#peter 3 x reader

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Rough Waters ~ P.P.

A/n: Added a little bit more than what the request asked for. Hope you like it!

Request: “Tasm!peter x male reader, where Pete and reader been having a rough time in their relationship to where Peter asks if reader wants to break up” by anon

Word Count: 1700+

MASTERLIST

"Where have you been?"

Peter frozen, mask in hand as he heard his partner's voice. He turned slowly - like a teenager caught coming home past curfew. He hesitated, analyzing their expression and body language to try to grasp whether they were anxious or angry. What time was it? He was in costume - they knew exactly where he'd been, which meant the problem was something else. Had he forgotten an anniversary or birthday? A performance? Had he stayed out too late and forgotten to message his boyfriend?

There were too many possibilties.

Y/n was especially hard to read tonight, which meant he was even more upset than usual. Peter braced himself. "Out."

That was not the right thing to say. Y/n's face turned a light shade of red as he tried very hard to keep calm and talk slowly. Calmly. "Okay. I'll give you that one." His eyes dropped to Peter's suit and for a second the most visceral rage crossed his face, before he smoothed it out again and met Peter's eyes. "I'm assuming you forgot then."

Peter shrugged, defensive. Always defensive. "I've got a lot going on Y/n, I forget."

"You forget," Y/n scoffed. The words curled from his lips like they were almost laughable, almost offensive. "I know you forget Peter. You forget, a lot."

He swallowed, wringing his mask. He felt cornered and he never responded well when he felt cornered. "What did I forget? Don't just leave it up in the air."

The calm coming from Peter seemed to make Y/n angrier. "No. I'm not going to remember everything for you. And don't you dare-" He rushed as Peter went to argue again, cutting him off before he could. "-start with me about how busy you are. I know you are busy Peter Benjamin." Ooh, middle name. This was very bad then. "If it was something I at least cared about I'd let it slide. I'm more than used to that. But May?"

His words hurt, but nothing knocked the breath out of his lungs like thinking he'd let May down. "What? Y/n you can't hold this from me, what did I forget?"

Y/n scoffed, turning away and heading further into the apartment. He seemed done with the conversation.

Peter wasn't though. He chased his boyfriend, his own anger growing. This wasn't something they could work through together - May was waiting for something from him. Y/n was holding him back from doing something for his aunt. This wasn't a small thing - this was huge. May didn't know Peter was Spider-Man. Had Y/n given him an excuse again? Was she okay? "Y/n-" He reached out, grabbing his boyfriend's arm in a desperate attempt to get him to stop.

Usually Y/n would pull away from him, spin around and start going off. Reprimand him and tell him everything and then they'd argue and after a while maybe cry and then they'd hold each other because it felt like their relationship was falling through their fingers. They did it every time anything went wrong - it was habit. Easy to play out. Every step was expected. Pre-written.

Except Y/n just stopped walking away. He froze, feet together, still looking away from Peter. It was so unexpected, so cold and far away, that it made Peter panic more than he'd ever panicked in their relationship before. He was stiff solid for a beat before he was falling forward, feet tripping to keep up as he made his way around Y/n. The man's eyes were blank. Empty. There was no anger on his face anymore, just... emptiness. He look exhausted.

"Y/n-" Peter began.

"It was May's birthday."

There was a long silence. It went on maybe even too long as Peter's will to fight suddenly left him. It was immediately gone - like a light switch turned off. He had been forgetful recently, scattered and distant. But.. surely he wouldn't forget that. Not something so important. He'd always rushed to keep himself busy. Work, Spider-Man, relationship. Or... arguing. Fighting. Had that really been every part of his life recently? Sure he did other things -

But, no. He couldn't think of a single other thing he'd done. Sleep, eat, shower, brush teeth, work, Spider-Man, come home and argue. When had arguing become part of the routine? When had the days started to blend together, every single one identical to the last? How had so much time passed without him even realizing it?

How long had they been like this?

He looked at Y/n, a horrible feeling sinking in his skin, settling in his rib cage. An ache. "We're not working anymore, are we?" He knew why Y/n didn't fight this time. Why he'd given up. There was nothing to fight for. Not when all they did was argue.

Y/n didn't even sigh, or shrug. He just sat on the bed. No hands through his hair. He didn't seem angry of frustrated or even sad. Just tired. It was more of an answer than he could have ever given with words. "We haven't worked for a very long time, Peter."

Peter sat on the other side of the bed, mask still in his hands, dangling between his legs. They sat like that for a very long time, backs to each other. It seemed silly, but he had to ask it out loud. "Do you want to break up?" His voice sounded heavy, hollow. It didn't even shock him. He realized it still hurt... but he'd seen this coming for a long time. That was why he was avoiding it, after all. He didn't want to address it. He had always been one to bury his head and pretend nothing was wrong.

This time Y/n did sigh. "Yeah." No argument. No fight. Just one, single word. It was so final, Peter didn't say anything else. He didn't even look up as the weight on the bed lifted and a few sounds here and there began to be made. A zipper, drawers opening and closing, a few doors opening and closing. Until - "You were worth it. In the end. I'm glad we got the time we did." A pause and then, "Peter?" When he didn't say anything, Y/n went silent. Then the bedroom door closed, and the apartment door opened, and then closed again.

The rest of the night was silent.

-

The daycare was loud. Peter was only here because May had asked him for a favor. Her neighbor had been caught up with something and needed someone to pick up her son. The first time had been a few months ago, and he had volunteered to pick the kid up for her as often as he could since then. It helped her out and... and...

Y/n was helping Michael - the child Peter was supposed to pick up - with his jacket. Y/n had kneeled down, and was laughing at some story Michael was telling. He looked breathtaking. All the weight from his shoulders gone, seeming to have slept very well. Brighter than before. He looked up when Peter approached, and not a lick of recognition was in his eyes. Peter thought back to the other world, with the two other Peters and the villains they'd fought together. The spell that would send everyone home and make everyone forget about Peter Parker.

Everyone.

He swallowed, forcing himself to collect himself. Y/n's eyes light up in the way they always did when he was looking at something he found wonderful. Or someone attractive. They'd seen each other from a distance so often. Y/n was usually busy with one of the other kids who favored him, a little girl with green eyes that always begged him to help her get her shoes on. Today she was with one of the other teachers though. Peter tried to dismiss the thought that Y/n might have arranged this on purpose.

"Hey little dude," he greeted Michael first, grinning as the toddler waddled up to him, hands reaching up. Peter scooped him up. Michael launched into a story about play time where they'd pretended to be Spider-Man. Peter felt his heart warm. He'd only been back from the other world for a year - and undoing his tarnished reputation had been hard work. But some people saw the old Spider-Man, and they were slowly opening up to him again. Glad to see him doing better. Some people didn't - but some people never would have in the first place, so he didn't hold it against himself too harshly.

In the middle of the story, Y/n chuckled. "Right?" Michael asked the teacher, as if remembering he was there for the first time. "You got the bad guy!"

Y/n blushed. The way Michael had been telling the story, Peter had assumed the boy had been playing Spider-Man. But, in that moment, it clicked that Y/n had been playing the hero, leaving the mischievous villain to the youth. "Spider-Man always gets the bad guy. That's what heroes do." Peter's breath caught. he hadn't heard Y/n call him a hero in a very long time. His unknowing ex looked over, suddenly sheepish "Sorry, I know- um- not a lot of people approve of Spider-Man. I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay," Peter was quick to reassure. "His mom is a fan of Spider-Man. But even if she wasn't, I wouldn't rat you out." He winked, as if they were conspirators, and he watched Y/n's face turn red. It was so easy to pick up on all their little hints and expressions - they were still so familiar to him. He hadn't forgotten a single detail of them, even after all this time. He had gone to another world, cleaned up his act, and even started therapy.

Maybe a second chance wouldn't be too out of the question. He could do it better this time.

"A trust worthy guy," Y/n mused. "Does he keep his promises?"

Peter thought on it. Y/n had said something similar the first time he had flirted with Peter too. He'd follow it up with, 'maybe you can promise me dinner then?' or something. But it was a real question - one Peter hadn't taken seriously enough the first time it was asked. "I try to."

Y/n's face light up with a smile. "Maybe you could promise we a coffee and if you succeed keeping that one, we can make a few more after that."

It was better than last time, so quickly on a better foot already. Peter smiled. "Yeah. I'd love that."

Y/n had been right the night he'd left. Peter was glad they'd met, and their love was worth all of the mess they'd gone through to experience it. This time, Peter would try harder though. This time it would work. He was sure of it.

-

Male Readers: @ravenpuff-oli @sortzz @fadedver

[backtothefanfiction]

Last Kiss | tasm!peter no way home imagine

Warnings; fluff, grief, one use of Y/N, female reader inset

Word count: probably somewhere around 1k (once again this is a quick one written in app so…)

A/N- didn’t know where this was going when I started it but now we are here. premise is reader didn’t get to say goodbye to Peter in her own world. when she is suddenly pulled across space and time to another dimension, is she finally about to get that last kiss she always wanted.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Peter asks as he begins pulling back the stool on the other side of the table in front of you.

Everything inside you is screaming ‘No, go away, leave me alone’ but instead you give a quiet “Yeah, sure,” because you’d never be that rude.

But it had been a weird 48 hours. Magic, villains from other dimensions, Peter’s from other dimensions, including one particular Peter with fluffy hair and deep brown eyes who looked just like your best friend back home. But it wasn’t him. Would never be him. He was long gone.

“You know, you have been awfully quiet throughout this whole process.” He observes.

You know you have been quiet. You have been very quiet, acting very unlike yourself. You hadn’t had a problem being yourself at all to start with. You had found Peter and his friends very quickly, assisting them with their quest to round up the villains so that they could send you all home. Had made friends with Ned and MJ, acting as a sort of older sister figure to them. But then came the incident at Happy’s apartment. You’d gone to Ned’s house like their Peter had told you to. Then everything changed again. Then came the other Peter’s. The moment he first walked through that portal and pulled his mask off you knew you were in trouble. You needed to keep your distance. Needed to not interact. Not get attached. Pretend it didn’t kill you inside to have those eyes look at you and not know who you are.

“Just… working away.” You say briefly and cheerily trying to make as little eye contact with him as possible.

“You’re shaking.” He observes.

“Yup, right you are again.” You say putting your pen down and breathing deeply, trying to get yourself under control. He didn’t know you. This wasn’t your Peter. He looked like your Peter. Sounded like your Peter. But he wasn’t and in a few hours time when you had all fixed everyone, you would both go back to your respective universes and never see each other again. You’d never see that face again. Or hear that voice. Or…

“Are you okay?”

With your reality fully dawning on you, you decide to be brave. You grab his hand, that had been resting on the desk, get up and begin to pull him out of the classroom and into the corridor.

“Okayy.” He says dragging out the word as you come to a stop, dropping his hand. Your eyes tell him everything and he softens as tears begin to well in your eyes. His head drops to the floor before he gives a muttered, “sorry.”

“He looked like you.” You are finally able to say through the lump in your throat. “My-“ you can’t even say his name, your lips being sucked between your teeth as you try to compose yourself. He waits patiently in front of you, neither stepping forward to touch you or utter a single word, now aware of the impact his mere presence has on you.

After a moment of silence, unsure of what to say or do other than cry you just look at him.

“What do you need from me?” He asks softly.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye.” You say as tears stream down your cheeks.

“Okay, well um… would it help if you said it to me. If you pretended I was him, I mean…” he says flustered, unsure of what to say or do.

It takes you a moment to process his words but you silently nod.

“Okay, uh, okay.” He says suddenly looking around. “Not here.” He says taking your hand and pulling you down the corridor, leading you back up to the roof.

Although he may have not been your Peter, his hand felt familiar. The pressure in which he trapped your fingers with his own, holding you tight and steady as he pulled you out into the night air.

“Okay.” He says as he turns himself to face you. “Umm, whatever you need to say- or do,” he quickly adds, “just pretend I’m him. Okay? Whatever you need, just-“

You kiss him. It surprises him for a second but he soon wraps his arms protectively around you and kisses you back. You breathe him in deeply, as if you’re trying to use all your senses in order to commit this moment to memory.

You break the kiss, keeping your eyes closed as you step further into his arms, you hands rubbing soothingly across his back as you nuzzle your face into his chest. He holds you firmly, his hand smoothing down your hair as he holds your head closely to him. For a moment you almost forget, caught up in the fantasy of being held by your man, one last time. Rewriting that last night in your mind. No argument. No city in need of saving. No giant lizard man. Just another night, stood on the roof with your favourite guy enjoying the view.

“Thank you.” You say, clearing your throat as you finally step back from him.

“Uh, no worries. Anytime.” He offers with a small smile, a tiny blush to his cheeks as he looks at you.

“We should, uh probably go back.” You say awkwardly.

“Eh yes. Yes!.” He says more animated. “We should, uh definitely do that.” He says skipping forward slightly as he moves towards the propped open door, holding it open and ushering you back inside first.

You pause as you take him in once more, “Thank you, Peter.”

He smiles. “Any time, Y/N.”

[lxinesux]

i’m holding my breath for you

Characters: Tasm!Peter Parker

Relationships: Peter Parker/Reader

Summary: Reader regrets her time with Peter and attempts to push him away to get her friendship back. Peter does not take it well. Smut ensues.

Warnings: Blood, Fingering,Loss of Virginity, Floor + Counter Sex, Creampie, mildly dark!Peter, Possessive Sex

A/N: There’s a read more because this gets smuttyish pretty early. love creepy peter, hes just a liddle freak 😭. this is the unexpected second part of a story i posted in june-ish. read the first part here!

It had happened, it was real.

He got to touch the untouchable-make you cry out and cum and squirm. He did that. He had been the first to do that.

He’d wanted to fuck you-either with his fingers or his cock-but you were way too spent. He teased you relentlessly in the shower-chasing water droplets that ran over your body with his mouth, touching you all over, kissing you roughly against the shower wall.

You were irresistible, adorable, as you shied away from him, trying to keep his hands above your waist.

“I don’t think…I can’t…”

You could. You could come again. Over and over and over until you couldn’t stand. But he didn’t want to push you. That had been your first orgasm with another person. Stamina could be worked on later.

You were in your head, too. He could tell. You were never the most talkative but there was something going on between your ears he desperately wanted to know about.

Did you regret it? What happened?

Fuck. Did you not trust him anymore?

Was there a way for him to regain that trust?

-

He corners you in the kitchen, the smallest room in the entire apartment. It was very easy to do, given how small you were in comparison to him.

“We have to talk.”

“About what?” You turn away from him, trying to organize the groceries you bought on your measly paycheck. There wasn’t much, and he could tell you were avoiding him. You could only pick up and put down the same clementine before it became personal.

“About…that.”

“No, we don’t.”

His heart breaks a little.

He thought he’d made his case very clear and apparent.

He was in love with you. Had been for a very long time.

“I haven’t felt the way I do about you since…”

The silence lingers heavily in the kitchen. Your spine is ramrod straight, shoulders tensed. And you’re not looking at him.

Looking like a perfect soldier. Looking like you weren’t human, but a perfect robotic clone. The portrait of frigidity.

His stomach twists. Okay. Alright.

“Forget I said anything. We can just…we can go back to where we were before.”

“Can we?”

The knife between his ribs twists. Wonderful. Great.

“I don’t see why not. We can just..forget this happened.”

“Peter…”

He brushes past you, “Gotta head out.”

“Peter, wait-”

“‘Ts fine. There’s nothing left to say, fresh restart. Factory settings. Just…stop.”

And you do stop. You watch helplessly as he crawls out of the window and into the frigid night air.

-

Peter was avoiding you entirely.

You attempt to wait up for him, now that he’d made a habit of going on patrol without you. But more than once, you would fall asleep.

You found yourself missing him. The smell of his skin, his hair tickling your nose, the feeling of his arms around you while you slept.

The few times you saw each other in the apartment, he was curt if he made conversation at all. Not even a good morning or good night, just ‘hey’ and ‘bye.’

You’d rather be in the basement at Oscorp getting your brain scrambled than deal with this pain.

-

You had gone on your own patrol and had gotten back way past mid morning in an attempt not to run into Peter. You’d changed into your civies and walked through the front door-

There’s a stranger in your apartment.

She must have not seen you or if she’d seen you, she didn’t care. The entire apartment smells like breakfast-smoky and sweet alongside the bitter sting of coffee.

And she’s wearing Peter’s favorite t-shirt.

It’s fucking Lucy. Lucy from fucking accounting. She couldn’t figure out how to use the copy machine. The goddamn copy machine!

And she was in your shared apartment.

She had slept here, had slept in Peter’s bed, your bed.

She fucked your Peter.

The kitchen isn’t that large, the aisle blocking off the living room is short enough that the two of you make eye contact as soon as she turns her head.

“Lucy, I told you to-” Peter’s voice comes from behind you.

“Get the fuck out of our house.”

How dare he. How fucking dare he. Fucking sleep with some random girl beause you wanted space? You wanted his friendship back and he fucks LUCY?

Her lips are parting, like she wants to say something. Her hand is on her hips, like you’re just some girl in competition. Like you didn’t know how to break her neck in a millisecond, like you didn’t have the training to ruin that pretty face.

In an instant, she was an enemy and your programming slams into overdrive. You’re up and over the counter in a millisecond, the t-shirt bunched into your first.

Superhuman strength is a blessing and a curse. You only mean to maybe shove her lightly.

What you do instead is leave a Lucy sized hole in the cheap door to your apartment. She lands at the end of the hall. Every door on the floor is flung open, revealing shock and amused faces alike-all of them turned to you.

-

“You’re so lucky we weren’t evicted,” He sighed, “And that Lucy was only a little bruised.”

A little bruised was an understatement. Lucy has a contusion in her shoulder that’ll take weeks to heal.

You tried not to look too pleased at the news as you helped Peter install the new door.

“She’s lucky she was only bruised,” You breathe through your nose.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Why did you even bring her here? Couldn’t you guys shack up at her place or something?”

“I didn’t think you’d be back before morning.” He actually has the grace to look guilty, maybe a little sad.

“Whatever.”

More silence.

You chew diligently on your bottom lip until he speaks.

“I’m sorry. It’s been weird these past few weeks. I think…I think it’d be best if I moved out?”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, you’re actually comfortable like this? We nearly fuck, we kiss. You mauled my one-night stand! You push me away, you try to reel me back in. Forgive me for getting mixed signals!” His hands move into his hair, running his fingers through it, “I can’t do this anymore, I really can’t! Seeing you, it’s like…it’s fucking torture. I can’t do it.”

“You don’t talk to me for weeks and this is what you have to say!? You think this is easy for me?! God, Peter! I don’t know how to feel about you! I’m a fucking lab experiment gone rogue! I’m barely a person! What part of that screams girlfriend material to you!”

“I’ll let the landlord know I’m getting off the lease. I’ll be out at the end of the month.”

“So that’s it?”

“I can call Stark back, so you aren’t by yourself. I know you hate that. I don’t want you to have to be alone. We just…can’t be alone together. Not like this. Not until I’m over this…”

“Fuck you, Peter Parker.”

The new door slams, the hinges cracking.

-

You’re awake for hours, waiting for him to come home. You smell him before you see him.

Blood. You smell blood, thick and salty, and wrong on Peter.

His suit has been shredded along his abdomen, the blood making the spandex cling to the open wounds.

He nearly falls through the window and you catch him before he hits the floor. Guilt is swift and immediate.

Wordlessly, you help him to the bathroom. He doesn’t fuss, doesn’t put up a fight.

You peel off his suit gently, careful of the-are those claw marks in his chest? Before you can grab the first aid, his fingers are loosely wrapped around your wrist. He pulls you towards him. Pressing you against him, his sweaty bloody body touching your skin. He lets out a tense breath.

“Peter-”

“Just let me hold you. Just for a little bit.”

You can’t say no to him. You let him run his fingers through your hair, rub your back. Gently, you lay your head on his shoulder, trying to be careful of his wounds but selfishly trying to soak up all the emotion and touch you haven’t felt in weeks.

“I’m sorry,” He breathes out after a long stretch of silence.

“I..I’m sorry, too.”

“I kept trying to push you.”

“I was trying to protect you from me.”

He takes your face in his hands. His blood feels tacky on your cheeks. He brings your foreheads together, his breath warm against your lips. You remember what it was like to kiss him. How he’d begged for it, begged for something so simple as that.

The thought makes your body pulse in ways you don’t want to think about. Not right now. His thumb rubs against your cheek, leaving your flesh tingling in its wake.

“I don’t need you to protect me. Let alone protect me from something I want.”

“I told you before, you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

He chuckles weakly before letting you go. You grab the first aid kit out of the medicine cabinet but still feel his eyes tracing along your back. When you turn, he doesn’t shy away from his staring, a goofy smile still plastered on his face.

“I wanna kiss you again.”

“Peter, can you focus?”

“So mean to me,” He pouts when you come near him, “I’m injured and you won’t kiss me better?”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood. Healing factor is making you loopy. Sit up straight, I’m going to disinfect your wounds.”

“Yes ma’am,” In the same scratchy voice that he had when he-

Ugh. You are not thinking about that right now. Even if he’s being too handsy, running his hands over your hips, up your sides. Trying to pull you into his lap.

“I can smell it, ya know? Super senses.”

You want to dose him with the rubbing alcohol bottle just to get him to stop talking. His blood was clotting nicely and you’ve since surmised that most if the blood on him wasn’t him as you feared.

“Smell what?” You dab him gently instead. A tight, clean gauze dressing and the deep marks should go away in a few days. You apply the clean cotton and begin to wrap him up, seconds away from applying skin safe tape.

“When your cunt’s wet, when I turn you on. Like now. Can smell it, always have. That’s how I know you want this too, you’re just scared.”

Your noses touch when you look at him earnestly, “I am scared.”

“I’m scared, too,” His fingers move through your hair, his eyes scan your face, “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t wanna lose your trust.”

It feels good. The silence surrounding you doesn’t feel as oppressive knowing that you’re both in it together. Your eyes close without your permission, lounging once again the comfort of just having Peter touch you again.

“I trust you, Peter.”

You feel his face move further toward you, his lips inches away from yours.

“Say that again,” he whispers breathlessly, “Please, say that again.”

“I trust you.”

-

It was the closest thing to confirmation he was ever going to get, but he’d take it.

His lips press against yours, a soft peck. Another and another until he can feel your body relax. He’s been so starved of you, greed fills him when your lips part. He lifts you up, possessive hands firm on your ass.

God, you were soft. So soft and warm. He wants to devour you, piece by piece.

He puts you on the bathroom counter, your legs hike up over his hips. Your pussy is pressed against the tent in his pants through your thin sleep shorts.

He won’t pull away. His lips leave yours only briefly to catch his breath. Your shaky hands move through his hair and he shutters.

“Missed you so bad,” He whispers, “Missed you so fucking bad.”

His hands move up your shirt, his warm hands traveling up to your bra and then running back down to your thighs.

You whimper, your flesh breaking out in goosebumps. His lips trail pecks from your mouth, across your cheek, and down your neck. The soft noises you make control him. You’ve never experienced pleasure like this and he wanted to be the only one to give it to you.

The only person you’ll ever have. The idea of anyone else seeing you melt like this makes him suck the sensitive skin of your neck between his teeth.

“Peter-“ Slightly desperate. Begging almost.

He pets your hair, “Shh, baby. I’m right here. Do you feel me?”

He pulls your hips tighter to him. Your fingers dig into his shoulders. When you hiss between your teeth, he can feel himself leak precum.

“Y…yeah…” You move minutely against him, “Yeah, feel you. Feels good…”

He kisses you again, just to taste the words. He pulls away just to get your shirt off. New skin for him to put his mouth on. He unhooks your bra easily, how starved he was for your flesh. He mouths along your collarbones, leaving bruises with his mouth that would linger on your skin.

He kisses down your chest. Your nipples are hard and pink and distracting.

“Peter, Peter, I-“

His tongue swirls around a nub, the other is tortured by his fingers. He pulls it away from your flesh. You try to move your chest further into his face. Christ, you’re so fucking adorable. You gasp and writhe.

Fuck, you’re getting so wet too. He can feel it against him, dampening the front of your panties and his Spidey suit.

His cock aches. He needed to be inside you, couldn’t take getting pushed away again. He was going insane. He was going to jump out of his skin if he had to wait any longer.

“Get down.”

“Wha?” Your voice is thick and heavy. Your eyes are glazed over. It’s making it so much worse.

“Get down, lean over the counter.”

For the first time in weeks, you do as you're told. Your panties are around your ankles before you realize it. He spreads your ankles apart.

Your pussy is pink and glistening. His mouth waters while he admires it. You whine.

“Nah baby, don’t be embarrassed. Most perfect thing I have ever seen…” He kisses along your shoulders, down your back.

His hand moves between your thighs, “You’ve never had anything inside this sweet pussy, have you?”

Your cheeks are flushed, “No…”

He smiles, reaching around your front and pressing against your clit.

“Oh my god-“

“Breathe, baby,” He presses the tip of one finger against your opening, “Gonna open you up so I don’t hurt you. It’ll feel good, I promise. Just breathe.”

One finger slides in instantly. In and out, hearing the sound of your soaked cunt. He can see your legs lock at first as you feel the awkward pressure. You relax again when you get accustomed to one finger. Another slides alongside and you keen as the press against that spot inside you.

“Too much…” You whimper.

“Pretty girl, I know you can take more,” His fingers speed up slightly as you leak against him, “Fuck, you’re so tight. Been dreaming about you cumming around my cock…”

Your eyes flutter closed, your mouth opens just slightly. Your hips move back against his fingers. You might be trying to say something, but the only thing Peter can hear is-

“Ah, ah, fuck, please…”

Your face in the mirror is gonna make him lose it. He gently tilts your head back.

“Look at yourself,” He whispers in your ear, eyes locking with yours in the reflection, “Look at what I’m doing to you…”

Another finger, his free hand returns home to your clit. You don’t avert your eyes, even though you really want to. Watching your own skin flush, your pupils unfocuses, your jaw slack.

“‘m so close…so close…”

Embarrassing for you, arousing for him.

He pulls his hands away from you. You whine, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “No!”

You feel the tip of him press against your hole. Protests die in your throat. He’s big. So big, you don’t know if he’ll fit. He might tear you apart. You feel so empty though, open and ready. If he doesn’t do something, your heart is gonna explode in your chest.

You trust him.

He’s trying so hard to be patient. You’re a fucking velvet vice around the head of his cock and he wants to feel you all around him. He pushes in farther, letting out a strained moan.

Your breathing picks up, your eyes squeeze shut. He knows before you say. He can feel your walls pulse, your thighs quivering-

“Cumming, Peter, fuck I’m gonna-“

He nearly finishes right there and then. Your cunt tightens impossibly around him, trying to milk him for all his worth. Your body crumples, nearly hitting the floor. He holds you while you shutter through it, kissing along your temple.

He guides you gently to the floor, laying you on your back before boxing you in with his own. He guides your thighs over his hips.

He slides in much easier after your first orgasm. By the time he’s fully seated inside you, you already accept your fate. He takes a minute to look where you're conjoined, your puffy pussy taking all of him.

He pulls out just enough before slamming back in, watching your face. Your groan, your head lulling back. He does it again, and again. Shallow, slow thrusts to get you used to the weight of him. He’s seeing stars behind his eyes, watching your face contort while he overstimulates you on purpose.

“You’ve got more in you,” He pants out, “I know you’ve got more in you.”

Those swallow thrusts change into deeper, faster ones. Hitting that spot inside you over and over. Your skin glistens with a light sheen of sweat, his blood is drying on your body. The sight of it is making him insane. Peter leans over and starts sucking bruises into the soft flesh of your neck. His teeth trace your jugular.

“One more,” He breathes in your ear, “Gimme one more…”

Your abs are twitching underneath him, whimpering and whining and clinging to him. You say his name over and over, like it’s the only word that exists in your brain.

His thrusts get more sloppy, feeling your own second impending orgasm build pushes him toward the edge.

“Gonna cum inside you…” Not a question, a statement.

No going back.

You only cry out, seeking out his mouth to drown out the embarrassing noises you’re making. He licks into your mouth just as you tighten and gush around him again.

With one final thrust, he cums deep inside you. He bites down hard on your lower lip.

Now, he’s got your blood on him. No matter how small the amount.

“I love you,” He whispers against your skin, “I love you…”

You nod, struggling to catch your breath. You lean your head against him.

“If you love me, really, you’ll help me clean up.”

He laughs. It’s the prettiest sound you’ve heard in weeks.

“Fine,” He presses a noisey kiss to the crown of your head, “Shower?”

“A shower shower,” You say, “No funny business.”

“I promise nothing.”

“Christ, Peter, at least wait until I can stand…”

It’s a start.

[warrenwrites]

Prototype

Prototype Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: You mess with a web-shooter and Peter thinks it’s hillarious A/N: Can be read as platonic or romantic Word Count: 1.1K

In all the years you knew Peter, you’d always found him impressive, even before you found out about Spiderman. Although you refused to ever say that to his face. Even if you took away all the powers, acrobatics and super senses, he was still a genius and you had to applaud him for all his inventions.

When he was a young teen, he coded an electric lock command and hooked it up to his door so he could lock his door from his computer. That alone was fascinating, but now he has all his super suits and biochemically engineered webs with the tactile strength to hold up a car.

What particularly intrigued you was his web-shooters, which was why you were currently fiddling with whichever one he had laying around his room while you waited for him. You’d agreed to meet back at his place for a movie night after finishing your day but Peter texted to tell you he was running late after deciding to get pizza on the way home. So, to occupy yourself, you picked up the new Spider-Device that you’d only seen on paper until now. It was shorter and thinner in comparison to his current one, way more compact and discreet.

It felt weirdly out of balance like the cartridge was weighing it down and when you flipped it over for further inspection, it busted open.

The aggravated motion must have tossed the formula loose because the web cartridge popped off like a water balloon slipping from the tap and completely coated your hands. The detonation kept your hands clasped together with the mechanism wrapped tightly in your hands.

 You screamed out in surprise and pulled your face away from the mess. ‘Shit. Goddamn it!’ Peter wasn’t going to be mad but he was going to be a major pain in your ass if he saw this. Knowing him, there was a good chance he’d sit down and start eating the pizza just to torment you, leaving you in your misery. ‘No chance,’ you thought, you were starving.

Struggling, you tried to pry you fingers open to drop the device. When that didn’t work you began to get frustrated and started aggressively shaking your hands, bouncing up and down as you cursed out the webs.

That’s when you heard the door open and saw Peter walk in, pizza in hand. “What’s with the ruckus?” He asked softly, trailing off when he saw the scene in front of him.

You didn’t reply, instead you glared at him and a moment passed as amusement inched its way onto Peter’s face.

Smirking, he moved past you and set the pizza down onto his bed where he started setting everything up as if you weren’t currently webbed up, staring at the floor in shame and anticipation. 

He cleared his throat, “maybe this will teach you to not play with my toys?”

‘That smug son of a-’ You sighed, narrowed your eyes and threatened, “I’ll teach you somethin’ when I get out of this and put you on your ass.”

He turned to face you, eyebrows high in disbelief as his smirked got darker. He then dropped his face back to neutral and nodded as he walked over to meet you in the middle of the room. “Oh, okay. And when you ‘get out’-” he mocked, bringing his hands up to taze your sides, “-all on your own, please, please, do just that.”

“No! Peter-ugh-please,” you practically fell back into his chest as he tugged you closer by your sides. You pulled your hands as close to you as you could but it didn’t ‘fend him off from digging his hands into your sides. “I sweheheheahahahar, Ihihihi’m gohohing to kihihihihill yohohohou. Peter!”

“Hey, this is a good life lesson to not touch hazardous prototypes,” he laughed, wrapping an arm around you to trap you to his chest and tickle both hands into your side. “I mean, come on, did you honestly not expect me to do this?”

He cruely had no interest in moving around to swap spots and continued the maddening attack on your side and it was driving you up the walls. “Fohohor GOD sahahahake! Mohohohove yohohohour hahahahands!” You begged, doing everything in your power to fold yourself in half to protect your sides before giving up and jumping on the spot to shake him off.

He laughed at your thrashing, “listen, if supervillains can’t get out of this, I think you’re stuck.” Finally, he moved a hand to spider into lower back causing you to shriek and jolt forward for a moment before yanking you back into his chest when he kissed you lightly on your head.

He eased up slightly, hugging you and fluttering his fingers into your ribs. You giggled out the stupidest thing you could have said at that point. “Sohohome suhuhuper vihihillain ihihif you cahan take them dohohown.”

“Hey! What’s with the attitude?” He shrilled, “I brought you pizza!”

“Yohohou’re right,” you agree. “You dihid ahand I would lihike to eat it!”

You felt his chest rumble as he laughed, slowly letting you go before resting a comforting hand on your back. “Alright, I can practically hear your stomach growling,” he poked you once again. “Even over your screaming.”

“I wa’n’t screaming,” you mumbled, pouting a little through your smile. Peter grabbed your shoulders and scooted you to the side so he could make his way to his desk, digging his hands into your armpits for good measure. “Okay!”

This time you nearly fell to your knees, jumping out of his way so he could reach the desk. Once he grabbed the dissolvent from his drawer, he made a ‘c’mere’ motion with his hand. Without taking a step, you stretched your arms out in front of you and scrunched your nose up at the way he silently laughed at you.

Once your hands were free you vigorously shook them out in front of you and sheepishly uttered, “I’m sorry for wasting your web fluid.”

“Believe me,” he smiled, “it wasn’t a waste.” He poked your side once more whilst moving around you and this time you slapped his hand away.

“Hey! I can fight back now,” you pointed out, crawling onto the bed and getting comfortable in front of the pizza.

“Oh, I’d love to see that,” he taunted, collecting his laptop from the desk. “Here, you can pick the movie and we’ll call it even,” he remarked, setting it down in front of you.

“Oh no, not even a little bit,” you threatened, yanking the laptop onto your lap. “Get ready for a three-hour compilation of Spiderman’s Greatest Fails.”

Peter groaned out a strained laugh and let his head fall back into the headboard. “But-”

“Nope.”

“But I bought pizza,” he whined, tossing an arm over your shoulder.

“Cry about it, Spider-jerk.”

[reidslovely]

Peter Parker - NSFW Alphabet

A/N: To celebrate my new laptop here is the alphabet I’ve been promising!! It’s rough but this is just a silly little gift for y'all. If you like it well enough I might make two more for Jeb and Link maybe Dennis

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem Reader

Content Warnings: SMUT 18+!! mentions of breeding kink, ownership, panty sniffing, voyeurism, Peter just being an overall horn dog. 

_________________________________________

Aftercare - How are they after sex?

Peter is always very attentive after sex. Running around gathering towels, warm rags, heating pads- anything his lover may ask for. As their relationship progresses, Peter gets better at having these things prepared beforehand; but he can still be forgetful. His partner always has his full attention afterwards, it is sweet but he often forgets he also has to take care of himself after as well. Maybe that is just his selfless nature, but it is something (Y/N) is always reminding him to do.

Body Part - Favorite on his body/lovers body.

It wasn’t until after the spiderbite Peter found things about himself to like. Granted, he always had the cocky attitude but it was always his brain he relied more on prior. But now, as an adult and a superhero he finds himself admiring his arms more and more as the arms go on. Though (Y/N) would argue and say his chest, next to his face of course, was the best part.

On (Y/N) it was the hips. They were something to grab and pull them closer in heated moments. It was how he started all their interactions, sexual or not. A quick grab and pull into a kiss, or soft longing strokes.

Cum - I don’t have to explain this one.

Peter was never really shy or nervous about him cum in the moment, it was a natural thing happening to both of their bodies. It was fun to him, something playful. The first few times without a condom he’d dripple it on (Y/N)’s back, stomach, sometimes face depending on their moods. He absolutely adores finishing inside of his partner though, he loves the closeness of it, the risk even.

Dirty Secret - Something no one would expect

Peter is something of a voyeur. Now, initially that isn’t shocking, he watches everyone as Spiderman. But this goes so much further than just being Spiderman, and it wasn’t something he was even aware he was into until he started his relationship with (Y/N). He caught himself lingering in the bedroom window one night, watching them disrobe from their shower. It made him feel the best type of dirty, it was a weird power play that he wouldn’t have enjoyed prior. After making his presence in the room known, the feeling didn’t leave.

“Where are you watching me?” (Y/N) laughed. Peter shrugged looking at them, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Would you mind if I was?”

“I left the curtains open for a reason.”

Experience - How experienced is he?

Peter had a long term girlfriend and while that gave him some experience it wasn’t until his early twenties that he finally started exploring more. There was a point when he was so grief, and guilt ridden he would fuck anyone who showed him the slightest interest. Being Spiderman was hard, and after Gwen, Peter couldn’t hold his anger in anymore. After a several patrols gone wrong due to his anger, he put his frustrations into sex to avoid Spiderman becoming what he was protecting New York from. This gave him new experiences, a few kinks, and led him to his now partner.

Favorite Position - Y’all know this one

Peter loves, loves the feeling of being deep in his girl- but he also loves to see the look on her face as it twists around his cock. So of course he’s a missionary guy- but he’s flexible. Sometimes watching from the bottom is better: her face twisting, her nails scraping down his chest. As long as he can see her he’s a happy guy.

Goofy - Are they more serious or relaxed in the moment?

It all depends on Peter’s mood, and (Y/N)’s also. They can be very giggly, hands fumbling over one another soft jokes spilling from their lips. Peter isn’t so heavy on her all the time. The first time they ever had sex it was filled with soft kisses, feet tickling against each other- it was perfect.

Hair - How well groomed are they? Do the carpets match the drapes?

The carpet is very curly, Peter does appreciate a good trim but is never fully bald, Spiderman only has so much time on his hands.

When it comes to his partners he doesn’t care. He knows she keeps it trimmed, but pussy is pussy- and he could eat it all day.

Intimacy - How are they in the moment? Romantic aspects

Peter Parker loves love, no matter how scared he was at first. He loves the hot, heated moments, but it’s the genuine need that really pushes him. He loves kissing her, pressing his lips to her head, or her lips letting it linger. The soft whispers of “I love you’s” or “I need you”. No matter how dirty, giggly, or sweet it was Peter treated sex as devotion giving everything to her, and setting her on a pedestal.

Jack off - Masturbation headcanon

Peter is not ashamed to admit he jerks off quite a bit- well, used too. Before (Y/N) came along he did it a lot…a lot. He just didn’t have time for Peter Parker stuff- then he stumbled upon the most beautiful girl after patrol one night. Shamefully, he would admit he did masturbate thinking about her that night- but not in a creepy way. Nowadays, having to do it himself is rare. But when he does, he always has something of hers nearby.

Kink - One or more of their kinks.

Peter is super into ownership, he loves the reassurance that (Y/N) is his and no one else's. He loves hearing her say it, he’s ruined anyone else for her. He’s ruined her for everyone else.

Breeding, Peter craves to have a family with her. He knows she would make an amazing mother, and that he would be a better father than he ever was- he’d be the man Ben raised him to be. This also plays into Peter’s need for ownership, for people to look at her and know she’s off limits, that she’s his.

Locations - Favorite place to do it

He loves the bed, it’s just classic. It’s a safe place, that he doesn’t feel he has to be on high alert. But, some nights when she does pay him a visit at the lab- he can’t help but get carried away with her. Pushing her face down onto one of the tables, pulling the dress up around her hips, and just sliding into her. There’s a thrill in it.

Motivation - Turn on

Domesticity. It is as simple as that, Peter loves the simpleness of it. Doing Sunday chores together, or sitting on the couch. In those moments he thinks about how perfect this is, how perfect she is. Which leads him to start kissing her, and from there…he has to appreciate her- duh.

No - Turn offs

He is a try most things once-kind of guy. As long as there is long, and consensual conversations beforehand. However, his hard no’s include bodily movements: piss, shit- it’s just not his thing and would never even look into it.

Oral - Prefer giving, receiving.

Pussy Parker was a nickname given to Peter by Flash senior year of high school- for the wrong reasons. Peter Parker loves to eat pussy, it’s just a well known fact amongst the friend-group. He is very open about the fact he could spend all day down there- and has. He does love the intimacy of receiving, but giving tastes sooo much better.

Pace - Rough or slow

Even when Peter is going rough- it is slow, teasing movements. There’s just something the way she clenches around his teasing strokes that gets him. Yeah, both.

Quickies - Are they even an option?

No. He likes to tease, to play to make it an event. That’s not to say he hasn’t but they are few and far between. No matter what deranged science experiment is running through New York this week he will find time to fuck his girl properly.

Risk - Experiment?

Again, try anything once kind of guy. The first three months of the relationship was pure experimenting, even now there are still things they will bring to one another eager to try. They love to find new kinks, it’s an even better feeling just stumbling on them.

That's how he found out he had a daddy kink.

Stamina - How many rounds can they go?

That spider-bite gave him an incredible amount of stamina. Sometimes having to stop himself when he can tell his partner has had enough. He could go all night into the morning if he really wanted. Maybe that’s the next thing he’ll ask to try.

Toys - Do they own toys?

Duh. The machine is the friend not the enemy. The red and blue vibe in the right drawer has been a happy participant in many of their adventures. Peter has never tried any on himself, but he loves using it on (Y/N).

Unfair - Do they love to tease?

Yes. It’s as simple as that, he knows it gets to her. Especially right before he leaves for patrol, he gets her on the edge before pulling her back. He’s lucky his webs shoot as far as they do because if she ever got a hold of him New York would have been destroyed long ago.

Volume - How loud are they.

Peter has always been very quiet in bed. Maybe that is because he lived with May for so long but he hardly ever moaned in bed. Till he met (Y/N), the first week of them sleeping together she received several noise complaints from her neighbors because of him. Earning them dirty looks in the hallway almost everyday.

Wild Card - Random head-canon

He’s a total pervert when it comes to panties. He is fascinated by the underwear she wears. Watching her slide them on, take them off. He even sniffs them when going down on her. Most of the time they're cute, with a silly little design on them. His favorites are a pair of soft yellow ones with a little bunny on the front.

X-Ray - What is going on under those clothes

Average size between 6 to 7 inches. It’s the thickness that gets you.

Yearning - How high is their sex drive.

Peter can become horny at the drop of a hat. Again, the heightened senses that came with the bite can push him from zero to horny at the slightest thing. He is ready to go whenever, constantly tip-toeing around and waiting for a cue.

Zzz - How quickly they fall asleep after.

It is always aftercare first, then sleep. Even then he waits for (Y/N) to fall asleep first. Holding her into his chest, or back to his chest kissing her head. Making sure everything is okay before he even thinks about sleeping.

_____________________________________

As always reblog, and leave a comment if you’d like!!

taglist: 

@bxcketbarnes @sincericida @toomanyfictionalboyfriends​ @andrews-lovr @helloheyhihowdyheya @raajali3 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @megmehz @lateridk @adhdhufflepuff 

[chiveandheavy]

is anyone ever reading a fandfic thats sooooo good, and then you accidentally leave and try to find it but can't find it

[petcr3]

I Wanna Dance With Somebody | Teacher!TASM!Peter Parker x Teacher!Reader

summary: Peter Parker is your fellow teacher best work friend, but when you ask him to help chaperone the middle school dance, you’re both forced to confront your feelings.

word count: 5.7k (i... cannot believe i’ve done this)

warnings: fem!reader, students getting too nosy about their teachers’ business, middle school dance content lmao. nothing too crazy. VERY slightly suggestive comments at the end, L/N = last name 

a/n: this is my long-awaited (perhaps, lol) contribution to @spidervee ‘s April AU Event. now, as @p3mybeloved​ calls it, a May-U. Please enjoy!

Voices rise to fill the auditorium and you feel an immense swell of pride as you conduct your students through the last few measures of the song you’ve been working on. They cut off perfectly and the air crackles for a few seconds with silent excitement.

“Yes!” you cry, “that’s awesome, guys! I’m really impressed.” Your fifth and sixth graders beam at you from the risers in the auditorium and you can’t help but beam right back as triumphant chatter starts to build. You’ve been working on a song called Cantar! and the kids have been struggling to nail some overlapping harmonies. It’s admittedly a tough thing to pull off, but you’ve all been working at it and today it’s finally where you need it to be. 

It’s Marcus, one of your only students in the bass section, who speaks up and alerts you to an unexpected visitor at the back of the auditorium.

“What’s up Mr. Parker?” he says. You glance over your shoulder and see Peter leaning in the doorway. 

“They sound great, Ms. L/N,” he says, and you grin before turning your attention back to the kids. 

“Thank you, Mr. Parker,” you prompt, earning a decidedly cacophonous response. You sigh.

Any opportunity to yell indoors. 

You’re too pleased with your choir to really be frustrated, so you just shake your head and check your watch. It’s about time to dismiss them, but when you look up, you see that they’re already filing into the audience to get their bookbags. 

“Okay,” you say in your teacher voice, exhaling a defeated but amused sigh, “well, thank you to those of you who are waiting for me to actually dismiss you.” 

You’re met with a few wide-eyed stares, especially from the members of the choir who are already halfway down the aisle. “It’s okay!” you say, “Just please wait for me to dismiss you next time. If I’m running behind and I don’t realize, just raise your hand and tell me.”

“Okay! Thanks Ms. L/N!” calls out one of your students, Fae.

“No problem,” you respond with a chuckle. “Bye guys!” You wave as the rest of the students file out, weaving around Peter. You hear him call out after one of your sixth graders. 

“You still owe me last week’s homework, Katie! I need you to get it to me by Friday, okay?” There’s no harshness in his voice, just an earnest desire for her to do well, keep her grades up. That warms your heart. 

“Bet, Mr. Parker!” she replies, already halfway out the door before catching herself, “UH–– I mean–– okay!” Peter laughs, surprised, and hangs his head. You can hear Katie and her friends cackling as they head for their next class and the last few students file out.

“You walked right into that one,” you say, heaving your bag up onto your shoulder.

“Yeah, guess I did,” he shrugs, a little laughter still playing at his lips. You don’t realize your gaze is lingering on his mouth until you look up and his eyes are on you, brow a little furrowed. You barely have time to feel the heat that floods your chest when he speaks up–– thank god. “That bag looks like it’s a million pounds,” he says, “what are you carrying in there?” You let out a laugh, relieved he doesn’t seem to have caught you staring. 

“Oh, you know,” you reply breezily, “rocks.”

“I don’t doubt it.” 

The two of you navigate the busy halls toward the teacher’s lounge, saying hello to a few students who perk up when they see Peter or you, until finally you make it into the relative quiet of the teacher’s lounge. Peter’s things are already set up on your usual table and you drop your bag with a heavy thud on one of the chairs.

“How’s your day been?” you ask, moving to root around in the fridge for your lunch. 

“Eh, not so bad. I gotta figure out what to do about Alana Rubinstein.”

“Oh!” you say, “what’s going on with Alana?”

“Nothing huge, she’s just…” Peter shakes his head, eyebrows knit together, “She’s not where I want her to be in chemistry. And it’s killing me because it’s not that she’s not putting in the effort, you know?” You can’t help but let out a little laugh. 

“No, I can’t imagine her refusing to put in effort.” It’s true–– she’s a driven student, and very enthusiastic about choir and the school plays. You have a feeling you’ll see her on Broadway one day–– but you can see where science may not be her strongest subject. In general music last year, she had had a little trouble with the math aspect of music theory; the humanities seem to be more her strong suit.

“I want her to get the concepts, you know, but I think the math is intimidating for her. And I get it, some people aren’t math people… I just gotta get her grade up without fudging it.”

You return to the table with your dinky lunch clutched in one hand; a little package of hummus and pretzels. You’d accidentally turned your alarm off instead of hitting snooze this morning so there had been no time to prepare anything. You’d only just managed to swing by the corner store and pick something up without being late.

“Maybe a research project,” you muse, sitting down. “I had her in general music last year and she did a great report on Dolly Parton.” You pop the lid off your snack-sized lunch and peel back the foil. “You could assign some lesser-known chemists. Maybe Rosalind Franklin?”

“What is that?”

You look at him, shocked. Horrified, even.

“Do you… not know who Rosalind Franklin is?”

“Wh– No, I know who Rosalind Franklin is–– And so do my students, thank you very much–– but I mean that.” He picks up your little cup of hummus. “Is this all you’re eating?” You look at the pretzels in your hands and hold them up, groaning. 

“Oh, no,” you say unenthusiastically, “I’ve got these too. Huzzah.”

“You’re not gonna make it past 2:00!” he protests.

“I know!” You snatch your hummus from his hands and wrinkle your nose at it. “I woke up late this morning, I had to run to the deli.” 

“Here,” he says, plopping half of his sandwich down in front of you.

“Oh Peter, I can’t!”

“You can and you will,” he says, taking a bite of his half as if to punctuate the thought. “I made it pretty big anyway.”

“I’m not taking your lunch!” you cry. A part of you really does feel guilty, but the rest of you is fighting not to swoon at his kindness. It rolls off him so effortlessly, you can hardly stand it.

“I wish you would,” he says, mouth half full, a boyish smile gracing his features. You study the offering for a moment. It looks good.

“Okay, fine,” you reply, “But I’ve got conditions.” Peter raises an eyebrow. “You gotta share my pretzels.”

“What kind of hummus is it?” You frown, pick up the discarded plastic wrapper to check.

“Garlic.”

“Deal.” 

You open up the container and plunk it between the two of you. Peter takes a pretzel from the plastic cup and dips it into the hummus with spindly fingers. Before you can catch yourself you watch him bring it to his lips before your eyes snap back to your newfound bounty.

True to his word, Peter has given you a sandwich stacked fairly high and when you take a bite, you let out an appreciative groan.

“Oh my god,” you say with eyes shut, “this is perfect. Thank you.” You don’t notice the way the tips of Peter’s ears turn pink, and by the time you look up at him, he’s regained his composure, fixing you with an easy smile.

“Anytime. Can’t have you passing out in high school choir. They’d roast you to kingdom come.” You laugh.

“Well, lucky for me I have a knight in shining lab coat, huh?” Peter hums a little laugh.

“Lucky indeed.” 

The rest of your shared lunch passes pretty uneventfully. You regale him with the backstory of Cantar!, which he makes sure to compliment again, and then you both hurry off to your respective classes. 

Throughout the day, you find yourself thinking of his warm smile–– in the doorway of the auditorium, to the kids calling his name in the hallway, at you when he’d pointed out you’d gotten a little hummus on your nose. 

One would be hard-pressed to get you to admit it aloud, but you have an enormous crush on Midtown Science’s chemistry teacher. 

One more thing I have in common with my students, you think, climbing into your car at the end of the day. Great.

The next day during homeroom, Peter sits, nursing the large iced coffee you’d brought him in the morning. He’d taken your project idea to heart, and had texted you far too late last night asking about possibly stealing your rubric. You’d sent it along and made a mental note to pick him up something caffeinated on your way to work. There were only a few students in his homeroom when you arrived to drop it off, and the grin he’d given you made the errand 10 times more worth it.

Now he’s squinting into his laptop screen as he makes some edits to the decidedly music-focused language in your rubric. Minutes tick by and Peter’s 8th grade homeroom gradually fills in. After a little while, Jerome, one of the early arrivals, speaks up.

“Mr. Parker, are you gonna be at the Spring Dance next month?”

“What? No, that’s for you guys,” he replies, a little distracted, not looking up from his laptop.

“Yeah, but it’s gonna need chaperones,” Maria chimes in. “They’re not gonna let us be in the gym by ourselves.”

“No,” Peter laughs, “they certainly aren’t.”

“Yeah, and we want the cool teachers to chaperone!” When Peter looks up, Jerome’s expression is so earnest he can’t help but consider.

“When is it again? Like mid-April, right?”

“Two weeks before spring break!” Alisha, another student, confirms from the back of the classroom.

“I feel like you guys are up to something,” Peter says, standing up from his desk, mostly kidding. A giggle ripples out of someone–– he’s not sure who–– and is met with a few resounding shushes. “Okay, nope. Spit it out. What’s going on with you guys?” The room falls silent. He’s pretty sure every pair of eyes is on him now, even Ricky, the class clown, and Faith, one of the eighth grade’s shyest. Playfully, he narrows his eyes at them. He’s got a good relationship with his homeroom, so he trusts that there isn’t a prank in the works. Still… one can never be sure with a room full of 13 year olds.

“Ms. L/N is gonna be there!” Fae finally blurts out.

“Oh.” Peter blinks. 

Come on, he thinks, no way they know.

He surveys the classroom. No one looks surprised.

Do… do they know? 

“Well there you go,” he says, clearing his throat, “you’ve already got a cool teacher chaperoning.” He looks at the class. They seem unimpressed.

“Mr. Parker,” says Alisha, folding her hands on the table, suddenly all business. “We think you should ask Ms. L/N out.”

“Whoa! Guys,” he says, barking out a laugh, “come on. This is totally inappropriate.”

“But it would be so cute!” cries Jackie. 

“No, nope!” Peter says, horrified to feel heat creeping up his neck, “We are not talking about this!” But even in his discomfort, he can’t turn off his fondness for them. “Just… you guys worry about what… what songs you wanna hear, not…” He laughs, shoulders sagging. “Oh my god,” he murmurs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “you guys are killing me.”

“But you love us!”

“Yeah yeah,” Peter replies, waving them off despite the smile on his lips. “Let’s get back to… homeroom stuff, all right? I will consider chaperoning. But we’re putting a moratorium on this discussion, okay?”

“A what?”

“It’s like a ban. We’re not talking about it anymore. Got it?”

The students who are still paying attention either nod excitedly or drone their acquiescence and the rest of the class, thankfully, has lost interest. He shakes his head as he settles back down at his desk, trying not to toss around the idea of you swaying in the dim lights of the gym, smiling at him, holding a dixie cup of fruit juice and waving enthusiastically to your students. He almost doesn’t catch himself as his thoughts wander to a somehow-empty gymnasium, your head on his chest, left hand tucked up against his shoulder, his arm around your waist, right hands clasped gently together, bodies close, dancing to nothing but the silence after everyone has gone.

He has to stop himself from muttering a quick prayer of thanks when the bell interrupts his thoughts–– he’d definitely have started blushing if he imagined kissing you.

Peter winds up agonizing over his students’ request much more than he would like to admit. It’s easy enough for him to just shove it out of his consciousness as the day goes by–– especially because your lunch periods don’t line up on Fridays–– but without the school day to distract him, Peter finds himself turning the idea over and over in his mind once the weekend arrives.

Of course it wouldn’t be that weird to see if you want some back up chaperoning the dance. If he’d known you were doing it, Peter might have volunteered of his own accord. But his students had made it pretty clear why they were asking him. And that’s what scares him–– never mind the fact that they can tell he likes you–– it’s the idea of actually asking you out. 

What if he does? What if you say no? What if you say yes? What if you feel like you have to indulge him? What if you agree and then have a terrible time? What if you’re seeing someone and it just never came up? Peter can imagine the gentle lilt of your voice, kind even delivering rejection, the sound a caress no matter how painful the words.

But the last thing Peter wants is to put you in an uncomfortable position. And besides, you’re one of his best friends. Sure, you’re coworkers, but it’s become more than that. The two of you have developed a real friendship–– one Peter values too highly to risk over some idea his students have gotten in their heads. But as Saturday crawls into Sunday and he fine tunes his lesson plans and frets over his laundry, Peter decides he can chaperone the dance with you without making it into something that it isn’t.

It’s a busy time in the school year and a boyfriend is probably the last thing you’re looking for anyway. As much as his students may want to play matchmaker, Peter is more than capable of doing you a friendly favor. So when you bring up the idea of chaperoning before he does during your Monday lunch, Peter can’t help but feel a little thrown off.

His carefully-laid plans are thrown to the wind as you cheerily explain to him that the dance could use another chaperone, and despite himself, Peter feels his heart rate picking up a little. God, what’s gotten into him? You don’t mean anything by it, this doesn’t mean anything.

Even so, he’s worried he sounds a little overeager when he agrees to help out.

It won’t be all that much work, you explain. Mostly it’ll just involve a shift at the snack table and standing to the side of the dance floor in case something goes wrong. Even so, you thank Peter profusely for agreeing to give up a Friday night.

“I’m sure you have better things to do,” you say. Peter waves off your concern with a kind smile. There genuinely isn’t anywhere he’d rather be.

When Peter shows up to school the evening of the dance, you’re already in full gear. You’d asked him to arrive at 5:30pm, but by the looks of it, you’ve been back at school for a while. The gym is decorated already and you’re fussing with your laptop near the entrance. Mx. Jiminez and Mr. Janssen are loading up the snack tables. You don’t notice Peter until he’s right in front of you, and your head snaps up like you feel his gaze on you. He grins.

“Sorry; you looked so focused I didn’t wanna disturb you.” You offer Peter a weary smile before your eyes flicker back to the screen.

“No, you’re just in time. Would you mind running to the faculty room? I sent an updated attendance list to the printer–– we got so many last minute emails after dismissal today.” Suddenly, a warm hand rests on your shoulder and you look up at Peter, a little surprised.

“Hey,” he says softly, “this looks amazing. It’s all gonna be fine. Did you organize this whole thing?” You nod a little bashfully.

“Yeah.”

“That’s amazing. Hey, don’t worry. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

The sound of his voice is reassuring, grounding. You remember to feel your feet in the soles of your shoes. Peter smiles when you exhale deeply.

“Thank you,” you reply, shutting your eyes for a moment. When you open them again, you look a little bit more like your normal self–– the anxiety isn’t gone, but Peter can see the glint in your eye again. “You look nice, by the way.” His eyebrows lift, like he wasn’t expecting the compliment, but he recovers quickly. 

“Not half as good as you.”

And with an affectionate squeeze to your shoulder, he sweeps off to fetch your list.

Peter is impressed to find that the list you mentioned is three pages’ worth of names. He scans through and sees that nearly his whole homeroom will be in attendance, and a decent chunk of the middle school, all told. When he arrives back at your table, you’re nowhere to be seen, though he hears from Alix Jiminez that you’re in the A/V Room with Coach Weekes loading up the speakers for the makeshift DJ booth.

You continue to flit in and out, letting Peter know that you have him down for the first snack table shift with Mademoiselle Youssef, helping Nancy Weekes find the right cables to connect up her laptop, and laughing with Karl Janssen about something Peter can’t hear, but is glad that his colleague said. He can’t help himself–– you’re exquisite, the way you laugh and swish around, determined, stressed, beaming. You’re so many things all at once; contradictions, joyfulness, beauty. Marianne Youssef elbows him as you march out the front doors, just visible beyond the entrance to the gym to start checking students in.

“You’re being really obvious,” she says, a calm but knowing smile on her lips.

“I… what?”

“Come on,” she says, straightening out a lopsided bag of doritos, “it’s not like people don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” he insists. It isn’t denial in his voice–– just pure, honest confusion.

“You and Y/N. We’re all rooting for you to get together. Hell, I’m about to start taking bets.” Peter’s throat is dry. Karl strolls up, smiling.

“You giving him a hard time, Mari?”

“Somebody’s got to!”

“Alix says they’re starting to arrive, so maybe table it for now. Otherwise the kids are gonna start talking.”

“Like they don’t already,” she scoffs. A few kids step nervously over the threshold. Music Peter has heard but doesn’t really recognize gets a little louder. 

“Oh, here they come,” says Karl, “godspeed! You two are gonna be overrun in a minute. I’m on door duty.”

“I’m just saying,” Marianne murmurs, “and then I’ll drop it–– if you asked her out, I really think she’d say yes.” She winks before turning her attention out to the small but growing group of students anxiously milling further into the gym. One student makes his way hesitantly toward the snack table. “Bonjour, Martin!” Marianne says brightly. “Qu’est-ce que tu voudrais?”

Peter recognizes the boy, though he doesn’t have him in any of his sections this year.

“Um… Je veux… un… soda?”

“Je voudrais un soda, s’il vous plait” she corrects warmly. Martin repeats the phrase, blush evident even under the low light.

“Très bien! Quel type?”

“A… avez-vous du Coke?”

“Oui, bien sûr!” She crouches to reach into the cooler and Peter offers the kid a pitying smile.

“You want some chips?”

“Uh…”

“Grab whatever kind you want. No French required.” 

“Hey!” cries Marianne, coming up with her quarry. Martin takes a bag of cheetos and accepts his hard-earned drink.

“Thanks, Mr. Parker. Merci madame!” 

“Mademoiselle!” she protests as Martin scurries off. “I swear, Peter, these kids are trying to age me.” Peter laughs.

“I think you just aged him.”

“Eh,” she shrugs. “Education never sleeps.”

With a little coaxing, Marianne stops making her students answer in French and the rest of the half hour flies by. Peter gets it–– when he was 12 he would’ve taken every free soda and bag of chips he could’ve managed.

It’s not too long before the kids finally seem a little less anxious and are dancing pretty enthusiastically to Coach Weekes’s playlist. Peter makes a mental note to ask her how she figured out what the kids even listen to. He only ever catches snippets during homeroom and he’s too scared to even ask how TikTok works. You’ve shown him a couple of funny ones, but he can tell there is a whole world neither of you quite understand.

He’s lost in thought when you trot over to the snack table and when he hears the sound of his first name, his gaze snaps up to find your smiling face.

“Hey,” you say, letting out a laugh, “am I in trouble?” Peter visibly relaxes. 

“No, sorry–– I was expecting a student and then I heard Peter, and I…” he shakes his head. “Anyway, how can I help?” You grin.

“You’re stuck with me for the next shift,” you say, mischief in your eyes. Peter can’t help but beam.

“What’s the damage?”

“Dance floor duty. You can take a soda for the road.” Peter laughs. You look so happy, so in your element. He can tell you’re reveling in the fruits of your hard work, the well-concealed anxiety from earlier in the evening gone.

“I’m good, but thank you.” You flash a smile and pull him from behind the table, where Alix and Karl slip in to take over. 

There are a few jackets piled up by the side of the gym but you find a little free space and lean up against the mat-clad wall, sighing contentedly. Peter can’t help but watch your expression as you survey the gym, eyes crinkling as you smile, waving back to a few students who’ve noticed your arrival.

The clump doesn’t start to form right away. For a solid half hour, you and Peter just chat, intervening every so often when the dancing turns too much into flying limbs or students are running around the gym at full speed. Slowly but surely, though, Peter notices a few students huddling together nearby, glancing over at the two of you. He tries to ignore it, knows that kids will be kids, but his heartbeat starts to quicken when Fae begins to walk over. She looks a little sheepish and Peter feels certain she’s going to bring up the conversation from homeroom. There’s nothing he can do, now, though, so he simply braces for impact.

A familiar bassline starts to thrum and you gasp excitedly, catching Peter’s attention.

“Oh my god!’ you cry, “Remind me to buy Nancy a thank-you coffee.”

“Um, Ms. L/N?” Fae asks. Peter swallows as you turn to face her. She doesn’t say anything right away, and you break into a radiant smile.

“Wait a minute…” you say, clearly piecing something together. “Did you guys ask Coach Weekes to play this?” Fae nods, and the rest of the clump perks up when you look over to them.

“Will you come do the dance with us?” Marcus calls. You throw your head back and laugh.

“Of course I will!” you reply, and before Peter can blink, Fae grabs your hand and drags you onto the dance floor, a gaggle of students following after. He watches, slack-jawed but delighted, as you and several members of the choir launch into goofy choreography to Under Pressure by Queen and David Bowie.

Your little rag-tag team vacillates wildly between singing dramatically and doing cheesy dance moves, and soon other kids begin to join in, though Peter knows for a fact some of them don’t take your classes. The gym is nothing but smiles (and the odd confused glance) as you and your students mimic the final piano notes and snap along to the final beats. There is a split second of silence before thunderous applause drowns out the opening strains of the next song, and quite a few kids throw their arms around you before scampering off back to their friends.

You’re still laughing when you make your way back to Peter, leaning heavily into the wall beside him.

“That was something,” he says once you’ve caught your breath, impish smile on his lips. “You choreograph that whole thing?”

You look at him and duck your head in embarrassment. His heart feels like an overinflated balloon.

“It helps them chill out when they’re stressed!” you squeak. He breaks into a grin as his heart-balloon pops. He nudges you with his shoulder.

“I’m only teasing. That was incredibly sweet.”

“It was. I had no idea they were going to do that.”

“No, I meant–– I mean, it totally was sweet of them. But I meant you. That you went out there and danced with them. That you make time for them to be silly. That must mean a lot to them.”

You nod, smile, stand up a little straighter. “Yeah. I think it does.”

“They’re lucky to have you.”

“Thank you, Peter.”

The rest of the dance goes by smoothly. After an hour on dance floor duty, you hurry off to take point on the first wave of the staggered departures. Peter stays on in the gym, making sure the students leave at the right times and don’t forget their belongings. He also keeps an eye on the dance floor.

Once the last of the students have left, Peter helps Nancy break down the A/V equipment while you, Karl, Alix, and Marianne set about cleaning up the gym. You’re on a ladder collecting streamers as Nancy and Peter begin to wheel away the cart, with Marianne tagging along to hold open doors. Peter throws you a wink on their way out and you think he must be trying to kill you with the way your legs turn to jelly.

You hear a snort from below and glare down at Karl.

“What?” you snap, mostly playfully. You have a feeling you already know what he’s going to say.

“I mean… you guys are just being willful now.”

“What do you mean?” You turn your attention back to your crumpled ball of streamers.

“I mean even Elliot thinks you two need to just get it over with and he’s never even met you guys.”

“You talk to Elliot about us?” 

“I am definitely not the only one gossiping about you to my partner.”

“Oh my god,” you groan.

“Oh relax. We just want you guys to be happy.” You toss your streamers down at him and he chuckles as you make your descent. When you turn around, the rest of the gym is, miraculously, spotless. Alix holds one final balloon in their hands.

“Okay, heads up!” they say, “I’ve been popping quietly, but this is the send off.”

“What’re we doing?” you hear Peter’s voice from the doorway.

“Celebrating this shit being over!”

And with a bang, the final balloon disappears. Everyone cheers and claps. Marianne helps Karl stow the ladder away in the hall closet and you toss out the streamers before shutting off the lights in the gym. You thank Rick, the custodian, for locking up behind you as everyone heads to their cars. Peter lingers to walk by your side.

“Thank you so much for helping out,” you say, falling into stride with him.

“Hey, no problem. It was fun. I liked seeing you in your element out there.”

“I’m never gonna live that dance down, huh?”

“No, it wasn’t just that! You looked really proud of what you pulled off. And you should be.” You stop and look at him.

“Thank you. That really means a lot.” The two of you stand there in the middle of the lot, waving goodbye to your colleagues as they depart.

“Here,” Peter says, “I’ll walk you to your car.” You let him. Both of you amble slowly towards your Prius–– it’s a combination of tiredness and not wanting to say goodbye on your end–– but eventually you make it to the driver’s side door. You open your mouth to say good night but Peter speaks first. 

“Hey, listen, I… I know I…” he frowns, shakes his head. “I’ve been thinking a lot and I just… I really care about you. And maybe I’m reading a little too much into things or my students are getting to me or who knows what, but I feel like there’s more between us than just friendship. And if you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine, you don’t owe me a damn thing, but it’s been driving me crazy lately and you were just so you tonight––

“Peter,” you murmur.

“I just had to say something. I’m sorry, I know it’s late, and you’re probably exhausted but I––”

“Peter,” you say, a little more firmly. He stops talking, looks at you like he’s coming out of a trance. “I feel the same way,” you say softly, “I’ve wanted to plant one on you since, like, last year.” He blinks.

“You’re joking.”

“I am not.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, and before you have a second to think, his hands are on your cheeks and he’s kissing you.

Warmth floods your chest, and for a second your mind short circuits. But where your thoughts go blank, your body responds, a hand reaching up to curl into the hair at the nape of his neck, the other grasping at the back of his jacket.

His kiss is something gentle, earnest, and reverent–– only a hint of desperation slips through in the way he holds you, the way he chases your lips to kiss you again when you break apart. His hands have slipped around to the back of your neck and when he’s done kissing you again he rests his forehead against yours.

“Wow,” you murmur, “so… we could’ve been doing that all this time?”

“I think so.” 

You’re both quiet for a moment, bodies still pressed close. After a moment, you giggle and bury your face in his chest. He lets out a soft laugh and wraps his arms around you, giving your hip a gentle squeeze.

“Did you say your students were getting in your head?” 

“Oh yeah. We had a whole discussion in homeroom. They were… not very subtle about their thoughts on what I should do.”

“Oh my god. We really are idiots, huh?”

“Nah,” he says, nosing against your hair. “Just… goofballs.” You laugh.

“Goofballs,” you repeat, peeking up at Peter.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he says, shaking his head, “what am I gonna do with you?”

“Wine and dine me? Take me home?” Peter’s eyes widen. As soon as you’ve said it, you regret it, start backpedaling. “Sorry, that… was a little forward.” You make a move to step away from him, but he holds you gently in place.

“Hey,” he says, “no. It wasn’t too forward. That was actually incredibly hot. But I can’t risk it.” You frown.

“Why not?”

“Because if one of us leaves our car here over the weekend the kids will find out and they’ll flip.” You laugh. “That, and the second my body gets near a mattress I’m gonna fall into a long and deep sleep.” Still, your eyes flicker away from his, a little abashed. “But” he says, fingers drifting under your chin, coaxing your gaze back to his, “I’m free this weekend. You eat food?” You snort.

“Yeah, Peter, I eat food.”

“Good then. It’s a date. We’ll get dinner. And then,” he says, leaning in, “maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll get to take you home. If you want.” When you grin, your lips are almost touching.

“Already talking about getting lucky, are we?” Peter smiles against your lips and kisses you once more–– a quick, teasing thing.

“I already got lucky tonight.” 

You can’t help but feel a little cold when he begins to disentangle himself from you. You hold on to him until his fingertips slip from yours, smiling as he starts to walk off to his car, but he stops. He turns around and in a few strides he’s back in your arms again, kissing you one final time, enthusiastic, playful. He kisses your temple next, speaks low in your ear. “Can I see you tomorrow?” You brush your fingers into his hair and make him look at you.

“Yeah, Pete,” you say, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He grins, pumps his fist in the air, and finally turns away to get into his car. You slide into your own driver’s seat and shut the door. You can’t help yourself–– you fire off a text to Karl.

Immediately, you can see that he’s typing a reply. Your phone screen reads:

Who made the first move?

– We kind of both did?

Yeah, but if you HAD to say who?

– I guess Peter?

I JUST WON FIFTY BUCKS

You let out a laugh and rest your forehead against your steering wheel. You have a feeling your and Peter’s are about to become Midtown Sciene’s best-worst-kept secret.

[bitchyglitterfox]

Always Second Best (Rewrite) - TASM!Peter Parker x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, death, strangers to friends to future lovers, lovers to friends, spoilers for no way home, MJ falling scene used.

Ned, You and MJ hear the metal of the scaffolding fall, causing you and MJ begin to slip off. She looks at you with fear in her eyes as you both fall. Ned tries to catch you both but almost falls himself, catching himself on a pipe at the last second. You watch as Ned gets further away, your biggest fear of falling and losing your best friends is all coming true.

Time slows down, you reach out to try and grab anything. Your rational thinking is that Peter, your Peter will come and save you, you are his girlfriend after all. But no, your second greatest fear, he goes after MJ, the girl he would always love, the one that got away. You were always second best, when she had kept saying no to Peter's advances you said yes when he finally asked you after you had been pining for years. You watch as they embrace and she kisses him.

You welcome your death at this moment, you aren’t needed. Three's company and four's a crowd the saying goes, however fate has different plans for you. Luckily you weren't going to die that day, Peter 3 as if on instinct the moment he saw you fall he himself rushed to you. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't felt a certain pull towards him while you helped them work in the lab mere hours ago.

“You look so much like her,” Peter whispers as you help him work on his web shooter liquid.

“Hm? Who do I look like?” You look up at him with a smile, ever since you met him you’ve felt this pull towards him.

“My Y/n, you are basically a cloned copy of her, she um died saving our friend Gwen. I couldn’t save her, I—I wasn’t able to save her,” he says sadly.

That memory goes through your mind just as Peter 3 has you in his arms he safely brings you back down to solid ground. He looks at you with tears in his eyes.

"Are you ok" his grip on you gets a little tighter, looking down at your neck and then back to your eyes.

"Y-yeah I'm ok, Peter you saved me," you say quietly before burying your face into his neck and softly crying, both from the fear of dying and the realization that you will always be second best to MJ.

He lets you down gently, taking your face into

his hands, "Hey hey what's wrong?" He spoke gently, wiping the tears coming down your cheeks.

"Just watching as my boyfriend saves the girl he actually loves instead of myself, it's finally hitting me that I was never truly his and that I will always be second best to MJ, wow sorry I'm just dumping all this on you as the world is coming to an end," you rant.

He let you down gently, taking your face into his hands, "Hey hey what's wrong?" He spoke gently, wiping the tears coming down your cheeks.

"Just watching as my boyfriend saves the girl he actually loves instead of myself,” you laugh, “it's finally hitting me that I was never truly his and that I will always be second best to MJ, wow sorry I'm just dumping all this on you as the world is coming to an end," you rant.

"Hey, it's ok, I know I'm not your Peter but if you ever need anything I'll be there for you ok," he speaks so gently while cupping your face in his hands, so lovingly to you. Something inside you tells you that this is something you want him to always be like this with you. Something deep inside is telling you that this Peter, the one from a different universe is the one you were meant to be with.

You smile at his words, realizing he should probably get back into action, "Thank you Peter now go get em tiger”

The time has finally come, time to send Peter 2 and Peter 3 back to their own worlds. You were standing off to the side closer to Peter 1 and 2 while Ned, MJ and Peter huddled together. You wished you could join them however you had a favor to ask.

"Dr. Strange sir, if it's all the same to you, would it be OK if you sent me back with Peter 3?" you ask, running your hands nervously over each other.

Your Peter looks at you with a shocked expression, his eyes swirling with confusion and something else, relief? Regret? Something you can't identify, but you are for certain that he would thank you if you could.

"Y/n, what why?" He asks shocked, You look at him with sorrow in your eyes.

"Because Peter, you and I both know, your heart still belongs to MJ. You and I both deserve happiness, maybe my happiness if with Peter 3 in his universe?" you say putting his hand on his cheek and giving his forehead a kiss.

Peter 2 just stands there shocked and awkwardly just waiting to go back home. While Peter 3 looks at you with love and adoration. He knew that this opportunity to have you back in his life for a second is not one he was willing to waste, he vowed there that he would protect you.

"Are you sure? Absolutely positive this is what you want? I can't bring you back once it happens" Strange says.

"Absolutely, I'm gonna miss you guys," you say sadly, "Please don't forget him, and Peter, make sure you help them remember you.” You go and hug each of your friends tightly.

Strange completes the spell, you and Peter end up back in his universe, outside an alleyway, you look up and see oscorp building replacing what once was Stark Tower. The few changes you noticed you could get used too. You had lost so much so a fresh start here would do you good.

"You uh ready for your new life or rather continue the life your other self had?" He says grabbing your hand, while placing another on your cheek.

"Yeah," you wipe away the stray tear that fell, smiling up at the man who would become the love of your life in the not so distant future, “I’m excited to start this new life with you.

A/n: hiii I have officially rewritten my first fic. I rewrote this one for the sole reason I didn’t like how I wrote it the first time, it felt rushed and boring. This time I added a bit more umph.

[storytimewithanonwriter]

🏝 Fun in the Sun🏝

TASM! Peter x wife!reader

Y’all, I’m at the beach this week, and all I could think of is a cute couple's beach getaway with Peter! I literally wrote this in a beach chair with a drink in my hand ! Lol It’s a little spicy … it's probably the spiciest I will write. ( and it's not that spicy 😂)I hope you enjoy it!-K

Warning: somewhat spicy, pet names, mentions of food, implied sex, typos, bad writing, and probably many more thing that needs warnings I forgot about.

“ Peter, come on …. One week … just you and me… on the beach… nothing to do ….. The city will be fine! You need to take a damn break. “

“ Love, I can’t. What if something happens? What if there is a...”

“ What if? What if? What if!! Life is full of what-ifs! Peter, it will be ok! One week away, that’s all. The city will be fine. You have to live your life. Remember, It is ok to take the time for Peter Parker stuff! You have to live your life too.” you were fed up. The only time Peter had taken a break ( from Spider-Man)was when you got married. He didn't want to, but you made him! Even then, you didn't go on a honeymoon. He took the day off of your wedding and rehearsal dinner; that was it.

“Fine”

“Really!?!!”

“Yes, we can go on vacation.” You ran over and peppered him with kisses.

After months of persuasion, you finally had convinced him to take a break. You made reservations as soon as he said yes. The day came, and you packed up your car and headed south to Florida. The drive was going to be long but worth it.

“ Love, why are we driving? We could have flown and saved time. Or we could have gone somewhere closer. Just in case I need to come back and help.“ Peter questioned as you pulled off of your street.

“ Ah, you see, bug boy, I know you... That is why I chose Florida. Too far away for you to swing back... And driving is part of the fun, Peter. We get to be stuck in the car for hours together. Listening to good music and podcasts. Playing games and just talking. It’s gonna be great! I call the radio first! Disney sing along it is!”

Peter didn’t know you had the Spotify station pulled up before leaving your apartment.

“ ok … but I get to choose lunch.”

“ Deal”

…

“ Hey now

Hey now

This is what dreams are made of

Hey now

Hey now

This is what dreams are made of

I've got somewhere I belong

I've got somebody to love

This is what dreams are made of

(Hey now...)”

You were belting your heart out. Peter was just smiling at you.

“What???? Why are you judging me!??” You pause the music.

He laughed “ I’m not. I’m thinking how much I love you.”

“ I know you love me. That is why you married me!! “ you laughed. “ BUT!!! If you really really love me, you would sing the duet part… PLEASE!PLEASE !!!PLEASE!!!”

“I love you … but I’m not going to sing .”

“Pete! please!!” You pressed play and turned up the volume.

With a huff, he begins to sing along.

Open your eyes

(This is what dreams are made of)

Shout to the skies

(This is what dreams are made of)

When I see you smiling, I go, "Oh, oh, oh"

Yesterday my life was duller

Now everything's technicolor

By the end of the song, you both were screaming the lyrics. You both burst out into laughter during the last bit of the music.

“ You a great; you know that?” Peter said as he leaned over to kiss your cheek.

“ So, I have been told.” You smiled at your husband.

…

“ Are we there yet? I’m bored .” Peter yawned from the passengers.

You laughed. “About five more hours, Pete. Take a nap. I will be ok.”

“ Love, you have been driving for about 10 hours … Why don’t you let me take over? “

“ Do you need a reminder of the last time you drove “ you questioned.

“ It was my first time driving in years!! Give me a break! …. “

“Petey, your driving was fine… Don’t you remember, your spidey sense was going crazy? Dude, I about had a panic attack watching you. You were so tense! This is supposed to be a relaxing vacation.”

He huffed “ Yeah, your right. Ok, then let’s play a game….I spy with my little eye….” He began.

….

“ Petey, wake up, baby; we are here. I have checked us in. All we have to do is unload and let the relaxation begin!”

Peter fell asleep 20 minutes into the game of I spy. You simply put on your true-crime podcast, and you were set. He tried to keep you company, but he was exhausted. You couldn’t blame him. Peter was always go go go between Spider-Man, work, and being the best husband you could ask for. He always was exhausted.

“ huh… when did I fall asleep? I’m sorry, bug. “

“ it’s ok, Pete. You need the rest. Now, come on!”

You two quickly unpacked the car. Peter’s strength came in handy. You made it in one trip. You quickly changed into your swimsuit and headed out to the balcony to watch the ocean.

“ If I knew you would dress like this the whole week, I would have said yes sooner.” Peter came out behind you and wrapped his arms around you.

“ Peter, stop it ! “ you laughed. You turn to face him and wrap your arms around his neck. Peter kissed you. You deepen the kiss moving your hands up into his hair, and his hands move down to your body. His lips left yours. You gasped as he nipped at your neck.

You exhaled .“Peter, let’s go inside. “

“ I hope you weren’t expecting to go to the beach right away because I have plans for you, bug.” He smirked. You squealed as he picked you up and took you inside.

…

You didn’t make it to the beach the first day. You spent most of the day tangled up in the sheets. You didn’t mind at all. You woke up early the following day to the smell of coffee.

“ Good morning, my love, “ Peter said as he handed you a cup.

“ Morning, baby. You going to let me walk on the beach today?” You smiled.

“ You can walk after yesterday? “ he laughed.

You just shook your head.

“ What?! It’s a genuine question?” he laughed.

You laughed. “ Anyway, I figured we could pack a lunch and spend the day on the beach. Maybe come up and go out for dinner. “

“ Sounds lovely, bug!”

You both got ready and headed to the beach. You spent most of the morning laying out in the sun, relaxing.

“ Hey, love .” Peter looked up from the magazine the resort handed you at check-in.

“ huh?” The waves had almost lulled you to sleep

“I was reading there is a place where we can take surfing lessons. What do you think?”

“ Sure, baby, if you want to go for it! I would love to watch…. I don’t think I’m a strong enough swimmer. “

“ Are you sure? I want to go, but if you ..”

You smiled “ Petey, it’s your vacation too! Not just mine.”

“ but it was your idea. I don’t want….”

“ Peter, go make an appointment with surfing people.”

“ I love you! “ he said as he stood up to head up to the lobby to make the appointment. He kissed you quickly.

“ I know. I love you too !“

…

“ Did you see me?! I caught that wave, and wow! “ Peter was ecstatic when he came in from his lesson.

“ I did; you were great… but I think your ability to stick to things is an unfair advantage. The others in your class didn’t fare as good as you.”

You both laughed a little. So many people in Peter’s surf class had wipeouts. Peter never fell off his board, not once.

“ Man, I want to go out again.”

“ Peter, we are here for the whole week. You can do whatever! I’m great. I have my book and my drink. I am as happy as a lark!”

“ Yeah?”

“ Go! Have fun! You need it !”

Peter kissed you before bouncing away towards the ocean. You smiled. He had been so stressed lately between work and Spider-Man. It was good to see him truly happy.

About an hour and a half later, Peter came back to find you asleep under the umbrella. He laughed.

“ Hey bug, let’s wake up and put more sunscreen on. You don’t want to get burned on the first day.”

“Mmm.. ok .” You sat up half asleep. Peter lovingly rubbed sunscreen on your back.

“ Hey, love bug, you are already getting a lot of sun… you want to head in for a while. Finish your nap?”

“I’m ok. I want to go out in the water for a while… you want to come with me?” You were holding out your hand where Peter could help you up.

“ Of course. I’ll race you! “ Peter took off running

“ HEY! That’s not fair! You cheated ” You came running after him into the water.

…

Peter and you stayed in the water for a long time. You floated and swam. You two play catch with some kiddos that asked you to join them. You were having a great time. Peter finally made you leave when he saw how red you had gotten.

“ I’m fine, Peter! I have been burnt before. I ..” you protested

Peter picked you up. “ I’m taking you in.”

“PETE! Put me down! Put me down! “ you were laughing.

When Peter finally put you down at your spot on the beach, you huffed. You were mad. You help gather the stuff and head up to the room.

When you got to the room, you went straight to the shower. As soon as the hot water hit your skin, you were hissing in pain. You washed off quickly and then entered the bedroom when you were finished. You were very burnt, making you even madder at Peter because he was right. Peter was sitting on the bed with aloe in one hand and after sun lotion in the other.

“ I know you are mad, but...”

“ Shut up. You were right. That's why I'm mad. Help me, please.”

Peter laughed

“ come here, bug.”

....

The next day Peter woke up before you and made breakfast. He set everything on the balcony for a cute breakfast date.

Peter crawled back into bed and kissed your forehead.

“ Good Morning, Bug; I made breakfast. We could watch the sunrise over the water.”

“ You are the best; you know that .” You smiled as you got out of bed.

After breakfast, you both got ready for the day. You had planned a day down at the pier, followed by a trip to a marine animal rehabilitation center.

“Hey, come here! Look,” Peter was still on the balcony.

You walked out to see dolphins swimming.

“ Oh wow!! They are beautiful!”

“ Not as beautiful as my wife, “ Peter said as he kissed you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck “ You know, we don’t have to be at the aquatic center until 3 … we can always go to the pier later… PETER!” you laughed

He didn’t even let you finish your sentence. He picked you up and took you inside

…

The rest of the week was filled with fun and laughs. You spent one day just watching people from the balcony. You laughed as you saw someone chasing an umbrella down the beach. Every evening you took a long walk down the beach. It was perfect.

The day came that you had to leave. You had packed the car the night before. You were lying in bed soaking up the last few minutes of your vacation when Peter rolled over.

“ Y/n, thank you... I needed this. I need a break. It’s hard sometimes balancing Peter Parker stuff and Spider-Man stuff. Thank you for making me take time for myself and time for us. I love you.” He leaned over and kissed you gently.

“ I love you too. “ you smiled.

He sat up “ I thought next year we could go to Disney or California. Or maybe even Seattle! Or Vegas. Or maybe we could go on a cruise. Oh!! Europe!! I would love to go there! Peter 1 was telling me all about his school trip there. I sounded great! Or we could….”

“ Slow down, travel bug! You are going to take another break?!”

“ Yep, as long as I can take them with you!”

[sugars-fluffy-escapes]

Chosen Family

Peter3 x LGBTQ!Reader (Platonic)

SFW; Hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, platonic love

Words: 1646

Summary: After coming out to your immediate family, you find yourself fleeing home and seeking comfort from your best friend, Peter, who sets out to remind you of your worth, and show you that family isn't inherently defined by blood.

Warnings: Discussions of family being anti-LGBTQ+ including implications of cissexism and heterosexism (nothing descriptive, but please do not read if you think it might trigger you. Your wellbeing comes first), unsupportive family, self doubt, crying, implied d*sphoria, swearing, comforting playful tickles courtesy of Peter Parker

DISCLAIMER: This drabble was a request and I felt it was very important that it be the next fic I post. In NO way is this meant to glamorize or make light of situations where coming out does not go well. These situations are real, they're scary, and they can be very dangerous for the person coming out. I hope that this fic can offer comfort to my fellow LGBTQ+ people who don't have acceptance or support from their families. You are not a mistake, you are not a burden, and you are inherently deserving of safety, support, and love, whether you are out or not. This blog is and will always remain a safe space for you. Take care <3 

Peter hadn't been expecting anyone so late in the evening. His ears had been so tuned in to the sound of the rain falling against the fire escape outside of his apartment... so tuned in to the scratching of his pen on his notebook... so tuned in to the silence of the room... so used to the busy sounds of New York in the streets below that the honking of car horns and mundane chatter didn't bother him much. It felt oddly comforting to him.

As he continued writing, cross-legged from his place in the corner of the room, upside down as he stuck to the ceiling, the sudden frantic knocking on his door startled him. He was swiftly sent falling to the floor with a loud thud, groaning at the impact of his body against the hardwood and not-so-soft rug.

With a sharp exhale, he shook off the pain and jumped up, rushing himself to the door when he heard the knocking a second time. Upon gently swinging open the door, his face contorted with worry. "Y/N...?"

There you stood, soaked from the rain, shivering head to toe, holding a suitcase in one hand, another bag in the other, with the straps of a backpack visible on your shoulders. "Hi, Peter. Sohorry for the surprise. I... didn't know where else to go..." You were trying hard to stay in good spirits, but your laugh was hollow, and try as you might to keep the corners of your mouth curled into a smile, they'd fight their way back down.

"Y/N- don't... don't apologize," Peter insisted. "What happened?"

"I... I came out... to my family..." 

That was all Peter needed to hear to understand that things had not gone well. He could see your red and puffy eyes, still glassy from what must have been hours of crying. Without hesitation, he ushered you into his apartment, helping you with your bags and offering you the privacy of the bathroom to take a warm shower and change into dry clothes.

While you were in the bathroom, Peter set to work preparing the his room with fresh blankets and pillows, before putting the kettle on to boil, intent on making your favorite hot drink. After he'd gotten the mugs from the cupboard (and after nearly dropping one), Peter walked down to the bathroom. His hand raised to knock on the door, but only managed to get one tap on the wood with his knuckle before the door had opened, causing you two to jump at each others' presence.

Despite your spiked heartbeat, you let out a chuckle for the first time that day. "Peheter!You scared the hell out of me!"

"Sohorry! I... just wanted to let you know that you're taking my room for the night." The tiniest smile formed on Peter's lips as he swiftly interrupted what he knew would be protest on your part. "Ah ah ah! Nope, don't you start. Don't even."

"I didn't even say anything yet!"

"You were gonna insist on taking the couch, weren't you, bug?" That question had you closing your mouth and exhaling through your nose.

"And what about it, Parker?"

"I will be sleeping on the couch. You're my best friend and my guest, you get the bed." 

You quickly concluded that this was an argument you were most definitely not going to win, so you conceded, but not before you reached up and ruffled Peter's hair. "HEY!" His exclamation made you grin, but he could still see the pain and hurt in your eyes, and his own smile slowly fell.

"Peter...?"

"Do you want to talk about it?" Your friend's eyes were soft, brows knit ever so slightly. "You don't have to if you don't want to... But I... I'm here to listen... if you need someone to listen..."

Peter's words were genuine, and you could feel your throat tighten with the urge to cry again. As much as your mind had been telling you not to, as much as your mind had been echoing the horrid words of everything your family had said to you, you nodded, lips pressed together while you fought to hold back your tears.

It would be another half an hour before the two of you sat down together in the living room. Your eyes were puffier than before, and Peter knew the crying had continued in the thirty minutes he'd been finishing up the drinks. He set the two mugs down on the coffee table with utmost caution and care, before using one of his web shooters to grab a box of tissues from another corner in the room.

"Dihid I ever tell you that I accidentally launched stuff toward my face a couple times when I was still mastering these things?" You graciously took the tissues, the quietest laugh leaving your lips. Peter plopped down onto the couch and turned to look at you. "Alright. Whenever you feel ready, you have the floor. I'm all ears."

With a shaky inhale that was far too shallow to count as a proper deep breath, you began to tell Peter everything. From your initial announcement to your family, to the expressions on their faces, to the horrific things they'd said, to how it made you feel and how it had shattered a part of you. Peter listened to every word, and felt his heart ache when you accepted the embrace he offered you, and sobbed into his shirt.

When the tears had stopped, and the mugs were empty, you rested your head on Peter's shoulder. He looked over at you, having noticed you blankly staring at the wall far ahead of you.

"Y/N...?"

"I couldn't keep doing it, Peter... I couldn't keep pretending to be someone I wasn't... It ate away at me..."

"I know it did, Y/N... I know..."

"Knowing that I don't even have support from my family... My own family... Is blood really thicker than water like they say it is...?"

Peter offered his hand to you, and gently squeezed it. "No... Not always... But... chosen family can be."

"I don't even have one of those-"

"You have me," Peter stated. "We've been friends for years and that won't change. I'm here for the long haul, bugs."

"P-Promise...?"

"I promise. Swearin' on my spider suit. You're stuck with me, Y/N."

The faintest traces of a smile appeared on your face, and upon seeing Peter's confused expression, you fought the urge to grin, wiping the remains of your tears on your sleeve. "More stuck than the fifty times you've gotten stuck on the ceiling?"

"Fifty- FIFTY?? It was not that many."

"You're right! I've merely counted the time that I've witnessed it. The true count's probably three hundred-twenty or something- PFFHAA!" Your sudden exclamation had been the result of Peter squeezing your side.

"Wanna run that number by me one more time, smartass?"

"Peheter," you warned, unable to suppress your giggles.

"PeEetEeRrrr~" Your friend repeated back mockingly. "I think it's about time I got a real good laugh outta you. Don't you think so?"

Though you let out a yelp when your best friend pulled your torso across his lap, you made no effort to sit up, instead opting for half-heartedly shielding your sides while still openly giggling.

"You're really bad at hiding how giddy this makes you."

"Fuhuhuckihing shuhuhut ihihit, arachnid boy!"

"Annnnnnnd strike threee!" Peter declared, moving your hands aside with ease and gently clawing at your ribs. "THEHERE'S THE CACKLE!"

"PEHEHEHETEHEHERRRR!"

You couldn't recall the last time you had laughed so freely and loudly. There was little to say as Peter began laughing with you, the corners of his eyes scrunching up with mirth. A triumphant, slightly condescending giggle echoed from your throat when you successfully caught the one and only Spider-Man off guard by gently digging your fingers into his sides. "SHIHIHIIT! NOHOPE! OH NO YOU DON'T~"

The giggling man quickly gained the upper hand in your short-lived tickle fight by trapping your legs in his grip and aiming for the spots around your knees. By the time the two of you had grown tired, your core ached from laughing so much, but for that moment, some of your heartache had been eased by the love and support of your closest friend.

"Youhou should know by now that I always win tickle fights." Peter teased with an impish smile.

A playful, dramatic scoff was your response to his comment. "I wonder why? Not like you cheat with your super powers."

"Nohohot my fault the spidey senses kick in!"

Your mind and body were exhausted from the day, so you opted to retire to bed for the night, but not before hugging Peter tightly and thanking him for supporting you.

"Bugs, it's what chosen family does," he stated. He pressed his lips together as he contemplated whether or not to ask you what he'd been wanting to.

"You good, Peter...?"

"Y-Yeah, uh... well... Aunt May's stopping by in the morning... Would you, maybe... wanna talk...? To her...? When she does?" His voice was soft and inquisitive, and he patiently awaited your answer.

Peter didn't need to ask the question with much detail or elaboration for you to know what he meant. "Y-Yeah... actually... I think that would be good..."

"Great! You're like her second kid, you know."

After saying goodnight to each other, both of you settled in for the night. Though you had no idea how the next several months would be, and though the pain of how your family had reacted to your coming out was still fresh, you could trust that Peter and his support would remain a constant in your life, and that thought made you feel a little less scared about not knowing what was ahead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back into the writing game I go!!! 🥳 I have missed y'all so much and I hope this drabble will bring comfort /gen /lh

I'm feeling better and more inspired 🥹

~ Ushu 💖 (/p)

[ajvocals43]

By Day & Night, Part 1

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, violence, trauma, and general angst (Idk all the things, I’m sorry), slight swearing

A/N: I’m lazy okay? The summary is on the masterlist cause I don’t want to have to keep finding it to post it over and over. 

 The cold air was biting at my fingers, face and toes, even underneath the seemingly 500 layers I had on; but I guess it was fitting. The weather matched the bitterness that seemed to be eating at my soul after losing the one person I still had in this world. You never realize how much you miss someone until they're gone. Even if he was working all the time, trying to make a name for himself and his genius, he was still there when it counted. He might have been buried in the computer all the time but he still made time for me when it counted. So maybe he didn't go to every school event or recital, but he was there when I needed him to be. So he didn't make it to all the school events, but he was there to help me with my homework (not that I needed it without familial genius), or, when I lost one of the two other people who actually meant something to me. No, he wasn't like other parents, but I wouldn't have asked for it to be any other way. We had our own bond that was special to us and that's all that matters. Mattered. So maybe Tony Stark wasn't the perfect father, but he was mine. 

It seemed impossible that he wasn't here with me anymore. I couldn't believe it. Even staring down at the piece of stone with his name carved into it, it didn't feel real. There was no way that this is what was left of the most important person in my life. This…piece of stone amidst 500 others that look almost exactly the same. This couldn't be him. 

I felt the tears prick at my eyes again. I had tried not to cry anymore, it had been over a month since the police showed up at my door, saying there had been an accident at the lab he was working at. Over a month since my whole world stopped. They say that there are 7 stages of grief but it doesn't feel like that to the people experiencing it. It's difficult to describe how it feels and really, I've blocked out a lot of what happened after that one moment. I remember feeling numb. And I remember crying. What else could I do? I never knew my mother and I didn't have any siblings. My dad was everything to me. Always had been. 

And now the tears were freefalling again. In the time since my dad died, I don't remember doing much else. Crying and sleeping. The rest was just a blur. A blur of questions. Questions about school and living arrangements. Funeral arrangements. I didn't know how much more I could take. 

I'm not sure how long I spent standing there. Crying. Time blurred because it all circled back to that disbelief. Though it seemed I wasn't alone in my misery. There was someone else who had joined me. Well, not really. He was a few feet away and across the row from me, staring at a lost one of his own. He appeared as miserable as I'm sure I did. I’m not sure when he showed up but I didn't think much of it. At least, not until it happened 3 more times. 

 Sometimes he was there before me, sometimes after. But no matter what, without fail, he was always there, right across the row, not 20 feet away. He was tall, with dark, tousled hair, and a frame that I couldn't describe very well under the thick, black overcoat that he was wearing. And he kept coming back. We never said anything to each other. I don't even know who he was coming to see. All I know is that he was there. Every time. No matter that the weather got colder, and the snow piled up until you almost couldn't see the headstones. He was always there. 

 On this particularly icy and miserable day, I had planned ahead enough to bring hot cocoa. But before I left this morning, I decided to grab an extra cup. Maybe this time, my visit, or maybe even his, didn't have to be so miserable. When I went this time, no one was there at first. So I went over and stood in front of the headstone as usual. It seemed I was there forever, not that I had anywhere else to be. I hadn't gone to school fall term because it was too much to try and juggle that and all the stuff with my dad; and today was my day off from work. I had all the time in the world to sit here in my despair, wishing he was still here. Though I was there so long, I almost thought the stranger wouldn't show up again when out of the corner of my eye, I saw him approach his usual spot. 

Though now I realized, this probably wasn't the best idea. 

There was a good chance that he probably wanted to visit whoever he was visiting in peace. 

Though for some reason, that didn't stop me from calling out to him, “Cocoa?” 

It must have taken a moment for him to realize that I was talking to him because he looked around for a minute before looking at me in surprise, with an expression that said, “me?”

I nodded and called again, “You're always out here and it's pretty nasty out today. I made it earlier this afternoon but it's still hot if you want some.” 

He paused for a minute, seemingly in some kind of mini-argument with himself before nodding slightly and walking in my direction. I quickly fished out the second cup and began to fill it with the steaming liquid. He moved quickly because by the time I had the cap screwed back on my thermas he was almost to me. 

I held out the cup for him and he accepted it with a quiet “Thanks”. Then he paused, and stared down at it for a second. He was a lot cuter up close. From here I could see his strong jaw and dark eyes. Even with the red rings around them, there was no denying how attractive he was. 

Tears started forming in his eyes and I quickly rushed to say, “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, it was just cold and-” 

“No, it's okay.” He interrupted softly. A small smile made its way onto his face as a single tear fell. “I just… I haven't had this in a long time. Not since…” he trailed off. 

“Something to do with the person you're visiting here?” I asked. 

“Yeah. She loved this stuff.” I could hear the fondness in his voice. And the pain. 

“Who was she?” he looked up at me, somewhat surprised I'd asked and I hurried to continue, “I’m so sorry. That was really personal and you probably don't want to talk about it.” 

He was silent for a moment before answering, “She was my girlfriend.” 

“I'm sorry.” I could tell that this was hard for him. “You must miss her.” Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. 

“Yeah.” he sniffled before he looked up and made eye contact with me. “What about you? Who are you visiting? If you don't mind my asking.” 

“My father.” I said a little more shakily than I would've liked. 

“I'm sorry.” What else was there to say really? Neither of us really knew each other and currently, all we had in common was that we lost people we loved. 

We fell into a strangely comfortable silence after that. Standing there, staring out at the foggy outline of the city and drinking out hot cocoa. It was starting to get later and with that, colder. The wind picked up and even the hot drinks couldn't keep me warm anymore. Though I didn't seem to be alone in that. I was shivering, apparently too loudly because he looked down at me and seemed to take notice. 

“We should probably head back.” He said. 

“What?” I asked, surprised. 

He seemed to notice and quickly continued, “It’s freezing out here and if we stay out any longer, we’re going to start losing body parts. So let's be done for the day. Go home and come back tomorrow.” 

“That's probably a good idea.” I bent down to grab my bag that had at one point held my lunch in it. Once I had it, we started trudging our way through the snow, out of the park. It was silent again, save for the whistling of the wind and the sound of our boots clumping in the snow.  When we got to the front gate, we paused. I realized we didn't even know each other’s names. 

“I’m Y/n, by the way.” I held my hand out. 

He shook it and said, “Peter.” 

“Well… I guess I'll see you around, Peter.” 

“I guess so, Y/n.” 

And with that, we went our separate directions. Huh, that was…not terrible. To be honest, it was probably one of the most positive interactions I’d had since my dad…. Nope. Still can't say it. 

But, Peter was nice. And that meant that today, for the first time in a long time, wasn't absolutely horrible. 

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Theoretically ~ P.P.

A/n: And another request!!

Request: “Male reader x Andrew Pete, After a long day of thinking about it and wondering if he and Peter were ready, reader proposes?” By anon

Word Count: 1800+

MASTERLIST

It had started slowly, but Y/n had realized after it had been going on for a while so it had felt sudden and startling.

First there had been the exact moment kisses between them had become casual. They weren't startling and didn't make him jump, heart racing. Peter would be on his way out the door and would say goodbye, leaving a kiss on Y/n's mouth very quickly before dipping. And that felt right. He'd sink into the feeling, his chest warm, but it wasn't buzzing and burning like it used to be.

Then it was the increased PDA. Peter had always been repressed and reserved, hating attention and confrontation unless he had his mask on. But they'd gotten slowly into the habit of having little to no personal space, and being generally touchy. One day, Peter didn't take Y/n's hand just "to show him something" and then drop it when someone looked over. Another day Y/n stared lovingly as long as he wanted and Peter never made a joke about it. After that, Peter lay his head on Y/n's shoulder on the subway and sighed, relaxed. When they kissed, grinning, on the side walk waiting for the light to change for them Y/n knew it was okay to do that more often.

Those were followed by the casual way Peter referred to Y/n as his boyfriend. Even spoke about "his boyfriend." Before he'd said "partner," brushing it away that he was dating someone of the same gender. He wouldn't use Y/n's name even when people knew who he was talking about. And then one day he introduced Y/n as his boyfriend - something he'd heard later from MJ.

The day it clicked was when Peter got caught up in an especially rough back and forth with Doc Oc, who had kidnapped Y/n in an attempt to hurt Peter. It wasn't the first time it had happened, and the panic afterward had been tangible, but Peter didn't implode like he so often had. He was focused on Y/n, tending to him and reassuring him he was safe. And he didn't blame himself or hate on himself or push Y/n away. It was... startling, honestly, when Peter wrapped around him instead and whispered a simple, "I'm sorry this Spider-Man stuff caught up to you."

Y/n ran his hands through his boyfriend's hair, and realized that he was home to Peter, the same way Peter was home to him. That they couldn't have denied each other even if they wanted to. Even if they'd have tried. They both knew it.

And he smiled, realizing that maybe they hadn't said it yet, but this probably meant they were in love after all. And they'd been in love for a while, so much more than a young romance. They'd be together for a very long time.

"I knew what I was getting into, Peter," he reassured softly. "I know we'll always figure it out. Together." He sighed. "Plus, now you know how I feel every day."

Peter nodded. "That's fair."  And that was it. No argument, no anger, no spiral.

The confession of love had followed soon after.

When Y/n got a succulent and Peter started calling it Jimmy, and referring to them as Jimmy's dad, something settled deeply into Y/n's chest. He wanted to do this forever. He wanted to be with Peter for the rest of his life.

That was a terrifying thought.

Peter had been getting better. A little more grounded, and much more experienced. Every day he was softer with himself. Every day he opened up more, and let Y/n help when he could. Every day he smiled more, laughed more. Every day he showed Y/n off more, being proud they were together and being loud about it too. They moved in together, and after that everything was theirs - not individually Peter's or Y/n's. Like they never had to worry about moving out or going separate ways or breaking up. Like this space was theirs and it always would be, even it it was a different space.

It was the teasing look in May's eyes as she grinned at Y/n over the cup of tea she was drinking that was the last straw. She put her cup down and in a gentle voice, began, "You want to ask me something?"

Y/n blushed. "You saw through me then."

May raised an eyebrow, her smile teasing. "In the years you've been with Peter, your worst fear as been time and again proved to be imposing on me. You only ever come by when I invite you, with Peter, or explicitly to help with something. I've never seen you ask to come over completely unprompted with nothing else in mind but spending time together." She leans back in her chair. "Not that I'm complaining."

Rubbing the back of his neck, he got sheepish. "I'm sorry May. I don't mean to be around so little."

She waves her hand back and forth, and if to scatter the words in the air. "Don't he silly. I don't take it personally. You should come over more often though." She took another sip of her drink. "But that's not what you're here to talk about."

Y/n swallows hard, interlacing his fingers so he can hold onto something as he begins. "You know Peter so well," he began. May nodded; Y/n had come to her asking advice several times now. "I was thinking... maybe..." He cleared his throat, nervous. Once he said this to May it was in stone. Was he ready? Was Peter? "Do you think Peter is the marriage type?"

May froze, eyes wide. Y/n went solid and still as stone, only breathing again when May's shock flipped to glee. "You're thinking of proposing."

Okay. This was a good sign. "I was thinking about it," Y/n said slowly. "But I don't know if Peter would... want to. Or if it's too soon. Or if there's too much going on already with the whole Spider-Man thing." He shrugged, running his hand through his hair.

May nodded again, mulling Y/n's concern over. Every day Y/n thanked god she actually considered things rather than just jumping to "I want to see my boy married" like some aunts had before. It was a relief to know he could trust what she would say next.

"Have you talked to him about it?"

And sometimes Y/n wished she wasn't quite so good at what she did.

"Well-"

May cocked an eyebrow, her expression turning into something akin to 'you know what I'm going to say.' And it was true. Y/n did. He let her say it anyway. "I can't speak for my nephew, Y/n."

"I know," he sighed. "But I don't want to go in blind or jump the gun or scare him away-"

May chuckled. "That boy has seen more than I could even imagine." She paused for a second. "Normal things do scare him more than any villain in a suit could. But he's better about it than he used to be. And if you eased him into it, or took your shot, and we're ready for some possible rejection and not take it personally, it could be fine."

And there it was. The real reason Y/n was stressed. Because sure, Peter might not be ready, but if he wasn't and he ran and Y/n was crushed it could lead to the end of their relationship. They could both react very poorly...

This would mean Y/n would have to do it somewhere privately. It would have to be very low pressure, open minded. Understanding. Gentle. And it was a little heartbreaking that was the case. Y/n wanted to be a little loud, a little dramatic. And he would have to let that go.

May reached over, taking Y/n's hand. "It also doesn't have to be now. It should be when you're ready. The moment will come, and you'll know. You should only do it then." Her gaze was so soft and patient that Y/n could only absorb what she was saying directly into his soul. "Don't try to make a perfect moment. Let one come."

That advice stayed with Y/n until the moment came. He thought it had a few times but then it wouldn't quite pan out, or something would interrupt them or they'd need to stopper what they were doing and table it for later - when they moment was gone. But one day they were laying in bed, out of breath and grinning after Peter had stolen Y/n’s favorite jacket and Y/n had tried to take it back by force. Peter was much stronger than Y/n of course, and had plenty abilities to overwhelm him, but decided to play fair and shenanigans had turned into raucous laughter that had stolen both of their breath away.

Y/n looked at Peter and something warm and sweet touch him. May’s words came back to him full force in that moment and he was stunned to realize-

This was the moment.

“Will you marry me?” Peter turned, eyes wide, and immediately Y/n panicked. “Maybe not know. We don’t have to say now. But maybe one day.” His voice got dry when suddenly Peter took him by the face, kissing him.

The kiss was king and deep and passionate. Y/n felt something wet ion his cheek and realized Peter was crying.

When it ended, Peter pressed their foreheads together. “You’ve been so patient with me. I know you have. I know I’m not… easy. But I’m yours, and that was always enough for you.” He chuckled, seeming near giddy. Y/n felt his throat close with how much hope swelled in his chest. “I would love to maybe you. We can figure exactly when and how. Is that okay? If we don’t know exactly when?”

Y/n melted, raising a hand to run over Peter’s jaw. “I would marry you anywhere, any day, in any way that we could muster. Even if no one was there. Even if no one knew.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “You cheese ball.”

“Your cheese ball.” Y/n beamed. “For the rest of our lives?” It was timid, hopeful.

Peter sighed. “For the rest of our lives.”

Neither would ask more than that.

-

Male Readers: @ravenpuff-oli @sortzz @fadedver

[bruisedboys]

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

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

fem!reader 0.7k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stupid pavement,” he says.

You giggle and hide your face in his chest again.

-

[lxinesux]

Toxic Headcanons for BandAU!Peter: Lovers to Rivals to Enemies to Lovers Edition

That song he wrote and preformed for you while you were together? He’s singing that to random girls he brings on stage. He knows people will film it, that you’ll see it. He tries to find your reaction to see if you still care.

He follows your public sm profiles on burner accounts, uses your few mutual friends to spy on ur finsta. He wants to keep tabs.

All of his bandmates know that he’s still in love with you. He doesn’t date anyone for more than 6 months at a time. They try to put their foot down, thinking they’ll be different. They’re always disappointed. He sometimes has to push them to have the self respect to break up with him.

He cannot be alone for longer than a few weeks. He’s always been that way, fame just made it a lot easier to rebound.

Anyone you’re publicly linked with, he’s sneak dissing. Whether doing a sarcastic aside on stage, implying they’re overrated on a podcast, or referencing them in a song. He’s always been talented and manipulative when he wants to be; it’s one of those things that you would be accused of overreacting to, bc he’s being subtle.

You hook up whenever you see each other. You hate yourself for it. It doesn’t matter if either of you are dating other people. If you’re at the same location, he seeks you out and you follow him wherever. It’s hatefucking and you both usually leave with teeth marks, scratching, and bruises.

But sometimes, especially if he can get you somewhere secluded and private, he fucks you like you’re still together. He’s slow, kissing you all over. “I love you, I’m sorry, I want you back, please…” All whispered into your skin as takes his time taking you apart. Youve known him long enough that while he means it in the moment, he wont change.

Secretly tries to baby trap you almost everytime. Not enough to stop you from taking Plan B or tampering with your birth control, but enough that he finishes inside. Gets way too excited whenever there’s pregnancy rumors and the timelines add up. Gets real cagey if they don’t.

Aunt May has flat out refused to have anyone else be her daughter in law. She loves Peter to pieces but is able to recognize that leaving you was the worst mistake he could’ve made.

When you’re asked about him in interviews and don’t immediately say anything awful about him, he gets hopeful. He really can’t live without you. And you can’t completely cut him off, even though you’ve tried. It’s insane that you’ve known each other most of your lives, and now can’t stand the thought of the other.

[warrenwrites]

Peter Parker Masterlist

Prototype (1.1K) Summary: You get yourself into a sticky situation when you mess with a faulty web-shooter. Peter takes full advantage of the opportunity.

Low of Me () Summary: You instinctively flinch when Peter’s hand comes to close to your sides. Frankly, he’s offended by the insinuation.

Web Design () Summary: 

Sidekick () Summary:

[crimsonbubble]

Dom! Miguel O'Hara and Dom! Peter Parker both sucking f! reader's titties and making her cum untouched and making her brain go dumb dumb 🫢🫢

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, lactation kink, praise, nipple play, double fingering (it'll make sense when you read it) *not proofread, just pure horny

[brain went places... also the original idea was that reader was pregnant but it made little to no differenc so i removed that detail-] reader is married to miguel. peter and mj (shes not mentioned in this fic tho-) are readers and miguels honorary spouses. I just love poly fics <33

MINORS DNI!!

the sounds of your slick cunt being fucked open on two sets of fingers fills your ears and the stuffy air of your bedroom.

the three of you use mayday's nap time as a short break to finally satisfy the curdling need for a pleasurable release. Peter pulled off your nipple with a heaving breath, his fingers curling up deliciously against your good spots.

Miguel pulled off soon after, pushing peters palm further against your clit as he also pushed Peter's fingers into your sweet spot. the pressure made you dizzy, your cunt is swollen and sticky, gushing around their fingers as he nipped and suckled around your leaking breasts.

Miguel kissed along your shoulder, his eyes fixated on how much milk you were leaking and how much your pussy is drooling around their fingers.

"there you go, honey. let it all out, make a mess, c'mon." Peter kissed up your throat, nipping your supple skin with his teeth. you threw your head back against the pillows, your hips stuttering up against their hands.

"need a little more, I'm so fucking close-" your voice is shaky as the pleasure leaves you pliant and ditzy. Miguel presses harder into peters hand and your body shudders. "god you're so fucking gorgeous, mi niña bonita."

Miguel lets out a groan muffled against your neck as he forced Peter's hands to curl up against your spot even more. Peter kisses down your chest, taking your sore and leaky nipple into his mouth again. the warmth of his mouth on your skin, the pressure of both of their hands stuffed into your cunt and pressing into every part of you that makes you writhe, sets you off.

you all but hid your face in the crook of Miguel's neck, biting into him as you were launched headfirst into your blissful orgasm. you don't even want to think about the mess you made of yourself, their hands and the bed, but you can tell it was a lot.