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gaiathemexicanbeauty · 2 years

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1 AM | peter parker x male!reader

are we surprised, its more marvel (i promise that’s not all i write)

and this is another thing i posted this on wattpad when i was in like middle school lol aka 4 years ago so don’t expect TOO much out of it

word count: 1.7k

no warnings! this is pure fluff save for some suggestive content at the very end lol and there are some mentions of homophobia and coming out if that needs a warning!

shameless promo for my ask box! requests are open! <;33

also! i am aware that this may not be what everyone’s coming out experience is like, but this was kind of what mine was like! but to anyone who had a negative and/or toxic experience with their coming out, just know that you are loved and appreciated no matter what! my page is an lgbtq+ safe space forever! <33

"Mind if I come over?" "Peter Benjamin Parker, are you aware that it is currently 12:30 and its pitch black out?" Actually, (Y/M/N) was being dramatic. The night sky of New York City was very aesthetically pleasing with light coming from the buildings surrounding his apartment complex and the white speckles with a hint of moonlight. But the light shining through his apartment's window wasn't something he wanted to wake up to after the one and only Peter Parker. If you even considered pressing on his contact number after 10:00, you were asking for a death wish. "Yes, I am. But I'm in need of advice from my favorite person in the world, my shnookums, my baby-" "Ok, Ok, just get over here." (Y/M/N) hears Peter feign a girly giggle before hanging up. He collapses on his bed, closing his eyes and giving a quiet sigh. There was no point in getting comfortable when only his first gay crush in the world was going to be in his room. Just like all the time. He settles on his side, turning on his bedside lamp and putting on his glasses before running a hand through his hair. He starts to scroll through his social media, posting teasing rants about Peter keeping him up.

(Y/M/N) moves to his window by the fire escape. Peter slips in swiftly and throws a backpack on (Y/M/N)'s bed. "Make yourself at home, asshole." he says as the brunette exhales heavily and collapses onto (Y/M/N)’s bed. "Ok, ok. I'm sorry I woke you up at midnight, I'll buy you lunch or something during school today so you aren't grumpy." Peter sighs. "Thank you." (Y/M/N) says with a smug smile. He notices a small tint of pink on Peter's cheeks and shakes his head at the train of thought he was having; that wasn't it, that was just the lighting of his lamp and the city lights outside. "Whatever. Can I change in your closet this time?" Peter says, taking off his mask. (Y/M/N) was taken aback only the slightest. If he remembered correctly, Peter would instantly strip once the window and shades were closed. "Sure, but what's up? Heroes shouldn't be so embarrassed of little things like changing in front of their best friend." he says with a smirk, hiding any evidence of hesitance. "I-I know, but I just want to change without you being a Peeping Tom." Peter pouts as he steps into (Y/M/N)'s closet with his backpack. He waits in silence, the only sound being rustling clothes in his closet. He tries to distract himself with the view of the dim lights just outside his window. He then checks his clock. 12:39.

The rustling stops and Peter steps out in plaid pajama pants and a plain white t-shirt. "So what do you need to talk about that is so urgent?" (Y/M/N) says, hugging his knees. He holds in the urge to laugh or smile when Peter starts to squirm slightly and his ears flush red. "Y-You remember when you came out to me, right? About being…gay?" he starts, saying the last part as if it was a foreign word to him. (Y/M/N) smiles, surprised that Peter was so hesitant about the topic. "Yeah, of course." "How’d you do it again?" Peter grins, giving (Y/M/N) a look that says he remembers but he wants to hear him tell the story. (Y/M/N) groans softly at the memory of the awkward moment but smiles widely. “My pleasure."

"I'm gay!" "What?!" (Y/M/N) stares down at his lap before shutting off the car's stereo that was currently blasting Queen. He had been picking Peter up from his after-school clubs after the brunette had finally gotten tired of taking the long, hot bus ride home. Peter had just gotten in the car and had immediately taken charge of the radio as he usually did. "Hey-!" "I said I'm gay!" Peter goes still and looks at (Y/M/N). They sit in silence, the humming of the heating system breaking the silence only slightly. "R-Really?" "Yeah, I-I've known for a while now. I-I just didn't know how to tell you." Quiet. "Well..." Peter starts, clearing his throat. (Y/M/N) can already picture it: Peter hanging out with him less and less, Peter letting the more ignorant crowds of the student body beat on him with their terrible words when they found out one by one- "I'm glad you trust me enough to tell me. It doesn’t change how I see you and it never will. I love you, (Y/M/N).” (Y/M/N) looks up and meets Peter's eyes: there’s a genuine tenderness in his eyes that he had never seen from anyone but his own family. Nothing like he'd imagined. (Y/M/N) smiles and feels tears sliding down his cheeks, trying to wipe them away as they come. "Aaahh, come on, don't cry. Come on, right here." Peter says stretching out his arms. (Y/M/N) gives a sad sort of laugh as he hugs the brunette sitting next to him, tight and warm. He felt safe and so so warm, ready to give him his whole world. If only Peter would actually do it.

“God, that was SO embarrassing. I couldn’t have chosen a worse time to tell you that. Next time you think I’m gonna say something out of the blue like that, slap me.” (Y/M/N) says with a slight flush of embarrassment on his cheeks before Peter lands a gentle smack on (Y/M/N)’s cheek. The two of them erupt into a fit of laughter, (Y/M/N) giving Peter a light shove with a “you suck”. (Y/M/N)'s eyes drift to his clock. 12:50. "So...god, this is embarrassing, I, um..." (Y/M/N) waits patiently, watching Peter squirm nervously. "If you're going to confess your undying love for me, just kiss me, you fool!" he says dramatically, flopping himself onto Peter. "Shut up and get off me! This is serious!" he replies with a stupid grin on his face. "Then get it over with!" (Y/M/N) says and sits on the side of his bed. Peter takes a beat before turning to look at the boy next to him. "H-How did you know you were gay...?" (Y/M/N) goes still at the question. He was ready to say "I just knew." but that wasn’t the whole truth. He tried to think of an answer, trying not to keep Peter waiting too long. "This is gonna sound weird, but you know how you feel when you get a rush? Like when you're doing something bad and you're free to do it, no consequences at all?" "Kinda, I guess." "That's sort of the feeling you get when you know you're gay." (Y/M/N) says, shrugging. "At least, that's how I felt." Peter nods as he takes in all the information. It's quiet for a bit.

"What if....what if I kind of get that feeling all the time?" "Welcome to the club." (Y/M/N) laughs as Peter punches his arm playfully. "But seriously, if that's how you feel, just tell me." he says smiling at Peter. The brunette looks at (Y/M/N) with a look of determination but immediately looks away when he catches him trying to hide his dorky grin and fails miserably. "I'm gay." (Y/M/N) imitates a party kazoo causing Peter to burst out laughing. His cheeks are red in embarrassment as (Y/M/N) starts singing 'We Are The Champions' way off-key. "Alright, enough. I have a really important question to ask you-" "I WILL marry you, Peter Parker!" “OH MY GOD, SHUT UP!" Peter shouts, hitting (Y/M/N) with a pillow. The two imitate girly giggles as they hit each other with pillows like they were in some cheesy teen movie. After the two of them finish goofing off, Peter goes silent. "Ok, now that we're strong gay men again, tell me what else you need before I go back to sleep." (Y/M/N) says, tilting his head slightly. Peter doesn't look at him before pointing at (Y/M/N)'s bedside lamp. "T-Turn it o-off."

(Y/M/N) takes a bit before hesitantly flipping the switch to turn off his lamp. They're enveloped in darkness, city lights shining dimly on their faces. He tries to stay casual when Peter sits closer, arms touching. "S-So whats up?" (Y/M/N) says, mentally slapping himself for stuttering even the slightest. "I want you to kiss me." It's silent for one more time that night. "I-I've only ever kissed a girl before. I-I want to know what it’s like t-to kiss a boy." Peter says in almost a whisper. Silence again. (Y/M/N) analyzes everything in his head. Him? Kiss THE Peter Parker who also happened to be THE Spider-Man? For the first time that night, Peter looks at the clock. 12:55. "Let's do it." Peter blushes as he looks at (Y/M/N) who is somewhat blushing himself. "Ok..." “But first, you have to get closer." A small squeak leaves Peter's mouth as (Y/M/N) swiftly places Peter in his lap. They both feel each other's breath on their skin, only a few inches away from each other. "If you wanna stop at any point, just pat my shoulder." (Y/M/N) whispers, seeing Peter's red ears and he can’t help the smile on his face when the brunette scrunches his nose. "Oh my God, don’t say it like that, you're making it sound like we're going to bang." How could he act so normal when he was seconds away from kissing his best friend?

"Just kiss me and-" (Y/M/N)'s lips cut him off, making Peter give a small, muffled grunt. They're lips surprisingly move in sync even if this was new ground for Peter. He tries to control himself, already feeling that rush he felt when he just looked at (Y/M/N). The feeling that deep down, he knew that he'd always wanted to do this with him. Peter is about to go a little farther when (Y/M/N) pulls away, exhaling heavily. Peter pants softly, his mind fuzzy. He sees the clock: 12:59. "So? Good enough?" Peter looks at (Y/M/N), his wet lips slightly swollen from the kiss. His heart thumps as he slowly peels off his top and softly throws it aside. (Y/M/N) marvels over Peter's body, his skin, everything that wasn't covered by clothing. "I don't want to sleep. I just want to do that." (Y/M/N) feels his cheeks go hot. It wasn't sex but it was something kinda better. "Whatever you want." (Y/M/N) glances at the clock for one quick second before Peter kisses him again, his fingers already traveling up his shirt. 1:00 a.m.

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lily-lilac · 7 years

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tom and his cute lil vocabulary

#tom holland #peter parker #spiderman #spiderman homecoming #smhc #smhc cast #tom holland x reader #peter parker x reader #tom holland video #thomas stanley holland #peter benjamin parker #celebrity #male celebrity #video #funny video #celebrity interviews

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hadesrise · 2 years

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𝗦𝗘𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗗 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗦.

summary ➳ losing your peter felt like you lost a part of yourself. you’re numb every day and didn’t know why you were still living, until you got pulled into another universe and everything changed.

pairings ➳ tasm!peter parker x spiderman!male reader (main), tom’s peter parker x variant!male reader

warnings ➳ NO WAY HOME SPOILERS, ANGST, it’s honestly full of angst, mentions of death, in another life universe trope, sprinkles of fluff (tiniest bit), reader has a variant, reader having a lil’ bit of gen-z humor, emotional and mental breakdowns, THERE’S BARELY A FLUFF

author’s note ➳ THERE’S A MAJOR NWH SPOILERS. get the hell outta here if you haven’t watched it yet. read at your own risk. i may or may not write a part 2, idk yet 😬

Setting the roses and spiderlily flowers on your boyfriend’s grave, you trace the ‘Peter Benjamin Parker’ carved on his perfectly cleaned gravestone despite being there for almost eleven years. You always took care of it, thinking and pretending it was Peter even though the cold stone is just there to remind you and anyone who walked past that it’s Peter Parker who laid six feet under.

It’s silly, but you hope that by taking care of his grave, you’re taking care of him too somewhere in the afterlife. That he feels you still trying to take care of him.

Your empty eyes stared at the gravestone, reading the ‘beloved fiancé and son’ carved under his name and resisted the urge to destroy it by clenching your fists. He didn’t get to be your husband. You didn’t get to be his. There’s still a painful memory of him jumping up and down happily when you answered yes plagued in your mind. A painful memory that haunts you endlessly and shows no sign of stopping. But the least you wanted was to destroy the last thing that remembered him just because you’re enraged of your misfortune.

Another memory haunted you around like a lost puppy, plaguing your thoughts when you’re awake and being a nightmare in disguise when asleep. Every day, you repeatedly see the image of Peter’s hand slipping from yours and him falling, as if someone was torturing you as punishment for letting him die.

The pain you always felt were unbearable. It left you hard to breathe with no air coming to your lungs, made you hyperventilate and break down in tears until you fall asleep on the bed that you and Peter used to sleep together. That has become your everyday routine the past eleven years, unable to forget and move on, blaming yourself over and over and over again.

You’re surprised you still have tears to shed.

Right now though, numbness and emptiness were the only things you can feel. No signs of life, even though you were living. The only thing keeping yourself from ending it all is Peter’s legacy that you somehow took over, not wanting the New York to be all by itself without the friendly neighborhood Spiderman.

However, lately, you feel like there’s no reason to keep going. All the emptiness, the sadness, the guilt, the anger, the grief, the numbness; they were all becoming too much to handle.

Even after ten years, you can’t do anything properly without your mental state giving up and breaking down again. You’ve lost count how many times you had mental breakdowns a day. You wish you could just give up already, feel Peter’s arms holding you close, hear Peter’s voice telling you it’s okay, see Peter’s beautiful brown eyes that held so much love stare at you in comfort.

You just want to see him, be with him again, and stop the excruciating pain that cut through your heart every single day. It was destroyed beyond repair along with your spirit and soul, there’s no way it’d be healed again, all you want is for the pain to stop. You felt as if being stabbed by a knife repeatedly. But you knew that a knife would hurt less than the heartache and grief you were going through.

“Peter...” You croaked out, voice shaky and trembling, and you could feel another mental breakdown threatening to come out.

God, you hadn’t uttered that name out loud in ten years. It feels... wrong, to say Peter’s name without him there to respond with that goofy, adorable smile you always loved. Your heart sinks.

“Pete... My spiderling...” Your vision blurred as tears filled your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I— I’m—” You can’t form a proper, coherent sentence before sobs wrecked through your body and tears began flowing uncontrollably, breaking down just like expected.

It was your fault.

The voice that sounded exactly like yours accused.

If you were strong, he wouldn’t have died.

No, no, no. You tried your best to save him just as he did. You did all you could.

Then your best wasn’t enough. You should’ve been there for him, to keep him from falling, but you let him fall. You let him go when you shouldn’t have.

You knew that. And it fucking kills you knowing you could’ve done something or fall with him to death. Even if Peter doesn’t allow you to, you could’ve fell after he did. You could’ve followed him yet here you were, alive but dead inside. Just an empty shell trying to survive.

He’s dead because of you. Peter Parker and Spiderman is dead because of your lack in power.

Your other self was right.

Ten years ago, you didn’t have any powers, just normal human loving a superhero and trying to help even if they were useless, though Peter claimed they weren’t. That’s why you can’t do anything when the both of your lives were at stake, when both of you realized one of you has to go, when you realized Peter was ready to die so you could live.

He sacrificed so many things for other people until there was nothing left for him but you, and then he had to sacrifice again. Instead, this time it was his life.

Just a year after taking the mantra of Spiderman, you once saved a famous reporter slash journalist from getting beaten up by a bunch of gangsters in the alleyway because they recognized him and didn’t like his reports. You thought he was a normal man until he started arguing with himself that ‘you shouldn’t be eaten’ and that ‘you’re a good guy saving the world just like them’ which almost convinced you he was crazy, until a black gooey substance appeared from his body and formed a face with sharp razor teeth.

You almost killed them in that moment due to viewing the creature as threat, being somehow stronger than average humans. Probably because of the grief and rage, but it still surprised them nonetheless how a human could be so strong that you can push the creature back even after it morphed around and merged with the journalist. Though, you quickly figured they weren’t a threat when the creature wasn’t even trying to harm you.

Becoming friends with them wasn’t hard even though you were grieving greatly, and it got to the point where the creature — whose name was revealed as Venom — would often merge with you when he have a fight with the journalist, Eddie Brock, who’s his partner. You were relieved to know they’re also stopping crimes while Eddie simultaneously stops Venom from biting people’s heads off.

Soon enough, it became clear that ever since merging with the alien, you’ve been granted superpowers that Peter used to have. The webs start to come out of your wrist naturally, but you still carried Peter’s web shooters around since you still had difficulty controlling them and also because you didn’t want to leave or patrol around without his web shooters. All of your senses enhanced, as if gaining the famous spider-sense Peter had, and now you could catch a ball without even looking. You can even crawl on a wall, super strength was added to your already stronger than average one, and developed enhanced agility and reflexes.

These powers are wonderful, you thanked Eddie and Venom for them, but at the same time, you wish you hadn’t gained anything at all.

There’s no point in having superpowers when the one you should’ve saved at all cost was already gone.

Even after gaining those powers, you’re still weak.

Your other self taunted.

“I— I know...” You whispered, sobbing. “I’m so— so sorry, Pete. I should’ve— I should’ve done more.” It was hard to breathe, feeling as if your chest is being squeezed by an invisible force, but you still let the words out.

Your spider-sense tingles before someone placed their hands on your shoulders comfortingly. You didn’t have to turn around to know it’s May, who was supposed to be your mother-in-law by now. She still considered you as her son-in-law even though the wedding never happened, insisting you to call her ‘mom’ just like how Peter wanted you to. She sees you as her son no matter what — it didn’t matter that you couldn’t save Peter. What mattered was you’re here. May doesn’t want to imagine if it had been the both of you with no survivor.

“(Y/n), sweetie, you couldn’t have done anything to stop it.” She says softly, careful not to affect you in a negative way and have you break down even more. “You tried your best, but Peter made his choice. We have to live with that.” Her hands rub your shoulders in comfort.

She was worried of how cold your body felt despite being alive. There is no warmth, no signs of life, no love. Just nothing. Her heart sinks to her stomach realizing you weren’t living at all, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re completely destroyed.

You can’t stop the uncontrollable cries that erupt from your throat at what May had said.

Peter made a choice, a hard one at that, but how are you supposed to live with it? He was the love of your life, the only thing that kept you going, the only one that you ever needed. Without him, your life was dull and empty and dark. God, you can’t live without him.

Peter was your will to live.

“He— He was my life, mom...”

May’s heart shattered at your revelation. “He’s the one I had when— when Gwen died. I’m the one he had when Harry died. We... We were only able to get through it because we had each other. But now...” You sobbed brokenly, hugging yourself and leaning your forehead on Peter’s gravestone. “He’s— I couldn’t save him, and n-now he’s gone... It’s my fault, if only— if only I had been stronger—” Your words are interrupted by a cry full of anguish from yourself, all of your emotions piling up altogether to come out as a loud wail.

It hurt May so much, seeing you in this state and not being able to do anything but to only hold you and whisper soothing words. Tears also spilled from her eyes as she continues to shush the self-loathing thoughts slipping past your lips, the pain of witnessing you all so destroyed tugging at her heart. She felt helpless.

“Peter isn’t blaming you for anything, sweetie.” May says with a wavering voice, but her tone was firm and certain. “He saved many people, but he always told me how you’re the only one he truly wants to save until the end. Peter wanted you to be alive no matter what, (Y/n). If you were the one that fell, he would’ve never forgiven himself. It would destroy him completely.”

How ironic, isn’t it.

Now, you’re the one that’s completely destroyed.

May holds you in her arms as you wailed and clutched onto your fiancé’s gravestone. Internally, there was a shock at how you still had a lot of tears and emotions to shed.

How are you not tired of breaking down every single day for the past ten years? Your eyes hurt from crying too much yet you don’t seem to know when to stop. It’s pathetic, if you were being honest.

“It’s going to get better, (Y/n).” May comforts, tightening her hold on your shaking body. “It might take years and years, but it will get better. Please don’t give up.” She begged and just then had you noticed she was crying. Not out of grief, but out of fear that you too, might go away.

Your cries seem to slowly die down into sobs after the realization.

“What am I doing?” You suddenly asked yourself with a trembling voice. “I’m making you worried and scared to death when I should be looking after you for Peter. I’m not the only one who lost someone important that day...”

It was selfish.

But then, as if she had read your mind, May shakes her head and turns your head gently to face her. “It’s okay to mourn. You’re not selfish for mourning and grieving the only way you know how. You and Peter were soulmates, (Y/n). You two were inseparable. Feeling destroyed at his loss is a normal thing to feel.” She smiles sadly. “I’m not upset at how you deal with losing Peter. I lost my son, but you’re still here and I’m thankful for it.”

New tears found their way on your eyes again and you sniffled, turning around in her arms to finally hug her back. Relief floods May when she feels your heart beating and body seeming to get warmer, rubbing your back for comfort.

“Thank you, mom...” Your voice was muffled and too emotional to make out the words you were saying, but May understood.

“I’m always here, sweetie. And believe me or not, Peter is always by our side too — in our hearts.”

Another tears ran down your cheeks, but you ignored them and nodded, closing your eyes to bury your face into her shoulder.

Protect mom. The other self said. You didn’t respond, only hugging May closer.

Protect May Parker.

The sirens echoing from the distance snapped you out of your thoughts as you pulled away to look up, alarmed. Worry immediately spreads across her face.

She doesn’t want you to go. She never did. Ever since her biological son died and you became the new Spiderman, it has become her worst and greatest fear that you might not return like Peter didn’t. That it might be you who’s next to be lowered six feet under on the ground in a casket. But no matter how many times she tried to talk you out of it, to let go of the Spiderman legacy, you never listened.

‘I want to continue Peter’s legacy, so he will be remembered by the world as the hero who sacrificed everything, even his own life, for everyone’s safety.’ That’s what you had said, with eyes red and puffy and too brokenly, and May couldn’t find any strength in her to stop you after those words were uttered. She felt like she would be taking the one thing you had of Peter, so she reluctantly gave up, forcing you to promise everytime you go out in a Spiderman suit that you’ll come back.

Although your suit was drastically different from Peter’s since it’s mostly black, she still saw the glimpse of her son’s Spiderman suit because of the red, blue and white outline perfectly seen around it. Peter’s didn’t have a white color, but it fit well with the black, red and blue nonetheless. You were adding Peter’s style into your own.

Standing up, May pulled you into a tight embrace once again. You could feel the fear radiating off of her. “Be careful, (Y/n). Please.”

You hugged her back, “I will. I promise I’ll come back, mom. But don’t stress yourself out while I’m gone, okay? Take a good rest, you need it.”

She pulls away to caress your cheek with her thumb. “You need it too.” You nod with a small smile, promising silently that you’ll take a rest once the crime settles down. Maybe going to that old coffee shop with her would sound like a good step forward into life.

You kissed her forehead for a quick goodbye before rushing away, leaving May sighing to herself as she reaches out to rub Peter’s gravestone. “My boy... You said if something bad ever happens, you will meet (Y/n) in another universe, didn’t you?”

A single tear rolled down her cheek.

“Now is your time, Peter. You have to come back home... for him. He needs you and you need him.”

She whispered and slide her hands into the pockets of her coat, staring at his name before finally turning around to walk away.

“Fuckers.” You muttered under your breath while swinging around the buildings, pulling your body up to land on Empire State with the crouching spider pose, arms between your thighs and hands touching the hard surface of the tower.

Going hard on the criminals wasn’t exactly in your plan, but when they insulted the original Spiderman who is your dead fiancé, all you saw was red. Though, you didn’t leave them at nearly dead, they were still breathing perfectly fine, you just gave them a fatal blow and injuries that would probably stay with them for three whole months. You’re almost lifeless at this point and there really was nothing holding you back, but knowing Peter wouldn’t want you to go around killing criminals in his newly designed Spiderman suit, you refused to.

Breaking Peter’s rules as the friendly neighborhood Spiderman is like breaking his spirit.

However, everyone knew the current Spiderman isn’t the friendly neighborhood one they used to have. They all are aware that their old Spiderman was dead and replaced by a new one who seemed to have great respect for him, which you should because you’re his fiancé, but they didn’t know that.

Taking off your mask, the cold wind directly blew on your face as you observe the city in peace, calmness now spreading throughout your body. This placed used to be where Peter takes you when he wanted to spend time alone with you, away from the crime life.

The view was wonderful as it had always been. Only difference is that you’re alone now to appreciate it. Closing your eyes, you inhaled the cold breeze of air.

However, before you could enjoy more, your spider-sense goes off the radar as the hair on your skin stood up, goosebumps spreading across. You opened your eyes, only to hover a hand over as you were met with a blinding light of the sun cascading down.

Confusion immediately laced your mind.

“What the fuck?”

The atmosphere’s completely different from the one you were feeling before, uneasiness filling every bit of your skin like the blood flowing through your body, as if something would go wrong any moment. What confused you the most was the sun that’s shining brightly and blindingly. You’re certain it had been night time when you were patrolling; how come it’s already morning in a blink of an eye?

Putting your mask back on and pulling your hood up, you shoot a web at the nearby buildings and began swinging around to find a clue on where you might be. It’s clearly New York, but everything’s different from how you remember, like the tall, huge tower standing in the middle of the city that isn’t supposed to be there.

Most importantly, your spider-sense hasn’t calmed down yet for some unknown reasons. The need to save someone important is consuming you, which only furthered your confusion more since you have no one important to save anymore besides from May. You felt overwhelmed, the urge to help and protect this someone growing as you swung around, almost making you nauseous.

“What the fuck?” You muttered in disbelief for the second time when you come across a screen that showed a young boy who only seemed to be a teenager, with the words ‘Hero-turned-murderer Spiderman is Peter Parker’ written across his image.

That is certainly and obviously not your Peter.

Swiftly landing on the tall building with a huge letter ‘A’ in front, you looked over the city that was supposed to be your home.

You frowned when you could hardly even recognize it.

“Where the hell am I?”

After three days of being stuck in a new place but not so new because it’s still New York city, you figured taking a look around would not hurt. Which quickly became clear isn’t a good idea when everything and everywhere seems so foreign, where everyone calls Spiderman ‘murderer’ that never happened in your city before.

Civilians in your city adored and loved Spiderman so much regardless of their age; they cared for him despite not having seen his face under the mask, loved him like they knew him personally, talked to him like he was their bestfriend for life, trusted him like a family. Even after you became the new Spiderman and they found out someone else replaced their favorite one, their treatment did not change. They were still kind and trusting to you, as if you were the original Spiderman.

They even gave you small gifts when they see you around, thanking you for protecting them even though you didn’t have to, their smiles showing gratitude and happiness that someone was remembering their friendly neighborhood Spiderman just as much as they did.

That’s why you didn’t know what to do when people called Spiderman murderer with such resentment and anger in their voices.

There was once your fiancé was blamed for the death of Harry Osbourne, you and Peter’s bestfriend, but none of the civilians went as far as calling him a murderer. News quickly spread that it was a misunderstanding, that Spiderman did the best he could, and everyone who believed the lie apologized to him publicly on national TVs though they were only about twenty people as most civilians refused to believe Spiderman killed Harry.

The civilians trusted both you and Peter as Spiderman — maybe too much — and never blamed you for someone’s death.

It’s quite overwhelming and uncomfortable seeing literally everyone blame Spiderman for someone’s death, even though it’s not your form of Spiderman.

The past three days, you’ve been walking around the city to take everything in and admire things that you never ever saw around in yours, wearing civilian outfits that you bought from nearby stores with the money you thankfully had when you got sucked into this mysterious version of New York. You only patrolled around at night since swinging out and about in your Spiderman suit at daylight isn’t a good idea considering people are everywhere searching for Spiderman’s head.

You weren’t stupid not to know that; you’re not Peter’s fiancé for nothing.

Latching high up onto the wall of some building, you observed the woman walking through a dark alleyway below where you attached yourself to. You were staring at her head as she walked past, but quickly looked behind her when your spider-sense tingled. There was a man following her quietly with knife in hand, waiting for the right time to strike.

You immediately shot two webs down at his body before he could walk past and yanked him up, his scared yelp echoing throughout the alleyway. The woman turns around only to see no one behind, tilts her head in confusion, and proceeds to walk after deciding the sound was just her imagination.

The creepy man doesn’t get to yell out a thing as your hand quickly clasped around his mouth to silence whatever sound he was trying to make, wrapping your other arm around his head in a choke-hold. Once the woman was out of sight and earshot, you tightened your hold on him, who was moving and struggling to free himself. After a while, his movement becomes weak until all strength leaves his body, falling unconscious in your arms.

Another thing that you and Peter didn’t have in common was that you were silent but deadly. You could take down fifty or more enemies without making a single sound, not even a sound of footsteps, while your fiancé used to struggle moving or fighting silently.

You’re glad in this moment that it isn’t the other way around.

Sighing in relief at the success of silently saving another person without anyone seeing who you are, you carefully lowered the unconscious man on the trashcan using your web in retaliation to his attempt at assaulting a woman. He’d be thankful of being reminded what he is once he regain consciousness.

You look at the alleyway, wondering if you should head back to the hotel to rest or continue the patrol.

For the past ten years, you’ve never got the rest even if you wanted to, always exhausted with mental breakdowns and routine as Spiderman, only sleeping for about few hours before waking up in the middle of the night due to nightmares caused by Peter’s death. You obviously needed a psychiatrist’s help, but having to save humanity from evil everyday kept you from doing so, as you would rather save as many people as possible than care for your own mental health.

However, your breakdowns lessened after getting transported into this strange New York city. It wasn’t completely gone, you still cried over memories of Peter, but it wasn’t as worst as before either. Perhaps, you just had to get away from your version of NYC to finally get a hold of yourself.

Touching the necklace you wore under your suit, your fingertips met the outline of a ring and a small heart pendant that could be opened to see you and Peter’s picture inside. You hadn’t slipped the engagement ring on ever since he died, but you always carry it around your neck so that just in case something goes wrong, you can hold onto it in your final moment. It’s fucking cheesy, just like how Peter used to be when he was alive.

A sudden orange glow interrupted your short-lived moment and you look at the ground of the alleyway, watching as the orange glow formed a circle and what seems like a... portal opened. You squinted your eyes in attempt to see through the portal.

There are three... No, four people looking up at you. Two of them — a girl and a boy — were smiling excitedly as if they expected to see a familiar face or even suit, but their smile instantly vanished after their eyes met your glowing ones— or rather, the glowing white eyes of your mask.

Get answers. Your wise mind instructed, body preparing to jump without wasting time.

“Oh no.” The boy said out loud and ushered everyone out of the way just as you detached yourself from the brick wall to fall through the portal, landing perfectly with an infamous Spiderman pose where one hand is raised in the air and the other touching the floor.

All of them simultaneously widened their eyes at the sight of Spiderman in new, different yet awesome suit. Ned and MJ were sure their Peter isn’t as cool as this one.

You stand up slowly and cautiously, making sure they’re not a threat and you weren’t just lured into their trap by eyeing them one by one, before your eyes stopped at the heartbreakingly familiar face wearing the old Spiderman suit that you had to paint black because the remembrance was too much to bare.

Breath caught in your throat, you felt your eyes sting as tears threatened to burst through, staring at the eyes of the man you watched slip from your fingers and fall to his demise. “P-Peter...?” You choke out, inhaling sharply to keep your tears from falling.

Peter’s eyes widened at the heartbreakingly familiar voice calling out his name, one that he used to love hearing but stopped after he lost it. “(Y/n)...?” His voice broke, disbelief lacing his tone, and he felt his throat burn saying the name out loud. He refused to say it for so long, it sounded foreign on his tongue.

You pulled your hood back to tug the mask off, Peter’s heart dropping to his stomach as he sees your face that he never thought he’ll ever see again. However, it also shattered when he realized that your eyes were dull, empty, sorrowful and dead, like you had seen all the horrors of this world.

Although hope sparked in your chest staring into the eyes you longed to see again for almost eleven years, it didn’t take much for you to realize he wasn’t Peter.

He wasn’t your Peter.

Your Peter that used to prank little kids coming to trick or treat in halloween and scare them off.

Your Peter that used to laugh so hard at how awful you both were in figure-skating despite being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman.

Your Peter that used to dance with you when you weren’t feeling well.

Your Peter that prepared a perfect date in a span of three months because he didn’t know what the ideal perfect date was, took pictures of you together, and kneeled in front of you on one knee at your anniversary to propose.

Your Peter that chose your life over his to save with a heartbreaking smile.

He isn’t your Peter. And as this Peter looks into your eyes, he also realized you’re not his (Y/n).

His (Y/n) that used to help him fix his web shooters because that’s how intelligent you were.

His (Y/n) that used to treat his wounds and silently shed a tear in the middle of the night, worried that he might not survive next.

His (Y/n) that used to surprise him with expensive gifts and handmade chocolates on valentine’s day.

His (Y/n) that always used to smile and forgive him even though he missed your dates saving the world, and cutely asked him to make it up by cuddling and kissing.

His (Y/n) that chose people’s lives over yours.

Feeling tears starting to form, you quickly looked away from him and faced the other three, who all had a shocked look on their faces. With the wheels turning inside your head, you remembered the theories you and Peter used to share about the universe.

“Same city yet different places and atmosphere... What seems like a clone and magic portals... Matter displacement...” You analyze out loud, before something clicked and a loud curse left your lips. “Ah, shit! I’m in a different universe, great. Multiverse, isn’t it?” You pointed at the boy who still looked in a shock.

“Y-Yeah...” He stutters.

“I knew it.” Excitement filled your tone yet the corners of your mouth only twitched. Smiling hasn’t been an option for ten years. Breathing deeply in disbelief, you touched the necklace once again through the suit. “Peter would have loved to know our theory was right.”

It was just a mumble to yourself, but Peter, who was standing few feet from you heard it clearly. He frowned.

“Uh-” The girl cleared her throat, looking at you from head to toe as if she had seen a ghost. “You’re... You’re Spiderman?”

You gave her an incredulous look and raised your brows, gesturing to your suit. “Well, duh. What else would I be called?”

“But you’re not Peter.” She stated. His name made you visibly tense, but they paid no attention. “We were looking for our Peter Parker and our Spiderman.”

Ned nods in agreement as he flashes a smile, “Not gonna lie, you’re much cooler and more awesome than our Spiderman. Your suit is— I mean, it looks better.”

Their nervousness caused suspicion and confusion to simultaneously rise within your skin, though you only responded to the emotions by furrowing your brows. “Uhm... Thanks?” You said, uncertain. “Why are you looking at me like you’ve seen a ghost?”

Michelle and Ned shares a look as they gulped, solemn look coating their faces. “It’s just, uh... You look exactly like our friend who’s in hospital right now unconscious and we’re freaked out by that.” Ned elaborates with a quiet voice. “He’s our Peter’s boyfriend, but he suffered some severe injuries because of the villains that came into this universe and hasn’t woke up ever since.”

Peter’s heart dropped to his stomach. What if the (Y/n) from this universe ends up like his? That’s not what he wants for you.

Raising your brows, you crossed both arms over your chest nonchalantly. “Have you tried slapping him awake?”

The two shook their heads in sync.

All of them finds it unusual how you’re so calm after knowing your other version is basically in coma that no one is certain if you would wake up or not. In fact, there’s even a slightest hint of amusement on your face, somehow managing to find your variant’s situation funny.

“Well, you should’ve.” You shrugged, “I’m sure he would appreciate it. I mean, I want my friends to slap me awake or pour ice cold water over me if I get into a coma.”

“Why— Why do you want that?” The older Peter asked, bewildered.

“‘Cause it’s the most effective and easiest ways to wake people up.” You deadpanned without wasting a second and earned a hesitant nod of acceptance from both Peters. “Getting slapped awake is better than sleeping for unnecessary amount of time.”

Michelle gives you a look, “He suffered severe injuries.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t slap him awake.” Shrugging without a care, you still stood stubbornly by your point.

It’s not that you’re fine with your variant hanging onto the thread between the living and the dead considering you’ve been on mourning position for almost eleven years, but it was hard to miss an opportunity to diss or make fun of yourself that’s in form of another human being. Not every day will you get the chance to meet yourself, might as well have fun.

“You’re not freaked out by the possibility of your other version... you know, losing his life?” Your Peter’s lookalike questioned hesitantly, struggling to get out his words due to a flashback. Pain flashed in his eyes that made you wonder what he had to lose in order to become Spiderman.

It hurt to look at him, but you forced yourself to, repeating in your mind that he isn’t your fiancé. Your heart still feels like being stabbed deeper and deeper. “Not really. Death is devastating, heartbreaking, and even traumatizing, but it’s completely inevitable. I learned it the hard way, so I’m kind of done with all the freaking out.”

The tone of your voice was light and almost nonchalant to keep everyone’s mood upright. However, Peter was quick to notice your trembling hands as you clenched them into a fist. He suddenly gets the urge to embrace you tight. You clearly went through something that left you traumatized and scarred, Peter’s heart breaking at the realization.

“Okay, okay! Let’s just go back to Peter, can we?”

As soon as everyone’s attention turned to Michelle, you breathed deeply and blinked a few times to get rid of the tears that started welling up in your eyes, pretending to look around the house so no one will notice. Michelle began to talk, but you weren’t listening as painful memories and feelings overwhelmed your entire body.

Seeing Peter again — even if it isn’t your Peter — felt like a dream and a nightmare at the same time.

Peter felt the same. He almost couldn’t believe his eyes, but when he looks at you like this, he knows you’re alive — just not in his universe. It’s a bittersweet fact to both of you.

“Is there some place he would go that has meaning to him?” Older Peter’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts as you turned back to them. “Like a place where he would go to—”

“To get away from everything.” Peter interjected, the older variant nodding at him.

“For me, it was the top of the Chrysler building.”

“Empire State.” You and Peter chorused, sharing an understanding look and appreciative nod. “Better view.” Peter remarks.

Older Peter smiles, “That’s actually a nice view.”

Michelle suddenly fell into silence to think before looking at all four of you. “I think I know exactly where he’d go.”

You watched Michelle and Ned pull a young boy into a hug from the tower’s roof with Pete and Ben, the older Peter. Their friendship reminds you of the inseparable bond you had with Gwen, Harry and your Peter before the three of them reached their demise.

Everything used to be so simple and peaceful... Where did it all go wrong? You have no idea.

Reaching for the hood of your suit, you pulled it over your head until it hides the upper part of your face, afraid of anyone seeing the destroyed look. Personal business should be set aside when you’re wearing the Spiderman suit; an unspoken rule you made to yourself because the last time you let a personal business interfere, you almost killed an enemy. That is something you never want to repeat again.

“Peter... There’s some people here to see you.” Michelle’s soft voice informs the boy, who snapped his gaze on your direction.

The three of you took that as a sign to leap down and get closer, stopping few meters away when he got startled and clearly didn’t want you three any close. You get a look at him and immediately frowned— he’s just a kid. A kid who looks scared, traumatized, shaken up by the things that happened all in one day.

“Sorry... About May.” Ben speaks in a gentle tone, taking on a harmless posture to show Peter he wasn’t a threat.

You hung your head low. Hearing the news of May’s death almost sent you into a puddle of emotional and mental breakdown again, even though she isn’t the May you know in your universe. You and both Spiderman on your both sides can’t imagine a life without her. Though the May each of you knew are different, she’s the one that always managed to pull all of you out the darkness and back into the light. She taught you life lessons.

Pete steps forward, “I got some understanding of what you’re going through...”

“No, no, please... Don’t tell me that you know what I’m going through.” Peter interrupts, “She’s gone and it’s all my fault.”

The weight of his words dropped on you, feeling your heart shatter. Pete and Ben also feels their heart cracking as a familiar feeling bubbled in them. Although every and each Spiderman lives in different universes, it seems you all somehow share the same mindset — feeling at fault for the death of your loved ones. Blaming yourselves for their death and mourning, wishing you could’ve been more better to save them.

“She died for nothing. I’m gonna do what I should’ve done in the first place.” He turns to reach out towards Michelle.

“Peter—”

“Please, don’t.” Ben closes his mouth at his beg. “You don’t belong here, any of you, so I’m sending you home.” Peter looks at each of you. “Those guys are from your worlds, right? So you deal with it. If they die, if you kill them... That’s on you. It’s not my problem. I don’t care anymore. I’m done.” He says, defeated.

You look down, remembering the times you wanted to give up after your Peter died.

“I’m really sorry that I dragged you into this... But you have to go home now. Good luck.” His voice cracked. He tries to take the magic box from Michelle, but she holds it tighter, not wanting to give it back and shakes her head.

A moment passes before Ben breaks the silence. “My uncle Ben was killed.” He inhales sharply, “It was my fault.”

“I lost...” Pete is next to speak, struggling to let out as he tears up at the memories alone. “I lost (Y/n).” You look at him to find him looking back, “My (Y/n)... I couldn’t save him. I’m never gonna be able to forgive myself for that. But I carried on. Tried to keep going. Tried to keep being the, uh... friendly neighborhood Spiderman, because I know that’s what he would have wanted.” His voice trembles. “But... at some point, I just... I stopped pulling my punches. I got rageful. I got bitter. And I just don’t want you to end up like... like me.”

You felt everyone’s eyes turn to you, curious of your backstory. Of why you seem so... exhausted and lifeless. Like you had given up everything.

Slowly taking the hood off, Peter’s red and puffy eyes widened seeing his boyfriend’s face, just realizing you were his boyfriend’s other dimension-self.

“I had a fiancé... His name was Peter Parker.” The back of your eyes immediately stings, feeling your chest being squeezed. “My Peter. My darling spider. My everything. He always told me how he was afraid to lose me, because becoming Spiderman means he had to lose something. He was... very selfless and sacrificed a lot of things for the safety of people.” You sniffled, lowering your gaze to the ground. “But... it got to the point he had to sacrifice himself for me to live. I, uh... I was always prepared it would be me. Nothing could’ve prepared me for his death.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and finally let the tears flow through. The sudden urge to touch you raised within Pete and this time, he allows his body to move, taking your empty hand that was shaking and rubbing it with his thumb to comfort you.

“I blamed myself every single day.” Voice wavering, your breath hitched. “He was... he was the light to my darkness and without him, I only see nothing but dark. It’s like— like he took a part of me with him. He took my soul with him.” You shake your head as you bit your lip. “I haven’t been alive since I lost him and just... grew tired of everything.”

You wiped the tears off and sniffled, squeezing back Pete’s hand.

“The night Ben died... I hunted down the man who I thought did it.” Older Peter shared with slight hesitation. “I wanted him dead. I got what I wanted... It didn’t make it better. It took me a long time to...” He paused, breathing out. “Learn to get through that darkness.”

“I wanna kill him. I wanna tear him apart.” Peter admitted, silent rage burning in his eyes. His breath trembled. “I can still hear the voice of Aunt May.” He sniffled, “Even after she was hurt, she said to me that we did the right thing. She told me that, with great power...”

“Comes great responsibility.” The three of you finished in sync, nodding at one another. Your Peter’s father, Ben had said to both of you on his death bed.

Peter’s gaze snaps to you three in surprise, “Wait, wha— How do you know that?”

“Uncle Ben said it.” Pete answered tearfully.

“The day he died.” Ben adds.

The young Parker’s eyes meet yours, which now had a warm look that wasn’t there before. “Maybe she didn’t die for nothing, Peter.” The others nodded in agreement.

Today, meeting this three other Peter Parkers, you have a feeling your life will turn into something else. Maybe it would encourage you.

“So, none of you are really gonna slap him awake?” You ask with eyebrows raised, crossing your arms, seemingly growing impatient as seconds pass by.

Michelle gives you a look for the second time. “Slapping a patient can be considered as assault, you know.” You rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out to her mockingly, to which she rolls her eyes at as well.

Peter sat on a chair right beside the bed as he had his hand intertwined with his boyfriend’s, muttering quietly so only his boyfriend can hear him. “Wake up, babe. You have so much to catch up to. We met someone named (Y/n) too, he’s from another universe. I’d want you to meet him... You look exactly like him even though your personality is a little bit different.”

You stare at (Y/n) as Peter keeps talking to him, wondering if he’ll ever wake up. It would be a waste if he doesn’t — he have so much time to spend with Peter unlike you, and it kills you that he’s wasting time by sleeping.

Walking over to the other side of your variant’s bed, you touched his hand and rubbed a comforting hand while Pete and Ben comes to stand on either side of Peter, watching you contemplate on whether to talk or not. Peter looks at you with sad eyes, “Do you think he’ll ever wake up?”

“He will,” You don’t have a second thought.

Just as you said that, Peter felt his hand being squeezed back weakly and his head whipped to look at his boyfriend, gasp leaving his lips at the sight of (Y/n) slowly opening his eyes and blinking to get used to. Peter immediately tackles him in a gentle hug without letting him a time to process as he chuckled, hugging him back weakly.

You smiled and looked at the two Peters to see them smiling as well. Ned and Michelle rushes over to hug both (Y/n) and Peter with (Y/n) bursting into a laughter even though he just woke up.

“You guys missed me that much, huh?” He teasingly said as they pulled away, chuckling tearfully. “But I’m upset you didn’t try to slap me awake. I could’ve woke up sooner.”

Michelle’s jaw drops and she turns to look at you, who smirked smugly. “I told you he’d appreciate it. I’m literally your (Y/n) from another universe.” Pete and Ben chuckled as Michelle rolled her eyes, grumbling under her breath.

Your gaze shifted onto (Y/n) on the bed, and just then had he noticed your presence. His eyes widened, freezing. He’s fucking staring at his own doppelganger. Amusement flashes across your face at his freaked out reaction and felt a little bit sorry that he has to deal with this right after waking up from coma.

“Holy shit.” Your variant breathes out, as if that’s the only sound that can come off.

You shrugged, pulling a chair and setting it on his side to take a seat. “Holy shit it is. Never thought a day in my life I’ll ever see me from another universe.” An amused smirk appears on your lips, “I was told you were badly injured, but it doesn’t seem so bad.”

(Y/n) smiles, “It was only bad ‘cause I was in a coma. No big deal.” He waves it off before shifting his gaze on what you were wearing. “So, am I really a Spiderman in another universe or is this just cosplay?”

You snorted in amusement.

It’ll be a terrible idea to cosplay Spiderman since that’ll only mean cosplaying a superhero that gets called for help a lot. Whoever decides to cosplay one would automatically be obliged to save the world, with or without superpowers.

“I’m really Spiderman.”

“Can you, like... prove it?”

You raised your brows, “Do you want me to crawl around on the ceiling like a spider?” Pete snorts, recalling how Michelle told him to crawl on the ceiling to prove himself as Spiderman before you came through the portal Ned opened.

(Y/n) grins, “I was gonna say stand on the ceiling, but that works fine.”

You stood up from the chair and jumped to stick your hands on the ceiling, pulling yourself up so your feet would touch the surface before standing back up and straightening your posture, hanging upside down.

“You’re so fucking cool.” He said in awe.

Shrugging your shoulders, you landed swiftly on the floor with a flip, eyes saddening. “I don’t know about that.” You muttered and felt his confused stare while the others simply looked at you in sadness.

“You can’t really be cool if you failed to save someone you loved.”

Guilt immediately crosses (Y/n)’s face. “I’m— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“It’s fine, I just, uh...” You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly and avoided eye contact, feeling your eyes burn and tears start to form.

Fucking hell, just stop crying already.

Seeing your clenched fists, Pete instantly knew you were keeping yourself from crying and approaches without a second thought as his hand moves to rub your back in a soothing manner. You lean onto his side unconsciously, emotions building up due to the memory of your fiancé falling to his death still fresh in your mind.

“Will you excuse us for a moment?” He asked them with a gentle voice as to not trigger your incoming emotional breakdown.

“Of course, go ahead.” Peter replies immediately, he and two of his friends looking at you in sympathy.

Pete nods in gratitude and leads you out the room towards an empty hallway. “No one’s gonna see us here. You can let it all out.” He softly whispers, rubbing your arm.

A sob finally escapes your throat as you fall forward onto his chest, Pete not hesitating to wrap his arms around you and embrace you tightly. Your cries were silent, as if you had suddenly lost the ability to produce sounds, but they sounded more painful than anything Pete has ever heard in his life. It’s gut-wreching, and he could feel his already broken heart shatter more.

He thought nothing would be as painful and cruel as watching you die in his arms, but seeing you absolutely and utterly destroyed because of him — even if it wasn’t really him — proved Pete wrong.

Feeling himself tear up at the heartbreaking cries of yours, Pete inhaled a sharp breath and tightened his hold around you.

“I’m here, (Y/n).” He comforted despite his wavering voice, on the verge of tears. “I may not be the Peter Parker you want, but I’m here for you.”

Pete felt your hand fist the back of his suit before you slowly pulled away only enough to look at his face, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Pete... I’m not the only one who lost someone. You... you need someone, too.”

“Then we can be there for each other.” He gently cupped your face with both of his hands. “Let’s carry the burden together. You don’t have to suffer alone, (Y/n).”

You didn’t want to bother him.

This is your grief, he doesn’t have to carry it with him. But there’s a reason why you met.

You need each other and were destined to find each other. It’s a tragic destiny set up by the universe, cruel yet kind enough to give both of you a second chance.

“We don’t have to suffer alone anymore.” He reassured again, touching his forehead with yours.

You breathe deeply and closed your eyes as you placed both hands over his. “We have each other now.” You whisper, feeling him nod.

Pete pulls you into a hug again, but this time, sobs were no longer falling from your lips. With silent tears running down from your closed eyes, you hugged him back as you felt warmth spread in your chest.

Both of your heart is still shattered, but maybe, you could finally deal with the pain.

Because you’re not alone anymore and neither is he.

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gatorbites-imagines · 11 months

Note

SPIDERNOIR WITH A A FTM READER ??

Peter Benjamin Parker/Spidernoir x ftm reader

Headcanons

Peter is from the 1930s, so sadly there probably isn’t much medical treatment you can get done. That doesn’t mean you can’t wrap your chest, though you would have to do it in unhealthy ways. You would also wear men’s clothes and have your preferred hairstyle.

Peter would have no issue with you being trans, though he wouldn’t fully understand it in the beginning but would support you anyways.

Because it’s the 30s you two can’t be open about your relationship to the public out of the dangers it poses, but in your own home you are able to be yourselves and be together.

If you guys are together you are most likely his MJ because that’s something every spiderman has to some extent, at least all peters seem to have an MJ. MJ is a very gender neutral nickname too which would help with dysphoria or confusion.

Peter is smart, so he would find a way to help you bind your chest in more healthy ways, if you wanted to bind your chest. He wouldn’t be able to get you hormone treatment because I don’t think that was a thing at the time, but he will help you with voice training.

He could also help you in working out to build more muscle to be more masc presenting if that’s what you wanted. You guys just convince the outside world you’re just a guy with a smoother face, smaller hands, and a higher voice, no one really questions it.

When he joins the spider alliance he learns that being trans is actually a common thing, and it would lead him down a longer path to learn as much about it as possible.

He gets you a binder with the help of some of the other spider-people, and is able to get you both literature and books about it so you can both learn about it.

Up until then you most likely didn’t have a way to explain what you were, but knowing there were people out there like you helped you and peter a lot. It meant Peter had someone to ask questions, and you had someone to bond with.

Because Peter would most likely bring you with him to the headquarters because he knows how helpful it would be, and maybe to have you seen by some more futuristic doctors who could give you the treatment you want, in case you want it.

But no matter what, Peter would love you anyways. Whether you bind, or don’t. whether you want hormones or not. He would always respect you, your pronouns, and however you decide to present yourself.

He’s just smitten with you like any person of Peter is with their partner, this also makes him quite protective during your day to day, because the world is dangerous. Both because of his work as spiderman, but also because the world isn’t so accepting of people like you.

He isn’t overbearing though, and he tries not to be too much, since he knows you can protect yourself If you need too.

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alloftheimaginesblog · 2 years

Text

Pet Names {Peter Parker} NSFW

Plot: You have a thing for pet names and Peter has a thing for you.

Character: Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield) x Plus Size Female Reader

Request: dontsaypetertingle asked: Hi!! I really love your writing and was wondering if you could do something TASM Peter where he finds out pet names turn you on so he makes a point to whisper names and dirty things in your ear in public and ends with some alley way smut?

Warnings: 18+ content, NSFW, smut, Rating: Mature, sex, public sex/risky sex, oral (male receiving), choking/hand around throat kink, pet names, aftercare

“Hurry, we’re going to be late!” You say as you pull him along the street. In fact, you were already a few minutes late. Tonight you and your boyfriend, Peter, were meeting some friends in Cucina an Italian restaurant in town and then you were all going for some drinks afterwards. You wore a more fitted skirt and fancier top which you’d bought when out shopping last week.

You’d been too caught up in trying not to be late to notice the way Peter’s eyes have been eyeing your hips all afternoon. He loves your hips, loves the way the sway and move, loves how prominent they are; he just wants to grab them and pull you to him, grind-

“Peter, hurry up!” You laugh, breaking him out of his trance, as you tug at his hand.

He blinks those thoughts away for a brief second, “Sorry, babygirl,” he says and you immediately react which is the worst thing to do in this circumstance. He hadn’t actually meant to call you ‘babygirl’, that’s usually a name he reserves for the bedroom because it drives you wild. Peter’s only called you that a select few times in the bedroom, those times when you’re beneath him and he’s praising you for being so good and for taking him so well and-

Seems like neither of you can stop thinking of sex. You feel your cheeks burn as you turn away him him, telling him to not call you that (though your tone is breezy and you both know that you don’t mean it). Peter instantly notices you reaction and he smirks as he walks behind you. He quickens his pace to stride beside you and you turn your face away, trying to not let him see the look in your eye. Peter was always so good at knowing when he was turning you on, he could pinpoint the exact second those thoughts invaded and he wouldn’t relent.

“What’s wrong, babygirl?” He asks, nudging your side, “You’ve gone all quiet.” He knows what he’s doing. He knows what those pet names do to you.

You turn to him with a glare and he’s feigning innocence but he can’t keep the slight smirking half grin off of his handsome face, “Peter Benjamin Parker,” you hiss, “we’re going out with our friends, don’t you dare.”

“Don’t I dare do what?” Peter questions, raising an eyebrow, “Call my pretty girl ‘babygirl’? Is that so wrong?” This time he leans down to murmur it in your ear, voice deep and low.

For god’s sake.

Your stupid boyfriend knows exactly how to turn you on, he knows just what to do. Whether it’s by giving you the look or by grazing his hand over and up your thigh or by simply calling you a pet name. He knows you. He sees you and my god, he wants you. You can already feel yourself getting warmer in between your legs, he knows it too.

The restaurant door is just in front of you but Peter pulls you to the side to a deserted alleyway. You question what he’s doing, that you’re already late but he just laughs in response. He doesn’t lead you very far down, if someone was to walk past they’d still be able to see and hear you. He stops and turns to you, eyeing you with that look, “What’s wrong, babygirl?” He whispers, backing you up until your back hits the wall with a thud, “You seem so... distracted.” He towered over you so you had no choice but to look up at him. My god, the way his eyes fixated on yours and then moved to your lips, licking his own as he looked at them... God.

You shift your legs, pressing them together, feeling your underwear rub at your clit. You suck in a deep breath and Peter’s eyebrow quirks, “Are you already wet for me, sweetheart?” His fingers trail downwards and you glance over your shoulder to make sure that no one’s walking past. The risk of being caught is oddly fuelling your excitement. His hand glides down your thigh and then back up, parting your thick thighs with a tap of the finger, “You’re such a good girl for me, baby,” he says as you eagerly part your legs. His fingers move slowly up your inner thighs, eyes watching you the whole time, watching as you bite your lip and suck in a deep breath in anticipation. With a slow motion, he drags a finger over your panties but it’s not enough, you want to feel him touch you, want him inside of you.

He smirks, “Your panties are already soaked, babygirl,” he whispers, “I bet you just want me to fuck you here, don’t you? You’re probably so desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” He rubs you too gently over your panties, making your hips jut out trying to get some real pleasure.

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction, he’s too smug, but despite yourself, you nod hurriedly, “Please,” you choke out. God, you sound so weak, “Touch me.” You continue to beg him and god, you sound so pretty when you’re begging for his touch; for his cock. He almost caves, he almost gives in but then his phone buzzes in his pocket and he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before moving your panties back to normal and whispering, “Time’s up, babygirl. We’re already late.”

“No,” you whine, grabbing had hand as he pulls away from you, “I don’t care about being late.” You just want to feel him, to cum around his fingers and around his cock over and over again. Peter had a way of exposing the most vulnerable parts of you, the hungrier parts of you. He was like a drug, the way he made you feel was unlike anything and everything. Yeah, you could make yourself cum, someone else could probably have a good go at making you cum but there was something different about loving a person so much, having your whole body ache for them and having them make you reach that high. It was pure bliss and that’s all you wanted, “We can cancel, they won’t mind.”

God, he thinks, I love her like this. Peter smiles, he likes when you show him how desperate and needy you are; how much you need him, “C’mon, babygirl.”

“How am I meant to sit through a meal when all I want to do is have you fuck me?” You groan as he leads you out of the alleyway, “You cannot call me that in front of our friends.”

“Oh... I’m going to have my fun with you,” he promises with a wink. He’s already got plans for you and that both excites and scares you. Peter’s hand slips into yours as he walks you into the restaurant. As the waiter leads you to the seat where your friends already are, he stares at your ass and your hips. He wishes that he’d declined the offer to go out with your friends and instead you could’ve spent the day in bed together. Peter craved your body, especially when moments like that in the alleyway happened; he adored the way you whined for him, begging for him to touch you. His cock twitches in his jeans at the mere thought and as discreetly as possible, he rearranges himself. He’s going to torture himself just as much as he’s planning to torture you during this dinner.

“Sorry we’re late,” he hears you say to your friends, “We, uh...” You can’t seem to think of a lie on the spot.

“Roadworks on 39th and 2nd,” Peter says, sticking his head over your shoulder, “The subway was packed so we had to wait on another one. Nightmare.” It was in fact true, he’d seen them that morning when out doing a quick patrol. Peter flags down a waiter, ordering drinks for you and him. Your friends, who are already two drinks in, laugh it off saying it’s not a problem. You slid into the booth and Peter sat next to you, almost instantly placing a hand on your thick thigh. He gave you a gentle squeeze starting off timid and easy.

You took a chance to look at the menu, scanning through the list of foods as you idly chatted to your friends. You seemed to be coping well even though your cheeks burned and your stomach flipped at the feeling of his hand on your thigh. Peter couldn’t stop thinking about the things he wanted to do to you, “What about you Pete?” Your friends asked, “What have you been doing lately?”

Peter’s as calm and composed as ever, you don’t know how he does it, hides his true feelings so effortlessly. You glance at him, watching the way his eyes light up as he talks about his newest project in work. You watch the way he licks his lips as he talks, thinking about how badly you just want to kiss him. He seems to know exactly what you’re thinking and he wants to tease you more. He chats away to them, seemingly not bothered, as his fingers dig into your thigh, giving a hard squeeze. You suck in a breath, one of your friends glance at you in confusion, you play it off with a cough but as you look over at Peter, who’s talking about visiting his Aunt May, you see the slight smirk on his lips. He knows what he’s doing to you and he loves it.

As he continues to converse, his hand slides upwards and you try so desperately to not think about where he’s going but as you already know that you’ll be soaking for him, so desperate for his touch. As the waiter approaches, you stop Peter’s hand with your own, holding it in place on your upper thigh. Peter respects that boundary only just until the waiter’s given you your drinks and has taken everyone’s orders and has walked away. As soon as his back is turned to the table, Peter’s shakes your hand off and is creeping back upwards once again.

You can’t believe he’s doing this here whilst your friends sit across from you sipping at cocktails, “Hey,” one of them says to you, “you seem pretty distracted today. Everything okay?”

Peter’s hand is dancing closer and closer to your aching sex and you so willingly and so eagerly part your legs to give him access. God, you didn’t care that you were in a restaurant right now, you didn’t care that you were sat across from your college friends; all you wanted was him to touch you. His fingers glide over your panties, not enough to give you pleasure but enough to drive you fucking crazy.

“Uh, yeah,” you say, taking a drink trying to cool down your burning cheeks, “I’m okay, just tired. What have you been doing?” You ask, shifting the attention from you to your friend.

As they chat, Peter leans in close to you whispering in your ear, “Are you okay, babygirl?” You hear the smirk before you see it, “I bet you’re so fucking wet, aren’t you?” Your teeth bit hard at your lower lip and Peter smiled. He loved to torture you like this. He pushed your underwear aside and used a finger to part your lips, barely touching and yet already soaked, “Fuck, babygirl,” he growls quietly as you struggle to stay composed, “You’re fucking soaked.”

You’re breathing harder, one hand gripping the table and the other gripping Peter’s arm. His finger lazily runs over your aching sex before stopping at your clit. Biting your lip harder, you worry you might draw blood as Peter’s thumb moves in slow circles, pressing on your clit.

Knowing that you probably won’t be able to do much interaction, Peter takes over, chatting to your friends so casually as though he’s not touching you under the table. You never thought you would do something like this, allow him to touch you in a public setting, you always thought you’d be too paranoid about someone catching you but my god, you were too desperate to worry about that. All you wanted was his hands on you and that’s exactly what you were getting. You didn’t know if you’d be able to stay quiet, Peter’s thumb on your clit already making you want to moan. Peter’s pace quickens as he presses harder on your clit and you gasp and try to cover it with it a cough. Your boyfriend wears a secret smile as he plays with you. His cock twitches uncomfortably in his jeans, he’s hard at the mere thought of touching you. He’s excited at the prospect of touching you like this, so openly and so riskily. He’s glad that you’re trusting him to do this, excited at where it’ll lead to.

As one of your friends excuses themselves to go to the toilet, the other takes a phone call and turns away from you and Peter. Peter moves in quick, face at your ear, smirking, “Are you going to cum for me, babygirl?” He whispers, “In a restaurant full of people? God, you don’t even care that there’s people all around us, do you? You’re just so desperate for me, aren’t you?”

You nod quickly. You really are so desperate for him and he knows it. God the way he talks to you is so fucking hot, “P-Pete,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut, “I-I can’t hold it much longer.” It’s true. You’re fighting off an orgasm, scared in case you make a peep.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” He asks softly, “Think you can keep quiet?” You open your eyes to look at him and you shake your head but he doesn’t relent, “Let’s see, shall we?”

He has his thumb on your clit, rubbing fast circles on the sensitive bud, as he slips two fingers past your lips and into your soaking self. Your walls clench around him as he enters and goes straight for your g-spot, “P-Pete,” you whimper, “I-I’m going-” You gasp.

“Found it,” he murmurs, referring to your g-spot. He is always so good at finding your sweet spots, “You want to cum for me, babygirl?” He asks quietly. You nod quickly, squeezing your eyes shut as the coil winds up in your stomach tight, “Look at me,” he demands, “I want to see the look in your eyes as you cum for me in a restaurant full of people.”

You open your eyes and bite down on your bottom lip hard. Your hands are clenched on the table in a white knuckled grip. As the coil pulls tighter and tighter, Peter’s whispering, “You’re such a good girl cumming for me right now,” his eyes are full of so much lust that he just wishes he could take you right here and now, “C’mon, babygirl, cum. Look at me.”

Your walls clench around his fingers and he breaths out a laugh as you begin to hit your high, “Good girl...” he praises as he works you through it. He knows exactly how to please you, he’s always so good at it.

A series of moans try to come from your throat but you know you can’t but my god, they so desperately want to come out. Your eyes are locked with Peter’s in a lustful gaze before your eyes roll back as your body trembles and convulses beneath him. He’s still praising you, still whispering such dirty things to you but you can barely hear him. All you hear is your heartbeat and your ragged breaths as you fall from your high. A small whimper escapes your parted lips and Peter relishes in it, almost groaning himself. He loved to hear you, he loved knowing that he could make you feel such pleasure. Peter had obviously made you orgasm before but this? This felt incredible. Maybe it was the fact you’d been staring into his eyes or maybe the fact that you were in a crowded restaurant or maybe being forced to stay quiet, maybe all of those things combined made it all that more intense. You thought of nothing except him as you hit that high, that sweet, sweet release. Your hips ground and bucked, writhing on his fingers trying to get as much pleasure as you could from him before your orgasm ended.

He rode the orgasm out with you as his fingers worked skilfully, gazing at you with such lust and adoration, as he bit his own lip. As you began to come down from your high, it was like resurfacing from the water. Suddenly you were very aware that you were in a restaurant full of people and that Peter Parker, your wonderful boyfriend, had just made you orgasm. You were panting hard as your eyes fluttered open, staring at him with flushed cheeks, “Fuck,” you whisper, chest heaving.

“There’s my good girl,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. When he pulls back, he eyes you hungrily before pulling slowly out of your warm wetness and removing his touch from you. He stands up, pulling some notes from his wallet and throwing them on the table, “What are you doing?”

“I need you now,” he whispers.

Your friend, who’d been at the toilet, approaches, “Everything okay? Oh, (y/n), you look really flushed, are you okay?” The other hangs up the phone, having not realised about anything that was going on with you and Peter.

Peter extends his hand to you and you take it, allowing him to pull you up, “I’m really sorry, (y/n)’s feeling quite hot. My Aunt had the flu and we saw her the other night so she might be coming down with something. Rain check?”

Your friends nod, “Of course, we can ask them to package your food and we can drop them by the apartment later on if you’d like?”

“Amazing, thank you,” Peter says and you smile, still trying to catch your breath, “We better hurry and get you home, babygirl.” He can’t help but call you it, can’t help but tease you even more. Your friends are worried and they have no real reason to be. You’re both lying to them, lying to get out of a perfectly pleasant dinner all because you wanted to fuck. You’re like teenagers, too needy and desperate to wait an hour. You quickly say your goodbyes and follow Peter as he leads you out of the restaurant.

You couldn’t believe that you were both doing this. You’d never done anything like this before, the thought of lying to your friends and leaving because the two of you were so desperate to fuck was such a thrilling experience. Now you understood why Peter thought desperation was hot because it was. Having him need you as bad as you needed him was so fucking hot; that feeling of being wanted, of being craved... There was nothing else like it.

He takes a sharp left down into the alley where you’d been before you went to the restaurant though this time, Peter led you further down. The alley was dark, no lights which you supposed was beneficial so that no one would catch you. There were large bins half blocking you and Peter from people’s vision. You would’ve been disgusted but right now, your judgement was clouded with the thought of Peter.

When you reach the bottom of the alley, Peter doesn’t waste a second. His hands are on your hips, tugging your skirt up as he moves his leg in between yours, pushing his thigh against your cunt. You gasp as you look up at Peter, “How did that feel?” He asks, breath tickling your features, “Being touched in a restaurant full of people?” Truth be told, it felt incredible. The risk seemed to heighten the orgasm, being forced to be quiet only seemed to make it ten times more intense. His hand snaked up your torso, wrapping around your neck giving a gentle squeeze as he leaned in, applying more pressure with his thigh, and whispered, “How did it feel, babygirl?”

“So good... Amazing,” you hum as you lean up to kiss him, “I want more, Pete. I need more.” Your hand finds the bulge in his jeans, fondling his already hard cock through the denim. Peter rolled his head back with a groan, god he loved when you touched him; loved when you were vocal about how bad you needed him, “I need you, Peter.”

He releases you from his grasp and commands, “On your knees.” He wants your mouth, wants to watch as you take his cock in your mouth; fuck, the thought makes his cock twitch again. You do as your told, crouching low and unbuttoning his jeans. You look up at him with a slight smile as you pull the waistband of his boxers down, letting his fully erect cock loose. It bobs in front of your face and you lick your lips, getting yourself ready. You wrap a hand around his cock, giving him a few strokes.

“Kiss it,” he says and you do just that. You give his head a wet kiss, causing a low growl to come from Peter before you took him in your mouth, taking him as far as you could. As your head bobbed up and down, increasing your pace, Peter moaned softly, “Fuck, babygirl, you look so goddamn pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock.”

You look up at him, humming around his cock, only making him moan louder. It isn’t long before he’s pulling you up and kissing you hard. Peter could never last long with you sucking his cock when you looked that pretty, he needed you now. It’s merely a few moments later when he’s pulling you upwards, growling that you look too pretty and he just needs to fuck you now. He kisses you hard and his hands are tugging up your skirt and forcing your underwear down. Your underwear fall to your ankles and you hastily pull one foot out.

As Peter kisses you, his hands groping your hips, thighs and ass, he taps them and you know this to mean to jump. You loved Peter’s super strength, you loved that he was able to lift you and get you over your fear of someone lifting you. Being plus size and having someone lift you, having someone bear your weight was a very scary feeling but Peter didn’t care, he could easily lift you and never shamed you for your weight or how heavy you were. You jumped and Peter so effortlessly caught you mid-kiss. He backed you into the hard wall, you barely even registered that it was the outer wall of the restaurant building. You wrapped your legs around him, feeling his cock pressing against your soaking cunt.

“Please,” you whisper, pulling away from his kiss for just a second, “Fuck me.”

“You sure, baby?” He asks quietly, glancing out to the other end of the alley, “if anyone walks past or-”

“I don’t care,” you growl, pulling him back to face you, “I need you right now.” You’re desperately grinding your hips trying to make him hurry up. You don’t think about the fact that you’re in an alleyway, pressed against a hard brick wall; all you can see is Peter, all you need is Peter.

He grins, shifting in his position to push into your wet warmth slowly, teasing you with the head of his hard cock, “God, sweetheart, you’re already so wet for me, maybe I’ll just tease you-”

“Don’t you dare.”

“or maybe I’ll just-” Within a moment’s warning, he pushes into you fully, filling you with his cock. You let out a loud breathy moan as he fills your aching cunt. God, you’re almost delirious with the pleasure, mind in a complete haze. The noises and moans that come from you are grow louder and louder and soon, your pressing your hand over your mouth as Peter’s pace stays hard and fast.

“Don’t,” he says, moving to murmur in your ear, “I love hearing you.” Your hands move to grasp at his shoulders, nails digging in through his shirt as your moans grow loud again. You barely register that you are indeed out in public, though semi-hidden people could still hear you if close enough but you don’t care. The excitement of being outdoors, in public and having the risk of someone catching you was something unlike anything you’d ever experienced; it only added to the pleasure.

Peter’s mouth crashed onto yours, kissing you with a burning hunger, he needed to feel you, taste you, hold you, touch you; he needed you in every single sense. You moaned against his mouth as his strong hands gripped at your thighs, surely there would be bruises in the morning.

That familiar sensation of an orgasm building up began to grow and grow and soon, you were pulling away, nails digging into Peter’s back as he encouraged you with words of praise, “That’s it, babygirl, let go for me,” he crooned, kissing your neck before moving a hand to grip it. You could hear yourself, hear yourself crying out in pleasure, hearing his name being called out by you but it felt like another person; you were encased in pleasure, every nerve in your body was on fire as Peter’s cock filled you over and over. Your eyes rolled back as you came fuelled by Peter’s praises as his hand squeezed your neck only making it more intense. He feels the tremble in your thighs as you clench around him as your body convulses against the hard wall. God, he loves you like this.

“Good girl,” he whispered as your moans began to quieten, “You sound so fucking beautiful.” You were gasping for air, every thrust causing more and more pleasure to erupt throughout your body, “I-I- Fuck.”

“I make you feel good, baby?” He whispers, pace still fast, as he left kisses over your neck, “It’s my turn now.”

You nod, opening your eyes as whimpers and moans left your mouth, “I want you to cum inside of me,” your voice is quiet and breathy.

Peter groans as you tell him again to cum inside of you, “You’re mine,” he hisses, forehead pressed against yours, “You’re mine, you hear me?”

“I’m yours,” you groan out, hands tugging at his hair, “You’re mine, too.” As his speed increased, you watched him with that lustful look in your eyes. You loved the way he looked when he got lost in the pleasure, the way his eyes squeezed shut, the way his neck muscles tensed, the way his lips opened... God, you loved him.

With a loud grunt as he pushed into you as far as he could, he released his seed into you, warmth flooding through you. He held you in place, foreheads still pressed against each other’s, as you both panted and cam down from your high. It took a few minutes before either of you moved, “Hi,” Peter said, moving back and grinning.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you whispered with a giggle as you looked around at the alleyway, cheeks on fire.

Gentle, Peter helped you down though had to steady you as your legs trembled, “God, you’re just too good,” Peter smiles as he fixes his clothes, buttoning his jeans back up and sorting himself. You grab your underwear, pulling them on quickly before leaning back against the wall when you were finished.

“Gonna be honest,” you said with a yawn, finding yourself suddenly rather sleepy, “Don’t think I’m able to walk.”

Peter laughed, “Good thing you’ve got your boyfriend who can get you home in minutes, eh?” He loves seeing you like this; the post-sex glow, rose coloured cheeks with glazed over eyes and hyper-sensitive to every touch. You love him like this too, his messy hair (from your doing), his chest moving fast as he tries to catch his breath... You just love him. You hope that your relationship never changes even as the two of you get older. He always brought such a fun energy to things and you hoped that never changed; that he never stopped making you laugh.

He opens his arms, “Ready, love?” You move into him, wrapping around him, before he shoots a web upwards and you’re off. You’re more than used to the swinging by now and these days, it’s actually rather pleasant. You hide your face in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes as his strong arm pulls you closer. He smiles as you do so, he loves that you trust him this way. He remembered the first time he took you for a swing, the way you screamed and clung to him, the way you panicked and couldn’t bear it after only a few seconds but now? Now, you were fully comfortable, you could probably fall asleep like this to be honest. The way he glided with you, so smooth and gentle, that yes, you decided, you could definitely fall asleep like this.

It’s not long before Peter lands softly, patting your thighs to let you know that he’s here. You’re on the roof of the apartment building and Peter takes your hand once your two feet are on the ground and leads you through the door and down to your floor. You’re still in a sort of daze as he leads you to your shared apartment before leading you inside, “Bath or shower?” He asks.

“Shower,” you hum, “so we can be there together.” Usually you’d like a bath to fully relax in but today you just wanted to be close to Peter, intimate in every sense of the word. You let Peter do the work, carefully taking your clothes off, eyes looking at you with still some lust but more so a look of care and adoration. You love moments like this, the post-sex aftercare where it’s soft and gentle and just the two of you. Peter turns the shower on, making sure it’s perfect temperature before helping you in. He strips himself off too before stepping in beside you. You wrap your arms around him as the water rains over the two of you. You just need to feel him, soft and warm.

He moves away after a few seconds to grab the soap, rubbing it in his hands to get to warm and wet before he starts to massage your body with it. He isn’t touching you like how he was earlier, this time he’s taking care of you in a different way, careful with his touches as he cleans your chest and between your legs. The whole atmosphere has shifted to one of pure lust to pure love. There’s a vulnerability in your actions, he sees you for all that you are and you see him for all that he is too. He takes care of you, cleaning and washing your skin gently, pressing gentle kisses to your stomach and your hands as he washes them. God, he loves your body; loves the curves, the stretch marks that litter your body, loves every dimple, every roll; he adores all of you.

As he cleans you, you start to clean him, hands running over his muscles chest, feeling the bumps of scars as you lather him up. He smiles when you touch him, admiring his body and complimenting his physique. He wants to look good for you and appreciates when you admire him; appreciates the way you’re just as gentle with him. He loves being touched, in the years that he shut himself away after Gwen... he missed touch so when he found you, every touch was like the first time. It worked out good that he loved to be touched and you loved to touch him. Next, he worked shampoo into your hair, bubbling the tendrils of hair up before washing it all away. It felt so nice having him touch you like this, see you in your entirety and have him appreciate every inch of you. You could feel the love he had for you in every touch, so gentle and so kind. It takes a while to work the shampoo out of his hair but he doesn’t mind, it relaxes him just as much as it relaxes you. You wash his hair, unspeaking but smiling and it’s finished in two minutes. He wraps you in his arms once you’re both finished.

As you stand there, wrapped around one another bubble free, the water hits off of your back, Peter kisses your forehead, “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too.” You look up at him and smile, “Let’s get out of here and go cuddle?”

“You’re adorable,” he laughs, kissing your forehead again, “let’s go then.”

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bigfan-fanfic · 3 years

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Tight Pants (Male!Reader x Peter Parker)

Oh lord, if you did some tight pants fics, for tony and peter, involving them bending over, oh lord Christ give me strength

By the way, if you could please make tony and peter submissive for the right pants requests if you make them

“Peter Benjamin Parker, are you wearing a THONG?” you ask in absolute shock and delight.

Peter looks like he’s going to die in embarrassment, his suit pooled at his feet. “I- I need it under the suit. Everything else rides up under it and gives me a wedgie.”

“That can’t be comfortable.”

He sighs. “It isn’t. Why do you think I only do this Spider-Man thing for a few hours each day?”

He tries to grab a sweater from a nearby chair but you yank it away.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Y/N!”

“Keep it on just a little while longer. For me?”

“I-”

You smirk in that way you know he can’t resist and Peter chuckles wryly, obeying.

He glances at you. “Come on, babe, I’ve been wearing it for too long. Lemme out.”

“No. You’re my toy tonight.”

He smirks. “Like a life-size Spider-Man action figure?”

“Yeah. A big ol fully-articulated Peter Parker.”

“Is this gonna lead to... to...” he coughs, unable to say it aloud.

You wink. “If you’re a good boy.”

He goes bright pink but nods, shutting up and letting you manhandle him, bending him over his own bed, arms bent behind his back, fingertips touching opposite elbows.

He lets you spread his legs and then stare at him in his thong, shivering with anticipation

“I’m gonna buy you some better thongs, Peter. Can’t have my cute little action figure uncomfortable all day. And besides, you’ll think of me when you wear them.”

He whimpers a little, unable to hold it back.

“Now, you’re right. You have been wearing it too long.” you grin, reaching under the bed for your box of toys, to use on your big toy.

You spend all night playing with your new action figure...

#male reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x reader #spideman x male reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman headcanons #marvel headcanons #headcanons

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supercap2319 · 11 months

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Natasha narrowed her eyes as Peter came into the kitchen for a bottle of water as she saw something red on his neck. The spy immediately knew what it was as she set her back of chips on the counter. "Peter Parker? Is that a hickey?"

Peter looks at her and for a moment, he looks panicked and scared before he recovers. "What? A hickey–no. I umm... Fell down?"

"On Y/N's lips?" She asked, eyebrows raised.

"Shit–I mean crap!"

"Don't worry. I won't tell Tony about this. Maybe..." She smirks.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #mcu spiderman #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x male reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker #peter benjamin parker #natasha romanoff #scarlett johansson

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Hue and Cry IX

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), mild violence, male-iinduced anxiety

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The first day of the tournament arrives.

Note: My pupper had surgery yesterday and it was my longer day of work for the week so lots going on. Also had some bad Chinese but managed to get this out before it came back up. Feel better now and I'll have a shorter day today.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Lord Barnes’ mood did not improve in the days leading up to the first of the tournament. It grew colder in the capital and many feared the events would be cut short by an early winter. You didn’t care much either way. You had no interest in the sport or much of anything. You just abided the duke and in those times he left you alone, you laid in a void.

His want of you didn’t wane nor did your despair or the disgust you felt when he touched you. It was one thing to be a servant, to be a tool, a means to an end, but what he used you for now seemed little more than torture. He delighted in what he did, in how he made you suffer. Those times you remained unmoving and unfeeling angered him the most.

You dressed in yellow that morning. The horns announced the beginning of the tournament as you made your way to the stand amid the sea of guests. The wives, daughters, sons, mothers and fathers of those who would compete. You were out of place as you climbed the wooden steps between the benches and a green sleeve shot up to wave to you.

“Dearie!” May brushed past her husband to stop you at the end of their seat, “here, with us,” she insisted, “we did save you a place.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you said quietly. You hadn’t seen her or her family since the night of the feast. Since Barnes had…

“I can’t have you sitting alone,” she trilled as she pulled you along with her and sat beside Lord Benjamin who bowed his head and issued a gentle greeting. “And I always longed for a daughter, you know? Peter’s a good boy but so troublesome. I did try to persuade him not to enter the lists but he just never stops.”

“The boy’s old enough,” Benjamin said, “when I was his age--”

“You married me,” May cut in, “a foolish decision indeed. He is on the roster for today. Sparring. I fear he might not make it past the early rounds but so long as he is not hurt.”

You nodded and covered your hands in your sleeves. Even with the fur-trimmed cloak Barnes allotted you, it was crisp. Your matching cap barely kept the cool air from your cheeks. Your leg shook from more than the cold as you recalled that Barnes was set to compete with the sword as well.

“A fine cape,” May commented as she touched the edge of your cloak, “with sleeves even.”

You looked down at the fawn-coloured garment that only allowed a peek of the canary yellow beneath. You fidgeted and kept your eyes on the field, “a gift,” you lied, well, maybe it wasn’t a lie, or maybe you’d bought it in sweat and tears.

Another horn blew and she quieted and clapped as all looked to the center of the arena. The wooden stands were hung in all shades of silk, the banners of each house, high and low, covered the rafters. By the end of the day, only one would remain. Lord Barnes’ blue and ivory flapped opposite your side and Benjamin pointed out his family's slender red and black crest amidst the panoply.

You were thankful for the distraction, not for you but for them. You didn’t know how many lies you could conjure or if you could keep the false smile on your lips. You clamped your hands together and watched a man in gold stroll out to the centre of the stadium with a cone to project his voice. You stood with May and Benjamin and the rest of the onlookers

“Fine ladies and gentlemen, princes, paupers, and everything in between, we welcome you in name of King Samuel to the Games of Goblets. For each competition, the victor is to be prized a goblet to bear as a symbol of his prestige. For the ax-throwing, bronze inlaid with amber, for the bow-and-arrow, silver set with citrine, for the melee, gold set with sapphire, and for the joust, a fine piece in gold set with opal and ruby.”

The crowd applauded and shouted. The man waited for them to quiet again, “This day, we begin with the melee, on the morrow, the axe, the next day, the arrow, and on the final day, we ride!”

Again, the audience grew rowdy and you were deafened by the cheers. The man laughed at the excitement and held up his hand for a final lull.

“Without further delay, let us begin. In our first round, the lower lords and the untested, before the second where they shall meet our season veterans, and so on…” he gauged the fervent tension of the people, “you will see me again upon the finale and perhaps you will be surprised by whoever stands with me.”

Again, the stand quaked with the energy of the people. You would have liked to sit but you stayed on your feet, afraid to draw unwanted attention. The first pair was announced but you didn’t watch. You stared at the sky or a rippling banner but had no interest in the games.

You only stopped to look as Peter’s name was called out and May grabbed your arm. She squealed as her nephew came out decked in his used armor, beaten out from its former user’s wear, and he unsheathed his sword to face his opponent. When the handkerchief was dropped, you were as stunned as his fellow competitor and the crowd by his swiftness. You’d never seen anyone move so fast, and in at least twenty pounds of armor.

The crowd awoke from their awe and cheered as his sword beat against the other man’s suit with tinks and tunks. It was like a bell, ding, ding, ding. It wasn’t until the other man was on his knees that the spar was ceased. Peter was declared the plain winner and sent on to wait for his next engagement. May wiped away tears of joy and Benjamin grumbled his approval.

You smiled, just a little. You were happy for Peter. You’d seen how joyful he was, he was likely dancing behind the curtain right now.

🏰

It wasn’t until the second round that Lord Barnes was introduced. He walked out fully armoured like any other combatant but his left arm was permanently bent, a shield strapped to it as he gripped his pommel in his right hand. He showed his steel and faced his match. He dealt hard and heavy blows until his opponent was on his back.

You shuddered at his unboasting victory as he wasn’t even patient enough to hear himself declared the winner. You touched your cold cheeks and puffed into the bitter air. The bodies around you warmed the stands but you were chilled to the core.

Peter appeared again in the second, then the third, fourth, and to his aunt and uncle’s delight, he soldiered onto the final. To your fear, he was to meet Lord Barnes. You tried not to squirm, not to show how nervous you were for Peter. You thought of running down and begging him to withdraw but what could you say? If anything, you’d both be worse for it.

As the last two banners were presented to the crowd, you sensed movement to your right. A familiar head of blond hair approached and the tall duke pushed past the row of people along the bench. Lord Rogers smirked as he came close, his sweaty hair drooping down his forehead from his last bout, the one he’d lost to his closest friend.

“Ah, I found you,” he said, “lady.”

You felt May peek past you and you gave a meek “my lord” as he stood close. He looked around you at the older couple.

“You have friends,” he stated, “please, do introduce us.”

You looked down and chewed your lip. You turned slowly to May and Benjamin, the latter peering past her only as he was torn from his fixation on the field.

“Lord Benjamin and Lady May Parker, baron and baroness,” you rubbed your hands together nervously, “Lord Steven Rogers, duke of Astrens.”

“Oh, we’ve heard of him,” May chirped, “my lord, it is an honour.”

“Indeed,” Benjamin agreed, “my lady, you did not inform of us of your lofty friends.”

“She is modest,” Rogers intoned, “we met by chance, really, through a common acquaintance.”

“You were skillful on the field, it is a pity you were bested,” May said.

“Very pitiful, I did put some gold on you, Lord Rogers,” Benjamin added, “alas it was a fine showing.”

“Wasn’t it?” he turned to stand with his arm pressed to yours, much too close for your liking, “however this one should be intriguing.”

“It’s our boy,” Benjamin said, “and your friend, my lord.”

“Perhaps you’d take another bet?” Rogers countered.

“I’ve lost enough this day,” Benjamin snorted, “I’d rather watch and be pleasantly surprised than paupered.”

“Prudence is wise but always so boring,” Rogers mused.

As the lower of the lords, Parker was announced first and you were saved from more uncomfortable banter by the man in grey. Rogers nudged you and bent as the introductions went long as the man with cone went into detail about the day’s fights all the way to the present match.

“I did look fine out there, didn’t I?” he whispered, “good form, even if I did lose. Barnes is in a mood and we both know that makes him… unpredictable.”

You lowered your head, “my lord.”

“You are quiet since last we met,” he remarked, “perhaps your thoughts linger on how else to use your mouth?”

You squirmed and stared at the competitors as they awaited their signal. Rogers laughed and stood straight as he focused on the field in kind. He played with your sleeve and tugged your arm down. He caressed the back of your hand and stepped even closer.

“When he wins, he might just be cheerful enough to share in his celebrations, hmm?” he said under his breath.

The gold cloth was dropped and the two men circled each other, eyeing their opponent cautiously. Barnes was the first to act but was evaded by the younger man. He didn’t not falter however as he swung again. Peter rolled under the strike and met it with his own steel, batting it away so that it nearly struck its holder.

Barnes dodged that time, then the boy spun again. They danced around each other, both swift, both calculating, both determined. Steel met steel but never that which clothed the fighters. May grabbed your other wrist as she held her breath.

Barnes laid a hit across Peter’s chestplate that made him stagger but he turned it into another lithe evasion. He snaked around the higher lord and hammered his false arm. The shield cracked in half and Peter ducked again.

Barnes was angry as he stabbed out. His blade was shoved away again and Peter jumped over the foot that tried to trip him up, a true achievement in armor.

You realised as Barnes laid a flurry of blows at the air that he was angry. The crowd silenced as the realisation fell over them and they watched as time seemed to slow. The duke was losing and he was enraged.

Peter jabbed the other man’s chest plated with his sword then hit his true arm. The sword bobbled in Barnes’ grip but he regained his hold on it. Too slow as Parker struck over and over, throwing him off balance, and sweeping him off his feet with a low lunge.

As Barnes clattered onto his back, the breath went out of him and every other person in the stadium. The man in grey shook away his shock and finally stepped forward.

“Our victor!” he grabbed Peter’s arm and raised it, “the Lord Parker!”

May hopped up and down and hugged her husband. Steve tutted and shook his head. Your eyes clung to Barnes as he sat up, forgotten in the dirt. His left arm was stuck at an angle away from his body and he reached up to force it back down.

Peter offered him his hand and was ignored. Barnes sheathed his sword and offered a curt bow before he exited. Rogers’ hand crawled up your arm and he gripped you. “Well, looks like we both will suffer his loss.”

For once, he spoke the truth.

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