviously Luke was way behind,” 

Not even a full three stairs up, you come to a grinding halt, leaving Parker to bump into your back. “Four?!” You cry out, wide-eyed as you spin around to face him. “That’s insane!” 

Parker only lifts his shoulders, clearly not understanding the reason for your horror. 

Furthering your point, you add, “There’s nothing ethical about taking a bunch of little kids and training them to be weird, intergalactic warriors!” 

“It’s the best way to train them!” He lifts his hand defensively, explaining, “The earlier they start training, the less likely it is that the kids will have formed an attachment to their families! That way they learn to act out of logic instead of emotion!” 

For a heartbeat, you’re rendered entirely speechless by the absurdity of his claim, left to stand with your mouth agape as you blink at him. 

“That sounds like emotional abuse,” you finally huff, shaking your head. “Actually, scratch that—it doesn’t sound like emotional abuse, it just is!” 

“It’s not abuse-” 

You hold a hand up, stopping him before he can say anything else. “Give me one good reason why a group of adults should withhold love and affection from children if they aren’t abusing them.” 

“Uh, how about the fact that love is basically what made Anakin turn to the dark side!” Parker scoffs, clearly unwilling to recognize how insane the notion he was pushing actually is. 

“Or maybe Anakin turned to the dark side because he was indoctrinated and traumatized by some stupid space cult!” 

The expression on his face is downright laughable. 

It was as if you had just reached out and slapped him across the face. His jaw went slack, his mouth hung open in blatant offense. As a sputtering noise falls from his lips, trying and failing to come up with a good rebuttal, you smirk. 

“Exactly,” you boast, taking his inability to speak as a sign of victory. 

Twirling on your heel, you continue up the stairs, nearly all the way to the top before you finally hear him come stomping up behind you. 

“The Jedi Order is not a cult!” He finally shouts after you. 

Already traipsing through the hallway, fiddling with your keys, you sing-song, “Whatever you say, bug-boy.” 

Reluctant to admit defeat, Parker continues grumbling under his breath as you unlock the door, spouting something off about your lack of respect for George Lucas. 

“Look,” you tell him, pushing the door open, “if liking Star Wars matters this much to you, then I’ll gladly watch them with you.” A wry smile plays on your lips as you turn to look at him, standing in the doorway, “Maybe watching them will be enough to change my opinion on turning kids into galactic slaves.” 

Eyes narrowing in a playful glare, he’s only able to hold the expression for less than a few seconds before a laugh causes him to break character. “I just can’t believe that Peter hasn’t made you watch them already,” he admits. “I had you watch them so much that you could probably recite the scripts from memory alone!” 

His amusement dies off as soon as he finishes the sentence. Despite having been the one to bring it up, the mention of his world seems to cast a sullen shadow over him, ruining his sweet, boyish smile. 

Curiosity instantly claws at you, begging you to ask him why his world seemed to have such a negative effect on him. Or, rather, why his version of you seemed to have such an effect. 

This had happened last night too, when you had asked him if the two of you were friends in his world—and it was because of this that you assume that you’re somehow the common denominator in his discomfort. 

Still, you don’t let yourself ask him about it. For as much as you’re starting to like Parker, you don’t know him nearly well enough to try prying into his life. 

Not yet, at least. 

“Well, you’re more than welcome to force me into sitting through them in this world, too.” You tell him sweetly, sweeping an arm out to gesture inside of your apartment, inviting him. “It’s not like I’ve got any plans for the rest of the day.” 

You couldn’t even remember the last time you did have plans. Life had been so quiet since that last night with Peter and Mj—the night when everything went so horribly wrong. 

Parker sucks in a breath through his teeth, a hand coming to rest against the back of his neck. “I should probably get back out on the streets,” he reluctantly says, sounding more like he was convincing himself of that than you. “But, I don’t know, maybe we can take a rain check on it, yeah?” 

Disappointment washes over you, sudden enough that you’re sure it shines through on your face. It takes a shocking amount of willpower to stop yourself from trying to persuade him to stay, wanting to remind him that two other Spider-Men were already running themselves ragged in pursuit of the villains—so why did he have to go, too? 

You had grown used to his constant talking, having found solace in the chatter that kept you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Selfishly, you wanted him to stay so that you wouldn’t have to be alone; so that you wouldn’t have to risk thinking too long about Doctor Strange or the multiverse or constants or Peter. 

The thought of admitting any of that out loud, however, felt incredibly humiliating. 

“For sure,” you force a smile, trying to ignore the many thoughts swirling in your mind. Then, eyeing the slightly too-tight Ramones shirt that he’d stolen from you, you add, “But shouldn’t you at least come in and change?” 

His nose wrinkles slightly as he shakes his head. “Nah—I think this city has more than enough spider-people swinging around it right now. I figure we might actually benefit from one of us patrolling on the ground-level, y’know? Maybe I can ask around for any giant lizards or blown light bulbs.” 

It’s hard to tell if the last bit is meant to be a joke or not, but you laugh anyway if only to avoid knowing why you should be worried about lizards and light bulbs. 

“Sounds like a plan,” you second his idea. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later then?” 

A surprising sense of joy lights his eyes at the sound of your hesitance, unfitting of the simplicity of the moment, but charming nonetheless. He grins—a wide and endearing sort of grin—as he takes a step back, “I won’t be gone long,” he promises before reminding you, “lock the door behind you, alright? And if you need anything-” 

He pauses, patting the pockets of his jeans only to remember that he didn’t bring a phone with him to this universe—and that, even if he did, there likely wasn’t a wireless plan good enough to support multiversal travel. 

“If you need anything, call 911.” 

“Got it,” you laugh, watching as he stumbles backwards towards the stairwell, cheeks red with faint embarrassment. 

Turning to go inside, you can’t ignore the warmth that now blooms in your chest. 

You could definitely get used to having him around. 

A peculiar sensation prickles at your skin, curling along your spine like icy fingertips. 

Something was wrong. Very wrong. 

The usually comfortable atmosphere of your apartment had shifted. An eerie tension fills the space, a near-suffocating feeling that has the very walls holding their breath, humming a tune of warning as you inch further into the living room. 

Your stomach twists as the sharp tang of exhaust fumes fills your nostrils. By the couch, a faint breeze rustles the curtains of a window, wafting in the nauseating scent of the city street below—a window that hadn’t been open when you left earlier. 

A mere foot or so away, you notice that the picture frame Parker had been fiddling with before is now lying on its face, having been knocked off the end table and abandoned. Atop the table, you notice that the lamp is sitting askew, its base just inches from tumbling over the edge and joining the frame. 

Someone had come in through your window—and it didn’t appear as though stealth had been very important to them, given that they had clearly stumbled into the table upon their entrance. 

Adrenaline floods your senses, your spine stiffening as you take a series of slow, quiet steps. 

Moving towards the corner, you carefully reach out a hand to grab the metal bat propped against the wall. The bat had been an unlikely housewarming present from when you first moved in, given to you by Peter’s mentor and your own reluctant renegade, Tony Stark. For nearly two years now it had sat in this corner, unused and gathering dust—until now. 

You wrap your fingers tightly around the base, wincing slightly as the rubber grip pulls at the still-healing flesh on your palm, making you curse yourself for not properly bandaging the wound last night. 

But you’re used to pain—and so you’re easily able to bite back against it as you ease through the living room, checking for any sign of the intruder's presence. 

As you walk, gripping the bat like your life depends on it, you can’t help but hear Tony Stark’s voice echo in your mind. 

If you’re gonna live alone, then you should have some sort of protection—he had told you, gently placing the cool steel into your hands for the first time, a ribbon tied sloppily around it—not that you need it. 

Satisfied with your search of the living room, you start easing towards the hall. You’re good at sneaking around, having had a lot of practice at it—every movement you make is calculated, every footfall so purposefully gentle that it’s nearly silent. 

Quiet as you were, you could do nothing to ease the sound of your blood thrumming wildly in your own ears, your heart pounding against your chest. 

The incessant beating worries you—because you know that there are people in the world with the unnatural ability to hear such things. Peter, even with his enhanced hearing, had to be close to someone in order to hear something as soft as their heartbeat; but you had heard rumors that there were others who could hear a pulse from miles away, others like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

The thought makes your blood run cold, though you try to push the worries from your mind. From what you know, the Devil doesn’t have a habit of breaking into apartments, nor was Queen's his usual jurisdiction. 

No—what you were dealing with had to be no more than an average burglar! 

An average burglar who, somehow, scaled up the side of a building to break into your apartment… 

Alright—you think, approaching the end of the hall—perhaps it’s a not-so-average burglar, then! Still better than the Devil. 

Peeling one hand from the bat’s handle, you curl your fingers around the doorknob to the guest room, Parker’s room. You ease the door open slowly, trying to keep the old hinges from crying out as you peer into the space. 

The sweet scent of vanilla is the first thing that hits you, contrasted by the subtle bite of vetiver. 

Parker—the room smells of him, even though he had only been here for one night. 

On the bed, the quilt is rumpled and thrown about, pillows strewn about. The doors of the armoire are wide open, a few old shirts hanging over the edge of one of the shelves, no doubt from when he went digging through your clothes in search of something to wear. 

The room was messy, but empty. 

Your shoulders sag, half-a-breath loosing from your lungs. The relief is short-lived, however; as by the time you edge back into the hall to turn towards your own door, you’re overwhelmed with dread. 

If whoever broke in was still here, then this was the only place they could be—save for the bathroom, though you seriously doubt any burglar would have much interest in scouring through your toiletries… 

Easily, gracefully, you twist the knob, the metal yielding quietly to your careful touch. 

The curtains are tightly drawn, eradicating any trace of sunlight and leaving the room cloaked in shadows. But, even in the darkness, you’re able to see the rough outline of a figure sprawled out across your mattress. 

For a split second, you think of Parker’s advice to call 911, the weight of your phone suddenly heavy in your back pocket. 

You think of how you should follow that advice. 

You think about how fast you could run—if you would be able to reach the front door before they could catch up to you. 

But then you stop thinking, disregarding all logic and reason as you take a step into the room, as if drawn in by some invisible force. 

Remaining mindful of your surroundings, you slowly approach the edge of the bed. Squinting in the darkness, you try to study the body laid out atop your comforter. Watching the steady rise-and-fall of their chest, it suddenly hits you that, whoever they are, they’re asleep. 

Slinking around the corner and coming to stand at your bedside, you’re finally close enough that you can see them in spite of the absence of light. Crimson and blue spandex clings tightly to their arms as they cling one of your pillows to their chest, and you feel your entire body sag with relief as you loosen your grip on the bat. 

So this must be Peter 2. 

The fabric of his mask is bunched up and resting along the bridge of his nose, which is somewhat smushed against the pillow he’s holding, no doubt leaving him to breathe in the scent of laundry detergent and your perfume. 

Lower, you can make out the subtle contours of his jawline and the curve of soft, pink lips. Higher, you’re met with the impassive stare of then white lenses sewn into his mask. 

The lenses shield his eyes from your view, and a curious feeling begins to tug at the furthest corners of your mind. Take it off—it seems to whisper, compelling you to move in closer, your shins pressing against the side of the mattress—take it off. 

You grit your teeth and try to ignore the feeling, try to ignore the velvet-voice slithering through your mind; begging you to look at him, to touch him, to notice him, to-

Pain shoots along the side of your temple, likely in response to the sudden tightness in your jaw. It distracts you enough that you’re able to shake the strange feeling long enough to regain your focus—even if the remnants of it still linger. 

You shouldn’t be interested in him—you should be pissed at him. 

Not only had he broken into your house, which was already bad enough, but he had also climbed into your bed and made himself cozy! The absolute gall, the audacity he must have, has you allowing the tiniest sliver of rage to ignite inside of you. 

Both hands still gripping the bat, you lower it from where it rests against your shoulder to swiftly jab its head into his stomach. 

A cough sputters past his lips as the impact pushes the air from his lungs. 

You’re actually shocked that you landed the blow—in truth, you had expected his spider-sense to kick in and detect the incoming hit, waking him with just enough time to dodge the shot. But, apparently, his instincts had made the mistake of assuming that you were of no threat to him. 

“Morning sunshine,” you chime, your feigned cheerfulness set off by a sneer. 

He’s scrambling into an upright position, knees sinking into the mattress as he presses a hand against the sore spot you’d created on his stomach. “What the fu-” 

His voice is hoarse—from sleep or pain, you’re not sure—and he doesn’t finish the curse spewing from his mouth once his head shoots up towards you, as if finally registering the sound of your voice. 

“I don’t know what things are like in your world,” you muse, swinging your bat back to rest against your shoulder, “but in this one, breaking and entering is considered a crime.” 

He’s still catching his breath, and while those damn white lenses covering his eyes give so little emotion away, you assume that he’s going to apologize. It’s what Peter would do, and Parker, too. 

But not him. 

“Your friends said I could stay here,” he defends himself. Taking another deep breath and extinguishing the burning in his lungs, the lower-half of his face transforms into a defiant smirk. “It’s not breaking and entering if you were invited.” 

“And did they tell you to sleep in my bed, too?” You shoot back, brows rising in annoyance. “Word of advice: next time you’re invited to stay in a total stranger’s house, maybe try not to repay their kindness by crawling through their window.” 

He mocks you without missing a beat, “Word of advice: you live in a shitty neighborhood—if you don’t want people coming through your windows, you should try locking them.” 

“Ah, right! Cause the average person is definitely willing to scale the side of a building for the prospect of an unlocked window!” 

“You’re a pretty girl in a dangerous city,” he drones, lifting a shoulder as he meets your sarcasm with purposeful calm. “You’d be surprised what people would be willing to do for a chance at getting you alone.” 

The insinuation sends a shiver down your spine, but you mask your unease, flashing a smile that’s more predatory than sweet. “Aw,” you coo, “so you think I’m pretty?” 

He returns the expression, skillfully avoiding your derisive question. “I think you’re irresponsible—and a little cocky.” 

“Better to be cocky than a felon,” you remark. “Just spare my neighbors the acrobatics show next time, would you? Maybe try knocking on the door like a normal person! Preferably when you’re not dressed like… that.” 

It’s not that his suit wasn’t nice, because it was. But it lacks the advanced Stark-tech that makes Peter’s suit so uniquely sleek, meaning that it was likely safe to assume that no one in this world would mistake this boy for the real Spider-Man. 

Unless they were to catch him scaling up the side of your building… 

“I tried knocking.” he sounds exasperated, as if you are testing his patience. “You weren’t home.” 

You snort a laugh, wondering if he truly believes that is all the reason he needs to break into someone's home. 

“Then you should’ve waited until I got home,” 

“I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. I was too tired to wait.” 

“Then you should’ve slept in the alleyway with the rest of the strays,” you hiss at him, fingers tightening around the bat as your frustration builds. 

The sheer ferocity in your voice gives him pause, stunning him into silence. 

Then the corner of his mouth begins to twitch upwards, lazily grinning at you as if he actually enjoys the verbal onslaught. 

You can tell that he’s watching you through those white lenses, and his tongue darts over his bottom lip, you feel your breath catch in your throat. “Fine,” amusement dances in his tone as he raises his gloved hands, “fair enough.” 

For a moment, no sound comes from your parted lips, leaving you to stand there gaping at him until you remember how to speak. “Fair enough?” You echo, shaking your head slightly. “That’s all you’ve got? No apology?” 

He moves, forcing you to take a step back as he shoves his legs over the side of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s not as tall as Parker, but he still stands an inch or so higher than you, making it hard to not feel intimidated as he stares down at you, your own face staring back from the reflection of his lenses. 

“Better not push your luck, Spitfire,” 

He’s baiting you—he has to be! Using a stupid nickname to get under your skin, to try and prod further at your short temper. And it’s working—god, you hate how much it’s working!—because you find yourself contemplating putting his superhuman durability to the test by whacking him over the head with your bat. 

“By the way,” he says before you have a chance to act on your intrusive thoughts, pointing at your hands, “you’re bleeding.” 

As if his words switch a flip in your head, you’re suddenly aware of the acute throbbing in your palm. You loosen your grip on the bat, letting it clatter recklessly to the floor as you hold your hand out to examine it. 

Unsurprisingly, the rubber handle managed to tear open the barely-healed cut on your palm, courtesy of your too-tight grip on it. You hiss through your teeth, watching as blood oozed from the cut, dripping down towards your wrist. 

Slipping past you, the boy only half-manages to stifle his laugh. “You should probably take care of that.” 

He’s already slipping out into the hall by the time you regain enough awareness to follow after him, gritting your teeth against the pain. 

“And where do you think you’re going?” 

“To the other room,” he calls over his shoulder. Once he’s standing in front of Parker’s door, he spins back around to face you, his snarky expression still in-tact. “Where I’m hoping you won’t follow me.” 

Everything about him causes your blood to boil—his grating voice, his insolent attitude, his stupid soft lips. 

“Would it kill you to be nice to me?” You exclaim, your voice strained with pain as you try to wrap your hand in the lower half of your shirt. 

It takes no-time for blood to start seeping through the thin material, and you certainly don’t look intimidating like this—the lower half of your abdomen on display as you try to apply whatever pressure you can to the wound—but you don’t care. 

“I don’t have to let you and Parker stay in my house—I’m doing it because I’m nice, alright? And, so far, you’ve been nothing but a dick!” 

The thin fabric of his mask shifts, brows furrowing at the mention of Parker. Unlike Peter, however, he doesn’t bother commenting on the nickname. “Nice isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe you. Especially since you’re the one calling me names.” 

The levity in his tone makes you want to scream—what was his deal?! 

You press harder against your bleeding palm, your breathing turning shallow. You’re not sure if it’s frustration or pain or what, but you feel like your head is spinning. “Look, I don’t know you, alright? But this? Isn’t gonna work,” you bark at him, chin lifted defiantly as you stare into his mask, unrelenting. “If you plan on staying in my house, then you’ll get your shit together—got it?” 

His head tilts, curiously watching as you continue your frantic speech. 

“No crawling in through my windows or sleeping in my bed or smarting shit off! And take off that stupid mask!” You huff, shaking your head. “Or, I don’t know, pull it down the rest of the way! Just do something because you look stupid like that!” 

The words are spewing from your mouth like a torrential downpour, fueled by the rage swirling in your stomach and the throbbing in your hand and—

He laughs, a genuine laugh that isn’t born of derision, and you feel your racing thoughts slow to a halt. “You should work on your insults,” reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs his mask off. “Because that was pathetic.” 

It’s no longer just your thoughts that have slowed, but the entire world. Everything around you feels like it has come skidding to a stop—leaving you staring up at him like a dumbfounded idiot. 

He’s beautiful—a commonality among Peter’s variants, it seems. 

He’s smirking, an infuriatingly charming smirk that lets you know he has no intention of listening to your demands for him to silence his quick wit. But you’re not focusing on that—no, you’re focusing on the features that had been hidden from you this whole time; his dark hair, tousled from removing his mask, falls in a chaotic halo around his face, contrasting the vibrance of his eyes. 

His eyes. 

They leave you breathless, and you hate it. Colored with the deepest cerulean you’ve ever seen, his eyes feel like staring into the depths of a crystalline ocean. You can almost feel yourself getting swept up in their tides, feel them enveloping you in a feeling of familiarity, as if this wasn’t the first time you had been pulled into their ebbing waters. 

“Have we–” your mouth has gone dry, your voice cracking. “Have we met before?” 

It’s a ridiculous question, and you recognize that even as it’s spilling from your lips. You couldn’t have met him before—not when the two of you weren’t even from the same universe! 

He seems to be thinking the same thing, and you’re already preparing to take the full force of whatever smartass comment he’s about to fling at you. “I’ve met you,” he says simply, taking you by surprise. Then he inclines his head towards your still-bleeding hand, “You should patch yourself up before you stain the carpet.” 

You look down at your hand, at the hem of your shirt, soaked in blood. 

“But just so I know,” you look back up, his body half-turned towards the door, his fingers resting against the knob, “if Peter and Parker are already taken, then who does that make me?” 

You have to force yourself to take a breath. “What did I call you in your world?” He’s silent for a moment, staring at the floor and chewing on his lip. Then, pushing the door to Parker’s room—their room—open, he smiles.

“Pete.”

a/n - ayyy, pete's finally here! and, ofc, lots of other little important details sprinkled around as well.

also, i really wanna say thank you to everyone who has been reading and enjoying this story so far! it truly means the world to me to read all of the nice comments and to know that you guys are interested in this story! so, again, thank you 💖 as always, please comment/like/reblog and let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!

part four, titled "blooms of subterfuge", to be released april 29th

[marvel-lous-guy]

Peter: That black bag has been there for 4 hours

Tony: What?

Peter: That bag's been there for 4 hours now

Tony: ...so move it

Peter: But it's a suspicious unattended bag

Tony: Most bags are

Peter: What if it's a bomb?

Tony: How would a bomb get past my security?

Peter: I got past your security

Tony: I have Friday ignore the crazy crap you're bringing into my building

Peter: I mean last night when I went on patrol and didn't tell you then came back at 2am

Tony: ...

Peter: DAMN IT

[lucky-bucky-boy]

Restless Night

Pairing: MCU!Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: An impulsive phone call leads to a happy ending

Word Count: 1307

Warnings: Slight angst, smut, pet names, little to no (y/n), mentions of missions, lemme know if i missed anything  

A/N: MCU!Peter - I do plan to write something for TASM!Peter in the future but this was just easier for my brain to set up the scene. I wanted to do something different and challenged myself to write something that was more dialogue-heavy than I’ve written in a while. Not my best work, but a little smutty smut bc why not

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed and highly appreciated!

The soft sound of the television playing a forgotten movie almost drowned out the sound of the phone ringing, tucked under a pillow and muffled. The sweet cusp of sleep was only moments away, being dragged out by the vibrating as the first call ended and a second came through. 

The near unconsciousness caused forethought to be left behind, grabbing the phone, answering the call, and putting it to your ear. A soft "hello?" was all you could muster. 

"Hey, baby."

A tsunami of emotions flooded through your body, suddenly wide awake and hyper aware of everything that was going on; The television was nearing the end of the movie you had put on, your clock reading 1:32, the lights from the cars passing by casting various dancing shadows around your room.  

"I've missed you, baby." 

His voice was sweet, almost addictive and something you hadn't realized was a need buried deep inside you. You shuffled, forcing yourself up and sitting against the squishmallow he'd won for you on your first time, something you hadn't been able to get rid of. 

"Hi, Peter," you voice was quiet, sleep still etched between the syllables. There was a beat of silence between the two of you, "Peter, why'd you call? It's been 10 months."

Peter let out a soft sigh, you could hear him shuffling around. "Missing you really bad tonight, love. M' on a mission," there was another sigh, "I almost got hurt, like really hurt. Thankfully Bucky was there. All I could think about was you."

"Peter!" You voice was now much louder, instantly filled with worry, "Don't go and get yourself ki-"

He cut you off, "I wasn't tryna get hurt, baby. We got ambushed. We had just went in there for me to copy some information onto a drive. Ended up being some rogue Hydra agents, a leg of them we didn't even know existed." Peter was rambling and he knew it, he was starting to think the reason he called was a bad one. 

You sighed, body riddled with a million different emotions, "Pete, why'd you call me?"

"I miss you," his words had a slight whine to them, "I wanna touch you so badly, wanna hold you and kiss you."

If he was there you would have undoubtedly melted into him. The breakup was mutual, but difficult nonetheless. Between trying to focus on your career and all of the responsibilities Peter had, it was near impossible to maintain a relationship - there was no time for date nights or dinner, no time to sit and reminisce and talk about the future. For months, the only time spent together was sleeping in the same bed, which was almost always disrupted by some responsibility. 

You two loved each other, loved each other more than yourselves most days. But it had become too taxing and tiring, the constant worrying, near lack of support because attention was needed elsewhere. So, after a long, tearful date night gone wrong, the two of you agreed to break up, maybe try again when there were less things counting on you both. 

Peter regretted it immediately, but he had wanted to give you space, give you time to flourish and not worry about him. He'd asked M.J. and Ned all the time what you had been up to, he would check your Instagram and Snapchat to see the things you were posting and proud of. He did whatever he could to support you from afar. 

But tonight, tonight he dared to be selfish, he needed to be selfish. Deep down he knew it was wrong, calling you up in the middle of the night because the adrenaline was still pumping through his veins and all he wanted was to be with you. 

"I miss you too, Pete." Your voice was soft again, it always was in moments like this. Where the intimacy lay just behind every fiber in your body. 

He hummed, starting to get antsy as he continued to try to figure out how to say what he wanted. "Baby, can you do me a favor?"

"What is it, Pete?" You almost hated how quickly you answered, how eager you were. 

"Touch yourself, sweetheart. I wanna hear you touch yourself."

The gasp that left you was audible. Peter was never incredibly bold, never the type to initiate unless you two were definitely alone. Even in those moments, it was always sweet and loving. But this, Peter calling in the middle of the night, a desperate whine to his words and an insane neediness that make his tone demanding. 

“Baby, if you don’t want to, you can just hang up. I won’t be upset with you.” You could hear some ruffling and the sound of metal hitting the floor. “I just miss the pretty sounds you make, miss the way your face scrunches up, miss the feeling of your skin against mine.”

This wasn’t a command you were going to disobey. He was still rambling, your mind only half paying attention to the honey-like words he was saying. “Do you want me to use my hand or one of my toys?”

He paused for a moment and you could practically hear the smile spread across his lips. “Use your hand, sweetheart. Run you hands across your body like I would.”

You could hear the moment Peter wrapped his hand around himself, a small groan leaving his lips. You listened to him, it being nearly impossible not to. "Wish you were here, Petey," the words slipped out of you as your fingers danced across your skin, sending goosebumps in their wake. 

Your eyes were pinched shut, listening to every whimper and sigh the came through your phone, doing your best to pretend your own touch was his. "Me too, God, me too. Miss kissing your skin, hearing your little gasps when I nip."

"Peter," you couldn't help but whimper, forgoing anymore teasing and quickly giving your clit the much needed attention. It never took long with Peter for you to become needy and impatient, let alone when it had been almost a year since you heard the noises he was making, "I'm not gonna last long, want you so badly," your words were gasped out between soft moans, instant pleasure radiating from your core already making your body warm.

"Me neither, baby," there was a low groan that slipped from him, strangled as he attempted to hold himself together. With every sound you made, he nearly felt like he was in a dream. But he knew this was real, his subconscious hyper aware of the thin walls in the shitty hotel he was holed up in for the night and the super soldier who undoubtedly could hear him. 

A endless stream of "fuck"s, gasps, moans, and whimpers flooded through each phone. It only took a few more minutes before the coil burst and the warmth of your high shook through your body, thighs quaking and chest heaving. Peter followed suit, a breathy moan of your name as he spilled into his hand and all over his abdomen. 

There was a lingering silence as the  other of you recovered, both taking in what has just happened while relishing in the aftermath. Peter broke the silence first, "Need to get m'self cleaned up," he mumbled. There was another beat of silence from him, "I do really miss you."

You hummed your agreement, shifting yourself into a more comfortable position. "I do really wish you were here." 

He huffed out a small laugh, a sound that was laced with relief and contentedness. "I'll be home tomorrow at 4. I still got my key, I'll bring dinner, and we can talk. How does that sound?"

Now it was your turn to laugh, excitement filling every nerve in your body. "It sounds like a date."

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

COMING SOON!!!

Mob!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Ballerina Reader

(I do my best to be as non-descriptive as possible, but I do use she / her and mention that reader is a ballerina)

Inspired by the question: Have you ever tried to eat at a restaurant, which happened to be a mafia / mob front, but you didn’t know that, and everyone inside just stared as you walked in because nobody actually eats there?

I FINALLY decided what I want my first piece back to be and I’m so excited shdiznejfns it’s very funny if I do say so myself. Once I got the idea I rushed and typed it on my phone and I already KNOW there are so many spelling errors because I have auto correct turned off and right now it looks like shit hahdndisfn. BUUUUT I just need to give it a quick read through / fix errors on my laptop and we’ll be good to go! Full preview below the cut :)

It had been Bucky’s idea to name the restaurant Tony’s. After their dear friend who had given his life in a war that should’ve never been fought.

It had been Peter’s idea to ‘open a restaurant’. He pointed out that it would be the perfect realistic cover, though Steve argued that they didn’t really need one. Everyone in Brooklyn and the neighboring cities knew who they were, why did they need to put up any sort of front?

In the end, Bucky sided with Peter. They needed a place to talk shop and handle business, and it had to be somewhere that the outside wouldn’t attract any trouble (aka law enforcement). A warehouse was too obvious and was practically begging to be raided. He agreed with Steve, though, in that everyone knew who they were and what their business really was. He pointed out that it was actually a good thing. It would be pretty obvious that the restaurant wasn’t a restaurant, and they wouldn’t attract actual customers. But they’d make it legit, so that they couldn’t be shut down. Like Peter said, they needed a realistic cover.

Within a month, Tony’s was up and running. Running, as in the lights were on during what would be deemed normal business hours. The door was kept locked, but that didn’t matter because as Bucky predicted, no one tried to actually eat there.

Until one day when rehearsal ran nearly 2 hours late. You were tired, exhausted mentally and physically, and you just wanted some comfort food before heading back to your apartment to enjoy the next 2 days off. Still somewhat new to the city, you decided to get off of the subway one stop earlier, and find a restaurant on your way home.

Luckily for you, a neon sign reading TONY’S caught your eye. Unbeknownst to you, there was a meeting going on inside, and someone had forgotten to lock the front entrance.

As you pushed the door open, you had no idea the events that were about to unfold.

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE TAGGED WHEN I POST FOR BUCKY, LET ME KNOW!!

[bitchyycapricorn]

Warm Shower and Soft Kisses

Peter Parker x Reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 1.3k

Synopsis: Peter takes care of you after you after you disappear for a week.

Warnings: Fluff!!, hurt/comfort, Peter taking care of his girl, Shower with Peter, technical nudity but no smut or descriptions.

AN: Can be imagined as any Peter, gif is just tasm. Lightly edited. Also I’m currently working on two requests so stay tuned <3

A chilly breeze rushes through your room, waking you from your slumber. Your eyes flutter open and lock on your open window that’s letting in the cold November breeze. “Fuck,” you mumble as you bury yourself deeper into your duvet, far too lazy to get up and actually shut the window. You’ve been like this for almost a week now, a lethargic shell of your former self hiding in your room away from the problems of the word.

You haven’t been up more than 10 times since it all started. You refuse to move unless you have to go to the bathroom, and even then you do that begrudgingly. On top of your refusal to move unless absolutely necessary, you find yourself calling out of work most days, unable to handle the thought of dealing with people. You’re also skipping classes and ignoring everyone’s attempts to contact you.

Your biggest issue at the current moment is Peter Parker, your boyfriend. He stops by your place at least twice a day since you disappearance. Your parents always sending him away per your request. You felt horrible for pushing Peter away, but you felt so sick and the thought of being with another person exhausts you. Your whole body was aching just from you laying silently below your covers after all.

Your quiet day comes to an end just as quickly as it starts when you hear Peter slipping through your window. “Y/N?” He whispers, approaching your shaking body that’s huddled under a pile of blankets. “Baby, what’s going on? Are you sick?” You feel him peeling the blankets off you, revealing just how horrible you look. Your eyes have heavy eye bag’s despite you sleeping most of your days, and it’s clear you haven’t showered since your disappearance.

When you look up you’re met with a face of concern. “Hi,” you say meekly. Your voice feels scratchy in your throat as you speak for the first time in a few days.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Peter presses the back of his hand to your forehead. “Sweetheart…”

You give Peter a small smile before feeling suddenly embarrassed, you can’t even remember at this point the last time you brushed your teeth. A frown settles on your face as you look up at Peter once more. “I haven’t been feeling like myself lately.” You whisper.

Peter frowns, stroking your cheek. “I can help you get a shower if you’d like baby?” You nod slowly, grateful for your boyfriends offer. You place your hand in his and allow him to lift you up and out of bed. You latch onto Peters arm the moment you stand up. It’s abundantly clear just how shaky your legs feel due to the lack of use.

Peter guides your wobbling body into your bathroom, turning on the lights and fan in the process. The bright lights are overwhelming as you sit on the bathroom sink, watching as Peter starts the shower for you. “Come on pretty girl, let’s get you cleaned up.” Peter smiles as he gently kisses your cheek.

You watch as Peter strips out of his clothes before helping you out of your own. The cool air sends a shiver down your spine. You take a moment to enjoy being out of your dirty cloths as Peter leads you under the warm water.

“Better?” He asks as he gently massages your scalp while placing kisses all over your face.

“Much,” you sigh, allowing your body to relax under his touch. You wait patiently as Peter lathers up his hands with Shampoo, just wanting to feel his hands in your hair again.

“Shall we get your hair washed m’lady?” Peters asks, not really waiting for a response since his fingers are already tangling in your hair before he finishes his sentence. You let out a small moan at the sensation of his fingers giving your scalp a deep massage. Every muscle in your body seems to let go in that moment, putting you into a state of calm.

Peter pulls away from your hair momentarily, lathering conditioner onto his hands before returning to your hair. “Thank you Peter,” you whisper softly, getting on your tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Anything for my girl,” he smiles.

You allow yourself to soak up the sensation of being clean along with Peters gentle hands slowly rubbing the soap bar all over your body.

“You look so pretty right now, I hope you know that.” Peter coos, also enjoying the feeling of his hands gently lathering soap into your plush skin. He’s been worrying sick about you for essentially the last week. Since you didn’t return a single phone call and when he knocks on the door your mom always tells him you aren’t feeling well.

You’ve been on Peters mind since the day of your mini disappearance, making him feel sick and lonely without you at night. He was missing the sound of your voice, the way you giggle and laugh, your bright smile and witty jokes. He was missing every inch of you, and now that you’re finally back in his arms he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle having to go home again.

You were both so caught up in one another’s presence you only notice how long it’s been when the water starts to get cold. You both let out a small laugh, rinsing off before hopping out of the shower.

Peter helps to dry your shivering body, hoping to warm you up as quick as possible. You aid Peter in drying off as well, wanting to help him like he’s been helping you.

Peter ruffles your hair in the towel before wrapping it around you once again and making his way to your sink to grab a toothbrush. He quickly gets some toothpaste and wets the brush, helping to ease it in your mouth.

He didn’t question why you haven’t showered it brushed your teeth, rather he just silently helps you do so, sprinkling words of encouragement along the way. “You’re doing great sweetheart, you have such a pretty smile you know.” Peter says as he continues to help you brush your teeth.

Despite your exhaustion you find the energy to throw your arms around Peter, toothbrush still sticking out of your mouth. He lets out a small laugh, hugging you back and kissing all over your face.

“Come on, let’s finish brushing your teeth so I can kiss your pretty lips,” Peter urges, as he helps you finish up. Once your teeth are clean Peter makes sure to press five kisses to your lips immediately, savoring the feeling of your lips on his.

“I should probably get dressed before we keep kissing,” you tease, starting to feel like yourself again.

“Mhm, how about some warm fuzzy pajamas?” Peter offers as he leads you over to the closet. He shuffle through some options before setting on your red t-shirt and short pajama set. “This one’s my favorite on you, and I know you’ve said it’s the most comfortable.” Peter smiles as he helps you into your cloths. He shuffles through some of the cloths he left at your place, throwing on a pair of boxers before leading you over to your bed.

“Peter?” You whisper, looking up at your boyfriend as you sit on your bed.

“Yes baby?” He hums, placing a kiss to your forehead.

“Can you cuddle me? Please?” You beg, craving Peters soft touch once again.

“Anything for you love, come on, crawl under the covers.” He replies as he helps you situate. He slowly pulls the covers up and around you both, holding you in his arms tightly.

“I love you Peter,” you say softly, feeling your eyes grow heavy once more.

“I love you too Y/N,” Peter hums, kissing your forehead one last time before you fall into a deep slumber.

+++

TAGLIST

[alloftheimaginesblog]

webcam {peter parker}

inspired by a post by @dailyau

We're the only two with our cameras on on this Zoom call and you are so pretty AU

character: peter parker x female reader

For college, you had enrolled in an extra advanced bioscience course, it helped to get your grade up and it was only two hours a week. It was a Saturday morning so it took up a small part of your weekend but it covered 10% of your overall grade so you were happy to do so. It was a lot of just listening to the tutor explain things and the PowerPoints were always sent to you afterwards so all you had to do was show face and you could catch up on the reading at a later date.

You were sitting at your desk trying your best to look interested as the tutor droned on and on. You noticed that you and one other person had your cameras on, aside from the lecturer. His name was Peter, you read off his screen. He looked to be around your age and looked as interested in the course as you did. He was tapping his pencil against his lip as his other hang ran through his hair. He was quite handsome, you thought before shaking yourself out of thoughts about boys and tried once more to concentrate...

It wasn't long before your eyes wandered back to the mysterious Peter.

Peter Parker sat with his eyes glued to the screen trying to look interested but all he could focus on was you. You weren't doing the same course and he'd not seen you around campus so he could only assume you went to a different college too. You were... gorgeous. He couldn't concentrate on anything but the grainy image of you with your hair in a messy bun and the way your nose scrunched in concentration.

He cleared his throat, rubbing a tired hand over his face as he tried to stop staring at you. He grabbed his latest spider trinket and began to fiddle with it but it didn't take long before his eyes found their way back to you. You were sipping some coffee was it? Tea? He wondered if you liked coffee, what kind of coffee was your favourite? A latte? Black? Maybe he could take you out for coffee.

Feeling a little brave, Peter moved his mouse so that the cursor hovered over your video. "(y/n)..." He murmured softly, "pretty." His eyes darted to the mute button just making sure he was definitely muted before he right clicked on your video. A list of options appeared and Peter selected Send Message.

For about ten minutes, he typed, deleted and retyped a message over and over again. Peter never did anything like this, he wasn't usually so brave or so bold but maybe it was the coffee he'd downed at 8am but he was sending you something, he just wasn't sure what. Eventually he settled for something and with a deep breath he hit Send.

Peter Parker: @(yourname) hi so this is random and hopefully not weird but it's just me and you with webcams on and i just want to tell you that you are so unbelievably pretty. I'm Peter. Peter Parker by the way.

He waited with baited breath and could see the moment you read the message as a wide smile crept onto your face and your hand pressed against your face bashfully. He grinned.

"Mr Parker," the lecturer's voice sounded, breaking his happiness, "I appreciate that you this Miss (Y/L/N) is unbelievably pretty but please send her these messages using the private function. Right click and select Send Private Message... And do it out with my lesson. Thank you."

Peter's face fell and his cheeks immediately turned bright red, "Oh, fuck!" He hissed as he scrambled up to sit up straighter in his seat. Quickly he hit the unmute button, "I am so, so sorry!" He panicked, "I-I'm sorry!"

The lecturer rolled their eyes but the hint of a smile was on his face as he continued.

Messages pinged in which made Peter hide his head in his hands.

Helen L.: lmao cringe parker

John P: he's right, she's pretty

Sheryl M: i'd die if that happened to me smh

Jadyn A: yo pete sorry that happened my guy

Peter spared a glance at the screen to see that you were fanning at your face, you must've been rather embarrassed by that all too. Peter debated whether or not to send you an apology message, he hadn't meant to put you in the centre of attention like that but a minute later, a message dinged from you.

(y/n): This is how you send private messages, dummy.

Peter: im so fucking embarrassed im so sorry

(y/n): Don't be, most exciting thing to happen today. A cute boy calls me pretty? As Charlie Sheen once said... winning.

Peter laughed.

Peter: I meant it. You are seriously the prettiest girl I've ever seen.

(y/n): thank you peter parker. what college are you at

Peter: ESU, you?

(y/n): NYU. You near Brooklyn?

Peter: Queens so yeah decently close, why?

(y/n): well you can't embarrass me like that in front of the whole class and not take me for lunch or coffee or something right? ;)

Peter: seriously? i'd love to! when suits cause i would love to take you out if youre serious

(y/n): here's my number, text me and we can figure it out

Peter: Amazing! I'll text you as soon as this lesson wraps up

He was smiling like an idiot but he noticed that you were too. The last twenty minutes of the lecture dragged in, his foot tapped impatiently on the floor, he was itching to text you, itching to get to know the pretty girl behind the camera. And as soon as the lecturer said goodbye, Peter left the zoom call and grabbed his phone to text you. He hadn't felt this good about something - someone - in a long time so why would he wait? Why not dive in head first?

[deathbyathousandspiders]

“ cuddle–bugs. „

(( request PART TWO )).

!!! read part one | part three | part four | part five here !!!

mcu!peter parker x reader.

IN WHICH — you fell asleep on your best friend’s shoulder during movie night and the avengers won’t let you live it down.

author’s note ; okay so i made this a winter/christmas fic on accident cause i miss it. you’re welcome:,) ALSO !! lmk if y’all want me to add you to the part 3 tag list;)

✨masterlist✨.

3.2k.

It’d been two nights, and you still couldn’t boggle the thought of Peter from your brain. Well, boggle the romantic thought of Peter from your brain. You had always been extra thoughtful and considerate of your best friend, but you never realized just how much you were until two nights ago. Two nights ago, when you had the best sleep of your life, passed out on Peter’s shoulder. Two nights ago, before Sam and Bucky started ogling you and Peter like no one’s business. Two nights ago, the last time you got a successful wink of sleep.

Shit.

Perhaps you were lying to yourself– No. You were definitely lying to yourself. Peter Parker was your best friend, but you knew that your feelings for him were far from that simple. You were the first one to notice when he entered a room, and the first to feel his absence when he’d leave. You knew him better than anyone else did; he was written in a language that you’d carefully taken the time to understand. You just hoped that he’d taken the time to understand you just the same way.

The thought was gnawing at you, feeding on the anxiety that had kept you up all night. There was no way you could act on this, nor express your thoughts to him. And there certainly was no damn fucking way in hell you could look him in the eyes while you tried to process your feelings.

As the sun rose, so did you. Seeing as you had barely slept an hour, starting your day as early as possible seemed like your best option — even if that meant peeling yourself from your bed at four in the morning.

Your breath visibly filled the passing air as you ran the outdoor track in the courtyard. Winter’s chill was spiteful at such an early hour, but it was just the medicine you needed to give you energy after an all–nighter. The wind welcomed you with a sharp bite along your exposed skin, which was mainly your cheeks whilst you ran. Steve had taught you a thing or two about going on runs, and covering up in the winter was one of them.

The day went on tediously; constantly training, working on paperwork, and avoiding the company of Peter Parker. The latter was the most difficult. He was your best friend for crying out loud. You still couldn’t shake your nerves, or stomach the embarrassment that your teammates would cause you from their teases. There were already too many close calls.

While you were practicing close–hand combat in the gym, Bucky approached you. At first, he criticized your form and shadowed you for critique, but after a few minutes of ice breaking, he was quick to give some snickers and googly–eyes.

“Hang on there, cowboy.” He started, right hand hovering just beside your wrist. “You need to hold your shoulders back so that your punch gives a harder blow..” That’s when the devious smirk shadowed his face. “Unless, you’re planning to tussle with your boyfriend.”

The sharp breath you exhaled in response was a lot more intense than you’d initially intended. “He’s not my boyfriend!” The tone of voice you gave was also more intense than you intended, especially as you unconsciously gritted your teeth. And gathered from the way Bucky’s eyes widened at your punch, you took it that the impact was, once again, more intense than you’d intended.

You blamed the sleep depravity.

Later on, post–shower, you went to the kitchen to grab your second energy drink of the day. You felt your shoulders ease and your eyelids grow a bit heavier as you popped the metal can open. The quiet simmer of the carbonation was melodic whilst you downed half the serving, on spot. You were so focused on obtaining the beverage that you nearly missed Natasha looming in the corner.

“Cute sweatshirt.” She chimed, arms crossed while she watched you from the furthest crevasse of the kitchen.

Eying her, you could see the silhouette of her smirk. It immediately sent you questioning why she looked at you so smug. Your gaze fell to which baggy sweatshirt you decided to wear, suddenly insecure about it. It was a Midtown marching band hoodie; royal blue, faded–vintage yellow writings. It took you a beat or two to remember where you got it, but when you did–

“Is it your boyfriend’s?”

Shit.

Frustration bubbled through your system. Except, it wasn’t frustration towards the team. It was frustration towards yourself. How much of a coward did you have to be to act so nervous? To not be able to look Peter in the eye? To avoid any entertainment of the thought of the two of you together?

Well, if ignoring those thoughts made you a coward, perhaps you weren’t the biggest one. Most nights, when you couldn’t sleep, you used the image of his torso spooning yours to get you some peace of mind. The warmth of his arm hugging your waist, the slight tickle of his breath on the back of your neck, and the safety of his little kisses hidden in your hairline. In fact, you thought about it most times; however, last night, thinking about it made you feel unbelievably guilty.

You found that guilt and sleep don’t mix too well.

Hours later, you sat yourself in the meeting room, hacking away as best as you could at your training reports for the day. The task was stupid, but you were understanding of it. It just didn’t help that you felt the weight of only sleeping an hour creeping up on you. Your eyes felt like they carried a thousand pounds to them.

A gentle knock met the doorframe, catching your attention from your assignment. Your eyes met Wanda’s, curiously. The curiosity fled your expression the split second she opened her mouth.

“Peter’s looking for you. Should I tell him–”

Annoyance scrunched in your nose, and an anguished huff pushed itself out of your throat. Your elbows met the table quietly, hands rushing to cradle your face in it as you tried to keep your composure. “He’s not my boyfriend!” You cried.

Still, Wanda held patience to herself. Now she was the one who looked at you curiously, arching a brow as she noticed how troubled you were. You already knew she was reading you like a book with her telepathy. Wanda had already flipped through your thoughts front and back by the time you’d finished your response. “I know. He’s your best friend, and he’s looking for you.” Her voice was so gentle, you wanted it to swaddle you and lull you to sleep.

Just before she took her leave, Wanda kept a sympathetic smile on her face. She’d already started to step out of sight, but she had a closing thought. “And, y’know.. I felt the same way you do now with Vis.” She hummed, “The only way to relieve yourself from it is to talk to him.”

Which brought you here. Now. At eleven twenty–three in the evening. You sat yourself on the same couch that started this spiral, chipping away tirelessly at the paperwork you vowed to finish. Though, your progress consisted of staring at the document blankly. You were closer to passing out than you were to actually typing out a sentence.

“You should get some sleep.”

The second you met Peter’s eyes, you felt it immediately. That zing. That spark. The knot in your stomach that guilted you for avoiding him all day. You couldn’t even muster out a response to give to him. Part of that definitely had to do with the fact that he was in his pajamas; flannel pajama pants, and no shirt. It wasn’t the first time you saw him shirtless, though the sight of his abs, especially right now, took your breath away a little.

His palms pressed against the head of the chair, leaning on it as he rocked back and forth on his feet. His brows slowly knit together the longer it took you to reply, obviously worried about you. “Are you not speaking to me? Did I do something?” The second question was quick to follow the first.

Your expression mirrored his, though with less worry and more defense. “What? No.” You stated, shutting your laptop without breaking eye contact. “Why would you think you did something wrong?” It churned your tummy to think that he’d been overthinking about this all day. Then again, if you were in his shoes, you’d have been thinking the exact same things.

It wasn’t hard to notice the relief that settled his posture, or the hesitance that lingered in his stare. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe you, it was more that he wasn’t sure he could yet. “Because this is the longest you’ve gone without speaking to me since fifth grade.”

The urge to roll your eyes at him was strong, but the smile you had to fight off was more distracting. “Peter, I didn’t speak to you because I had laryngitis. I literally couldn’t!”

He smiled back at you, gesturing his hand towards you to emphasize his point. “Exactly!” Peter made his way around the chair, seating himself beside you on the couch. “I just got worried.” He made sure there was enough space between the two of you, nervous that you’d be upset if he sat too close. “Are you okay though? You look like you didn’t get any sleep.” And suddenly, you were reminded that you couldn’t hide from him like you wanted to.

You nearly forgot that Peter was your best friend. He studied you before you even had the chance to notice he was in the room, half the time. Wanda’s words bounced around in your brain, but the idea of communicating all of that right now made your stomach churn worse. Slowly shaking your head, you moved to set your laptop on the coffee table beside you, quick to turn your attention back to the boy beside you. “I, uh.. I’m just stressed, is all.” You shrugged, simplifying your emotions.

Peter’s stare narrowed at you, concerned. “Stressed about what?” Once again, his eyes scanned over your face, trying to find the answer he was looking for before you felt the need to say it. When he found how panic it brought you, he stopped. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

It felt like a weight lifted from your shoulders at how understanding Peter was. You smiled lightly at him, focus flickering between one of his eyes to the other. Maybe it was because a smile began to touch his lips too, or because you felt unbelievably seen by him, but your heart swelled more than it ever had before. “I’d rather not talk about it right now.” You answered, honestly. “I should get some sleep first. I’m just��”

As you trailed off, Peter picked up the sentence where you couldn’t finish it. “Nervous about sleep?” His voice got softer as he asked the question, smile growing when you nodded in agreement. He waited a moment, brewing a few different solutions in his head. “Can I help?”

You could feel the way your heart raced at Peter’s earnesty, happily realizing you couldn’t turn down the offer. Nodding, you eyed him closely, watching as he grinned at you. He grabbed a throw blanket from beneath the coffee table, and the remote for the flat–screen while he was at it. Peter turned the television on and sat back on the couch, extending his arm for you to lean on him.

“You sure you want me to cuddle with you? You’re shirtless.” You pointed out, verbally self–sabotaging yourself. Idiotically self–sabotaging yourself.

Peter raised a brow at you, laughing quietly. Though, there was a slight blush creeping along his cheekbones. “That hasn’t stopped you in the past.”

A small fit of laughter drove your decision as you laid yourself beside him; head cozy in his shoulder, and your body pressed against the side of his. He laid the blanket over the two of you, but the arm he had hugging around you was the most securing. His fingertips gently brushed tiny shapes into your forearm, and Peter knew exactly which movie to put on to whisk you off to slumber.

Watching your comfort movie was quite a tempting offer, but you still couldn’t stop your eyes from shutting. Peace overtook you before you could catch it, and you couldn’t exactly remember the moment sleep finally conquered you. The last thing you remember hearing was Peter’s faint whisper to ask FRIDAY to dim the lights.

Peter watched you sleep more than the movie. He couldn’t stop himself, seeing how cute you were. He found himself in the same spot he was just two nights ago; gently rubbing your shoulders and back, brushing the hair back that fell into your face, and listening to the stilling sound of your breath as it slowed with your slumber. It made his heart swell.

The second he knew you were passed out, he stealthily turned the television off and scooped you into his arms. Peter lifted you delicately, swaddling you in the blanket and carrying you off to your bedroom.

As he laid you down on your bed, a particular piece of room decor caught his eye; the newest addition, something he’d never seen before. His cheeks grew ablaze with pink at the framed photo on your nightstand, taking in every aspect of the picture. His heart raced, a dorky grin touching his lips when he finally read Sam’s sticky note.

Peter was pulled from his thoughts at the feeling of your gentle fingertips grasping his arm. He heard the sheets settle beneath your stirring, and the soft grumbles sifting through your lips. Feeling your hand grasp at his elbow and tug him towards you made his heart skip a beat. The hug you pulled him into was all he needed to know that you wanted him to stay. And that, he did.

He lost track of how long he’d slept for, or when you decided to get up without waking him, but he wasn’t mad about it. Peter had one of the best sleeps of his life, and he had you to thank for that. He had you to thank for everything

Peter had never woken up feeling so rejuvenated. He felt like a brand new person; alive, ravished, loved. He felt validated by Sam’s little sticky note, and finally connected the pieces on why you were so jittery around him. He’d seen you interact with a handful of people you’d found attractive, and now he understood that he was also in that category. At least, if his assumptions were correct. He at least had woken up with a fresh coat of confidence today to make him believe his assumptions.

It was routine for his thoughts to drift somewhere in the midst of you. Every sense of him found you intoxicating and now more than ever did he cherish it. He inhaled the lingering aroma of you left over from your sleeping figure, and grew a smile at the sound of your laughter that carried itself through the compound’s corridors. The same laugh that he’d heard all too often.

Wait.

You usually only laughed that hard at his jokes.

Peter slowed his slippered–steps toward the kitchen, peering his focus to where the sweet sound came from. His heart swelled in his chest at the sight of you so happy, but immediately dropped to the floor when he saw you so happy with a guy. A vaguely familiar guy. A strikingly too attractive guy. It sent a sharp chill through his bloodstream and made it boil beneath his skin.

“A little birdy told me that Harley’s been meaning to ask them out before he leaves.” Sam’s voice cut through the quiet, though he made a means that the information didn’t leave the kitchen. His voice stayed soft, secretive.

Harley. Harley Keener. That’s why his name was so familiar. The Harley Keener: Tony Stark’s protégé intern, who’s attending Stanford for mechanical engineering, and skyrocketing as one of the most influential teenagers of this generation for his work on climate change. Peter recalled the six three articles he’d read just last week on Harley’s work. What was he doing here? And what the fuck was he doing here talking to you?

Peter’s focus remained stuck on the sight of you and Harley talking down the hall. The second his gears finally processed what Sam had told him, he turned his head to look over, eyes landing last on Sam by the espresso machine. “What do you mean?”

Sam shrugged lightly, his lips pressing into a line as he stirred the sugar in with his coffee. “I heard that while he’s here on break, he’s planning to ask Y/N out.” He let the sentence fall from his mouth with a sigh, disappointment tracing the sound of his voice. “Sources say, he’s planning to pop the question before Hanukkah starts.”

It hit him like bricks, the urgency. The punch to the gut. The confidence Peter had woken up with withered somewhere he couldn’t grasp anymore. He glanced out of the windows behind him, watching the snowfall cover the courtyard. Hanukkah was in four days. Peter still had some time, but would it be enough?

“Wait.” He started, turning his attention back to Sam. “What source?” Peter walked into the kitchen, placing his hands on his bare hips. He was still in his pajamas, messy hair and shirtless torso. His outfit merely consisted of flannel pajama pants and dinosaur slippers. “Were you using your mini drone to eavesdrop again?”

Sam chuckled, trying hard to act like he wasn’t offended. “I’m going to pretend that you didn’t call Redwing that.” He acted like his remote control helicopter actually had a name. “But no. My source’s name happens to rhyme with boney shark.”

Shit.

If Tony really said that, it meant that Harley was actually serious about this. The Avengers were definitely prone to tease, but they were far from the crowd who’d start rumors. The bitter taste of jealousy weighed on Peter’s tongue, and he could already feel the sickening aftertaste caking in the back of his throat. He swallowed, thicker than he had in what felt like a decade. It felt like he had forced down an entire jar of peanut butter.

Sam saw the way Peter froze in his tracks. He walked over, steps slow to prevent spilling any of his precious latte from its mug. He gently placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, turning his attention to where Peter’s naturally gravitated back to; the way you and Harley interacted definitely seemed intimidating, but Sam wasn’t going to let Peter give up that easily.

“Another little birdy told me that boney shark hopes you beat him to it.” Sam’s voice suddenly got smoother, lower, as though his words had a deeper meaning. And to Peter, they did. The boy seemed to lighten up, processing Sam’s words like they were prophetic. “And that birdy’s name rhymes with shmaptain shmerica.”

Sam took that as his cue to leave, knowing that he said what he needed to. Quite frankly, he said more than enough to shake Peter out of his doubtful thoughts. There was no way in hell that Sam Wilson was a liar, which only added to how true the statement was.

If Steve–liberty–and–justice–for–all–Rogers was in on this, that meant something truly powerful. It meant that his team was rooting for him. Knowing that may not have given Peter’s confidence back to him, but it gave him something even more important. Something that grounded him back to the present unlike anything else, and something that he’d never take for granted:

Hope.

[equalheart]

his hoodie

𓆩♡𓆪 — tasm!peter x gn!reader (but could also be any peter!), fluff (like ew cutesy type of fluff), established relationship, kinda suggestive-y joke?

“Are you really wearing my hoodie right now?” Peter can’t hold back his smile when you come down the stairs. You’re wearing his zip up with some shorts, and one of your t-shirts underneath—something so simple yet he can’t stop staring. “Yeah, is there a problem?”

He chuckles at your teasing tone. “No.. no problem at all. I really like it” he stutters over himself while wrapping one arm around your waist, and you don’t hesitate to put your arms around his broad shoulders. “I really like it too.” you smile as he leans into a kiss, smiling inbetween.

He hums “you should wear my clothes more often, you look great.” You pull entirely off of him. “I don’t look great always?” You fake a scoff and turn around. “Hey, hey, woah. We both know you look great always. Maybe my clothes make you look extra great. Seeing you in them makes me feel great.” You turn, notice a tint to his cheeks and he grabs your waist again. Your hands sit on his chest.

“Let me make you feel extra great.” You mutter on his lips, leaning into another kiss.

[bi-disaster-yn]

Tread Carefully

Pairing: neighbour!Peter Parker x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is used to being led on and then let down in love which leads to her not quite believing just how much Peter likes her.

Set after the events in No Way Home! As always, Peter is aged up to be in his early-mid twenties.

A/N: This one goes out to the all the girls who have been made to feel crazy when they’ve been led on by someone who suddenly loses interest. You are valid and you deserve so much better (and someone like Peter in this fic <3)!!

Feedback & reblogs are always appreciated <3

Whilst others seem to fall into love quite easily, for you it was always like trying to catch fire in a jar. Never successful, getting burned in the process and eventually the jar melting with all the exposure to further render your attempts useless.

Such carelessness with your emotions had led you to a solitary existence. The mere suggestion of reciprocated feelings had made you strategic and forceful, putting pressure on every encounter with a prospective lover in hopes that one day you might secure love.

Naturally, the pressure would snap any cord of bond you might have with someone and there you were, left again without any recourse. A scorned woman.

This wasn’t always your fault. Often, you’d bestow your emotions upon someone unworthy. Gaslighted with a promise of something real, you’d pursue these people only to be bitterly disappointed with a frank conversation where they confessed that you were great but all the same, not good enough.

Enter Peter Parker, your sweet neighbour who moved in next door a few months ago and brought with him a little spark that had you giddy.

The day he had moved in, he just seemed so out of his depth and alone. With the door open, he’d stood in the middle of his apartment looking round at the admittedly small number of boxes he had. Nevertheless, he looked entirely overwhelmed and frozen, struggling to even take the first step to open any of them.

You’d just finished grocery shopping as you walked past, peering in quickly when you came across the open door. From where you were standing, viewing his slumped shoulders and helpless face, it looked like he was going to cry. He looked so lost and you were sure that your help was exactly what he needed.

So, you came to the rescue. Announcing your presence, you offered your help which he reluctantly accepted. One by one, you worked your way through the boxes and worked together to set out his things the way he’d like them. At first, he was wary of you but grew more comfortable as you took things at his pace, never pressuring or hastening him.

You cooked him dinner, noting that his fridge hadn’t been stocked up yet. He asked you for coffee the next day as a thank you.

Coffee dates became dinner dates which naturally slipped into taking turns to make dinner for each other every night. He was so convenient being next door and had explained being new to the area that he had no one else really. Naturally, he gradually began to intertwine himself within your plans until you had become inseparable. Not that you minded, you hadn’t been this infatuated in a long time.

You did everything “right”.

You nurtured your feelings, trying to keep them on a leash to prevent them leaping out of control. You were calm and collected around him, allowing yourself to freak out about him after you said goodbye for the night. You made allowances for him in your plans yet didn’t hedge your bets on having to actually plan around him.

Yet, you still expected him to let you down. Some dark, twisted and nasty corner of your brain still told you that you were holding on to false hope. You had let people in before only to have them ridicule you for ever thinking that something could happen. For all you knew, Peter could be - and probably was - just the same as the rest of them.

Although, surprisingly, he hadn’t let you down to date. He always turned up on time when he said he would, except for that one rare exception that he had to cancel. Even at that, he was following up with you to reschedule and even planned and paid for the whole date because he felt so bad about having to miss your plans.

He let you touch him and he allowed himself to touch you. When your thighs lingered as you sat next to each other, he didn’t move away or sit in clear discomfort. Contentedly, he’d continue his story while you sat, completely mesmerised by the fact he’d allowed you a crumb of intimacy with just a simple gesture.

When this inevitably went downhill, it was going to kill you.

***

Winter had taken over the city. The restaurants and shops below your apartment had started to decorate their storefronts with festive lights which teamed up with the streetlights to create a cosy light in a cruelly cold and dark night.

It was Peter’s turn to cook that night. He stood at the stove making mac and cheese in plaid pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt that although oversized, still managed to show his muscular shoulders.

You sat on his couch flicking through Netflix to find a suitable Christmas movie for your night in. As the snow began to fall outside, you wrapped the blanket round you tighter and excited yourself with the idea of cuddling up to Peter to keep warm. Peter hummed as he plated up the food; it was his Aunt May’s recipe and he’d raved about it for weeks, insisting he would make it for you.

You tried not to read into the fact he was letting you into something he’d shared with his aunt who had been more like his mother. Nor did you read into the fact that the blanket wrapped round you was one you hadn’t been able to stop touching in the store because of how soft it was. He’d bought it so he could see the big grin on your face as you smoothed your hands down it.

“You really love that thing, don’t you?” Peter commented with a sweet smile as he handed you the plate.

“It’s just so soft! How did they make it so soft?” You beamed in response.

“I don’t know, but you look really cute with it wrapped round you.” He smiled, facing the TV and taking a bite before saying the all too familiar yet equally dreadful sentence.

“I think we should talk.”

It was so out of left field and so unexpected. The horrible yet familiar feeling of dread sat deep in your stomach and destroyed your earlier appetite for a home cooked meal. Setting your plate down, you took a deep breath in anticipation of what he was going to say next. You had to give it to him, ending this over his beloved aunt’s recipe was a new low in your experience of rejections.

“Sure.” Was the only response you could muster without it sounding like you were dying inside at the very notion Peter could end all of this.

“Well, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now, right?”

Oh God. This really was it. Now was the time for the usual chat. He’d come out with some drawl about how even though you had spent every day together, ate together, slept together, treated each other like boyfriend and girlfriend, that it was of course, casual and you were irrational to think anything different. In the heat of the moment, frenzied by embarrassment, you’d agree and tell him you’d even prefer to be friends. Then over the coming months, the dejection would slowly eat away at you as you’d overanalyse the memories and consider what you should have looked for to ascertain that this would never be a serious relationship. Good enough for a fling, but not quite enough for a substantive commitment.

It was going to be a long and lonely winter.

“Yeah, two and a half months to be exact.” You stated, as if for a court record to build your case on just how much of your time he had wasted before he was about to throw this genuine and beautiful connection away. Peter merely chuckled at your matter-of-fact manner, oblivious to your serious tone.

“Well, I was wondering if you’d like to be my girlfriend?” He asked nervously, watching you with a hopeful smile.

Admittedly, your reaction was in fact, irrational.

“Sorry, WHAT?!” You yelled back, so taken aback by the question. It was what you wanted to hear but not at all what you expected.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Peter tried to explain, clearly self-conscious by his choice of timing and now considering what seemed to be a real possibility of you rejecting him. “I just thought that I really love what we have and I wanted to make it official but if you feel differently then-“

You cut him off before he could go any further by lunging over and wrapping your arms round his neck tightly. You held him like he would disappear if you let go. The longer you held on, the more tangible his question became and the more likely you were being validated that this whole thing wasn’t just a one-sided and bittersweet liaison, doomed to fail from the beginning.

Peter chuckled, managing to set his plate down on the coffee table, despite you clinging on to him like a koala. He settled back against the couch, rubbing his hand up and down your back soothingly while you sat still, completely incapable of letting go.

“So… is that a yes?” Peter asked with slight concern in his voice as he tried to measure how long you had been silent for.

“Of course, it’s a yes! I thought you were going to end this!” You confessed. Peter frowned at your response, unsure where you could ever have gotten that idea from. He had tried so hard to not be one of those asshole guys and not lead you on. He started to question whether he should have done anything differently.

“Why would you think that?” His question came with a sweet kiss to your temple. Despite you holding him hostage with a cuddle, he seemed quite content.

The heat of embarrassment claimed your cheeks causing you to nuzzle your face into his neck. This should have been a really happy and carefree moment between you both, and hopefully the beginning of many years together. Yet, your insecurities and past emotional injuries had tainted this.

Perhaps, sharing your intense fear and feelings was going to be too much for Peter. Still, if he was going to be in a relationship with you, he ought to know the truth.

“I just…” You began, sitting back to look him in the eye. “I just never get asked that question.”  

Peter looked at you with a mixture of surprise and sadness. His eyebrows furrowed in contemplation and he let out a silent “oh”. At first, you thought he was pitying you but then you came to realise that he was just appreciating how big of a deal this was for you.

“I always seem to be the practise run or the casual fling. I never seem to be enough to be the girlfriend. You know?” At this, Peter nodded silently and reached his hand out for you to hold which you gladly took.

“And with you, I’ve been trying so hard not to get overexcited or put too much pressure on you but I really like you, Peter! I’ve been terrified that you’ve wanted to end this for a while now.” You explained further, watching him get confused.

“What did I do that made you think that?” Peter mumbled, his own fears and guilt setting into him. He had been trying so hard to let people in and to think that he was potentially failing was more than a tough pill to swallow.

“Nothing.” You said simply, because it was the truth. He had done nothing wrong.

“It’s just, I let you into my apartment, which was supposed to be just mine. I talked to you about Aunt May, which was really hard for me but I trusted you with it. I… I fell asleep on you. I felt safe enough with you to sleep soundly. I just don’t think I could have done anymore to let you know I was interested.”

The lump in Peter’s throat was evident with his words. This poor, sweet boy had no idea that this was so much bigger than him. It was an injury to your very being that had attached itself to you for all time coming. In truth, Peter had opened up to you and had let you in. On the other hand, all of those boys had done the same thing. They fed you with private and emotional insights then cut off the supply when you dared tried to establish a deeper emotional connection. How were you to tell the difference? 

“Sweetheart, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just, not all guys are as genuine as you. They mess with our heads and then call us crazy.” You explained calmly, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing his knuckles lightly. The words took purchase in Peter’s body and he nodded at you, slightly embarrassed.

“I am sorry you’ve been through that. I just really liked you and wanted to let you in. I have meant it all and I’d really like for you to be my girlfriend.” He smiled, reaching his other hand out to caress your cheekbone. An excited and surprise giggle escaped your lips.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Peter.” You leaned in and kissed him deeply, putting your hands on his cheeks. His hands found your waist, pulling you to sit on his lap. You gladly obliged, not once breaking the kiss. It wasn’t catching fire in a jar. Rather, it was gathering water that easily streamed into the jar – filling it up and adapting to the shape of its keeper without any threat of burning or melting; secured simply with a screw top lid. It was different, fresh and easy.

“Okay,” Peter chuckled as he finally pulled away from the kiss. “Can you please let me know if I made a good job of dinner?”

“Sure thing, boyfriend.” You grinned, giving his lips one last peck before leaning back and retrieving your neglected plate from the table. It was starting to get cold but that didn’t matter. You were going to give it a glowing review anyway.

You draped the blanket over the two of you and cuddled into him, no longer afraid to show him just how keen you were. He hummed happily at this, turning to gently kiss your temple. Your mind and body relaxed, content in the knowledge that you need not tread carefully around your Peter.

Finally, someone genuine.

[fr3akho3]

Stuck in a sticky situation

Kinktober day 1: Tied up

Warnings: Tied up, use of nickname ‘Drac’ ‘Draculara’ ‘Princess’, Boyfriend! Peter Parker, Established relationship, Fem! Upset! Reader, slight angst, fluff at the end, after care, slut calling, praise, SoftDom! Peter Parker, Tied webbed to bed

2.5K words

You were having a hard enough day already, everything was off schedule and you were stressed, you were already 14 minuets late to your boyfriend, Peter Parker's, house, your phone had died, and you were not in the mood for mid-day New York traffic.

After 20 more wonderful minutes of Queens traffic you arrive to his apartment, buzzing him then heading up.

As soon as Peter opens the door to you, you collapse in to his warm arms, a comforting smell of cinnamon that he knew you liked so much filling your nostrils.

"You miss me, Drac?" He laughs out, stroking gently on the back of your head. You only let out a quick nod, not caring to step out of the doorway. "You tired, bad day?" You nod softly, a tear trickling down your cheek, the familiar lump in your throat bobbing back up. "Let's go to my room, Draculara, yeah?"

You both lay on Peter's bed, not saying anything, just holding one another peacefully, softly kissing every once in a while.

"You want anything to eat? I can't cook or bake but I own an air fryer? I'm sure I can make something you'd like in there?" Peter says; gently sitting up and placing your head comfortably on his thighs, stroking your soft hair, feeling fuzzy against his callous finger tips.

"Oh my god, dude, you know what would be so good right now? Fuckin' crinkle cut fries, they’re so good, you should make us some," You say smiling happily. "Please, Peter?" You beg happily, to your boyfriend's dismay he gets up and heads to his kitchen but not without turning around and lifting you out of his bed, he places an arm around you, walking you and himself to the kitchen, he pulls out a chair for you and goes to his freezer, getting the fries out as you pull your phone out.

"Drac? Who you texting?" He says; a tinge of jealousy pangs in his voice along with curiosity, as he goes on his toes to try and see.

"No one, i'm putting music on, Pete." You say, smiling as you hear the jealousy in his voice, knowing you would and could never see another person in the same way you love, or even like, him.

"What song, you thinking, bug?" He smiles at you, his smile lines were your favorite.

"Mm Pretty girls make graves, Love songs on the radio, or Luna?" You ask him looking up from your phone.

"I have no idea what songs those are, so you pick." He says, ogling over you just sitting there.

"Luna's a Smashing Pumpkin songs, and Pretty girls make graves is The Smiths, and then Love songs on the radio's Mojave 3" You state like it was the most common thing on the world.

"I'm sorry, Mojave 3?" He says checking on the fries, making sure they're cooking fine and not burning.

"Yeah, good band, promise."

"Put Love songs on the radio, whatever you pick'll sound good" You put on love songs on the radio, the soft melody filling yours and his eardrums as you stare at each other, content with the love you have for one another.

The fries finish and you sit peacefully with each other, the fries sat and watching from an oval bowl, you've both found your way to Peter's bed, eating and watching Hocus-Pocus on his laptop.

"He's cute," you say not thinking about it about Max from Hocus Pocus

"No he's not, he's probably ugly and old now." Peter says getting defensive which gets you smiling

"Peter, I think your beautiful."

"You do, Drac? You promise?" He says looking away, he's aware it's corny and sappy but he doesn't ignore his feelings.

"Yeah...I do, promise." You say softly, kiss between his forehead and hairline.

Peter kisses your lips softly, devouring your saliva like it was The Body of Christ, worshipping your every movement.

Those few kisses lead to you straddling his lap, he kisses your forehead as you go for his neck and collarbone, leaving small bites and hickeys all over.

"You know...May's working a 10 hour shift...we have a lot of time...only if you wanna..." He stuttered through every word, it wouldn't be your first time together intimately and certainly not last, but Peter was always respectful and careful to avoiding breaking boundaries and such.

"Mm a lot of time to do what?" You said intoxicatingly, the way your voice sounded induced him further, the apples of his cheeks growing red.

"You know...get together..." He said shyly; his pale face turning a light pink

"Oh yeah?" You say teasingly, not wanting to let the moment end.

"Yeah..." He says getting red. "Can we try something...new...together?" He suggests rather sheepishly

"Like what?" Yoh look at him with those beautiful eyes he loves so much

"Well it's October, Halloween season, and I have webs..."

"Whatcha suggesting, Pete?" You say brushing your hands through out parts of his hair

"Wanna tie you up...web you to the bed..." he says hiding his face in the crook of your neck

"What? Can't hear you?" You tease him further.

"Wanna tie you up and let me fuck you," he says louder, still hiding his face in your neck, leaving soft kisses.

"Do it then, pussy." You laugh softly out; teasing the poor boy to his wits end.

"Oh yeah? You gonna be a good girl and let me?"

"Please" You say looking into his eyes

"Want me to tie you up and fuck you? Yeah? Oh yeah?" He whispers; hesitating to go on

"Fuck, yeah, Pete. I need you" you breathe out, staring at him from on top of his lap.

He slides his shirt off, taking your shirt off of you as well, leaving you in only a bra. He lifts you off his lap and puts you sat back on his bed, elbows propped up beneath you. He soon slides down your pants revealing underwear.

"You look perfect, you know that? Gonna take such good care of you" He says grabbing the Vaseline from his bedside table, rubbing it softly on your wrists.

He gets up and grabs his web shooters you whimper as both your hands are webbed to his bed frame

He's careful to pull your bra above your soft and tender boobs carefully. He takes his callus hands spreading one knee to the side then soon the other, he smiles up at you at your slick spreads with your folds.

He massages around your nipples as you whimper, he brushes your cheek with his other hand, inserting his finger inside, stretching you with your slick

"That feel good ,baby, tell me when you want me, okay?"

"O-okay! I want you now, please! I need you, Parker" you beg, vulnerably.

"I'm gonna put it in, alright?" He says softly; pushing your hair out of your face as you nod rapidly.

He's hardened dick slowly teases your entrance, making sure to go slow not wanting to harm you. He's cold hands grabbing onto your hips, his palms cupping your ass and back of your thighs, while his thumb strokes the inside of your thighs, holding them apart.

His tip enters, he pulls in and out a few times trying to feel you out; leaving you whimpering for more.

He's soft to make sure he isn't hurting you; wanting your pleasure as much as his.

He goes all the way in, earning a grown from both of you. His moan was long and relieving.

“Parker, please, start moving.” You beg, your legs crossed around his hips, your hands gripping at the webbing.

“Be patient, Draculara, s’gonna take good care of you, yeah? You gonna be my good girl?” He teases, slowly moving his hips in and out. “Look at You? My pretty girl, all spread for me, all naked, tied up. Fuck I need you”

He pulls all the way out and slams back in, letting out a lewd moan, you whimper as your knees clamp against his waist.

“Fuck! Parker! Please, go harder, please baby?” You squirm and he lightly pinches at your nipple, caressing the other between his hand

“No, keep ‘em open for me, princess, or I swear I’ll stop.” He goes all the way out, leaving his tip in as he slams his hips in and out. “Yeah? You good princess- ah- fuck- you see how hard I am for you? Fuck- y-you see how my cock fucks you?” His hands Go to your waist, moving you up and down on his cock as he goes in and out.

“Fuck! Parker! Please, I’m begging you! Fuck me harder! Please Parker! Fuck- I need you- I want everyone to know I’m yours and I need you so badly, please, baby?” You beg, trying to move your hands; he lets out a chuckle watching you suffer as one finger goes to your clit and the other on your waist.

“I know, Princess, your doing so good for me, yeah? Just keep going for me, your gonna feel so much pleasure, s’yeah?” He goes faster, the lewd sounds of his moans filling the room, as you bite at your cheek, concealing the sounds of your loud moans.

“You feel so good in me- babe- babe! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, please! I- I- I- need you, please baby” you beg your knees clenching together, Peter looks down at you as he stops.

“What’d I say Princess? Spread ‘em Draculara. Maybe I’ll eat you out later if your good, okay? C’mon Princess be a good girl for me and spread ‘em legs?” He’s careful to not mess up your hair as he strokes your cheek

“I-I’m sorry, please, Peter, keep going?” You smile at him as he begins rubbing your clit, ghosting on top of it.

“I’m gonna start going, yeah?” He’s quick to put his cock back in, going slow at first, before putting it all in you, he quickly pulls out leaving just the tip before slamming all of him back in, not giving you time to adjust before fucking you faster then ever, while rubbing your clit with his callus fingers.

“You want it? Mm- yeah princess? You’ll have it. All of it, fuck- all of me. Oh- oh- fuck- mm” deep inhales leave his body, you hear his heavy breathing, his hand leaving your waist and going to your stomach, pressing down to see how far he is, making you go crazy

“Fuck, I love all of you in me, you’re so good to be, Parker, wanna see you cum, wanna see you cum in me, please- Fuck! I- I- I can take it, all of you. I promise.” You whimper out, your back arching forward as your squirm and yell out sinful moans.

“Mm- fuck- Drac- your driving me fuckin crazy- I’m so close- I’m so close- oh- oh- oh! Yeah! Fuck! I love you- princess fuck! Oh yeah? You really love me? Yeah? You gonna let me fuck you? Oh princess…oh fuck, oh what did I do to- ah- deserve this pretty pussy! Mm- please!” He goes faster, you can see this thigh muscles flexing , his cock twitching inside you with every movement.

“Oh- oh- oh! Please! F-fuck! Fuck me! Parker, please, I’m so in love with you, I’m so so in love with you. I need you! I need more of you! I need more of you in me!” You beg as you grind for any friction left.

“Drac- f-fuck! Your tiddies s’beautiful. Wanna suck on ‘em, can I? Please, oh- oh! Please baby let me suck on ‘em while I fuck you and hear your pretty m-moans?” He leans down and takes your boob in his mouth, swirling the warmth of his tongue on your erect nipple.

“Parker! Wanna cum with you! Please let me cum with you! P-please, oh! Oh! F-fuck, oh…oh…you’re so good to me, baby!” You whimper out grasping the webs as your hips lift off the bed.

“Princess- oh Drac! O-oh! Fuck- s’you…you slut…you are just so desperate for me, aren’t ya? You love this cock hard and deep in you? Look at you, didn’t even b-bother! F-fuck-to take your bra off fully, what kind of slut- oh- fuck! Can’t even wait to take her bra off!” He slams deeper within you, hitting the spongey spot that makes you feel so good, he goes up from your chest and leaves hickeys on your collar and moans into your mouth.

He slams his hips, bruising his bones at your entrance. He knows he’s close and he’s hoping you are too. He needs you to cum around his hard and veiny cock.

“F-fuck, my beautiful, smart girl, I’m so in- l-love with you babe! Fuck, can I cum in your pretty pussy, Drac? Pretty please, babe?” He begs with his brown doe eyes.

You don’t stop him, your mouth left agape from everything, his hands on your clit, one on your waist, his mouth against your neck. Soon the feeling of him warm, gooey, seamen fills you and he fucks it into you, it all becomes to much, his screams and yours fill the room.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Don’t stop! Fuck me! Please! I’m cumming! I’m cumming! I’m cumming! Please, Parker! I love you!” You screams, your out of breathe and sweaty as his pace slows down, he kisses your cheek before slowly pulling out, being careful at his tip.

“S’You did so good for me, yeah? So good my princess. Was I Good for you?” He asks, kissing you and getting up, graving a warm wash cloth and wiping his cum out of you, careful to not hurt your tender cunt.

“Thank you, baby. You did so good, I love you.” He kisses you again. He gets an anti-web fluid and sprays it on your wrist, kissing them as he gets your wrists out.

“Wanna shower then cuddle? I wanna get you cleaned up, Drac” he says, rubbing Vaseline over the places where the webs had left purple and red. “S’My pretty pretty girl.”

“Yeah, shower then cuddle sounds good, thank you baby.” He sure you up and kisses your nipples then you, carrying you bridal to the bathroom, where you two were sure to have more fun.

Authors note: how we feeling about my first kinktober?

Tag-list:

@thedevax @tpaints @parkersmjs @eefeefeefeef12345 @whenisthefall @andr3wgarfieldsupremacist @blossoming-cee @d3adp00ls @aliengirl99 @just-levyy @nixxaswrld @mentallysickphysicallythicc @isretroavibe @olivezgalore @jakobsdump @crypticbutterfly5 @practicallylivesonline @did-someone-change-my-name @80pairsofcrocs

Comment to be added (will be posting tomorrows teaser shortly)

[wreckmyimage]

NEVER BEEN WORSE! / PETER PARKER

♪ DELICATE, TAYLOR SWIFT / MARVEL MASTERLIST / MASTERLIST

pairings. mcu! peter parker x reader

warnings. mentions of wounds idk

summary. peter isn’t so good at keeping secrets from you.

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Peter Parker was not good at secrets, but he was good at hiding his web slinging identity didn’t he?

Or so he thought.

He had no idea you have known about his secret identity for weeks. Every time he had shown up to class, he had an extra bruise under his eye. He just blamed it on him being clumsy, which you believed for a while.

That’s until Peter showed up one day with cuts allover his face, your suspicions started to increase.

Then you caught onto his act. Why was his skin all scraped and bloody all the time? Every time you guys had plans did he ended up making some lame excuse. You thought he wanted nothing to do with you, you thought he didn’t want to he your friend anymore.

But you connected the dots, him acting suspicious and sneaking off, whenever you went over to his Aunt Mays he was never there. Both him and Ned acting weird whenever you walk over to them mid conversation, it made so much sense.

Currently you were in your room, at your desk with Peter next to you, you were both studying for a test in a few but if you were being completely honest you weren’t studying at all, you were clicking your pen constantly which raised Peter’s suspicion.

“You okay?” He asks, eyeing you carefully.

You don’t reply, but you drop your pen onto your desk and spin your chair round to look at him. “Were ever going to tell me?” You question.

“…Tell you what?”

You lean closer to him, to whisper so your parents didn’t overhear your conversation. “That you’re Spider-Man.”

Peter started stuttering at your words, “What? I’m not Spider-Man, what makes you think that?”

“The sneaking off, the bruises, the cuts and scratches you always have on your cheekbones. I notice every detail about you, even if it’s the tiniest thing.” You confess, your eyes never leaving his.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to get hurt, I don’t want anything happening to you if I told you.” He apologises, running his hands through his hair as he stands up, you following after him.

You hesitate for a moment before placing your hands on both of his cheeks, Peter’s hands going to your shoulders. “The only thing thats hurting me is you keeping secrets from me.”

“I’m sor—” You shake your head, stopping him from apologising.

“Don’t apologise.”

“Sor- I almost done it there again.” He laughs making you join him. Too caught up in the moment you both never realised how closer to eachother you got. You could feel his breath on your face making your face flush the colour of his Spider-Man suit.

“Can I—” You never let him finish his sentence again, nodding quickly.

Peter captures your lips with his, you swore you felt a surge of electric glide from his mouth into yours. Its slow, but passionate. He’s patient with you, one of his hands moving to your waist and one of your hands moving to his neck.

You both pulled apart catching your breath as you leaned your forehead against his, making him wince.

You panic slightly, “Whats wrong?”

You move the hair from his forehead, seeing a purple bruise on his forehead. “It’s okay.” He tries to assure you.

You kiss the part of the temple where he had the bruise, making him smile at you. It’s like his pain went away.

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#NOTES even she (me) was weirded tf out 😭😭😭😭😭 / not proof read i’m 2 tired to read over it , it is 4:30 am

[frankoceanluvrr]

𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑

pairing : fem!reader x peter parker

warnings : arguing, angst, swearing, insults, being harsh, english isn’t my first language, urdu is! so please tell me about grammatical errors like spelling and punctuation as those i struggle with! plz lmk if u feel as if there are anymore i should list :)

summary : first argument as a couple, heavily inspired by the infamous amy march line, “you’re being mean.”

a/n : you can imagine any peter for this btw! it’s not specifically mcu peter, im just using this gif for reference !

“Peter, are you okay?” Your voice quiet, looking at the boy.

Peter was sat on the end of your bed, fingers pinching the top of his nose in annoyance. It was one of those months where everything felt as if it were going wrong. It was overwhelming. He felt trapped. Scared. He attempted to slow his breathing pattern down as he thought of what to say to you. You had invited him in, and he barely said a word. You could tell something had been wrong this month, so you had been trying your best to cheer him up, but nothing seemed to work.

“Do I look okay to you? God, use your fucking brain for once [Name].” He eventually huffed out, still looking down and not really processing what he said.

You took a deep breath, you didn’t want to fight him. In an attempt to be mature, you disregarded the whole comment as a whole.

“Will you just tell me what happened?” You sighed, trying your hardest to stay calm.

“I just- you wouldn’t understand. You don’t have responsibilities like me, don’t act like you have any idea of what it’s like either.” He spat, eventually looking up to see your whole body tense up, “you’ve been nothing but a burden, [Name]. All these ‘attempts’ to help me wont do anything except waste your time.”

“What is wrong with you?” You quickly replied, throwing all attempts to be mature out the window, “A burden? A burden who’s opened her door for you every single time you’ve been like this? Or how about the multiple occasions ‘the burden’ dropped everything to help you everytime you asked? I’m so so sorry I cared, Peter. Would you have rathered to suffer alone?”

You were fighting back tears, you began to look up and fold your lips ever so slightly.

“Oh? You’re the one who comes to my rescue? You have got to be kidding me [Name], you seriously did not just say that,” He chuckled, but it was purely bitter, “I have to look out for you constantly because you don’t know any better. You always need reassurance. It’s such an inconvenience for me. At least my problems when I come to you are actually worth something, yours are always something so minor you stress about like crazy. Don’t get me started—”

“Stop it, you’re being mean.” You breathed, meeting his hard gaze with your tearful one, “I never knew you saw me as an inconvenience.”

“No, no- I’m sorry—”

“Please leave.” You wiped a tear coming from your eye, passing him his bag.

“[Name], I got carried away, I’m so sorry. I was just, frustrated I didn’t mean anything I said” He pleaded, sincerity riddled through his tone.

“I know, but please leave.”

And with that, he left.

[louwaffles]

Y/N: So, I have this really cool idea--

Bucky: No.

Y/N: You haven’t even heard the first part.

Bucky: For the love of--

Sam: It’s a really cool idea, James--

Bucky: I swear to the god of Thunder--

Thor: Yes?

Y/N, Sam, Bucky:

[astxroiid]

peter parker as written by astro

"Look, when you can do the things that I can, but you don't, and then bad things happen, they happen because of you."

✷ requests taken for: tasm! peter parker, mcu! peter parker, and comic! peter parker.

series:

spiderhead // mcu!peter // spiderwoman!reader --- coming soon

✷ [based on spiderhead by cage the elephant] loving peter, hating Spiderman, being left for dead, and impossible secrets. Also the damn Lizard.

empire state of mind // tasm!peter 4.1k wc

✷ when you're long-time crush comes up to you, asking you out - you say yes right? But what happens if he misses the date? Also, what happens if you ask him on another date?

one shots:

queen sized bed // mcu!peter (nsfw/18+) 2.7k wc

✷ [based on a little death by the neighbourhood] after an avengers-level mission, you and peter find yourselves in a motel room with one bed and an ache between your thighs.

blurbs:

love stuff // mcu!peter (nsfw/18+)

✷ you take peter to his very first sex store.

Requests for Peter Parker are currently open, please check other characters before requesting them.

Reminder: likes are appreciated but comments and reblogs are the desire. Remember they do more for authors and tumblrs than a like ever could.

[moritashie]

I HAVE A FIC IDEA vol #5

• Tony and Peter start spending some time together after the events of Homecoming. Sometimes Tony would invite Peter over to the compound to tinker in the lab, other times he would join Spider-Man on some mission a little over the teen's level.

∘ While these meetings become something more frequent, they always end up doing something that requires his influence, is connected with a lot of public, his status as a superhero etc.

• Gradually, Tony finds himself spending more and more time checking in on the kid, whether it is through the baby monitor protocol, talking with May or the kid himself.

∘ Rhodey points that fact out one time they decide to have a drink at a bar together, joking about Tony becoming quite parental when it comes to Peter, and that leads Tony to the realization that he does in fact view Peter as his kid.

∘ At the same time he realizes that Peter must feel nowhere near the way he does. To the hero-worshipping kid he must only the "OMG it's freaking Ironman!", and he figures out that he is quite bothered by that fact. He has to change it.

• Tony devises a special plan to do as many awesome (read: fatherly) things with Peter as possible, to distance himself from the media image of Tony Stark.

FOR EXAMPLE (but doesn't have to be any of these)

∘ Building a tree-house together

∘ Teaching Peter how to make Italian pasta

∘ Going camping with him and Rhodey

∘ Organizing a Movie night with snacks

∘ Telling Peter some more casual/wild stories from his youth, (ones that Peter could relate to)

[cypherverze]

i want to be with you everywhere

a tom holland imagine

PAIRINGS: tom holland x female!reader , tom holland x singer!reader , tom holland x famous!singer

SUMMARY: After being on hiatus for five years, you had managed to complete a whole new album for your comeback and announcing your upcoming tour in the process, as well as having Tom supporting you all the way.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i offer you this tom imagine for the meantime. this imagine had been inspired by hayley william’s cover of ‘everywhere’ during the parahoy event back in 2018! also, i’ve been listening religiously to fleetwood mac. enjoy! (NOT PROOF READ!)

REMINDER: this is purely fiction, this is a product of the author’s (me) imagination. this work is originally written by me, do not in any way repost or copy my work. i write for self indulgence, if you don’t like my works, then don’t read it.

WORD COUNT: 1,757

WARNINGS: nothing, just some fluff. casually reiterating—poor attempt on fluff :D

Your comeback album had taken the world by storm, since you decided to drop it when the world wasn’t anticipating it. Everyone didn’t know that throughout your hiatus, you’re working on your new album because you have been so quiet, especially on your social media platforms. So when you decided to drop it out of nowhere, everyone—especially your fans are in shambles. To add fuel to the fire, right after dropping your comeback album, you had also announced your tour for the new album. Despite the shock that you gave your fans, they were really excited for your comeback and had managed to sold out your concerts in record speed.

Fast forward to your first night of concert, which is being held in Atlanta, Georgia. The air inside the stadium was palpable, it was packed with cheering and screaming fans, everyone had been buzzing with anticipation. You had been performing for almost an hour now, and there’s only one song left in your set list before you conclude your first night of tour.

“Okay,” Your fans cheered very loudly and you smiled at them, “This is the last song for the night. This is actually my first time singing this song.” The fans are pumping in excitement.

“While I was on my hiatus, I was staying in Nevada, working on my album, and I’ve been listening to a lot of songs from my favorite artist of all time, so you can say that I’m binge listening to them. This one song, I religiously listen to it wherever and whenever—in the car, when I cook in the kitchen. You know.” You giggled, “This is the song that had really inspired me in writing the album, especially the sound and vibe of it was inspired by this song. Also, this is the song that I wish I had written.” Everyone laughed and cheered.

“Alright! This will be the last song tonight, it is a song that is a perfect ending to a perfect night. If you know the lyrics to this song, feel free to singalong with me.” You smiled widely as your fans kept on cheering loudly, “This is ‘Everywhere’ by Fleetwood Mac.” The cheering had intensified, that’s when you knew that you have a lot of fans that loves Fleetwood Mac.

“Again, thank you so much for your never ending support. I hope that you had a blast joining me on my first concert after five years, thank you and good night!”

There was a surge of energy when the first few notes of the song had began playing, you looked around the stadium, making eye contact with each and everyone of your fans and smiling directly at them, noticing them. Suddenly, you felt your heart race as you scan the crowd further, hoping to see the one person that you wanted to see the most. Then, there you saw your boyfriend, Tom, seated amongst the crowd with his best friend Harrison, and brothers Harry and Sam. Both of you locked eyes and you smiled at each other softly and you began singing the song.

Can you hear me calling, out your name?

You know that I’m falling and I don’t lnow what to say.

I’ll speak a little louder, I’ll even shout.

You know that I’m proud and I can’t get the words out.

You and Tom been dating for almost a year now, and things between the two of you were going incredibly great, and you couldn’t ask for more. Tom was constantly on the go with his acting career, you don’t mind about it, he always make sure to make time for you despite his busy schedule—so that’s why you had decided to hold your first concert in Atlanta, Georgia. Tom is currently in Atlanta shooting a movie for marvel, so you decided to hold your first concert there because ever since he found out that you’ll start touring, Tom had expressed that he won’t be able to attend because it was also the same time as his movie shooting, and you know how badly he wanted to attent your concert since he’s a very big fan before you got together.

When you told Tom that your first concert will be held in Atlanta, he was over the moon. You told him that his concert tickets are ready, but he declined it, Tom told you that he wants to secure the tickets himself, he also reasoned that he missed fighting with other fans for concert tickets. The moment that Tom was able to secure his desired tickets, he called you immediately, telling you that he’s very excited to see you perform again on the stage in front of everyone and proceed on telling you how much he’s proud of you.

The song may only be a cover, but it holds a special meaning for you. You had secretly dedicated the song to Tom in your heart, hoping that he would understand the message behind the lyrics because the song exactly represents what you had felt when you when met Tom for the first time. The song is also the very perfect song to express your feelings for him.

Oh, I, I want to be with you everywhere.

Oh, I, I want to be with you everywhere.

(Wanna be with you everywhere)

You pointed at Tom, causing him to smile lovingly at you. As the beat played, you did your little dance, which Tom loves the most. It’s one of your little quirks that he finds really endearing.

Something’s happening, happening to me.

My friends say I’m acting peculiarly.

Come on baby, we better make a start.

You better make it soon before you break my heart.

Tom’s expression softened, looking at you softly as he listened to the familiar tune, and you felt a rush of emotion in you as you poured your heart into the song.

Oh, I, I want to be with you everywhere.

Oh, I, I want to be with you everywhere.

(Wanna be with you everywhere)

Can you hear me calling, out your name?

You know that I’m falling and I don’t know what to say.

Come along, baby, we better make a start.

You better make it soon before you break my heart.

The words of the lyrics echoed throughout the whole stadium, and you closed your eyes as you dance to the beat of the song, feeling it. You can’t help but imagine as well that you’re back in your home with Tom, dancing slowly to the song in the kitchen, with dim lights—which you do very often. You poured all your love and passion into the song, anf you felt it resonated with the audience.

When the song ended, the crowd erupted in cheers, screaming, and applause. But your attention remained on Tom—he was standing up, together with his brothers and best friend, cheering loudly for you. You couldn’t help but feel all the love for him, knowing that he’s proud of you. You thanked the crowd again and exited the main stage, heading straight at the backstage.

You were already at your dressing room, resting. You had just cleaned and changed yourself so you’re already fresh and no longer sweaty from the concert. You’re feeling euphoric, so never knew how much you missed performing in front of thousands of people. Now, you can’t help but look forward to your future concerts. You were lounging on your couch, keeping yourself busy as you scroll on your phone, checking for posts from different fans during your concert, liking and retweeting some of the posts.

There was a knock on your dressing room and the door opened, revealing Tom. Your heart skipping a beat as he walked towards you slowly, his eyes beaming with pride and love for you. He put his arms around your waist, his hands rubbing softly on your back, immediately sending a jolt of electricity throughout your body.

“Wow.” He said, his voice soft and sincere, “That was really really incredible. You never cease to amaze me, my love.” You blushed, cheeks beet red.

“Also, Haz, Harry, and Sam extend their congratulations to you for your successful first day of concert.” He added.

The feeling of happiness that you’re feeling right now is immeasurable as you look into Tom’s eyes lovingly. To be honest, you’ve been very nervous about performing the song, because he has no idea at all that you dedicated the cover to him. But seeing his reaction when you performed it, made it all very worth it,

“You know, I dedicated that song cover for you.” You admitted, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment, “It’s my way to let you know how much I love you.” You added, as you gently brush your fingers at his nape.

Tom’s eyes widened in surprise and grinned widely at you. He, then suddenly pulled you into a tight embrace. You felt him leaving trails of soft kisses on your exposed shoulder.

“I love you too, so much.” He whispered softly as his lips brushed against your ear, sending slight shiver over your body, “More than anything in this world.”

He stared lovingly at you, smiling widely, and finally pulling you in for a kiss. You had kissed back with the same intensity, both of you smiling through the kiss. Pulling back softly, looking at you again, Tom pulled you again for a kiss.

“I want to be everywhere with you as well, darling.” He smiled brightly.

You knew from the beginning you met Tom that you had found someone very special. Someone who loved and supported you no matter what. Both of you left your dressing room and the concert venue, with fingers intertwined with one another, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the love that you share.

Tom is one of the biggest plot twist that had happened during your hiatus, and you have never been happier in life.