#tasm! peter parker x reader

[luveline]

hiiii jade!!!! could i please request something with peter with reader who’s maybe put on some weight recently and is insecure about it?? (totally not self indulgent at all) i totally get it if you’re not comfortable writing that stuff though so no pressure

hi lovely! ty for requesting. fem, 1k

cw for negative weight talk/ weight gain

Everybody gains weight during the holidays, you think, tracing your figure in the mirror. Though it's not strictly holiday season yet, it's edging toward the end of the year. Maybe my new year's resolution should be losing a few pounds. 

There's a thunk of the bedroom window being yanked open and footsteps across the floor. You tense until your hear Peter panting for breath, likely having swung to you at high speed, or fresh from a fight with an usurped criminal. 

You rush back into your t-shirt, knowing exactly what path he'll walk. He barrels into the bathroom, sees you at the mirror and smiles so wide his cheeks look fit to burst. "Hey," he says, peeling the suit off and exposing his boxers to you without shame, "hey hey hey. Can I persuade you in with me?" He nods toward the shower. 

"Not this time, Pete." 

"Too bad," he laments. 

You look away as he strips out of his underwear. The shower turns on and he takes you by the hips to move you out of his way with a murmured apology, near lost to the drum of the spray. Peter has moments where he doesn't know his own strength, but the majority of the time he treats you like you're something precious. 

"Stay in here!" he demands as he pulls the curtain shut. 

"I'm not going anywhere." You close the toilet and sit on the lid. "Tough day protecting the people?" 

"Apart from tripping into a deceptively large pothole, it was fine. Why won't you come in here with me? I wanna rub your shoulders." 

"You want me to wash your hair." 

"Exactly. So get naked and get in here. Don't make me beg." 

You really don't want to, and you're not going to, but it's not a big problem. Peter doesn't truly mind, he just loves you. "What do you mean, deceptively big? Like, knee height? Higher?" 

"Mid thigh, I'd say. The people of New York are never gonna let me live it down. One guy was recording me and said he was gonna put it on YouTube for the ad money." 

"Anything else?" 

He gives you the rundown, describing what perps he faced and an older man he helped use an ATM machine. You hum distractedly, pinching at the fat where it spreads on your thigh, sitting down as you are. 

He sticks his face through the curtain gap, hair slicked to his cheeks. "What're you doing?" 

"You told me to stay, so I'm staying." 

He's nervous for a split second, glancing back into the shower as though there's an answer there waiting for him before angling himself toward you fully, his naked chest dripping and shining in the bathroom light. "Okay, fine, we need to talk about something. But I want you to know that you forced my hand here. Okay?" 

"Okay." You nibble the inside of your lip, used to his theatrics. "What have I done?" 

"It's not something you've done. It's something you are. I can't even say it. I," —he pulls the curtain in front of his face, moves it aside again– "just need to tell you. Lately it's like you don't even realise how beautiful you are and I'm tired of it. You're radiant. Like, glowing." 

Your recent internal debate must show on your face, that doubt, because he gives you a steadying smile. "Really, really beautiful," he says more seriously.

It's easy to smile at him. "Thank you, Pete." You scoop his suit off of the floor. "I'll go scrub the tetanus out of this in the kitchen sink." 

"Wait–" 

He can't just get out with suds in his hair, giving you the perfect escape plan. You have ten minutes to yourself filling the sink with soapy water and steeping the fabric before he's out of the bedroom in pyjamas, trousers tucked into his socks and hair damp from ferocious towel scrubbing. "You're such a– such a– thing," he decides. "I'm telling you you're beautiful and you walk off so you don't have to hear it? What's wrong with you?" His voice slips into a kinder register. "You do know you're pretty, right? I'm not just saying it to say it." 

"I'm just feeling icky," you confide. 

"About what?" 

You want to tell him, you find. "You know how I've gained weight?" 

He doesn't need any more explanation. Peter knows you've gained weight, you've mentioned it to him, and it's visual, and he can likely tell whenever he decides to flex his strength. "What, and you think that makes you less pretty?" He puts a damp hand behind your neck to bring you forward. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, a little." 

He kisses you. His nose bumps your nose, his lips crushed to your as he holds you in place. Despite this, it isn't an overly rough connection. It's definitely not shy. "You're beautiful," he says in the space between your lips. 

"It doesn't suit me–" 

"It does. It really fucking suits you. Have you seen yourself? You couldn't look better." 

"Even when I was thinner?" 

"You look just as perfect then as you did now." His intensity fades and he encourages you back enough to see your face, his thumb rubbing a short line into your neck. His brows are furrowed, dark eyes darker for it. "Weight isn't a factor." 

"No, but you have to say that." 

"I don't. Not really. I'm sure there are a thousand shitty guys who'd tell you something different, but I'm not– I love you, the whole you. I like you like this." He grins. "Which should be obvious." 

You tsk at him, to his delight, his laughter boyish as he buries his face in your neck with a hug, kissing a messy circle up and into the soft line of your jaw. You trap him there without thinking, chin hooked down, squirming as he blows hot air into your skin. 

"I've been putting it on too," he says. "It's happy weight." 

"It's not happy weight for you, Pete, it's just more muscle." 

"It makes you happy, doesn't it?" he jokes, smiling and kissing and hugging you all at once. "Just like it does on you for me."

[ohcaptains]

𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

college! peter parker x fem reader.

18+ only !!! f! receiving oral sex. peter parker has an oral fixation i said what i said. in my spider-man era again.

peter was a weekly visitor at this point. sometimes, it was twice, but never more than three. three was pushing it.

Three said that Peter meant something to you, and you couldn’t have that. No, whatever this was between the pair of you was strictly transactional. It was Peter texting you late at night, the classic, you up? Gracing your screen, and every time, you would pretend to be annoyed.

As if Peter coming around to give you the greatest head of your life was an inconvenience. Tempted, the devil on your shoulder smirking, to type back, Jesus, again? but never doing it. Instead, you wrote: sure.

Still, it plagued your mind. He never asked for anything else.

It was as if he did this purely for himself.

“Oh fuck,” you mewled, clenching down tight. The hand that was wrapped around Peter’s brown curls clutched and tugged, and the unconscious movement earned you a chastised groan. It rumbled through your cunt, and the echo shot to your clit, making you close your eyes and lean back, wet mouth spilling his name into your dorm.

Peter liked hearing you.

Liked seeing you lose your mind with his head between your thighs, your pussy wet and throbbing from his mouth and fingers. It’s why he came around often. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even text, would just knock on your door -- looking sheepish from under his dark curls -- and just. Not. Say. Anything.

His silence was answer enough. You knew what he wanted. Or, needed, as you later figured out, as you saw how red he’d gotten when you told him he couldn’t come around for a bit. When you said something about focusing on exams, he’d come over anyway, whined, shuffled his feet and said, You can do your work, I just gotta…I’ll be quick.

The lack of explanation made your mind swirl. But regardless, you’d let him in and did your work with his head between your thighs. He’d tutored you, too, told you how to solve for x with his fingers inside of you. He’d said, if you let me make you come again, I’ll do your Maths work for the next week. After he’d left, you stared at the scene of the crime in pure silence.

Just…reflecting.

Peter fluttered his tongue over your swollen clit. Focused on swirling it around his tongue in sloppy, wet circles, and the thick desire that swelled between your thighs began to pool at your lower back, forcing you to arch up into it.

“Please,” you wept, even though he was giving you what you wanted. Flat on your back with his deft grip keeping your bare thighs open. It was 8 pm. He’d caught you just after your shower, so the smell of your shampoo and body wash wafted through the air – Lavender and pear.

Peter had spread you open and said you smelled like spring. You’d been far too turned on to comment on it. He grumbled into your cunt, and you managed to work out the word, more? You hummed, too drunk on him and wound tight to verbalise that yes, you wanted more. Wanted him to make you come, and come again, till all you could do was mumble his name and focus on your breathing.

He'd learnt how you liked it. Paid attention, and he was getting full scores as he pushed his tongue flat against your swollen clit and sucked. Your vision went white.

“Oh fuck – ohfuck, Peter—” you squirmed, but Peter was strong, and he held you to the bed with his vice-like grip, wordlessly saying take it take it take it.

He lapped at you, salvia drooling over your cunt and down his chin, soaking the sheets. He was always so careless. In moments like this, that nervous edge that always fluttered around him was gone, replaced by a visceral drive to either please you, or get what he wanted.

The two bled into each other.

His tempo was leisurely, but that didn’t stop the heat from washing over you all at once.

You clamped your thighs around his ears and moaned -- loud, so loud that you were sure the other students on your floor heard.

Still, the ache was erratic, “So good,” you sobbed, and you heard yourself, heard the near primal need in your voice, and the desperation made you embarrassed, made you cover your mouth with your palm and grip the sheets, willing yourself to cool it. 

“Move your hand, or I’ll stop,” he uttered against you, and your clit was so sore that the echo of his words made your eyes roll back. Peter must have seen, as he hummed a laugh, and kissed your inner thigh, “lemme hear you.”

Managing to gain some sense of sanity, you blearily blinked down at him, but all sense of stability you thought you had was wiped away when you saw Peter had his hand stuffed down his pants.

You dropped back onto the bed and sobbed.

You knew he got off on this, but Jesus Christ, you’d never seen that before.

“Gotta be kidding me,” you breathed, and Peter must have understood what you were referencing, as he buried his reddening face into your inner thigh. He let out a breathy chuckle, “’ M’sorry,” he mumbled, “usually I wait till I get home, but you’re just so hot.”

You had to stay completely still, or you’d burst. Usually, I wait till I get home?

Peter moved his face and began nuzzling the wet folds of your pussy. He bumped his nose against your clit, and you quietly choked.

Peter hummed, “couldn’t help myself.”

You figured he did something like that, but the admission made your thighs tense. You pictured him stumbling home – cheeks still wet with you – and tugging his pants down, quickly shoving his hands into his boxers and taking hold of his aching cock. Did he whimper when he came? Or was he silent, all tremors and low grunts? No. He definitely whimpered.

He was far too pretty to stay quiet.

The sudden desire to kiss him swept over you.

Reaching down, you tugged at his curls, wordlessly motioning him to move. When he did, you briefly saw the red of his cheeks and wet of his nose before you kissed him, all tongue, and tasted yourself on his pink lips.

Peter melted into you. Huffed your name like a sigh, and the sheer tenderness of it had you wrapping your legs around his back and pressing your bare cunt against his jeans.

He was rock-hard. Tentatively, you ran your nails over his chest, and dipped low, pressing between his thighs, cupping his bulge, and gently squeezing. Peter wept.

“Oh fuck,” he sobbed, as desperate as you imagined. With one hand in his hair and the other on his cock, you continued to kiss him, until the ache between your thighs became too much to bear.

“Make me come,” you whispered, “and I’ll put you in my mouth.”

Peter had never moved so fast in his life.

[webslingingslasher]

Hi can I ask for a blurb where Peter accidently hits the reader while playing or something like he sometimes forgets about his super strength but fluff at the end please 🥺.

this got away from me but this was so fun and cute to write!

“I kinda want a black eye.” 

Your boyfriend slowly lowered the bag of peas on his left eye, his elbow dropped daringly, forcing you to look at the dark purple hue. 

“Oh, really?” 

You nod, “it looks gnarly but it’d be cool to have one.” 

“Baby, my heartbeat is currently taking place from my eyeball. You don’t want one.” 

Stretching across the space on the couch you raise Peter’s hand back up so he can ice the bruise some more, it does look painful. 

“I think if you loved me you’d give me one.” 

Peter took a second to see if that sentence would resonate with you but it hadn’t. 

“We should go to the women's shelter and spread that knowledge.” 

You scoff, “they weren't asking for it, Peter. I am.” 

Your boyfriend lowered his temporary ice pack and reached a hand out, his thumb rubbed under your eye, you almost thought he was thinking about it. Almost. 

“I’d never. I would, however, patch you up if you ever got one.” 

“Do you have a friend that could-” 

“No.” 

—------------------------------------

Oh FUCK did your eye HURT. 

It was on a level ten throb level, it felt like a ring stretching to your eyebrow and nose. You couldn’t even open it, all you could do was press your hand to it and try and stop the pressure from building, it didn’t work. 

You were able to blink it open just enough to be blinded by the living room light, you’ve never been so light sensitive. Squeezing it shut you winced, you tried to be understanding and calm; it was an accident after all. But the pain was spreading all over your face and you had a target right on the corner of your right eye, and it hurt. 

If your right eye could open it’d be shedding tears too, you had one continuance stream coming from your left eye. 

Your voice bubbles with pain, “petey, it hurts.” 

Your boyfriend couldn’t even breathe right now, he had hurt you. The one thing he swore he would never, could never do, and he did it. Panic flooded his body, panicked he’s caused serious damage, panicked you’d be scared of him, panicked you’d dump him, panicked your dad would come curbstomp him. 

“It hurts so bad,” he knows you’re calling out for him, he knows you need him, but all he could replay was the ‘whack!’ in his head. It wasn’t gentle in the slightest, you whipped away from him with a hiss, your hand immediately covering your eye. You had been okay at first but after a minute had passed it became nearly unbearable.

Peter knows how bad a black eye hurts, and he just gave you one. 

His short, barely there breaths start to stutter.  

And suddenly Peter couldn’t see because his vision was muddled by tears, he tried to blink them back but they ran. He can’t remember the last time he’s cried, but this brought him to his knees. He never wanted to punish himself more than in that second. He should’ve been quicker, he should’ve known you were behind him, he has those goddamn senses and they did nothing in that moment. 

“Peter!” A desperate cry for attention, you don’t know what to do, it hurts more than you could imagine. 

You look up at your boyfriend still standing in shock where he jumped away from you after hitting you directly in your eye. A wrestling battle, you had tried to take him down after he’d pinned you three times. In an effort of a sneak attack you crawled up the couch and tried to jump on his back where he sat on the floor. You dived and at the last moment his hand… well you don’t know what he was trying to do but it connected hard to your cheekbone. 

Your back hit the couch and you held your hand as you hissed and groaned in hurt, Peter scrambled up and backed up behind the coffee table, as if he was scared to be around you.  

He’s crying, your boyfriend’s crying. You’ve been punched and he’s crying. 

“I’m.. I’m sorr.. Fuck.” Peter snaps out of it, you need him. He crosses to the couch in two steps, his hand cupping your cheek. It makes everything in him deflate when you flinch as he touches you, he bites his bottom lip to stop a sob. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” 

His heart hurts as you cry, his thumb taps at your hand covering the damaged eye. The one he caused. 

“Let me see it, please?” Peter said it like a question, like he’d ever be lucky enough to have that privilege. 

You sob, “it hurts.” 

Peter blinks, more tears. He can’t believe he’s crying over this, he also can’t believe he hit his fucking girlfriend. 

“I know, I know it does, baby. Please let me see it.” 

You choke in air to stop your crying, it works. You slowly lift your hand off your eye, it’s not throbbing as much but the pressure has inflated tenfold and you couldn’t open it if you tried, it was swollen shut. You tried to gauge a reaction out of him, to see how bad it is. You forgot your boyfriend had the world’s best poker face. 

Peter wanted to curl up into a ball when he saw the damage. 

It was bruising, and swollen and you couldn’t open your eye and it was all his fault. 

His fault, his fault, his fault. 

If he was normal, if he was a normal boyfriend, this wouldn’t have happened. A normal teenager doesn’t have the strength to hold a ferry or stop a runaway bus, he does. And he used that strength on you. 

His powers, his abilities, his strength.

His fault, his fault, his fault. 

“You need ice.” Is all that could come out. A wince wraps over your face when you nod, you try to sit up and groan. “Everything hurts. How do you do this? Pain has to affect you differently, right?” Peter ignored you as he backed away, you don’t think he’s ever been so aware of his surroundings and actions. 

He shouldn’t be getting ice, he shouldn’t be putting it in a plastic bag and wrapping a rag around it, he shouldn’t be grabbing you tylenol extra strength, he shouldn’t be icing your black eye he caused. 

His fault, his fault, his fault. 

It scared you how quiet he was, the accidental punch was just that. You weren’t upset at him or scared he would do it again, you were scared how odd he was acting. He was strangely quiet and standoffish, when he came back to you with ice and pills you watched him think about holding the bag to your eye but stopped and put it in your hand. 

He shifted his weight and looked at the couch, he stepped back and sat on the coffee table. 

Peter cried and was quiet and standoffish and scared to touch you. He was terrified of himself, you may be physically hurt but he was emotionally broken, his one major thing washed down the drain. Accident or not he gave you a black eye, and it was tearing him up inside. 

You hummed when ice hit the hot skin, suddenly it didn’t hurt. 

“Am I right, super high pain tolerance?” 

It’s like you broke through a wall, Peter looked up at you like he just found out you were in the room. 

“I hit you.” 

You would’ve rolled your eyes if you could’ve. 

“That’s a little dramatic.” 

Peter shook his head, upset you weren’t upset. 

“I hit you hard, I hurt you. I…” His hand pulled at his curls so hard you grit your teeth. “I fucking hit you,” he whispered it, like his own mind couldn’t wrap it around. 

He doesn’t pull out the fuck word often. 

You thought about reaching out for his hand, but you think that’d made things worse. 

“I’m not scared of you, petey. It was an accident.” 

“I swore i’d never hurt you, that I would never hit you and I didn’t-” 

“Mean it.” You cut him off, “you didn’t mean it.” 

Peter rubbed at his jaw and blinked, you saw tears puddling and you wanted to do nothing more than hold him. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, you lowered the bag of ice from your eye prepared to switch seats. He wouldn’t let you. 

“Ice.” Cold and hard, like you had no other option. You didn’t question him, you followed instructions. 

“Remember when you asked me to give you a black eye months ago?” 

It was a joke. Sure, you saw a tiktok with a girl who had one and you couldn’t deny it looked a little cool. Then seeing one on Peter the same night you couldn’t shake it. You were just playing around, it’s not like it was that serious. 

“I was joki-” 

“I told you I'd never, and I did. I hit my girlfriend and gave her a black eye.” 

Disgust. That’s what it was. He was disgusted with himself. 

You sat up straight, your lip curled up. 

A black eye? Sick.

“Wait, really?” 

Peter looked up at your excitement, it came from nowhere. 

“You gave me a black eye? I have a black eye right now? For real, for real?” 

This wasn’t a cute or funny thing, and he won’t let you make it be one. 

He hit you.

“This isn’t funny, I hit you and you’re happy you got a black eye?” 

“Pete, I forgive you. And not just cause you gave me a black eye, because it was an accident and you didn’t mean to and you’re obviously extremely remorseful.” 

“But I-” 

You reached out for his hand, “forgive yourself. You forgive yourself.” 

It wouldn’t be instant, until your eye healed, which would be at a much slower rate than him, he wouldn’t be able to fully forgive himself. 

“No more wrestling.” 

You scoff, “no more sneak attacks, how about that?” 

He shook his head, “I don’t want this happening again.” 

“If the situation was reversed would you want me to hold it against myself?” 

Peter scoffed, “absolutely not, but it wouldn’t hurt me like it does you.” 

“So you do have a super high pain tolerance.” 

He snapped and ripped his hand from yours, “yes, I do have a super high pain tolerance. I also have super strength and give my girlfriend black eyes.” 

You held your hand up, the other one slightly freezing from the cold but you were too scared to take it off. 

“First off, plural. Second, please stop. You’re making me feel bad, I’m really okay and I’m not mad and I forgive you a thousand million percent.” 

Peter inhaled sharply, he has to believe you. He’s more shook up than you are and he guesses he should agree with you, you were the hurt one. If you forgive him he could try and do the same.

“I think you need to give me a black eye to even it out.” 

You gasp like your offended at his words, your hand lays over your heart. 

“I’d never!” 

Your boyfriend ran his tongue over his teeth and gave you a dead stare, his hands pushed him off the coffee table. His words grumbled, “toxic.” 

[parkerpeter24]

HIII i am begging can you write a Peter Parker x reader one shot where peter and reader are married and have a toddler and maybe the avengers team find out PLISSSS ANS TYYYY 🫶🫶🫶

baby 🥺

pairing ➳ peter parker x reader

requests are open (but i barely write stuff)

masterlist

“what is he doing on the ceiling?!” kate yelled as soon as you entered the lobby, searching for your little toddler ben. you rubbed your eyes as you approached a very baffled kate, “your child is on the ceiling! how are you so calm?!”

“it’s 7 in the morning.” you winced as you looked at ben, him giving you an excited look and extended his arm towards you, making you do the same, “come on, benny, come to mama.”

and he did so as, un-sticking himself from the wall as he perfectly landed in your arms.

your two year old was way better at this than peter when he had started out as spider-man. his hand kept getting stuck to different places and after a bunch of ripped t-shirts and a couple of haircuts, you bought him rubber gloves. however, that didn’t work either.

as your little boy nestled against your chest, you looked over to kate who still had surprise written all over her face, “he’s spider-man’s child.” you explained simply.

“but- what if he fell down?”

“oh, he wouldn’t. he’s way too smart for that, aren’t you, benny?” you booped his nose and he gave you a grin.

“yes, mommy.”

you and peter had kept your relationship secret for a couple of years, at least from peter’s superhero gang. so it didn’t come off as a surprise when the avengers found out that you two had a one year old. they were very disappointed in you two for not telling this big a thing but the second they saw ben’s cute little face and his smile, you were forgiven and everyone was happy.

when you agreed to move into the avenger’s tower, tony was more than excited. he added a bunch of toys to the huge playroom that was originally built for morgan.

you were surprised to see that thor was the most attached to your baby. he spent time with him and thursdays were reserved to thor and ben taking a tour of the city. you trusted thor, however you had only allowed this after ben turned two, which was only a few weeks ago.

whenever natasha was around, she would tell ben all kinds of stories about how she kicked bad people’s butts so that little kids could sleep peacefully at night and ben would adore those “tales” even though they were real.

“next time you find him on a ceiling, just show him a cookie, he’ll come right down.” you told kate as you patted ben’s back, gently lulling him back to sleep.

“if you say so.” kate replied, chuckling as she watched you for a minute, “you should get some more sleep too, you look tired.”

“he refused to sleep last night because tony let him have extra ice-cream.” you rolled your eyes.

you noticed ben had fallen asleep, already drooling over the material of your t-shirt as you carried him back to his crib, placing him securely under his blanket before you made your way to your own bed. your husband, peter was still fast asleep. you laid down on the bed, peter already pulling you closer as if it was a reflex. you felt his arm relax against you, his head resting close to your shoulder and soon you felt the soft caress of sleep take over.

the bedside clock showed 10:34 as time when your eyes opened again. the room was empty, peter and ben both gone. you quickly freshened up before making your way out of the room and into the main gathering area once again.

only this time you were greeted with everyone sitting around and laughing as steve held his shield on his lap with ben sitting on top of it.

“hey, babe.” peter was the first one they greeted you as he placed a kiss on your cheek and dragged you in the middle of whatever was happening.

“uh, what’s happening?” you asked, looking around.

“your child is stuck to cap’s shield.” tony said, an almost proud smile spread over his face to which steve gave him a glare.

“guess who inspired it.” natasha rolled her eyes at her two friends, however a small smile remained on her face at the little banter going on.

just then kate ran into the room, holding a cookie in her hand as she handed it to steve, “got it!”

“come on, kid.” steve said, waving around the cookie in the air in front of him. ben’s eyes lit up and steve smiled, “it’s yours if you leave the shield.”

however, cap’s efforts failed as ben reached out one hand to grab the sweet but didn’t move a bit to release his shield.

“i bribed him good.” tony shrugged as he sipped on his black coffee.

you watched the whole scene unfold, amused to say the least. you noticed peter snickering as he stood beside you. you smacked his chest lightly, “you think this is funny? go get your child.”

“and forget the spider-bike mr stark promised me? never.”

[madwcman]

tasm! Peter kissing reader any chance he gets?

a/n: thank you for requesting <3

pairing: tasm! peter x reader

peter silently wraps his arms around you and rest his head between the crook of your neck, giving your neck a small peck. peter always wants to kiss you, every chance he gets he takes it.

“what was that kiss for?” you giggle, as your boyfriend grip on you tightens, and he starts to sway you both.

“just wanted to kiss you.” he says softly, moving his head from your neck, his lips landing on the apple of your cheek.

“you always want to kiss me.” you move your head back to look at peter with a bright smile. “of course i do.” he turns you around so you could face and see him fully. you give peter a warm smile and wrap your arms around his neck. he moves in to give you more kisses, you deserve all the kisses in the world from him, in his opinion. if he could kiss you all day he would, so he kisses you any chance he can.

“peter!” you shout, laughing at the pampering he’s giving you, you think your boyfriend is overly sweet, and you love it. you love peter.

he stops and pulls from your face. he has a cheeky smile and pulls you in, hugging you tighter than before. “you’re too sweet peter.” you tell him fondly. your hands going up to peters hair, playing with it softly, he loves when you play with his hair. it makes him melt.

“i’m too sweet?”

“yes, you practically spoil me.” you giggle out, your heart is all warm and you feel a little silly when your with peter. “well a sweet girl like you should be spoiled.” and he moves in to kiss you all over again.

[alwaysmoncheri]

hello! I hope you’re doing good! I would like to request a fic with tasm!peter parker or james potter if you prefer, but something where they’re making out and the reader ends up breaking his glasses? If that makes sense🫣

hi, my darling, i’m am doing very well! thank you for requesting, that makes complete sense! I’m totally watching tasm again after writing this <3

cw: fem!reader, making out, slightly suggestive (but not really), aunt may walking in, established relationship, fluff, 1.2k

<3

Peter’s mouth is on your neck while the bridge of his glasses rubs against the skin just an inch higher than his mouth. His hands stay firmly planted on your hips as you sit in his lap on his swivel chair. Your textbook and computer lay abandoned next to his on his desk in front of you.

“Peter, I have to study,” you mumble, but the sigh that escapes your lips makes your excuse less believable, “We have to study.” you add, trying you best to get yourself and peter back on track for a big exam tomorrow. Crazy for Peter or not, this test is important and you need to get a little studying in, but you can’t get Peter to keep his hands off you.

“No, we don’t.” Peter replies quickly, before biting your neck, causing you to let out squeak.

“Peter,” you practically whine, and the chuckle that falls from Peter’s mouth vibrates onto your neck, causing you to squirm in his lap. When Peter lifts his head from your neck, you’re pouting. Lips jutted out and eyebrows pinched together with pleading eyes. Oh, Peter could die right here with you in his arms. He pulls you closer, biceps and hands pressed into your sides and forearms into your stomach.

“You’re going to be fine,” Peter offers gently, pressing a much softer kiss to your cheek, allowing you to release the tension from your face, “You’ve studied plenty already.”

“But–”

“No, buts,” Peter shuts you down, gently rubbing your sides in an attempt to silence your worries. He wants to kiss you so bad, but he would never do it without your permission. And if you want to study, he’ll let you, but he doesn’t think you really do, “Kiss me?”

Peter hears you release a long, dramatic, sigh before shifting yourself in his lap so that you’re straddling him, his hands now stabilizing you by your waist. For a moment your face is expressionless and Peter can’t read you. He worries that you’re unhappy with him but when he sees a giddy smile creep onto your face, he instantly reciprocates and his worries melt away.

You lock your hands around Peter’s neck before leaning in to kiss him. At first, you kiss him softly, tenderly just because you love him. But when you lightly tug on Peter’s hair at the nape of his neck, he takes it as a sign to tug on your hips, pulling you flush against his chest and deepen the kiss. But when the bridge of you nose knocks into Peter’s glasses, you groan in momentary pain, causing his eyes to widen, hand reaching up to gently hold your cheek, the action asking if you’re okay. When you nod your head and meet his gaze, you notice his concern before it’s quickly replaced with frustration. Peter quickly tears his glasses on his face and tosses them towards his bed without sparing a glance in that direction. But when a soft crack echos from across the room, you snap your gaze towards the glasses that now lay broken at the bridge on the floor.

“Peter!” You gasp, shifting your gaze between him and the broken glasses, but no concern seems to be etched on his face.

“Don’t worry, I can get new ones,” Peter assures you, kissing the corners of your lips while his nose delicately brushes the apples of your cheeks, “I just wanna kiss you.” Peter whispers and you feel a rush of warmth spread across your face at his tone.

“Aunt May isn’t going to be happy.” You state, nervously glancing towards the door that Peter probably forgot to lock again.

“Shush, less talking, baby,” Oh god, you melt completely at the way his says baby and presses his finger to your mouth, before replacing it with his lips, “More kissing.” He adds in between a few quick, hard, presses of his lips on yours.

“Oh whatev—hmph!”

Peter kisses you long and hard, successfully getting you to stop talking. You feel hot all over when he kisses you again and again. And when you rank your fingers through his hair, lightly tugging on the ends, while simultaneously gently biting his bottom lip, Peter makes a sound between a gasp and a groan that makes you want to do it again just so you can hear the sound once more. There’s a kiss, another, and another, you’re so caught up in the feeling of his mouth against yours, carefully sliding your hands up and down his chest before lightly gripping a fist full of his shirt to keep him near you.

The way Peter touches you is like muscle memory, he knows how to make you gasp and what makes you shiver. When, his hands slip under the material of your shirt and caress your skin, your body reacts exactly how he knows it always does. Then, he lifts you up, your legs wrap around his waist, and with his lips still on yours, he gently lowers the both of you onto his bed. He seems so far away now and you can’t handle it. Before he even has the chance to lower himself further down onto the bed, you grab his biceps, which are tensed from holding himself up, and tug him towards you. Peter practically falls and suddenly the weight of his whole body is on top of you, Peter worries for a moment, breaking the kiss, but you make a noise, reminiscent to a childish whine before grabbing his jaw with both of you hands and pulling him back. With his lips on yours, his tongue slides into your mouth while your thumbs trace the outline of his jaw and his hand slides behind you back and into your shirt.

“Hey, do you two know where—Oh my goodness!” You and Peter are quickly pulled apart, turning your heads in the direction of Aunt May’s loud gasp. She stands just outside the bedroom with one hand still on the doorknob, her expression loudly displaying her shock. Peter stays on top of you for a split second, before May’s gaze shifts between his hand in your shirt and both of your disheveled appearances, “Peter Benjamin Parker!”

With that, Peter immediately jumps up from on top of you, quickly grabbing your hand to stand next to him. Both of your faces are flushed red from being caught, even if all you were doing was kissing. Aunt May stands by the door, both of her hands placed firmly on her hips, presumably awaiting a reasonable response while you and Peter glance at each other in search of something to say. When Peter’s gaze returns to his aunt, he finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Aunt May—We were just—” Peter pauses as he stumbles over his words, feeling pathetic under the eyes of both you and his aunt.

“Studying.” You finish with a somewhat convincing smile and when Aunt May turns to you, her gaze softens, but when she notices the broken glasses laying forgotten on the floor behind you, her questioning expression returns.

“And what happened to your glasses?” Aunt May asks, a triumphant smile crossing her face as she knows she’s caught the two of you red-handed in your obvious lie, “Were you studying when that happened?”

You and Peter hesitate, he sends you a nervous smile and the both of you bite your tongues, not trusting yourselves to speak. After a moment, the two of you nod, heads hanging low.

“Mhm, right,” May hums before sending Peter a look that says, ‘we’ll talk later.’ Then, she takes a few steps into the room, causing you and Peter’s eyes to widen, but May only steps around you to pick up the broken glasses before walking back towards the door, “Well, dinner is almost ready, you two better behave.”

“Okay, yeah, thank you, May.” Peter says, and you can tell he’s beyond flustered by the situation as he runs a hand through his hair, then brushes a finger along his bottom lip, “We’ll be down soon.”

May nods before sending the both of you one final look, this one a little more playful than the rest. She exits the bedroom and closes the door behind her, leaving you and Peter alone once again.

The both of you share a glance before breaking out in a fit of laughter. Peter falls back onto the bed, tugging you down with his so that you’re laying on his chest.

“I told you she’d be mad.” You tease, running your hand up his chest, eventually reaching the back of his neck, while leaving a gentle kiss on his jaw.

“It was so worth it.” Peter smirks before flipping you over and kissing your face

<3

masterlist . tasm!peter parker masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

tags: @googie-jeon, @Kevia1000, @annoyingmidgetwhowrites, @averyhotchner, @marauderswhxre, @vixparker

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[imagines--galore]

||A Nonverbal Confession||

Summary: Your boyfriend assumes you are fast asleep as he slides into bed next to you. He ends up confessing what he thinks is a secret. Little does he know, you’re awake, and more then aware of what he just said. Or didn’t say.

Pairing: TASM! Peter Parker x Reader

Rating || Genres || Warnings: K+ Romance. None I guess.

A/N: Well you guys voted and this is what I wrote! Hope you enjoy it!

You had promised to wait up for him. It was something you always did before he went out on patrol. It was more for your peace of mind. You honestly couldn’t sleep unless you knew he was back, sleeping beside you, safe and sound. That night though, he had run a little late, and you had greeted him bleary eyed and a sleepy smile on your lips. Peter had told you to go to sleep on numerous occasions, to which you had refused.

You knew of his identity as Spiderman before you had started to date. It was a complete accident. You had been preparing to go to sleep in the apartment right next to Peter’s when he had accidentally stumbled into your place and yanked his mask off. And since he was a little banged up from a recent run-in with law-breakers, you had decided to help him as much as you could to clean up. And even helped him get clothes from his apartment so he wouldn’t have to wander the halls in his ripped up spider-suit.

That was a long time ago, and you were now living with him. The ritual of your staying awake till he came back started very early on, and you had carried it into your dating life as well.

“Running a little late there Parker, I was starting to get worried.” You stated with a huge yawn, slowly walking past him. As you went, you reached up to playfully pet his cheek. Peter gave you a pout, having been hoping for a kiss. “Well keeping New York safe is never an easy job.” He stated, following after you, dropping the mask, which he had removed as soon as he stepped into the apartment. “I suppose so.” You mused, dropping onto your shared bed and snuggling into the softness of the mattress and many many pillows you kept on your side. Peter made to lie down next to you, but you held him back by holding out your leg and playfully pressing your foot against his stomach.

“No way am I letting you get into this bed with the entire city on you Spider-boy.” You stated firmly. “I changed the sheets yesterday.” Peter grumbled under his breath, playfully grabbing your ankle and giving it a tug. You shrieked as you nearly slipped from the bed, throwing your boyfriend a glare as he quickly disappeared into the adjoining bathroom. He only just managed to close the door to avoid getting a magazine thrown in his face by his sleep-deprived girlfriend.

“Bully!” He heard you through the door. Chuckling softly to himself, Peter quickly stepped out of his suit and into the shower. He made quick work of washing himself, wanting to get into bed. It hadn’t been a tough patrol, but he was tired, and he had to get to work in the morning. But mostly, he wanted to catch a few snuggles with you before you fell asleep. And once you were asleep, even the devil couldn’t wake you. Well he could, but he would wish he hadn’t. You were very particular when it came to your beauty sleep.

Pulling on a pair of pajama bottoms, after quickly drying his body, Peter stepped out of the bathroom. Only to freeze at the threshold because of the sight that greeted him.

You were asleep, that much was clear to see from the steady rise and fall of your chest. What he hadn’t expected was for you to be snuggled against his pillow, nose almost buried in the fabric. As if you had fallen asleep while.....a sweet blush stole across his cheeks. Well he shouldn’t complain. He was always burying his nose in your neck and inhaling your scent. What was to stop you from doing the same.

Despite his protest of you always staying awake when he went on patrol, Peter couldn’t help but adore you for it. It just warmed his heart, to know that you cared about him so much, that you worried about him and his safety. Sighing to himself, Peter climbed into bed just behind you. It wasn’t his normal sleeping place, but once the scent of your shampoo slowly registered in his mind, he wasn’t about to complain.

Your shirt, or rather his shirt, had ridden up while you had been adjusting to find a comfortable position. His warm gaze drifted from the back of your head to the exposed skin. Slowly, he reached out, splaying his hand across the soft skin of your back. His hand was warm, so you barely even felt anything as you continued to slumber. First his fingers began to stroke along your skin, but when you gave a little shiver and seemed to curl into yourself, he opted to trace non-nonsensical patterns against your skin.

Slowly the patterns began to take shape in the form of words. He traced your name, over and over, before moving to tracing whatever pet-name he had called you since you had begun dating. Since you remained asleep, and he ran out of nicknames, he started to spell words he associated with you. Any positive adjective that rose within his mind, he traced every single one.

And once he finally ran out of those, and his brain began to drift off into slumber-land, Peter Parker poured his very heart and soul into tracing those three words into your skin, hoping those words would be somehow branded into your heart and mind. That you would know just how much he adored you.

What he didn’t know, was that you had only dozed off, and when you felt his hand against your back, you had stilled, wanting to see what he would do. It had taken a little while, but you had managed to comprehend what he was tracing against your skin. A sleepy smile pulled at your lips as he continued his little game, your heart swelling with more and more adoration for your boyfriend. It was when he traced those three words into your skin that your eyes snapped open and you went completely still. He didn’t notice, having pulled back to get to sleep himself. But you wouldn’t let him sleep without saying what you knew he deserved to hear. 

Seemingly satisfied, Peter gave a small sigh, reluctantly pulling his hand away from your skin, and pulling the blankets up to cover you. He shifted into a more comfortable position, but his movements seemed to have stirred you awake. You shifted, slowly turning over. Despite your eyes being closed, your body seemed to gravitate towards him. Peter gladly helped you adjust against his chest, wrapping an arm around your middle as you finally settled against him.

“I love you too, Peter.”

He had been about to fall asleep, his eyes had closed almost completely when he felt you speak those words to him, your breath warm against his bare chest. Peter made a move as if he were about to speak, but a quick press of warm lips against his skin had him stilling. “Go to sleep Spider-boy, we’ll talk in the morning.” If it were possible, you snuggled deeper against him, slowly drifting back asleep.

Peter gave a soft laugh, his lips dropping a sweet kiss to the top of your head before his eyes closed, and he fell asleep as well.

[lovelettersforthedamned]

Pleading Through The Bathroom Door

--genre + trope: hurt/comfort, college!au, angst, slight fluff.

--pairing: college!tasm!peter parker x college!f!reader

--word count: 1.9k

--summary: after ignoring Peter's suggestion not to go out tonight, you run into a situation that makes you wish you heard him out.

--warnings: alcohol, language, throwing up, violence, creepy drunk guy, descriptions of a minor injury, reader wears makeup, angst, a little bit of fluff at the end, peter just wants to help:((.

--gif credits: @marlosrph

As you make your way back home through the brisk air of New York City in the fall, you pray to whoever was up there that Peter won’t be home when you get there. You loved him so much, but the thought of him seeing you in this ruffled state made you want to turn around and head back to the dinghy club you came from. Even though that was the last place you wanted to be, coming face-to-face with your boyfriend seemed worse. 

He begged you not to go out tonight, and you ignored him. One of your friends, Mariah, was having a hard time with her now ex-boyfriend, and what kind of friend would you be if you didn’t help her take her mind off of things? 

The night started well, after a few tears shed by your friend, she was ready to party. It was her night to call the shots, you were just the moral support in the background. Because it was just the two of you, she never left your sight, especially in the state she was in. Her body was moving so carelessly. With her messy dancing and a drink in her hand, the last thing on her mind was the shitty breakup she endured. You were happy for her, for letting go and enjoying herself. 

As the night progressed, her body language was clearly betraying her words. She told you over and over again that she was fine, and that she swore she was okay. Just a few moments after those slurring sentences, she was pushing her way through the crowd to hunch over and empty her stomach into the nearest trash can. Making your way next to her, you bunch her hair into a ponytail and rub her back as she continues to hurl. She turns her face to look at you, tears spilling out of her eyes, “I’m so sor-sorry, (Y/N).”

“Hey babe,” slowly lifting her back up, “It’s okay, it happens to the best of us. C’mon, let’s go home.” 

Her apartment was not even three blocks away, so you decided to walk there. She seemed to have sobered up quite a bit after she threw up, and the water from the corner market you stopped by helped as well. The walk home was uneventful, you two were mostly silent but picked up conversation when you were getting closer to her apartment. As you make it to the front steps, you watch her walk in and close the door behind her. A sigh of relief leaves your mouth, knowing that she made it home safe was enough to lift a slight weight off your shoulders.

That moment of peace is quickly stolen from you when you realize you have to get yourself home safe too. It’s only a few blocks away, so it should be fine. Moving your feet towards the direction of your apartment, you suddenly feel a presence behind you. Picking up the pace and turning a corner, you realize that there is someone behind you. A taller man, definitely bigger than you, makes direct eye contact with you as you look over your shoulder, an ugly grin rising to his face. Your entire body went rigid as you picked up the pace. Reaching a hand towards your purse, you pull out your phone, hoping to call Peter. What you’re met with is a black screen, it’s completely dead. Placing your phone back into your purse, you start to make unnecessary turns, hoping that the man tailing behind you was just some sick coincidence, you hoped that he was just headed home as well. 

The footsteps behind you become louder, and before you can comprehend the distance between you and him, a calloused hand grabs your arm and pulls you to the ground. Stalking his way towards you, you quickly get back on your feet and walk backward as quickly as you can. “C’mon sugar,” his words slurring, “come with me back to my place…you’ll have a good time, I promise.” He’s evidently wasted, so wasted to the point where he’s swaying where he stands. He reaches out to you again, trying to grab you by the arm again to drag you to God knows where. This was all you needed for you to reach for the pepper spray Peter got you a few months ago. At the moment, it seemed silly. Your boyfriend, Spider-Man, was giving you an obnoxious-colored can of pepper spray to defend yourself. Now standing in front of a drunken idiot about to lunge at you, it didn’t seem silly anymore. 

He was more than close enough for you to spray the liquid at him, and as soon as you did, he hunched over, doubling in pain as he shouted profanities towards you. You took this as your opportunity to run as fast as you could, and you did. The overwhelming fear of being handled again coursing through your veins remained as a motivation to keep moving.

 You’re still a little drunk as the feeling of paranoia heightens every time you look back behind you. One more glance over your shoulder was all it took when a piece of uneven pavement caught your toe, and you came face to face with the concrete once again. There’s a burning pain on the palms of your hands, along with a pulsing feeling spreading its way from the open wound on your knee. 

Trying to recollect how you got into this situation in the first place plagues your mind and keeps you occupied until you’re met with the front door of your apartment. As you make your way up the stairs, the possibility of Peter being home ignites a wave of anxiety through your bones. There’s a slight hesitation when you come face to face with your front door, you take a deep breath in before you grab your keys and unlock the door. 

Peering in, there are no signs of Peter, a breath of relief and a wave of sadness overcome you. A part of you wishes he was here to help you, his mere presence was always enough to make the worries of the day leave your system. 

Turning on the harsh light of the bathroom, your eyes strain at the sudden burst of cool light. You try not to make eye contact with yourself in the mirror as you reach down for the medical supplies box under the sink. After you have placed everything on the small bathroom counter, you set yourself down on the lid of the toilet. With shaky hands, you open the container and pick out some things you need to fix yourself. As you reach for the box, you notice a discoloration on your arm, roughly the same size as the man’s hand. 

As if right on cue, you hear the god-awful sound of the creaky window open, followed by a soft thud of Peter hopping down to the floor. “Fuck,” you curse to yourself as you run to the door and lock it quickly. 

Walking towards the kitchen, Peter can see the light in the bathroom is on, signifying that you made it home before him. “Hey baby, you’re back early,” he reaches for the handle to find that it’s locked. His brows furrowed in confusion.

You clear your throat, “Ye-yeah, Mariah wasn’t feeling too good, so we left early.” You shake your head in defeat, even after clearing your throat, your voice still shaking. 

Peter’s senses picked up on your unease and he reached for the handle for the second time, twisting it this time, “You alright, (Y/N)?”

A spark of panic, he knows something’s up. You ditch patching yourself up, messily putting the supplies back into the box. There’s no grace while you put everything away, you just need to clean up as fast as possible. While reaching for the gauze, you knock over the bottle of rubbing alcohol, “Shit, no I-I’m good. I’ll be out in a second!”

After hearing more clatter, Peter starts to worry, “Bug? Open the door.”

You’re overwhelmed, understandably, after everything that happened tonight along with the pressure to come outside, you break down in tears. “Peter, I swear I’m fine,” a broken sob escaping your shaking form, “I got it.”

“Please open the door, baby,” he pleads, in the softest voice imaginable. 

Finally giving in, you unlock the door and pull it open. The first thing Peter sees is the state you’re in. You’re hunched over on the floor on all fours, trying to clean up the mess you made. The makeup he watched you apply, is now smeared across your face as fat tears run down your cheeks. The second thing he notices is the bruise forming on your arm, a silent worry lost in his throat. He very slowly makes his way to you, not wanting to panic you any further, and gently lifts you from the floor, grabbing the supplies as well. Guiding you to sit on the bed, he places himself crouched in front of you, still in his suit. Not saying a word. 

Your breath is labored, and your shoulders are slumped. Not daring to make eye contact with him. Taking a look at your knees first, he grabs a cloth to start cleaning the angry raw skin. What scares you the most is that Peter is not speaking. Breaking the silence, you mumble, “I’m sorry.” 

Peter’s head snaps up to look at your face, still looking down at your hands, “Hey…What are you apologizing for?”

“You told me not to go out,” you take a wavering inhale, “and then I ignored you. Then this happened!” Your voice raises, and you’re getting upset with yourself. 

“I don’t know what happened, and you don’t have to tell me right now, but whatever happened tonight was not your fault. I only told you not to go because it’s way too cold outside to go out, bug. And never ever am I going to play the ‘I told you so game’ with you.”

You didn’t know what else to say, or even if you were able to say anything. What you knew was that you needed to be around Peter. Before another second passes, you lunge into Peter’s arms, wrapping your own around his neck. The sheer force of your hug would have sent both of you to the ground, but Peter balanced himself before you ever touched the ground. 

You both stay there for a while, eventually, Peter’s hand reaches up to rub up and down on your back, calming you into a relaxed state. “Can we go shower,” you ask, “I have that gross club smell on me.”

A relieved laugh leaves Peter, “Of course we can, smelly.”

You playfully hit his shoulder, as he lifts the both of you off the ground. As you make your way to the same bathroom you were crying in just a few minutes prior, you know that everything’s going to be alright, as long as Peter is by your side.  

You fell asleep that night to the warm comforter surrounding your figure, along with Peter’s heartbeat fluttering in your ears. The thoughts surrounding tonight could wait, at least until morning. 

--author's note: hi guys!! needed a little hurt/comfort because the weather is getting chilly, and it's getting darker outside:I...im currently working on the asks you guys have been sending me, and they're smutty as hell. you guys are horny asf, DAMN. don't forget to support your writers by liking, commenting, and reblogging!! my asks/inobx is open, so send me anything!!! ok, bye ily<33.

[thursdaygxrls]

thin ice — two

part one | part two | part three

summary — peter invites her to his hockey game, and shocker, she shows up.

pairing — uni hockey player!peter parker x fem!journalist!reader

disclaimer — i do not own peter parker/marvel. marvel pls don’t sue me for making peter sexier 🙏

warnings — reader is referred to as ‘kitty’ (there’s a reason, i promise), slight one sided enemies to lovers, possible maybe slightly ooc, and very unedited

Stark Memorial Rink was a lot more crowded than she remembered. To be fair, when she was there two days ago, it was during a closed practice. Now it was loud, crowded, and filled with the blaring noise of the patrons and loudspeakers.

“What are our seats again?” MJ asked, hanging off her arm with a big, goofy smile. She was dressed in an Empire State University sweatshirt—‘I have to show my school pride’, she said. Sure, that was the reason.

“Section one hundred ten, Row C, seats four and five,” she replied, her voice near robotic.

“Y’know, you can at least pretend to be excited,” MJ teased. “I’ll buy you a soft pretzel if you act like you’re having fun.”

“Woo-hoo. Yippee. Hooray,” she said monotonously, a small grin curling on her lips.

“Come on,” a whine leaves MJ’s lips, “This is cool! It’s not just any game, this is the tournament—like, national. If they win this, they’ll make it down to eight teams. Eight teams!”

“And your sudden love of hockey spawned on its own, right?” She raised a brow at her friend’s words, “Not because of some sweaty guy who likes to ice skate?”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that,” MJ mumbled in reply, though her eyes softened a bit, a smile adorning her painted lips. They shuffled through the crowds of people with some struggle, but eventually made it to section one hundred ten.

When she was there days ago, she hadn’t quite paid attention to the format of the seats. The assumption, though, was that they flowed in alphabetical order, making Row Z the one closest to the plexiglass. They slipped towards the steps, ready to descend just a few stairs when they looked down. A big, yellow ‘Z’ was right under their feet. That meant–

“Oh, my God.” Her voice was more like a whisper than anything.

“You said Row C, right?” MJ asked, her eyes glued to the letter.

“Row C,” she confirmed, sucking her teeth. Was it even possible? Okay, sure, this was just a university game, but this game was a big deal. The place was insanely crowded. How could he just give away seats that close to the glass?

“Well, let’s go,” MJ interrupted her train of thought, tugging her arm to follow her. One, two, three, four…they descended lower and lower until the sound of ice scraping along the skates of those practicing was louder than the buzz of the crowd. Their seats gave them a perfect view right behind the net. Purple and black jerseys whizzed by in a flurry of sticks and pucks and ice shaving off the ground. They say for a minute, soaking up the reality of where they were before MJ let out a cough.

“So, Kitty, soft pretzel?” She glanced over with a smile.

“Yeah,” she agreed, already popping up from her seat. Shuffling back to the stairs, her gaze was pulled back to the rink where she caught a flash of a neon purple ‘13’ zipping by the glass. Hazel eyes settled upon her through the brackets of the helmet—but only for one second. One small ounce of time in which their eyes connected like laser beams. And then he was gone again, and so was she.

“I’ll get you a slushie, too, if you do a little cheering,” MJ’s voice pulled her back.

“Extra large?” She raised a brow in return.

“Whatever size you want,” MJ beamed.

By the time they were back to their seats, the game was almost starting. The National Anthem was sung by a local high school talent. The team introductions flew by (MJ, of course, screaming for Harry). When number thirteen, Peter Parker, Empire State Lightning Bolts Team Captain was introduced, the thunder of feet pounding on the floor rang through the stadium. He slid across the ice in an oddly graceful fashion. He was sort of gangly, and the bulk of the uniform provided a strange juxtaposition, but his movements were clean and precise, more like a figure skater than a hockey player.

“Look at that, number thirteen,” MJ giggled into her ear, receiving a smack on the arm for her laughter.

“I have eyes, I can see.” Was her grumbled response.

The game was intense. They were single-round eliminations, meaning that if ESU lost this, they were out of the tournament. Pennbrook, in their glossy green jerseys, were just as vicious. The net in front of them was the home side first, so they were able to see every goal that was blocked, and inevitably the ones that slipped through. What seemed to (begrudgingly) stand out the most, though, was Peter.

He was aggressive. At first, she thought it was just excitement, or anger, or some irrational emotion that sent him flying across the ice and ramming into people. But the face under the helmet was always calm. Cold, even. Every outburst was a precise calculation. Yes, he was combative, but it was never out of his control. Nothing was out of his control, not even when the puck went skidding across the ice on the other side. It took him seconds to cross the rink and swoop in for quick saves. Time seemed to flash by. The buzzer signaled the end of the first period, and the teams skated back to their respective sides.

“It’s not that bad, right?” MJ nudged her, sucking down the last of her blue raspberry slushie.

“I’m definitely viewing something,” she responded in a sarcastic tone. MJ groaned, nudging her as she collected their empty cups and discarded napkins.

“Keep up the good attitude,” she shot back, sticking out her tongue as she went to throw away the trash.

The second period was similar to the first: high tensions, high testosterone. By the third period, the score was 4-5 with Pennbrook taking the lead. It was, of course, only a momentary lead. A play by Harry and Miles tied them up again, and then a swift shot by Zack got them the lead. Pennbrook’s number ‘36’ had been on Peter’s ass nearly the entire game. He was always so close that half of the ice shavings on Peter’s ankles were probably from him. But it hadn’t been anything more than a chase until Peter brought the score up to 7-5.

The movement was quick, but not nearly as unnoticeable as he likely intended. While sliding behind the net, 36’s elbow came up to check Peter. He was probably aiming for his shoulder, but everything just came out wrong: Peter turned his head toward 36, 36’s elbow jabbed at an awkward angle, and the hit ended up slamming into Peter’s face.

Her breath caught in her throat. When he turned back to the plexiglass, blood was dripping down his chin. He’d been clipped just right so that his lip busted against the hard plastic of the mouthguard. Resounding ‘boos’ sounded through the stadium, but the sounds fell deaf on her ears as she watched Peter throw off his glove and swipe the blood from his skin. It was like she could see the gears turning in his head. Hit, blood, fight. He looked to 36, ready to raise his bloodstained fist. Then, for just a second, his eyes flitted to her.

He knew she was there. He knew she was watching. None of the hardness left his eyes, but there was something new there, too. Pride, maybe? Excitement? It lingered in his vision the entire time his eyes were on hers. When his bloodied lips curled into a smirk, she forced herself out of the breathless haze she was caught in. She was only concerned because that was the normal human reaction; you see someone get hurt, you worry. Or you laugh. It wasn’t like she was—

Peter’s fist connected with 36’s cheek. She could hear the hard smack through the glass to Row C. 36 stumbled back on his skates but regained his balance. Before he could deal a blow, refs blowing hopelessly on their whistles swarmed the two, pulling them like two growling dogs. Once again, Peter looked up at her, making sure that she was still watching. When he smiled at her, she could see that his teeth were now coated in blood from the wound on his lip.

“Holy shit!” MJ was squealing, but her voice was lost on the girl next to her.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “Yeah, holy shit.”

Neither Peter nor 36 were let back on the ice for the rest of the game. A penalty was dealt to ESU, but any other punishment was still unknown. She watched the rest of the game on high alert, trying to stop her eyes from traveling to the penalty box where Peter was seated. It was hard to view him from her position, but she could see a shock of brown hair every once and a while.

When the game was over, ESU had won 8-7. The crowd roared as the buzzer sounded, and when MJ shot up, she joined her. Adrenaline shot through her as she watched the guys on the rink scream and nearly slam into each other. Her view, though, quickly adjusted to Peter as he fled the penalty box. He slid onto the ice with the same practiced ease he’d used during the game. She could see him say something to Zack as he grabbed him by the shoulders. When his eyes finally landed on her, her pulse thrummed in her ears. He knew she was watching him, and that’s just what he wanted her to do.

“Where y’headed?”

The sound of someone’s voice nearly made her throw her water bottle. She’d only just left Xavier Hall when she was accosted (or rather spoken to) by someone who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Her head whirled around to meet hazel eyes and a busted lip.

“Are you stalking me?” She spat out, her eyes wide.

“Stalking you? Oh, my God, no,” Peter laughed, wincing when his split lip tugged into a smile, “I used to do a little photography for the paper, I know where the meetings are.”

“Right,” she nodded, “But, like, how did you know I would be leaving right now?”

“Lucky guess?” He suggests, cocking his head in a boyish way. She narrowed her eyes, but before she could say anything, he was already speaking again; “Saw you at my game yesterday.”

“It technically wasn’t your game. It was the team’s game. Both teams’ game.” Her voice was pointed as she spoke. When she began walking down the stone pathway that led to a dining hall, Peter followed without question.

“But I was there,” he responded, “And so were you.”

“MJ didn’t want to miss it,” she dismissed his words.

“Oh, yeah, she and Harry are getting pretty serious,” he hummed.

“Mhm,” she replied. She didn’t want to look at him, really. Every time she did, her gaze was drawn to the nasty gash on his lips. Her eyes, however, decided to betray her. She studied it, the way it moved with him, the way it would inevitably split further each time he grinned.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Peter said, almost as if he was reading her mind. Her eyes shot up to meet his.

“Did you get kicked off the team or something?” She asked as if she didn’t already know the answer.

“Hell no,” he laughed, “Just a slap on the wrist. Couldn’t finish out the game, but you already knew that.”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded, “I would’ve thought there would’ve been a little more.”

“I’ve never really gotten in a fight–and that wasn’t even a real fight,” he grinned

“So was that just you showing off or something?” Her brows creased.

“Something like that.”

They reached the entrance of the dining hall. Peter, in all his gangliness, was able to swipe his card before her and open the door. His smile just seemed to widen as she eyed him with a generous amount of suspicion.

“Thanks,” she said slowly as she stepped through the door.

“No problem,” he replied, “See you around, Kitty.”

“You can’t call me—”

He was gone before she could finish her sentence. The door fell shut in his absence, and she watched him walk away through the glass. He carried on down the pathway with his hands shoved into his pockets. A groan slipped from her lips when she realized that she was just staring at him. Her body moved into the dining hall, but her mind wandered (unwillingly) to Peter. He was annoying, and cocky, and smiled way too much for someone with a busted lip. Yet, the main thing stuck in her head was his hazel eyes and the way he watched her with them.

a/n — hey babes!! thanks for the love on this series so far. i’m not sure how long it’s gonna be, but i def have some plans, it’s def gonna get smutty at some point. anyways, hope you enjoyed!!

[alloftheimaginesblog]

breakfast {peter parker}

been going through my inbox to see what old messages/requests inspire me

prompt: “I can't get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you're having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

character: peter parker tasm x reader

The sun warmed your bare leg which had escaped from under the duvet early that morning as you gradually began to wake up. You could hear the muffled noise of the usual New York traffic from the open window, a sound you'd learned to drone out, and as you began to stir, you snuggled in closer to the warmth which was that of Peter Parker.

Upon you snuggling into him, he himself began to stir and wake up, eyes struggling to adjust to the brightness as he opened them, peering down at you confused before he realised the events of the previous night. He smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he mumbled a sleepy greeting to you.

"G'morning," you said back through a yawn. Nerves and excitement bubbled together in your stomach as you fully woke up. It had been the first time you'd stayed at Peter's apartment. The two of you had been dating for the last few weeks and last night, you... well, sealed the deal.

He let you shower first as he prepared breakfast. Eggs, toast, beans, bacon and mushrooms. You'd been in his apartment before, he'd made you dinner here, but not like this. You'd never got to use his vanilla body wash; never got to feel his soft towels on your skin, never got to use his toothpaste. It was all rather intimate.

Peter had thought of the issue at hand before you did. When you walked out of the en-suite to his bedroom, you realised that you didn't have a fresh set of clothes to wear but Peter had sorted you something. On the bed lay a large ESU hoodie and a pair of boxer shorts.

I've put your clothes in the washing, they'll be ready in an hour or so, in the mean time here's some of mine to keep you warm. Making breakfast - P :)

You smiled widely as you pocketed the note, you liked to have little keepsakes like that, and you changed into his clothes. They were too big for you but you loved the comfort of them. They smelled like your favourite cologne he owned.

When you walked out, Peter brandished two plates full of food, "Just in time." You sat at the breakfast bar, tucking into your food. You hadn't realised how hungry you were until you smelled the food in front of you and then all of a sudden, you were ravenous. Peter watched you with a smile, "I can't get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you're having breakfast with me in my sweater."

You looked up at him, mouth full and smiling, and Peter's heart grew three sizes. He loved that even though this was your first official sleepover, you were already comfortable with him, you didn't mind sitting wearing his jumper, hair messy and eyes tired. He loved that you didn't mind eating in front of him and you didn't mind to show that you liked to eat. You swallowed your mouthful and said, "Remember how nervous you were to ask me out?" Your voice was teasing and Peter rolled his eyes with a laugh as he sipped at his coffee.

"Best decision I ever made though," he told you truthfully, "now I have a pretty girlfriend."

You spluttered at the word, "Girlfriend?" As far as you knew, it wasn't official yet. He hadn't asked and you didn't want to just assume. You were shocked that he'd said it but not because you didn't want it, you did. You wanted to be his girlfriend, you wanted to be exclusive and hear he was just throwing the word around without you knowing.

Peter's face blanched, "Shit, sorry, I- I didn't - it's too soon, isn't it? I just- shit."

Realising he'd taken you the wrong way, you shook your head, "No, no, Pete!" You had to yell over him for him to stop the quick excuses, "I didn't mean that to be bad, I was shocked, that's all."

He released a breath, "Oh, good." There was a pregnant pause before he spoke again, "So... you want to be my girlfriend?" Here he was, at the ripe old age of twenty-seven, and he was bloody nervous over asking you to be his girlfriend.

You grinned, "Of course I do, Pete," you nodded, "I have a boyfriend." The giggle that you let out was the most adorable thing that Peter had ever heard before and all of a sudden, he was taken over by a rather animal urge. He pushed your plate away, pulling you off of the stool you sat on, "What are you-"

He kissed you hard and you knew exactly where this was going, "Last night, we weren't together. Now, you're my girlfriend. I say we need to celebrate that," he murmured against your lips as he navigated the two of you backwards and back to the bedroom.

So far being Peter Parker's girlfriend was a phenomenal experience.

[reidslovely]

heyy bambi i was wondering if i could request tasm!peter x reader where she’s grumpy and he’s sunshine with her getting jealous and not wanting to say anything so she just pouts and he thinks it’s so cute cause reader has nothing to worry about 🥹

hi friend loved this concept...however i can only bring myself to write frat tasm peter so that is incorporated into this plot because it's just fitting. hope you love it.

Love on the Brain

Frat!Peter x Reader

(in place of liking?hearting this post, pretty please, leave a reblog and/or a comment 🫶🏼)

This had been the flashiest frat party of the year by far. Even flashier than the one you and your friends had stumbled into six months ago, where you first met Peter Parker. Now Peter Parker had entangled himself in every sense of your life, like the spider he was. Everyone was dressed in some type of couples get up. Groups of friends having picked out group costumes, or couples having picked out iconic couple costumes. Which is what made you pissed off even more as the brunette dressed in a heart pink dress with a heart logo on it, grasped your boyfriend's arm. Peter’s eyes widened, very interested in her story not at all paying attention to the care-bear girl petting his bicep. 

You two were very clearly dressed in a couples costume, both having walked down the stairs in a 1950’s get-up mocking that of Jack and Alice from Don’t Worry Darling. Besides that, everyone knew Peter Parker had a girlfriend, a girlfriend who was pretty territorial. 

“He only has eyes for you.” M.J. approached you with two drinks in hand Harry in tow. The two dressed as Fred and Daphne from Scooby-Doo. She pushed the vodka sprite into your hand, eyes peering into you. 

“I know. And I have eyes for her right now, just not the ones she wants.” 

“He’s so oblivious.” 

Harry laughed watching his friend, nodding his head answering the chemistry question thrown at him. “How’d you even get him to catch on that you liked him?” 

“Didn’t have too he liked me first.” You shrugged sitting your drink down, leaning against the table of snacks where Peter had left you before being cornered.

“She’s not even one of the original care-bears.” M.J. shook her head. Peter finally pulled his eyes away from her, finding you in the crowd. Warmth and relief washed over you, but apparently not your face as Peter pointed your way talking to the girl. She huffed, dropping her hand shooting daggers at you. You bit back a smile, but your walls cracked as Peter walked over engulfing you in his arms. 

“What’s the long face for mhm?” Peter teases. 

“This is just my face.” You said dropping the smile again quickly. 

“Mhm, is someone jealous? Mhm” Peter teased, rubbing his nose against your forehead, teasing you. 

“No, of course not. You know where you’re taken care of.” 

You whisper, fixing the tie, you’d put it around his neck earlier. You were insanely green on the inside, and it only filled more when you caught her and a girl in a blue dress pointing your way mumbling something about “bitch.” Your bottom lip pulled inward, biting down on it as you thought.

“You know it’s okay to get jealous. It’s healthy, good for a relationship. Shows we still got something, if you weren’t jealous..well baby I think I’d be a little offended.” 

“Do you get jealous?” You deflected away from yourself, hands resting on his shoulders. Peter laughed and tilted his head. 

“..’Course I get jealous baby. Why do you think I’m always hanging on you on these things? I gotta show we are both taken. These guys have wandering eyes and I don’t really like that.”

His words made you feel better, him bringing his lips down to your cheek and to the corner of your mouth. You smiled at him, locking your lips with him, hands squeezing his shoulders. “I love you.”

“I love you too baby, promise.” Peter says pecking your forehead. “Now let's go make fun of Harry and that dumbass ascot.” Peter says, taking a drink out of your cup, pointing at Harry who turned already anticipating the loving ridicule.

__________

taglist:

@helloheyhihowdyheya @sincericida @a-lumos-in-the-nox @moonyslove78 @messymissy @adhdhufflepuff @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @eevylynn

[luveline]

hellooo!! im not sure if your requests are open so feel free to ignore this but i was wondering if you could write for tasm!peter where the reader just got her wisdom teeth removed and she’s all loopy on anesthetics and forgets peter is her boyfriend? i saw this video where this girl got her wisdom teeth pulled and forgot she was dating her boyfriend and fell in love with him all over again😭😭

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR7sGQo5/

thank you for your request! ♡ fem, 1k

"Here she is," the nurse says gently, walking you out with his arm behind your back. "Alright, say hi to Peter." 

"Hi, Peter," you mumble, eyes on the floor. 

Peter grins at you, worry warm at the back of his throat. "Hey. Is that everything?" he asks, nodding at the nurses paper bag of aftercare. 

"Everything you'll need." The nurse helps Peter take over, hoisting your arm over his shoulders before stepping away. "Alright, feel better, okay? And don't hesitate to call if something comes up. We're here to look after you." 

You seem appreciative in your fog, but it's hard to tell. Peter curls his arm around your hip and gives it a soft rub as he leads you to the stairs. Whoever devised the floor plan here had murder on their mind —the second floor is completely inaccessible. Luckily, Peter has a lot of strength at his disposal. 

You can feel it. "Woh, you're strong," you murmur. 

"You know that already." His grip on you tightens, pretty much carrying you down the tight staircase. 

"Do I?" you ask. You make a sound like you're hurting, a squeak. 

"I'd hope so." At the end of the staircase, he sits you down, worried you're not feeling well. "You okay? I can princess carry you if you need me to." 

You look at him with wide eyes. He turns to check there's no one standing behind him, but you're really looking at him. "What?" he asks, touching your knee, imploring. "You look like you've seen a ghost." 

"You're Peter?" you ask. 

Ah, the amnesiac effect of anaesthetic. His touch turns comforting, stroking your thigh with as much care as he can drive into his palm alone. "That's me. Hey, if you're forgetting me, does that mean you're not mad at me for last Friday anymore? 'Cos I know you said you forgive me but I can tell it still pisses you off–" 

Your eyes fall to his hand. "Why would I be mad at you?" you ask. 

"I finished the milk and put the carton back in the fridge, even though I promised I'd stop doing it. You see the jug and think there's milk left. We were gonna have macaroni and cheese..." He nudges your fingers with his. "Are you okay? You don't look like yourself."

"What do I usually look like?" 

"Not so, you know. Daunted." 

"You're really handsome," you whisper, refusing to meet his eye. 

"Oh, you think so?" 

You nod like your head is too heavy. You're embarrassed, you sweetheart, oh my god Peter could cry into your lap. 

"Let's get you to the car, baby." 

"Where are we going?" The gauze gives you the world's most adorable lisp, and it turns your gasp into a hum as Peter stands you up. 

"Home." 

"Together?" 

"Yeah, we live together. It's a nice place, and you're a great decorator, you know? It's cozy." 

"Thank you," you say shyly. 

You're not not shy with him, but it's been a long time since you got so quiet over a practically innocuous comment. He wants to see how you'll react to real compliments, over the top stuff that he one hundred percent means. It's a little mean, but when will you ever be like this again? 

He helps you out past the desk and onto the street to your car where it's parked a half a block down. "Don't worry about all this, okay? I'm gonna take such good care of you, sweetheart. There's an ice pack and a brand new comforter with your name on it waiting at home." Peter smiles at your starry eyes as they flash to his, amazed at his simple plans. "How does that sound, beautiful? Is there anything you want before we head home? Anything that would make you feel better?" 

"You're gonna take care of me?" you ask breathlessly. 

"That's my job. That's my number one boyfriend duty." 

"You're my boyfriend?" 

"I am!" he says happily, laughing as he speaks. "For a while. I've been trying to take things further but you're always really shy about getting married–" 

"You want to get married? To me?" 

Peter presses a soft kiss to your cheek. "You're the only person I'd ever want to get married to. We already picked the flowers–" 

"We did?" 

He laughs again, all your questions. He loves regular you but loopy you is especially endearing. "Last time I got super drunk, yeah. You never let me forget it." 

"So you love me?" you ask, stopping short.

"I love you so much," he says immediately, hugging you into his side. He dots another kiss against the top of your head. "You should remember that even if you don't remember me." 

"I love you," you say quietly. 

Peter doesn't know if that's your memory returning, or if you've fallen in love with him in the last fifteen minutes. He could easily fall in love with you that quickly, and yet he's still amazed at your confession. 

"That's good. That's great. Thank you, sweetheart," he says, desperate to hold your face in his hands but weary of causing you future pain. "There's your car," —he points, lowering his head to yours to make sure you can see it, hand now protectively held between your shoulder blades— "let's go home now. Yeah?" 

You start walking again at his requests. He can pretty much see the steam rising off of your face, giddy with happiness at these revelations. You're together, you're in love, and you think he's handsome. He wonders what you'll have to say about his biceps in this state of delirium; you go crazy for his arms sober. 

Which reminds him. 

"I totally have another secret to tell you," he says, unlocking the car as you approach and helping you into the passenger seat. 

"What is it?" you ask. 

Peter closes you in and skirts around the door, climbing into the driver's seat. He's glad that New York is as ridiculously loud as ever, because not even the closed doors or your sodden gauze can smother the way you shriek.

"My boyfriend is Spider-Man?!" 

[weird-is-life]

slow dancing with TASM!Peter omg🥺

Hii lovely, ty for this cute request🥰! Hope this is okay, warnings: fluff, kissing, mentions of wedding, (0.6k)

You and Peter are at that age, where you actually get invited to the wedding, you don't just go because your parents were invited.

So when Peter gets invited to one of his mate's wedding, he asks you to come with him as his date. Being Peter's best friend, you agree.

You love spending time with Peter, but as you spend more and more time at the romantic wedding atmosphere, you can't shake off the 'more than just a friend' feelings towards Peter.

He keeps looking at you funny, smiling oh so softly, that you think, you might get the wrong idea of Peter liking you back in your head. It's impossible not to think that way. You know it's not good for you, hoping that he has romantic feelings towards you won't end up good.

But of course, it goes even worse than the soft touches, lovely smiles, hushed jokes and the freaking compliments every few minutes. Peter's asks you to dance with him. Dance with him to a slow song!

"I can't dance, Peter. I'll just embarrass myself," you protest as Peter stands there with an offered hand.

"Please, you'll do just fine.. C'mon, I won't let you embarrass yourself I promise," Peter convinces you or more like begs you with the puppy eyes. You despite your better judgement agree.

Peter leads you to the dance floor, smiling like a fool. He's been trying to show you how he feels the entire wedding, but he hopes the dance will finally help you understand.

You put your hands on his shoulders and Peter holds you by the waist. Peter starts to slowly sway you both to the rhythm of the song, when he sees you anxiety over the dancing.

"Look at you, you are a natural at this," Peter whispers, as you move together. His compliment makes your cheeks go a little red.

"Thank you," you say sheepishly, gaze fixed on the ground, worried you'll stump all over Peter's feet.

But as you dance longer and longer, you get a bit more confident and you stop looking at you feet. You look up at Peter, only to find him smiling weirdly at you.

"What?" you ask with a small chuckle, "do I have something on my face?"

"No, it's just-...You look really beautiful," Peter tells you.

You suddenly stop dancing," Peter, y-you can't just say things like this, in a voice like that, to me." You'll die if he continues to speak to you like that.

"Why? It's the truth," he says, baffled. He honestly thinks, that there's no one more beautiful there than you.

"Pete...," you whine, but you start dancing again, " you've been killing me the whole wedding."

"With what?"

"With-With....everything. I'll get the wrong idea in my head and then I'll just end up with tears," you tell him, hoping he'll understand, that his loving or teasing (you are not sure) hints are too much for you.

"But-"

"Don't get my hopes up Peter, not tonight," you interrupt him, clearly a bit upset now, " you know, I like you and i don't understand-"

Peter interrupts your rambling. Of course, he knows you like him, that's why he's been dropping the hints the entire wedding. But clearly you didn't understand, so he has to take the matter into his own hands.

He shuts you up with his lips on yours. Your initial shock of Peter kissing you lasts only for a few seconds, before you're kissing him back.

When you pull away, he grins lovingly at you," do you understand now?"

"I think so," you giggle, feeling a bit stupid, that you didn't catch on earlier. "But I think you should kiss me once more, just to be sure...."

Peter, without hesitation, kisses you for the second time.

[webslingingslasher]

Could you write frat! Peter being obsessed with how hot reader is? Like always horny 24/7

frat peter is gonna get a lot of love in my wip, don't worry 💝

Peter’s got a big mouth and he loves to use it. 

Especially when it comes to declaring his love. 

“So pretty, did you know that?” 

It was the third time today he’s found himself placing biting kisses down your neck. 

“You might have told me once or-” you take in a shaky breath as Peter nibbles at your collarbone, “twice.” 

“What a shame. It should be the only words you ever hear.” 

“You do it close enough.” 

He smirks into your skin, it leaves a trail of goosebumps. 

You’d never have thought that the slightly out of place, quiet cute guy in the frat would be so greedy for your skin. You caught his eye and he needed to know everything about you at that moment. 

“You’re so needy, parker.” 

He pulled back and pinched at your bare hip, you tried to slide away but he pulled you closer. 

“It’s peter to you.” 

You sigh happily, “alright, peter, you’re so needy.” You emphasize his name, he responds by clicking his tongue. 

“Actually, I think it’s babe, or my personal favorite, god.” 

You snort, “god?” 

“Oh god! Oh god, oh my god! Babe, you feel so good, you make me sooo wet-” he gets cut off by you cupping a hand over his mouth, “if you want to keep hearing it you better shut up.” 

“I can’t help it, you just make so..” he trails off, his eyes working you over. He’s had you all to himself the entire day, and it’s still not enough. 

You make him feel so full of love and admiration the only way he can try to tell you is with his actions. 

Peter can’t hold it in, he hovers over you and starts kissing down your neck. 

“You look so gorgeous.” 

Your hand grips his curls. 

“And taste so so good,” 

“Flattery will get you-” 

“Shh… let me show you how good you make me feel.” 

[parkerpeter24]

Hiii!! If you are taking requests, can you please write a Peter x Reader where the reader and Peter started dating before the spider bite and after Peter got bit he calls the reader to come over because he is freaking out that he suddenly changed and they figure out Peter's abilities together like all crack and fluffy type 🥺🥺🥺

okayyyyy here we go

pairing ➳ peter parker x reader

requests are open (but don’t get your hopes too high)

masterlist

peter never avoided you.

he was often busy with school work, community service and his spanish classes but he always made time for you no matter what.

today was different.

everything seemed fine till friday. the two of you studied till late that evening and peter decided to stay over as the two of you fell asleep, cuddled up in your bed. When you woke up on saturday, peter was missing. you didn’t think much of that because you weren’t up for the embarrassing comments from your parents.

now it was sunday morning and there was a lack of his good morning messages. there was nor one on saturday and neither one today. however, the thing that irked you the most was that he wasn’t replying to your texts either. you had sent him various messages, some asking about his whereabouts, a few random meme pictures in hopes that he’e reply with at least a crying-laughing emoji. but nothing came.

it was around 2 o’clock when you received a phone call and you literally threw yourself off the desk chair, seeing your boyfriend’s name flash as the caller.

“peter where the hell are you?!” you cut to the chase but he seemed to ignore your question. you heard him on the other side as he breathed out shallow breaths into the speaker of his phone, “w-what’s wrong?” you asked, suddenly worried that he was robbed or hurt somewhere in one of queens’s alleys.

“(y/n), come home, p-please.” he stuttered, his voice sounding a mix between a plea and a demand.

the call just disconnected as you were about to ask what had happened.

but there was no time to think now. you put on your shoes as adrenaline rushed through your veins, making you stumble as you rushed out of your house, ignoring the call of your name from your mom.

peter was basically your neighbour so it didn’t you too long to reach his place, two houses down the street you lived in.

you pressed the doorbell more than thrice before his uncle ben opened the door, looking at you in confusion, “hey, kid, peter’s-”

may peeked at you over her husband’s shoulder as she walked to the door as well, “did you know what happened to peter?” she asked, clear confusion written all over her face.

you shook your head quickly, “he called me...”

you picked at your nails, just wanting to run past the elderly couple so that you could find out what really happened to the sweet boy.

“you should go see him, he’s been acting...” ben and may shared a look before settling on a word.

“weird.” both of them uttered at the same time.

“i’ll look.” you nodded and quickly made your way upstairs to peter’s room, thanking the parkers on your way up.

you knocked at his door, which seemed weird, but you had to other option as you found the door locked from the inside.

after a few beats, he opened the door and you looked at him. his hair was sticking up, except for the few locks that were stuck to his forehead due to perspiration. he raised his hands up, “something is wrong.”

you looked at him with raised eyebrows. he moved back quickly, letting you in. you noticed the distance he kept from you, which caused a small ache to develop in your heart, but you quickly diverted your attention to the condition his room was in.

there were food containers, bowls, packets of flavoured yogurt sprawled all over his work desk. now peter was a pretty tidy guy– or so you’d made him– so this was new.

the chair he usually sat on had it’s left armrest broken. there were papers– his notes– all over the room, some on his bed, some on the floor.

“peter... what the fuc-”

“i know!” peter exclaimed, “baby, please tell me i’m not hallucinating or... or am i going crazy?!”

“peter what’s wrong?” your voice, dripping with concern, made him look up and just as you took a step towards him, he took one back. a look of hurt flashed across your face.

“no. no, no, no.” peter quickly, “let me explain.” you sighed and nodded, letting him continue, “yesterday, a spider bit me.”

“huh?”

peter continued, ignoring the worried look you gave him, “(y/n), i’m sticking to everything! and i’m... i’ve gotten super strong! i broke that chair.” he pointed, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulped, “i think there was something wrong with that spider.”

“peter i-” you weren’t sure if moving closer to him was a good idea because he’d just back away, “are you... high?”

“what?!” he stared at you with squinted eyes.

“i think you need... rest?” his expression now mirrored your. there was too much confusion in the moment.

“you don’t believe me.” peter sighed in defeat.

“hey, hey. it’s not that, baby...” he shook his head as you trailed off.

“i can prove it.” all you could do was stare at him as he walked towards his desk, placing one of his fingers over the theoretical physics book, the heaviest among all the other books of peter’s. he pulled it up and then the book was in the air, stuck to his finger as if there was an adhesive between the two surfaces.

“holy-!” you almost screamed, now taking a step away from him.

he tried shaking his fingers but the book just wiggled in air, “h-how are... how the fuck are you doing that?!”

it was getting hard to breathe properly as he forced the book away from his fingers, the cover getting damaged in the process. now you understood all the pages on the floor. your eyes trailed over them again and you noticed the torn parts of papers.

“you’re sticky...” you mumbled out and looked at peter. he nodded in agreement.

“i thought the spider bite was making me hallucinate but...”

you took a deep breath, still trying to wrap your head around all of it.

“i’m sorry i didn’t want you to come close because i didn’t want to hurt you.” he explained, frowned eyes, looking into yours.

you held eye contact with him as you slowly took a step towards him, then another, and another until you were standing right in front of him, “you won’t hurt me, peter.” you assured.

“i won’t but-”

“just shh.” you placed a gentle hand over his cheek. he was sweating profusely, you noticed now but you didn’t care as he leaned into your touch, “it’s just your hands, right?”

your voice pulled him out from his slight trance, “what?”

“my hand is not going to stick to your cheek... right?” you asked, afraid to test it out.

“i honestly don’t know...” peter said, nervous to know himself.

thankfully, you were able to easily pull away your hand, taking a sigh of relief.

“what about other parts of you?”

a blush covered his cheeks at your question, “i- uh.. i-i’m sorry what-”

“like your lips?”

“are you willing to kiss me and find-” before he could finish his sentence, your hand grabbed another piece of paper from his desk and smacked it over his lips.

as soon as you left the paper, it floated down to the floor and you gave him a grin, “i can still kiss you!” peter stood there, giving you a blank look which made you chuckle, “sorry.”

“does this mean we can’t hold hands anymore?” peter asked, feeling a little at ease now that you were here with him. it gave him a sense of calm in your presence. in this moment. his senses didn’t feel on override. he was just trying to focus on you and your cute thinking face.

“maybe you should relax a little.” you looked at him, eyes softly boring into his soft, brown ones.

“how?” you offered him a hand and after slight hesitation, he placed his palm against yours. you grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently.

“maybe don’t try to focus on the ‘i’m super sticky, i stick to everything i see’ part?” you suggested, making him laugh. you took a deep breath, prompting him to do the same and it seemed to work. peter released your hand and it just fell to your side, as it would normally have.

peter gave you a huge smile, wrapping his arms around your waist, “god, you don’t wanna know how much i hated staying away from you!”

you chuckled, giving him a quick kiss. pulling back too soon for peter’s liking. however, before he could protest or pull you back for another kiss, you patted his chest twice.

“okay, sticky guy, go take a shower now.”

[madwcman]

hi! Can I request tasm! Peter w a f!short! reader who is always climbing on counters to reach stuff when he is not home? Him worrying about the bruises on her knees and catching her on the act

thank u in advance!

a/n: thank you for requesting!! ♡

pairing: tasm! peter x short! reader

“sweetheart, what are you doing?” you turn to your unimpressed boyfriend. his arms are folded over his chest and he has his eyebrows raised at you in question. you’ve been caught.

you were currently on your kitchen counter trying to grab a glass.

“nothing!” you quickly climb down from your kitchen counter, with a nervous smile. “we’ve talked about this,” he states firmly. and he’s right you and peter have had plenty of talks about you climbing on the counters. but it’s not your fault! you can’t reach things in your home, you usually ask peter to get things for you but when he leaves you resort to climbing.

“i know- but it’s not my fault!” you defend yourself, you walk over to peter and wrap your arms around him. “i know it’s not, but you need to be careful, i don’t want you hurting yourself.” he melts into your hug and kisses your head. “well what do you suggest i do?” you look up to your boyfriend for answers. “grow taller.”