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silkscream · 1 year

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angel unaware

ꨄ︎ pairing: peter parker x silk!reader

ꨄ︎ synopsis: you’ve known peter since you were fifteen, shortly after you were both bitten by the same spider. it was too obvious that you’d end up loving him. as you drift apart during your first year of college, you’re not sure how much longer you can keep dancing in circles with him.

ꨄ︎ genres: best friends to lovers, angst, idiots in love, slowburn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort

ꨄ︎ tags: rated explicit/18+ (smut), alcohol usage, mention of drug usage, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), characters are 19, mild violence, gun violence (there is a school shooting in the beginning but there aren't too many details)

ꨄ︎ wc: 13.8k

ꨄ︎ notes: omg. happy valentine’s day y’all. i’ve been working on this Big Bertha for literal MONTHS and i’m so happy to finish it and share it with you. thank you for being around even though i haven’t been the most active; this is a gift to you <3

ꨄ︎ listen to the playlist!

The spider bit you first.

It isn’t until you’re fifteen that someone else finds out about it.

In many ways, you should’ve known. The symptoms, the hypervigilance, the strange, gradual transition of filling out your body. You blame puberty first, but this feels more than abnormal. It's almost as if it's bursting through your skin. The only other person who seems to mirror your coming of age is Peter Parker, whose twitchy nature exacerbates the longer high school goes on.

You keep your head low because there’s no reason for you to tell anyone about your powers. Not even the boy about whom you’re positive shares the same curse as you.

But then the videos come out. Red and blue lycra flying through buildings, a blurred figure saving cats from trees, webs shooting and swaying as onlookers stare like it’s a circus act. He calls himself Spider-man and you think it’s awfully corny.

You’d be a fool to think that you were safe from the antics of Avengers propaganda, rubble, and ash blocking your way to school on more days than not. You’d be a fool to think that you could evade the classic tropes of American violence that force the president to lament about "unthinkable tragedies" multiple times a year. At this moment, you’re a fool for getting yourself locked in a janitor’s closet while there’s an active shooter at Midtown High.

Your breath hitches when the doorknob jangles in front of you. On instinct, you stick yourself to the ceiling, far in the corner with your senses on fire. You’ve never actually had to attack anyone before. You aren’t entirely sure how this would play out with a gun involved.

Peter Parker’s labored breaths fill your eardrums, and without thinking, you shoot your webs directly at him. He stumbles, clumsily tripping over an empty mop bucket. He looks up at you in confusion. He’s wearing half of his suit.

"You. You just–"

"Shut the fuck up," you hiss, covering his mouth with your palm. In the darkness, your eyes widen. Someone is near.

It’s a stupid ordeal. The crime happening, this meet-cute, the way your senses feel haywire being this close to him. Both of you are holding your breath, your heart is pounding erratically in your chest, and blood is rushing through your ears.

The day ends with you and Peter making it out of the closet through a vent and the shooter getting subdued by the police. A troubled sophomore who barely knew how to use the gun in the first place made it easy for Spider-man to intercept the weapon the moment the kid raised his arms.

Peter follows you home that afternoon like a stray cat, babbling over a game of twenty questions that you aren’t in the mood to entertain. Somehow, his presence leaves your chest feeling warm and light, and you realize that you don’t mind the company. Twenty questions become routine.

He’s the only one who gets it, of course.

He tells you about the Avengers, ignoring the way you scoff under your breath. Secretly, you’re only a little jealous. Not because you want that kind of prestige or even a fancy suit, but because at least there’s a group of freaks out there who know. "How come you didn’t tell me?" Peter asks you. He looks small on your couch despite his sixteen-year-old sleeper build and the fact that he’s taking up more than half of your space.

"What do you mean?"

"If you knew about Spider-Man this whole time… why didn’t you say something?"

"What, like I was supposed to seek you out on the street with a mask on?"

He gives you a pointed look. "You had a feeling about me. In school. Didn’t you?"

You don’t answer, which, to Peter, is an answer in itself.

"I didn’t want to be any trouble. It’s my burden to deal with," you say slowly, blinking up at him.

Burden. Peter smooths the word over in his mind and watches the way your nimble fingers pick at the threads of your sweater. He suddenly feels guilty for pestering you with questions, especially after the trauma of today.

"It’s not a burden," he says carefully. You don’t protest, but he knows there’s a certain level of repression inside you that won't let you give this part of yourself up. As if his knowing about your powers would only be that — knowing. He keeps staring at your fingers.

"You don’t have web shooters?" He gestures to your hands.

"Comes from my fingertips."

"No fucking way. You gotta show me."

"You saw it today," you chuckle as you take a breath.

"Not really," he pouts. The amber-brown of his eyes is annoyingly irresistible, and you know it because of how hot the back of your neck suddenly feels. There’s a hint of a taunting smile on his face, as if he knows.

You take him to the fire escape outside your bedroom window. It’s barely past five and it’s already gotten dark. Luckily, your bedroom faces an empty alley.

"I’m not some circus act, just so you know," you warn him.

"Please," he tuts. "If anything, we both are. Two arachno-freaks."

"You should rebrand as that," you say with a grin.

You shoot a web to the fire escape railing above you, holding yourself up and swinging like you're in P.E. climbing a rope. You feel ridiculous, to say the least. You quickly shoot more webs after a quick scan of your surroundings to swaddle yourself in something resembling a cocoon. It hangs like a playground swing from the metal above.

"Holy shit! Does it ever… run out? Do you get web blocks? Does it come out of anywhere else–"

"I’m not answering that." Your cheeks heat up at the insinuation.

"Sorry, just curious." He holds his palms up in defense, then reaches to touch a fingertip to the silk holding you together. It feels soft like cotton candy and is much less sticky than what came out of his web shooters.

He asks you to swing with him, and for some reason, you say yes. You don’t like to swing very much, and if you do, you try to look for construction sites or abandoned scaffolding to evade attention. Tonight, however, the New York City lights look warm against the velvety backdrop of the sky, and you decide that flying through the air with someone else feels better than doing it alone.

____

He doesn’t understand your desire to stay under the radar. Whenever he brings it up, you take the opportunity to bring up the New York City disasters that have gone underway before the two of you even graduate. If anything, you’ve been a decent backup, but you refuse to be in the public eye. You don’t want to be Spider-girl.

But you don’t mind swinging around the city in your handmade suit, spun and woven together with the silk that flows straight from your fingertips. It’s one thing that Peter’s jealous of, but it helps him when he needs to patch up a wound when he’s on the go with you.

Peter comes through your window with a red gash on his thigh. You can smell him before you see him.

"Ugh, you broke the streak. Five days without a scratch. That’s a record for you, Parker," you sigh, already rummaging through your drawers for the usual first-aid kit.

"I’m fine." He winces as he crouches down carefully on the floor. You’ve gotten good at minding your business and not asking about his wounds, at least not ones that aren’t too deep into the flesh. He knows it would only hurt you if you knew.

"And yet you’re here."

"I wanted to see you. You know I always want to see you."

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You kneel before him, pouring hydrogen peroxide onto the gash as you dab gently with a hand towel. He hisses and grabs your forearm with more force than he intends to.

"You’ll be fine," you reassure him gently.

"Yeah. I could've done it, you know," he says as he carefully holds your gaze.

"‘S’fun sometimes," you reply without looking at him. Carefully, you wrap gauze around his leg. "When I was little, my neighbor and I used to play House, but it always turned into, like… Hospital. And I’d pretend to be a nurse and take care of her, I’d tuck her into bed, and I’d give her lollipops from my Halloween stash for being a good patient."

Peter chuckles. He wobbles slightly as he stands up with your help.

"Am I a good patient?"

"Mm. A very brave boy," you say as you pat his cheek.

"What, I don’t get a treat?"

"Your treat is staying alive." You take him by the wrist towards your living room couch.

He doesn’t know what he’d do without you. It’s not right for him to think of you as an extension of himself, but he often yearns for your presence like a phantom limb whenever you aren’t on patrol with him. He realizes you're the yin to his yang.

It excites him, the images of you two that end up on the Internet. How good you look together. You, on the other hand, dread any semblance of perception by the world.

"People are catching on, you know. Ned found a subreddit on you the other day," Peter murmurs into your lap.

You snort, rolling your eyes the way you always do. You fiddle with the soft strands of his hair. It’s second nature to you. "Ned needs to reduce his screen time tenfold."

"Rabbit."

You sigh dramatically at the nickname. He’d adopted it after the many jumpscares he’d give you when he’d sneak into your room at night. You’d become so accustomed to him that your spider-sense would dull when it came to Peter. He was your source of comfort.

"What, Pete?"

"Why don’t you patrol with me?"

"You know why." It’s too stressful. Too public. Too many run-ins with death that you can anticipate.

"It’s better when you’re around."

"You’re a big boy, Peter," you murmur. Your hand slides across his scalp again, this time with your fingertips settling in the space behind his ears. You aren’t looking at him; instead, you are watching the documentary on the television at a low volume. He crumples at your touch.

"May says you’re my guardian angel. Every time something really bad has happened, it always worked out because you were there."

"I mean, it probably helps when you have another Spider-person as a backup."

"I think she’s right, though."

You don’t say anything. You’re tempted to reply with something sardonic or self-deprecating. You put too much faith in me. But you can’t – he’s looking at you with something that you can’t fathom. Something earnest and entirely too fragile. You have to look away.

He hums, sighing into a tattered copy of Hamlet. "I can’t deal with any more Shakespeare."

"You’re such a slow reader despite being a goddamn genius."

"Did you just say something nice about me?" Peter raises a brow.

"Oh my God, relax, Big Bang Theory."

He scoffs and swallows down a smart-ass remark. A grin lingers in his mouth as he settles back into the book.

____

You’re apart from Peter for the first time since age sixteen. You don’t tell him – you don’t tell anyone – but you decide on an out-of-state university because you don’t want to feel tethered to him. Your friends consider you and Peter a package deal, and yes, he’s probably the first real best friend you’ve ever had, but the gnawing inside of you telling you that distance is needed doesn’t stop.

You, the black sheep, are the antithesis of your hero of a best friend, despite being bitten by the same spider. You’ve always wondered if your story was supposed to play out like some sort of Shakespearean tragedy because of your bond with Peter, so you decide to take your mind off of it. At least it won’t be as painful as severing it completely.

It feels free to be away from all the chaos. In Rhode Island, you can focus on your art and fold your feelings away in a neat little envelope. You’d rather die than let any of that out, especially when Peter insists on such frequent FaceTime calls.

Sometimes, you fall asleep to the sound of his voice. He tells you about taking a train down to Providence in the middle of September to visit you like some kind of long distance boyfriend. The thought makes something in your stomach bloom and stagger in the same way. He doesn’t keep his promise – chem labs are already kicking his ass halfway to Thanksgiving break, not to mention the crime rate in New York City rockets beyond normal.

Thanksgiving comes, and both of you are the same. Peter is exactly as boyish as you left him three months ago, though his brown hair has grown longer and he wears blue-light readers to help with the mild headaches he gets from staring at screens.

He isn't attached to your hip like you expected. Your week off is filled with missed texts and a marathon of TV shows about broken women—the kind with dark humor and falling in love with priests.

The next time you see him, your roommate is out of town. It's not an unusual occurrence given how little she spends time in the dorm, always elsewhere with her new boyfriend.

Peter takes up so much space in your bed that you almost offer to push the two twin beds together, but the feeling of his warmth is too comforting. Propped against the wall, you’re hip-to-hip with him as you scroll through Netflix on your laptop.

You can feel him staring. It becomes routine, or maybe it’s your senses, but you can always tell when he’s merely observing you, watching you carefully like ripples on a pond. You've never really chastised him about it, but it doesn't help that you know he can tell when you're nervous. He has you memorized.

He likes the way you look when you concentrate. Sometimes, when you’re deep in thought, he likes to take his thumb and smooth out the ridges of your furrowed brows even though you end up swatting him away. When he does this now, you look up at him with wide, doe eyes.

"Still as indecisive as ever."

"I have to be, otherwise you’ll just put on Gilmore Girls," you scoff.

"You’re the one who showed me that!" Peter protests.

"And then it was the only thing you wanted to watch to the point where I genuinely considered locking you out of my Netflix account!"

He doesn’t bother to argue, instead resorting to poking you in the side. You squirm immediately, yelping as he continues. He flashes you a leering grin as you whine in dissent, flinching from the feather-like touch of his fingertips dancing across your skin.

"You’re so annoying," you huff, curling your body toward the wall.

"And you love it."

More than you’d ever know.

You pause, rolling your eyes at him. You contemplate kicking him again just to get a rise out of him, anything other than the short silence between you that feels more present than it should be. Your stomach feels warm at his proximity, but then again, Peter’s built like a human furnace anyway.

When you attempt to playfully shove him, he catches your wrist with quick reflexes until the two of you are tangled together. It’s easy to fight with him when you’re both running off the same biological fuel. When he ends up on top of you, you forget how to breathe.

The two of you stare at each other like this, as if frozen in time. It’s you who looks away first, then back to his big brown eyes, settling a palm to his cheek. You can feel how hard he is. You wonder if he knows.

It’s something you’ve only thought about in your subconscious, in dreams, or in moments when you’re bandaging his wounds. How would it feel to have his skin all over yours? It’s a selfish thought, but it rings in your brain without warning at times like these, times of such closeness. The spider bit the two of you for a reason. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

It’s a curious thing for sure, but there are doors you don’t want to open yet.

"One episode and then I pick a movie," you mumble.

____

You don’t tell him about transferring when you come back for Christmas break. It feels embarrassing, despite knowing that he’d be ecstatic about the news. RISD proved to be too difficult for your one-track mind as you found yourself sleeping in more and more, flaking on the most rigorous of classes due to your mood. You’d successfully gotten into Pratt for the next semester and were fully moved out, thankfully. But when you see Peter in the arms of another, you wish you hadn't left.

You should’ve expected it, maybe. Peter had always had a thing for Michelle Jones but could never quite get past the friend zone. It seems as though your absence has nudged him further.

No, that feels too selfish to say.

But it’s still too difficult to bear in the loneliness of December, knowing that when the New Year’s parties hit, you’re still the black sheep. Even in a shiny little dress.

You don’t see him much over winter break, but he gets you a silver necklace for Christmas with a spider pendant hanging on it. It’s more sentimental than you expect, and it’s the nicest gift you’ve ever received. It certainly beats the Lego set you’d gotten for him.

Now, in your black cocktail dress, you smile dopily at Ned Leeds as the rest of the room counts down at the television, waiting for the ball to drop. It’s bittersweet when you remember last year’s countdown, in which Peter insisted the two of you swung out to Manhattan to watch the ball drop in person. You remember how much you wanted to kiss him then, but you didn’t. Thank God for his hero's anonymity and the impediment of his suit.

"Five, four, three, two, one – Happy New Year!"

Makeshift confetti falls to the ground as you watch him and MJ kiss. There’s enough champagne in your system for your heart to grow warm at the sight of it.

____

January is cold. Desolate. Even if you have your friends around you in New York, the place that feels most like home, you’ve come to realize. But there’s still something missing, something lacking. Like you’re inside a familiar place inside a dream.

You ignore the itch, learning to numb it with champagne. It worked on New Year’s, and now it’s been working for several weeks. You don’t leave your apartment.

Even though Peter Parker is a text or phone call away, you fade into the background of his life, watching him through newsreels and YouTube videos. You’re on his mind more than you’d expect. He doesn’t know why, though he does realize that your absence bothers him in small ways.

Sometimes, when he’s on patrol, he’s frustrated by his loneliness, especially in the dead of winter. You were never one to play the hero – he knew that – but it was still comforting to have someone to patch up his wounds or soften his fall. The webs that flow from your fingertips have always been strong, enough to form hammocks in between the corners of his bedroom or a makeshift suit.

And then there are the dreams. They feel real, vivid, and much too physical for something that his mind could conjure in his unconscious. You had only kissed him once before (in real life, that is), at a stupid basement party in the ninth grade, before the two of you were friends, but shortly after the initial spider bite. Although it’s something that’s only been brought up as a joke these past few years, Peter remembers vividly how hard his heart was pounding when the glass bottle landed on you after what felt like an excruciatingly long spin. He could never forget the feeling. He wonders if you feel the same.

It’s not something he should be thinking about right now. Especially when you’re not his girlfriend. He’d rather die a thousand deaths than have you know what you do to him in his dreams when you’re nothing but a reverie of your own silk-spun webs and soft, bare skin. You treat him like prey. He loves it.

Peter can nearly smell you, that sandalwood-citrus shampoo of yours, and your warm breath over his face. Your little whispers of praise, your tiny whimpers. The image of your eyes struggling to stay open while you’re underneath him is burned into his brain.

"I missed you," you say breathlessly. "Missed you so much."

God, how is this a dream? He can feel you so clearly. Until he doesn't, and he wakes up with a groan, an exhale, and an excess of sweat on his brow. Not to mention a dampness below him.

"Fucking Christ," he curses under his breath.

The ghost of you is on his bedroom ceiling, in the corner of his room. Something nearby smells like you, even though you haven’t been in his room in ages. This makes something in his chest hurt until he decides to get out of bed.

He wants to see you, but he feels guilty knowing what he's just dreamt about. He can’t help that the person that makes him feel the most human is the only other one who shares the venom in his blood.

Sometimes he follows you. It feels almost meditative for him to sit on a rooftop and watch you from the window of your favorite cafe, reading and writing and breathing. The brightness of his phone screen illuminates his face as his eyes scan over your contact. Your face smiles back at him, but there’s a distance considering the lack of texts between the two of you over the past month. He sighs as he zooms in on your location – the two of you had shared each others’ years ago and only found it convenient to keep.

Peter doesn’t know why he’s feeling all this yearning all of a sudden – sometimes he recognizes the feeling in his body and he thinks of you and he thinks of safety. Other times, like now, he knows that it only breeds guilt.

But he misses being quiet with you, misses the mundane intimacies of him poking you and you fixing his hair. All the small expressions you make with your face that only he notices. There’s something empty in the space he usually holds for you in his heart, and he doesn’t know why.

He has to see you. Maybe then, something in his brain will click, or he’ll see you as the old friend you’ve always been, and he can blame the heat in his body on his subconscious.

You’re predictable with your routine, because this afternoon, he finds you in your usual spot by the window at your favorite cafe again. You’re writing in your journal with your noise-canceling headphones on, so Peter’s presence is completely unknown to you. After he gets his coffee, he watches you from afar, just for a little bit.

As if on cue, you already know. The moment you skip a song and a millisecond of silence fills the space in your head, you feel him immediately. You always know when he’s around.

"Peter," you murmur without thinking. Your gaze is soft but carries the surprise of a deer caught in headlights.

"Hey," he smiles. "Mind if I sit here?"

He gestures to the armchair across from you, and you nod.

Peter knows how to coax your warmth from you, because within minutes, he has you talking about school, what’s on your mind, and why it feels better to be holed up in a cafe than sit miserably at home. You do the same for him, though you notice he’s more reserved for some reason – he’s tight-lipped about MJ, and doesn’t delve into the details of his hero work. He prefers to bombard you with questions instead, listening intently to your most recent fixations or the newest movie you saw alone in theaters.

"You replaced me yet, Rabbit?" he teases you.

"Never," you scoff, tipping your coffee cup to hide any embarrassment on your face. You haven’t heard him call you that in so long. "You know me. I’m a lone wolf."

"Pratt seems like your crowd though, no? No one at Midtown High was a match for you. You were way too cool."

"Mmm, true, yet you’re my best friend."

"Hey!"

Your laugh is like a song to him; he can’t help but smile ear to ear when he hears it.

"The only person who talks to me at school is this guy Cam from my ceramics class. He’s actually from Brooklyn so we took the train together to get home and he’s around for break, which is cool."

Peter’s face nearly goes cold at the sound of someone else’s name, though he stays composed.

"Fun. Are you two…" He gestures vaguely.

"We hooked up like, once, but I don’t really know where it’s going." You say it so nonchalantly like it’s an afterthought. You’re not even looking at Peter.

"If he fucks anything up, you know where to find me."

You smile, rolling your eyes in that bashful way you do when you shrug things off, and it’s more apparent to Peter now how much he adores all your little quirks and mannerisms. He realizes that he might have them all memorized.

"We’re actually going to a party tonight if you want to come. A friend of a friend’s birthday party in Manhattan, I think? I think her name was Anna?"

"Oh, my friend Gwen knows her and invited me!"

"Small world." You swallow down the image of Peter at the party with an ESU girl for a second, and it feels rough in your throat. But you’ll manage. You always do. "Is MJ coming?"

Peter shakes his head. "Ah, she’s in Philly visiting family. I’ll probably go with Gwen and her boyfriend Harry, though."

You feel shame in your relief. It’s sickening how much you have to bury your desire and your tenderness because you know better. You know that even though the two of you were bitten by the same spider, it doesn’t mean you’re necessarily compatible. Sometimes you think your attraction to Peter is some biological fluke determined by the cells in both of your bodies. And then you think, God, how can anyone look into his brown eyes and not feel a thing?

You're both warm in your chests as you part ways, waiting for your next meeting.

____

The night of the party, Peter revels in the sight of you wearing your spider necklace, which sparkles under the flashing lights of the penthouse apartment you’re both in. His mood dampens when he notices the tall boy attached to your hip like a guard dog.

It’s a stupid game and he knows it. The way he pretends not to see you or acknowledge your presence is cruel, but it feels safe for now. He doesn’t feel ready. He’s high off some gummy that Harry had given him an hour earlier, and it’s still fogging his senses, and even though he can be cloudy and nonchalant at this party, his paranoia precedes him. It feels like you’re everywhere.

He shouldn’t feel this way. Why does he feel this way? You’re his best friend and you have your own life that’s separate from his – he knew this would happen the moment he found out you were going to different colleges. Despite that, there’s a piece of you tethered to him that he can’t bear to cut off. It makes him feel sane, the parts of you that you’ve given him.

But now, he sees you laughing and swaying your hips with someone else’s hands resting on your waist and it makes his face burn.

"Dude," Gwen snaps her fingers in front of his face. Peter blinks back at her. "Are you good?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"Harry wanted to do a shot, you want to join?"

Peter nods numbly, following the blonde to the kitchen. He watches everyone else in the kitchen pour shots and drinks like they are rehearsed marionettes. Harry snaps him out of his daze once he slams down a shot glass full of vodka in front of him.

"Drink up, Parker!" Harry cheers.

The alcohol burns Peter’s throat, but he feels the head rush and the warmth. It feels good, makes him feel looser. Malleable. Invincible, maybe, if he took two or three more. But he knows he has to pace himself. He hates that his default setting is to look for you no matter where he is. But when he scans the room this time, you’re downing a glass of champagne alone.

Your body feels heavy at the moment, so you don’t register him plopping down on the couch next to you. You wake up to the sound of his voice as you always do.

"Hey, you."

"Hey."

Your glass of champagne is empty, so you take the beer bottle out of Peter’s hand without saying a word, and he lets you. He watches you gulp a bit of it down. Maybe you’re a little too drunk. Maybe you’re imagining the way his eyes scan your body.

You’re drunk enough to feel social, but truthfully, you’re deathly afraid of being alone with anyone right now. Being alone with someone would make you feel much too raw and vulnerable, so you convince Peter to introduce you to his friends that you’ve never met, and you try to cope with the fact that they look like they were cut straight out of a magazine.

"Peter talks about you all the time," Gwen gushes, sipping from her champagne flute.

"He does?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course," she nods incessantly.

"Only incredible reviews all around," Harry nods, drunkenly slinging an arm around Peter’s shoulders. The brunette smiles sheepishly, bashfully. You raise an eyebrow at him along with a coy smile.

"Should hope so," you tease. "He wouldn’t have gotten through high school without me."

It’s mostly a lie considering Peter was the star student and you were barely second to him. Maybe fifth or sixth. In a way, your words are true, because Peter’s agreeing with you.

You zone out as he starts a story from junior year and you have half the mind to chime in when needed. Harry suddenly puts a whisky coke in your hand and you don’t want to refuse out of politeness, but you know the mix of different alcohol will have your head banging in the morning. Peter downs half of his within a millisecond.

"What?" he asks when he notices you making a face.

"Since when do you drink so much?"

"It’s a party," he shrugs.

"Peter, when I brought you to your first party, you refused to drink anything that wasn’t a fruity canned cocktail. You won’t go near wine let alone whiskey."

"A semester at ESU changes you," Harry interjects. "He’s still a little fruity, though."

Peter chastises him as you and Gwen laugh. As the boys bicker, Gwen gets your attention. She asks you mundane questions, like your major, your zodiac sign, and what you thought of the season finale of White Lotus. You’re grateful when she beckons you to follow her to the kitchen to make another whiskey coke.

Her glossed lips twist to the side, eyes bright with a teasing glance. She has the ability to make you feel calm, almost excited to be there.

"He is obsessed with you," she sneers.

"What do you mean?"

"He just talked about you so much when we met him that I had to stalk your Insta, and I was like Jesus Christ, that makes so much sense. If I wasn’t with Harry I’d snatch you up myself. And then when I met his girlfriend and I was confused that it wasn’t you. Unless you’re doing that, like, exes-that-are-still-best-friends thing."

You blush and nearly choke on your drink. "Peter and I never dated."

"Seriously?"

You say nothing, only forcing an amused smile. You don’t know where to put her assumptions, but you sure as hell can’t keep them.

"I’m actually, uh, here with someone," you mutter, pretending to look around. Briefly, you lock eyes with Peter on the couch, who’s pretending to listen to Harry's rambling. Your eyes flit away quickly. "I think I might step outside for a smoke and look for him."

You don’t have to turn around to know that Peter’s eyes are following you. Or maybe you’re just drunk and projecting. Gwen’s bubbly nature makes her seem like the type to gossip, and just because your best friend happened to talk about you doesn’t mean that there was anything under the surface. But then you notice his slightly nervous energy tonight, the silver necklace around your neck, and the last time he visited you months before, when his body was so close to yours.

A pair of hands situate themselves on your waist and it makes you jump. The warmth feels different, as does the sudden smell of sharp cologne, and then you feel your heart drop the slightest bit when you hear his voice.

"Was looking for you," Cam slurs. You can smell the beer breath as he exhales on your neck, making you shiver.

"You sure? Because you’ve been MIA for like forty-five minutes."

You try to keep your voice even, sighing when he plants a kiss on your neck. Any animosity in your tone is completely ignored.

"I was catching up with some people that I wanted to introduce you to," he says, tugging you along by the wrist like a child. You pull up a chair to a firepit surrounded by a group of strangers, and the charade of icebreakers returns. There’s no point in remembering anyone’s name.

You think about returning inside to look for Peter or maybe Gwen and Harry, but being on Cam’s lap is distracting you. At some point, a joint a passed around, and the feeling of the boy’s arms around you makes it easy to melt into nothing.

____

You’re right. You always are. Peter Parker doesn’t drink, and he’s never drunk this much in his entire life. He’s been sitting in the bathtub for… how long? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that his senses were dulled to the point of detachment and he needed to get alone to ground himself.

He’s so out of it that he doesn’t realize someone’s knocking on the door of the bathroom, and his reaction time is too slow before Harry barges in.

"Are you hiding in the bathtub?" Harry squints.

"No, I’m just… hangin’ out," Peter stammers.

Harry snaps out of the facade of a confused daze and shrugs, unbuckling his belt with nonchalance in front of the toilet.

"Dude!"

"What? I’m turned around!"

Sighing, Peter looks around his surroundings. Generic brand shampoo and conditioner. A deformed bar of soap. A red solo cup with clear liquid. He remembers suddenly – he’d filled an empty cup he found with sink water before getting in the tub.

His brain swims with dizziness and mild nausea that mix up his stomach. Gulping down the water, his throat burns immediately, only to realize that it isn’t water at all. It’s fucking vodka and seltzer. Harry’s turned around again, cackling before washing his hands.

"Idiot."

"Fuckingshitjesusfuckingchrist," Peter groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You should just drink straight vodka at this point, man."

"Oh, I do," Harry agrees. He crouches down, squatting to meet Peter at eye level. A warm palm taps Peter’s cheek. "You good, bro?"

"Mmm," Peter nods. His breathing turns shallow as he hunches over, pulling his knees into his chest.

"Jesus, you need to get home, don’t you?"

"‘m fine. You go home."

"Gwen’s been nagging me to for the past ten minutes, so I might. I’d let you crash on the couch, but we’re getting up early to go upstate. How are you getting home, bro?"

Harry frowns when he realizes Peter is barely listening. "Pete!"

He grimaces at Harry’s constant fidgeting. With an annoyed sigh, he shoos the other boy away with flailing arms.

"Heard you," he slurs. "I’ll– I’ll share an Uber with Y/N."

Harry sighs with exasperation, pulling Peter’s arm forcefully to get him out of the tub and down to the living room of the house. Peter is dizzy in his vision, clumsy in his movements, but finds clarity when he glances towards the couch and sees you sitting there with furrowed brows.

"Peter? Are you okay?" you ask.

"Yeah, absolutely not," Harry says. "Gwen and I gotta head home and we’re leaving early tomorrow so he can’t crash. You guys are like, neighbors, right?"

You swallow a lump in your throat, briefly turning your head to glance back at Cam, then back at Peter. He looks at you with a guilty cadence, though his eyes lull with a tiredness that is unusual for him. He’s corpse-like, still hanging onto Harry’s shoulder like a lifeline. It makes the pit of your stomach stir.

It’s unlike him, to be this drunk. The only other time Peter has been this drunk was once in high school, when he was slurring his words all night and determined to clutch you like a teddy bear in his twin-sized bed. You recall his warmth and how his post-puberty figure appeared gargantuan to your body. Foreign, but warm. Comforting. When you think about taking Peter home tonight, you feel like you aren’t allowed to lay next to a body that doesn’t belong to you.

"Yeah, I’ll take him home."

____

"Coulda swung home myself," the boy mumbles. You hit him on the arm and give him a chastising look. Thankfully, your current Uber driver speaks a limited amount of English, not to mention the radio is on blast.

"You couldn’t have. You’re so fucking drunk, you’d kill yourself," you hiss in a low tone.

"Not if you were with me."

"Well, I wouldn’t be. I wasn’t even gonna go home tonight."

"Ah. Of course. Cam,” he exasperates. “Is he your boyfriend?"

You sigh. "No, he’s not."

"Right, you don’t… you don’t do boyfriends," Peter murmurs, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

The car stops in front of Peter’s apartment building.

"Thank you," you say stiffly to the Uber driver as you drag Peter out of the car. The elevator ride is awkward and quiet, as is the fumbling of keys when Peter tries to unlock the door.

He leans on your body as you coerce him into his bedroom, with him thumping onto his bottom bunk.

"Jesus. I feel like if Richie Rich called you an Uber himself you could’ve easily made it up the elevator by yourself. Right, Pete?"

"Mhmm. He’s such. A worry wart. For some rea–" Peter makes a gulping sound that makes your face pale. Immediately, you grab his trash bin and place it between his feet.

"‘m not gonna puke."

"I think you might, Peter."

He pauses and examines you as you kneel in front of him. He’s so drunk, so awfully drunk, but he has enough sense in him to take the caution that the anxious voice in the back of his head commands. But fuck, you look so pretty. He doesn’t know what to do about it.

Peter takes a strand of your hair in his hands and curls it around his finger. His shallow breaths feel louder than they should be. Or maybe they’re yours. He can’t really tell.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shrugs. "I won’t vomit. I promise."

You sigh.

"I should get going–"

"Can you stay for a little?"

Swallowing, you nod. You get into bed with him, because, quite frankly, you’ve had your fair share of alcohol tonight, and laying down in Peter’s warm bed makes you want to melt off the bone.

"I'm sorry for fucking up your night." Peter turns to lie on his side and drapes an arm carefully around you. His hand is feather-bare on your hip.

"You didn’t."

"You were gonna go home with Cam."

"It’s fine, Peter. I wanted to make sure you were safe."

"Like a chore."

"Not like a chore."

"Yeah, okay."

He does that thing again – holds a strand of your hair in his hands. He runs his fingertips nimbly across your scalp as if he’s handling an injured bird. As if he’s afraid you’d bite.

Your eyes are huge, like flying saucers. He used to say that all the time, especially whenever you came to his apartment after experimenting with any new drugs. You only felt safe with him – you had told him that – and he took care of you and your big eyes and your tendencies toward erratic behavior. He always knew how to calm you down. And now, in your adult lives, you were doing it for him.

You let him keep his hands in your hair and he doesn’t know why. There’s a theory he wants to test – one that he dreams about even when he knows he shouldn’t. He thinks about it in vulnerable moments. He considers that maybe this is a vulnerable moment.

His fingertips trace your face between the edge of your eyebrow and the baby hairs on your hairline. He taps along your temple gently, smoothing across the softness of your skin until he sculpts down your cheek and jaw. He blinks once, then twice. And then he rests the pad of his thumb on the corner of your mouth.

Almost automatically, you part your lips. Your mouth is pink, dusted with a purplish-red in the center from the merlot you’d drank hours before, and he wants to lick it off you.

He feels your heart beating, too, and you can hear his. It's a loud bang that resonates in between your eardrums. It’s that shared venom that makes your bodies so acquainted with one another. You briefly consider whether a human body can overheat and burn away simply by being touched by another. You wonder how human the two of you can really be.

You close your eyes.

"What are you doing?" you whisper. Your voice is gossamer-thin, barely there, but you’re so close to him that he hears it so clearly.

"Whatever you want." His voice is dripping honey.

You shake your head, still with your eyes closed. Peter’s hand descends to your jaw, thumb on your bone, with the rest of his fingers warming up your neck. You feel like you might just choke on the feeling of it.

"No, that’s not fair. That’s not… okay."

"What?"

"You’re drunk, Peter. Don’t do that to me. Please."

"What am I doing?"

Your face scrunches up as your eyes open to look at him with a pained expression. You have to close them again. You don’t want to look at him. You want his hands off of you, so you push them away.

"You’re with MJ."

"I… I know."

Your face is crumpled as you inch out of his bed. You’re back to kneeling on the floor in front of him.

"Please don’t leave," Peter whispers.

"I’m tired. I’ll sleep on the top bunk," you mumble. You try not to let him catch you sniffling.

"Goodnight.” You don’t respond.

He falls asleep shortly after and smells your perfume even in his dreams. When he wakes up, he smells you. But you’re nowhere to be found. There’s only the cold air coming from a crack of his window left slightly open.

____

It’s not your fault, but you’ve broken his heart a million times. The night of the party was the most recent one. To be fair, he had also broken your heart. He was just too fucking drunk to remember most of it.

You’ve become a ghost, barely texting Peter back, and when you do, your responses are short and clipped. You don’t have much time to hang out, and he realizes he doesn’t either, not when he has MJ to spend time with along with his Spider-Man duties.

But he would make time for you if you wanted it. He wonders if you know that. He feels too ashamed to tell you that himself.

It’s been like this before, and he’s been able to cope. The way you’re on his brain and won’t leave —stuck on him like a parasite. It’s his fault, he decides, not yours. He knows he’s not being fair. Not to you, not to MJ, not to himself. But he keeps it all in and hopes it doesn’t boil over.

Truthfully, Peter wants to avoid everyone. He understands now why you abhor winter to the degree that you always have. The desolation is too much to bear when there’s not much sunlight in January to activate dopamine receptors, so Peter sleeps in longer than he should. Late enough for Aunt May to get on his case about it.

"Something’s up with you," MJ accuses him on a Thursday evening. It’s one of their ritual movie nights with pizza and wine.

"Huh? Nothing’s up," Peter shrugs.

"No, I know you. Something’s wrong."

"I’m fine, Em." A lie.

It’s a miracle that Michelle Jones sees through Peter’s bullshit because it means that she has the incentive to protect herself from any future bullshit that may break her later on. Peter is too numb to process any of it. There was the refusal of admission, the attempt to keep up the wall of his emotions, which crashed down soon enough by the time MJ was out of the door.

He thinks he should call you, but he doesn’t.

____

Peter is used to scrapes and bruises. He’s seen more than enough charred flesh than a nineteen-year-old should. You had never asked to be his caretaker, but over the course of years, that was what you became. His guardian angel.

He used to make excuses to come over after patrol, trying to coax you out of your nest of a room for just an evening. He'd always known you were far more talented than you gave yourself credit for when it came to spider abilities, but it felt more like a curse than a gift for you to bear.

Some nights, he dreams of you falling stories beneath him. Your face is covered in rubble and ash, and although his nightmares often start with this, he knows that somehow, it’s his fault. It feels visceral, the burning in his calloused hands. Torn lycra to show the dirt underneath his fingernails. Hot tears dripping.

He starts taking that Ambien you gave him years ago.

After that, each day passes like he’s trapped in a nightmarish purgatory. No, that’s an exaggeration. He’s just a victim of a New York winter, and he misses you more than he wants to admit to himself or anyone else.

"I can take care of myself." And with that, the image of you disappears.

"I know," he murmurs softly. He’s always known. It is insignificant in comparison to how badly he wants to take care of you if you let him. Your voice echoes in the cavern of his room. You get farther away by the second until you disappear completely, and he evidently wakes up.

Even in your worst state, he’s obsessed with your honeyed skin. It doesn’t matter the number of bruises or cuts – he caresses them all with his nimble fingertips, and he’s ready to kiss them until they heal. He thinks about this sometimes, how much he cares for you and your body. What he'd do if you just let him in, let him devour you however he pleases, and it disgusts him.

In his dreams where you’re hurt, he’s willing to sacrifice whatever he can so that you can revert to your clean, unbothered state. I’d never let anyone break you. It’s a prayer for him. One that he whispers in your ear whenever he can, at least in these dreams. In reality, he knows that he has to let you go because he knows you. Knows how much you want to be free and alone. How you can take care of yourself. You’re not a damsel in distress – you never have been. But Peter feels like he was made to care for you. It would gut him all the same regardless of whether you loved him or not, and he was willing.

When it’s real, he doesn’t know what to do. He didn’t ever think the two of you would be in this position.

He’s been in enough battles to know how these things end. Mr. Stark had walked him through it all and been by his side while the rest of the Avengers repaired the other broken bits of the universe.

Right now is one of those unique times, the quiet and wretched ones, where Peter is contemplating breath after breath before imagining the full picture. Shambles of the street he’s in. The ache of his bruised body and the blood that he sees from yours, that he shouldn’t have seen, because you said it yourself. You’re not a fucking hero. So why is your blood streaked on the palm of his hands?

The distance between you and Peter doesn’t matter – it never does. The moment you’d felt a dread stirring in your stomach, there was a sharp pain in your head that refused to leave unless the working adrenaline in your body was satiated. It wasn’t the same adrenaline that circulated within you from a night of debauchery – instead, it felt like poison. A compulsory kind of pain, a sharp jolt to your senses. Tonight, you’d felt Peter in danger, and it would’ve killed you if you couldn’t get to him. He'd been the destination you'd been dead set on by the end of the night because of your spider instincts.

The police broadcast was too muffled for you to understand much of it, but you picked out the parts where Spider-Man was mentioned and followed through on them. Although you didn’t fall into the shadow of his hero work, you still kept enough tabs on Peter to know where he would usually be on patrol. It wasn’t like he knew, or that you’d ever told him, but when he was starting out as another guard dog for the Avengers in high school, you needed to at least know his approximate location in the event that something went terribly wrong.

An explosion blasts in the center of a park, where the two of you would meet in the middle between Queens and Stark Tower. This is where you lay your courage down. This is where you find Spider-Man’s mangled body before anyone else does.

"Peter," you huff. "S’gonna be okay. You with me? I’m gonna make sure you’re okay."

He’s just less than conscious, the stretch of his animated eyes limited by his weakness. When he sees your face, however, his face glows – not that you can see it through his mask.

He says your name with a fervor that surprises you. His voice is raspy.

"‘m fine. I have to stay," he grunts, his pain palpable. You know that he’s telling the truth, but you don’t want to leave him alone in his misery.

"Peter. You’re hurt."

"You go home. I’ll come find you later. Just let me–"

"You’re fucking limping."

You had always carried yourself like a feather-like, lithe ghost. Quiet, whereas Peter was bold, despite the fact that his anxious nature had rendered him a boyish thing all these years. This is why he’s surprised that you carry him easily with your supernatural strength. He forgets that you have the same abilities as him. If anything, he’d think you were stronger than him in every way.

Even with his thick skin, he melts into something malleable, comfortable. The solace of your arms makes him feel better already.

A pang of small guilt rots away within him, knowing the circumstances of your last meeting. You’re too good. He didn’t deserve to be saved by you, to be patched up with your nimble fingers like he had been treated when he was younger and more naive.

"I can make it to my place, it’s okay," he rasps gently.

You don’t have to say anything, because bullshit radiates through the stern expression of your eyes, your mouth in a grimace. You had always been stubborn and today isn’t an exception. With your webs, you crochet a path for him toward your home, lifting and catching the boy effortlessly as you swing.

A gentle sigh escapes his mouth when the two of you crawl into the safety of your fire escape. The night is quiet behind you. When he looks at you, you have to look away, fixing your hair nervously or occupying your gaze anywhere but in his direction. His eyes are poignant in their longing, though you’re unsure of what he could be thinking. If he’s sorry about before. If he’s ashamed.

Your wispy webs wrap around the parts of him that hurt, but you wince when you check on him to see that the white fibers are slowly saturated with the dark crimson of his open wounds.

"Peter, you have to wash up," you whisper. "Shit’s gonna get infected. I can put some gauze on you after you shower."

He nods wordlessly when you ask him if he can manage the shower on his own. He feels vulnerable, and although your presence is always desired by him, he finds relief in the hot steam of your shower, alone with his thoughts. He’s still shaken from the explosion. Not completely catatonic, but tense. As if he isn’t in his body at all.

When Peter emerges from the bathroom, he looks like a stranger. Scars adorn his sides. Your face crumples at the sight of his fresh wounds.

"C’mere."

It doesn’t take you long to fix him up, cleaning his cuts and wrapping gauze around his stomach and chest. His quiet grunts startle you, as if he's a wild animal. Eyes screwed shut, brows cinched in pain. A heavy exhale and a mumbled apology followed.

You forgive him with a soft touch and a hushed whisper. He wishes the ache would stop. He wishes he could lie on your bed and have you whisper in his ear all night until the sound of your voice lulls him to sleep.

There aren’t many words exchanged, and you want to ask him why. If you did something. But then you think about the images on the news and his withered face, and you decide not to probe the sphere of trauma surrounding him. Peter has probably gone through more in the last twelve hours than you have in a week.

You stop him before he tries to make it out of your bedroom door and towards the living room.

"I don’t mind sleeping on the couch, I’ve done it before."

"It’s like sleeping on a rock, Parker. You just gone through God knows what," you chide. "Just… get in here."

As he breathes in and out, he nestles in your shoulder, his clean hair tickling your bare skin. There’s a nasty guilt that lurches from your sternum. As if you were the reason for his pain. For the state of his body. And you think back to the desperate look in Peter’s eyes the night you took him home from the party. Were you too cruel, then?

It’s like he steals the words from your mouth. He beats you to it.

"I’m sorry," Peter murmurs. His amber eyes blink up at you, unfathomable. You flash him a downturned grin.

"For what?"

"I feel like… there’s been a distance between us lately. And I don’t want that, because you’re my best friend. And now you’re taking care of me when you don’t have to. I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate it. That I, um, lo–," he stammers. He chews on his bottom lip. "You’re really good."

"‘m not all that good, Peter."

But of course, you are, he protests in his head. You are the moon and the stars and everything in between.

"I’m sorry for not being around."

"Not just your fault," you shrug. "Phone works both ways."

He knows you better than you think because, within seconds, his palm rests softly on your cheek, where he feels a hot tear.

"What’s up, Spidey?" he asks you. It makes you laugh.

"Shut up." You shake your head, trying to hide your face. The feeling of his thumb rubbing your cheek makes the tears flow even more. "I wouldn’t know what I’d do if something bad happened to you. If I couldn’t get to you. Or if you – if you were gone."

"I’m okay, Rabbit. We’re okay."

"Yeah," you chuckle, trying to hide your tears.

"Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried."

You feel warmer in his grasp. His small breaths fall on your arm as his body curls up next to you. He’s bigger than he’d been before back when you were teenagers. The jaw is chiseled and sharp. Not as soft and boyish as you once knew. With your senses, you can discern the steadiness of his heartbeat as his chest rises and falls into slumber. You fall asleep soon after, dreamless but full of warmth.

____

Waking up next to him is nothing new, but it’s been years. You never thought anything of it when the two of you were sixteen, staying up all night reading creepypastas and watching movies until you’d fall asleep on top of each other by four in the morning.

After a night’s sleep, Peter's sullen face is a bit brighter despite his dark circles. His limbs are entangled in yours, bodies fused together. Yin and yang. You can only assume that this is how it will always be.

You keep mental notes of him like trinkets. The uneven slant in his left eyebrow. The faint freckles dotted along his nose, the one near the corner of his mouth. The faint shadow of hollowed-out cheeks. Peter is still half-boy to you, and half-man, but you didn’t want to come to terms with it. Maybe he was something else. Half-ghost. Half-angel.

Slowly, over the course of a few weeks, he comes back to you again. Sitting together and reading at a cafe. The occasional 3 am swing. Walking around high at the 7-11.

"Did you like Rhode Island?" he asks over a joint one night.

You hum for a second, trying to come up with an acceptable answer. It wasn’t that you hated being in Rhode Island. It was that you hated being away from him.

So instead, you shrug. "It was nice to get away from everything. Providence is still a city, but it isn't as large as all this–”

You trail off, making a vague gesture with your hands. Chaos, Peter presumes.

"Less overwhelming?"

"Sure," you say, nodding. "I missed being home, though."

I missed you.

Peter passes you the joint. His brain feels fuzzy. Warm. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He massages your ankle absentmindedly.

"I get it," he says, breaking the silence.

"You get what?"

"Wanting to leave. I've been thinking about it," Peter shrugs, his eyes squinting in the late afternoon sun. "Sometimes I wish we could pack our bags and go to the countryside. See some cows and shit."

We. We. We.

"There are cows upstate," you snort.

"You know what I mean."

"We can do a road trip."

"You can’t drive."

"I am aware and perfectly fine with being a passenger princess. In fact, I’m looking forward to it," you grin.

He yanks your ankle this time, causing you to slip from where you’re sitting on the pavement. Giggling, you swat away his hands, but he’s too quick, untying your shoelaces as you kick and thrash.

"Honestly, it’s probably better for society if you never get behind the wheel," Peter teases. He dodges you when you try to kick him in the shin.

"Oh, but you can be? You get so distracted so easily! Whenever you’d practice driving, you’d miss so many exits or be too anxious to merge on the highway."

"Okay, well, you’re just a force of distraction," he shrugs, throwing his hands up in defeat. "You have that effect on people."

You look at him quizzically, your eyes narrowing. If there’s anything behind his statement, he doesn’t show it on his face. Peter knows his cheeks are burning, however.

There are more moments like these. Ever since you’d rescued Peter that night, he’s grown accustomed to spending hours of his day idly looking for you, learning your class schedule, and following you home like a pet when it’s time to unwind. He stays for hours like he used to when you were kids, and although he always thinks he’s overstaying his welcome, you don’t seem affected.

You curl into him more these days, like a sunflower stretching toward the morning glow. There are more lingering touches, here and there. You have to remind yourself not to get too comfortable, but God, he makes it so easy.

So the burning question pops out during a marathon of Chainsaw Man.

"Does MJ care that we hang out so much?" you blurt out. He looks at you like you have three heads. Also, his mouth is full.

"Um, webrobrup," he mumbles. He frowns as he looks down. Hot Cheeto fingers.

You mock him, of course.

"English, yeah?"

He chuckles as he finishes scarfing it all down. He shyly licks his fingertips, and you have to stop yourself from staring at the way his fingers enter his mouth. Ugh, gross. This is hardly supposed to be hot.

"We broke up."

You keep a straight face. It’s not like you’re excited or anything. You realize you shouldn’t be surprised because… why else would he be so available to you lately?

"Shit. You really fumbled, then."

"Shut up," he laughs.

"Seriously. Who else is gonna wanna put up with you?" You both know the answer to that.

"It was mutual," he says, shrugging. "I’ve got all my Spider-man shit, she’s getting into a bunch of extracurriculars and even a research internship even though we’re literally first years."

"Classic MJ."

"Yeah."

"We’ll get you back on the market, buddy," you tease, patting his head like a dog. A coy smile lights up your features. It makes something inside him melt.

"I’m not a piece of meat."’

You click your tongue.

"Oh, right, you’re an insect."

"Hey, so are you!"

____

You used to think it was a kind of twin telepathy, the magnetism to Peter that you felt. Bitten by the same spider and entangled in the same web. You realize as you grow older that it’s more than a platonic bond. It feels like wanting to share the same skin.

Or maybe it’s the wine talking.

It’s not your job to keep Peter afloat at the party right now, but both of you remember too well how the last party went. He continually sips water in between gulps of whiskey like a paranoid freak, which you tease him about. Maybe it’s just the darkness of his eyes under this light, but his pupils look wide and dilated.

It’s almost March. You’d both endured a proper New York winter, which usually extends until April if you’re lucky, but global warming has other plans. It's warm enough for you to pair one of your favorite dresses with an oversized Carhartt jacket that used to belong to Peter before the bite bulked him up significantly. You fiddle with the black velvet wrapped around your body as you pretend to listen to banal conversations, leaning your head into Peter’s bicep.

You keep picking at loose threads obsessively. You think about your fingertips and their webs. You think that maybe you should take up crocheting to distract your hands from their restlessness.

Peter grabs your hand away from you, squeezing it slightly, not even looking at you. His flushed palm rests against yours. Gently rubbing your thumb between your finger divots

If you were a cat, Peter would imagine you purring right about now. He wants to take you into his lap, stroke your hair while the alcohol subsides in both of your systems. The thought of you on top of him causes his cock to twitch slightly. His rose-colored cheeks are from the whiskey, he reassures himself. An affirmation. He lets go of your hand.

He knows that this isn't the time or place for such thoughts, so he makes an effort to push the desires down. He knows they'll come up again when the whiskey leaves his veins, but at least he'll be of sober mind.

Christ, he feels like he's at a middle school dance. Especially when you run off with a spring in your step to socialize with some girls you recognize from school. The smell of your hair lingers next to him. It's sweet and slightly floral, a scent that makes him think of when you were kids.

His ears perk up like a dog's when you call his name, reaching out to him so that you can introduce your best friend. He has the right mind to be polite, even funny at times, but he knows he pales in comparison to your current charisma, which contrasts with your usual wallflower nature.

Peter likes watching you talk, and you like that he watches you so intently. When you know he's watching, it's easy to deadpan some drunken jokes and elaborate superfluous tall tales from your high school days. His eyes are bright, and his bottom lip is chewed in between his teeth.

Suddenly, he gets to be alone with you in the kitchen. Your scent permeates the air. He could drown in it.

“Rabbit," you whine petulantly. "Swing me home."

"How drunk are you?" he chuckles with adoration.

"Not very. Just tired, s'all," you respond with a yawn. You scrunch your nose. "Can I sleep at yours?"

Peter looks at you with a soft gaze. "Of course, angel."

Angel. He's never called you that before. You decide that you like the sound of it.

By the time midnight comes around, you're barefoot in his bedroom, black velvet spinning loosely around your figure. In Peter's blurred vision, you look like a friendly apparition, one that particularly favors "Champagne Coast" by Blood Orange.

"Come into my bedroom, come into my bedroom," you quietly sing along as you sway your hips.

"You're already in my room."

Your smile beams at him, huge and illuminating, and impossible to look away from. Peter wishes that he could bottle up this moment to revisit it, or maybe live in it for the rest of his life. The sweetest way to exist.

Your body sinks to his level -- no, collapses -- as you roll over his heavy frame and rest yourself on your back. Your hair fans out like you're underwater. Your lips are red and wine-colored, freshly bitten. When you turn your head toward Peter, his hand plays with the exposed nape of your neck, fingertips grazing the creases of your skin.

"You used to be so gangly, you know," you murmur. Your voice is lower than usual.

"Okay, well, I'm not anymore."

"I could totally still take you in a fight." Still refers to the times when the two of you would attempt something along the lines of combat training, if combat training was just you unleashing your hotheadedness with your mutant powers instead of with your fists. If you weren't so agile, maybe Peter would've had a chance of winning.

"I'd like to see you try, angel."

It's decided -- you are on top of him, knees bent around his waist as you wrestle. The fabric of your dress pools around your waist in a way that feels sacrilegious. Peter has his hand on your thighs, and his touch feels white-hot to both of you, so he closes his eyes, tries to focus on swatting you away like a bat instead. When he opens his eyes, he meets your devilish ones, gleeful that you've managed to pin his arms above his head.

It would take two inches to break this spell of separation. He keeps trying to keep this bubble intact because the last time he tried to pop it, the look on your face made him want to dig a hole and lay in it forever.

Peter feels sorry for many things. He feels sorry for the times he's intruded, when he's made Mr. Stark angry, for the times he couldn't be there for you. He feels sorry that you had to take care of him when he wanted to do that for you.

Right now, however, Peter doesn't feel sorry at all. The slight twitch of your pulse, the way you smell, the curve of your bare shoulders -- it's all too tempting for him to feel sorry for. So he kisses you.

He's surprised when you nearly bite him back. You inhale sharply, pressing your body against him as you let go of his wrists and rest your palms on his jaw instead. Your kiss is fervent, desperate.

His brow cinches in confusion when you pull away.

"Wha--"

"Fuck."

"What is it?" He frowns.

"I owe Ned twenty bucks."

"What?"

"I just remembered. At graduation, he was like, teasing me that we were gonna get together, and we bet on who would make the first move. I was just entertaining him, but you know how that kid gets about twenty dollars."

"So you thought you were going to make the first move, then?”

“I mean, yeah. How was I supposed to know that MJ was going to cuff you before I did?”

“You snooze, you lose, I guess,” he deadpans.

“You don’t even fucking deserve me, you little freak,” you taunt, tickling his exposed midriff.

“God, I know. I’ve known that for a while. Too bad I want you regardless.”

He smiles as he captures your lips again, tasting sweet and smoky at the same time. He coaxes you onto your back and you revel in his body heat and the way his large hands grab the plush of your thighs, pushing and pulling your skin taut. It’s so erotic that it almost feels dirty.

You kiss him back like he’s your last meal while you roam your hands under his shirt, then to his protruding collarbones, then experimentally, to the tufts of his chestnut hair. You pull a bit too hard due to your eagerness and he lets out a mewl that you never could’ve imagined to come out of him.

“You like that, don’t you?” you taunt darkly. “Is that why you always want me to scratch your head when we watch movies?”

“I don’t care what you do as long as you’re touching me,” he breathes out, like a confession. “Don’t care how you touch me, s’long as it’s you.”

A tepid blush soaks your face. You shut him up with another kiss. He licks at your bottom lip, groaning softly at the feeling of your soft body against his.

“You’re so pretty, Peter,” you whisper.

“You are.”

Before you can react, you hitch a breath in surprise when you find that his hands have fully reached above the hem of your dress and onto the bare skin of your hip, toying with the elastic of your underwear. You part your legs, bending your knees so that you can pull the fabric off.

He sighs as his fingers tease the slot of your cunt, which grows wetter and wetter with every touch. Your sensitivity makes you squirm a little. He can tell so easily that you’re falling apart for him. He loves it.

You nearly whine when he takes away his fingers from you. Instead, he towers over your body, pulling your legs toward him as he pulls up the hem of your velvet dress and cascades kisses on your knees. He slowly works his way up to your thighs, biting gently, then hard. Meanwhile, his hands roam the perimeter of your chest and your ribs, all soft and pliable for him. You’ll be delighted when you wake up to a bruise on your thigh stuck in the shape of Peter Parker’s mouth.

A shiver lacerates your lower body all the way up to your neck – you feel it, viscerally. All from his mouth. He slots his tongue onto the bud of your clit going slowly just to watch you squirm.

“Please,” you beg.

“Please what?” His eyes are as dark as the sky. As dark as your dress.

“Your– your mouth. I need it. Please. More.”

Peter’s grip on your thighs tightens as his face moves closer to your center, licking incessantly as you cry out. You attempt to muffle your sounds with your hand covering your mouth, biting the skin on your palm. Your blood is hot, pumping hard, all the way down to your swollen clit, and he treats you like a man starved.

“Oh my God,” you gasp. “More, please. Pleasepleaseplease.”

He listens to you, forcing his ring and middle finger into your cunt and curling upward. Your legs shake involuntarily when he does this and it takes everything in him to not stop just so he can see the look on your face head-on. You look so beautiful right now.

“Gonna cum, Pete. Fuck.”

He closes his eyes as he savors your sweet taste. He feels it when you cum as if it’s happening in his body, too. A jolt to the sense. A vivacious rumble. Your mouth is slack, jaw falling open with your eyes screwed shut as you finish, and Peter towers over you to watch. He’s never seen you like this. He wants to keep the image of it forever.

You thank him with a messy kiss, not caring about the remnants of your lipstick. Your hands attack him, teeth nipping at his earlobe as you help him undress. Soon enough, the two of you are naked together, limbs entangled and kissing without paying any mind to oxygen.

You take his jaw in your hand as if he’s a delicate thing. Easy to break. It’s your turn to tease, now.

“What do you wanna do?”

“You’re such a little shit,” he mumbles, but he can’t help but grin.

“Tell me about it, Spidey.”

“Want you, Rabbit, want to make you feel good.”

“And how exactly will you do that?”

“Gonna fuck you. I’ll make you cry if you keep being a little shit like this, too.”

There’s no time for a reaction. He’s on top of you, pinning you down, and he licks your collarbone up to your jaw as you whine like a newborn kitten. He spanks your ass and you have to your bottom lip to keep from being too loud.

“You want it that bad, huh?”

“Yeah,” you respond breathlessly. He melts at the sound of your voice, cooing softly as he playfully bites the skin of your cheek.

You love him like this, a burst of passionate energy focused on you and you only. His little angel. You remember your rabbit heart caged in your sternum fragile and thumping like an earthquake for him.

He pauses to give you another kiss, this time sweet as he licks up the bottom of your lip. You can feel him at the crux of your legs and you can feel the want pumping in your veins. Patience. Patience. Patience.

“You want me to go slow?”

“Of course not.”

You’re so relaxed in his grasp. Gooey with your desire that it might disgust you if you weren’t so enamored. You keep your eyes on him when he enters you – you want to see the look in his eyes.

Peter feels selfish wanting to tease you like this. He’s slow when he enters you, listening to your sweet exhales.

“Easy,” he warns. “‘m gonna take care of you, don’t worry."

Please floods your entire body like a heat stroke. You bend your knees upward and rake the smooth terrain of his back, lifting your hips up at the same time. He thrusts once, then twice, and already, he feels like he’s ready to unfurl completely.

“Fuck,” he groans. You’re so goddamn wet. Soft. Velvety.

“Don’t be shy, Peter,” you murmur. “C’mere.”

You keen into the way he buries his nose into your shoulder, shallow breaths uneven and erratic as he continues, losing control bit by bit as he goes on. His pleasure is the knife you twist inside yourself.

You gasp at the way he can carve you out, the way he knows exactly where to put his hands as he grasps for your body, like he’d molding you from clay. He drinks down your moans with his mouth, eyes fluttering at the impact of your cunt clenching him.

Peter props himself up now, moving his body backward so he’s perpendicular to your core. He holds you by your hips a little too hard, but you’d always liked it rough. You liked it when he would cuddle you or play with you or put his entire body weight on you. To smother was to be encased in something akin to love.

“Fuck,” he hisses, getting the hang of a constant rhythm. His hips slot with yours as his cock thrusts deeper into you, until he can feel the slight tremble of your thighs.

“You okay?” he asks, chest heaving.

“Yes, keep going. Keep going.”

You underestimate how fragile you are. A rough thrust almost has you there, until he pulls out of you like a stolen breath, and it leaves you whining.

“Pete.”

“Shh, I’m just trying to pace myself,” he breathes, jaw slack and glistening with sweat. “You feel too fucking good.”

“Come back or I’ll break your wrists.”

He chuckles, but you’re dead serious. You lift your body to him so you can pull his down, kissing him with a ragged hunger that’s all teeth and lust. He’s quick to match your vigor but with more tenderness than desperation. It makes you melt, how natural it is, how this is how it might’ve felt in a past life. Your bodies entwined in a way that’s proverbial.

He listens to you. Fucks you much rougher than before, giving in to what he wants, because he’s not sorry about how much he wants you. Your broken moans curl out of your throat and into his mouth and the feeling of him deep in you makes you feel like a balloon ready to burst from the pressure.

It’s like Peter reads your mind, because suddenly, his hand is around your throat. You’ve never looked more angelic to him than you do now, eyes half-lidded and your reddish mouth all lax.

“So fucking beautiful, I love you,” he mumbles against his mouth.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

All of Peter’s muscles are tense from holding back. Fuck, he doesn’t want to cum until you do.

Luckily, the way his cock stretches you out has you nearly drooling underneath him. He touches the deepest parts of your insides like he belongs there, like he was meant to be there, as if the way he turns his hips toward you is a vow in itself. You whimper at the feeling of it all and he nearly loses it.

“I’m so close,” you pants. Thank fucking God.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Cum for me,” he coos. “You’re doing so good. Fuck.”

Your gaze lingers on the shape of his mouth. You think about how his voice sounds when he calls you angel.

Your orgasm comes like a flower blooming, like a beam of light in the darkness. He feels it, too, so vividly like he shares your body. It feels strange how much he feels that he hasn’t felt before, and it makes him come undone right after you.

He pulls out of you and spills onto your stomach unceremoniously with something in between a grunt and a whimper. He’s all over you. You want to bury your body into his.

“Peter,” you whisper, your gaze languishing.

“Yes, angel?”

“I think I owe Ned fifty bucks now.”

He looks at you incredulously but you can’t keep the facade, bursting into laughter as he groans in annoyance and flops his body on top of yours.

“Ew, clean me up, at least,” you complain.

“Right,” he says, nodding. And he does, with a spare t-shirt from his floor absentmindedly while he shares a grin with you. “You serious, though?”

“Of course not,” you scoff. “Ned Leeds will never get anything over twenty bucks from me.”

He laughs and it sounds like heaven.

“You said you loved me,” you tell him.

“I do love you. I’ve always loved you.”

You could cry right now. Surely the influx of endorphins in your body is breaking the rest of your brain.

“I love you, too.”

You kiss him again, open-mouthed, teeth sucking slightly as his lips. He takes a fistful of your hair while his other hand caresses your jaw. It excites you when he breaks the kiss by pulling your hair. His cheeks dimple the slightest bit when he smiles at you.

“Don’t do that, you’re gonna get me hard again.”

“You have the stamina,” you shrug, hugging one of his oversized pillows to your chest.

“You’re cute.”

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“How come you call me angel now?”

Peter shrugs. He rubs his hands on your calves.

“You’re my guardian angel. Always have been. And you’re not allowed to complain about it being corny because it’s true.”

Peter is shy all of sudden as if he hadn’t just fucked you. His brown hair is tousled to bedhead perfection, messy and slightly frizzy, and the warmth of his skin radiates from the way his whole body seems to blush in front of you.

“I have a proposition.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Come on!” You nudge him, kicking him with your feet. You get off of his bed to rummage through his dresser drawers for an oversized t-shirt, just dodging his attempts to grab you by the waist.

“Okay. What is it?”

“We should use our webs next time.”

He blinks, smirking, indulging you for a second.

“Deal.”

tagging mutuals: @meliapis @cutetomholland @userholland @sparklingsin @tomdutch @userholland @vendettaparker @selfcarecap @simplykenni @uhlxis @cordiformity @sapphicsoie @seolaseoul @honeyspidey @logangarfield @justapurrcat @arachine @cocoamoonmalfoy @ohcaptains @aniqua

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker angst #spiderman x reader #mcu!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x you #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #peter parker x you

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shellshocklove · 4 months

Text

❀ 2023 fic recs

hi friends <3 like last year i wanted to make a list of some of my favorite fics i’ve read that was posted throughout 2023. please read the warnings on the fics before reading, and minors do not interact with smut!

* = smut

❀ peter parker

burnt face and second base by @waitimcomingtoo (one shot)

pairing: peter parker x reader summary: peter can’t seem to stop accidentally hurting his crush.

blurb by @hollandsangel (blurb)

pairing: peter parker x reader summary: “oh please, who’s gonna stop us?”, “the police.”

*angel unaware by @silkscream (one shot)

pairing: peter parker x silk!reader summary: you’ve known peter since you were fifteen, shortly after you were both bitten by the same spider. it was too obvious that you’d end up loving him. as you drift apart during your first year of college, you’re not sure how much longer you can keep dancing in circles with him.

*blurb by @/silkscream (blurb)

pairing: peter parker x female!reader summary: reader fucks peter in his suit, the other suit.

*delay by @sparklingsin (blurb)

pairing: peter parker x gn!reader summary: you stop peter from going on patrol.

blurb by @t-lostinworlds (blurb)

pairing: peter parker x avenger!female!reader summary: "this movie is really scary, but you're into it so i'm trying not to cover my face the whole time, but-what is that?" and "i mean… i-i'm cool with sharing the bed if you are."

i spy, no spy by @/t-lostinworlds (one shot)

pairing: peter parker x avenger/secret agent!female!reader summary: You’re a trained spy, Peter was not. But you two ended up on a mission together where he was needed to be less of the chatty superhero in red & blue tights and more of a debonair undercover agent in a suit & tie. It shouldn’t be too difficult, right? No mask, no web shooters. Just you and him pretending to be fiancés, hiding and making out in a closet to avoid getting caught—simple. Unless he included his overgrowing feelings for you, of course.

a strange(er's) comfort by @/t-lostinworlds (one shot)

pairing: peter parker x female!reader summary: peter found a strange comfort in the graveyard, no less. but hearing about your day-to-day had been the highlight of his. and when one night led to the both you showing vulnerability, suddenly, peter didn’t feel so alone anymore. maybe a stranger’s comfort wasn’t so bad.

*in lust we trust by @scorpiomother (one shot)

pairing: mcu!peter parker x silk!female!reader summary: they don’t know one thing about each other, but they do know that they want each other. bad. little do they know, they are at the mercy of an influx of hormones caused by a radioactive spider.

*blurb by @webslingingslasher (blurb)

pairing: peter parker x female!reader summary: you get a bad calf cramp midway through sex.

break my heart by @hollandweather (blurb)

pairing: frat!peter parker x female!reader summary: peter wants to spend time with you.

your kiss, my cheek by @/hollandweather (one shot)

pairing: frat!peter parker x female!reader summary: better late than never? bullshit. frat!peter realises he loves you a little too late.

you're always gonna be mine by @darling-im-wonderstruck (blurb)

pairing: peter parker x female!reader summary: late nights with peter never failed to put your heart at ease at the end of each long day. all your worries and doubts seem to disappear in his presence, including your fears about first loves (and first heartbreaks).

subway by @tnmdfhgkg (blurb)

pairing: peter parker x female!reader summary: you met a cute boy on the train.

blurb by @/luveline (blurb)

pairing: peter parker x reader summary: peter catch you wearing spider-man merch.

blurb by @parkerpeter24 (blurb)

pairing: peter parker x female!reader summary: peter's hand gets stuck to your shirt.

❀ joel miller

*soft!dom joel miller by @joelscruff (series)

pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: a collection of important moments between you and joel miller, your grumpy new patrol partner in jackson, wyoming.

*feelings on fire by @/joelscruff (series, ongoing)

pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: you're back from college for the summer, staying with your devout catholic parents in your childhood home while they order you around and try to keep authority over you. as an act of rebellion you ask your new neighbor mr. miller to teach you how to play guitar, but it turns out there's a lot more he wants to teach you.

*boyfriend's!dad!joel miller by @/joelscruff (series)

pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: moments between you and your boyfriend's father, joel miller, who you have a secret relationship with.

*to freeze or to thaw & *a kindness you can't afford by @/joelscruff (two part one shot)

pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: joel stole you away to be his special girl.

*truth or dare by @/joelscruff (one shot)

pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: a harmless game of truth or dare ends with you tied up in a certain mysterious neighbor's garage.

*this one thing you did by @/joelscruff (one shot)

pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: dancing with a stranger at your favorite club leads to something filthy.

*mad love by @swiftispunk (drabble)

pairing: joel miller x afab!fem!reader summary: reader gets turned on after joel goes feral on some guy who tried to touch her.

*holding back by @/swiftispunk (drabble)

pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: smut from joel's pov.

*your summer dream by @/swiftispunk (series, ongoing)

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader summary: fresh on the heels of the worst breakup of your life, you find an unexpected kindred spirit in joel miller, who's agreed to tag along for seven days to a tropical resort with you and your parents.

*good to me by @/swiftispunk (three part series)

pairing: gynecologist!joel miller x female!reader summary: with your usual doctor out, you're stuck having to get your routine pap smear done by the gorgeous dr. miller.

*say it with your hands & *put your lips close to mine by @/swiftispunk (one shots)

pairing: joel miller x afab!fem!masseuse!reader summary: ellie convinces joel to see the town masseuse. it goes mostly okay.

*creep it real by @/swiftispunk (one shot)

pairing: dbf!joel miller x female!reader summary: a masked angel. a rugged cowboy. you're the answer to joel's prayers...until he realizes who you are.

*stay here, honey by @/swiftispunk (one shot)

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader summary: you sit on dbf!joel's lap at a party, it's a whole thing.

no strings attached by @dustydaddyyy (one shot)

pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: you can’t deny there’s always been something between you and joel miller. The question is, is either of you going to do something about it?

*sweetheart by @/dustydaddyyy (one shot)

pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: you're home from college for summer '99 to visit your parents, when your eye wanders upon their next-door neighbor, joel miller.

*flash point by @/dustydaddyyy (series, ongoing)

pairing: pre-TLOU! joel miller x female!reader summary: 18 years after the world ended, and you never thought you'd find yourself stranded and alone in the Boston QZ. you've got one friend, a tendency for violence and sticky fingers, so what happens when you run across two notoriously ruthless smugglers one night and they chose to save your life?

*look at me, *give me some & *can't help it aka tinder!joel miller by @pascalisbaby (mini series)

pairing: DILF!joel miller x female!reader summary: ellie and sarah set joel up on a tinder date.

*say yes to heaven & *no angel by @/pascalisbaby (one shots)

pairing: chiro!joel miller x female!patient!reader summary: dr. joel miller gives you a little more than an adjustment.

*saved too many times by @/pascalisbaby (one shot)

pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: joel doesn’t mind punishing you, so long as he gets to watch you cry.

*signs i don't read by @/pascalisbaby (one shot)

pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: joel likes things done his way, especially when he’s fucking you.

*rock me to sleep by @randofantfic

pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: joel makes love to you in a rocking chair.

*dbf!joel miller by @notjustjavierpena (series)

pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: joel, your dad’s best friend, finds you in your room crying and wants to comfort you.

*grab the bull by the horns by @proxima-writes (one shot)

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader summary: joel agrees to go out to tommy’s favorite bar, where he watches you ride a mechanical bull and wishes you would ride him.

*joel is such a sap after sex by @inklore (drabble)

pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: joel is a sap after sex.

*kinktober – body worship by @palioom (blurb)

pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: you worship joel's body.

*only need ten by @pascalpvnk (blurb)

pairing: jackson era!joel miller x afab!reader summary: morning sex with joel.

*sweetened breath and tongue so mean by @moonlight-prose (one shot)

pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: joel couldn’t fathom what you saw in him. a man bloodied with the ravages of life. he’d taken life, killed to survive, and there were times he even fucking enjoyed it. but you were soft. you were the good that remained. the light he shouldn’t be allowed to tarnish.

unlikely friends by @sweetercalypso (one shot)

pairing: joel miller x reader summary: joel and your cat have never gotten along, but maybe they’re more alike than they realize.

*need that charles dickens by @janaispunk (one shot)

pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: “what do you say, have i been a good elf for santa?”, “am i santa in that scenario?”, “sure,” you grin mischievously, “if you come down my chimney.”

*in the next room by @atticrissfinch (one shot)

pairing: neighbor’s fuckbuddy!joel miller x female!reader summary: when the peace and quiet of your apartment is disturbed by the noisy escapades of the couple in the neighboring unit, you find yourself entranced by the mystery man on the other side of the wall. and when you stumble upon him on a dating app…well, it might just be fate.

*between blurred lines by @livingemkayde (one shot)

pairing: best friend's dad!/dad's best friend!joel miller x female!reader summary: joel miller has always been...there. never different, always sporting a brooding scowl etched into his handsome face. he's your best friend sarah miller's dad, arguably worse, your dad's long time buddy. things are never different. not until this summer. not until now.

*for you, i would by @javiscigarette (one shot)

pairing: joel miller x female!reader summary: Joel catches you doing something you definitely shouldn't be doing and teaches you you lesson.

*tricks of the trade by @mypoisonedvine (one shot)

pairing: dark-ish!joel miller x female!reader summary: when you don't have enough rations to get your fix, you have to find something else to trade.

❀ javier peña

*soaked by @/joelscruff (one shot)

pairing: javi peña x female!reader summary: it’s hard being an intern for a man who won’t even look at you, but maybe there’s something else to it that you don’t see.

*(re)union with elvis by @tieronecrush (one shot)

pairing: javi peña x female!reader summary: reader and javi haven't seen each other since after graduation, until one night they bump into each other in las vegas, while both are there for their friends’ birthday parties. the next morning they wake up in the same bed, hangover and married.

*late night text by @undercoverpena (series)

pairing: javi peña x female!reader summary: it’s the year 2000. javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop’s ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. the only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

*keep me in your glow by @/atticrissfinch (one shot)

pairing: javi peña x female!reader summary: on a sleepy saturday morning, javi has one small request.

❀ jack daniels

*cupcake by @ezrasbirdie (one shot)

pairing: car salesman!jack daniels x female!reader summary: jack daniels, lead used car salesman at his dealership, has a crush on you, the pretty receptionist. it's too bad he can't get out of his own way. luckily for him, you have patience and a soft spot for shy cowboys.

❀ ezra (prospect)

*darkness by @/ezrasbirdie (one shot)

pairing: ezra x female!reader summary: ezra likes to watch you sleep.

❀ dieter bravo

*bouquet, *bloom & *blossom by @/mypoisonedvine (mini series)

pairing: dieter bravo x camgirl!reader summary: being quarantined in his hotel room has dieter getting a little stir crazy, and when the drugs run out, he has to find a new vice. that's how he found you.

❀ eddie munson

blurb by @luveline (blurb)

pairing: eddie munson x shy!female!reader summary: reader is into the same music as eddie & has a similar aesthetic but not the confidence that is associated with it. eddie takes the initiative to interact with her because she’s nervous too do so?

was that so hard? by @/luveline (one shot)

pairing: eddie munson x shy!female!reader summary: your best friend eddie tries to explain what a hickey feels like and finds he doesn't have the words. he could show you, though, if you want?

if it barks by @/luveline (series, ongoing)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x rockstar!female!reader summary: you don’t mean to make an enemy of eddie munson — he’s handsome and talented, but he’s the biggest jerk you’ve ever met. eddie thinks you’re infuriatingly pretty, emphasis on the infuriating.

*smut by @/luveline (blurb)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x afab!reader summary: rockstar eddie and his gf get a little rough before/after a show.

a quest for bed by @/luveline (one shot)

pairing: eddie munson x female!reader summary: eddie fights to get his usually shy and moderately intoxicated girlfriend to bed when you insist on clinging to him at every turn.

too much by @/luveline (one shot)

pairing: eddie munson x female!reader summary: you get upset when eddie's friends think you're clingy. he sets you straight with some unbridled affection.

our ghost by @/luveline (one shot)

pairing: eddie munson x female!reader summary: best friends since middle school, you tell eddie everything, which is why he's so surprised to find out you've been keeping a secret —you’re hearing a voice whenever you're home alone. he’s always had a thing for the fantastical but he can't believe in ghosts, and the longer you insist on it, the more worried he becomes. this would be bad enough if eddie didn’t have a secret too, and it threatens to change everything between you.

blurb by @/luveline (blurb)

pairing: eddie munson x shy!female!reader summary: eddie insists on taking care of you when you get overwhelmed in the middle of a concert.

one shot by @/luveline (one shot)

pairing: eddie munson x female!reader summary: eddie is a hockey player.

is it cool if i hold your hand? by @/luveline (one shot)

pairing: eddie munson x shy!female!reader summary: eddie asks you out on your very first date, indulging you in huge philly cheesesteaks, a vanilla milkshake (with two straws), a largely neglected bucket of popcorn, and a sugary first kiss.

a thread of time by @/luveline (one shot)

pairing: soulmate au, eddie munson x female!reader summary: eddie wakes up with a red string tied from his finger to yours, no idea where he got it, and no idea how to tell you that you're caught on the end of it.

❀ hobie brown

can i kiss you? by @spiderg0th (blurb)

pairing: hobie brown x spider person!reader summary: you visit his world for the first time.

❀ tom holland

*girls talk boys by @luciwritesstuff (series, ongoing)

pairing: actor!tom holland x female!reader summary: coming home for the holidays only to find your old, formerly pain-in-your-ass neighbour got. . . hot?

all the time in the world by @/luciwritesstuff (one shot)

pairing: tom holland x female!reader summary: tom thinks you're pregnant.

the end by @lauras-collection (one shot)

pairing: tom holland x reader summary: this is not how you thought your evening would end.

*little birdie by @youandtom2 (one shot, part. 2)

pairing: rich!dom!tom holland x inexperienced!rich!female!reader summary: you always thought you hated tom more. but after a wild night that has now led into a confusing situationship you start to question who you should be hating more: your nightmare brother andy, or his best friend tom?

*hunting ground by @/youandtom2 (one shot)

pairing: dom!tom holland x sub!bratty!reader summary: how else would you get adventure back into your life than to visit a speakeasy that’s definitly not a kinky-cult-sex-club?

❀ harry styles

*soft by @moonchildstyles (one shot)

pairing: harry styles x female!reader summary: harry is y/n’s best friend, so she thought she knew everything about him. but, it looks like they both had some secrets: harry thought about her a lot more than she realized and y/n has really soft hands.

feathery by @/moonchildstyles (one shot)

pairing: harry styles x cupid!female!reader summary: y/n is a cupid and harry might be her soulmate. if that’s even possible anyway.

*élan by @/moonchildstyles (series)

pairing: bodyguard!harry styles x rich socialite!female!reader summary: harry is a bodyguard by trade and y/n would do anything just to be left alone.

for more fic recs check out my #read tag <3

#peter parker x reader #joel miller x reader #javi pena x reader #javi peña x reader #jack daniels x reader #ezra x reaader #dieter bravo x reader #eddie munson x reader #hobie brown x reader #tom holland x reader #harry styles x reader #pedro pascal #tom holland #joseph quinn

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kidney9-9 · 1 year

Text

Dirty Talk - Peter Parker

Anonymous asked: Peter parker smut were he learns how to talk dirty?

hi anon! thanks for sending this in, hope you enjoy it. please read the warnings!

Peter Parker x Reader [Smut] Warnings: smut, semi public, dirty talking, very small mention of hair pulling, unprotected sex/no use of condoms, nervous/timid Peter, no aftercare mentioned Word Count: 1.5k

It was his idea that led to you two out on a balcony, naked and cold, during a party. The party was something to celebrate one of the latest missions that the Avengers succeeded in, and Peter had been horny the entire night after seeing you in a dress covered in smooth golden silk. It was incredibly beautiful, and you looked like the definition of beauty itself to Peter.

When he finally got to dance with you, he whispered, "Join me outside for a moment." And now you two are here.

Peter pushed you up against the wall, shivering slightly as the wind hit his back. You were nervous and cold as well, but the look in Peter's eyes was amazing. You've only really seen him like this when he really needed something, and lust now bit down on both of you.

"No one's going to see us. Everyone is busy inside, and there's no one on this side of the building that'll be able to see us from outside." He explained, lips traveling against your ear and then down to your neck.

But before you two could continue, Peter whispered to you, "What do you want?" And instantly you knew what to say. It was the perfect moment, and you knew if you asked him now, he would definitely want to try it. You two never really got to talk dirty to each other because sex was something usually more loving and calmer, compared to rough and dirty - something that Peter was willing to do now.

"Please, talk dirty to me." You mumbled back, and Peter somewhat froze, having no clue how to talk dirty. He watched some videos before about it - knowing it would come up in conversation sooner or later, but still he really was confused.

"Babe..." He trailed off, hesitating to tell you that he wouldn't be able to do that tonight. "I can't. I don't know how to." He whispered, finishing his sentence.

Your eyes widened slightly for a moment, looking into his eyes, wondering if he was joking. But he wasn't, you saw it. It didn't stop you though, as you wanted to continue with him no matter what right now.

Your legs pulled him in closer, and your hand tugged some of his hair. "Do you feel what I'm doing to you?" You asked him softly, your breathing increasing as you tried to control yourself from continuing.

"Yeah, I do." He whispered back, slightly confused, but wanting more. He kissed over one of the bruises you covered up for tonight, and you flinched slightly, a surprised gasp coming out from your mouth.

Your body now was flush against his, naked as ever. "Then tell me exactly what you want to do back to me. Tell me how I'm making you feel." You tried to explain, but it was a little difficult to explain. Peter understood you though, his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he tried to think about how to tell you.

"I want to kiss you until you're breathless... I want to see you feel good. I can make you feel good?" It almost came out as a question, but you smiled, trying to encourage him.

"Good!" You spoke up, now bringing his head back up to yours. You kissed him hard, and he kissed you back instantly. One of his hands slipped behind your head and protected your head from hitting the wall.

He quickly glanced to the window, making sure no one was around. They were all still on the dance floor, and everyone seemed to be drunk or entertained. He quickly went back to paying attention to you.

"Okay, um, I want to hear you say my name when I make you cum." He spoke again, a dark blush covering his face as he explained. You felt a surge of proudness come up, happy that he was trying.

"How are you going to make me cum, babe?" Your question only led him to nodding, and kissing you again. He was nervous to continue, feeling like he might mess up, but you didn't say anything about it before.

He pressed into you though, his cock twitching against your pussy slightly, making you moan. "Oh Peter... I need you. How are you going to make me cum? Are you going to make me sit out here all night without you?" Your voice came out again, trying to let Peter continue his expansion into dirty talking. He was doing really good so far! You could tell he was nervous though.

"You're doing so amazing babe." You whispered up to his ear, and he sighed out, feeling slightly relieved.

"I'm, uh I'm going to fuck you." He tried to say, but it stumbled out. He cursed slightly in his head for messing up, but you kissed his jaw, letting him try again.

"I'm going to fuck you until you're crying out loud for more. Even after you cum, you're going to want more of me." He tried again, now sounding more confident. You grinned against his cheek, now lifting your hips up, grinding against his.

"Then fuck me. What are you waiting for?" Your voice came out with some giggles, and Peter groaned, shaking his head slightly.

"Is it okay if I do?" He asked in a timid voice, but you instantly nodded back to him, letting him know it was okay.

"Yeah, of course. I want to feel your cock in me." You responded and his eyebrows jumped up in surprise at the need in your tone that he could hear.

Instead of replying, he pushed his cock up into you slowly, pausing as he groaned out your name in a slight cry. This was so much better than trying to talk dirty.

"Just like that, Peter, give me more, please, I need more! Tell me what you want me to do, what you're going to do to me, please!" You moaned, eyes fluttering as he pressed his cock all the way into you slowly.

As he settled in, his eyes landed on yours and he felt a rush of confidence fly into his brain as he started to spew some dirty talk.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard. You love it, don't you? You're such a good slut, huh? My little good slut." He stuttered at the end, feeling wrong for calling you such a thing but you clenched around him tightly at that - making him wonder if you liked the degradation. It was something he's heard a lot in the stuff he's watched.

"Do you like being called that? Slut?" He asked timidly this time as he pulled out of you before thrusting up again, going in and out at a set pace.

"Yes, baby, I'm your good slut, I'm yours. Only your little good slut." You encouraged him, whimpering as his dick hit you just at the right angle, he grinned and started to fuck you harder.

"Are you going to cum, slut? Huh, wanna come on this dick? Whose pussy does this belong to? Only me. You're mine, only mine. And I'm yours too." He rambled, a bit of it feeling like gibberish was coming out of his mouth but he knew it was all some dirty talk that he hoped you'd enjoy.

It seemed like you did because you moaned and kissed his lips again, with more passion. It was an open wet kiss that had Peter sinking into you deeper and faster.

“I’m going to cum, sir. Can I cum please?” You asked, whimpering, and crying against his mouth. You two didn’t care how loud you were being because of how intense it was. Peter really forgot that you were both at an event with the rest of the avengers.

“Yes, be good and cum for me, only me.” He voiced out just as soon as you started to cum hard. Your orgasm was loud, and had you panting against him, weakly holding his hair in your hands. He followed soon after, but he pulled out, coming on the side of the balcony that you two were on, still hidden from view.

His cum came out in ropes and ropes, spurting onto the floor.

“That was so hot, Peter!” You spoke up a minute later, after calming down from your orgasm. He nodded weakly back to you with a dopey smile on his face.

“I think I like dirty talk now.” He laughed and you smiled at him, silently thanking him for giving it a try. He pulled you into a hug once you two were sorted out and dressed again.

“Shall we?” You asked – pointing to the door. He gave you a grin as he pulled you back into the room.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker smut #thank you for reading!

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holylulusworld · 1 year

Text

Truth or dare

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x Wife!Reader

Side pairings: Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark x Pepper Potts

Characters: Sam Wilson, Sarah Wilson, Clint Barton, Peter Parker

Warnings: angst, Steve being an asshole, mentions of arranged marriage, strong female leads, crack, redemption

A/N: I wrote a hopeful ending. Not a fluffy one.

“Steve, why don’t you wear the blue suit? You know the one I bought some weeks ago. It’ll match the dress I’m going to wear tonight,” you look your husband up and down, smirking as he looks stunning in the suit he chose to wear.

“We won’t match,” Steve is grumpy tonight. He’s usually gentler and softer around you. “No ladies tonight. This meeting is about business and forming an even stronger bond. Things you don’t know shit about.”

“But-“ you frown deeply. “Pepper said she’ll be there. Natasha and Sarah will come. Darcy will bring her better half too.”

He sighs so deeply you fear he’ll stop breathing. “Fine. It’s a meeting for wives,” he waves you off with one flick of his wrists.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Steve?” you are confused as hell. “The ring on my finger means I’m your wife. I think I didn't get the memo we got divorced.”

“Our marriage was an arrangement to help your father out,” he bites back. His tone is filled with venom, and you flinch when he steps toward you. “Do you know why I agreed on this marriage?”

“My father was in trouble and had the money to get him out of said trouble. You wanted me in return,” you meekly reply. It’s the first time you don’t feel comfortable around your husband.

“No. I wanted to stop looking for someone I can fuck. I married you to have a warm place to put my dick. So, you can stop trying so hard to be a good wife. You are all I want. A warm body for me to use.”

You visibly flinch at the blow he just threw at you. That hurt. His words cut so deep you are not sure your heart is still beating.

Arranged or not. Your marriage was special to you. You cherished the bond you believed you have with your husband. Now he claims to not even love you.

It takes you a moment to push the tears away and keep the sob down your throat. You clear your throat and put on your best-faked smile.

“Well, then I can stop trying, Steven,” your voice is even, but inside you are dying. “You should’ve told me so much sooner. I wasted so much time on this marriage. What a shame.”

Steve watches you straighten the dress you are wearing. A dream of blue and silk. His favorite color.

You sigh deeply as you look down at your body. “This dress was fucking expensive, and I can’t return it. Maybe I can sell it on eBay or shit,” you shrug. “Some other women will kill for a second-hand designer dress like this.”

He swallows thickly as you kick off your heels and make your way toward the bathroom. “Have fun with your friends and allies. I hope Pepper is not too disappointed I’m not going to be around. We had plans. You know.”

You enter the bathroom and silently close the door. As you sink to the ground and cradle your face in the palms of your hands, Steve leaves the room.

He slams the door shut, and curses.

“How could I be so wrong? He only ever wanted to use me…”

“Hey, where’s your lovely wife?” Sam cocks his head to search the room for you. “Steve? Where is Y/N?”

“At home, where she can’t disturb business. She knows her place now,” your husband bites back. He scrunches up his nose and shrugs as Pepper and the other women gasp audibly.

“Punk don’t tell me that you took Rumlow’s comment to heart,” Bucky sizes his friend up. He frowns as Steve tells his best friend what happened tonight. “He said that you got soft to fuck with you. He was all over Y/N that night. She turned him down, you idiot!”

“Steve, no!” Sam runs one hand down his face, groaning loudly. “You got us in big trouble! My sister will murder you and me…maybe even all of us!”

Sam points at Sarah who already makes her way toward the other women in the room. Pepper’s head snaps toward Tony, and Natasha, well she opens her clutch to get a knife out.

“Oh-fuck! I won’t ever get laid ever again. Natasha will castrate all of us and make it look like an accident if she gets to know what you did,” Bucky almost whines when his wife and partner in crime stalks toward him.

Tony panics as his wife gets the gun she hides in her clutch out. “We are fucked guys,” he hiccups. “It seems like someone messed with Y/N!”

“It was him!” all men point at Steve. They take a step back and pray their wives won’t punish them for the shit Steve pulled. “We didn’t know.”

Clint starts sweating, he swallows audibly as his wife is ready to rip him a new one. “I swear, we didn’t have anything to do with this. Rumlow said that Steve got weaker and softer. He blamed Y/N for it.”

“Brock Rumlow is not one of us,” Natasha snaps at Clint. “What he says or does is of no interest to us. But—” she points her knife at Steve, “this bastard dared to hurt Y/N. So…we will hurt him.”

“Agreed,” Pepper smirks darkly. “Ladies…get him…”

“Do you remember when you married Y/N?” Natasha circles Steve like a lion waiting to pounce on their prey. “Didn’t she look beautiful in her wedding gown? All for you, you moron.”

“Yeah,” he splutters. “You have to understand, a man my stand can’t let a woman rule his life. I need to make sure no one damages my reputation. If not, people will think I'm easy prey. Just like my family and friends.”

“You’re not an easy target because your friends protect you,” Pepper snaps at Steve. “Because all of us are a family we protect each other. We welcomed Y/N into this family, and you hurt our sister.”

“Damn right,” Sarah slaps the back of Sam’s head. “Don’t you have anything to say to your friend, Sammy?”

“Steve…uh…maybe you should go home and fix things with Y/N?” Sam offers. “I bet she’s crying her eyes out right now.”

Tony rolls his eyes and groans loudly. “You’re not helpful at all, Wilson.”

“You may think you and your allies rule this world,” Natasha clicks her tongue. “You are dead wrong.” She sneers as Bucky, Steve, and Tony glare at her.

“We, the women behind all of you make sure no war breaks out. Do you know how often an afternoon tea with one of our enemies’ wives saved your ungrateful asses?”

Natasha slaps the back of Bucky’s head. “Because in the end, you are all just angry children trying to get a new toy. Rumlow’s fiancé will set him straight too. We called her, his mother, and every female family member we could reach.”

“Oh-uh…he’s fucked too,” Bucky chuckles. “At least he will go down with all of us.”

I’m going to experience a dry spell,” Tony sighs deeply. “Again…Thanks, Rogers. Thank you so very much for fucking with your wife.”

“You!” Sarah points at Steve. “You will go home and apologize to Y/N. If she sheds only one more tear because of you, you’re going to lose more than your reputation.”

“BALLS!” Pepper exclaims. “We will cut them off.”

“Along with your dick,” Natasha grunts. “Now, off and you better make things up to her.”

“Darling?” Steve silently tiptoes inside the mansion. He has a huge bouquet of roses in his arms. “Baby doll? Uh-I’m back home. Doll? Y/N?”

He sighs as you don’t run toward him. Usually, you would drop everything and run into his arms to pepper kisses all over his face. Or drop to your knees to get your hands on his dick. Depends on your mood.

“Sir, Mr. Rogers,” Peter, the youngest member of Steve’s organization stutters. “Mrs. Rogers retreated to one of the guest rooms.”

“What?”

“She said that you could have the bedroom and that you can visit her when you feel the need…” Peter’s face turns crimson as he must tell his boss about all the things you told him. “Marriage duties…uh…Sir…please don’t make me say it.”

“Fuck’s sake, Rumlow,” Steve grunts. He pushes the roses into Peter’s hands. “Put them in a vase and bring them to my wife. Tell her to come back to the bedroom.”

“Sir. I think…”

“I don’t pay you to think,” Steve yells now. “She will come back, or I’ll make her come back. It’s up to her.”

“Sir…I think you should…”

“One more word and you can look for a new job.”

Steve storms off. He’s fuming. There he was, believing you lie awake, waiting for him to come home and make things up to you. But no. You moved out of your shared room to be a brat…

“Mrs. Rogers, good morning,” one of the maids' chirps. “Do you want to make breakfast for Mr. Rogers again?” She smiles softly.

In silence, you pass your husband sitting at the kitchen counter without even looking at him.

“No. Someone thinks that I should stop trying to be a good wife. I’ll go for an apple. You can ask Mr. Rogers if he wants breakfast this morning.”

You open the fridge to get a bottle of water. Steve flinches as you slam the door shut. He watches you grab an apple and leave the kitchen before he can even say a single word.

“Sir, do you want breakfast?” the maid meekly asks. She doesn’t know what happened between you and your husband. But she knows it’s better to duck your head and stay out of Steve Rogers’ business.

“No. I’m already fed up,” he grunts and gets up from the stool, knocking it over. “Take the day off. All of you. I need some time with my wife…”

Steve enters the living room, huffing as you pump up the volume. Lily Ellen yells ‘Fuck you’ at him, and he makes a face.

“We need to talk.”

You ignore his presence, even shy away when he sits next to you on the sofa.

“Doll, look at me.”

You don’t look at him. It hurts too damn much to look at the man you believed is an angel when in reality he’s a cruel demon.

“I want to talk to my wife,” he groans as you shut off the TV and get up from the sofa. You don’t speak, or at least look at him.

He’s left behind with fond memories of the last time you watched a movie together. You were seated on his lap and played with his hair.

Steve tried to convince you to watch the movie but you crawled off his lap to open his fly. You got his dick out to play with little Steve while he struggled to focus on the movie.

He closes his eyes, basking in the memory of your pouty lips when you insisted on sucking his dick. Steve gave in. As so often. You only had to bat an eyelash and he caved in.

“Sir, Mr. Rogers," Peter pokes his head inside. He feels his cheeks heat up as Steve cups his crotch. “Do you want me to drive Mrs. Rogers?”

“Drive…what?” Steve realizes what he was doing and drops his hand from his crotch as he stares at Peter. “What are you talking about?”

“She said something about lawyers."

Steve hurriedly steps inside the guest room, watching you undress. “What are you doing? Doll, I tried to talk to you and now you are…”

“What the fuck? Can a woman not change clothes without you creeping on me?” you snap at Steve. “Get out!”

“You love it when I watch you undress.”

“I made you believe I do,” you chuckle darkly. “I’m damn skilled at faking things. Aren't I?" you ask as you glance at Steve. “All these times I pretended you made me cum or turned me on? I should get a fucking Oscar.”

“Doll, don’t go there,” he warns.

“I had to play with my toys before you came home to get wet for you. I never wanted to marry you. And I never had feelings for you.”

Steve knows you are lying. The way you tend to his wounds after a fight, gentle yet determined tells a different story. You always worried about him.

After a particularly hard day, or rather after you tended to a deep gash on his lower back you wouldn’t let him out of sight for a week. You clung to him like you were glued to his hips.

“Why not? All you want from me is a dripping hole, right?” you wrinkle your nose to push the tears away. “I’m nothing to you.”

He steps closer to you and places his hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, I’m sorry for the stupid things I said. You know that I only tried to protect my reputation.”

“I will go on a short vacation with Pepper, Sarah, Darcy, Natasha, and Okoye. If you need to get off in the meantime, use your hand, Steven. I think you’ll remember how to jerk off by the end of my vacation.”

“Vacation…what?”

He gasps when you shove his hand off your shoulder. “If you would excuse me now, I need to pack a few things for my little getaway…”

Steve watches you storm out of the guest room. He huffs and curses his damn pride. If only he didn’t listen to Brock Rumlow.

“I didn’t have sex for three weeks thanks to you, Steve!” Bucky complains loudly. “Natasha and I do it daily. Now. Nothing. Not even a handjob!”

Tony nods in agreement. “Same.”

“Don’t ask me,” Clint grumbles. “I will never see a boob in my life.”

“Our wives are officially on strike,” Tony buries his face in his hands. “Pepper said they won’t do shit for us, or with us if you don’t make things up to Y/N.”

“Do something, punk! I want to have sex in this decade again!” Bucky threatens. “If not, I’ll make your life living hell!”

“How? She refuses to talk to me, Buck! I tried to apologize, and she decided to go on vacation with your wife and the others. I tried,” Steve replies.

“Try harder then, punk.”

Steve gives his friend a stern look before deciding it’s time to get his wife back. He won’t back down now. “I’ll get my girl back. No matter what!”

“Steven Grant Rogers! Why are you here, in my room covered in blood?” you put your hands on your hips as you drink your husband’s appearance in. “Why are you hurt?”

His tie hangs losely around his neck. Someone ripped his shirt open. Steve’s hair is a mess, and his face had to endure a few punches at least.

“I got into a fight with security at the spa,” he huffs. “They are damn tough for security guards at a spa! I told them I want to see my wife.”

“Well, it’s their job to keep creeps out of here,” you sass. “I see now they did a poor job of keeping you out.”

“I’m not some creep, Y/N.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and gives you a puppy dog look. “I came here to apologize again. You know I didn’t mean a thing I said that night.”

“You sure about that? Because it sounded like you are damn serious to me that night,” you quip and turn your back on Steve. “Maybe you should file for divorce. A hooker is cheaper than a wife.”

“I was wrong,” he moves toward you. Steve sighs as you shy away again. “One thing wasn’t a lie.”

You sniff, ready for another blow.

“You are all I need," he says as he wraps his arms around your waistline. “I would’ve helped your father a thousand times to get you, doll. You know that. Deep inside your fractured heart, you know that I love you.”

“I’m not sure about it.”

“How about I reassure you that I love you, Y/N?” he offers. “I’ll take a whole month off and we will fly to Paris just like you always wanted.”

“I’ll consider your suggestion,” you won’t give in so easily. Steve hurt you deeply. Even worse. He made you feel unwanted, unloved, and worthless. “For now, all I can offer is to fix the mess you call your face.”

He grins. “That’s a start…”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #mobster!steve rogers x fem!reader #mobster!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #mafia au

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bitchyycapricorn · 6 months

Note

Peter Parker praising fem reader over every single thing until she snaps n they get down n dirty 😈😋

Peter Parker x Reader + Praise Kink- Dinner Reservations

Kinktober Masterlist

Masterlist

AN: Hey! So sorry this took so long to get out. Fucking love this request and all the other dirty slutty requests I’ve gotten so far! This is not edited, I honestly just wanted to start getting some content pumped out. Hope this met your expectations! I let a good chunk of my impulsive thoughts win ngl. Warnings: SMUT BRO DO NOT FLAG I STG, Praise kink to the MAX, blowjob, doggy style, readers a lil bratty. Peter Parkers sexy and I can’t take Kinktober warnings seriously. It’s kinktober. Don’t flag me otherwise I’ll delete my account and yeet my tablet. <3

Peter hadn’t let up all day- the subtle teasing, touching, and…praising. It seemed like everything you did he managed to find a way to slip in a few small words of praise. Cooking breakfast was followed by a “Looks amazing darling, you did such a good job,” while Peter softly grabbed your hips and pressed a few kisses to your neck. Redoing the living room? Yep, that was followed by a “It looks so good in here, I love the new Halloween decorations. You’re doing so good baby, keep it up.” Peter would praise with a massive smirk.

Your head was spinning now as you got ready for dinner. “Such a pretty girl…” Peter whispers into your neck as he places a few delicate kisses to your skin. It felt like everything came to a halt in that moment, something in you just…snapped. Turning to Peter you thrust yourself towards him, your lips hungrily pressing against his while your hands grip the nice fabric of his suit. Your legs push you forward towards the bed, making Peter stumble backwards as he attempts to follow your movement. “Y/N we have dinner res-“ he begins before you cut him off with a sharp-

“Fuck your dinner reservations Parker.” His legs hit the edge of the bed leaving him no choice but to sit down as you straddle him. Your mouth moves against his while your hands begin to work on shedding his jacket. Peters attempts to pry you off are futile the moment you’re unbuckling his belt. “All day Peter…you’ve been…ugh!” You huff out, now trying to unbutton his shirt.

Another smirk appears on Peters face as he realizes what he’d done. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he teases, allowing his shirt to fall on the floor next to his jacket. “I haven’t done anything wrong.” He insists with fake innocence.

Running your hands down his abs you look into his eyes with a deadly glare. “You’ve been fucking teasing me.” You try and scold.

“Tease? I haven’t done anything of the sort. I’ve just been telling you what a good girl you’ve been today.” His words were low and seductive as he leans forward to press more kisses down your exposed neck. His hands slowly reaching behind you to unzip your short black silk dress. The feeling of his cold hands on your now bare back made your jaw drop and your mind go fuzzy. You couldn’t help but lean towards him, enjoying the way his touch made you feel. “Oh, not so tough now pretty girl” He laughs while his hands snake under your thighs before flipping you over onto your back.

“Peter!” You gasp, coming out of your previous trance. His face was only inches from yours and you could feel him slowly pulling off your dress.

“Yes pretty girl?” He hums, his hands reaching down to unzip his pants. You gulp, realizing that you’re about to get your ass handed to you for making you both miss the dinner reservations Peter’s had for months. Peter stands in front of you, a smirk forming on his lips. “Be a good girl and get on your knees for me.” He says lowly.

You oblige, quickly getting down and kneeling before him. “Such a good girl,” he praises as he strokes your hair. “Now, suck my cock darling.” Your eyes flicker upwards to look at him, before refocusing on his hands as he pulls his dick out for you. You watch as he strokes himself a few time before you take over. Your lips slowly wrap around the head of his cock while your hand grabs his base. Peter gently pushes your head down further, causing you to gag slightly. “Fuck, taking me so well..” he murmurs as you begin to bob your head on his shaft. As you continue to suck him off, you use your other hand to help jerk off what you can’t reach with your mouth. The sight cause Peter to let out a string of moans as he resists the urge to fuck your mouth.

“Mmm, doin so good for me..” Peter continues to praise, you look up ay him again through your lashes, loving the feeling of his cock down your throat. You let out a small moan as you attempt to take him further, spit running down your chin and all over his throbbing cock. “Fuck, you’re going to make me cum already..” He hisses, slowly easing your mouth off him. “Get on the bed, ass up.”

You don’t waste a moment getting on the bed and arching your back, spreading your legs slightly with your ass in the air. Your tits and face pressing into the sheet with your arms near your head. Peter stood near the edge of the bed, slapping your ass gently as he positions himself behind you. “God Y/N, so pretty for me. Being such a good girl tonight.” He moans as he pushes into you. A moan escapes your lips as you grip the bedsheets. Peter began thrusting into you slowly as his hands grip your hips. He lets out a few more moans as he picks up his pace, slamming into you full force. A small cry tumbles from your lips as your body rocks against his, you can’t help but wiggle your hips as he slams into your cunt.

“Look at you, taking my cock so fucking well. Is this what you wanted? Hm?” Peter asks, slowly gathering up your hair in his hands before giving it a tug.

Your head falls back as you let out a small whimper. “I- I” you stutter, barely able to hold a thought with the feeling of his cock being buried so deep in you.

“Be a good girl and answer me.” Peter snaps, tugging at your hair again.

“Yes!” You cry out as his hips snap into yours even harder. The feeling of being stretched out by his cock was becoming overwhelming as your body shook with pleasure. “Peter I’m so close..” you manage out before spiraling into a fit of desperate moans.

Peter let out a long moan, his thrusts only getting more intense as he watches his cock slip in and out of your dripping cunt. “Be a good girl and cum on my cock,” he urges. Another cry escapes your lips as you feel the coil inside you snap, pleasure rushing over your entire body causing your toes to curl. Peter lets out a ragged moan at the feeling of you convulsing around him. “Fuck..so pretty…so good…you’re doin so good…” he moans before releasing deep inside you.

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hailey-murdock · 9 months

Note

soft morning sex with peter b!!!

Need

Paring: Peter B Parker x Fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ mature content mdni

WC: 1.K

A/N: sorry this took me a while, hope you enjoy, not proofread (Reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated)

-Explicit content under the cut-

Many nights Peter would seek comfort and peace. Trying to calm down the thoughts that ran wildly fast in his head. Your body was like a sanctum where he would find that. You let him use your body for what he wanted, he needed you? Then you let yourself be used.

It varied many times, it depended on what caused him to seek refuge inside of you or his head between your legs. Sometimes he just needed your warmth radiating onto his body. The sweet perfume of yours that always managed to ground him.

Peter wasn't a religious man. He didn't seem to care about the worship of a god. That was until he met you, and found the altar (your body) that he desperately wanted to worship, you were a goddess to him.

He pushed you far beyond your limits—physically, sexually, emotionally, and certainly morally…and yet you both kept coming back for more.

Peter had acquired a purely animal longing for something so dark and disgusting that it was like a sexual hunger he couldn't ignore.

Tonight was certainly different after patrol Peter swung to your apartment to sleep with you and enjoy a good night's rest with you. Well actually it was dawn, the sunlight would soon be hitting your soft skin since you loved to have your curtains wide open

You always left the window unlocked for Peter, even though he had already told you many times before that it was unsafe for you to do that.

Peter had even taught you a few moves for self defense, but those classes always ended up with Peter slamming his cock inside of you, filling you up to the brim with his release.

He would teach you a lesson on how to listen to him since it seemed like you couldn't do that. But Peter was extremely tired to do that. He locked the window once he got inside of your apartment.

It was relaxing for him to take off his suit and lay in bed with you. You woke up when in your dream you managed to feel the other side of your bed dip.

"P-Peter"? You say with a sleepy voice and trying to sit up straight to see if it was him.

"Go back to sleep sweetie", Peter pulled the blanket over you again once you settled back in bed and hummed in agreement.

Your back was facing his chest, his arm draped lazily over your waist. To get more comfortable and closer to Peter you pushed your ass back to his crotch.

A soft groan left his lips, Peter hoped you didn't move more but secretly he wanted more. He could smell the smell of sex in your bedroom, obviously stating that you took care of yourself while he was gone. Your wetness dripped down your thighs while you slept.

You were half awake when you heard his groan and it made you want to do it more. Rubbing your ass against his now growing erection made your cunt even more wetter.

"S-sweetheart sto- mhm stop that", Peter only pulled you closer to his body. His hand ran down to your thigh playing with the hem of your silk nightgown.

"What if I don't want to"? Peter could hear the teasing tone in your voice, he wanted to fuck it out of you but his muscles ached after a long night fighting crime. You nodded your head to give him permission to slide his hand closer to where you most wanted it.

He pulls one of your legs on his waist to have better access to your warm cunt. You suck in your bottom lip as you imagine how you and Peter would look in the position you are.

The two of you on your sides, your legs spread wide apart, your right leg on his waist, his muscular arm in your inner thigh. A light sheet of sweat on both bodies, you with no panties, just your nightgown. Your cunt glistens with the bit of light hitting the bedroom.

Peter dragged his fingers to your entrance and it made you shudder. You leaned into his touch seeking for more friction.

"What do you need, baby? Be a good girl and tell me" he wasn't only going to let you have your fun with teasing, karma can be a bitch.

Peter hadn't even pushed in his fingers or done anything and you were already drunk off of him.

"Is my sweet girl already dumb? Can't even say a sentence and I haven't done anything yet. Come on, use your words".

You hummed in agreement to Peter's statement. "N-need you", your back arched which caused your ass to rub once again to his cock.

His eyes rolled back at the beautiful mixture of pain and pleasure. "What exactly do you need, sweetheart"?

"Cock, n-need your cock", your cheeks are a deep shade of red. You couldn't believe you just said that. You've never been so blunt at saying what you wanted.

"God, you sound so sexy, sweet girl". With that Peter shoved down his boxers and pulled over your head your nightgown. His hands run straight to your perked nipples, pinching them to earn a sweet moan from you.

"Peter please", your whines were louder the more Peter took his time with you.

"Shhh, I know, I know what you need, baby. Let me take care of you, yeah"?

Peter how and when to use his words. Boy, he was damn good with that mouth. He tapped your clit with the tip of his cock, spreading your and his arousal for lube even though he knew it wasn't needed.

He penetrated your hole and your tightness made it harder for him to be all the full way through. A gasp was what Peter heard in his ear as you moved your head back to kiss him passionately.

His thrusts were slow, sensual and deep, making your head spin. The kisses are full of love, desire, and kindness. This wasn't sex, no this was love. Peter was making love to you. The eye contact made it powerful.

Hands intertwined, sweat all over your bodies. The soft "I love you" made your heart jump. The orgams screamed your love for one another. Heavy breathing, groans, and moans filled the bedroom.

The afterglow were the moments you both treasured deeply. Your heartbeats calming down, the even breathing and the smiles on your faces were proof that just as much Peter saw you as his sanctum, he was yours as well.

#atsv peter b parker #peter b parker #peter b parker x reader #peter b parker smut #peter b parker fluff

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 1 year

Text

THE TEACHER- J.B BARNES, P.B PARKER

Pairing: Best friend! Bucky x Fem! Reader, Roommate! Peter x Fem Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Request(s): “can you do please write a piece where you reveal to bucky that you never touched yourself because you don’t know how so he shows you and it’s filled with praise and good girl pls?”

“experienced peter parker overhears his best friend/roommate with what sounds like a vibrator. he goes to investigate, and confirms she has a new toy, but doesn’t know how to use it right. he offers her a better one from his own collection to help her out when she asks him to teach her how to use it…”

Warnings: masturbation, vibrator used, fingering, praise kink, pet names, breeding kink, swearing, overstimulation...

You were shy. Bucky knew that, you knew that. It had taken a lot of courage to act on your feelings, pulling out the strength to tell your best friend what you needed, how you needed it.

Anytime you had tried to get the words out, they had fallen flat in your mouth, tasting stale as you stumbled around them. The two of you had slowly been establishing a relationship, something closer than ‘just friends’, and it was scary to you.

Frightening. It was new, and foreign and it made you flustered.

After endless nights he had come over to hang out, there had been kisses stolen between bites of home cooked meals, arms wrapping around your body whenever you read to him, his hands finding their way to touch and squeeze your skin in a way that was more than friendly.

But you enjoyed it. Craved it- really.

So when he had asked if he was allowed to touch you, allowed to kiss more than just your lips and cheeks, you had agreed happily. Though your cheeks burned hot, you had vocalized to him that you wanted it.

But you were inexperienced.

“You’ve never been touched before angelface?” he asked softly, doe eyes wide and sparkling as he peered down at you.

No, you had shaken your head, fingers reaching to grab any part of him you could reach.

“Have you touched yourself?”

“No. And I know it’s so silly I just feel so.. I don’t really know. I don’t know what to do.” you confessed, wanting to dig your head into the mattress like an ostrich.

But he just smiled, seeming more excited if anything. “Oh honey it's okay! I’ll teach you, mkay? You just lay back and be a pretty girl for me yea?”

You nodded, head spinning. This was seriously happening. Bucky was here, and he was caressing you like silk.

“Theres no need to be embarrassed or nervous. I’m here now, okay? I’m here to take care of you.” he murmured, gazing down on you like you were his next meal, licking his lips in delight.

“Thank you Bucky.” you sighed, leaning into his touch. “Good girl.”

His hand reached for yours, the other parting your legs wider apart. The cool air sent shivers down your spine, a pressure churning at your lower abdomen.

“You’re just going to put these two fingers right here okay? It’ll feel so nice.” he smiled, hand guiding yours, helping you slip past your soaked folds to ease your smaller fingers inside of you.

“Oh!” you whimpered as you slipped them in, feeling your soft walls around the digits. “There we go, atta girl.”

“It feels so nice.” you confessed, head lolling against the pillow- anxiety fading away with every little praise he slipped you. “Yea? Put your thumb right here angelface, and roll little circles mkay?”

You jolted as he tapped your clit with the tip of his finger, watching your mouth part into a little O as you began to rub it.

“You're so sensitive aren't you baby? Just wait till I’m inside you eh?”

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

Peter heard you from the kitchen, clear as day. It was almost as if you weren’t even trying to hide it, unaware he was home. He had already made his presence known, slamming his keys down on the counter, shuffling around the kitchen without a care in the world.

He had heard the little machine buzzing from behind the closed door, little whimpers escaping your lips. He groaned, gripping the counter until his knuckles were vampire white, doing everything in his power to hold himself back from what he was about to do.

But the two of you were roommates. It was only fair to himself he checked in on you, for a noise complaint.

Adjusting himself in his jeans, he wasted no time bolting to your bedroom door, peeking it open a crack. The sight before him nearly had him falling to his knees. Your back arched, legs parted as you murmured sweet nothings into the side of your pillow.

“Whatcha got there?” he asked, slipping into your bedroom, making you jump. “Oh god I’m-”

“Well don’t stop now pretty girl, I was enjoying the show! Don’t get all shy on me now.” he cooed, arms crossing as he slumped back against the doorframe, smirk wide on his face.

The prick, you thought, turning off your sanctuary for the night- embarrassed you had got caught, even if it was from Peter. He had heard you before, there was no doubt about it. You wanted him to hear. And you had seen your fair share of his hand wrapped around his cock, fist fucking myself to spill on his stomach. That image made your head spin, always on a constant loop.

“I don’t even know how to use it properly. Don’t get it twisted smartass.” you quipped, making his eyes widen.

You didn’t know how to work it? That wouldn't do for him.

“Stay here.”

“Pete-”

“Stay.” he commanded, voice stern as he stared your body down, watching your chest rapidly rise and fall. His room was only a couple of strides from yours, and it took him next to no time with his long legs, shoving open his door to reveal the mess that was his room.

Bolting right for the nightstand drawer, he revealed his collection of toys he kept on handy, just in case anything came up. And now, something had come up. He grabbed the pretty pink one, the one he had been dying to use on you. It was all he could think about for days, catching his eye the second he saw it. Tonight was the perfect chance for him to experiment on you, make you cry out his name in ecstasy right underneath him.

“Peter?” you called softly from your room, startling him from his daydreams. You were still perched on your bed, right where he left you. Your eyes widened as you took note of the toy gleaming in his hand, coaxing at you.

“May I?” he asked, to which you nodded. You shimmed back on your elbows to your pillow, watching as he sat on your sheets, fingers dancing across your legs, luring them to spread for him.

“Can- can you teach me?” you asked shyly. It was music to his ears. He smiled, that sweet, charming smile that you saw him use so often to other girls, that you had so desperately wanted on you.

You craved his attention like a drug. It was intoxicating when he gave you those little spurts of validation throughout the day, making you want it even more.

“ ‘Course sweetheart. Can you tell me what you were thinking about beforehand?” he asked sweetly, hand dipping down to push your knees apart, unfolding you like a present.

“You.” His eyebrow raised. “What about me?”

“Just, your cock. N’ just… filling me until I’m drooling.” you shyly confessed, covering your burning cheeks with your hands as he chuckled.

“Awh baby. Isn't that so sweet? You want me to breed you yea?”

“Soo much.”

Peter flicked the toy on, the soft buzzing noise causing your toes to curl. “M gonna fill you up till your leaking out of that pretty little princess cunt angel. And then I’m gonna shove it right back in.”

The sensation of the toy brushing your clit made you whimper, hips bucking as he teased you.

“You gotta use it on your clit. Cause that's where it's most sensitive.” he cooed, faux pity dripping off each syllable as your eyes widened, moaning his name.

Your hands slid down to shove him away, the sensation overbearing but he held you still. “S’too much!” you whimpered, causing him to smile even wider.

“Oh but baby I still have so many things to teach you!”

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fandomnerd9602 · 9 days

Text

Patching Up

Fem!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Before you and Petra officially tied the knot, there was a little rough patch.

The time without Petra by your side, whether it was on patrol or just watching Star Wars on her couch with Ned and Harley, was just torture. You just missed her but you needed time to cool off and so did she.

The argument was about the usual: how hard she had been pushing herself as of recently. It was her best and worst trait wrapped into one.

You wanted her to start wearing the Iron Spider outfit as an added layer of protection, you were showing it to her in the Avengers Tower labs at the time.

“It’ll just slow me down” she’d counter.

“I just want you safe, baby” you’d say back.

But she wouldn’t budge. It got into such a heated argument that she shouted, “I don’t need you! I don’t need your help!!”

That broke something inside of you. “I-I’m so sorry” she said, tears already welling up in her eyes. “I didn’t mean that. Baby please speak to me”

“I-I need a break” you said a little unsure

“O-okay” she whispered back before swinging away into the New York skyline. At that moment, it was the last time you saw her for the last week or so. And it’s been absolute torture.

Then came today. You got a small text from Petra which said the following: Can we meet at the Empire State Building? Please.

You texted back: what time?

A short response came: now?

You quickly put on your power suit and flew to the Empire State Building. You found Petra looking out from her usual spot on the rooftop. You could tell she was looking a little nervous and uneasy. You quickly got out of the Iron Knight armor, this was one battle you had to face without your suit.

“Hey” Petra offered you a sad smile, her chocolate brown eyes held so much sadness and evidence of sleepless nights. You weren’t much better, evenings without Petra had been the worst.

“Hey Spider Monkey” you say with a sad smile.

“I-I need to say a few things and please don’t interrupt” Petra was begging you.

“Okay” you agreed with your fiancee.

Petra took a deep breath, “I love you. So much. I don’t want to call off our engagement. And I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean anything I said. I need you and I know where you were coming from”

Petra pauses allowing you to speak, “Petra I love you so much and I can’t bare the thought of not coming back to you”

“I know” she whispered, taking a step towards you. You take a step towards her. “I’ll wear the suit when it’s most dangerous, okay?”

“That’s okay.” you reassure her, “and I promise to honor your decisions and not be so overbearing”

“Okay” she flashes a genuine smile. Petra pauses for a second before leaping into your arms, hugging you tight. She wraps her arms around your neck and her legs around your waist.

“I missed you” she whispers before kissing you. “I missed you so much!”

You exchange a couple kisses, lost in the moment with one another. The heart ache without one another which was so overbearing is now relieved. You had each other back in your arms.

“I missed you too, my Spider Monkey” you say with a little laugh. Petra makes a quick little monkey sound before kissing you again.

It was just a little snag in the fabric of your love, every couple has it. You just counted yourself lucky that you and Petra were mature and loving enough to patch things up. Love isn’t some perfect silk blanket. It’s a quilt, made of patches and images that mesh and contrast, but it all comes together to form a perfect work of art.

Tags: @ma1egamer @jacelion @multi-fandom-enjoyer @supercorpdanbeau @wombatking @iamnicodemus @deafeningsharkslimeempath @russianredassassin @revanshand @konstantin609 @scarletquake-n7 @kingofthelizardpeople

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miela · 8 months

Text

Shattered Memories

Prologue

Pairing: Peter Parker x Silk!Avenger!Stark!Reader Length: Series (Longish, maybe a little over 10 chapters) Series Genre(s): Romance with Dramatic and Comedic undertones (if you squint) Series Theme(s): Fluff, Angst, Smut Series Summary: After Peter sacrificed his identity for the sake of the world, five years go by before he finds you back in his life again. Series Warnings: Mentions of substance abuse, alcoholism, s*icidal thoughts, and possible abusive relationship (not Peter x Y/N) in later chapters. warnings subject to change. Please proceed with caution. Extra Content: One of my OCs are in here! Let me know if you want me to make a character list to reference.

Masterlist

➼ divider by cafekitsune

In the sky there is a crackling sound as a jagged purple band of fluorescent and electric strips open in the air like someone took a knife and cut open the blue of the sky. Peter swung over by your friends, while you swung around the premise of the Statue of Liberty to make sure that no one was left behind from needing to go back to their proper universe. It was a crazy few days. It was a crazy week really. First, going to Italy on the school trip just for it to be interrupted demands from Fury to Mysterio making out Peter to be public enemy number one to this, fighting people from different dimensions just to fix everything.

Just as you thought things couldn’t get any worse, you weren’t prepared for what was next.

“You’re okay!” Michelle Jones-Watson, aka MJ, exclaimed once Peter swung by them.

They all joined in on a group hug before Peter pulled back from them and studied them worriedly. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, we’re okay.” MJ said with a sigh of relief.

At that moment you swung down as well as you took off your spider mask while catching your breath. “Well, that was another successful adventure for the Iron Spider Gang!”

MJ and Ned let out exhausted chuckles with you as Celina smiles big. Everyone looked exhausted and honestly you were exhausted. Your shoulders dropped in relief before Peter grabbed your face gently with his gloved hands, noticing the gash on the temple of your forehead above you eye. His touch took you by surprise as you looked up at him wondrously.

“Oh my god,” He exclaimed as he scanned your face for other injuries. “You’re bleeding…!”

You had gotten the cut during the battle and you had gotten worse injuries before, and each and every time, Peter got so concerned…even if he was in worse condition.

“Oh this? ‘Tis nothing but a scratch, Parker.” You smiled softly. “I’m sure it’s already halfway healed.”

He looked into your eyes filled with worry and a hint of skepticism. “Are you sure?” He rubs his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks gently and lovingly.

“I’m fine,” You smile reassuringly. “I’m okay, I promise.”

His shoulders dropped in relief. “Okay….okay….good.” He then turned to look at yours and his friends, Ned, MJ and Celina, to make sure they were okay. They all gave him tight and thin lipped reassuring smiles and nods in response.

“Um…We should go then, right?” MJ asked after a moment.

“Yeah,” You nodded. “I can summon the Quinjet and we can be home in no time.”

For a moment, Peter struggles to find the words to tell you guys the truth of how this mission will end. Thunder echoed in the sky as you all looked up to see the purple rips that dance across the sky. Doctor Stephen Strange, a sorcerer, was levitating in the sky casting a spell that is meant to solve the merging of the multiverse issue.

Peter let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes and pursed his lips together for a moment before speaking those dreaded words that you never thought you would ever hear in your life.

“You’re gonna forget who I am.”

All four of you look at him confused.

“What?” Ned asked, voicing what all of you were thinking.

“Forget who you are…? What are you talking about?” MJ added.

Celina cocked her head to the side in confusion.

You, who has been through the craziest of situations and knew that anything and everything was possible due to your thankless job as an avenger, caught on to what he was meaning very quickly. You looked up at the purple rips, to Strange and then to the spell before looking at Peter horrified for an elaboration in hopes that he didn’t mean what you thought he meant.

Peter noticed your expression and continued. “It’s okay. I’m gonna come and find you, and I’ll explain everything.”

All your faces fall as you realize that he definitely meant what you were afraid of him meaning.

“No…” was all that you could manage coming out of your mouth. It sounded almost pleading.

Peter cradled your face again and looked into your eyes with determination. “I’ll make you remember me, and it will be like none of this ever happened. Okay?”

MJ, in a slightly panicked state, replied. “Okay, but what if that doesn’t work?”

“Yeah!” you agreed, tearing up. “What if…What if that doesn’t work? What if we can’t remember you? I don’t want to do that. I don’t…I don’t wanna do that, Peter. I don’t want to do that…” You shook your head rapidly.

“I know, (Y/N),” He cradled your face again and looked into your eyes sadly. “I know.”

“But…Is there not something we can do? We can come up with a plan or something! There’s always something we can do…We always find a way. Always. It's literally our job…!” You began thinking of other ways immediately. “What about…what about…” You were at a loss for words as you tried to scramble up an idea from your scattered brain.

Peter shook his head. “There’s nothing we can do.” He brushed his thumbs over your cheek and wiped away your tears before adding reassuringly. “But it’ll be okay.”

“No,” you say again, shaking your head rapidly again as your vision becomes blurred because of your tears. “No, no, no, no….no, Peter, please there must be another way.” you hold on to his arms with an iron grip as you start shaking in fear. “There’s always another way…!”

How could anyone think that you could accept this? You and Peter always had each other’s backs, especially in battle and on missions. You two were a perfect pair, a match made in heaven. How could you let yourself forget him?

You wouldn’t let yourself forget him.

You wanted to graduate with him. You wanted to enjoy the summer before college with him. You wanted to go school supply shopping with him and help him pick out stuff for his dorm room. You wanted to help him move in and set up his room and then spend the rest of the night watching your favorite movies together. You wanted to go to a halloween party with him as you wear matching costumes and be cute together as he introduces you to all of his new friends. You had a plan to make a friendsgiving and you wanted him to be there. You wanted to spend Christmas together and go ice skating and snowboarding. You wanted to move in together and spend the rest of your lives together.

But you couldn’t do all of that if you couldn’t remember who he was now could you?

“We will find another way.”

“(Y/N)...”

“No! Peter, I-I can’t accept this. What if it doesn't work?” You sniffled out as you let your mind race with the possibilities of what could go wrong with this horrendous plan. “You’ll be all alone…”

MJ tried to catch her breath, as Ned’s eyes brimmed with tears. Celina was silently crying. The air was thick but at the same time, it was way, way, way too thin. You felt both hot and cold at the same time and you could’ve sworn your body was going into shock over this.

“Hey, hey…” Peter cradled your face again. “Look at me.”

You looked up at him with sad eyes and a quivering lip.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“(Y/N) S-stark.” You sniffled out.

“That’s right,” He smiled softly. “And what are you?”

“An Avenger.”

“And what do Avengers do?”

“Save the world,” You replied again, you swallowed hard as you tried to not to scream and sob. “W-we save the world.”

“And how do we plan to do that?” he asked, referring to the two of you.

You recalled the day you both became the dynamic duo of the Avengers. You both had promised that you would always stick together no matter what. You both were two halves of one emotionally and biologically, since you both were bitten by the same spider.

“Together,” You gave him a small smile remembering the first time you guys made that oath. “Until the bitter end. Like we promised.”

“And I keep my promises, yeah?” He smiled sweetly. “This isn’t the bitter end. Not yet. I will come and find you.” He glanced up at the others. “All of you.”

Ned looked down for a moment before speaking. “You promise?”

Peter turned to Ned and looked at him with a reassuring smile. “Yeah,” He let go of your face and walked over to his best friend. “I promise.”

Peter and Ned did a bittersweet version of their special handshake. It was almost heartbreaking to see due to how…final it felt. Then Peter pulled Ned into a hug.

“I’ll come find you, okay?”

“I know you will,” Ned smiled sadly.

When they pulled back from the hug, Peter turns to MJ and Celina. He goes over by Celina first.

Celina’s shoulder shook as she hiccuped from crying. Peter worried for her since they’ve been attached at the hip since they were little. They were practically siblings and she would be losing the last of her family…and he would be losing the last of his. But he knew she would be in good hands with how strong the bond of your friends group was.

“Hey,” he started. “I know you’ve been thinking about training with Strange. I think you should do it, Who knows you might need to use a spell one day.” He smiled at her and petted her head endearingly. “You’ll do great out there. I'll always be your big bro, Celi.”

Her lip quivered as she nodded and hugged him tightly. He hugged her back and kissed her head. She’s always been like a little sister to him, despite them being the same age. Once she pulled back from the hug she went over to Ned and hugged him as she cried into his shoulder. Peter then turned to MJ.

“You better come find us.” She sniffled. “If you don’t, I’m just gonna figure it out. I’ve done it before, I can do it again.” She let out a barely-there soft chuckle. “And I will do it again.”

He hugged her for a moment before saying. “I promise I’ll fix this mess.”

He turns back to you again as you look at him and nod knowingly. There was nothing you could do and you knew that this was for the greater good…even if you hated the hell out of the idea of it.

“You better come find us, Parker. Do you hear me?” You said sternly as you poked his chest. “You better come find me. If you won’t then I’ll come find you myself. And If I have to come find you…I swear to the fucking heavens and Asgard, If I have to come find you…I’ll kick your ass into another dimens-”

His lips were on yours in a deep, passionate and desperate kiss, and you returned the kiss back while wrapping your arms around his neck. He kissed you like it was the last time you guys would ever kiss and you returned the energy of the exchange. After a moment he reluctantly pulled back slowly and leaned his forehead on yours softly.

“I really fucking hate magic,” You stated.

Peter laughed softly with a knowing grin. “Yeah,” He replied. “Me too.”

You guys stood there for a moment in each other’s arms in a moment of silence before you spoke up.

“I love you, Peter.” you said to him as you cradled his face as you looked into his eyes.

He looked back into your eyes sadly and endearingly. “I-I lov-”

“Just wait,” You interjected. “Hold on to it and tell me when you see me again.”

“Sure,” Peter responded. “As long as you promise that you won't think I’m some creep and kick my ass.”

You let out a laugh and looked down at your chest for a moment before you pulled at the chain that was under your suit revealing your necklace. You hold it in your hands in a fist for comfort as you close your eyes and sighed deeply with determination. It’s the necklace Peter gave you when you first told you that he loved you. It was a silver spider necklace with two red rubies on it. You thought it was both sweet as heck and corny as hell, but that’s what you loved about it and that’s what you loved about Peter. You unclasped the necklace and looked at it for a moment before putting it in his hand and pushing his fingers down to his palm gently so he could hold it. He looked at you wondrously in response.

“Give this back to me once you find me.” You smiled softly. “I promise I'll remember you.”

The sky around you all began rumbling even more as the sorcerer did his work. The new spell was taking effect and you wish you could freeze time, just so you could memorize Peter’s face a little longer. Hold his hand a little longer. Kiss his lips a little longer. Although you never took for granted the time you both spent together, it still felt like there wasn’t enough time spent together.

Crazy how things can change in a blink of an eye.

You all looked at the sky for a moment before looking back to each other sadly and eyes full of hope that this was just some horrible, messed up nightmare. Peter and you met eyes and he pulled you into another passionate kiss and you returned the kiss back. After a moment he pulled back again, hating the idea of having to do it.

“I promise, I’ll give this back to you.” He whispered, trying not to cry.

“I know you will,” You smiled sadly. “Or else I’ll take it back from you instead.”

He let out a choked laugh.

“This isn’t goodbye,” He added. “Just a see you later.”

“I’ll see you later,” You choked out. “Call me around seven? The usual time?”

He chuckled. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I’ll explain everything then.”

He planted a long soft kiss on your forehead before he pulled away and stepped back reluctantly. You let your fingers glide along his shoulders and arms and hands as he moved. You both hesitated for a moment before you held each other's hands for a long moment before letting go. The feeling was heartbreaking, agonizing and agoraphobic. You wanted nothing more than to latch yourself on to him and never let go as if that would force you to never forget him.

You guys never broke eye contact for that entire moment as if you were trying to find a way to keep the connection between you two alive for as long as possible.

He sighed one last time and jumped onto the ledge you all were standing in behind and looked up at Strange, who nodded at him as a last goodbye. Peter had a knowing look on his face….a look of ultimate defeat and the acceptance of it. He looked back at you one last time, taking in your form like a photograph in his mind.

Although you would forget him, he would never forget you.

You mouthed “I love you, Peter Parker.” With a reassuring smile.

He gave you a sad smile before swinging off the edge. It all hit you right then and there and you let out a choked sob as you collapsed onto the ground and cried so hard you thought your body was going to explode. You had lost so much…so, so much and now you had to lose something else…someone else.

You don’t remember your friends trying to catch you when your legs gave out on you, you don’t remember the spell passing through you, and it only took a moment before you didn’t remember why you were crying.

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sacharinee · 1 year

Text

cute moments i imagine with peter pt. 1!

pairing: peter parker x reader

wc: 2119

a/n: this is my first post pls be nice :( i have lots of cute n random moments i think about revolving around peter. one of them being abt him buying u a lego set only for him to build it and u to keep the finished product. i listened to new home (slowed) by austin farwell while making this and u should too! this was supposed to be a blurb thing but ig not- i hope you like it :)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“okayyy, my turn!”

you’re even more excited when it comes down to peter’s beaming smile staring right at you, and you can’t help but return his contagious smile. you find yourself sitting in a circle on the floor among your dearest and closest friends on a friday night. ned, betty, mj, harry, and peter all join you for a little gathering you held for your birthday.

you peer down at his perfectly wrapped gift; baby pink paper with tiny red ‘happy birthday!’ messages printed across the wrapping with a large white and dramatic ribbon on top conceals what you assume will be the best gift of the night. not because of how adorable the present set in front of you looks, but because it’s from peter. you love anything and everything from peter.

you delicately lift the big rectangular box to your ear and lightly shake it, wondering what it could be as a curious expression paints your face. peter sits directly across from you with his ankles crossed and knees to his chest as his buff arms embrace himself.

“did you get her one of those DIY craft mug kits, peter? god forbid she gets another mug to add to her hoarder collection” ned quips with a mouthful of pizza. “shut up, dude, i didn’t” he whispers.

peter knows you’re touchy about the stockpile on your mugs. you enjoy the witty quotes and funny faces of tv star celebrities plastered on your coffee cups.

“actually, no he’s right. i tried getting a glass from your cupboard the other day cause i was thirsty and a fucking mug fell out and shattered right next to me. the mugs in your cabinets are overflowing, it's a safety hazard” harry shakes his head in disapproval. mj remarks “since when do you care about safety-” “that was you?!” you shriek, wide-eyed. “you owe me a new ‘worlds best boss’ cup.” “what? i could have died!-”

“okay! just open it” peter smiles. a soft crimson flush covers his cheeks, obviously flustered with you and harry’s bickering. harry roll his eyes and pouts while he crosses his arms as everyone stares back at you.

you turn your attention back to the mysterious gift before you. hesitantly, you untie the silk ribbon as it falls flat against the ground. you find yourself failing to hold back your blushing smile, nerves rush through your body and your excitement begins to increase. you carefully peel back the pretty wrapping paper as if you’d like to keep that too. soon enough, the box revealed has you gasping, eyes widening at the sight in front of you.

“oh my- god! oh my god!” you squeal, rushing to unveil the entire box. once finally uncovered, you hold it up in front of you in awe. some of your friends gaze at the present confused as your eyebrows furrow in an attempt not to cry and your lips turn downward slightly.

for a second, peter thinks you’re discontent with his gift, but it quickly fades as he understands your expression. you glance back at him; you think he’s so beautiful like this. with his eyes crinkling because of his wide smile stretched across his face, he relishes the moment, proud that he’s the reason he makes you feel like this.

you sniffle and quickly drag your knees across the carpeted floor with your large gift barely holding on in your left hand. peter brings his knees to his sides and opens his arms as you fall into him. you feel his strong arms wrap around you, yours linked around his neck and peter begins to fall backward, with you laying flat against his chest. yours and peter’s giggles fill the room and you forget that it's not just the two of you in that room. peter doesn’t even seem to struggle with the fact that your entire body weight rests on top of him.

his gentle and loving dark eyes gaze into yours and it tells you everything you ever needed to know. you are so unconditionally in love with him as he is with you. your faces are leveled perfectly against each other and you can see everything up close; though it’s nothing you’ve never seen before. his long thick lashes, his smile lines, his funky left eyebrow, his soft freckles across his nose and cheeks; you would count every single one of them if he’d let you. peter lifts his fingers to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

a loud cough interrupts you two.

you’re quick to roll off of him and plop on the space beside him. “what is it?” betty questions. you quickly glance around the circle, not missing mj’s knowing small smile and raised eyebrows.

ned and harry gasp. you show your gift off to everyone, “it’s a lego set!” you excitedly beam. mj and betty give you adoring smiles. you gleam back at peter, “i’ve been wanting this for forever” you gush, “how’d you know?”

“when my laptop broke down and you let me use yours,” he begins, “i wasn’t trying to peek but you had like a million tabs open- which you really shouldn’t because it could lead to a lot of technical problems down the road with your comput-” “you wanna talk about computers breaking down?” peter squints down back at you. “that’s beside the point, anyways, you had a bunch of sites of those flower bouquet lego sets up and i figured you might’ve wanted one,” he answers. “also every time we stop by at barnes and nobles you rush to the toys section for the legos and talk about how you’ve always wanted one so…”

you roll your eyes and continue to grin down at your present. you hold it close to your chest. “i love it.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

ned and harry were already out the door when betty and mj began to say their goodbyes. “we’ll see you at lunch tomorrow right? to study for chem?” “sure, betty. i’ll see you guys later. thanks for coming” you smile at them. betty waves at you as she catches up with ned and harry while mj tugs down at your wrist, “so, you and peter huh?” she smirks. you hate how observant she gets sometimes.

“it’s nothing.” “uh huh” “mj!” “i’m just saying,” she shrugs. “you and peter look really cute together, and i’m happy for you two. i could tell he really likes you.”

you appreciate her comment. mj hates to show affection lots of the time, so it means a lot to you when she does. “thanks em.” you hug her goodbye, while all mj sports is a soft double pat on your back and you laugh at her “go home.” she laughs back at you and turns on her heel, “bye!”

you lock your front door and walk back into your surprisingly tidy kitchen. peter stands at your sink drying the last dish and placing it back into your cabinets as he turns around only to find you staring back at him in amusement. “what?” you shake your head at his innocent smile. the side of his hip leans against your stove and you take a few steps towards him and link your arms around his neck. he cranes his neck down for you to reach him more easily.

you place a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth, “you didn’t have to get me anything, pete.” his free arm wraps around your waist and turns you so your back is facing the stove, and his body cages yours. he smiles into the needy kiss he plants against your lips; one that was suppressed for your friend’s sake of finding out that the two of you are in a relationship. you and peter are still finding the right time to tell them.

peter hums into your mouth when your hands find their way to his hair and lightly pull on it. “you don’t know how badly i wanted to get it for you. you can finally have a plant that won’t die on you” he smirks. “hey!” your hand lightly slaps his broad chest. “my plants survive.” “sure, babe.”

an idea flashes into your mind as your eyes sparkle with excitement and it piques peter’s interest in whatever you’re thinking.

“wanna help me build it?” his eyebrows raise at your request. you know he wants to. after you, peter loves his legos. you giggle as he fervently nods his head and follows you to your room.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

and that is how you and peter end up sprawled across your room with the empire strikes back playing on your tv. you’re lying stomach-down on your soft mattress with your chin resting on your laced fingers as you stare at peter on the floor, working on building your flower bouquet.

you couldn’t care less about the movie, you’ve watched it about a hundred times with peter around already. instead, you’d rather watch your boyfriend, working so hard and determined on the lego set. you can’t even see his eyes but you can tell his brows are furrowed and see the tip of his tongue sticking out in concentration.

when you asked him to help you build it, you did not exactly mean for him to take over it entirely. but within the first ten minutes of unpacking and assembling, you started to get overwhelmed with how many pieces there were. you tried your best starting with the daisies while peter went on to work on the lavenders but you soon got bored of building it. peter happily took over for you since he was already finished building his flower. “go rest,” he mumbled and kisses you on the side of your forehead; he moves over to your spot and finishes what you started.

that explains your current position. the star wars movie is close to the climax and you find it funny how legos can completely distract your boyfriend from his all-time favorite movie; sometimes you struggle in capturing his full attention when this movie plays on the screen.

“aaaand done!” he presents your gift in the air with a proud smile on his face. you take a mental picture and keep it engrained in your mind forever. peter already took the liberty of taking one of your empty vases lying around your room and filling it with your new flowers, but not before asking what happened to the plant that lived in there previously with a raised eyebrow to which you just pouted and cluelessly shrugged your shoulders at.

you squeal in excitement as you clamber off your bed, taking the bouquet into your own hands and placing it on the cleared space on your desk.

you stare and admire his generous gift for you and your heart bursts at the seams. you let out a content sigh, “it’s perfect.”

you swiftly turn around to face him and he’s staring at you with a loving smile, “you are perfect,” you compliment. shuffling towards him, you stand on your tiptoes as your warm hands cover his soft cheeks, his arms around your waist. your plump lips meet his chapped ones again to which he eagerly returns. the kisses you two share are deep, held with so much emotion and affection for one another, it makes it hard for you to believe peter is really yours.

he pulls back breathlessly, “i love you, y/n/n.” you blush and kiss him back, walking him backward until the back of his legs hit your bed frame and he sits.

you crawl on top of him as he lays down completely against your cushy mattress. you lean down towards his face while sitting in his lap, his hands find their home on your hips gently. peter’s adoring smile grows as you pepper his face with smothering kisses. soft giggles leave his pink lips. with the way he gasps for air, it sounds like he drowning in affection from you. he squeezes your hips as he gets overwhelmed with your kisses, and you think you can feel your heart getting bigger by the second.

you take a moment to pause and catch your breath, peter too. it’s close to the middle of the night; the movie is far along into the credits and long forgotten. you and peter start to realize how exhausted you guys are, mirroring each other's yawn. you slide down beside him with your right leg hooked around his waist, palm against his chest with your head laying in the crook of his neck. you place a feather-like kiss under his jaw, and you see him rest his eyes in peace as you mumble back, “i love you.”

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bumpkinspice0 · 10 months

Text

Parallels: Chapter 3

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!FemReader

No use of y/n

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI!!!)

Word Count: 1400

Summary:Miguel was consuming your every thought and it's becoming an issue. You wonder if he's having the same problem.

Warnings: Smut- Male (Shower) masturbation, Sexual frustration, Pinning, tension, Angsy as hell, learn a little more about reader's life, J. Jonah Jameson is in every universe Notes: I just realized I never said that the 'shared spider-sense' theme of this fic is entirely inspired by the relationship between Peter Parker and Cindy Moon, or more commonly known as Silk. They were both bitten by the same spider and share a spider sense, making them drawn to each other and ALSO able to track the other through the multi-verse. Silk is a an awesome spider character. 10/10 recommend checking out her comics (But I say that about every comic) I'm not sure Miguel and readers connection will be exaaaactly the same since they literally couldn't have been bitten by the same spider, but yeah. This is a totally cannon thing spider people can do 😅

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Series Masterlist

AO3

Chapter 3

On My Mind

The restaurant was busier than you’d like, but really everywhere in this city was. Busier just meant louder, and louder meant earplugs for you. After having advanced hearing for nearly a decade you’d gotten used to it by now. You didn’t want to spend all night asking people to repeat themselves because you could over-hear everything that was happening in the restaurant. Right now you just wanted to be with your friends— unfortunately, your mind kept drifting elsewhere.

Since you returned to your dimension 3 days ago, Miguel has consumed your every waking thought. Your daily hero life was suffering for it. You lost 2 robbers last night and missed a car chase this morning because you were too stuck in your own head. You were never one to get distracted on the job— and by a guy no less.

I should have stayed in the training room. I should have stayed longer and maybe we could have…

You’re not entirely sure what would have happened, honestly. This was uncharted territory. Some undefined connection only between the two of you? An innate sensation that drove you to horny madness. It sounded like a bad comic book plot. You’d probably had weirder things happen in your nearly 10-year-long spider career but this was by far the most frustrating.

Just the thought of him invaded your every sense. The deep rumble of his voice. His distinctive, rich smell— Like red wine. The taste he left in your mouth.

You wanted him. You wanted him so badly, and you hated how much you wanted him. You didn’t even know anything about him.

Fuck Miguel O’Hara and whatever the fuck he was doing to you.

But Miguel was a Spider-Woman problem.

Tonight you didn’t want to be Spider-Woman. You wanted to forget your interdimensional side gig and the broody, gigantic man that was driving you insane. Tonight you just wanted to be a good friend— and you were failing miserably at that too.

Your best friend Jack wrangled his boyfriend, Ash, and your college friend Sue to come out for drinks and your mind couldn’t be further away.

“Hey, space cadet!” Jack snaps his fingers directly in front of your face. You’d been staring at the same potted plant across the room for probably 5 minutes now. You crash back to maddening reality.

“Sorry, what?” you reenter whatever the conversation was now with a pitiful smile.

“Ash asked what’s new at the paper,” Jack repeats the question you never heard. He gives you a worried look. Jack knew about your double life. He’d known you for so long now, you couldn’t hide anything from him. He'd catch it whenever something was slightly amiss before you could even articulate a single word— thus why he lined up this friend's night in the first place. You’d been reclusive since you’d joined the multiverse.

“Oh, at the Bugle?” You take a generous swig of your cocktail, “Jameson’s still behind on the times, I think. Keeps trying to push papers instead of giving our digital department more funding. I’m still only making stuff for print. Like, do you even remember the last time you even read from a newspaper?”

“Honestly, I don’t think I ever have.” Ash snorts.

“Maybe in high school,” Sue taps her chin, “And even then it was for like an assignment.”

“People still need paper-mache supplies!” Jack interjects.

“Hey!” you playfully shove him, “That’s my entire industry you’re shitting on, sir!”

“Oh, so you’re defending the infamous J. Jonah Jameson now?”

“I’m but a lowly graphic designer,” you clarify, “The only thing he wants me to do with his precious paper is not look too much like The Times .”

You’d landed your job at The Daily Bugle in college. An internship turned full-time staff position. You’d gotten Jack some freelance work there on the side. He was seemingly the only photographer that could get a halfway decent picture of the mysterious Spider-Woman. He always gave you a small cut of whatever Jamason was willing to shell out. You didn’t know how to work a camera for crap, but you knew how to pose for a picture.

The evening rolls on with a pleasant demeanor. It was nice to be talking to non-spider people. To listen to the casual ramblings of your friend's completely ordinary lives. That new bitch at work or their mother calling one too many times a day. You envied them, honestly. It’s been so long since you could just simply live . This night out was a small taste of what you’d been missing. Connection.

And, of course, it gets ruined.

The nearby wail of sirens penetrates through your foam earplugs. They were maybe 3 blocks away. Once you hear it, you can’t unhear it. All conversations fall dead in your ears, your focus now entirely on the possible imminent danger to your city. The sirens are getting further away now.

A vibration from your phone in your pocket catches your attention. You check it under the table. A text from Jack.

‘Sidejob thing?’

He always texted you in code about Spider-Woman business. He must have seen your face go placid, even though he can’t hear the distant sirens. You give him a faint nod across the table and he glances to the door— His silent message loud and clear.

What are you waiting for? Go.

You know Jack did his best to understand, even if he never truly could. You had a duty. It wasn’t just a job, but who you were. You could never just stand idly by.

You quickly make an excuse about forgetting a deadline and shimmy out of the booth, leaving a few bucks for your meal. So much for no Spider-Woman tonight.

____

Fuck you. Get out of my head.

It had become his mantra for the last few days— of course, it didn’t help anything, but cursing you gave him some minor vindication.

He found himself in the shower 20 minutes longer than usual, attempting to give himself some kind of relief. The thought of you waiting on your knees for him clawed at his mind. He stroked his painfully hard cock to the image, now forever burned into his retinas.

He never got distracted. It wasn’t in his nature. He prided himself on being the best leader he possibly could be. Attentive, knowledgeable, a team player— and for the most part, he was. Now you had come and thrown a wrench into all of that.

He should have known from the first time he saw you this would be a problem. It caught him completely off guard, but how could he have been prepared for… whatever this was? He was in the midst of building an empire, and there you were, as casual as ever— and so clearly just as confused as he was. A spider-sense suddenly manifesting? Ridiculous.

As soon as you locked eyes, he knew this was all because of you.

God, you were beautiful.

There had been few times he let his instincts take hold of him. He’d made himself into an apex predator in search of his spider abilities— he had to hold himself to a different standard than the rest of you. He was dangerous, and whatever this connection is, was dangerous in turn.

He couldn’t control it, not yet anyway. And seemingly, you couldn’t either. You were both prey to your most primal desires and irresistibly drawn to the other to satisfy them.

He couldn’t escape your assault on all of his senses. He was fixated on you in every way imaginable. Your smell, your voice, your looks— your taste.

He cums to the memory of your soft thighs squeezing his head. He heaves shaky breath after shaky breath, trying to gather his composure. It was hollow, fleeting relief. He can’t help but think you could have made it better— He knows you’d have made it better. He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the foggy glass and is immediately disgusted with himself.

He’d never been this way before. You were part of his team, a fellow hero that decided to join his league. He was your boss, for lack of a better term. This couldn’t go on. At least not the way it was currently.

He needed answers.

He was a scientist. It was time to do some research.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099

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sookiesookie · 1 year

Text

swim good₊˚.༄ shuri udaku pt.1

titled inspired by “swim good” by frank ocean

paring: shuri udaku x blk fem! reader

summary: (a cliche) in sitcom-like fashion, an unathletic shuri udaku attempts to join the swim team to impress a girl she likes.

part summary: shuri is smitten and her lovesick ass gets into trouble.

word count: 2.5k

content will include: third person story-telling + reader goes by all pronouns, nerd!shuri, pining!shuri, athlete stem!reader, reader is aware of shuri’s efforts and finds it adorable, the reader is a huge tease, reader’s a flirt but they’re rlly sweet too, reader is shorter than shuri but stronger, college au, swim sports au, peter parker and friends cameo as her lil nerd group (???), shuriri are besties and dormates, swim teacher!namor, t’challa is alive and he’s the wrestling team coach :’), wrestling team co-coach!m’baku, fencing teacher!okoye mentioned, literature teacher!nakia mentioned, shuri’s hair is the short coily undercut in this story, I refer shuri by like six diff nicknames for fun bc it’s funny and we having fun, by “purple-clad” shuri I mean purple flannel and not the tracksuit, y’know, bc she’s a nerd /hj, I call them teens bc they’re still eightTEEN and nighTEEN, a good chunk of the story is just the other characters dogging on shuri for her sitcom ahh decisions and lines lmao, lots of banter, sitcom-like corniness and humor, sexual jokes but not rlly any content, some tension tho, pretty much fluff, just a lil fun🤷🏾‍♂️

a/n: i didn’t know whether to make this a college au or high school au bc technically I’m bout to leave high school but I’m also not in college yet so idk what id get right or wrong sooooo I’mma play it safe and go freshmen in college???

tags: @bellaallebbella1 for the dt @pinkwright @inmyheadimobsessed @zayswriting @generallysapphic bc they’re the pioneers and my favs fr, and @vampzxi cuz it’s lowkey inspired the shuri high school headcannons even tho it’s not rlly even close but shoutout fr

alsooooo since just getting back into writing like this outside of school direction and im not used to writing a straight shot one shot, this gon be multiple parts IM SAWRIIIIIIIIII, it’s only 2 parts tho

AGAIN THIS IS MY FIRST FF IN A WHILE AND I DIDNT HAVE ANYONE PROOFREAD IM SAWRI IF THE PACING OR THE PLOT COMES OFF INCOHERENT😭😭

[MONDAY AFTERNOON]

Her smooth silk brown skin glistens

under the sunlit illuminated windows

as the water trickles

down her broad shoulders

to her god-crafted muscles,

flexing with every step they take

ever

slightly

out the pool.

Their chest heaving,

a slightly tired

yet heavy gaze

as they skim around the room at their peers,

eyes landing on one particular figure

with a similar look in their eye.

Her stoic demeanor is slowly replaced

with a playful smirk as she eyes...

wait…

SHE’S LOOKING AT ME-

SHIT!

Shuri snaps out of her internal monologue, jumping from the huge glass that peered into the school’s aquatic center, and quickly bolts through the double doors that lead to the hallway. When she’s out of sight, she slumps over, catching her breath. “Wow, Ms. Nakia would have either granted me an A+ or sent me to the principal’s office with the type of words I was thinking,” Shuri chuckles to herself.

After a brief pause at her words, her face heats up as she quickly facepalms in shame.

“What the hell am I saying?”

Reluctant, she trudges down the hall in embarrassment, making her way to the place she considered her third home: the science building computer lab (her second home was chemistry lab 2b).

In there resides Peter Parker and Ned Leeds, sitting around a desktop clicking away at some first-person shooter game, with an unwavering MJ Watson sitting a couple of seats away from the boisterous boys, head in a book per the usual. All three teens lined up in typical geeky fashion. Shuri slumps her book bag over a computer table, the sudden noise breaking the immersion of the boys who then looked up from their game, spotting the presence of their purple-clad friend.

“Dude, what have you been doing all this time?” Ned scowls. “We didn’t have any clubs today and we’ve been waiting for you for the past twenty minutes to walk to that new milk tea cafe MJ’s been telling us about.”

Not lifting her head from her book, MJ snarkily remarks, “She’s probably been too busy ogling the crap out of that poor girl over at the aqua center.”

Shuri’s face heats up as she’s quick to defend herself. “Cut it out! Of course I wasn’t!”

MJ smirks, still not looking up from her book. “Sorry, lemme rephrase that better: she’s probably been too busy eye fucking the crap out of that poor girl over at the aqua center.” Blood rushes through Shuri’s cheeks as she sputters incompressible excuses from her mouth, MJ giggling at her discomposure from her book.

“You’re such a mess, Shuri! When are you gonna finally buckle down and rizz her up– or at least go up and talk to the girl instead of borderline stalking her almost every afternoon?” Peter playfully pokes the purple-clad.

Shuri sucks her teeth, swatting him away. “One: the word ‘rizz’ sounds extremely uncanny coming out of your mouth. Please refrain from using that word around me again.”

Collective snorts bounce off the embarrassed white teen whose shit-eating grin twists into a poker face.

“Two: I don’t eye Y/N almost every afternoon.” Shuri pshaws and waves everyone off.

“Oh, my bad!'' Peter dramatically gasps, slapping a hand over his chest. “It’s every morning, lunch break, assembly, dinner break, class transition, and EVERY afternoon.” Collective snickers break out as Shuri backhands Peter, not harshly, but hard enough to derive a strained “ack!” out of him.

“But seriously, Shuri, it’s about time you try and get this girl’s number.” MJ goes on, finally looking up from her book and putting it on the table spine up. “It’s no use for you to keep on hopelessly pining after this girl from afar and not putting in the effort to actually pursue her.” Shuri slumps into a chair and releases an exasperated sigh.

“I do, but what would a versatile and talented girl want with a one-trick pony nerd like me?” MJ visibly cringes at the purple-clad’s words. “Ewww man, this isn’t the 80s! We are NOT living in a Disney Channel sitcom. There’s a lot of people would go for somebody as smart and intelligent as you, you know that.”

“Yeah, maybe to do their homework for them,” Shuri retorts. MJ pauses. “Hmmm, now that claim, I won’t completely disagree with...” “MJ!” Ned dramatically gasps as he lightly slaps MJ on the shoulder.

“Don’t listen to her, Shuri. You are perfectly capable of winning Y/N over just the way you are.”

The purple-clad snickers. “Now THAT was something you could’ve sworn was straight out of a Disney Channel sitcom.”

About 15 minutes later, the eccentric group of teens close up the computer lab and continue down the hallways with milk tea on their minds… except for Shuri. She trails behind the bunch, head hung low, peeping at Y/N’s Instagram.

As her walking gets slower as she’s gaping at her phone, the coil-haired nerd brushes her shoulder against what she thinks is just a wall. She lifts her head to notice the shorter, dark, and gorgeous swimmer— the same one on her phone that she still had in open view.

“Oh! Whassup, Miss Shuri!” Y/N’s eyes light up as he greets the taller.

Shuri’s breath hitches at the lovely emphasis put on her name, blood running cold as she quickly checks her peripheral to make sure the gang wasn’t around to humiliate her more than she already was.

Meanwhile, the teens heard what was going on behind them, but chose to continue on their merry way, intentionally leaving the two alone in the middle of the hallway.

She looks back at the short athlete and returns the greeting with a bashful smile. “What brings you here, Y/N?” The nerd quickly asks in a desperate attempt to carry the conversation, forgetting that people don’t need a reason to just roam the halls, something she mentally facepalms herself for right after.

“Nothin’ much,” Y/N chuckles at Shuri’s nervous efforts. “I’m just coming out of my swim practice. Mr. Namor was runnin’ me dry today.”

The athlete pauses as if she’s recalling something, the corners of her mouth slowly curling into a knowing smirk.

“I saw you peeping me over at the center earlier,” she drawls, “figured you wanted to speak to me about somethin’?” The athlete’s tongue subtly swipes across her bottom lip, as she gazes up at Shuri with a particular look in her eye, irises occasionally shifting down to the open Instagram page still on her phone, waiting for an excuse.

It was enough for the poor nerd to melt into a puddle, knees buckle and collapse, and lay sprawled across the hallway floor right then and there, but luckily for her, she still possessed a pinch of dignity left within her. With fleeting composure, gripping her backpack strap with strain, Shuri gives a weak pshaw.

“Me? I was just passing by! I just really like watching the team…”

You…

“...practice.”

As Shuri desperately attempts to form more words that can potentially save her, her eyes flicker to a *very convenient* bulletin board behind the shorter athlete. There, plastered on the brown surface was a poster: “CALLING FOR NEW MEMBERS! Swim Team Tryouts This Thursday at 5 pm! Swim Your Way To Success!”

Oh, Bast…

“In fact, I’m thinking of trying out for the swim team myself,” the nerd straightens up and states proudly, hoping she masked the way she winced at her words.

Y/N, who was expecting a different answer, gapes at the helpless girl in slight shock. “Oh, for real? That’s crazy! I never pegged you as a swimmer, Shuri.”

The nerd’s mouth forms a goofy grin. “And why is that?” She dramatically slaps a hand on her chest. “Is it because I’m of the darker persuasion?”

This derives a hearty cackle out of the shorter athlete, Shuri’s stomach fluttering from the fact that she made the girl laugh.

“Negro, please,” Y/N catches his breath and straightens up. “It’s because… I mean…” The shorter athlete trails off, eyeing Shuri up and down, the nerd’s cheeks heating up in the act.

“You know what? Nevermind. I can’t blame you for wanting to try. Hell, I’ve been swimming since 4 years old, the feeling’s exhilarating.” Y/N sighs off into the distance, as Shuri internally gushes at the shorter athlete’s passion.

Suddenly she snaps out of her trance and backtracks on the words of the other girl.

“Can’t blame me for wanting to ‘try’? Are you still assuming I can’t swim?”

Y/N waves his hands in defense. “No! I’m just saying–”

“Well I’m GOING to try out, I’m GOING to swim like a pro, and I’m GOING to get on the team!”

After a brief pause at her sudden outburst of competitiveness, Shuri reels it back in with a small “...respectfully,” and a cheeky smile.

Amused at the nerd’s sudden wave of confidence, Y/N clasps their hands together in accord. “Sounds like a plan then! I guess I’ll be seeing you Thursday then.” The shorter athlete readjusts the duffle bag strap on her shoulder and starts to walk closer to Shuri, laying an encouraging, yet, knowing hand on the taller’s shoulder, and leans into her ear.

Shuri could have sworn she was imagining what was rasped next.

“Word of advice: work on that backstroke… I know I will.”

Y/N then pulls away with an innocent grin and brushes past the appalled nerd, continuing on their merry way, but to suddenly turn around to yell one last thing:

“And your phone’s still on!”

Frozen in place, the girl slowly peers down to her cellular (one she made the mistake of changing the display settings to go into sleep mode after 5 minutes) still on Y/N’s Instagram page.

Once the athlete was out of sight, Shuri’s knees buckled as she grips the nearest wall, releasing a sigh of relief, quickly washed over with a wave of anxiousness.

What have I got myself into?

“Y’know a backstroke is a type of swim move, right?”

Riri chuckles at Shuri as she clicks away on her calculator, doing her homework on her bed. The young prodigy lifts her face from it being buried in her pillow and whines.

“But she said it so… sultry like… and her voice was so… raspy… it felt INTENTIONAL!”

“Or maybe your horny ass misconstrued her words and heard ‘backshots’ instead of ‘backstrokes’!” Riri giggled as Shuri proceeded to throw a pillow at the girl.

“Regardless, either word could be used as an innuendo, she did it on purpose,” Shuri retorts.

“Okay, okay, whatever. Sooo, what are you gonna do?”

Shuri flops back on her bed with a sigh. “I will try out for the swim team, like I said I would. I mean, she sounded so intrigued when I mentioned I was interested, and the passion in the way she speaks about it— I should at LEAST try.”

“Aww, I guess that’s fair,” Riri begins to coo. “If you knew how to swim.”

“Huh?”

“Shuri, I have never seen you TOUCH water unless it was for drinking or an experiment, let alone be EMERGED in water outside of taking showers and baths in it. We’ve had campus water activities and pool days before and each time you’ve said ‘I’m busy, I’m busy.’”

“Well I was, you know I have school work as my top priority.”

“We have them during school breaks, Shuri, you don’t work on a school break!”

Riri releases an exasperated sigh. “Shuri, can you swim or not?” The prodigy gives her friend a hesitant look. “I mean, I’m not the worst at it…”

“Shuri, just say you’re shit at swimming.”

“Fucking hate it.” Shuri blurts out. “Haven’t stepped foot into a pool since I was 6.”

“Damn it, Shuri!”

“You wanted me to be honest!”

Riri chuckles in disbelief, shaking her head. “That’s not even it, Shuri! Swim team try-outs are on Thursday, that’s in THREE DAYS! You barely know how to swim, what makes you think you’ll be ready within the next three days?”

“I’ll figure it out, okay?” Shuri stresses, trying to calm herself down. “I mean, you seem to know how to swim. Why don’t you teach me?”

“One: you dug this silly lil’ hole yourself,” Riri wags her finger at the prodigy, “I’m not helping you with shit. The most I’ll do is braid your hair back the night before so it can fit better in the swim cap you’ll have to put on. Two: I couldn’t teach you even if I wanted to because I wouldn’t have time, I’m stacked up on homework for the next few days.”

Shuri groans in her pillow, flopping back down on her bed once again. The young prodigy felt hopeless with no more ideas left… except for one last hope.

“No.”

“C’mon, brother! This is my love life on the line!”

T’Challa chuckles, crossing his arms. “You got yourself into this mess when you knew you couldn’t swim.” He raises is hands in defense. “You have a death wish, I am not helping you.”

“But that’s what Riri said!” Shuri whines.

“Well Riri is a good friend, keep her around. As for me, I have a gym to organize so I am going to continue what I was doing.” T’Challa does just that as he starts to pick up idle weights off the floor.

“I’ll pay you!”

“I have a job, and you’re a broke college student.”

“But with an internship!”

“An unpaid internship.”

“I’ll be your very best friend!”

“I’m your brother, and I already have plenty of friends.”

“Oh, like that old brute that works alongside you?”

“I heard that, you oversized midget!” A snarky coach M’baku scowls from the connected office.

“I’m 5’5!”

“And I’m 6’5, midget!”

Shuri rolls her eyes waves him off. “You work with that oversized man baby,” she sneers to T’Challa.

The older chuckles as he continues to tune out his sister’s persuasions while he tidies around the ring.

“Brother, please!” Shuri drops to her knees dramatically, rubbing her hands together in impatience. “I’m becoming desperate, I REALLY need your help!”

The younger continues to plead as the older man begins to cringe at the pathetic display, checking his peripheral to make sure she wasn’t causing a scene for unwarranted pedestrians that may walk past the gym.

“Okay okay, I will help you! Just stand up, PLEASE! You’re embarrassing me!” T’Challa quickly reassures the girl on the ground.

Shuri’s pleas quickly halt as she jumps to her feet, showering her brother with “thank you”s.

“Ahh, don’t thank me yet,” the older waves the girl off. “And I’m only going to be RE teaching you the basics. Any extra stunts you want to pull for your little girlfriend besides that will be on your accord.”

“Deal,” Shuri clasps her hands together.

“Now will you please leave me be? I have a gym to attend to.”

“Whatever,” Shuri remarks as she starts to head for the exit, “But just know I will be at the gym pool, bright eyed and bushy tailed tomorrow morning!”

The girl slaps the doorway wall and points at her brother, who both chuckles and cringes at her enthusiasm.

Once the bubbly teen was out of sight, M’baku wheels himself to the office doorway in his rolling chair.

“You know she’s going to drown herself.”

A reluctant T’Challa sighs. “Yep.”

To be continued headass…

317 notes · View notes

cosmal · 1 year

Note

lizzy mcalpine — send me a lyric + a character and i’ll write you a blurb.

tasm!peter parker + “I wanna go out on the weekends, I wanna dress up just to get undressed”!! (another lizzy lyric sorry I love her)

tired

summary you and pete ditch your plans.

content tasm!peter parker x reader

note I need him so bad u dont understand.

You're almost at the bar, you can hear the music spewing from the brickwork from where you and Pete have just gotten off the bus. He's a few feet behind you and you know he's tired. The both of you are.

You stop and turn back with a hand outstretched. He looks lovely. A pair of dark grey slacks and a white tee. He's got a linen button-up over the top that's rolled up just below his elbows. You haven't seen him so dressed up in a while. You want to stare at him for an inappropriate amount of time.

Pete meets you and takes your hand. You tug him into your side. "You okay?" you ask lightly. You reach a hand up to tuck a stray curl away from his face.

"Yeah," he says just a quietly. He squeezes your hand, the other dragging up your bare arm. Squeezing and feeling the fat there until he reaches your shoulder. He slips a finger under the strap of your dress. He seems just as adored by your outfit as you do his. He struggles not to show it more than you.

"You're not tired?' you ask, letting your hand fall back to your side.

"A little."

You lay a kiss to his shoulder, thankful you have nothing on your lips. You both must look like a pair of lovesick fools standing under a street lamp. Touchy in public.

"Thought so," you say back. He's slow, robotic with his movements. He grabs your hand more now, answers your questions when he remembers. He's an easy tell when he's tired. You've grown accustomed to his sluggish touches and clingy hands.

"You?" he asks after a beat.

You want to lie. Want to tell him you're not just as tired as he is. He'll probably end up feeling worse and pretend for the entire night that he's fine.

"Yeah," you say back, smiling.

Peter straightens his back. He tries to look more alert and fails. You should be inside now, you're already running late. "Okay," he says, "well we can go say hello to everyone. Have no more than two drinks and slip out the back?"

You smile even worse now. "We can't do that Pete. If we go, we have to commit."

"Right," he says firmly. "Yeah."

You try for your best convincing smile. Something demure that Peter hates because it gets him every time. "Or we could just hail a cab and go home?"

Peter looks mildly relieved. Like he'd been thinking the same thing. He wants to smile as well but tries to steel himself you can tell. Tired, he has no room for sternness. "You sure?"

"Yeah, we're both exhausted. We'll last twenty minutes in there." You can imagine it now. Peter slumped against your side in the beer garden trying to hold a conversation - you, even worse.

"But you spent so long getting ready." He runs a hand down the silk of your dress for proof, hand splayed over your hip until it rides up a little. "You look gorgeous."

"You said so," you beam. "In the bathroom. The stairs. The bus stop, on the bus." You feel dizzy with the memory. You'd been just as giving with your compliments until he'd gone pink in the face.

"Well, it's true."

"I only dress like this for you," you admit, with a hint of sheepishness. "You've seen me, now we can go home and you can take it off of me,"

Peter groans and tries to hide it. His adam's apple strains through the skin of his neck as he swallows. Tired, he's not stern, still, he's needy as ever - more if you're honest about it.

"Good idea." Peter shoots his hand out quickly to hail a cab.

Back at his flat, you're both suddenly not tired. A stupid, giggling mess as you both take each other's clothes off. There are no expectations. Peter lets your dress pool at your feet and stares at your face. You steal his arms and pull him closer until your hip bumps his.

"This is much better," he mumbles before kissing you. Breathless and wanting.

"Much, much better," you agree, smiling like you can't help it.

Peter leans out and looks at you. "You wanna have a shower and then listen to music in my bed?"

"We can share your earphones?"

Peter grins. "Yeah."

fixing the readmore glitch <3

371 notes · View notes

secretaccountlol · 1 year

Text

Love and bonnets.

BLACK READER X PETER PARKER.

+18 SMUT!!!

No summary this time just gotta read it yourself :3

Word count: 3898!

TW? : uhm hair?? Uh the L word?! (Love) this is a pretty sweet fic so..also typos I’m sorry!

Author note:..hey ..soo.. did yeah miss me? Lol. Okay yes I’m sorry that haven’t uploaded in…like 3 months. This was originally was made in FEBRUARY.. for black history month and Valentine’s Day..(lmao yes Ik)

So sorry, also if your wondering on your request I’m sorry and I haven’t forgotten about you!!! I have this thing where I need to finish one story first, so since I was stuck on this one.. i never could start the other ones. Anyways enjoy.

Your mouth emits a low groan as the god rays blind your eyes, as you sit up stretching tight limbs.

You rub your neck as you look down, “goddamnit!” You pick your bonnet off your bedsheets, you kick your covers off in a rage making quick steps to the bathroom mirror

You pout seeing your hair thrown around your head like you were attacked by a windstorm. Looks like it’s another hat day, knocking at the bathroom door makes you jump.

“Hey, you done in there?”

“I’m naked!”

“No. you’re not, your lotion is still on your counter and I know you like to moisturize right after the shower. So open up, pleaseeeee? I gotta pee!” Before he could knock again you swung the door open, Peter’s shocked face turns into an inquisitive one.

“Your-“

“Don’t-“

“Didn’t y-“

“Yes,” you bum shoulders as you barge through the small doorway of your shared bathroom.

“But you-“

“If you mention it you’re anti-black!” You pause your feet, swiveling back to face him, “Also- don’t look in my room, it’s creepy!” Your arms cross as you speak, quickly turning around, not awaiting an answer.

“Your door was wide open! I didn’t look on purpose! A-and I’m not creepy…” you hold your laughter as you hear Peter mutter, “I'm not creepy” again as he shuts the door. You hum to yourself as you scan over each hat in your room, picking up each one as you put it against your forehead.

“I think it’s better to try them on, then put them against your forehead.” Peter’s voice sends a shiver of embarrassment as you turn to him, your mouth open to speak,

“Here, try this.” Your eyes are covered for a moment, Peter shifts the beanie to restore your eyesight you stare at his grinning face before turning to face your mirror.

The beanie fits your head perfectly, snarky blue embroidered webs were splashed on it, with the cutest spidey head logo winking back at you, and holy shit,

silk lining inside?!

“Pete, this hat is absolutely…” Your hands reach up to brush your fingertips against the embroidery making sure you weren’t imagining the intricate stitches.

“What? Is it not comfortable? I ca-“

“ Absolutely, adorable! Is it mine to keep?” Your eyes shift to his face which is bathed in blush, a simple nod acts as your answer.

You giggle as you pick clothes to go with your new hat using your bed as a display, your head tilts to look at Peter who has returned to his rightful place on the doorframe.

“Lookin’ for something, hm?” Your hands play with the fabric of your clothes as you speak.

“Oh? I give you free shit and you wanna kick me out?” Peter’s head rested on the doorframe tilted as he smirked, he really didn’t know how handsome he was, did he? You bit your lip.

“Nooo! I’m not kicking you out and you know it, Pete.” You roll your eyes before turning towards him taking slow steps. “But I do have to change and I like you Pete but not enough to let you see me naked, not yet .” Your tongue peaked out behind your teeth as you spoke,

Your hands rest on the door as you slowly inch it closer and closer to Peter’s body, he doesn’t finch opting to stare at you instead, eyes scanning you head to toe. “Are you imagining me naked?” Your eyebrows raised as Peter’s eyes flicker to your lips then to your eyes.

“No..” Peter’s voice wasn’t very convincing, you scoff pushing him out of your door frame, “I’ll be out in a minute.” You shut the door in his face.

“Singles night is a go!” You burst into the room, a new outfit on your body. Peter’s head lolling back to look at you, “Cute outfit but it’s definitely not night, at least not yet.” You frown taking a seat next to him.

“No need to be such a Debby downer, just a name.”

“Mm, yeah a name that only makes partial sense” Peter hands you a bottled drink, you block it with your hand.

“Beer? No thanks-“

“Mm, not beer. Fruity liquor, what do you take me as? A frat boy?” Peter’s hand hit his chest fingers splayed

In a fake offense.

You giggle, taking the bottle from his other hand, Peter pops the cap off for you.

“Why aren’t you taking a fine lady out for Val Day, Petey? Definitely hot enough to get some.” You bump shoulders with him.

He hums before answering, his soft eyes falling onto yours, “I’d just..rather spend it with you.” You swear you saw hearts in his eyes.

“Pete.. if you keep talkin’ like that I might take it the wrong way.” Take a sip of your drink, checking the label, 4.25% so it’s not the alcohol talking.

“What if I want you to take it the wrong way?” Peter’s eyes hung low as he inched closer, your hands clamping on his mouth as you shifted towards him as well.

“This is a very cruel prank for you to play, Mr.Parker.” Your words were just above a whisper as you moved your hand away, sticking out your tongue returning to your previous position.

“Wasn’t a prank..” Peter takes a sip of his drink as he turns away from you, also returning to his lax position.

“Anyways, weren’t we supposed to go somewhere today? Hence my need for the cutest hat ever !” Your head tilted to him as you looked up at your hat, god this hat was just so stellar.

“Mm, consider this a pregame I set the reservations

later today.” Peter’s voice was warm and smooth, like whiskey.

“Shit, reservations? I’m not dressed for a fancy place, oh no I gotta go change no-“

“No- you don’t, it’s not a fancy place. I just wanted to make sure we get a seat cus you know, day of love and all” Peter laughed, easing your nerves.

“Don’t scare me like that!” You fake hit him, he dodged a smirk playing on his lips.

“ I didn’t! You scared yourself like that!” His hands shot up in a defensive stand, you scowl.

“Ya yeah laugh it up..”

A comfortable silence falls between you and him, you shift trying to get comfortable again, feeling a bit cramped from sitting up straight. Peter lets out a soft sigh, patting his lap. You oblige his request, your hat shifts off your head, Peter gently pulls the rest off your head. You open your mouth to protest but before you can his hands start to massage your scalp, your eyes close as you let out a groan.

“Dude, that feels amazing..” you hummed snuggling closer to Pete’s torso as he scratched.

Your mind wanders as you drift off to sleep.

“Wash day? Like for clothes?” His eyebrows knitted together as he racked his brains for answers. “No, for my hair.” You paid him no mind as you grabbed all your hair products, plus a towel.

“Why a whole day? Can you not just wash in the shower and go?” Peter followed you into the kitchen he spoke watching you line up the bottles of hair products. Turning on the water, checking its temperature, and moving the dial to your liking.

“Cus, It's easier to wash it here and takes a long time. Plus, it’s what my mom always did. Of course, those days are over and now I have to wash my hair.. no spa treatment for me. “ you pout, wash days were a favorite growing up. Minus the pain of detangling, you loved the scalp massage, and the greasing of your scalp, just thinking about it made you miss home.

“I can do it for you.” Your eyes shot to Peter suspiciously.

“Do what for me?”

“I could wash your hair for you, I don’t mind.”

“Peter..-“

“Seriously! Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it! I'm a very quick learner, plus.. I uhm.. really like your hair. “

You smile softly at Peter’s confession, “You like my hair?” Peter gives you an exaggerated nod, “I like how soft it is.. and how shiny it gets.. I just- really interested in it? I hope that’s not weird.” He puts his hands up before scratching the back of his neck.

“It’s not! I’m just surprised you noticed.”

“I always ..notice you..”

You bit your lip, “Uhm, well. Here I’ll show you what to do.”

You never thought you’d enjoy walking someone else through the process of doing your hair. It was actually relaxing too, Peter’s hands were way gentler than your mom's so that helped too.

Since that day you would occasionally catch him watching videos about black hair, or reading an article on his phone when he thought you weren’t looking.

“Hey, can I try something?” Peter breaks out randomly as you both sit in the common space.

“Depends? What’s up buttercup?”

“Well, uhm. So, I’ve been doing some research.”

“Ooh, research? On?”

“Well, your hair.. and I-..wanted to try to do a different style.. if you’d let me..?” Peter’s voice squeaked, you watched as he physically cringed, you giggled at his dismay.

“Yeah, it sounds like fun.”

“Seriously??” Peter’s bright eyes stared at you with wonder.

“Yeah, I trust you.”

Thus began the weekly hair appointments with Peter the stylist. He tried anything and everything natural, Bantu knots, box braids, cornrows, and twists! Nothing was too much for him.

“Why can’t I do your hair for our dat-uh..hang out for Valentine’s Day?” Peter’s arms were folded as he pouted, standing between the doorway trapping you.

“Mm, because you’ve been spoiling too much! I practically don’t remember how to do my own hair. Plus, I want my hair to be a surprise and add to the excitement!” You grin.

“You’re plenty exciting on your own for me.”

“Whatever- now move!” You push through him.

“Hey..”

You groan, your eyes squinting.

“Hey, wake up-“

You whine as someone shakes you gently, your eyes flutter open to Peter’s brown hair and soft eyes.

“Hey, sleepy head.”

Your subdued smile playing on your lips, “Mornin”

Your hand reaches up, caressing his cheek. Your smile splits into a grin as he leans to your touch.

“I got something to show you.” His hand lays over yours.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but I gotta get up to get it.”

“Mm- nooo,” you frown.

“I know but I’ll be quick, promise”

“Okaay” you lift, watching Peter walk to his room. You draw your knees close to your chest as you wait for Peter to return.

Your eyes light up when you see a small box with a bow tied neatly around it in Peter’s hands.

“It’s- it’s not much so”

“I don’t care! A gift is a gift, the only thing is you’ve given me two things today and I haven’t even gotten you one thing..” you sulked as he sat in front of you.

“No worries, I didn’t want you to anyways.” His hands extend the box out to you, your fingers graze him as you take it, and goosebumps formed on your arm from the light touch. He sits on the floor in front of you closely watching your reaction.

Your hands shake slightly as you undo the ribbon, opening the box carefully.

A piece of fabric was neatly folded in the box, your curiosity grows as you pick it out of the box, unfolding it gingerly.

A bonnet. He’d gotten you a bonnet, you turn in your hands a few times.

A bonnet with hearts on it-

Wait-

A bonnet that had the cutest collages of you and him printed on the hearts, your fingers trace over both of your smiling faces.

You turn the bonnet in your hands, noticing more little details. Your birthday and name sewn on the side in your favorite color, an adjustable satin strap to keep your bonnet from slipping, and to top it all off the same cute Spider-Man logo that was on your beanie he gave you earlier.

“Peter..”

“You like it?” He grinned.

“Awe I love it!!” You crash on top of him, squeezing the life out of him as you squeal.

“I don’t know who you commissioned but jeez you must have paid a shit ton for such awesome craftsmanship!”

“Actually..I sewed it myself.”

You pull back to look him in the eyes, “Are you serious, Pete?”

He nods as heat rises to his cheeks, “ I wanted it-.. to be special, custom. So I ..made it myself.” His eyes glanced away from you bashfully, shrugging his shoulders as he spoke. You lift his chin, your fingers stroking his jaw, “Thank you so much, this.. means a lot .” Your voice was just above a whisper.

His eyes lock onto yours, his hands on your waist. For the first time, you're keenly aware of how your bodies are touching. Your legs basically wrapped around his waist, your crotch painfully closed to his, your chest pressing lightly against his.

“Can I show a bit of my appreciation?” You feel like you’ve been running a marathon, breathless as you spoke.

“Yeah..yeah I’d like that..” Peter’s eyes flickered to your lips then back to your eyes half-lidded.

Your lips graze his before you both take the plunge. Soft lips collide, your hands travel up to his hair tracing circles.

A satisfying pop rings through both of your ears as you separate, your forehead bumps against him as you stare into each other's eyes.

“I got something to show you, wanna see?” You mimic his words from earlier.

“Yeah,” he mimics you back.

“But I gotta.. get up to show you” You bit your lip, grinning at your little joke.

“Nooo” Peter laughs, pulling you closer.

“It’s either that or you carry me to my room, silly”

Peter shrugs, “okay”

“I’m jokin-“

Peter’s nose bumps yours as he lifts you, your hands are clutching his shirt in an instant, “Peter-!”

“What? You said to carry you..”

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it, Let alone be strong enough!”

“Please you’re like a paper towel in my hands” he kisses your nose, “These muscles aren’t for nothing.”

“What muscles?” You stick out your tongue, giggling.

“Hey! I can still drop you, y’know.”

“Yeah, but I know you won’t.” You press a quick kiss to his cheeks as he gently lets go of your legs.

“What did you wanna show me?”

You grin, skipping over to your bed.

“This.”

“This?” Peter cocks an eyebrow.

“Know what this is?”

“I do.”

You sit down on your bed, “it’s a bed.”

“It is indeed.”

“Mm, do you know what we do on beds?”

“Sleep?”

You motion for him to come closer to you, he obliges by nestling himself between your legs, he towers over you making you crane your neck upwards. Normally this would be terrifying but with him. He looked like an Angel with the lights shining behind him.

“They also have sex.” You bat your eyelashes, you can make out the outline of his face as you speak but not his expression.

“Do you want..to do that?”

“Do what, Pete?”

“D-..do you want to have sex..?”

“Mm, Peter you’re so forward!” You teased, your hands toyed with his belt.

“May I?”

“Please” his voice cracked, desperate for your touch, for you.

Your soft hands undo his belt, unbuttoning his jeans letting gravity help you pull the pants to the floor. Your hands trace his boner through his underwear, palm the head, squeezing softly earning a soft groan. Your hands travel to his waistband, tugging it down slowly like a prize being revealed.

You pump once, Peter's hips jerk forward “Your hands a-are so soft..- sorry.

“No worries, Peter, I enjoy knowing you like my hands. I wonder how much you’ll like my mouth?” You line up your mouth to the tip of his cock, planting a kiss.

“Wait-“ Pete’s hands wrap around yours, “I’m afraid I’ll -..cum if you go any further....-“

“Oh? That sensitive..?” Your eyes flutter, head tilting in question.

Peter's hand covers his mouth as he glances away from you, “On-only because it’s you..and I don't want to be the only one naked..-if that’s okay with you of course.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, “I’m okay with that..”

You shift up the bed to make room for him, Peter’s leg finds a place between your thighs planting soft lips against yours. Hands trickling down to your breast, “Can I?” His eyes were like saucers as he stared into your eyes as you nodded yes.

He lifts your shirt gently, pulling it over your head. His hands grasp your waist giving you a gentle squeeze before helping you wiggle out of your pants. His hands hover over your bra, “Are you okay?” You run your fingers through his hair breaking his trace.

“I..I’m okay, you’re just beautiful.” Peter’s hand soft cups your breast as he stares at you, your lips let his name slip through.

His thumbs slide into your underwear, pulling back and snapping your waistband making you both giggle.

“Whatcha doing down there?”

“Taking my time with someone I love..” He bites his lips, with those big brown eyes that you adore.

You guide his hands back to your underwear, letting them grip your sides, “Well, that someone wants you to fuck them.. so I insist you continue.”

“Well if you insist..”

His fingers hook onto your underwear sliding them down your legs, you giggle as you kick them off once they get to your ankles.

“I swear I just saw your dick grow a few inches…”

“Mm, probably because I’m lookin’ at the most beautiful person in the world.” Peter’s hands prop himself over you as you up at him, stealing a kiss from his smiling lips.

Your hands trace down his chest as Peter leans in for more kisses, his lips move to leave delicately placing nibbles down your neck and collarbone. Nibbles turn into hickies as his mouth gets closer to your breast, his hands fondle your left breast before kissing the nipple of your right breast.

“You’re so warm and soft..” Peter mumbles, flicking your nipples with his tongue.

“It’s probably cocoa butter..” you bite your lip as you stare at him,

“Is that why you taste so great too?” Peter grins kissing your tits again before letting his tongue drag all the way down to pussy.

“Is that.. a chocolate joke, p-peter.”

“Nope, but feel free to grill me about it later.” Peter’s hands slide down to your hips, forcing your hips up slightly to meet his mouth.

He presses a kiss against your clit, sending pleasure through your body.

“Pete-“

“Shh- I got you.” His thumb gently presses against your pearl as his tongue dragged down, his eyes low as his tongue wiggled its way into your hole.

“Ohh, Pete..!” your hands find their way into his hair, tugging at the soft locks of curls.

Peter hums in approval, tongue probing deeper into your folds, his hand slides to your pussy, his thumb strokes your clit with a warm touch.

His palm pressed against your stomach softly to keep you from bucking up as he eats you out.

Your fingers yank at his hair as he strokes your pearl faster, earning a gasp from Peter, his eyes connecting with yours, a small smile playing on his lips as he makes his way back up to your face, fingers still playing with your clit.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Fuck, yes.. I- need you inside of me..” You press a kiss at the corner of his mouth, tasting a bit of yourself on your lips.

Peter smiles as he dips down to capture your lips, as hips lined up with yours, replacing his hand with his dick letting it press against you.

“Condom?”

“Bedside drawer.”

Peter pulls out a condom from your stash, flashing it toward you while grinning.

“Naughty..”

You bite your lip in response, “Wouldn’t you rather me be prepared? “

“Yeah, otherwise I’d be running like a madman to my room to find one.” Peter’s brown hair flopped around as he spoke, hovering over you before pressing his lips against yours.

You hum as you feel his cock pressing against your hole, he wraps your legs around his waist as he sinks his cock into you.

Muffled moans are exchanged as your tongues clashed with each other.

“You feel amazing.” Peter’s lips nipped at his neck as he thrust slowly, “This okay?” He flashed his baby brown eyes at you.

“Y-Yea I’m okay, you’re just.. a little big.” A whimper slips through as you speak, “Shit, Peter..you’re filling me so- so well....” you squirm, squeezing down on his cock eliciting a muffled moan from his lips.

“Holy shit- that felt amazing please do that again, squeeze me again.” His hips thrust forward, your head throws back, squeezing him simultaneously in response.

“Peter..!” Your hands rake down his chest as he fucked you into the plush bed.

“Fuck, s-say my name again, please- I need I-it.” He grip your hips in a bruising he slams into you, you hummed his name out in chants as he pumped in and out of you.

“You’re so beautiful” his left hand slip up into your hair massaging the roots as his lips graced your skin, his thumb stroking circles into your skin, “Peter- I’m- “

Your back arched from his continuous touches, his hand pressed on your belly making your head loll back in pleasure.

“Oh god- shitshitshit. Right there-!Sosos good- “ your mouth drooled as his pace quickened, “I’m comin’-“

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight. I’m- “

Peter’s hands grip your waist as lifting your ass off the bed, ” I’m- gonna cum..!”

“I-I’ve wanted to do this for so so long-“

Your body goes limp as he fucks you through your high, “I love you- fuck I love you so much..!” Peter’s cock swells inside of you uttering more confessions as he cums, until his pace dwindles into small nudges.

His nimble fingers trace your hips before, reaching to engulf you in a tight embrace.

“That..was really really good.”

“It was..”

You both pause, it’s a comfortable silence.

“Did you mean ..that? When you said you loved me?”

Peter’s head which was in the crook of your neck moves to hover just above yours.

“Of course, I meant that.” His hands caressed your face, kissing the tip of your nose.

“I really do love you, if.. that’s okay?” He rubs the back of his neck, looking away slightly.

“Of course, that’s okay, Peter. Cus I..love you too.”

You could feel a rush of heat to your cheeks, as Peter’s eyes connected to yours in surprise.

“You do?”

“I do.”

His lips are instantly on yours sucking away your breath, you both pull back when you hear his phone make little chimes.

“I swear if it’s a spam call-“ his lips never stop kissing yours as he speaks, making you giggle.

“Sh- that’s the alert for our reservation!!”

“Wait- what?”

Both of you shoot up immediately, hopping on various clothing.

“Are we even gonna make it on time?”

Peter pauses for a second, “Mm, maybe if we swing there..?” His voice cracks a bit, making your lips split into a grin.

“I’m feelin’ adventurous today, why not?”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker #tasm fic #peter parker fic #peter parker oneshot #tasm andrew garfield #mcu!peter x reader #tasm smut #mcu x reader #mcu!peter parker #tom!spiderman #mcu!spiderman x black!reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peterx black!reader

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maple-the-awesome · 1 year

Text

Heir ||

Pairing: Mob! (any) Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 2,825

Requested by Anonymous: Okay so can u write (or if u don't take request can we just discuss?) about mob! Peter Parker when the reader is pregnant?? Like he'd be absolutely hyperactive and take care of her every second. Not leaving her for a sec alone and then taking all his work into his office at home bc he just wants to stay near to her. Constantly spoiling her and buying her everything she is craving, baby proofing the whole house, constantly having sex bc she is extra horny and then of course talking to her baby bump when he thinks she's fast asleep!! Just . So. Cute. I'm always a sucker for pregnant reader stories. Here you go 💜 Warning: Suggestive/Explicit content (nothing too detailed, but the request does involve a horny pregnant reader and Peter's a deliverer, sooo~)

Marvel Masterlist 🖤 Fandom Masterlist 🖤 Requests

Peter Parker, a young tycoon from upscale New York who likes to attend the most lavish of social gatherings and only owns what is considered 'top of the line' be it clothes, jewelry, houses, cars - you name it, but that is, of course, a part of his carefully constructed public image. Hidden in secret and shadows, his name is one often whispered as a form of jinx from the mouths of the criminal class. They understand the red ink Mr. Parker's name is written with; they know the true nature of his work.

Peter has quite the reputation, to put it short. Extortion, loan sharking, and corruption of public officials can be considered the 'nicer' side of his dealings, although seeing the exact lengths most individuals go through just to avoid a frown upon his face, it can easily be concluded that he's perfectly willingly to go much further if business calls for it.

He's headstrong and cold meaning that, once he sets his mind to something, there is no convincing him otherwise unless a certain voice is to plead it. There is a voice that can speak louder than his all by a mere breath against his ear; a sound sweet enough to poison his every thought, shatter his iron will, and remove that fearsome reputation of his like a form of temporary baptism.

For you, his precious wife, there is only 'Peter', a loving husband so devoted to the one who holds his heart that he would remove mountains if you preferred the view, carve the earth until it's hallow if you desire a gown of rare gems, and set fire to all of New York just to see your face shine in the golden flames. For you alone, Peter will take a knee, being whatever pleases you, although at the moment, all you ask is that he accepts defeat.

It's quite amusing really. Within the years of your marriage, you've heard countless accounts about how savage and gruesome your dear husband is; the wolf from fairy tales or, more fitting to his nickname, a spider haunting the dreams of those with severe arachnophobia. You'd be more inclined to believe such stories if not for how adorable he currently looks, his legs sprawled out across the floor as he struggles to put together the complex design yet remains very adamant that he will not be accepting defeat against a pile of rosewood.

You've been here watching the scene for well over an hour now, sitting rather comfortably yourself in a new rocking chair while snuggled up in an equally young silk blanket, soft cotton pajamas, and wool socks with a warm mug of ginger tea housed in your hands.

Without anything else to truly do and knowing full well any offers of assistance will continue to be denied (you've tried), you have taken to either sitting or pacing about the room every now and again to stretch your aching back, but you make sure to do the latter sparring since you've discovered the more you move, the more you increase poor Peter's worry.

The record so far is five minutes before your husband is hovering at your side, fussing like a British nanny over something: do you need anything, princess? Medicine? Another blanket? Is it too cold in here? Too warm? Perhaps it's best if you go lay down or shall we go for a walk in the garden for some fresh air?

It's amusing to you how doting Peter can be - well, how much more doting he can be, is a better way of putting it. Truth be told, he has always been an attentive husband, existing at your every beckon and call despite his own busy work schedule.

Each morning, you awake to kisses down your collarbone and a freshly picked flower next to your plate at breakfast. Throughout the day, he spares every possible second that he can for your request, becoming all yours during those breaks no matter how short. Do you want to read together in the library? Eat lunch in the garden if he has that much time? Peter has never been against any suggestion regardless of how rushed he may be in the moment, going as far as to sneak into the nearest closest for…Well, you can probably use your imagination for that part.

Peter prides himself on rarely letting you down, pained too deeply by your tears and too afraid of your shouts (a funny thought considering what his job entails). Fortunately, your fights are few and far inbetween, his anger reserved for work alone, not his precious wife who, quite honestly, is the only good thing to enter his hectic life aside from May and even Ben when he was still around - Oh, and also that little life you currently carry within your womb; they’re a fairly recent add on to Peter's list of loved ones.

You remember it like just yesterday when you had first told him the news. You, yourself, had been a nervous wreck despite having been actively trying for children. All of your preparation and desires seemed to instantly go out the window in that moment, replaced by the weight of the world upon your shoulders as you stared at that little white test confirming for certain that you are, in fact, carrying the weight of a little world inside of you.

Pregnant? Are you really ready to do this? Can you really be a good mom or will you somehow mess it up? What if Peter was only pacifying you when he offered to fulfill your desire of bearing his children? What if he wasn't being honest then and actually detests the idea of children running around his mansion, screaming and creating messes as children typically do? So many worries plagued your mind that day, all put to rest once receiving Peter's true reaction.

It took him a minute - actually four - where he just stared at you, letting the wheels turn inside his head while carefully asking if you were being serious. Then, within seconds - which is no exaggeration -, you were within his arms, your face soon cupped in his hands as he tearfully asked you the same question again followed by giddy laughter when you confirmed it a third time.

Your husband has always been doting, however now that you hold his child - his heir - this behavior has been increased tenfold. You officially bear double the importance to him, thus any harm that may befall you would become his downfall leading to him collapsing in on himself like a dying star (excuse his dramatics). Therefore, Peter has amplified his protective and attentive behaviors, becoming a hyperactive presence in your life that can be admittedly overwhelming at times.

It began plainly enough with him moving all of his work to the home office where he could be within range of your calls for every second of the day. Parties, business trips, and anything else that would require traveling became forbidden, not that he ever cared much for them anyways. Security had also been added upon with Peter triple checking all interviews and background checks which were usually entrusted to his right-hand man, Miles, who has never steered him wrong before, but one can never be too careful.

While not bad in the beginning, Peter’s anxieties soon became suffocating. His innocent research into all things parenthood soon started viewing every piece of advice or recommendations as holy. The doctor said too much of something isn't good to eat? Then you won't taste a grain! There can be germs around the mansion that cause you illness? Everything must be washed! Everything! Oh, and the mansion must be entirely baby proof! Each corner, every nook and crank - Nothing left to chance! Simply put, Peter doesn't want to take any chances, treating you as if you're some sort of ticking time bomb which is, in a way, true given your horrendous mood swings at times.

For a while there, it felt that Peter was coming to you everyday with something new he wanted to try. Playing certain music to help the baby's development or drafting a new meal plan that gets rid of some of your favorites because a certain ingredient isn't 'good for you'. Being currently drained due to a changing body, you’ve been in no mood for Peter's 'crowding', and the meal thing had been your final straw. He unfortunately learned this the hard way when you finally lost your patience resulting in a full hour of shouting at him then another sobbing your apologies.

After that day, Peter has backed off a little. He still spends every night reading parent books which are left stacked at his bedside, but he's much more reasonable with his suggestions and has learned to not believe everything he reads, usually running it through Aunt May first just to be sure he won't get his head ripped off if he brings the information to you (yeah, you're not quite sure he's recovered from the trauma of your scolding, poor baby).

Of course, you can never truly be mad at Peter for caring, something he knows, too. Pregnancy is stressful both mentally and physically, thus it's lovely to have a husband just as willing to trek through the ugly as he is to observe the beauty.

As it's hopefully been made clear, he has no issue in spoiling you. Anything you want is yours to have. Are you craving some foreign food? He'll have it flown in or hire a special chief to prepare it just for you. Do you wish for cuddles? He'll move his schedule around the best he can to accommodate for a day in bed, snuggled in mounts of blankets as you rest comfortably in his arms. Even if you're suffering from horrible mood swings, be it awful crying or livid screaming, he will happily endure it feeling it's the least he can do in return for all his wife is doing for him.

Oh, and then there's the sex. Why hadn't anyone told you being pregnant would make you this horny? Some days, you're barely able to keep your hands off of poor Peter (not that he's actually suffering in any shape or form, quite the opposite). Of course, you blame him for it because not only did he make you this way, but he insists on being in the same room as you practically all hours of the day. How are you not to leap at him when he's sitting right there, looking all hot and sexy as he runs his hand through his hair or bites his lip in concentration while going over paperwork?

…Yeah...Peter's probably fucked you more than he's actually completed any of his work, but when your wife is sitting on top of your lap, peppering your neck in kisses and pawing at your erection all while swelling with your baby within her womb? What's a man to do?

Looking back at how perfect Peter has been, you don't think you could ever feel more confident in who you've married. He could've turned you away that first day you asked him to impregnate you, he could be doing the bare minimum without any personal inference just to keep you ‘happy’ and out of his hair, but instead, he has remained loyal to his responsibilities, going above and beyond in the name of pure love. It's enough to make you swoon (and maybe a little aroused, damn your hormones), however at the moment, you're a bit too tired to express any of it outwardly. Maybe later when you have the energy for something more physical.

Right now, you only wish to close your eyes, enjoying the warm sun which floods through the window at just the right angle that it blankets you in the rocking chair - something you're sure Peter took into consideration when planning the layout of this nursery. Bless him indeed.

You have zero intentions in moving, too warm and too at peace especially since the baby has finally stopped wiggling around like a little worm inside of you. Not wanting to disrupt the precious bean, you'll remain put in silence where you can both rest together.

You hear Peter give an exasperated groan from where he sits on the floor. Based on it, you're certain he must have his hands in his hair, tugging at the roots. Accompanied with the sound of him stretching his legs and the amount of time it takes him to actually stand up, you'd guess it must've been hell for his muscles to stay in such a position for so long, not that you feel that bad, only for a second at most. If you've survived seven months of your entire body aching, he can surely manage a numb feeling in his legs for a few minutes.

He tip toes over the hurricane of wood planks, but gives a good kick to some of the screws with a hissed breath and hands placed on his hips. He'll have to ask Miles for someone who can build this damned crib for him, he doesn't have the patience to fiddle with it any longer, but at least his anger is forgotten once he looks at you. The golden sun dressed over your face, the peaceful rest of your skin and slight part of your cherry lips as you take in each breath: you’re truly the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, a fact he is constantly reminded of especially in the small moments like this.

Peter wonders if your baby will take after you. He desperately hopes so, if not in appearance than at least in personality. He hopes that whoever they end up being, it isn't anything like him. Although he was happy to take Uncle Ben's place in the business, it wasn't what Ben wanted and, now that he is going to be a father himself, Peter finally understands that.

The more he thinks of his precious child, the more certain Peter becomes that he doesn't want them to be his heir. He doesn't want them to know violence or bloodshed, lies and deceit. He doesn't want them to tell the other children at school that their daddy is their hero - to ever think such a thing in admiration because that would just be the first step down his path.

He wants them to be like you. He wants them to be kind and patient, fair and dignified. He wants their love, yes, but he also wants them to be realistic as you are - to know that what he does for a living isn't truly a good thing and that they should strive to be something more, something better. They don't need to be proud of him, but he will forever be proud of them. That's what Uncle Ben wanted for him, and while he failed on that front himself, he hopes his child can do better; he'll do better by being around to lead them down that right path.

Kneeled in front of you, Peter whispers all these things, his hands gracing your swollen stomach as he makes a trail of endless promises to the unborn child who can’t process any of it at the moment, however that's fine; Peter will be there to remind them of his love throughout the rest of their life.

"...I can't wait to meet them..." He hushes, pressing his lips to your stomach in a long kiss. Only a few more months and he'll be able to do the same to their forehead. He'll likely never stop either, not if he remains this drunk on admiration towards them.

You smile, blinking open your eyes to gaze down at him, "They can't wait to meet you either."

"How do you know?" He challenges playfully, leaning into your touch when your hand rests upon his cheek, always so warm to him.

"Because they kick anytime they hear your voice," you explain, letting your other hand fall onto your stomach, "They were sleeping peacefully until you started talking. Now they’re wide awake waiting for you to say more."

"I'm sorry," he doesn't look it, a delighted smile still tugging at his lips. He always apologizes, although he's far from being meaningful. Sorry that you must endure so much pain and stress, but not sorry that it's all going to be for your beloved child. Nine months in return for a life which will continue to grow and carry the best traits of you both, isn’t that a good deal?

Fortunately for your husband, you have never been truly mad, agreeing that it’ll indeed be worth it in the end. Slumping back your head against the chair, you close your eyes again and hum as you remind him, "...Peter, they're waiting for you to say more."

He beams, dropping his head lightly against your stomach where his ear can press against your covered skin as if it’ll allow him the deepest connection with the life waiting inside, "Then I will say more."

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