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#tasm!peter parker imagine
weird-is-life · 2 days
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saw that you were open for requests so uhm, oblivious idiots in love w tasm!peter? you know, where both of them definitely have a crush on each other and everyone knows except the two of them so their friends keep dropping hints on other's behalf (cos they know they're both too shy to say it themselves) but it's s frustrating cycle of denial and obliviousness? totally up to you how jt ends :)
have a great day!
Hii lovely, ty for the request💕! Sorry it took so long, but hopefully it's not too bad. Warnings: fluff, oblivious idiots, swear words, like one pet name, use of y/n, mentions of bars(0.6k)
You and Peter are definitely the most oblivious people ever. You friends can't even believe how blind you two are. It's actually pretty embarrassing.
They've been trying to get you two to finally come to the realisation for too long now. So they decide to make a more drastic approach to it. They basically make you two go on a date.
Your friends tell you and Peter that you are all hanging out at a nicer place than a pub for a change and that you should dress nicely.
So you do you put on a nice sundress and Peter puts on a white shirt and black trousers.
You only just realise what exactly is happening when you arrive at the fancy bar, and find only
Peter no sign of your other friends.
"Hi Pete," you greet him a little baffled, "where's everyone?"
"Hi sweetheart," his nickname immediately has you blushing, you go even more red as Peter gets up and hugs you oh so tightly, "I don't think they are coming."
He says it with a guilty face, "what do you mean they are not coming?" You ask him even more confused.
"It's just....-" Peter struggles to find the right words, and you don't know what to make of it.
"What is it?"
"I didn't mean for you to find out like this, I've been trying to gather the courage to tell you myself, "he takes a deep breath," I like you y/n, like more than friends. And I've wanted to invite you to a date for so long, but I guess our-our friends thought it would do me good if they did it for me. I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry, y/n that they made you come here on my account. I totally understand if you want to go, fuck I know I would, " Peter basically blurts this whole confession in one go, and it almost makes your head spin. You can't believe this is happening.
"Are-are you...Do you really mean it?" you ask with a little hope.
Peter gives you a small, defeated smile, "of course, I mean it I wouldn't just joke about something like this. I like you y/n, always have."
"Pete, but I like you, too." Peter's face instantly lights up," I thought our friends did this because of me, I've been a coward as well. I couldn't bring myself to actually tell you the truth. I really like you, Peter. More than just a friend." You both chuckle as you add the last sentence.
Peter suddenly gets up happy as one can be, and offers you his hand. "Do you maybe wanna go somewhere else?"
You grin at him," I thought you'd never ask, I mean gosh, this place is definitely too fancy for us. What were our friends thinking?"
You giggle as Peter leads you out of the fancy bar, but Peter abruptly stops outside, and you almost bump into him.
"I haven't really asked you, have I?" Peter chuckles, "would you like to go on a date? With me? Right now?"
You can't help it, you kiss his cheek, and say, " I'd love to Pete."
And just like that your friends' plan works out. You go on a cute date, and hold hands the whole way to that different location. And maybe, just maybe (he does), Peter works out the courage to kiss you goodbye after he walks you home.
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parkerpeter24 · 9 months
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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
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“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.”
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cosmal · 1 year
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✪ — oh em gee what about ❛ this is a good look for you. ❜ with peter parker
stained
summary — peter spills a drink on your top at a party.
content — tasm!peterparker x fem!afab!reader, mentions of nudity
note — sorry this is super short! more of a baby blurb!
You sit on the edge of the toilet, naked from the waist up, while Peter is hunched over the bathroom sink, scrubbing at your shirt.
"Peter, just leave it, I'll wash it at home," you say softly. He looks really determined.
He'd spilt his drink all over your top downstairs at the party you're at. He'd felt horrible and insisted that he could get the stain out in the sink. The green stain out of your white top.
Turns out dawn soap and lukewarm water don't do the job. "I'm sorry, baby, really," he frets, holding the top up where it drips into the sink. You're not sure if he's made it better or worse. You appreciate him nonetheless.
"Pete, thank you, really," you start, shifting uncomfortably over the plastic lid. You cross your arms over your chest, where your bra digs into your skin, and look at the wet mess Peter holds in his hands. "It's okay. But now I have no top."
Peter drops the shirt looking really guilty. He feels horrible because he's ruined one of your favourite tops and he's also the reason you're half-naked in some random condo.
"Shit," he curses to himself.
He doesn't think twice. Peeling his jacket off, he stands at your knees and holds it out. "Here," he says bashfully. It's a thin jacket, made of nothing really. It's all you've got and you're not about to start complaining.
You stand to slip it on and hate it when you realise it has no zipper. Or any buttons. You pull it taut over your front and start to feel anxious. "Can you see anything?"
He pulls the collar forwards over your collarbones and smooths it out over your shoulders. "You're safe," he smiles. You watch his throat bob under the skin of his lightly stubbled neck. "It, uh, it looks really good."
"Pete," you groan while tipping your head back. "I'm naked, in the middle of the city, wearing my clumsy boyfriend's jacket, and you're getting turned on?"
"What?" he gawps, clearing his throat, "I am not! You just suit it, that's all."
You pull it tight around your middle and roll your eyes. "You're unbelievable."
He plays with the hem between his fingers, keeping his eyes planted to the floor momentarily. "It's a good look on you."
You straighten your back and ignore the way he's making you feel. Time and place you remember. "Right, we're going outside unnoticed and you're gonna hail a cab with those long arms of yours."
"You don't wanna swing home?" he asks.
"You don't have your shit," you grumble. It'd be convenient, but also reckless.
"My shit? You mean my suit?" he laughs, wrapping a hand around the hinge of your elbow. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that because I deserve it."
Peter makes sure you're decent before he opens the door to the bathroom. You stand behind him, hanging off his arm, hoping his broad shoulders will do you a favour and hide you well.
There's a drunk guy on the other side for the toilet presumably. Peter moves to the side to shield you on instinct when you squeak out a surprised noise. You push your chest against him to cover the slip of skin that struggles to be covered by the jacket, and let Peter guide you down the hall.
You lean in to whisper in his ear, "You owe me, Parker."
You get out onto the street when he says, "I'll show you how sorry I am when we get home."
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vivwritesfics · 1 year
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"I Know"
Peter Parker has the best girlfriend ever
1.1K
Peter Parker x Reader
I've been MIA for the longest time because the inspo just hasn't been there. But I've gotten away from university for a few days, and this is what came from my peaceful time alone
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"I'm so sorry, baby," said Peter. He stood on top of a building, watching a bank robbery happening opposite. A bag full of snacks and two pairs of his favourite pyjamas lay discarded beside him, and Peter made a mental note to pick it up later. The wind was biting, but Peter didn’t care. His attention was split evenly between his girlfriend and the bank robbery.
This was not the first time he had flaked on date night, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. He and his girlfriend both knew. But Peter Parker had the most understanding girlfriend in the world.
"It's okay, Pete," she said. Peter could picture her now, snuggled up in her bed, waiting to change into a pair of his pyjamas, with her snack basket filled and her laptop loaded up with a Christmas movie. "Go... save the world."
It wasn't quite saving the world, but she made Peter smile. She always made Peter smile. Y/N was the most understanding person in the world. "I'll be at yours as soon as I can. Don't open the chocolate without me."
After that, Peter had no choice but to hang up. The bank robbery had started to wrap up and Peter had to stop them. He put his phone in his bag, pulled his mask over his face, and swung down to the bank. "You guys have ruined my date night."
“What the fuck?” One of the bank robbers dropped his white bag filled with green notes and swung a bat at Peter.
It was cartoon-y, how these robbers were behaving. The white bags, the notes flying all over the place. Their ski masks weren’t masks at all, but unfolded beanies with the eyeholes cut out. “Wait, can I get a picture? My girlfriend is going to love this.”
***
Y/N’s family loved Peter. Somehow, he’d never been late to dinner with her parents. Either criminals decided to take the day off, to let Peter have his dinner, or for once somebody else was cleaning up the city in his stead.
But not tonight.
“I’ll be maybe ten minutes late,” he said as he swung through the city. His suit was discarded, but his tie was still around his neck.
Y/N had her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she put in a pair of earrings. Dinners like these were a big deal to her parents. The whole family dressed up fancy, all of her sibling’s partners were invited and they had at least three courses. “Pete, babe, it’s fine. I’ll cover you.” And, as she said it, she didn’t sound disappointed at all.
Peter really had the best girlfriend in the world. “Holy shit, I love you,” he said, only just noticing his tie. But it was too late to remove it now. “Please send me the cover story.”
They said their goodbyes (with Y/N begging him to stay safe) and went to do their things. Peter fought the bad guy, managing to keep his rather expensive tie intact. Y/N finished getting dressed for dinner and went downstairs to greet her parents.
Her siblings and their partners were already downstairs, drinks in their hands.
“There she is!” Called her brother as Y/N stepped into the room. He checked his watch and feigned a frown. “Not like that boyfriend of yours to be late, is it?”
With her hands clasped behind her back, Y/N rocked on her heels. “Actually, Peters gonna be late today,” she said, hoping they weren’t going to ask anymore questions.
“That Parker boy is never late,” her father said, “What’s holding him up?”
Before now, Y/N hadn’t thought of an excuse for Peter. She had just hoped they wouldn’t ask, and then he could’ve come up with his own backstory. (Peter had gotten good at that).
“Uhh…His house… caught fire? And his aunt… is in the hospital… with death?” oh yeah no this was not going well. “Oh! And the tire on his bike popped.”
Yes. That was very believable.
But nobody questioned it as Y/N sat beside her sister and her sister’s girlfriend. “He’ll be here soon.”
Her eyes shifted to the floor, which only made everything more believable. She pulled out her phone and sent Peter the cover story, just seconds before the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” She shouted, jumping up.
Racing to the front door, Y/N pulled it open to see Peter stood there, still sorting out his suit. “You are so lucky nobody else answered the door,” she said and buttoned up his shirt correctly. “I sent you over the cover story,” she whispered and kissed his cheek.
Pulling him into the house, Y/N pushed him towards her father. “Hello, Mr L/N! Sorry, I’m late, my tire burst.”
Suddenly, Y/N’s mother came running out of the kitchen. “Peter, my dear!” She shouted and pulled him in for a hug. “I’m so sorry to hear about May and your house. You can stay here for as long as you need!” She cried, running her fingers through her hair. He looked at Y/N with her brows furrowed. ‘Go with it’, she mimed. “How about we all go and visit May as soon as we’re finished with dinner?”
“Oh! Please, Mrs L/N. That’s not necessary.” Peter pulled away from his girlfriend’s mother and grabbed Y/N’s hand. “Can I have a word with you upstairs?” He asked her, and Y/N allowed herself to be pulled up to her bedroom.
As soon as the door was shut Y/N was wrapped around him. “I missed you,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek.
“Missed me so much you told your family that May was in the hospital?”
“And that your house burnt down,” she said quietly, laying her head on his chest. “I know I said I’d cover for you, but I’m not very good at it, Pete.” Her arms snaked around his middle, sitting beneath his blazer.
Peter’s phone suddenly buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and frowned once he looked at it. “Oh god, what is it?” Asked Y/N, looking up at Peter with wide eyes.
“Baby, I love you but, I’ve got to go. I swear this’ll-”
“It’s okay, Peter, I know.”
Peter kissed her. It was slow, yet oh so intense. One of those kisses that makes you gasp. “I have the best girlfriend in the world.”
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luveline · 9 months
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Can I request just Peter and shy!reader cuddling and stuff after a long day (after r having a long day or after peters spidey stuff whichever) ❤️
thank you for your request! tasm!peter parker x fem!reader, 1k
It feels like Peter's been gone for a long, long time when he finally comes home. Hair whipped every which way from swinging, his cheeks kissed by cold, nose bitten and pink, he drops his keys by the door and sweeps you up into his impossibly strong arms. 
You'd usually laugh at the sudden weightlessness, but his touch summons a lump in your throat, the thrumming feeling of missing him alive and in your hands. You work them around his shoulders. 
"You had a bad day?" he asks. You don't know how he knows, but he does. 
"I just needed to see you," you say, embarrassed by the strength of your feelings. 
Peter walks you backwards and you do laugh, then, the rigidness of your emotion warmed into softness by his arms around you and his easy smile. Peter dunks you down onto your L-shaped couch so you're flat on your back with your legs propped up and isn't shy about laying on top of you, the firm muscle of his thigh slotting between your softer ones, his hands moving to frame your face. 
He holds your cheeks for a second, decides he actually can't deal with the weight of his bag still on his shoulders or the jacket that haphazardly hides his suit and shrugs both off, and then holds your face again. 
"You're warm," he says. 
"You're cold," you say, turning your cheek into his hand, your head smushed up against the couch cushions. 
You close your eyes as he gets comfortable, content to spend long, slow minutes in the sanctuary of his arms, knowing he'll let you stay here however long you need to. You think you could commit to the couch for the remainder of your life and Peter would spend the rest of his days bringing you trinkets and offering to give you sponge baths. It's a preposterous thought based on an absolute truth; Peter would do anything for you. You'd do anything for him. 
You curl your arms around the broad, muscled stretch of his back, fingertips tripping over the wrinkles in his shirt, nose sniffing indulgently at his hair. 
"I needed to see you, too," he says into your neck. He speaks quietly, but not for the sake of any concerns. There's no need for privacy, and no shame in the admission. "Day's perfect now."
It's such a him thing to say. 
After another handful of quiet minutes, Peter works it around so he's the one being weighed down, squeezing between you and the couch armrest and easing you effortlessly onto his chest. You throw a leg over his thigh, curl an arm around his waist. He's not as cold anymore, but you rub his arm in a steadying back and forth until you've made your way to his fingers. They're still pretty cold —you pull his hand to your mouth and blow warm air at his fingertips until they're pink rather than blue.
Peter noses your hairline affectionately. "You're quiet today. More than usual," he says. "Should I be concerned?" 
"No," you murmur, rubbing his knuckles against your forehead for no good reason. It feels nice. After less than half a second, he does it of his own accord. 
Peter pushes your head back gently and starts to kiss you. Your forehead from end to end, the bridge of your nose, the tip. You shiver happily at the feeling and tilt your chin up for a proper kiss, though that happiness quickly melds to embarrassment when he laughs against your lips. I know what you want, his laugh says.
And even though he's right, even though it's obvious, it's raw to be caught wanting. He knows how much you want him in any and all capacity, and that's scary. 
You'd pull away if you thought Peter didn't know how you felt; you trust him completely. He can kiss you sick, for all you care. 
Peter doesn't kiss you for long, resting his forehead against your jaw, hand at the back of your neck to hold you where he wants you.
"Put your head back," he murmurs, faux-thoughtful, "I wanna give you a better kiss." 
"You want to give me a bruise," you murmur back. 
He dips in to kiss your neck softly. "Not true," he says, his bottom lip tickling you as he exhales. 
You lean back and raise your shoulder to push him away. You trust him, you love him, but if he gives you a hickey tonight you won't be able to look at him without a hot flush. You're too tired for anything amorous. 
Peter doesn't hold it against you. If anything, he does the opposite, rubbing your aching shoulders with a big, flat palm, like he's saying sorry. It's unnecessary. 
"I love you," you say. 
"I know," he says, giving you a short pat between shoulder blades. "Not as much as I love you, though, don't get it twisted." 
"I'm not getting anything twisted." 
"No?" Peter pulls you up his chest and turns his head so you can look at each other comfortably, no craned necks up or down. "Feels like you are. You think you love me more, which is scientifically improbable." 
"I didn't say that." 
"It felt like you said that." 
"I didn't say that." You glare at one another. The glares don't last long. 
You dive in for another hug, Peter tightening his grip around your waist, forearms up your back and locking you in. "This is nice," you say. 
"For you. My arm is dead." 
You giggle and shift further on top of him to alleviate the pressure on his arm. He groans like you're his very worst ailment, but when he kisses your head it's so tender you'd bet money that it left a mark, a physical actualisation of his affection. 
"Better?" he asks. 
You know what he's asking without further explanation. Do you feel better now? 
You nod against his neck, thinking you might just fall asleep in his arms. 
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thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 months
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What about Peter having a crush on reader but he can never properly talk to her, until reader gets saved by spider man like twice and in the third time she kisses him and Peter's all happy and excited at first until he realises she only like spiderman not Peter Parker and he's all sad and he visits her place as spidey and they talk and he tries kiss her and she's like no it was a mistake and I didn't mean it and I already like this other guy and he's like who??? And she's like oh this boy with me at school and Peter being Peter apologises and decides to help her ask the boy out while being a the sweet sad puppy he is and the next day he's all mopey at school and avoids reader until she corners and asks him out and he's like omg she was talking about me
.....can I please have chocolate now? 🥺🥺🥺
- yours truly
a/n: okay, i hope you don’t mind, i tweaked it a little so that he doesn’t find out the truth at school but at her apartment when he visits him
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
masterlist | join my taglist 
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“Wait,” you pressed a palm to the hero’s chest and pushed him back slightly. He’d pulled up his mask just enough for his soft lips to be unobscured before he’d locked them with your own, “this–, uhm…” you averted your gaze and shook your head lightly as to rid yourself of the hazy sensation the taste of his kisses bloomed, “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
“What?” he leaned back a bit next to you on your bed.
“It’s not you, I promise, you’re so–… I mean, you’re you. Most of New York would probably kill to get to do, well, this with you. I just–, as good as that felt, it can’t happen again,” sucking in a shaky breath, you revealed, “I kinda like someone else, like really like them. So, this just–, I’m sorry… I can’t…”
As a slow, sombre exhale flowed out past his lips, “oh…” he leaned further away from you, “who–, uhm… who is it?”
“A guy at my school. We have biology together, though I’ve never actually had the courage to talk to him. Every time I try, I just chicken out at the very last second and walk away…”
“What’s his name? Maybe, I don’t know… maybe your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman could play matchmaker or something?”
Blinking back at him, you breathed, “you’d really do that? You’ve already done so much for me.” 
“It’s fine, I wanna help,” he offered you a weak smile, “I just want you to be happy. So, what’s the guy’s name?”
“Peter,” you said wistfully, “Peter Parker.”
Mouth parting slightly in surprise, he looked as if you’d just slapped him clean across his face. 
“He’s got brown hair,” you went on, “and is like probably the smartest person I’ve ever met.”
“Peter Parker?” he repeated, “y-you have a crush on m–, on him?”
“Pretty much since the day I first met him,” you sighed longingly, “I know, you must think I’m pathetic. You throw yourself into danger every day and here I am, too scared to talk to the guy I’m in love with.”
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© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 
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spiderfunkz · 3 months
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thinking about peter parker whos girlfriend is a total book nerd . . . where he'd always take you on dates to the bookstore and insists on buying you a new book. where he'd follow you around the store like a lost puppy while you run around trying to find the book you want.
peter parker who'd always be there to comfort you when your favorite character meets their end, where he would say, "maybe they'll get resurrected in the next book, who knows?" while awkwardly smiling, which usually puts you in the mood again to smile and laugh at his attempt to comfort you. "the series is done peter, that was the last book." you sniff, "hey maybe they'll do a cameo in the prequel!"
peter parker who'd listen to your rambles about your most recent read and do research afterwards because he couldn't process all the lore properly and got confused halfway as you were talking. but even when he is confused, he still listens and nods anyways.
peter parker who waited for it to rain at night so he could recreate the 'kissing & dancing in the rain' scene from one of your favorite books because you wouldn't stop talking about it, and he personally thinks you deserve to experience that at least once. you both ended up getting a cold
peter parker who lays beside you and reads comics while you're reading your books. where he'd slowly inch closer and closer to you and rest his head on your shoulder, placing his comic book down and just slowly fall asleep on your shoulder as you whisper the lines from your book.
peter parker who'd secretly read along from behind and dramatically gasps when a character does something remotely weird. where at the end you two would just start gossiping about how that character would do such things.
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bruisedboys · 8 months
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Helluu, congrats!!!
I would like to request STAR TRIPPING, blurbs— “i don’t have time for distractions” and (if it’s okay to choose two prompts, if not you can choose the one you want to write:)) “you look so pretty right now” with tasm!pete<3
another old 4k celly request!! sorry this is so late angel. I went with the second prompt, hope this is okay!
tasm!peter parker x gn!reader
Peter’s bleeding out on your bed. Again.
You can’t say you’re very surprised.
“Pete, would you please just stay still? I cant focus when you keep touching me like that.”
Peter isn’t a very good patient. At least not when you’re nursing him. He wants to touch you and look at your face and basically find any way to distract you from the task at hand. Which just so happens to be patching him up.
“Sorry,” he says, pulling his hands away from where they’d been resting in your shoulders, his thumbs tracing your collarbones through your shirt. His shirt, really. But who’s paying attention to that?
You huff. He doesn’t sound very sorry at all. He sounds like he’s smiling. You look up from where your eyes had been trained on his bruised and bloodied chest and find you’re right. He’s smirking.
You glare. Peter balks.
“What?” He says, dripping in fake innocence. “I just— you look so pretty right now.” His eyes go all melty and soft and so does his voice. He reaches up with one hand to cup your burning cheek. “I can’t help it, dove.”
You groan. He’s lovely. And he’s a total menace. You hate him, you swear.
“I can’t believe you,” you say, nudging his hand away with your cheek. “I just got out of bed. I look so gross.”
“You don’t,” Peter says, sounding way more offended than he needs to be. His hand finds your waist and you can feel it’s warmth through the soft fabric of your (his) t-shirt. You very secretly wish he’d dip his hand under the hem like he always does. “You’re beautiful.”
You drop the cloth you’re dabbing his wounds with and climb out of his lap with a huff.
“Y/N—!”
“I’m going back to bed,” you say grumpily, walking away without looking back.
Despite his wounds, Peter catches up with you within an instant, promising to keep his hands to himself until you’re finished cleaning him up. He doesn’t keep his promise. You find you don’t mind as much as you should.
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moonstruckme · 1 month
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hi!
can i request tasm!peter meeting reader after having to do long distance?
if not thats okay! love your writing:)
have a great day<3
Thanks lovely, hope you have a great day as well!
Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 683 words
You don’t just give out copies of the key to your apartment, so when the front door opens you think you’re about to be shot. 
Breath caught in your throat, you freeze in the hallway and say the first deterrent that comes to mind. “I’ve got a gun!” 
The laughter that responds is as familiar as it is cheeky. “No, you don’t,” Peter says. 
“Jesus.” Your heart starts again, and in that split second your feet are already moving. 
Peter opens his arms as you throw yourself at him, taking your weight happily. “Nope, just me,” he quips, his harsh grip at odds with the levity of his voice. 
“Still a bad joke.” Your own voice is thick with fondness. You press your face into his neck, getting your boyfriend as close as you can. “What are you doing here?” 
“I live here.” He gives your upper back an excited squeeze. “You miss me?” 
“Not even,” you mumble into his shoulder. You go ahead and wrap your legs around his waist, and Peter chuckles, starting to walk the both of you towards your couch. “You scared the shit out of me, you know.”
“Yeah, maybe not my best plan.” He collapses downward, and you fold yourself around him more completely, getting comfortable in his lap. You think you’ll just never leave, honestly. “I thought the surprise would be more fun than scary.” 
“I could’ve met you at the airport.” 
“May would’ve killed me.” He palms the back of your neck, lips finding your hairline. “She wanted to pick me up herself, but she’s letting you have me for dinner. I have to be back by ten.” 
You let out a petulant whine. “Why does she get to decide?” 
You adore Peter’s aunt and he knows it, but when you’re having to battle her for custody of your boyfriend all that love goes right out the window. 
“I know,” Peter commiserates. “You’d think after a semester of taking care of myself in another country, I’d be allowed to stay out until at least eleven.” 
You hum, vacating your spot in the juncture of his neck in favor of seeing his face. You pet down the cowlick at the crown of his head, and Peter catches your hand, kissing your palm. A warm thrumming starts up in your chest. It’s similar to the sensation you’d gotten during your evening calls while Peter was abroad (well, your evening, his late night), but more. Better. You’ve missed feeling it like this. 
“How was Hertfordshire?” you ask. 
Peter gives you a look like you’re being silly. “I told you already.” 
“It’s different in person.” 
He smiles, thinking. “Small. Grassy. Cute, but not much to swing off of.” There’d been no vigilante work while Peter did his research abroad. He talked like it was a welcome break, but you could tell he missed it. Something changes in his look, eyes going soft and flirty. “No pretty girls.” 
You bite back a smile. “Let’s not do the women of Hertfordshire a disservice,” you chide.
“Fine.” Peter rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “None of my pretty girl.” 
He lifts his chin and you oblige him, touching your lips to his. It’s a kiss months in the making, and it heats quicker than either of you are expecting. Your heart thunders and throbs to the point of aching. You shuffle closer in Peter’s lap and his hand presses into the small of your back, both of your breathing turning harsh and desperate. 
“Missed you,” he says into your mouth. 
“I missed you more.” 
“Wanna bet?” Peter lifts you off the couch, and his casual strength shouldn’t surprise you anymore but it does. You laugh, again wrapping your legs around his waist. 
“Shouldn’t we start to think about dinner?” you ask as he carries you towards your bedroom. 
He hums, reluctant. “What time is it?” 
You look to the side to check the clock on your microwave, and he kisses your cheekbone while you do. “Almost seven.” 
Peter hums against your skin, pressing another kiss to the side of your nose. “We’ve got time.”
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flightlessangelwings · 5 months
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Ktober 2023 Day 25- Mirror Sex
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Tasm!Peter Parker x gn!reader
Word count- 1.1k
Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), softness, voyeurism, lot of praise, aftercare, established relationship, no use of y/n
Notes- Oh this was was so fun to write!! And it's another personal favorite of the month as well so I hope y'all like it too!! And I purposefully made it a gn reader too! Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!
@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!
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~
“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Peter’s voice echoed in your ear.
You sat in front of him, your legs parted as he knelt behind you, fucking into you slowly. Peter’s strong grip kept you upright, and you leaned back to feel the warmth and safety of his embrace. As your mouth dropped open from how good he felt rocking into you from this angle, your eyes fluttered shut and you lost yourself in the pleasure that was Peter’s touch.
A soft whimper escaped your lips as you reluctantly blinked your eyes open, but you gasped when you focused and noticed what he wanted you to see. You weren’t sure when he set it up, but a full length mirror sat at the end of the bed, and it framed where the two of you were perfectly. Even in the low light of the room, you saw both your figures clearly.
“That’s it,” he cooed as he thrust into you once, “Look at how beautiful you are.”
You moaned loudly and closed your eyes once more.
“Uh-uh,” Peter gently grabbed your chin and forced you to keep your line of sight on the mirror, “I want you to watch.”
“Peter…” you whined as you blinked your eyes open again. It didn’t go unnoticed that he didn’t move again until you did.
“See?” his tone was low as he kissed the side of your face, “Look how beautiful you are.”
You gasped when he thrust into you once, but harder this time. Your body almost jolted forward if it weren’t for Peter’s strong grip keeping you in place. As much as you wanted to close your eyes and enjoy the feeling of his cock inside you, you knew he would stop if you did. So, you kept them open and trained on his face as he watched you in the mirror.
“That’s it sweetheart,” Peter murmured as he rocked into you at a slow and steady pace.
Skin slapped against skin as both of you locked eyes in the mirror. From that though, you saw the fire that burned within his eyes with every thrust of his hips, and you felt the low mumble from deep in his chest against your back. You saw how his hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat and it only made him more beautiful to you. And then your eyes trailed down both your figures.
Between your legs, you could make out the distinct shape of his cock whenever he pulled out from you. And then it disappeared inside you when he thrust forward again, burying it deep inside you. The added visual made you moan louder as you clung to Peter’s arms.
He gritted his teeth as he felt you clench around him, and then Peter’s eyes followed yours. He watched for a few moments as his cock appeared and then disappeared with his thrusts. Then, he made a low, deep sound you had never heard from him ever before. And it sent a pulse of need right to your core.
“Fuck,” Peter breathed, “Look at us,” he thrust once more, “Look how you fit me so perfectly,” he thrust again, filling you to the brim.
“Yes,” you murmured as your eyes glazed over, “Peter.”
“Look how beautiful you look like this,” he caressed your chin where he still held you while his other arm stayed around your body to pin you against him, “Look how well you take my cock.”
“Oh fuck,” you moaned as a chill ran up your spine from Peter’s words.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he cooed.
You dug your nails into his skin, “Peter… Yes…” you moaned, “So good, Pete… I…”
“What is it?” he trailed a line of hot, sweet kisses along your skin, “Tell me,” he said as he met your gaze in the mirror.
“You feel so good,” you whimpered, “And I love watching you fuck me like this.”
“That’s it,” he turned your chin to kiss your lips for a moment, pausing with his cock fully inside you to taste you before he turned you back to the mirror, “I want you to see what I see when I fuck you,” his tone dropped impossibly low, “I want you to fall apart and watch yourself in the mirror.”
“Oh shit,” you cried out as he suddenly picking up his pace, pounding into you with fervor, “Fuck! Peter! Yes!”
“That’s it,” he purred again as he grunted, holding back his own climax.
The look on Peter’s face when his jaw clenched made you let out the most obscene sound and you felt your body heat up and your skin tingle, “Fuck, Peter… You’re gonna make me cum.”
“Cum, sweetheart,” he groaned, “Cum for me.”
“Peter!” you screamed his name as you fought to keep your eyes open as your climax hit. You trembled in his grasp as you came hard, your mouth dropping open to let out all the sounds that Peter loved to hear.
“Beautiful,” he murmured as he watched your every expression in the mirror. He saved off his own orgasm for as long as he could, but from the way you looked so delectable in the mirror, he didn’t last long.
With a low groan of his own and your name on his lips, Peter came just as hard, His movements stuttered as he lost control as came deep inside you, filling you up. He too had to fight to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss a second of the show the two of you put on for yourselves. Peter savored the gasp you let out as he filled you to the brim, and both of you exhaled sharply when you watched it drip down your legs.
A shiver ran up your spine as you felt both your releases slide down your skin, but you couldn’t move. You didn’t want to anyway, content in Peter’s strong grip. For a moment, neither of you could budge, both too entranced in the other’s eyes in the mirror. You still stayed connected together, and at the same time, your eyes both fell to that connection.
“That was so hot,” you breathed in awe.
Peter grinned widely and kissed your neck, “I told you to trust me,” he murmured in your ear, his eyes ever leaving yours.
“I do trust you, Pete,” you whispered as you broke the connection to turn and kiss him deeply, tasting him once more, “And I love you.”
He smiled against you, “I love you too, sweetheart,” he kissed the tip of your nose before he pulled away, “Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart.”
“You always take such good care of me, Peter,” you sighed contently before you let out a gasp as he slowly and carefully pulled out of you,
Peter shot you and apologetic look in the mirror before he gathered you in his arms again, collapsing both of you down onto the bed, “I always will, sweetheart,” he whispered, “I always will.” 
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astermath · 7 months
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peter parker is a bit of a loser skater boyfriend.
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okay, he's not that much of a loser. he takes cool photos, he's good looking and he's done a skate grind on the campus staircase at least once.
and being spiderman is pretty cool too I guess.
but when he's around you, it seems like all the charm melts right off his body, and he's reduced to a nervous college student who's seemingly never interacted with a girl before.
he doesn't mean to, and neither do you, but you seem to bring out that side of him. the side that fails a skating trick every time you're looking. the side that makes him stumble over his words and almost forget his own name. the side that makes him run his hand through his hair until it sticks all over the place, and somehow he's not all that confident in his charisma and wit anymore.
and yet, every time, you offer him that sweet giggle that sends his heart into overdrive, that overtakes all his senses and makes him want to record it and listen to it on loop.
it makes him want to keep trying. until he gets the courage to finally ask you out.
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backtothefanfiction · 4 months
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Crushed | Peter x Reader x Harry imagine
Summary: Your boyfriend sometimes has anger problems, but this is the first time he’s ever taken it out on you. Thank the lord his best friend was there to step in.
Warnings: angst, jealousy, unintentionally angry abusive boyfriend (it’s Harry’s illness), protective friend, needle, strangling, a little bit of infidelity (it’s just one kiss)
Word Count: Maybe 1.5k-ish (wrote in app and can’t really check. Was supposed to be a quick on but…)
A/N: this is an apology story as my other longer stories still aren’t ready yet. I needed some angst and this idea just popped into my head, soooo, let’s go.
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To say your boyfriend had a bit of a temper was an understatement. It was something he got from his father along with his rich kid entitlement. He wasn’t always like this. He was usually nice. He took great pride in having bagged you for a girlfriend and loved showing you off to people. However he wasn’t stupid. He knew how people looked at you when they thought he wasn’t looking.
Jealous. Your boyfriend was easily jealous. He’d catch guys looking and would be quick to remind them who you belonged to. An angry stare here, smashed glass and punch in the face there, but he’d never taken it out on you.
That was until his father died. Suddenly Harry had even more feelings than he knew how to deal with. Often multiple feelings at the same time. That and the fact he was dying. You weren’t supposed to know, but you’d overheard him talking to Peter about it. He’d been coming around a lot more since Norman had died. He was an old friend from when Harry was a kid. You thought it was good for him, he seemed a little more at ease despite the doom and gloom. You got on well with him too. He was kind and easy to talk to. He seemed to be the only guy Harry didn’t seem threatened by around you. That was until tonight.
You had all gone out for dinner. Harry had seemed off for the whole meal but you thought it was just because of his illness. Heck, maybe his anger was just another part of his illness. He was quiet and logical, all the way through the meal. He often looked between Peter and you as you spoke so easily to one another. You seemed to laugh at every single one of his jokes and Harry could have sworn he saw a particular warmth and sparkle to your eyes.
He was silent the whole cab ride home and kept shrugging you off whenever you asked him what the matter was, his fingers flexing over his knees. When Peter asked the same question he just ignored you both and looked out the window.
You had both said goodnight to Peter when you had gotten out of the car.
“You gonna be okay?” Peter quietly asked you as Harry began to make his way to the front door of the building.
“Yeah, of course.” You nodded. “Good night Peter.” You smiled before quickly following after your boyfriend.
Being in the elevator with Harry felt like being in a pressure cooker, the higher the elevator got to the penthouse, the more tight and constricting the air felt; until you reached the top and he seemingly began to explode.
You watched on as he made a beeline to his Fathers alcohol, knocking back shot of whisky after shot of whisky and shouting about Peter.
“I saw the way he looked at you…. And when he touched you….” He ranted jealously as he paced back and forth across the floor as you sat frozen on the sofa.
You watched as the veins in his neck began to bulge slowly turning a darker shade of green. He was beginning to scare you.
“Harry, maybe I should go home.” You tentatively said standing, grabbing your coat off the arm of the sofa where you had placed it and folding it over your arm.
It was like he fully remembered you were in the room. And not in a good way. His eyes were completely black as they locked onto you. “And you,” he snarled, “you like him back don’t you sweetheart. The way you giggle at his jokes and fix his clothes and-“
“Harry. Harry stop. You’re scaring me.” You tried to say as you stumbled backwards towards the door. You were trying to not make sudden movements, trying to keep your energy calm and placate him long enough to get out the door but it was no good. Harry was gone.
Your back hit a large pillar and he was on you in seconds, his hand around your throat as he began to squeeze. “Harry!” You tried to say but it was difficult with how tightly he was squeezing. You couldn’t breath, you began to make choking noises as your finger nails reached to claw at the back of his hand. “Harry.” Your voice was high pitched and raspy. “I don’t… please.”
There was a loud thud as the front door burst open, Peter rushing in and tackling Harry to the ground. You gasped as oxygen flooded your lungs and your legs gave way, your body collapsing into a heap on the floor. Tears pricked your eyes as your chest heaved, panicked coughs wracking your body. Your vision was patchy as you tried to watch Peter and Harry, wrestling on the ground.
“Harry! Harry!” Peter said as he pinned his friend to the floor. “Harry, look at me! This isn’t you! Stop it,” Harry just kept fighting though, his body writhing underneath Peter’s, but Peter didn’t budge.
“Get off me! I hate you! You’re fucking my girlfriend!”
“Harry!”
“Get off me!”
“Harry this isn’t you. I wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t do that. Harry!”
Harry’s wails were animal like.
You knew you had to do something to help. You remembered the medicine Harry was secretly keeping in his desk drawer. Your legs felt wobbly as you tried to stand, hobbling into his office in the next room. Your fingers were frantic as you opened the desk drawer and took out a vile and fresh needle. You rested your weight against the desk as you readied the shot.
“Peter. Here use this,” you said almost defeated as you made your way back into the other room.
You had no idea how Peter was able to hold down the still thrashing Harry and take the needle from you with such steady hands. Peter wasted no time in pushing the needle into one of the bulging veins in Harry’s neck, quickly administering the medicine that began to take immediate effect. Harry’s body went limp as he calmed, his eyes closing as if he was relishing in the relief. The veins in his neck seemed to settle and the green track marks began to recede.
Peter’s body collapsed to one side on the floor, removing his weight from Harry’s body. When it was evident Harry was out for the count and sleeping off his episode, the brown haired boy finally turned to you.
“Are you okay?” He asked, scrambling across the floor to where you too had collapsed, adrenaline beginning to dissipate.
You groaned slightly as you blinked away your tears and rubbed at the ghostly feeling of Harry’s fingers at your neck. “Ow.” You said hoarsely as Peter’s hands reached out and tilted your chin up and turned you in the light to get a better look at your neck.
“Yeah, that’s gonna leave a mark.” He said.
“I thought you went home.” You croaked.
“Don’t try and talk.” He said. “Come on.” He reached out for your hands and pulled you up off the floor, walking you towards the kitchen where he sat you on one of the stools. He grabbed you a glass of water and told you to take small sips while he put Harry to bed.
“Is he gonna be okay?” You asked when he came back into the room.
“I thought I told you not to try and talk.”
You simply shot him a look in response.
“He’s gonna be fine. Well, he’ll make it through the night anyway.” Implying that although Harry was alive now, Peter might just kill him himself tomorrow for what he had just done to you.
You couldn’t help but look at Peter differently then. He’d saved your life. Harry was about to strangle you to death and he’d saved your life. “Peter?”
He raised his eyebrows at you in a way that said ‘what did I tell you about trying to talk?’ But you ignored him.
“Thank you.” You said, settling for a whisper.
He gave you a small smile. “Come on. Let’s get you to a doctor and get that throat looked at.”
You quickly shook your head no, but instantly regretted it, wincing as your throat protested against the movement. “No Doctor. They’ll report it. I don’t want him getting in trouble.” You tried to say, but your voice became more strained as you tried to get the words out.
“Fine. Fine.” Peter said, raising his arms in front of you in a calming manor, trying to ease the rising panic in your eyes. “Okay. But I am taking you home. And I’m never leaving you on your own with him again.”
“Peter, what he said about-“
Peter shook his head cutting you off. “Not now.”
He wrapped his arm around you as he guided you back through the apartment. He grabbed your coat off of the floor and placed it over your shoulders, before he placed a protective hand to your back once more and lead you out the door.
******
When you got back to your parents apartment, Peter took you all the way up to the door. Your hand froze on the door handle, key halfway to the lock when you turned back to him with tears in your eyes. The reality of the night was finally sinking in. You worried at your lip before you asked, “Will you stay?”
“I uh,” he stammered, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean, what would Harry say?”
“Peter please. I don’t care… I’m scared.” Your voice said vulnerably. “Please.”
His hand reached out to cup your cheek. His thumb smoothing away the tear that rolled down it. “I can’t. I wish I could but I can’t.”
“Because of Harry’s jealousy?”
“Because he’s right.”
His words stun you. They put a stop to your tears as curiosity forms inside you instead. You try to speak but he stops you.
“He’s right to be jealous.”
“Why?” Your voice is a barely audible whisper.
“Because I’m falling for you.”
You’re not sure why you do it. Maybe it’s the shock of everything. Maybe it’s because he saved your life and you feel like you owe him. Maybe it’s because you really did have feelings for him too. But you lean forward and kiss him. It’s short and sweet. Delicate.
His hand hovers at the side of your face. You know he wants more. And if it wasn’t for Harry, if it wasn’t for everything that had just happened he’d take more. But he fights it. And so do you.
You know you shouldn’t ask again, not after you just kissed him, but you are more scared to be alone right now than not say it. “Please stay. I promise I won’t do that again. Just, please don’t leave me on my own.”
He hasn’t got the heart to say no to you again. He simply gives a small nod, his hand indicating for you to open the door, a silent promise that he’d follow.
You both agreed he’d sleep on the cushioned bench under your window. You had gotten him a blanket and pillow before you crawled into bed. You both just stayed there in your positions across the room, staring at each other, you lying down, him just sat, his back leaning against the wall next to the window.
You didn’t know when you had eventually fallen asleep, but when you woke up, Peter was gone and the window had been left slightly open. Your neck felt stiff and all you wanted to do was roll over and forget everything had happened. Everything except for that kiss.
As your lips tingled and a fuzzy feeling settled into the pit of your stomach, you knew one thing for sure. Your boyfriend was a dick and you were definitely crushing on his best friend.
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psithurista · 4 months
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approach shift - epilogue
pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 2.3k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: PIV (protected), sneaky little non-descriptive pegging reference, disGUSting fluff
Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.
a/n: I'll keep it quick: I'm so sorry this took so long, but I just wasn't quite ready to finish it off haha. It's been two years almost to the day since I started writing this (and they've been fucking crazy years) so it feels very strange saying goodbye to these adorable losers. I once again can't even start to express how happy it's made me seeing your reactions to this fic, and I'm endlessly grateful to everyone who took the time to leave a comment or reach out to say hi. I hope you like this last sweet little snippet! x
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SIX MONTHS LATER
“We need to get up,” you say, making no move to do so.
He turns his face from where it’s smushed into the pillow to speak, his eyes still closed. “You first.”
You groan. 
You have no idea what time it is, and your phone is out of reach, but the light through the curtains is blinding like near-noon and Bear’s supposed to be here at 10 to pick you up, so you’re almost definitely cutting it fine.
“Peter.” Your legs are tangled with his, his thigh between yours. He huffs morning breath sleepily into your face in response, reaching a hand out to pat your cheek. 
“Shh.” He shifts, pressing his thigh harder between your legs, skin sticky on skin. You know he’s doing it on purpose; he knows exactly where he’s pressing you. You make a quiet, satisfied noise, then pull away regretfully. 
“Bear’s gonna be here soon and you need to be dressed. She’ll freak if she has to see your ass again.” 
“Mmm. Yeah. I’m up.”
You sit up, and the slow weight of his arm slides off your waist. The bedroom door is open to the living room where you can see the debris left over from your at-home date the night before: the bowl still on the couch with a handful of unpopped kernels still rattling in the bottom, the fairy lights web-stuck across the ceiling still glowing gently and the blown-out candles stuck in pastel wax puddles to the coffee table you’d rescued from the curb a few weeks after moving in together. It’d been unbearably funny watching Peter’s elaborate performance of pretending to struggle under the weight of it on the way back home.
He drags himself out of bed, and you hear the coffee machine gurgling while you start pulling out clothes.
It’s hot and stuffy; the air’s stopped working again sometime in the night, so you screech the window open and prop the broom handle under the frame to keep it there. It’s a precarious solution—more than once, the window’s fallen shut while you’ve been at work, forcing Peter to awkwardly perform a frantic outfit change behind the dumpster in the alley so he doesn’t run the risk of running into one of your neighbours in the elevator. But the rent’s affordable for a pair of research scientists with a dash of supplementary freelance photography cash on the side, and the occasional bags of free food from a grateful shop owner after a thwarted hold-up.
“Should we call about the air?” you wonder out loud through the open door.

 “Don’t worry about it, it’ll be quicker if I just get up on the roof and fix it again myself,” Peter says, his voice stretching out into a yawn halfway through. He appears in the bathroom doorway, still naked, two mugs in his hands. 
You gasp in appreciation as he passes one to you. “God, I love you,” you murmur, taking a sip.
He grins dazedly at you in the mirror, his cheeks flushed. “Is that all it takes, huh? A crappy cup of coffee?”
You turn and slide the mug onto the counter so you can wrap your arms around his waist. “No. You’re cute, too. That helps.”
He kisses you, his thumb and index finger framing your chin. “M’not cute,” he says against your lips, leaning his too-warm body along yours. “M’intimidating as hell. Ask anybody.”
You’d only gotten as far as underwear before he’d interrupted you dressing, and it already feels like there’s far too much in the way between you. “You’re gonna make me late,” you say, reaching down to dig your fingers into the taut swell of his ass. “Gotta get ready.”
“Okay, so keep getting ready,” he says, mouthing at your neck. “You’re the one groping me.”
He’s right; now you’ve started, you can’t seem to stop. You press your hands to the small of his back, drawing him closer. You can feel his cock beginning to harden where his body is pressed against yours, and his tongue comes out to touch at your pulse. He makes a tiny noise in his throat as you slip one hand down between your bodies to wrap loosely around his rapidly-growing erection.
You stroke him once, gently, and he huffs. “I don’t see how this is helping,” he says. 
You hum your response, your resolve melting away as he strokes the back of his knuckles down your spine, making you shiver. “Maybe…” you say.
He ducks his head to kiss first one breast, then the other, your nipples standing hard and sensitive. “Maybe?” he prompts. His fingers brush your hip, coming around to rest just below your navel.
“Maybe, if we’re quick…” you say, biting your lip, pushing your hips upward to try to encourage his hand lower.

“Babe, I can be so quick,” he says, half-groan, half-laughter. He thumbs your labia, spreading you open just a little, so he can touch your clit. “Too quick, even, if you want. Some would say it’s a talent.”
You grin at him, letting go of his cock. “Bed. Now.”
He swings you up into his arms so fast your head spins, practically flinging you onto the bed. 
You sprawl out in front of him, your arms thrown back as he peels your underwear off. “Holy shit,” he says, running his hands down your sides, staring at the expanse of your body. His jaw is slack with longing, and the sight of his adoration never fails to make fresh heat flood your face, even after seeing him staring at you like this so many times.
He kneels down over you, sucking two fingers into his mouth as he does. You hitch your knees up to give him a better angle, and he gently presses a firm thigh between your legs. “How do you wanna…?”
“Condom,” you tell him, running your fingers through his hair, making his eyes roll closed with pleasure. “No mess.”
He holds your lower lip gently between his teeth, and slowly pushes his two slick fingers inside you. You shift your hips up, and he withdraws them both again, using the slip of your arousal to work against your clit. He kneels up a little, so he can palm your breast with his other hand as he bends down to lick the inside of your thighs.
“Oh,” you breathe. His fingers stop circling to push back inside you, just as his tongue works a hot, messy kiss over your clit. You grab handfuls of his hair to try to keep up with the pace he’s setting, but the feeling of your fingers against his scalp only makes him work faster, a weak groan vibrating down through his tongue.
He bends his head lower, so he can lick around where your wetness has started to gather on his knuckles as he keeps pumping leisurely, in and out. It’s so wet you can both hear it, and he works faster, angling his fingers higher, until you’re writhing.
“Peter…come on, please,” you beg, yanking hard at his hair. 
It works to break his concentration, and he scrambles up, leaning down sideways so he can dig around in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. It’s filled with an assorted mix of toys and, stashed further back, Peter’s wrist canisters. The logic had been that anybody who broke into your apartment would be too freaked out by the toys to keep looking in the drawer, but it also meant Peter had to dig through a dizzying array of plugs and lube every time he went out.
You turn your head to the side and see the wistful way he glances at your strap-on, and you click your tongue. “We’re in a hurry, remember? Later.”
“Mmm. I’ll hold you to that,” he says, kissing you again as he rolls the condom smoothly over his cock.
He leans back, propping a pillow under your hips to give himself more leverage. As he sinks inside you, you hold your breath, letting it out slowly.
He groans above you, easing just a millimeter out and then back in, like he can’t help himself. It feels devastatingly good; he’s thick and beautifully hard right against where you need him, and thanks to his mouth, you’re wet enough that you’re ready for him to start moving immediately.  
You hook your ankles together behind his back to pull him in deeper, and he sinks home, fully seated balls-deep inside. You clench your muscles, just to feel as much of him as you can, and he grinds his hips against yours. 
You can feel the tension in his limbs as he draws back and starts to move. You’ll never, ever get sick of how he feels inside you, you think, your mouth open. He’s fucking you so good; his strokes long and firm and perfect.
He cups your ass with his hand to lift your hips even further, shifting the angle once again, and your breath stutters sharply in your throat as the head of his cock catches your g-spot.
“That’s it, right?” he murmurs, his voice wrecked. “Right there? That’s it, babe, c’mon, show me, I wanna see…”
You can’t even respond, your fingers gripping his biceps like his body is your only lifeline. It’s so good, and you’re getting so close, you just need…
“Fuck,” you gasp, high-pitched and panicked as you come, hard and blinding. 
He doesn’t slow down. If anything, he fucks you harder, chasing down his own release as you clench and melt around him. It only takes a few more moments before his cock jerks inside you and he curses, collapsing the hot weight of his body on yours.
You pant together, sweaty and spent. His cheek is crushed to yours, and he turns his face just enough to kiss any part of you he can reach—the top of your shoulder, your forehead, the tip of your ear.
When you manage to drag your eyes open, you find his huge doe-brown eyes already looking at you. “Good?” he whispers, kissing your shoulder again.
You smile at him, feeling drunk and dizzy. “So good,” you tell him.
You’re still wrapped up in each other like idiots when he jolts hard as though startled. You’re confused for about half a second, before the buzzer from downstairs goes off. 
“Oh, shit,” you hiss, scrambling out of bed.
“You get ready,” Peter says, somehow already dragging on a pair of sweatpants. The speed and dexterity with which he’s able to dress never ceases to amaze you. “I’ll stall.”
You’re stepping out of the fastest shower of your life when you hear the squeaky door to your apartment opening.
“Hey, Bear,” Peter’s voice says.
“Hey, Parker. Your shirt’s inside-out,” she says. 
You lean the naked top half of your body around the bathroom door to wave at her. “Hey, sorry, I just got out of the shower. I need like, three minutes to get dressed.”
She clicks her tongue, but doesn’t look overly annoyed as she flops onto the couch. “It’s hot as shit in here,” she says cheerfully, swinging her feet up onto your coffee table. 
You can hear her and Peter chatting as you hurriedly get ready; he asks her about Krista, she asks him about his aunt. Unsurprisingly, Bear and May had hit it off in a huge way at your birthday after May had excitedly demanded to know everything about the play Bear was auditioning for.
You give yourself a quick once-over to make sure you look presentable before you duck out into the living room. Peter and Bear have moved onto once again arguing about music; Peter’s on Blur’s side, Bear’s on Oasis’. 
You give them both a sideways look. “I’m not getting involved in this,” you say, checking to make sure your keys are in your bag. “But I’m just saying, in a real fight, Liam Gallagher would kick Damon Albarn’s ass any day of the week.” Peter grins at you from behind the counter, where he’s attempting to clean the disaster left in the kitchen from dinner last night.
“Oh, my God,” Bear says, looking you up and down. “Why do you look so worked up? Were you guys just fucking? Like right now?”

 Peter can’t turn away fast enough to conceal his snort, and you make a face at her. “It’s called caffeine. Come on, we’ll be late.”
Peter waves at her. “Say hi to Krista.”
“You should come with us, next time you get a night off work,” Bear says, helping herself to a stick of gum from the packet on the bench.
“Bye,” you say, leaning in to wrap your arms around Peter’s waist. “Be careful,” you add quietly, leaning up to kiss him.
He grins. “Always am.” He kisses you back, slow and gentle, before letting you go.
Bear shakes her head. “You guys are so gross. Later, Parker.”
Peter trails you to the door so he can close it behind you. Bear’s a few feet ahead of you, and you don’t mean to linger, but you can’t help but look back one last time as you go.
Peter’s leaning in the door, a dish rag over his shoulder. His hair’s chaotic from where you’d run your fingers through it, and his cheeks are still a little pink with warmth. 
As you watch, his eyes crease at the corners. “Love you,” he mouths, too quiet for Bear to hear. He still has the cutlery in his hands he’d been drying before you walked out; two knives, two forks. 
You can feel your face splitting into a smile you’re sure must be even goofier than his. You hold his gaze, and as Bear drags you away, you’re missing him already.
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cosmal · 1 year
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okay tasm!peter parker thought!!! he’s obsessed with touching your face. like, when you’re talking about something he’ll just randomly grab your face and smoosh your cheeks. he’ll boop or kiss your nose at random times. most importantly, when he’s kissing you he’ll be holding your face, his big hands on your cheeks guiding your head so he can kiss you better. omg
doughnuts
summary you're really excited about doughnuts. peter really wants to kiss you.
content tasm!peterparker x fem!afab!reader
note this is my first time writing for tasm!peter please forgive me if it sucks.
For the first time in a while, you come home after work with enough excitement to light up the entire flat.
Peter's sitting up in his bed reading when you find him. All things soft with rumpled hair, his clothes even worse, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. You're not sure if he really needs them anymore, but he likes to wear them to keep an ounce of normalcy.
"Hi," you chirp when he notices you. He dog-ears his book and puts it down almost immediately. You beam.
"Hi, baby," he seems just as happy to see you as you do him. Though, there's a buzz to you that Pete lacks. You think if you got home twenty minutes later he would've been napping.
You move across his room while pushing your work skirt down your legs. Peter's heart skips when it looks like you might trip and he tries to keep his eyes off your soft thighs. You rifle through his draws to find one of his shirts to wear, unbuttoning your own blouse in the process.
"How was your day?" you ask, holding up a shirt to your nose. You choose it because it smells more like your boyfriend than the others.
Peter crumples his face, trying not to laugh. "It was good. Didn't do much - you?"
You say something while pulling the shirt over your face that Pete can't discern. You all but jump into his lap when you reach him. Hooking your thighs over his lap until you're face to face.
He allows you to get comfy, pushing your knees into his side while he sits up, hands finding their place on your hips. "Hello," he says again, much quieter now that you're in his space. You look adorable in his shirt and your work tights.
"Did you hear me?" you ask, basically pulsing with giddy energy. You push your fingers under the hem of his shirt and he short-circuits for a moment.
He blinks. "You had your face in your shirt."
"Right," you giggle, a girlish sound that Peter wants seared in his brain, "I said, you know the food truck around the block?"
"You'll have to be more specific," he says, squeezing at your hips.
"The one that shut down."
"Oh, right. The Jam Van," he laughs knowingly. You'd moped for almost a month when they closed. You were inconsolable.
"Yeah," you grin, poking his chest, "yeah, they reopened!"
You're smiling so hard Peter worries that you'll get stuck like that. With your eyebrows raised and your cheeks appled. He thinks he needs to hold your face like right now.
He lets his hands leave your hips and raises them to hold your cheeks. Your skin is warm under his touch like he expected. "That's great, baby."
You ignore his hands. "Right? It's amazing."
Peter pushes your cheeks together until your lips pout outwards. He thinks you look extremely cute. Even worse when you try to frown and it just looks like a smooshed mess. He wants to laugh but you look peeved.
"Pete," you try to say. It comes out all mumbled.
"Yeah?" he says, distracted by your puffy face.
You pull your face from his hands and struggle a bit. Holding his arms to his chest you say, "Are you even listening to me?"
"The Jam Van," he says nodding. Smarmy.
"Right," you say, still mildly upset, "they're open right now if you wanna..."
"You wanna go get doughnuts?" he asks with his arms still pinned to his body. His hands wriggle to touch you.
"Can we?" you ask, eyes wide with hope. Peter wishes he had his camera with him.
"Can I kiss you first?" he grins boyishly. You wish you had a better resolve. He's awfully pretty and you really want doughnuts.
You let his arms go, huffing like kissing him is a difficult task. "If you really want." You have to hold back a laugh.
He reaches his hands back up to your cheeks and gives them another squeeze, "Of course, I want to."
You let him guide your face down to meet his lips, huffing into his mouth once they meet. You go lax in his lap when he presses firmer, spreading his fingers over your warming cheeks. He tilts your face upwards so he has better access to slip his tongue in your mouth. You whine when he has you exactly where he wants. Putty in his hold, holding you close by your soft cheeks.
You pull away from his lips, blinking away the dizziness. "Pete," you say panting.
Peter licks his lips, "Yeah?"
You push your face into his neck to hide the way he so obviously makes you feel, holding onto his sleep shirt for dear life. You try to even out your breathing and fail.
"You okay, love?" he asks. There's a hint of smartassery you don't miss. He's awful.
"Yeah," you say a tad breathlessly. "Yeah."
He kisses your shoulder and you shudder. His ego swells tenfold. "You sure?"
You take a moment to compose yourself, hating yourself for being so pliable. You sit back to look him in the eye. "So," you say with a confidence you lack, "Jam Van?"
Peter laughs and catches your face again. You like it much more than the first time. "That felt like coercion ."
"You asked to kiss me!" you say bewildered, pushing at his chest with not enough force than you feel is deserved.
"You tricked me," he laughs with you, letting you paw at his chest. It's quite adorable, really.
"Whatever," you say with more heat than you mean, a smile tugging at your red lips. You untangle yourself from his lap and stand to walk away. "I'll get my own jam doughnuts."
Peter smacks your ass before you can get away and you gasp. "Peter Parker!"
"You can't go out like that."
"I'll do what I like!" you call from the other end of the hallway.
Peter chases you around the flat until he gets you in his arms. The doughnuts wait for a few more hours.
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weird-is-life · 2 months
Text
My saviour
Pairing: tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader
Summary: Peter saves you from guy, that keeps bothering you at a party
Warnings: use of y/n, mentions of alcohol, creep not taking a no for an answer, harassment...., mentions of partying, swear words
Words: 1k
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You thought, that going to your first university party to a local club with your roommates would be a good idea. But being here now, shows you, that it really wasn't.
Your roommates have disappeared out of your sight and you can't seem to find them, no matter how hard you try.
And believe me, you try hard. Because there's this drunk guy following you around and no matter how you hard you try to get rid of him, he seems to not understand that you're not interested.
You start panicking. The creep is still a few steps behind you and you don't know what to do. You stop for a second, contemplating on whether you should just start screaming or just run away.
Your train of panicking thoughts gets interrupted, when a hand wraps around your wrist. It's a soft, a little calloused hand that holds your wrist gently. Still, you flinch hard and panic even more, thinking the creep is the one holding you.
You're wrong, fortunately.
"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay, it's okay, yeah? Just play along, okay?" The guy, or more like a boy your age holding your hand, whispers quickly to your ear.
You don't even have the time to respond or to get a better look at the boy, you just nod and swallow the lump in your throat, as the creep nears you.
The boy pulls you closer to him, putting his body in front of you.
"Can I help you?" the boy sternly snarls at the creep.
"No, I just want to talk to the chick behind you, so fuck off," the creep says back, words slurring from the alcohol.
"Oh, you mean my girlfriend?" the boy says, squeezing your hand in reassurance and you almost choke as he says it, you weren't expecting it.
"Your girlfriend? You're kidding right?" the creep chuckles dryly, clearly not believing a word the boy says.
"No, not kidding," even if you can't see the boy's face, you are 100 percent sure, that his glare must be deadly, " so you should fuck off, got it?"
When the creep doesn't immediately run away, the boy adds," get lost or I'll make you." Finally the creep gets some sense into his stupid head, when he understands, that he wouldn't stand a chance against the boy towering over him.
"Whatever," the creep mutters, turning around he starts to leave, swaying from one leg to another, drunkenly.
"Fucking dickhead," you hear the boy mutter under his breath angrily.
But as soon as he turns to look at you, there are no traces of anger on his face as he smiles softly at you.
"Sorry," he tells you," are you okay?"
You finally can get a better look at him and god, to say he's very good-looking would be an understatement. You think, he might be the cutest guy you've ever seen.
"I-I-I....I'm okay, " you let out a big sigh of relief, " thank you so so much. I didn't know what to do."
"Don't thank me, everybody would do the same," definitely not everybody, but you don't tell him that. You just give him a shy smile, you're still trying to calm your racing heart.
He kindly smiles back at you," are you sure, you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. Just a little shaken up, I guess, " you confess, fiddling with the sleeve of your t-shirt.
"Do you want me to call you somebody?" You shake your head as a no.
"Really?" he asks, trying to make sure, you're really okay.
"Yes, really. My roommates are here somewhere," you look around nervously, obviously they are still nowhere to be found and you don't feel like staying here alone again.
He can see your nervousness, he would be kind of bad at his job, if he didn't notice little things like this.
So he ask you sheepishly and too nicely, "would like to get a drink with me?" He blurts it out, but when he realises how it sounds. Like he's trying to take an advantage of the fact, that you should thank him for saving you in some way, which you definitely shouldn't. He would never, ever want you to be thankful for something like this.
"I'm sorry, I mean, just like to get a soda or something, just until we find your friends." Oh. He's definitely too nice, he's willing to stay with you however long you need, even if you've never seen each other before, just because you're anxious and worried.
"Y-you don't need too...." you mumble, you don't want to bother him any more. Even if you'd really like him to stay with you.
"I don't mind, like at all," he gives you another one of his soft, kind smiles, that has you nodding bashfully with a smile of your own.
"Okay, great. C'mon, I'll find us something, that hasn't been spiked with an alcohol yet," he chuckles, " Oh and I'm Peter by the way."
"I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you, Peter," you tell him. And Peter's sure, he's fucked, the minute his name leaves your mouth.
When you eventually find your roommates, you are sad to say goodbye to Peter. You exchange numbers, with Peter's promise of texting you.
Which he keeps, he texts straight away. The minute you get into the taxi to head home, your phone vibrates with a new notification. You smile stupidly at it for the rest of the ride home.
Peter, totally on accident (not really), bumps into the creep as he swings home, fully dressed in him Spiderman suit.
And he maybe, but only maybe, threatens the guy, saying, if he ever again bothered any girl or anybody else at all, the Spiderman would find him and he would make sure, that the guy would rot in a prison cell for a long, long time.
And Peter did it with a pleased, menacing smile, even if he knew, that the guy wouldn't even remember it in the morning......
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headkiss · 1 year
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hey can i pls request peter with a gf who’s scared of spiders??
hiii this idea is so cute i hope u like it (sorry it’s a shorter one!!) | 0.4k of fluff and a spider !
“Peter!” You all but shriek from the bathroom.
Being who he is, the hairs on his arms and that back of his neck raise, his senses dig deeper to find any sort of danger. He doesn’t feel anything. He runs to you all the same.
“Bug? What’s wrong?”
“There’s a spider on the wall,” you point, wrapped in your towel post-shower, which is enough to distract him for a moment.
“Just a spider?” He tries not to smile or laugh. He has to cover his mouth with his hand.
It’s ironic, you being so afraid of spiders and dating Spider-Man himself. What a trip. As much as he teases you for it, he can’t deny feeling proud of himself every time he takes a spider out of the apartment in a glass with a spare bit of paper held over the opening. He’s just happy to help you.
“It’s not ‘just’ a spider, Peter. It’s a huge one.”
You can't even bring yourself to look away from it. Like as soon as you look away, it’ll pounce on you.
“Okay. It’s fine, I’ll get it out.”
He rushes to grab his usual supplies, and walks over to the wall where the spider sits slowly, trying not to startle it. You hold your towel to yourself tightly, wince at the sight of the creature bugging you.
“It’s looking at me,” you say.
“‘Cause you’re pretty.”
“Peter.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m getting it.”
He places the cup over it carefully, and you let out a small squeal when it moves around inside.
The first time Peter had to save you from a spider, he was prepared to smush it with the nearest object he could find. He only didn’t because you’d stopped him saying, ‘don’t kill it! It’s your relative!’
He couldn’t hold in the laugh at that, though you genuinely sounded concerned. He just thinks you’re the cutest ever.
Now, he slides the paper beneath the cup, a technique he’s had to master especially while living with you, and begins to carry the spider away to the widow of your fire escape. As soon as it’s outside, he shuts the window and turns to look at you, still in your towel, shuffling on your feet and shivering just a bit.
“All done, bug,” he says, walking over to you and rubbing his hands up and down your upper arms for warmth. “How about you get dressed and we can watch a movie?”
You lean your head against his chest just for a moment, careful not to get his shirt wet with your hair, “thanks, Peter. Best boyfriend and spider remover ever.”
“Can I have an award for that?”
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