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psithurista · 5 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

series masterlist

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.

#peter parker x f!reader #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x f!reader #tasm!peter parker imagine #peter parker imagine #peter parker smut #tasm!peter parker smut #tasm fanfiction #tasm smut #peter parker x you

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hlvstia · 10 months

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— too late :(

prompt : peter’s laptop dies while you two were doing a very important project for a class. ( from https://perchance.org/otp--prompts ) safe link! /srs

word count : 393, very short!

a/n : can be any mcu peter, but i’ll be using tom’s 🤍. also, feel free to submit me a prompt with any character! i’d love to get back in writing and fulfilling your requests. love u all!

drabble below the read more cut, enjoy loves!

as you two were doing a project for this class, it practically ended up with both of y’all arguing— only because peter wouldn’t listen to you and placed notes everywhere. they weren’t organized and it kind of ticked you off.

“no, idiot! that’s supposed to go here!” you exclaimed, pushing peter off of his seat as you took the laptop from his hands, moving the cursor to where you placed the text box to where it was supposed to be. “[y/n]!”

he scoffed, getting back up from his seat as he took his laptop back, scanning over the newly designed slides. “it looks the same as before… are you kidding me?” peter rolled his eyes, noticing how his cursor was lagging behind.

this only meant one thing.

it meant that his laptop was about to die and their slides weren’t going to backup any of the info they had worked hard on. “oh, shit!”

he began panicking, jumping off of his seat as he started to rummage through his bag, obviously worried that their process was going down the drain if he didn’t find the charger.

your face dropped into an expression as you ran to your room, going through your closet as you looked for a specific charger, throwing down some old boxes just to find the right plug.

“where is it?!” mumbling to yourself, you panicked as well, not wanting your hard work to fail only because peter forgot to charge his laptop AND turn on his backup savings.

finally, you found it! thank goodness.

“peter, i have it!” you exclaimed, having a large grin on your face as you rushed back to the area, only to see a defeated look on his face. it was too late to come to the rescue.

“no way…”

“yes way…” he sighed, shutting his laptop slowly as he placed his head down onto the cold counter. “well… you shared the slides with me, right?”

you had this burning hope that he had at least shared it with you. i mean, everyone does that when you end up in a project with your classmate, right?

peter still had a defeated look, shaking his head as he sighed out loud, even adding a groan.

it was over for you two.

“for fucks sake…” you sighed as well, throwing the charger onto the couch. “we’re totally fucked.”

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nickgoesinsane · 11 months

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I'm feral for Andrew Garfield's peter. Like, insanely feral. To me, he solos. Like just imagine ftm! Peter but with him🛐🛐🛐

Anyways, have a good day/night. ❤️

-👾

Oh Peter 3, my beloved.

Fingering him after a tiring day of being Spider-Man, he’s just gushing over your fingers and whimpering into your neck while you kiss his forehead. Pretty boy begs you to fold him in half and fill him up.

#╰┈➤ nick answers !#spiderman brainrot #dom reader #top reader #sub character #sub peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #n/sfw #n/s/f/w #👾 anon !

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mortwig · 1 year

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Sparks Fly

Entry for the amazing’s @withahappyrefrain “Dicked Down December”. Written for the loveliest and kindest person ever born: @ouralcohol

18+ EXPLICIT [minors DNI] - Peter Parker fanfic

Words: 5,2k

Pairing: fem!reader* x Peter Parker (based on TASM!Peter but flexible)

Summary: Friends/Co-workers to Lovers, Christmas vibes

Tags: 18+ explicit, strangers to work besties to lovers, so much fluff, smut (only in the Epilogue though), nudity, vaginal sex, oral sex (both F receiving), all characters are 18+.

Song inspo: Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift

Moodboard: here

“I hadn’t realised we needed a new PE teacher?” you mentioned casually, while taking a bite of your sandwich. You and your work bestie, Kayla, were sitting under the shade of some trees, hiding from the hot late summer sun. Children were running around playing tag, sometimes even using you as cover.

Kayla looked up quickly, mild panic on her face. The principal was with a tall, dark-haired man, pointing to the different facilities from the other end of the playground. “Tan pronto?” she whispered under her breath.

You looked at her quizzingly. Kayla always wore her heart on her sleeve. She was never good at hiding emotions, and right now was no exception. She took a deep breath and, looking down at her shoes, said:

“I’ve been offered to be vice-principal in a different school… And I’ve said yes. I guess that guy must be my replacement.”

“Kayla, that is amazing! Enhorabuena!” You went to hug her, but she turned, tears welling up in her eyes.

“The job is in Florida.”

Your face dropped, and your arms did too, now hanging uselessly at your sides. The tears were also making an appearance on your face.

“I’m sorry.” She managed before the sobs overtook her.

You looked at her for a long moment before pulling her into a hug.

“I’m not. You’ve needed a change for a long time and this sounds like an amazing opportunity. I’m proud of you for taking this step. And I’ll be visiting. Often. You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

It turned out that Kayla’s replacement as a science teacher was a guy from New York called Peter Parker. Rumour had it he was running away from something, or someone, back home. But when you asked, he just gave a vague response about him “also needing a change”. You didn’t press any further. After all, we all have our demons.

He caught on pretty quickly to the bond you and Kayla had, and it was as though he could feel your pain. Every time you felt the sadness creeping in, he would pop by with a question about school protocols or class locations.

Some petty part of you wanted to dislike him. He would never replace Kayla. He was just some guy. And the truth was, he didn’t replace her. But instead, he filled a void you didn’t know you had. You and Kayla had bonded over good food, Top Gun, and fanfiction of some superhero or other. You’d cook and then be lazy together, laughing and fawning over hot fictional guys and celebrities. Peter was different, he was intent on learning Spanish and he convinced you to go on runs together so he could practice his pronunciation. After endless conversations about anything ranging from soccer to Taylor Swift lyrics, by Thanksgiving you were essentially inseparable.

“Listen up, team! This year, it’s the music department’s turn to organize the staff Christmas party.”

You saw at least four people near you stifle a disappointed groan. The music department was composed of three very extra teachers who were known for the most extravagant ideas and an obsession with glitter for some reason. You wondered if they’d magically found each other or if joining the group implied a transformation into whatever they had going on.

Diana, the oldest of the three, stepped up, hands clasped in an effort to hide her excitement.

“We have a very special evening prepared for all of you. Unfortunately, the PE department wasn’t okay with us using the gym because, I quote ‘it’s a bitch to clean up, and you’ll be too hangover to do it’. So we’ve had to move the location to the old Victorian house at the end of the road that turns out is owned by Michael’s great aunt and which has been recently renovated in an effort to rent it out to tourists next summer.”

Diana’s gossiping and oversharing was nothing new, and most of the staff were only half listening by this point.

“The theme is Christmas fairytale. You must adhere to the theme. If you do not, you will be banned from the bar area. You have been warned.”

“Oh my god.” You whispered. “They did it. They figured out how to get people to put in some effort. Threaten them with an alcohol-free Christmas party.”

Peter giggled under his breath next to you. It didn’t matter how many times you heard that stupid laugh of his, it still made your heart skip a beat. It was like hearing a song you loved as a child that you’d forgotten about. Like the gasp of excitement at the arrivals lounge of an airport on the 24th of December, when someone sees that person they’ve been missing for ages. Like the pop of a champagne cork celebrating a long-awaited pregnancy over Christmas dinner. Like the crinkle of wrapping paper around a perfectly chosen present. It was a simple sound, but it filled you with pure, soul-warming joy.

You didn’t dare look his way though, because he might notice a slight red tinge to your cheeks, a vague indication of a simmering feeling trying to find its way out of your chest, one way or another.

“Kayla, I don’t want to go…”

“You’ve said that seven times in the last hour. I’ve been counting.” Kayla had her phone up by her stove and was making something that, you assumed, smelled as delicious as it looked. Her hands were on her hips, in a proper scolding teacher pose.

“But it’s true…” You pouted, sitting back on the mattress. The numerous layers of fabric of the dress you were trying on covered most of the bed.

“What exactly is the problem? We’ve already decided that the dress is beautiful and on theme, you’ll get enough alcohol to endure Sarah’s incessant bickering, you can watch Jerry make a fool of himself on the dancefloor after four tequilas, and most importantly: you can collect intel on all the new flings that form under the glittery mistletoe that these guys have undoubtedly hung in every dark corner.”

“But it won’t be any fun without you…”

“You have a new friend now!”

“He’s no you.”

“No, he’s way hotter.” Kayla raised her eyebrows and smirked at you through the phone screen.

“Shut up.” you replied, rolling your eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“Why not though?”

“Because… I’m not looking for anything right now.”

“Come on… You’ve ‘not been looking for anything’ for years now. Isn’t it time to have some fun? Or at the very least, some drama to entertain your best friend?”

“You’re the worst. Peter and I are on track to become good friends. If I lose him over a silly infatuation, I’ll be even lonelier without either of you. Not worth it.”

“HA! I knew it! I knew you liked him.”

You instantly regretted your wording, but there was no time to discuss it further. The doorbell rang and with a quick “Gotta go, bye!” the call was over and you were clumsily slipping out of the dress.

“Coming!!” you shouted as you slipped on an oversized hoodie. Hopefully it was the delivery guy with that cute light-up Christmas jumper you’d ordered two weeks ago.

But when you opened the door, Peter was standing there, looking absolutely dashing. Because the truth was, what you told Kayla was a “silly infatuation” was in fact a full-on raging crush. And it had been going on for weeks now.

The way you thought about him switched in your brain right after Thanksgiving. You had a very bad brain day. You didn’t mean for things to escalate, and you certainly didn’t mean to cry in front of him, but all the emotions you had been bottling up exploded and all sorts of negative thoughts appeared all at once.

And he’d said nothing, because there was nothing to be said. You didn’t want to hear another “it’ll be okay” or another “it’ll pass”, and he didn’t say those words. Instead, he hugged you and held you for a minute, five, half an hour, forty-five minutes. While you just cried and cried and cried. And then when you stopped sobbing, he took your hand, took you to the nice bar down the road, bought you a smoothie and told you about the movies that he and his aunt May and uncle Ben used to watch every single Christmas.

Since then, every one of his smiles held a different meaning and every one of his light touches to your arm stung like an electrical discharge. And while you knew nothing could happen -should happen- between you, you couldn’t stop yourself from imagining a life with him, your mind racing with images of picket fences and golden retrievers and children running around the living room.

“Hello…” Peter was still standing in front of you, his eyes wide in both confusion and worry. How long had you been standing there, staring into the void, thinking about how in love you were?

“Peter!” You blurted out.

“That’s me…”

You continued to stare blankly at him, your brain refusing to cooperate as your heart raced at the sight of his unruly hair sticking out in twenty different directions.

“I’m not one to judge anyone’s fashion sense, but I have to say I’m surprised that you chose the mustard stain look to go to Taylor Swift karaoke.”

“Wasn’t that Thursday?”

“Darling, today’s Thursday…” If your brain was short-circuiting before, his use of the endearing term sent it into overdrive and you felt light-headed for a second. You recovered quickly though, you’d had enough breakdowns in front of him for what was left of the year.

“Fuck.”

Despite the facts finally falling into place in your brain, you still didn’t move. So, Peter gently placed his hands on your shoulders and moved you to the side, stepping into your hall.

“You go get changed, I’ll grab the tickets. Where can I find them?”

“Yes, right, sorry.” You shook your head, coming back to Earth. “I think they’re stuck to the fridge. Otherwise… Somewhere on the counter, I guess. I’m sure you’ll find them eventually.”

You ran upstairs to your bedroom, your ballgown still covering most of your floor space. You didn’t really have the time to curate an outfit so you took the most basic black dress and the first pair of nice shoes you could find. It hadn’t even been ten minutes and you were back by the front door, keys in hand, coat on.

“Okay, I’m ready. Sorry about that.”

“You have a very messy place.”

“Not usually, I don’t… It’s just been a messy few weeks.” Messy in your head, you meant. Because it had been a long time since your heart had been in such a fit of emotion that it neglected all responsibilities. Like the night before, when you’d ignored the pile of dirty dishes and instead opened a bottle of wine and wrote self-indulging friends-to-lovers fanfiction that was definitely not a vivid daydream of Peter and you.

“I like your wall art, by the way…” You felt him looking at you from the corner of his eye as you locked the door and headed towards your car. “Spiders, huh…?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, spiders…”

“What’s so funny about spiders?” Did he sound almost… offended?

“Nothing actually. I used to be very scared of them. I sometimes am, still. But that wall art is part of my journey of getting over my fears, and it’s also a reminder of what I’m capable of if I get my mind to it.”

You glanced his way. He looked equal parts confused and in awe.

“Sorry, that was way too deep.” You cleared your throat, suddenly a bit overwhelmed and ashamed of your oversharing. “What do you want to sing first? I say we start with a classic, something from Speak Now maybe?”

Peter was still just staring at you. He didn’t laugh though, he didn’t even look uncomfortable. He seemed just… curious. After what seemed like an eternity in your over-thinking brain, he finally spoke slowly:

“Perhaps ‘Sparks Fly’.” He didn’t take his eyes off your face, studying you, your reaction, the way your eyes widened ever so slightly before you could put on your best neutral expression.

“A bop. Sounds good.”

You tossed and turned in bed, running through the events of the evening in your mind. Aside from the rocky start, it had been generally uneventful. Or so you tried to tell yourself. Because really, was there much to pinpoint that would make it different from any other meet-up with friends? There had been his hand gently touching your waist on your way into the bar. How he twirled you on your way to get a drink because someone was singing Lover. How he’d made his way to the bartender and winked at you when he got your order right within the first guess. And a million other tiny things. But above all, more than every other little gesture of kindness and every other possible indication of flirting, there had been Sparks Fly. How he’d held your hands throughout the chorus, and how he’d stared deep into your eyes and ran your hands through your hair at the start of the bridge. You’d expected him to laugh it off, to say he was just joking. Anything, any indication that there was not something weird going on between you. But he hadn’t. And now you were left wondering if maybe it was reciprocal. If he also felt the butterflies, the tension, the tug at his heart to kiss you when he leaned in to help you open your front door that always gets a bit stuck in the evenings. He said nothing. You said nothing. And you supposed life went on, same same but different.

As usual, you’d miscalculated how much time you would need to get ready and you were running late. You still had to do hair and make-up and you were supposed to meet Peter in ten minutes. You sighed heavily as you sat down in front of your mirror, phone in hand.

> Running late

> I’ll meet you there

> You sure?

> I don’t mind waiting

> Yeah sure

> You’ll just stress me out

> I would never

You giggled at the glassy-eyed cat sticker on your screen.

You hated – hated – getting to events alone. It was so awkward. Even if you knew everyone there, and you got along well with most of them. That feeling of having to find a conversation to engage in, those first few minutes. They were awful.

The hall was empty when you arrived so you sneaked a selfie in the huge vintage mirror that decorated one of the walls. You sent it to Kayla. After all, the outfit had been chosen with her. You were wearing a huge puffy white and ice-blue dress that shimmered magically under the light. A delicate mistletoe wreath on your head and some angel wings completed the look. “A Christmas angel-fairy”, Kayla called it.

You followed the noise to what must have been the dining room, but which had been turned into a ballroom. You gasped at how magical it looked. The renovated ceiling had been decorated with thousands of tiny lights that gave the room a warm glow and made everything look ethereal. The heavy red velvet courtains were drawn, and two fireplaces were lit. Christmas trees stood in every corner, decorated with classic red ornaments and gold tinsel. A bar had been set up at the end of the room, by a band that was playing a cover of Ayo Technology. They had several big bowls full of smoking drinks, and a guy dressed as an elf was mixing drinks for a very happy-looking admin team.

You looked around for Peter, in hopes of going straight to talk to him instead of having to engage in small talk with colleagues you weren’t nearly drunk enough to deal with. It might have worked, had he not been standing at the opposite end of the room. He was wearing black suit and trousers, a flowery midnight blue vest and a beautiful matching cape that brushed the floor with his every move. And… was that an eye patch? What even was that costume?

It took you close to half an hour to make your way to him, which included, amongst others: four compliments on your dress, one joke about the mistletoe on your head by Olivia from admin, and several questions about how Kayla was doing in Florida.

“What is that supposed to be? Santa’s ocean affairs delegate, pirate Parker?”

Peter scoffed, and even before he turned, he already shot back:

“Excuse you, you uncultured ignorant. I’m uncle Drosselmeyer from the Nutcracker. And this cape took a week to make, so be nice.”

Your eyebrows shot up. He’d never mentioned an interest in ballet, let alone in sewing.

When he finally took a look at you, he let out a low whistle. “Damn, you look stunning.” He took your hand and twirled you slowly, admiring the outfit from all angles. “I didn’t know you vibed with long gowns and angelical accessories.” His cheeks were slightly redder than usual, and you couldn’t tell if he’d already had a couple of drinks or if he was somewhat flustered.

“It seems we still have a lot of things to learn about each other.” You muttered under your breath.

You really thought you’d said it quietly. The room was loud enough that you had to speak up to hear and be heard. Yet Peter leaned in closer, your cheeks almost touching, and whispered just loud enough that you almost weren’t sure if it had been your imagination:

“I can’t wait.”

You took a step back in surprise, but he’d already turned to one of the arts and crafts teachers to compliment her elaborate hairdo with little golden bells sticking out of it. People really went all out when alcohol was on the line. You were no exception. You headed right to the bar.

You danced, you talked, you drank, you laughed. You even cried once in the bathroom after you saw Kayla’s supportive messages in response to your picture from earlier.

It was almost midnight and you were positively drunk. The kind of happy drunk that gives you just a little too much confidence and a lot of courage. So when the band’s guitar player started playing the first few notes of Love Story, you ran to Peter so you could sing it together at the top of your lungs.

His eyepatch long gone and his hair messier than ever, you could tell he was also drunk. His casual touches were becoming more frequent. His eyes lingered in yours for longer. His smile was cheekier. His whispers more intimate. And, in your inebriation, you felt that spark between you stronger than ever. As if you could almost see it if you focused on the narrowing space between you.

It still came as a surprise when the band got to the outro and he put both his hands on your waist and pulled you close.

“Let’s go outside for a minute.”

He must have been exploring the house earlier because, instead of taking you out through the front door, he led you upstairs through the beautiful staircase in the hall, his hand firmly around yours. You looked around dreamily, your eyes hazy. Whatever the music department had done with the party, you had to give them that it truly felt like a Christmas fairytale. Through a few doors, you were out on a balcony, overlooking the backyard of the house which was also decorated and lit with a range of Christmas decorations.

You stood there, looking out at the beautiful scenery around you. For a minute, you forgot you were there with Peter, you were just drunk and happy and content.

But then Peter let go of your hand. And, as if he was the anchor keeping you from slipping out of your daydream, you looked back at him, concern drawn on your features. Your heart started beating, it felt loud enough that if Peter started talking, you weren’t sure you’d hear him.

“Y/N…”

He searched your face for something, but you were too scared to say anything.

“Listen, I’ll probably regret this when I wake up sober and hungover tomorrow morning…” His voice trailed off, and he cleared his throat, maybe trying to gather enough courage to carry on. “I… I think I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes widened, your mouth agape in shock. You couldn’t form a single word, let alone a full sentence. Seeing how you had been left speechless, Peter continued, trying to fix whatever might have been broken with those few words.

“But I promise I won’t let it affect our friendship. I have a lot of fun with you, I don’t want to lose the best friend I’ve made in years.”

You continued to stare at him, your mind racing but your tongue tied. Ten seconds passed, twenty, maybe thirty, and you said nothing. It must have looked terrible from his perspective. But you couldn’t work out what to say, you were frozen in place.

“I’m so sorry.” He turned and walked back inside, while your hand covered your mouth and you tried to work out what to do. Would you risk the friendship you felt in your bones could be one of the most important ones in your life? Would you risk the awkwardness at work if it didn’t work out? Would you, for a relationship life you always claimed you didn’t want? You already knew what your heart would respond to all those questions: yes, yes, yes. You searched your reason, your cold, calculating brain, for a different answer. But again: yes, yes, yes. How could you not?

Your heels were comfortable but it was still a struggle to run with the voluminous dress.

“Peter wait!” You yelled when you got to the top of the staircase. He was almost downstairs, his cape flowing behind him with every step he took. “I’m sorry!”

He looked back, caution written all over his face.

“I’m sorry.” You repeated as you rushed down. “I don’t want to lose you either, but…” panic replaced every emotion that was rushing through your veins, as you felt one of the silky underlayers of the dress get caught under your toes. In slow motion, you realized Peter was too far down to catch you, but at least you wouldn’t take him down with you. Your wreath went flying off your head as you braced yourself for impact. But the crash against the cold steps never came, only two warm arms holding you firmly.

“But what?”

You looked around in shock, trying to work out how he’d made it up half the staircase in less than a second. “How…?”

“But what?” he insisted, interrupting you. You looked back at him.

“But I’ll risk it all.” You inhaled deeply. “Because I think I’m in love with you too.”

Peter’s relief was obvious, from the way his body relaxed noticeably, and from the smile he flashed at you. He helped you upright so you could gather yourself. You were checking the damage to your dress, partly hiding from the sudden elephant in the room, partly to make sure you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself again.

Once it was obvious you were stalling, Peter cleared his throat. When you looked up, he had an eyebrow raised, and gently nodded up. Hanging about a feet over your heads was your mistletoe wreath. It seemed to be floating mid air but upon closer inspection you realized it was dangling from what seemed to be a spider web.

“How…?” again, it was all you could think to say. But this time, Peter wasn’t so patient. He wrapped his arms around your waist, and pulled you in for a kiss.

EPILOGUE

There hadn’t been much time, Peter left to spend Christmas with his Aunt May in New York. You would also be visiting family.

As for New Year’s… Let’s just say things had worked out nicely and Peter was now running his hands through your hair and kissing your neck and up towards the back of your ear. And oh if he didn’t stop whispering sweet nothings against your skin, you were certain you would melt into goo and dissolve right there on the sofa.

“You are absolutely stunning.”

“Mmh…” You hadn’t been able to form a coherent sentence in the last ten minutes. You just hummed and whimpered while your body reacted to what you could have sworn was electricity passing to and from between the two of you.

Peter reached further down, caressing your back and waist tentatively. He was taking his sweet time and, as much as adored it, you felt a need building up in your core that needed to be met, and it needed to be met soon.

“Let’s move to the bed.” As much of a people pleaser as you usually were, the suggestion came out as a demand, firm and confident. In return, Peter didn’t hesitate, he simply looked into your eyes and picked you up bridal style.

You were impressed by how easily he carried you up the stairs, reminding you that you still hadn’t worked out how he’d managed the sprint up the stairs at the party. But that was a conversation for another moment because Peter was putting you down on the bed and seeking confirmation in your eye as his fingers trailed circles on your thighs. You nodded and he proceeded to run his hands up under your skirt, pulling down the hem of your tights. His hands ran back up your legs to pull your panties to the side. His fingers ran up and down the inside of your thighs as his lips met your clit, giving it a soft kiss before licking up and down and getting to work.

You lost track of time, and you were pretty sure you ascended to an alternate reality at some point, and were only brought back by the tightening coil in your abdomen. Peter switched perfectly between licking, sucking, kneading your thighs and humming against you in satisfaction. It was as if he could hear your heartbeat accelerate and relax with every wave of pleasure, giving him privileged information as to how to act at every precise moment.

But it was only after he put in his index finger inside you that you felt the orgasm incoming.

“Oh, fuck, Peter.”

You felt him smile cheekily against your clit, and you wanted to smack his head. You probably would have if he hadn’t been in charge of your pleasure at the time.

A second finger quickly followed, hitting your G spot at just the right time while your clit remained at his tongue’s mercy.

“Peter!” you whimpered, your right hand gripping his messy hair, while your left hand held onto the sheets for dear life. Your moans filled the room as you rode your high, his fingers maintaining a constant speed throughout your orgasm.

You were panting, still trying to catch your breath, as Peter undid his shirt buttons and helped you out of your dress.

“I cannot stress this enough; you are gorgeous.”

You peeked through your half-closed eyelids only to find him standing there, admiring your body.

“Beautiful enough to make love to?” Peter’s eyes went dark with desire at the question and you smirked at him.

The remaining clothes that still clung to your bodies were quickly removed and discarded. Peter kneeled between your legs, his hands combing his hair back. He was hard and leaking precum already. The awareness of him being this aroused just from making out with you and eating you out hit you like a train and you spread your legs wider for him.

“Ready?” he asked.

“So ready.” You winked at him and his cheeks turned just a tiny bit redder.

He didn’t rush it, he took his time, letting you adjust to his size. He only started pumping once you nodded at him. Slow, long strokes had you whimpering and squirming as you hid your head in the pillow, self-conscious of all the noises you were making.

“Hey, look at me. Those sounds you’re making are the hottest thing I’ve ever heard but I want to see you too.”

You were flustered, it was as if he could read your mind. But you made an effort and kept looking at him. And oh, was it worth it. He sped up his pace and lowered himself down to his elbows, close enough to kiss you and for you to grab his hair again. God, he had such amazing hair. He was panting, he seemed to be struggling.

“Tired, Parker?” You giggled in his ear.

“No, not at all. I’m just trying very hard not to cum because it would be embarrassing to last literally five minutes and also I want to make you cum at least once more.”

You were taken aback by this display of honesty. You had to admit you’d never been with any straight guy who felt so comfortable admitting stuff like that.

“I can help with that.”

You pushed him back a little, just enough that you could reach into your nightstand drawer and squirt some lube onto your hand.

Peter wasn’t moving, just looking at you in fascination. You reached between your bodies and circled your clit just like you did when you were alone. When your first moan hit his ears, Peter was brought back to Earth and he started pumping into you again. Tentatively at first, but deeper and faster as he gauged your positive reactions.

“I’m so close”, is what you said, but it took you so much effort to string the sentence together that when it came out, you were actually extremely close. So close that the next thrust from Peter’s hips sent you into orbit and you could do nothing but clench around him and hold his arms as if they were your anchors. You were just riding the last few waves of pleasure when you felt his consistent rhythm failing and his face contort. He soon crashed on top of you, both of you panting, completely blissed out.

A sound coming from the outside caught your attention before you could fully relax into each other. You frowned.

“Are those fireworks?” Peter asked. You turned towards your window and, sure enough, you could see colourful lights through the thin courtains.

“It looks like it.” You responded.

“I would have sworn it was 10 pm just ten minutes ago.” He sounded positively confused. You couldn’t help but laugh, one of those laughs that come from the belly, that makes you feel like a child again. And it must have been contagious because Peter started shaking on top of you, laughing quietly into the pillow next to you.

“Happy New Year, Peter.”

“Happy New Year, darling.”

Shout-out to @p3mybeloved for her cameo as Y/N’s best friend ❤️

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker smut #tasm!peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker fluff #peter parker fluff #tasm!peter parker x y/n #peter parker imagine #peter parker x f!reader #dicked down december

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starrykites · 2 years

Text

peter parker x f!insecure!reader

yeah guys this is a self-indulgent fic what about itttt

tw: deppresion and insecurites

you've been in bed all day, not having enough energy or reason to get up. life's been hard recently, you've been stuck in a depressive episode for the past couple of weeks, and you've never felt more insecure in your life.

you can't stop thinking about all those girls from your school and how they look so much better than you. their hair is shinier, their waists are slimmer, they don't have any face fat, and they just all around look so much skinnier than you. peter would look so much better with them, he deserves more than you.

all you want to do is sleep nowadays, so you put your phone down and pull your blanket farther up when you hear the front door open and peter walk in. you listen to him take off his shoes as he makes his way over to your guys' room.

peter lands at the door and knocks, after you don't respond he knocks again, "honey, you in there?"

you mumble a response and he comes through the door. he takes one look at you and a flash of concern washes over his eyes. peter walks forward and sits down on the bed and looks over at you, "are you ok bug?"

you can't find it in yourself to tell him what's wrong and how you're feeling about yourself so you lie to him, "nothings wrong sweetheart, i'm just tired"

peter places his hand on your shoulder, "y/n, please don't lie, i can tell you've been crying. so what's wrong bug?"

you sigh, "you wouldn't understand"

"then help me understand y/n, that's my job, to understand you"

"i just- i can't. peter, i can't deal with any of this shit anymore. why are you even with me I just-"

"why am i even with you?", peter cuts you off, "i'm with you because you're the most beautiful girl i know, you're funny, smart, and there's just so many more amazing things about you that it would take me days to list off all the reasons"

you start tearing up, "i'm not beautiful peter! i'm- i'm so fucking ugly, and you'd look so much better with those girls from our school! why would you ever choose to be with a girl who isn't stick skinny and doesn't have the perfect face when you could be with any other girl?"

by this point, peter looks like he's about to cry, "y/n! why would you ever talk about yourself like that? god!", peter runs his hands through his hair, "you're like the prettiest girl i've ever met! and who the hell cares if you aren't the skinniest! it doesn't matter if you have bigger thighs or a bigger stomach, it just makes you better to cuddle with, and fuck those other girls. i love you y/n, not them"

you look into peters eyes and just start crying into his shoulder, "thank you pete", you start crying a little harder and pull away from peter, "i love you so much"

"have you gotten out of bed at all today bug?", you shake your head no, "ok so you probably haven't eaten or drank anything yet today"

"that would be correct"

lets go get some food into your system then", peter says as he starts to pick you up bridal style.

"peterrrr, put me down", you giggle

he kissed you on the forehead, "not a chance love"

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x you #hurt/comfort #f/o imagines #marvel #peter parker #x reader #deppresed reader #reader insert #insecure reader #peter parker x you #y/n

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the-winter-spider · 2 years

Text

Love You More | Pt.9

TASM!Peter x Reader, Bucky x Reader (past)

word count: 2.4k

A/N: I hate action, i such a writing it so i jumped over most of this fight scene, and i definitely wasn’t gonna follow it to a T either, sooo just pretend it was longer 🤣 and everyone was doing more ahahah im excited for the next part!

Also adding i know i didnt really touch base on the readers powers/abilities but what im thinking is she orginally thought along with everyone else that she could only control the elements, then she started to realize she could do A LOT more like astral projection, ect pretty much her full “unlocking” is she can control all matter/atoms which is pretty much means everything and anything, so she powerful af, ill explain it better later!

Not edited or proof read

I rushed this one

Masterlist(coming soon) | Masterpost

“Are you guys almost done?” You shouted

“Yeah just placing the last one”

“Cool cool” You say as you lean over the scaffolding, your Peter jumps down, perching up top. As the other two land beside you. You turned to face Peter, your universe's Peter “Y’know I dont think Steve would’ve liked this” You smiled gesturing to the construction of the shield at the statue of liberty.

“It really is a big honour” Peter smiled

The eldest Peter chipped it “This guy must of been really something for them to do all this for”

You missed Steve more than you allowed yourself to and you hated yourself for not saying goodbye but you could never bring yourself to. How could you look at Steve and tell him you were happy for him when you were jealous he got to grow old with the person he loved, he got to live out the timeline you were all supposed to. You were so pathetic you couldn’t mask that jealousy for a 30 minute visit. But at the same time you liked having your last memory of Steve be the Steve you knew, because that Steve that came back was no longer your Stevie.

You smiled sadly “He really was”

“You all are honestly” Peter 3 smiled, placing a hand on your shoulder giving it a reassuring squeeze “Honesty ever since i got here, all i keep seeing and hearing about are all these amazing heroes, i just wish my universe had more of them”

“They have you that's all they need Parker” You gave him a soft smile, as he squatted down, his brown eyes filling up your irises with nothing but adoration “And you are pretty amazing”

“Yeah, why are you so hard on yourself? You're amazing, you're the amazing spider man!” Peter 2 exclaimed

He shrugged “It's just you guys all fight such cool villains and i just have a lizard. I wonder if my universe as aliens”

“Probably does, they all have to” Peter 1 said “I just dont think they’re provoked”

“What do you mean?”

“Like theres so many superheroes here, its cool and all but Mr.Stark once told me it shows life outside of Earth that were ready for a fight, so since its just —“ He paused taking out his phone “Its an unknown number” He brought his phone to his ear “Um hello?”

“Think one of the villains got a phone?” Peter 3 smiled at you

“It's a necessity nowadays i wouldn't doubt it”

“Yeah she's here” Your universes Peter looked at you, clearing his throat “It's for you”

You furrowed your eyebrows, you hesitantly took a step forward “Who is it?”

He gave you a sympathetic look, handing you the phone “Sergeant Barnes”

You could feel all the colour drain from your face “Oh”

“I can tell him your busy” he was reaching for the phone back

"He can hear you Pete" You didnt realize you were backing up till you bumped into a warm but firm surface “Woah, you okay?” Peter 3 hands steadied you.

Looking into brown eyes that stared back at you with nothing but concern it made your heart flutter, you nodded. Turning back to face the youngest Peter “Ill be right back”

You started to walk further down the catwalk and you heard the eldest Peter mumble “Who’s sergeant Barnes?”

Before you were far enough they wouldn’t be able to hear you but you could still hear them and any sign that the villains arrived.

You were pacing, trying to breath evenly because when you got overwhelmed and your emotions were over the top you could cause some disturbances so you were trying your best to remember the breathing techniques Tony taught you, you pinched the bridge of your nose

“Hello?”

“Y/n” you could hear relief in his voice “What's going on?”

“Nothing”

He was agitated and you could hear it in voice “Dont lie to me, we saw you on tv with the Spider kid, and now i'm hearing about there being bad guys? Are you hurt?”

“Im fine Bucky, we have everything under control” You gritted your teeth, you always hated when he’s treat you like a wounded child

He scoffed “What, you and that kid? And you're bringing the fight to the statue of liberty, are you serious?”

“It's not just me and Peter, we have other help” You were trying your best to stay calm, and save your energy for the real fight

He paused sighing, deciding to get to the point “I know y/n”

“Know what?”

“About the night of Steve’s funeral”

Your mouth was dry, it all of a sudden felt like you were swallowing cotton “Which funeral?”

“Doll” he pleaded with you because he didn’t want to say it.

“Don’t” you were shaking your head.

“Why didn't you tell me? I would of —“

You cut him off “You would have what Bucky? Stayed with me because you were afraid I'd do it again? Like you said, we're not the same people anymore!”

“I still love you, ill always love you y/n, i just wanted time to figure out who i was, i just needed…”

“What about what I needed!” You screamed cutting him off “What about me? I lost Steve to, i lost time to, i needed you Bucky”

“I'm right here doll, i've always been here, you could of called me whenever and you know i would have came running”

“I don't need you anymore Bucky, i've found what i need what i want and for once i'm going to put me first”

You could hear his heavy breathing through the phone and you're sure his brow was furrowed “What are you saying y/n? I can't live without you”

“You’ve been doing fine the last 6 months”

“How do you know that? You weren’t there!”

“You left me Buck, remember? you were right to”

“I was right?”

You could feel static in the air, they were close - “We're just not who we were anymore and that's okay because change is good, it's scary but its good”

“You can't just throw all that history away y/n — it was supposed to be you and i, forever” He whispered

“Buck, we both know so well that forever doesn’t last” you whispered through dried lips, finally defeated “Steve and you will always be the biggest and best part of me, but …”. You paused, turning to look at the three Spidermen in their suits.

Your Peter was perched up, while the eldest was standing, and the Peter you were gonna risk this all for was leaning against the railing his masks in his hand while he was listening intently to the other two, he was smiling from ear to ear, the corner of his eyes crinkled.

Almost like he could feel you staring at him and he turned to you, he gave you the most beautiful smile you ever seen before giving you a small wave which you returned. “I'm thinking about the future now. You’ll always have a part a me, i'll always love you ” You peeled you eyeline away from the Peter’s turning to look over the edge “I'm not sure if I can ever love anyone the way i love you but i wanna try Bucky, but i can't do that here” you paused “not when every corner i turn im reminded of everything, everyone i lost”

“What do you mean here? Y/n what's going on what are you gonna do?” Panic was lacing his voice, he knew you had very powerful abilities and he also knew he didn't know what you could do with them, the full extent at least because you were still learning about them when he was in the safe house before Wakanda, but all he did know is he didn't like the sound of it, whatever it was.

“James, i'm gonna be okay, everything is gonna be okay”

“Y/n, answer me”

“I love you” You clicked the phone shut

You walked back over to the boys “Thanks Pete” you smiled, tossing his phone back up to him

“You okay?”

“Yeah i am” You smiled, this time he could see a twinkle in your eyes “We ready to cure some ass?”

You received a series of nods “Good because there here”

“How do you —“ Peter 1 perched up “You guys feel that?”

“Yeah” the eldest Peter nodded, “How did you know before us?”

“Im one with everything, and all that hippy stuff”

You shrugged it off before activating your suit, it went from inky black from your toes to your neck, the nanobots changed to a colourless white, as your eyes changed with it. The sky started to crackle, lightning flashing throughout the sky.

“Y/n?” You Peter questioned

“Not me”

All three men put their masks on, everyone fully alert before a man appeared “Sup Pete? You like the new new?” He held his arms out as electricity shot out of him.

“Oh well, that's pretty cool” You said to no one in particular

“Who’s this?” Electro turned his attention to you “Look i don't wanna hurt a lady, just give me the box and everything will be fine”

“I wouldnt be to worried about hurting y/n” Your Peter said “She's pretty bad ass”

“Is that a challenge?” Electro said with a smirt

“Nope, no, no Max, its definitely not a challenge” Peter 3 said getting ready to stand in front of you

He sent a shock of electricity your way just has Peter 3 was ready to jump in front of you, you caught the electricity with ease, holding it in your hand there was a glowing line between the two of you. The static could be felt in the air, your eyes started to glow more as you rose yourself off the ground.

“Oh shit”

“Y’know, that thing on your chest, was created and designed by a very, very dear friend of mine and i'm not gonna lie, he wouldn’t like this, you being on the wrong side of the fight and all, so i'm gonna have to do something about it”

You put both your hands out using his own electricity to fuel you, you used all the energy you had to hold him into place “Any day now Parker!”

You watched Peter 3 look flustered before he nodded “Yeah yeah of course, on it!” He shouted before getting the arc reactor off and placing the cure on Electro, once it was on you carefully placed him somewhere in the scaffolding and you water Peter 3 run to make sure he was okay.

You dropped yourself down, running to find the youngest Peter, you pasted Peter 2 curing the sand castle guy right before you bumped into a hard figure, you stumbled back a bit.

“Y/n?”

“Strange”

“You’re alive”

“You thought i wasnt?”

“I stopped hearing from you, logically i assumed the worst” He paused “Please tell me you’re not helping the kid?”

“We’re curing them, its working if that's what your asking”

“Your eyes are glowing” He ignored your comment

“Its a new thing, it only just started happening i guess” You shrugged

He nodded “You’re unlocking it”

You furrowed your brows “Unlocking what?"

“Everything, your full potential” He stared at you for a moment, almost like he was reading your every thought “tread lightly y/n” he warned before he opened another portal walking through it.

You followed him knowing exactly who he was going to “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means —“

“Pete watch out!” You screamed at the top of your lungs just as you watched the Lizard tackle Peter down, sticking his claws in his abdomen.

Strange uses a Eldritch Whip to hold the lizard down as the other two Spider Man went to cure what onces was Doctor Connors.

You shakily went over to your Peter, falling to your knees, he was coated in blood this was definitely a wound his fast healing wouldn't help on “Oh Pete” tears were rolling down your cheeks, guilt taking over every atom in you, you placed your hand over his wound putting pressure on it “I’m so sorry”

His eyes were glossy, he place his hand over yours “Don't you care apologize y/n, this isn’t your fault i know what your -“

You shook your head “I'm gonna fix this”

“This is too much y/n, it’ll take you out if not worse”

You had tunnel vision for the only Peter in front of you, you didn't feel the hand on your shoulder “It’s gonna be okay Pete”

He gave you a weak smile “It is, i'm gonna see May and Ben, and Mr.Stark he’ll probably kick my, y'know but its - what are you doing?!”

Your eyes were glowing, as you started to focus on all the matter surrounding his wound focusing everything you had left in you on him.

“Get her off of me, it too much, this could kill her!” You heard him shout to Peter 3.

Feeling that similar sensation of his hand on your shoulder, you stuck your left hand out, mumbling a weak “Sorry” and blasting him back, creating an almost forcefield-like bubble around the two of you, blocking out any outside voices and anyone who tried to interfere, you could vaguely see Strange using everything he had to break through.

“Y/n please stop”

You had two wounds down and one more to go, you could feel yourself fading but feeling Peter getting stronger. Before you knew it you weren’t strong enough and the bubble around you was flickering, you opened your eyes and was satisfied with Peter’s vitals being stronger than yours before anyone had the chance to say anything a chilling voice boomed through the sky.

“Can the Spider-Man come out to play?!”

Peter shoved you out of the way before the goblin started hurtling pumpkin bomb after pumkin bomb, swooping down and steal the box from Strange. Your vision was pulsating, between reality, darkness and the people were trying to come through. You looked up at Strange “There coming” you mumbled

Using his Eldritch Whips to steal the box back as Doc Ock held his board back, he looked back down at you “Who?!” He yelled through the chaos

You weakly pointed up at the sky.

“Strange no!” Peter shouted before an explosion went off and you used the last of your energy to guide the blast upwards and away from everyone you had left.

Before you knew it, you heard someone screaming your name as you tumbled off the collapsing scaffolding, letting darkness consume you.

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cannibalizedyke · 2 years

Note

hi there! congratulations on 700!!! i love your writing so much! i was wondering if i could get a 🕊 with tasm!peter parker?

i use she/her pronouns. i’m a capricorn sun, libra moon, and leo rising. my personality type is INFJ-T (not sure exactly what that means, but it seems important).

i’m currently a junior in college studying psychology and criminal justice. after i graduate with my undergraduate degree i would like to get my master’s degree in mental health counseling.

i suffer from generalized anxiety disorder as well as major depressive disorder. my mental health is pretty stable right now but i have struggled a lot in the past. i’m a little over 4 years clean from self harm and am very open about it because i want to help people that are going through the same thing i went through.

i am very much a people pleaser, and i think a lot of that stems from being the oldest child in my family and being the only daughter :). i’m a very independent person and struggle with talking to new people and making friends.

music is a big part of my life as well. i love listening to it, writing songs, and karaoke in the car! writing poetry and reading are my favorite things to do other than listening to music. i also have an obsession with pinterest and love creating moodboards!

i hope this is the right amount of information. again, congratulations on 700 lovely. you deserve the world and more <3

thank you so much lovely! you deserve the world and more 🤍🦢

🕊 - send me a character and as much information about yourself as you’d like and i’ll write a blurb about what i think your relationship with that character would be like!

"Hey, Peter?" You stood bashfully at the door to his room, guitar in hand.

Your boyfriend looked up from where he was working on his web shooters and smiled. "Hey, dove. What's up?"

You bit your lip, a bit nervous. "I, um, I wrote you a song."

Peter's eyes widened. "You wrote me a song?"

You nodded shyly. "Yeah, I- I was just testing out some lyrics and it- it just happened."

Peter left his work desk and walked over to you. "Are you gonna play it for me?"

You fiddled with your guitar. "If you want me to."

"Of course I want you to." Peter grabbed your hand and rubbed his thumb over yours comfortingly. "I wanna hear any song my beautiful girl writes."

You blushed with a small smile and sat down, positioning your instrument just right. You took a deep breath and played the first chord.

"I've always wanted adventure "To face the great unknown "Explore things both evil and pure "I thought I'd have to do it alone

"But you walked in and you showed me "All I'd been yearning to see "You held me and finally I felt free "You kissed me, I tasted honey

"Oh, honey, you set me free "You grabbed my hand and then I could see "Oh, honey, you set me free "I don't have to do this alone"

The song went another verse and a second chorus, and when you looked up at Peter again he was staring at you in pure adoration.

"I love you," he said, looking like he was about to cry.

You giggled nervously. "I love you too. So did you like it?"

Peter rolled his eyes and pulled you into his arms. "Of course I liked it. It was the best thing I've ever heard."

You smiled shyly. "Thank you."

"Thank you." He kissed your head. "For writing such a beautiful song for me. I truly will never deserve you."

Then it was your turn to roll your eyes. "Oh, stop it. We deserve each other perfectly enough."

Peter smiled and kissed you softly. "If you say so."

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lostalioth · 1 year

Text

everything marked with ツ contains smut, my blog is 18+ only regardless of if something contains smut or not. please read all warnings before reading any of my fics. all series contain a mixture of fluff, smut and angst.

→ tasm!peter parker.

𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬.

— good boy | kinktober 22’

it’s just so easy to overstimulate peter, especially with how sensitive he is when his spidey sense is on overload ツ

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venus616 · 1 year

Note

Hi!! Requesting a spicy tasm!peter fic where he puts his photography skills to use if ya know what I mean 🔥🫶🏽

his muse; {p.p.}

Pairing: peter parker x f!reader (gif is tasm but you can interpret this as any peter parker)

Summary: peter puts his photography skills to use when you're naked

Warnings: established relationship, smut, vaginal fingering/sex, oral sex (blowjob), praise kink (if you squint), photos during sex, language, unprotected sex, 18+, NSFW

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: hi. i love this trope So Much… like more than you will ever know, but bc i love it and i’ve seen it done multiple times with peter i was very scared to even do anything with it sjnksks but here is my finished product, i hope you like it~

(Also- it is my gift to anyone who actually likes reading my content bc ive been gone for a While and will be gone for another 2-3 weeks bc finals are not fun! so i hope this is good, enjoy!)

You’re putting away your shared laundry when you hear a loud noise on your window sill. You don’t even flinch this far into your relationship and only shake your head, separating your clothes from his. The window opens letting in a cool breeze and Peter’s book bag hits the ground before he gets inside.

It's only then you look and give his body, clad in his suit, a scan and smile. “You okay?” You ask. The sun already set and the crisp winter air started to fill the room.

He scoffs before shutting the window. You turn your body around from the basket in front of you to see Peter shaking his head while taking his camera out of his bag.

The professional camera Peter spent a year saving up for when he was 18 was sat next to your much less efficient Polaroid camera. On it, there was a photo of you two celebrating your anniversary together recently. The flash showing you kissing Peter on the cheek, he’s blushing at the attention and eyes closed from the flash.

Peter smiled at the memory before he continued speaking.

“Why do people think it’s okay to commit crime when I’m just getting off my shift?” He sighed before setting down his bag next to your bed.

“They’re so inconsiderate,” You pout playfully while folding his clothes into his reserved drawer at your place.

Peter looks up from unpacking and focuses on your ass poking up from your position. You feel his eyes on you as your t-shirt hangs loosely on your body, and the hair on your legs prick up from the cold in the room.

Peter takes off his mask revealing his disheveled hair and takes in the sight of you like it’s his last.

Your lacy underwear decorating the plump flesh of your butt, reminding Peter of how quickly he had to leave this morning before getting to appreciate for bandaging him up last night.

His eyes continued to scan up, seeing the old t-shirt frame your shape, admiring it as if he had x-ray vision.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Peter is brought out of his thoughts hearing your soft voice, taunting him for his staring problem.

“Don’t tempt me,” Peter quips back. He shakes his head before tossing his mask in your empty hamper. Sitting on your bed and bending over to remove his boots, his ears don’t miss your footsteps as you saunter to him.

You place your feet in between his while he looks back up to you, removing the rest of his suit.

“It’s never stopped you before,” You cross your arms while he slips out of his suit, leaving his web shooters on. The suit is strewn across the floor and your eyes focus on Peter’s body.

No matter how beat up he was, Peter remains to be the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You ran your hands over his, now, yellow ribs. Compared to the purple constellation he had yesterday, you were grateful for his superhuman healing.

He had a nasty fall yesterday, left with some scars and bruising, but thankfully this time you didn’t have to stitch him up.

You even notice the scratch on his arm is almost gone but Peter liked wearing your special bandaids. He likes giving you a reason to buy more cartoon ones for him.

Peter watches your eyes carefully scan his body for anything else and adores you for it. Still, he hates making you worry.

“You weren’t naked before.”

A smile creeps up on your face, a giggle disguised as a scoff when you answer: “I’m not naked.”

You don’t realize you set yourself up for Peter’s response until he smirks. His hands snake up underneath your shirt to toy with your nipples, already hard because of the cold air lingering in the room.

A hiss escapes your mouth at feeling his larger, colder hands grip your boobs. Peter slightly grins at his effect on you. He pulls at the bottom of your shirt before raising it up your body. You oblige, pulling it over your head to toss it across your room.

His face lit up at your frontal nudity, hands placed on either side of your hips tugging at your underwear.

“Let’s change that.”

You roll your eyes at his response, but not without a smile plastered on your face. You could feel the heat pooling in between your thighs and the excitement in your stomach.

“What position should I be in?” You shudder under his callus fingers. Peter lightly furrows his eyebrows when you turn, gesturing to your polaroid camera from your bedside table.

His face relaxes when he registers what you guys are doing, not realizing how serious you were being.

Your eyes flicker up and down his body when you turn to face him, noticing his erection bulging out of his briefs. Leaning down you use your hand to palm him through the fabric, feeling his cock pulsate in your hand.

“On your knees,” You whip your head up when Peter says that, his hands still roaming around your body.

You quirk your eyebrow up in response. Pressing your forehead and nose to his, you plant a kiss onto his lips. Your hands are now on either of his thighs, sinking lower onto the ground as the kiss deepens.

Before you can fully get down, you hear a light thwip and break the kiss.

You see Peter’s wrist is flicked out with his web shooters activated, latched on to your polaroid camera. There’s a glint of mischief in his eyes before he pulls it into his hands.

Resting on your knees, you’re before him with your fingers tracing the waistband of his boxers. You carefully watch for his reactions, but he’s refamiliarizing himself with your flimsy camera you got in your teenage years as a novelty.

You cross your arms on his legs and look up at him, the camera points at you and all you can focus on is his wide smile behind the camera. “Let’s see if I still know how this works,” Peter jokes.

You repose with both your hands on your knees, pushing your breasts out in between your arms. You didn’t realize they were hardly the focus of the photo (but still included, Peter was only human after all).

The photo snaps and you remember you have to get used to the flash again. Blinking a few times to get used to the discomfort, the photo prints out and Peter seems pleased with himself already.

“It hasn’t even developed yet,” You taunt, you resume palming him as you assume that was the extent of his practice shots.

Peter shrugs while shaking the photo as gently as possible. “Hey, who’s the photographer here? I know a good subject when I see it,” He nudges you.

When the photo barely develops, he shows you and you see yourself: half naked on your knees with your face fully in the photo. You were surprised he included that much of your face, and managed to catch you looking as confident as you could. But it was easy when Peter was behind the camera, he never fails to make you feel like his only muse.

You blush and look away from the photo as you continue to massage him. Peter’s breath hitches at the rate at which you go at, and you smirk to yourself.

No matter how much control Peter took in bed, he wasn’t afraid to show you how quickly he’d fold for you. It was one of the many things you appreciated about him. Another one was just how vocal he was, his whimpers before you even got to touch him were making your underwear dampen.

When his dick starts twitching, you pull his boxers down, his cock slaps up to his stomach while he watches your movements. Locking eyes with him, you wrap both your hands around his shaft before slowly jacking him off.

You’re mesmerized by the way his body is flexed under your touch, you almost don’t hear what he says.

“Your mouth,” He breathes out.

You sit up higher on your knees and kiss up his happy trail, lingering when you get closer to his cock. You hear his groan and look up, meeting his eyes.

You raise your eyebrows. “My mouth, what?”

Your lips quirk up again, teasing him. “Use your words.”

He rolls his eyes in response but you shake your head. “I can stop,” You remind him.

His brown eyes almost bulge out his head when you say that, wrapping his own hand over yours to stop your movements from pausing. He leans over to get closer to your face, the scent of you surrounding him. Peter’s face softens at your smugness.

“Baby,” He starts. You wait to listen to how he pleads for you to stay while he leads your hands.

“I need that pretty mouth of yours to suck my cock,” He gasps out and removes his hand when you loosen your wrist in response. Your eyes soften at the praise and Peter mentally celebrates when he leans back to his original position.

You reposition yourself as well, with your neck getting to work as you lick a stripe underneath the shaft of his cock. Peter sharply inhales at the feeling and brings his head back up.

You lock eyes with him when you feel the jolt in his body and open your mouth in an ‘O’ shape around the head of his cock.

Relaxing your throat, you lower your head on his length and feel the tip of his cock hitting your uvula before you begin bobbing your head.

Caught off guard, you could taste the saltiness of his precum on your tongue now. You gagged a bit and popped off him to lick it off in the most obscene way you could think of.

Peter mutters, “Just like that.” and you look up.

Forgetting he had a camera, the shutter went off to capture your tongue on the underside of his wet tip.

You collect more saliva in your mouth while you run your hand up and down his shaft. Feeling prepared enough, you go back down on him with the drool dripping on his cock on your hands.

Peter went crazy at the heat of your mouth and the sight of your lips around him. The only thought he had was to get the camera out again to keep this moment forever.

Getting slack jawed at this, he tangles his hands in your hair but doesn’t change your pace. He only starts pushing it out of your face as it gets in the way.

You look up at him and see Peter pointing the camera at you as you have half his cock in your mouth. The first shot is taken, and he tries to not move too much as the photo prints out immediately. He releases a few breathy moans at the pace you're going at while he places the new photo on the side.

Peter silently gestures to you to get him out your mouth so you release him with a pop, flipping your hair to the side as you continue to jack him off.

“That’s good,” He mutters, when he places the camera at his eye before snapping a new photo.

“I probably look insane,” You grumble, already feeling self conscious at how messy your hair looks, coupled alongside the drool and precum at your mouth.

Peter shakes his head and pulls you in closer by your waist and you yelp, finding yourself now pinned under him on the bed.

“Never,” He shakes his head, attaching his mouth to your tit as he pulls your underwear off. You immediately moan at his aggression on your sensitive nipples and he chuckles against your skin when he feels you flinch.

Peter’s calloused hands find your clit and start massaging it, and you throw your head back in pleasure when he finds his rhythm.

You feel a twinge of disappointment when he removes his mouth from your tits but you look up to see the camera watching you, and a shutter going off before you are even ready.

“Pete,” You warn. Your sternness doesn’t last when he slips in a finger in your embarrassingly wet cunt. You almost mewl at how full he makes you with just one finger.

“You looked so pretty moaning like that,” Peter explains while his finger curls into you. He knew what he was doing when he smiled again, leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

Your annoyance was no match for his desperation as you eventually gave in. One of his hands cupped your cheek while his lips were frantic on yours. He’s greedy for you, almost lapping up your tongue with his own before he pulls away.

“Just let go, forget the camera is even there,” He mumbles in your neck when you gasp at the absence of his lips.

He slips in another finger and thrusts faster, making you nod mindlessly as you surrender all control.You grip onto his bicep as he pumps in and out of you, begging him for more friction. You can hear how wet you were, and while you were embarrassed, Peter relished in it.

“Can you take a third for me baby?” He asks in a low voice as he sits up on the bed in between your legs. You nod vigorously but he quickly removes both fingers.

You open your mouth to complain but instead yelp out when Peter pulls both your legs closer to his chest as he kneels on the mattress. He set aside the camera briefly.

“Yeah?” He searches for an answer.

“Yes,” You grunt out, already desperate for much more than his fingers.

He massages your heat with his fingers again before he inserts three fingers in, jolting your body to sit up. You let out an obscene moan and couldn’t help but to massage your clit while he fucks you with his fingers.

One hand being in competition with Peter’s while the other massages your boobs, you’re almost too dazed to notice the shutter then went off while you were closer to an orgasm.

“Fucking incredible,” Peter breathes out before putting the camera with the new photo down, and leans down to kiss you. His pace never falters, making you whimper against his lips.

“I’m about to cum,” You announce shakily. Peter swallows your pleas with a kiss and just curls his fingers against your g-spot faster. You feel that familiar build up in the pit of your stomach and the pace of your clenching pick up.

“Cum all over my fingers baby,” He answers, and you immediately let go. You hold Peter closer as you cum, heaving underneath him like you’re in heat. Your body Peter continues to finger you but only because he loves the way you suction around him.

He still lets you come down from your high, kissing you through it and massaging your breasts with his free hand during. When your breathing slows down, he sits back up and removes his fingers from you.

“Need you inside of me,” You remind him as you reach over to palm his already hard cock against his stomach.

“Gonna let me cum inside of you?” He asks, holding his cock in his hand already glistening with your wetness. He readjusts to line himself up to your pussy awaiting your answer.

You cock your head with your arms supporting your body from the bed. “I’ll let you cum wherever you want,” You say.

Peter grunts at your answer before inserting himself into your entrance, and immediately throws his head back at the feeling, your warmth and wetness engulfing him.

“So fucking tight,” He comments, and you silently agree as you feel yourself stretching out on him. Your eyes fluttered shut as you clenched around him.

“Fuck,” you moan out as he finds a comfortable pace for the both of you.

Or that’s what you thought.

You hear a shutter from your camera and realize he took a picture (or two) of you in this position beneath him, moaning out for him flat on the bed with his cock inside of you.

You didn’t have time to care as when he got his shots he immediately started to rock into you, and you felt the strength of him against your thighs before he picked up the pace.

You watch him thrust into you and slowly lose himself above you.

“I love the way you feel around me,” He pants out, closing in on your body with his forearms framing your face. You nod as the bed squeaks and your hands roam his body, stopping at his shoulders and the nape of his neck.

Peter obliges to your physical demands and dips down to suck on your neck, causing you to whimper as your body continues to jolt from his thrusts. His soft brown hair tickles your skin as his teeth chew at the sensitive skin in your neck. You don’t know whether to giggle or moan, but you’re vocal regardless.

“Go faster,” You whine, becoming impatient with him.

“I’m not gonna last if I go faster,” He growls against your skin, sending vibrations down your spine. He thrusted slower, bringing his hand down to the back of your knee to bend it closer to your body. You felt him hitting your g-spot repeatedly that you knew you weren’t going to last any longer like that.

“I don’t care,” You cry out. Peter scoffs in your neck as if to say a begrudging ‘Fine.’ and kisses you on the cheek before kneeling back up. He’s already twitching inside you before he begins thrusting again. You almost forget what you got yourself into until you feel his balls slap against your cunt repeatedly.

A string of curses escape both your mouths, yours because he’s just so big and you can feel the tension build up in your stomach again. Peter’s cusses are because you just won’t stop clenching around him in response, he feels like he might burst the next time you tighten around him.

“Fuck, fuck fuck,” He mutters before spilling into you.

You go slack jawed at the feeling of him cumming inside of you. It feels hot between your thighs, in between the burning feeling of his hard thighs slapping against your softer ones, and feeling him twitch and coat your insides and the outside of your cunt with his load.

You cry out as he almost slips out of you, but realize he’s gonna take another picture. You’re not sure what to do, or what exactly he’s capturing but you decide to listen to his earlier advice and let it happen. Peter places the camera on his eye while his cock almost goes soft half away inside of you, and you can feel him rubbing his cum around your thighs and up your hips.

He mutters another curse, before snapping the picture. You close your eyes and your legs when you decide that that was the last photo and miss how Peter compiles all of them on your bedside table.

Eventually, you look up and see him pulling back up his underwear and beckoning you to see the photos. When you get up and see 6 photos lined up from tonight.

One of you on your knees, your breasts protruding and almost being the main focus of the photo if it wasn't for your face. You want to laugh at how excited your eyes looked but you know it was only because of who was behind the camera.

Two more during and after the blowjob, one of you in the middle taking Peter in your mouth and giving the camera (but really, Peter) siren eyes. The other was you slightly disheveled, but Peter swore you were the prettiest girl in the world with drool around your mouth.

A third of you being fingered, your head is thrown back in unfiltered pleasure from his fingers, your breasts sitting high on your chest as you’re on your back and your nipples were glistening in the photo due to the suckling that happened off camera. While scanning this photo, you realize that being caught in the moment wasn’t such a bad thing and Peter is silently celebrating he caught your O face in action.

The fourth was similar but you had more control over your pleasure as you’re on camera massaging your breasts and hand on your pussy. You feel like a vixen with the way you’re fondling yourself, Peter silently agrees as he knows you look like one.

Fifth and sixth photo show the before and after of Peter fucking you senseless. Fifth with your body being still underneath his, and the photo displaying that exhilarating feeling you both get when your bodies meet in the first thrust. And the sixth photo when you’re both comfortable enough to come down from your high together. The sticky, white cum is slayed over your sopping, wet pussy and Peter’s fingers and cock in the frame to remind you who fucks you like this.

“Do you like these? I can burn them away if you don’t,” Peter runs his hands through his hair nervously, not trying to make you uncomfortable if the bit had gone too far.

You only shake your head with a laugh bubbling in your throat at his consideration and hug his much taller frame from behind. It felt good to rest your head on his back, while his arms engulf yours from the front.

“I love them, I love you,” You speak low but loudly enough so he can hear, and feel, your words.

“Which ones do you want to keep?” He asks.

You know it’s out of courtesy, just one of those things you two got used to asking each other after taking pictures on this camera. You kept the silly anniversary photo while he kept the very nice one he took of you.

“It’s all for you,” You answer. Peter sputters quickly, turning back around to see your face when you say it, you only nod in full seriousness.

He leans down to kiss your cheek as a thank you and you only smile back.

“I think you’d get more use out of it than me,” You add with a tinge of humor. Peter only plays it off with another suggestion while hugging you from the front. His arms wrap around your shoulders while you rest your head in the crook of his neck.

“You know what though?” He asks, trailing his hands down to your naked hips, stopping to cup the round of your ass.

“What?” You mutter in his hold, already feeling your body heat up at the thought of round 2.

Peter smirks before snaking one of his hands to your pussy. Knowing that you’re about to start throbbing, at the thought of him. You gasp before he speaks and he chuckles while he proposes his new idea.

“I think it’s only fair if we make a movie now.”

5K notes · View notes

keerysfreckles · 4 months

Note

tasm! peter parker who takes pictures of you any chance he gets.. and reader finds those pics with cute lil captions of whatever she was doing in that moment

pictures - peter parker (tasm)

pairing: peter parker x f!reader

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, pure fluff :)

a/n: I LOVE THIS SM OMG andrews peter will always have a special place in my heart <33

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

in the middle of impulsively deep cleaning y/n and peter's shared apartment, y/n was standing in peter's closet. he had a pile of clothes inside it that he was meaning to donate. y/n was in the process of grabbing all of the clothes and tossing them into a garbage bag. peter was somewhere in the apartment, but y/n was focused on her own task.

she looked around the closet once before leaving, to see if she sees anything peter hasn't used in over a year.

y/n stands on her tip toes to grab a pair of shoes on the top shelf that were worn out, and she knew peter hasn't worn them since high school.

standing back up on her tip toes, her hand flails around the space on the shelf slightly, as she tries to feel for any other things she can donate. however, her eyebrows furrow once she feels an unfamiliar box.

she grabs it at an awkward angle, before knealing on the ground and taking the lid off.

firstly, y/n's confused, once she sees the box filled with polaroid pictures. she rakes her fingers through all the pictures in the box, and notices they're all of her.

she giggled at the realization that peter was always taking her picture.

she lifted one, and saw it was of her decorating the christmas tree. the bottom was labeled with peter's messy handwriting, 'christmas 2019'.

she picked another one out of the box. her back was facing the camera, and she guessed she was cooking something, seeing a plate full of food next to her on the counter, as she stood in front of the stove. after reading the caption peter had written, she was right, it was when she cooked pancakes for her and peter.

y/n continued looking through the pictures. her heart only warmed after looking at them.

"y/n?" peter's voice echoed in his room.

"in here!" she called back, making peter walk into his closet.

"oh, you found those," peter kneels down besides y/n, with a shy smile on his face.

y/n looks at one with peter looking over her shoulder. he took the picture in front of the mirror, well y/n was the one holding the camera, as peter had his face buried into her neck.

y/n remember that day very vividly. it was the day peter asked her to officially be his girlfriend. they had just gotten back from their first date, and peter thought y/n looked absolutely adorable wearing his pajama pants, so he insisted to take a picture.

"this doesn't really look like cleaning to me," peter chuckles, noticing how distracted y/n had gotten.

"oh shush," she giggles, "what have you been doing this whole time?"

"i was actually cleaning the kitchen. just like you said you were going to go through donations, which clearly is going so well," peter laughs while gesturing to what y/n was doing.

peter kisses the top of her head, before standing up, "since i love you, i'll let it slide just this once."

y/n only giggles again, and waves goodbye to peter before he walks out of his room.

even though she knew she had more cleaning to do, she went back to her previous task, her smile never leaving her face.

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lovelettersforthedamned · 4 days

Note

"are you awake yet?" "no." "oh, okay sorry." + peter parker + and it's like the first night they've spent together

Pretty Girl

✮ tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

✮ word count: 0.6k

✮ summary: a soft morning with peter.

✮ warnings: allusion to smut, mention of sexy times the night before, reader has hair that can be tucked behind her ear, mentions of morning breath, a soft kiss and a steamy kiss.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

main m.list ⋆ peter parker m.list

not my gif. credits to the owner :)

The comfort of the blankets covering your bare body makes you want to sink deeper into the mattress, but the sudden confusion of your surroundings pulls you out of your groggy state. You come to your senses as you feel for the sheets around you, the unfamiliar texture makes you realize the arm thrown over your waist.

For a split second, you panic, until you force yourself to calm down. You sigh as you remember that you spent the night with Peter, and you nuzzle your body closer to his, a soft smile appearing on your lips.

Peter must have felt your sudden need to be closer, because he pulls you closer to his chest, his skin warm from sleep. A flush of warmth runs over your cheeks. Some of it is from pure joy, but most of it is from giddy at the thought of the night before.

The sun is starting to peek through the blinds of Peter’s window causing you to squint, effectively pulling you out of the sluggishness of sleep. Now that you’re awake, your body can’t stay still. The urge to turn around and press small kisses to Peter’s face was strong, and it took everything in you to stay facing away from him.

You could only move for so long before Peter started to stir, his heightened senses picking up on your restlessness. An incoherent groan slips past his lips, causing you to giggle. You finally turn your body to face him, your hand reaches up to push a mess of his hair away from his eyes. Your hand lowers to rest on the side of his face, your thumb slowly rubs back and forth. Your voice is still warming up as you ask, “Are you awake yet?”

Peter’s eyes are still closed, but a small laugh leaves him. His smile falls rapidly as he tries to conceal it. Now with his face forcing a frown, he responds, “No.”

If your boyfriend wants to play games, you could too. You pull your hand away from his face, and quickly turn back around and move away from his grasp. He opens his eyes at your sudden movement, and he’s met with a view of your bare back. “Oh, okay sorry,” you mumble to him as you make yourself comfortable on the other side of the bed, a grin appearing on your face.

You can hear a chuckle coming from him behind you before you feel an arm around your waist, turning you around and pulling you onto his chest. Pieces of your hair fall around your face as you laugh. “Hey pretty girl,” Peter whispers as he tucks some strands of hair behind your ear then moves to hold the side of your face.

Your heart melts at his greeting. He brings your face down to his to kiss your lips softly. You savor the feeling, but quickly pull away, “I have morning breath, Peter!”

His eyes are still on your lips, his gaze carries an unmistakable look of longing. “I don’t care,” he mumbles as he pulls you back down again.

This time, you don’t pull away. Your lips are beautifully entangled with his. The kiss is deep and fills you with an overwhelming sense of love. Peter’s fingers begin to weave through your hair, giving it a slight tug as he moans into your mouth. You don’t pull away until you absolutely have to, the lack of air causing your head to swirl. “I thought you weren’t awake,” you tease.

“No, no,” he starts, “I’m definitely awake. I don’t know what you’re talking about?” You laugh at his response before looking over his features. You take a mental picture of the Peter you’re looking at now. The morning sun looked good on him.

✮ author's note: hi all!! first of all, thank you for the support during my unplanned hiatus. your kind words have meant so much to me. once again, im slowly putting out the rest of the recs from the 400 follower bash, so stay tuned for those!! and im literally so close to 500 already...like what?? so keep an eye out for a little celebration for that too!! ok, ily bye!!!

#fluff #marvel #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #andrew garfield peter parker #peter parker #tasm!peter parker #spiderman #llftd 400 follower bash #tasm!peter parker x f!reader #tasm!peter parker fluff

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psithurista · 10 months

Text

approach shift pt. nine

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 4.3k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: Mentions of death, fingering, a quick wristy (lol)

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: Last full chapter but there will be an epilogue in the not-too-distant; I'll probably have more notes then. Thank you x

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The back of your head is torturously itchy.

You try surreptitiously to press your knuckles to the spot, just to relieve the worst of it. The nurse sitting closest to you glances up at you from over the top of her monitor and guiltily, you clasp your hands back down into your lap.

It smells sour in here, like soft plums left to rot. Whichever industrial cleaner it is this hospital uses, it’s definitely not one anybody’s trying to market for domestic use. It’s probably cheap as fuck, you contemplate, your hand drifting back up towards your head.

“You can go in now,” a new nurse says beside you. You jerk your hand away. “He’s awake. I let him know you’ve been waiting.”

“Oh, thank you,” you say, unpeeling yourself from the plastic waiting room chair. “I won’t be very long. I just wanted to say hi.”

She gives you a mild, distracted okay-that’s-nice-whatever smile and disappears. You push open the door to the room she’d just exited and duck inside.

It smells far better in here. There’s a vase of opening lilies leaving red pollen-stains on the table in front of the window, and the lavender-powder smell of clean sheets. Doctor Brant is propped up in the bed, frowning hard at the tablet in his hands.

“I hope you aren’t working while you’re meant to be resting,” you say.

He tilts his head down to peer at you over his glasses. “Oh, no. It’s just sudoku. It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Doctor. How are you?”

He nods, and sets the tablet aside. “Well, they’ve finally taken me off the oxygen so I expect I’ll be allowed to leave soon. All things considered, a little smoke inhalation injury at my…advanced age could’ve been far worse.” His eyes glint a little bit. “Were you injured?”

You shake your head. “A concussion, but I’m fine. The. He. Um. You know. He got me out, before he went back for you.”

“You shouldn’t have stayed to look for me.”

You sit gingerly on the very edge of the chair next to the bed. “I thought. I didn’t think he’d made it to you in time. I thought you were both.” Your voice starts to sound weird, so you stop talking.

He folds his hands together over his chest. “It’s strange. I remember the first time I saw him. I didn’t understand what was happening. I thought it must have been a stunt, or an advertisement for something. Silly, really. And yet he’s saved Oscorp from itself more times than it deserved. After Connors and Dillon and that whole terrible disaster with young Harry. It’s too much. There’s no reason for anybody to endanger themselves in that place ever again.” He takes his glasses off and sets them beside the bed. “Which is why I’ve resigned.”

You stare at him. “You. What?”

He smiles at you; the expression a little indulgent. “All those years of work, gone. And for nothing. I’m sure you’ve already heard what happened?”

You have. It’s been all over the news the entire week. First the speculation: was it an attack? Was it political? Was it another disgruntled ex-employee? A competitor? And then, later, the worse, more boring truth: regular old corporate negligence. An undertrained technician who’d tried to prematurely purge a vac test chamber with concentrated oxygen. An alarm system two years overdue for maintenance. And floor upon floor of laboratories filled with dangerous substances, improperly stored.  

Nobody else in your department was seriously hurt. But others weren’t so lucky.

“When I started with Norm, it was all about changing the world for the better. And in the end, we’ve helped nobody.” He shakes his head. “If you’ll forgive my language…Fuck Oscorp. I’m ready to start over.”

You grin at him, even though it feels a little watery. “I’m…really happy for you.” And you are. In the brief time you’ve worked under him, his passion has been obvious, but he’s always seemed so bogged down by the minutiae of red tape; appeasing a board of investors with no interest in the importance of his life’s work beyond its potential profitability.

But it also makes your already-uncertain future with the company even foggier. You’ll need to find someone else willing to offer you a similar graduate position, and you already know you won’t find anything else quite as specialised as the work he’s been doing.

He takes a sip from the glass of water beside his bed, then sits back with a sigh. “Publicly-funded research is a far less glamorous world than that of private enterprise. We’ll be relying primarily on grant funding and academic support. There won’t be any glass fountains or vertical gardens, I’m afraid.”

You nod sympathetically. “I can imagine. It’ll be a big change.” His eyebrows draw together at you. “I would understand if your answer is no.”

You blink. “My answer?” you say, like a genius.

“If so, I would, of course, write you a glowing recommendation. And I have plenty of contacts I could put you in touch with, if you’d prefer that.”

Holy shit. Is he…? “Hold on. Are you offering me a position with you?”

“Well, yes.”

He grunts as you dart in and hug him. “Oh! Yes! I mean, of course! I would love to. Thank you so much. You won’t regret this.”

“Uh.”

You lean back as he smooths his blankets down. “Sorry,” you say, a little sheepish. “That was unprofessional.”

He tries to look stern, but it’s unconvincing. “Well, yes,” he says again. “But I’ll choose to ignore it just this once.”

You stop by to see Bear on your way home. The roller doors in the alley beside the grimy little theatre are propped open so you can see all the half-painted set pieces inside, and there’s a bunch of people dressed all in black gathered around smoking.

“Are you gonna be home tonight?” you ask, watching her inhale the deli sandwich you’d brought after correctly guessing she hadn’t stopped rehearsing long enough for lunch.

“I can be if you want,” she says, her mouth full of half-chewed food. “But I was kind of planning on staying at a friend’s.”

You press your knuckles absently against the back of your head and leer at her. “Would this friend happen to be the same person who wanted you to move in after one salad date?”

“If you don’t stop scratching your stitches I’m calling the hospital and narcing to your doctor. And yes.”

You make a face. “I’m not even touching them!”

She stuffs the rest of the sandwich in her mouth and wipes her hands on her jeans. “I’m seriously cool not to go, though. It’s totally fine.”

She’s barely left you alone since you got back from the emergency room, even setting alarms and checking up on you throughout the first couple of nights. You know for a fact she’s had to cancel other plans for you—again. You shake your head. “No, go. I kind of want some alone time anyway.”

It’s another cold, bright afternoon. You walk into the feet of your shadow and spread your fingers beside your body as your arms move, watching them elongating out on the pavement in front of you, lost in thought. You’ve been lost in thought a lot, lately.

You’re just past the end of your block when you catch sight of the figure sitting on the stairs outside your building. Long legs in faded jeans are stretched out and crossed over at the ankles, and there’s duct tape around the toe of one sneaker. You slow to a halt on the sidewalk. A woman behind you huffs with irritation, veering around you, a giant paper grocery bag clutched in her arms.

He looks up from his cracked phone screen as you draw level with your door. His hair is as chaotic as ever, stuck up in every direction, except for at the nape of his neck, where it curls gently around in little flicks. He looks tired. He’s always looked tired, the whole time you’ve known him, but you notice it differently now. Like the holes in his jeans, and the bruise on his jaw, and the angry-sore-looking blisters on his knuckles.

He smiles a little, jerking you out of your silent staring. “Hi. Sorry. I didn’t wanna just show up unannounced. I’ve been trying to call, but,” he holds his phone up, and you shake your head.

“My phone was—”

“Yeah, I figured.”

The wind lifts the edge of your scarf and shivers under the neck of your coat. There’s something sweet in the air; like cinnamon sugar, maybe someone baking from one of the open windows overhead. “Do you want to come inside?”

His expression is soft as he considers you, looking up through his lashes. “Okay.”

Neither of you speak on the trip upstairs. Your hand accidentally brushes his as you reach out for the elevator buttons, and you both pull away, as awkward and over-polite as strangers.

He stands a respectful distance back as you open your door, and you lead him inside, waving your hand vaguely toward the sofa. “Do you want a drink?”

He folds himself into the seat nearest the window, hunching over and shoving his hands between his knees. A cold drift of sun touches his jaw. “Um, no thanks, it’s cool.”

You sit down beside him, folding your hands across your lap like you’re about to get a class picture taken.

He chews his lip, runs his thumbs over his burned hands. Outside, a car horn beeps. “It’s not because I didn’t trust you,” he starts. “If you’re wondering. I don’t want you thinking that’s the reason.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “You don’t need to explain.”

“I just want you to know—”

“I know.” You try to smile at him, and it feels a little watery. “I get it. I know why you couldn’t tell me.”

His brows bend together just enough to mark out a pained line. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Really. Don’t be.”

It falls silent in your living room. The little clay pinch pot in the centre of the coffee table Bear had brought home from the artists’ market watches you both watching one another; soft-skinned and tender as nervous newborn things.

“You might die doing this,” you finally point out. “One day. All those times you’ve been hurt. You might…not come home.”

He nods at the floor. “Which is why I couldn’t really ask you to, you know. Waste your time with—” he waves his hands vaguely back and forth between your bodies. “It’s not worth it. And, like, trust me, I would never, ever want to drag you into any of the shit I’m involved with. I didn’t mean to fuck you around so long, knowing you wouldn’t...” He looks back at you, his dark eyes soft. “It was just. The happiest I’ve been in a really long time. I couldn’t stop myself. I’m sorry. It was shitty of me. Selfish.”

You stare at him for a few seconds in stunned disbelief. Then you laugh. You don’t mean to, and his head jerks back, startled. “Are you serious?” you manage.

His eyes are huge. “Uh. Yeah?”

You laugh again. It sounds a little manic. “You’re unbelievable.”

He flushes. “Could you maybe quit laughing at me when I’m trying to—”

“Peter. You saved my fucking life. Twice. Even after I was a total asshole to you. You saved me.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Yeah, look, I don’t want you to feel weird about that. Like, it’s totally, one-hundred-percent not a big deal and I never want anybody to feel like—”

“You help people. Strangers. Every day. For nothing. And they aren’t even grateful. The things people write about you.” He hasn’t moved, and you realise you’re talking louder than you need to, considering he’s right in front of you. “You’re the least selfish person I’ve ever met,” you tell him, emphatic, needing him to get it. “You’re a good person, Peter. I’m so sorry I didn’t see that before.” Your voice breaks a little and it’s embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as the fact that your vision has gone blurry and your cheeks feel suddenly too hot.

You stop and breathe for a few moments, willing yourself not to cry. He doesn’t say anything, just studies the edge of the rug as though he’s pretending not to notice, and you’re grateful.

Then, quietly, he takes a breath. “I was going to tell you. Before the fire. I saw May, and she told me she saw you, and that you’d talked, and. I wanted to explain everything.”

You remember the way May had looked that day in the park; her small, sad mouth, and the way she’d spoken slowly like she was choosing each word carefully. “Does she know?”

Peter half-shrugs. “We’ve never talked about it. But, like, I know she knows. And she knows I know she does.” He gives you a little smile. “It’s easier if we both keep pretending we don’t, though.”

“Does anyone else?”

His smile turns tight. “I guess not. Not really.”

“So you’ve been doing this all on your own? The whole time? How?”

He runs his hand back through his hair. “Yeah. Well, I guess I’m pretty good with DIY now, you know? I wasn’t always. I had to learn. Shit went wrong a lot in the beginning. Shit still goes wrong a lot.”

You lean in a little, curling into the cushions. “What’s the hardest part?”

You’re expecting him to say the fear of discovery, or the isolation, or the sheer physical exhaustion. But he wrinkles his nose. “God. The sewing. It’s so hard. And it’s constant. I swear I pop a different seam every day.” His face goes blank for a moment and he looks at you as though a brand new thought has just occurred to him for the first time. “It’s actually really nice. Getting to talk about this.”

“Am I allowed to ask about the outfit?”

He slaps his hands over his face. “You are absolutely fucking not allowed to ask about the outfit.”

Your mouth drops open in outrage. “I wasn’t gonna laugh! I just want to know why—”

“Look, I was going for, like, a velodrome thing. Like for speed and better flexibility and less wind-resistance and then like, anonymity as well, obviously, and originally—”

“What about the, uh, pattern?”

“Yeah, okay, okay, it seemed cool at the time! I was fifteen!”

The thought of Peter as a child, alone, in danger, no doubt even ganglier and nerdier than he is now, sends a fresh pang of sadness through you. You try not to let it show. “Do you eat the webs?”

He stares like you’ve just asked if he’d like to swap heads with you. “What?”

“Certain types of spiders go back and eat their webs after they’re done with them. Like, to replenish the protein they expended making them. Do you ever eat yours?”

The expression on his face is the funniest thing you’ve ever seen. “Uh, no. It’s inorganic. Like, it’s a, like essentially a nylon polymer composite. It’s not edible. I mean, I’ve never tried, but it’s designed to dissolve after a few hours, so I guess if you did really want to eat it, it wouldn’t hurt you…” He trails off, sheepish, looking at you sideways. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Yeah,” you say, unable to stifle your smile any longer.

He grins and ducks his head. He hasn’t shaved today, you note; there’s a little bit of stubble along his jawline.

Your chest hurts. Seeing him, being close to him, just like before. It pulls open the ache of missing him, turning it from a bruise into a wound. You know you shouldn’t. You tell yourself not to. But you do it anyway.

“I miss you.” Your voice is barely louder than a whisper.

He looks so fucking sad. His eyes are huge and pained and so close, and then they dart down to your lips, and you see it; the precise split-second the urge hits him, then the one after as he fights it, and your heart sinks and you’re about to lean back but then his mouth is on yours and it’s soft and it’s warm and unbearably gentle as his hands sweep up to the base of your neck.  It’s not the best kiss you’ve ever had.

You’re twisted uncomfortably to face him. Your hands lay shocked in your lap, and you’re pretty sure he can hear you attempting not to sniffle too much with your breathing, and you’re so busy worrying about it that you forget to open up to him; his tongue touching the edge of your lips. His fingertips brush the stitches at the back of your head and you flinch, pulling away.  “Oh, shit, sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, visibly mortified.   “It’s okay,” you say. “Didn’t hurt. It’s just sensitive.”

“For kissing you,” he clarifies. “I know we’re not, like…you know. Anymore.”

That hurts. You shake your head. “We could be. We could try.”

“I can’t ask you—"

“No. Don’t do that. What do you want?”

He exhales through his nose and a tiny, pained sound escapes with it. “It’s not that easy—“

“It is. It is that easy. What do you want?”

“You have no idea,” he says, suddenly. “God. You have no fucking idea how bad I want you. I want this. You’re the only thing I. Fuck.” He knuckles at his eyes, frustrated. “You just have no idea how bad this could go.”

“I do,” you tell him, gently. “I know exactly how bad it could go. And I’m sorry, Peter. I’m so sorry that happened. It’s so, so fucked up that that happened and I’m so sorry, and I know nothing I can say will ever make any of it any less fucked up, but fucked up things happen. They happen all the time for normal people, too. And fucked up things are going to keep happening and it’s inevitable and it’s part of being alive and that’s why we just need to take that risk every day, and choose to—to try to just be happy in as many stupid fucking hopeless ways as we can anyway, because we deserve to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

He’s staring at you like he wants to believe you. Like he wants to cry. “You need to know,” he says, reaching his hand out, pulling it back. “I can’t promise you this’ll be okay. If you still wanted…I would try. I would try so, so hard for you. Harder than I’ve ever tried at anything. But I—I still just have no way of knowing that it’ll be okay.“

You smile at him, shaky and sure. “That’s any relationship, Parker.”

This time when he kisses you, you’re ready. Your mouth opens eagerly under his, catching the faint metal-salt of his skin, the dryness where his lips are ever-so-slightly windburnt.

All the breath leaves your body in a rush. You shove your hands up through his hair, lifting up onto your knees and sliding across his lap until you’re straddling him on the couch.

He tilts his head back to work his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands sliding up underneath your shirt to find the edges of your bra, and it’s awkward and clumsy and you’re both breathing hard by the time he manages to get your jeans unzipped and his hand cramped into your underwear.

“Holy shit,” you gasp, half-dizzy from kissing without pause. You almost bite him when his fingers find your clit. “Can you—yeah, like that, oh, my God—"

“Hold on, it’d be better if, let me…” he murmurs, frustrated, and you let out what could only be described as a yelp as he lifts your entire weight up to easily shove your jeans and underwear the rest of the way off your legs before settling you back down over his lap.

You’re stuck between trying to grind down against the front of his jeans and trying to give him enough space to work his hand back between your legs, ultimately deciding on the latter as he finds your clit again, this time his attentions unhampered by clothing.

His body hasn’t forgotten yours. It only takes a few moments of searching before he has you melting into the palm of his hand; your bones soft and hot inside you as you roll your eyes closed. It’s easy with him, just like before, but better.

You’re almost close when he eases two fingers inside you, and that’s easy too, so easy, the way you give for him. Your forehead rests against his as your lips come apart; too focused for kissing anymore.

“I missed you,” he breathes, working his wrist. “God, I missed you. I missed you so much.”

You flex your thighs as you rock with the movement of his hand, and that’s when you need to touch him, urgently. It takes a little repositioning before you manage to open his jeans and ease his cock out, wrapping your fingers loosely around him.

You feel him tense and shudder as you stroke him, too slow to really get him anywhere, too lost in the way his long, firm fingers curl inside you.

He noses along your jaw, mouthing lazily at your damp skin, his eyes closed, and then he’s there, right where you need him, and you’re clenching and biting down on the sounds trying to escape as you come apart sudden and hard around him.

You’re still loose-limbed and shaky when he pulls his slick fingers free, gently moving your hand out of the way to grasp himself instead. You feel a little guilty; you’d almost forgotten about him straining in front of you, but he doesn’t seem to care as he jerks himself quick and short in his fist. His other hand cups the swell of your ass as he huffs hot breath into your hair, your neck, coming sudden across the inside of your thigh.

You slump your weight against him.

Neither of you speak for a while. Your hand is curled between your bodies, trapped where it’s warm and you can feel his heart slowing in his chest. He runs his hand absently from your hip to your thigh, then back again.

“Peter,” you murmur.

“Mmm.”

“You do need to promise me one thing, though.”

He moves, just enough that he can look up at you. His cheeks are flushed. “What?”

“We can never. And I mean never. Tell Bear we fucked on her couch.”

His eyes widen in horror. “Oh, my God. She already hates me.”

“I know. But it’s okay, because we’re not gonna tell her.”

“I just don’t know if I can keep that secret; I’m not good at subterfuge, y’know, I’m just not that kinda guy—"

“Yeah, yeah, okay—"

“—and you should see me under pressure; I fold like origami—"

You kiss him again, just to shut him up, and feel his lips curling up against yours.

Your thighs feel sticky and gross, and you’re starting to get cold, and when you get up you nearly fall over from the cramp in your leg from sitting so awkwardly, but you’re too happy to care in the slightest.

You stand together in the bathroom, cleaning each other up. Every time his eyes meet yours in the mirror you both smile again, giggling and getting in each other’s way, like idiots.

It takes twice as long as it should to get back out to the couch, and you’re hoping he’ll curl up with you again but then you catch him glancing toward the window. “You need to go,” you say. It’s not really a question.

He hedges. “I kind of do, but…”

You offer him a little smile. “It’s okay. Go.”

He nods. You walk him to the door, where he pauses. He chews at his thumbnail, looking at you sideways again from under his eyelashes.

You watch him for a few seconds, waiting. “What?” you finally say.

He presses his lips together, runs his hand through his hair. “So. It’s probably, like, kind of weird. To ask. At this…uh, juncture.”

He’s nervous, you realise. It’s excruciatingly endearing. You nudge him. “I feel like weird’s kind of our thing.”

He grins. “Yeah. I guess. So. I was gonna ask if you’d like to go out. For dinner. Friday night.”

There’s absolutely no way to prevent the smile slowly pulling at your mouth. “Peter. Are you asking me on a date?”

He laughs, a little self-conscious huff. “Uh, yeah. Like. I mean, I wanted to way sooner. But. I guess I wanna try doing things properly this time. If you want.”

You can think of a thousand different things to say, but most of them are embarrassing, so you settle for keeping it simple. “Yes. Fuck yes. Obviously.”

He blinks. “Oh, okay, awesome, holy shit. Okay. Should we…? I don’t have your new number.”

“Oh, yeah, I need to get yours again too.” You pull your phone out and make a new contact before handing it to him.

He stares at your screen for a second, then he snorts. “You have me in your phone as ‘p.p.’?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Why? What do you have me as?”

He laughs again, quiet, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He hands your phone back. He takes a few steps out the door, then he sticks his hands in his pockets. “So. I’ll see you?”

“You will,” you tell him, watching the way his jaw juts crookedly when he smiles.

He’s halfway to the elevator, walking backwards, his hands still in his pockets when he calls back to you. “Friday, Miss Jersey.”

You laugh. “Quit disturbing my neighbours.”

You stay there long after he’s gone, leaning against your doorframe, smiling to yourself, aching with stupid, giddy affection.

#peter parker x f!reader #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x f!reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!spiderman x reader #tasm fanfic #tasm fanfiction #tasm imagine #peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter smut #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter fanfiction

271 notes · View notes

literaila · 11 months

Text

untrustworthy

tasm!peter x reader

summary:

"are you mad at me?"

"did you get me bologna sandwiches?"

warnings: angst, alludes to depression, lost of interest, pushing people away, this is a pining fic because they’re not actually together, angst, fluff at the end, peter sucks but he’s also great?

a/n: i haven’t written anything in weeks and this is so terrible but take it or leave it. i am.

if you've learned anything in the past year, it's that you couldn't trust peter parker.

you couldn't trust him to finish his portion of your shared slideshow for your physics class. and you shouldn't have trusted him to tell you if he couldn't get it done before the due date--sparing you both from the wide-eyed, slightly over-amused gazes of classmates who thought peter's "the end" slide was purely a comedic stroke, and not just laziness, or a miserable attempt to pretend he hadn't cost you thirty percent of your grade.

and even after, you couldn't trust him not to give you a look--his signature look--sending you plummeting towards forgiveness before he'd even gotten the chance to apologize.

you couldn't trust peter parker to pick up a mutual friend's birthday cake or get himself home safely without cracking his glasses, or not to eat all of the cookies that may made for you on his way to your apartment. you wouldn't trust him to wash your dishes or sleep on your couch without burning the entire building down.

it was a dangerous thing, you'd realized, about three months after you'd met him, to try and count on him.

peter parker would borrow a pen from you, flicking his hair your way and smiling that charming smile, and then proceed to give it back to you at your thirty-year reunion. or never.

you'd learned not to expect him to show up for anything on time, ask him to pick anything up for you, or let him do laundry in your apartment.

peter parker was anything but dependable. and if you could give the past version of yourself any advice, it would be not to trust him.

not to let that foolish hope exist before it was crumbled between strong hands like a grocery receipt, never to be seen again.

you wouldn't let that faded, reliable version of peter exist.

you couldn't trust peter parker to do anything or make any promise he would actually keep.

you couldn't even trust him to stay away from you when you wanted space the most; like now.

because as soon as you heard that knock on your door, a bitter part of you was scowling at the intrusion, cursing your friend for bothering to exist or always showing up when you didn't want him to.

and you knew that just like every other thing peter did, he wouldn't take no for an answer. even if you didn't answer the door. even if you threw your phone down into the garbage disposal.

you were pretty sure peter could pick a lock. and also slightly suspicious that he'd had a copy of your key made behind your back.

so when peter walks into your living room, hair dripping from the rain, arms full of grocery bags, you aren't surprised.

you barely even blink at him before returning your attention to your tv, where a couple was viciously debating the cost of crown molding.

his presence is its own curse because you can feel every movement he makes, just like always.

"hey," peter says, smiling evilly. he ignores your ignoring. doesn't even mind the fact that you haven't looked at him. "i brought you some stuff."

he kicks his shoes off--into your living room, of course, mud sticking to your carpet--and heads to the kitchen.

"just some basics," he continues, not bothering to listen to any reply, verbal or not. "bread, eggs, milk. i got you some disgusting orange jello and a couple of those pre-made sandwiches they make at the deli. they're a bit... flat, but they should be okay still."

you turn the volume up.

peter doesn't mind. "there's also some protein bars in there--chocolate--just in case you want something quick," he walks back into the room, holding a glass bottle. "and i saw this banana-flavored soda when i was walking out, for us to try and throw up together."

he shakes the bottle around, smile on his idiotic face, not even bothering to think about the harsh reality of carbonation.

"open that over the sink," you mumble to him, still not meeting his eyes.

you curse your weak willpower for ruining your silent game. and peter, for knowing that he would win eventually.

peter tilts his head, tsking at you. "not even a thank you for your very thoughtful, handsome--" he plops down next to you, moving your legs so that he can tickle your feet. "and genius best friend?"

"thanks, peter."

instead of looking over at the man who was definitely trying to get you to yell at him, you choose to watch the ceiling on the tv crumble over brand-new hardwood.

you frown.

peter runs his hand up your calf, goosebumps riding his wake. "are you mad at me?"

"did you get me bologna sandwiches?"

"no, turkey."

"then no."

peter removes his hand. "what's wrong with the bologna?"

"they put rat poison in it."

peter pokes your thigh. "and you've been letting me eat it? you know i love those sandwiches."

you turn even further on your side, wall going up between the two of you, forcing his hand off, mumbling, "wanted to test a theory."

"what theory?"

finally, your eyes meet his--stupid brown, caring, auburn, and hateful eyes. "if rat poison would kill you or not."

peter scoffs.

you let your lip quirk up, irritated at his perfect mouth and thoughtful grocery list, and warm hands climbing up your stomach, and then look away. back to the house infested with termites. if there's anything to hate, it's adoration. the ridiculous attachment you have to him, even now.

"are you calling me a vermin?"

you roll your eyes. "well, you're not dead so..."

and it was all normal. peter sitting this close and trying to mold himself into your skin, the puppy eyes he was trying to give you, and his devious smirk. his teasing and lack of common sense, his stupid jokes, and stupid thoughtfulness, ruining the silent treatment you'd meant to give him. the space you'd been forcing between the two of you.

it was all normal, but you can feel him lurking, waiting for a moment to say something. you can feel him staring at you.

"what?" you say, sharp and rough, after thirty seconds of it being too much. of peter being too close and too quiet.

his presence is a burden on your heart.

peter's hands began to massage your legs, forcing you to let him in closer than you want him to be. "what, what?" he repeats.

your eyes meet his with defenses already prepared. "what are you doing here, peter?"

the words are weapons. one punch to the jaw and a knife shoved into his back.

you're trying to get him off of you, get him out that door and back into the world where he belongs so that you could stay here and rot, just like you want to.

but peter's eyes stay soft, his hands are kind and his intent is obvious. he isn't trying to fight with you.

he blows out a breath. "what're you doing here?"

you both stare at each other for a moment and then you look away, shaking your head. "i live here."

"you know that's not what i mean."

"do i?" you ask, voice sarcastic and mean. and it would be fine--usually. you and peter are mean to each other for sport.

but he wasn't being anything but easy. careful as he stretched your muscles out like he could tell that you hadn't used them in days.

trust peter to break your only rule.

it was silent again; only the sounds of commercials in the background, a woman swearing that aleve changed her life.

peter clears his throat. "why haven't you been answering my calls?"

"lost my phone."

"and class?"

"i've been sick."

"you missed an exam," he pushes. "you're gonna have to make it up."

"already emailed connaly."

"good." peter swallows, and you can feel his pounding, his questions even when he's not asking them.

you want to push him off of the couch. you want to push him off of you, leave bruises from the fall, and tell him to find someone who can be his friend. who can do this.

you want to be understanding, and as careful as he is. you love him enough to not scream, even if you want to.

"peter, i really just want to be alone, so--"

"when's the last time you ate?"

you sigh, pulling away from him.

but peter has a firm hold on your legs, and even if you tried, you couldn't kick him away.

"when was the last time you showered?"

"i've been sick, peter, it doesn't--"

"left the house?" he prods. "or moved from the couch? when was the last time you looked in the mirror?"

you sit up, looking at him without meeting his eyes. "you should go. i could still be contagious." the words are tense, your face is stone, unmoving, and unwilling to do any of this with him.

peter moves closer to you, his hands lingering just inches away from your marble face. "what's going on?" he asks, so softly that you can barely feel it on your plastered skin.

his concern and care, his stupid face and stupid eyes and--

"i can't do this, peter."

"you need to talk to me," he says, without even processing what you've said. "you need to tell me what's happening because it's been almost two weeks since i've seen you, and this..." he gestures around the room.

a place that used to be your home.

"what happened?"

and if anyone could get it out of you--pull the secrets you have hidden in your chest, ignoring your screams of pain--it would be peter. he would be the person that you talked to.

that is if you wanted to talk at all.

if you wanted to move from his couch and look into his eyes like you had been for months before this. like he was more than a classmate, or friend who had stuck to you. like he was someone who you wanted to care about.

someone with perfect lips and wonderful eyes and an addicting laugh.

someone who you might want to tell more, share more.

the person that you'd been a month ago would've told peter. even unsure if he could keep that secret or stay with you, you would've told him. trusted him that much. more than he deserved.

but the person sitting on your couch staring into those same eyes doesn't want anything.

to move or breathe or have to tell peter that you just don't care anymore.

that whatever you have to tell him is gone, that your words and voice have been ripped from your chest, that this couch, this distance you've been trying to build is the only remedy to fix the hole that remains.

but you don't want to see him. you don't want to tell him anything. you don't want to breathe his air and risk infecting him.

"nothing, peter. i'm fine."

"you look like you've spent the last month in the hospital."

"well, you look like a goddamn swimsuit model, so i guess we're even."

you're watching as his serious face shifts, and you can see it as he fights back a laugh, his eyes just barely flickering.

and you wish that you didn't care. you wish so badly that it didn't matter. you look away, thinking to pretend that none of this exists.

you've had enough nightmares like this lately.

"hey," peter says, one fingertip turning your eyes back to his. and you know it's not a dream, because your imagination can never get those eyes just right. "i'm here to listen. whatever it is. we'll work it out. i just need you to talk to me."

"i told you, there's nothing--"

"and you've got to stop lying to me like i can't tell."

you scowl.

peter's eyebrows lift, a fraction of affection appearing on his face. "c'mon, just tell me. i won't laugh."

you look down, at his hand resting on your thigh, and the hole you've burned into the couch.

you don't want to look at his eyes anymore. you're tired of trying to look away. and not talking to him.

you sigh. "nothing, peter. just..." you blink, but it's not enough to push his regard off of you. to rid yourself of the toxins he's breathed into you.

you were almost immune to them, just a few weeks ago. mithridatism only works if it's consistent.

and his eyes are more dangerous when you haven't seen them.

you freeze. "there's nothing," you repeat, defenses falling, hands going to push him away from your face.

and peter knows what's going to happen before you do. "hey," he says, already soothing. "whatever it is..."

and peter grabs you before you fall. he catches that first tear, and it's his forever. his arms fold around your shoulder, his strong hands keeping your head up.

"there's nothing. it's all gone. everything i want, everything i--"

his hands are tilting your face up to his but you can't look at him. you can't look into his perfect eyes and feel ashamed of yourself anymore.

you're sick and tired of feeling sorry for yourself.

"i can't feel anything, peter. i don't want to do anything but sit here and hope that eventually, this feeling goes away. that it all just..." you shake your head, feeling him invade you.

and then you lean in and let peter hold you up.

you hadn't even realized that you were crying. hadn't realized how far down you'd pushed the words until they were bubbling up.

bile crawling up your throat.

"i'm sorry," you whisper to him, just before he crushes you into a hug, your head buried into his neck. your tears staining his perfect skin. "i'm so sorry."

peter shakes his head against you, holding you even closer.

and you can't breathe with how tight he's holding you, but this sort of breathlessness is welcome. much better than the other kind.

you laugh against him, feeling how sore your body is. how angry you are with yourself.

"i've got you," peter whispers, into your hair, kissing your forehead. "we'll figure it out."

you shake your head but say nothing.

you finally breathe him in, desperate after denying yourself for so long. you don't have to worry about anything as long as peter is right there.

"god," he says, after a few minutes pass. "i'm sorry i didn't come sooner. i thought..."

thought you were okay, you can hear. thought that you needed space, that time was a perfect solution.

"not your fault," you mumble into him.

peter leans back, just so that you'll look up at him. "why didn't you tell me? you know i would've come," he says, "if you'd just called."

"i didn't want--" you swallow, looking away. "i didn't want you to know. or see."

peter scowls. "what did you think would happen? i would leave? or tell you to get over yourself?"

"maybe."

"are you insane?"

"maybe."

peter doesn't even laugh. he makes you look at him again, not knowing how cruel those eyes of his are. "i would've stayed," he tells you, "no matter what. even if you told me that you murdered someone. or run over a squirrel with your bike. i would've been there. i'm going to be there."

his jaw is tense and his eyes are so serious, but you sniffle, shaking your head. "even if i murdered a squirrel?"

"i mean... it would be hard. but i'd do it."

you laugh.

he swallows, shaking his head. "you need to tell me what's going on, okay? instead of ghosting me for two weeks, acting like you died or something."

"i answered a couple of your texts."

peter glares at you.

"okay. i'm sorry."

he shakes his head again, almost smiling, if a little bit sad. "are you okay?"

you fall back into him, suffocating yourself into his shoulder. you don't want to answer that, and hope that peter doesn't push.

for once, he does what you want, wrapping his arm back around you, pulling you in closer.

"okay," he says, and breathes with you.

you sit with him for a few seconds, glad that he's there, and then you ask, "how'd you get in?" voice muffled by his shirt.

"it was unlocked, you idiot."

you frown, looking up at him.

peter laughs.

"no, it wasn't."

his eyes return to normal, deviance stuck in his expression. "i used my key," he answers, innocently.

trust peter to ruin the moment.

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom @spideysimpossiblegirl invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @sharkswaters @rowniebow @anaislfbv @take-my-hand-time-boy @mileyc111 @starsval @ratsys

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starsval · 1 year

Text

honest

tasm!peter parker x f!reader

Summary: being best friends and maybe in love with Peter Parker is nice, until certain spider changes everything

Word couny: 10k

Warnings: mentions of wounds, kissing, hickeys, and I think that's all

A/N: it's based on Honest by The Neighbourhood, It's nice to have a friend, King of my heart and Sweet nothing by Taylor Swift.

Also, thanks to @myriadmoons for helping me write this <33

Patience, test my patience

If I made it too hard for you, maybe

“What happened?” You ask Peter, approaching him in the hallway. Immediately noticing the bruise on his face, even though he tried to hide it with the hoodie.

“I fell” He tells you, walking to your first class, which, to his displeasure, you had together.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You ask him as he works as your shield among all the students going to their classes.

“Sometimes” He laughs, trying to change the subject as you both sit in your place.

“Pete, I’m serious. Is it Flash again? I wouldn’t care to threaten him again”

“That only worked because he has a crush on you” He smiles, resting his head on his arms while looking at you.

“Yeah, but it worked, so I take it as a win” He laughs softly, trying to ignore the concerned look you were giving him. “What happened?”

“I fell” He knows by the look in your eyes that you don’t believe him, but he ignores it, just like he ignores your sad expression as you turn your head to the teacher.

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

“Are you okay?” You ask him, opening your bedroom door so he can get inside. You notice the new bruises, of course you do, you always notice.

But you also notice the look in his eyes, telling you to not say anything about it, telling you to just hold him now.

So you do, you hug him. You let him hug you so tight that you’re afraid he might break you.

“I’m better now” He mutters, his voice muffled by your hair.

“I’m glad”

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

You should have changed it

Say it, you should say it

“You don’t even have to tell me” You had told Peter, sitting on the stairs of your porch. “I mean, it’s obvious that I’m not buying the ‘I fell’ bullshit. So just let me help you”

“It’s okay, someone’s- I’m already getting help” And it’s not you. He had told you, getting up and walking away after waving goodbye.

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

“You’re ignoring me” You tell Peter, sitting on his bed with your homework on your lap.

“I’m literally doing homework right now” He says, slightly offended.

“Not right now, I mean lately” He hesitates before talking.

“I’ve been busy, I’m sorry” He finally looks up from his homework, looking at you.

“It’s okay, you know I don’t care about that, just, don’t be a stranger”

“I won’t” He assures you. “Talking about that, I didn’t tell you but I’m friends with Gwen” Then he puts his homework away, because, of course, when it’s about her he has to focus completely. “We started talking the other day and she’s really nice… "

So you just sit there, listening to him, because that’s the most he’s talked to you in days. And because you’re a good friend who’ll listen to anything even though it hurts. Because you don’t want to lose him.

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

Waiting, always waiting

You wait. Even though you shouldn’t. You wait for him, for a text, for a call, for a response, anything. You wait for him to fulfil his promise, that he’d be here to do the work with you. The most important work of the year.

You wait for him to answer all your texts, all your calls. You keep waiting as you do the work, as you start it, as you look up information, as you finish it, as you revise it.

You stop waiting for him to start waiting for an excuse when he opens the door. With new cuts and bruises that had already been taken care of.

“Sorry for being late, I lost track of time” He puts his backpack in the usual place and sits on your bed, behind you. “We can start now”

You turn around in the chair, not waiting anymore since you already got your excuse. You watch the hour on your phone before talking.

“At 11pm?” You ask him, looking at his new bruises, sighing and wishing he told you more about it.

“I know, I’m sorry, it’s just…” He doesn’t continue, because he doesn’t have anything to say.

“I already did it” You inform him, getting up and laying on your bed as you turn on the TV.

“What? But, we were supposed to do it together” He says, offended as he gets up, to discover that, in fact, you already did it.

“It’s due tomorrow” You don’t look at him, instead, you look at the news, talking about the decrease of crime.

“You could’ve waited for me” You look at him now, foolishly hurt by his words. Because that’s all you’ve done lately. Wait for him. “I know I didn’t answer.” ‘I’m sorry’ He doesn’t add. “But it’s like half of the grade” ‘It’s not fair that you had to do it alone’ He forgets to add, again.

“Fuck you Peter” You tell him, eyes again on the TV, refusing to look at him and at his audacity.

“Look, I know that you’re mad, but I was with Gwen, and I lost track of time, and…” He stops talking, either because he realises he mentioned Gwen or because he realises that you don’t care.

“See you tomorrow” You don’t look at him when he mutters a soft ‘good night’. You do look at him when he turns around, picks his backpack and leaves, closing the door behind him.

You don’t go to sleep immediately, even though you should. You add yours and Peter’s names to the work before putting it on your backpack. Then you continue watching the news. Weirdly entertained by the people talking about Spiderman as he swings between buildings.

You watch his back, just as you watched Peter’s. A back that you know too much, a back that you've scratched, a back that you watched leave earlier. And then it all makes sense, well, you still don’t know why he’s ignoring you. But you know the reason behind the bruises, the cuts, the tiredness in his eyes.

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

I wish you could be honest

I wish you could be honest with me

You watch as the teacher corrects the works. Peter watches you. You both watch the teacher walking to your desks. The teacher watches both of you as he talks.

“It’s really good, I still have to correct some things but it’s the better one of the class” He says before walking away, with your work still in his hands.

“You added my name?” Peter asks you, looking at you as you watch the clock, waiting for the class to be over.

“Yes” You answer, now looking at him.

“I didn’t deserve it” He says ‘I didn’t do anything and then made you feel bad about it’ He doesn’t say.

“I know” You keep looking at him, ignoring the shred of hurt in his eyes, and focusing on the exhaustion in them. “Peter, are you honest with me?”

He doesn’t expect the question, but he doesn’t doubt when answering “Of course”

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

Why'd you stick around?

Why'd you stay with me?

Why'd you fake it?

You always did this. It was your tradition. But things have changed lately, so you shouldn't be surprised when he doesn't show up.

You look at the news, waiting to see someone informing you about what Spiderman's doing right now, maybe saving the city again. But nothing. He seems to be sleeping, or ignoring his best friend.

So you give up, put your phone in silence and walk in the cinema. Doing your monthly tradition alone, for the first time.

When you walk out you don't expect to see him there. Looking weirdly anxious. But you don't acknowledge him, you just continue walking.

"I'm sorry" He says as he follows you, standing in front of you when he realises you're not going to stop. You don’t say anything, you just look at him, not even bothering to hide the fact that you’re hurt. Hurt by him, by his actions, by his secrets. “I’m really sorry, I was really occupied and I couldn’t make it and…”

“I can’t keep doing this” You try to walk around him to the door so you can walk to your house. But he stands in front of you again.

“I know, and I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, I promise” And you want to believe him, you really want to, but you can't let yourself get hurt again.

“You could’ve told me” Just like you can tell me that you’re Spiderman. But you don’t say that, because you want him to trust you, although you don’t know why he doesn’t.

“I- my phone-” He stops, because lying isn’t going to get him anywhere. “I forgot”

You smile, even though all you want to do is cry. He forgot his best friend. And why? Before you can ask him, the answer appears behind you.

“Where were you? Oh, hi Y/n” You turn around, to see Gwen smiling at you. You return her the smile and a wave before turning back to Peter.

“Fuck off Peter, and make sure you don’t forget to talk to her” You mutter as you finally walk around him, reaching the door and start the journey to your house.

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

As you walk on the pavement, you notice someone approaching you. You wave at him when you notice who he is. Harry, Peter’s friend. He introduced you two a while ago, and to his surprise, you actually got along.

“Hi” He greets you.

“Hi, I didn’t know you were in town?” You ask him.

“Yeah, I arrived a few days ago. Actually, I was going to Peter’s house, do you want to come?” He asks you, oblivious to the whole situation.

“I was just going to my house, but it was nice to see you again” You tell him, resuming the walk to your house when he starts talking next to you. “You don’t have to.” He cuts you off before you can finish.

“Did something happen? The last time I was here Peter told me that he wouldn’t let you walk home alone, because it’s dangerous, you know?” You sigh, because it’s true, he never did that, until today.

“It’s complicated I guess, but you don’t really have to walk me home, it’s just a ten minutes walk from here”

“It’s okay, I’d like to catch up with you” You give up trying to get him to actually go where he was supposed to and start talking about both of your lifes. “Does Flash still have a crush on you? I don’t think Peter got over the fact that he asked you out”

You laugh, remembering that day. When you’d suggested that maybe he was just jealous, he said that it was because he wanted his best friend to date someone better than Flash.

“He still does, but he hasn’t tried to ask me out again” You stand in front of your porch, turning around to face him. . “Thanks for walking me home, Harry” You smile at him, really thankful that you hadn’t spent the whole walk thinking about Peter.

“It’s okay, I always like talking to you. And about the Peter thing, I’m sure you’ll work it out”

You let out a soft ‘I know’ before saying goodbye to him and walking in your house.

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

Harry doesn’t bring up the matter when he shows up at Peter’s door. Neither when they both start playing video games. Or when Peter starts talking about Gwen. He talks about it when he says that he went to the mall with Gwen.

“That’s why Y/n was going home alone?” He notices how Peter tenses up immediately.

“What?” Peter asks, like he has no idea what he’s talking about.

“I saw her, and I walked her home, she seemed upset” Peter doesn’t say anything, feeling too bad, knowing that he’s the reason why. “I even asked her if Flash still had a crush on her, maybe the next time I shouldn’t be that discreet”

“What?” Peter turns around, the video game long forgotten as the boys talk.

“Maybe I should ask her on a date while I’m here, the worst she can say is no” Harry keeps talking, and maybe he’s being for real, maybe he just wants Peter to react. But all Peter knows is that he’s getting mad, and he doesn’t know why.

“You shouldn’t” He says dryly.

“Why? Is she seeing someone?” Harry asks, getting up to pick up his things.

“No” Peter answers, his jaw tightened as he watches his friend move around the room.

“Then? What’s the problem?” Harry stops for a second, looking at him.

“I don’t want you to date her” Then he moves again, giving Peter his back as he closes his backpack, hiding his smile.

“I thought you were with Gwen?” Peter frowns at that.

“What? No, it’s all platonic” He swears.

“She must be a good friend then. You left Y/n to go with her” Harry can see Peter's face go through all emotions before talking back.

“It’s not like that” He frowns, again, like it's the most obvious thing.

“I don’t know the whole story Peter, but I do know that she was walking home alone –something that you swore you’d never do– and she seemed hurt” After that Harry leaves. Leaving a confused Peter considering all the choices he's made, while looking at the pictures you two have together.

Pictures he took of you when you gave him his new camera for his birthday. Pictures Aunt May insisted on taking one of the first times you went to the cinema together. Pictures you took of him when he was distracted. Pictures he took of you while you were sleeping, because he thought you looked cute, even though you got embarrassed after. Pictures he took of you while falling(and on the floor), after you had assured him that you knew how to skate.

He remembers that after the last one, you almost made him fall again, he also remembers that your actual words were 'Pete what the fuck??, why didn't you help me?' Like he could’ve done anything to help you

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

I hope you find a way

To be yourself someday

You were doing all you could to avoid Peter. You didn’t know if he was trying to talk to you. But you didn’t care. Maybe he wasn’t trying to find you. It's not like it's something new. But you couldn't known

You couldn't avoid each other in the next class, since you guys sat together(for the next two hours).

“Do you like Harry?” He asks you, neither of you had anything to do, while the others finished their homework, you do all you can to not look at him.

“What?” You fail, meeting his gaze as you talk.

“I think he likes you” He adds.

“Okay” You say, dryly.

“Do you like him?” You can’t believe him, it’s the same shit he did with Flash.

“Just leave me alone” You try to ignore his intense gaze.

“I don’t think you should date him” You stop ignoring his eyes now, looking at him and trying to find where his audacity comes from.

“That’s not your problem” You remind him.

He looks at you, because it’s really not. Even if you were still best friends, it wouldn’t be. But then you’d say something like ‘are you jealous?’.

“I know, I know, but he’s-” You cut him off, tired of his shit.

“I don’t care, Peter, why would I?. If I like him or if I don’t, it’s not your problem, so just leave me alone”

He seems hurt, he really does. But you stop looking at him, because maybe if you don’t see him, you won’t notice. And maybe if he doesn’t look at you, he won’t notice your hurt. Or maybe he does and he just doesn't care.

You stay like that the rest of the hour, fighting the urge to not turn your head to him, even when you can notice him looking at you. You fight the urge to not ask him for explanations, to ask him to come back to you.

As soon as the teacher says that you have a free hour, you walk out of the class as soon as you can.

You walk to the bleachers, waiting for the hour to be over so you can just go home. You’re looking at the sky when Peter approaches you, your immediate response is to get up, to try and run away.

“Please- just…” He stays there, standing in a row in front of you. You sit down again, looking at him.

He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you, feeling like he hasn't seen you in forever. He doesn’t talk, you don’t talk. Until you get impatient and try to get up before he talks.

"You don't call me Pete anymore, you know?. You just say Peter, and half of the time is to insult me" You don't know how to react, you don't know what to do with the hurt in his voice. So you just talk, before thinking.

“Are you Spiderman?” You see him trying to say something, trying to lie. But you both know it wouldn’t work. So he doesn’t say anything. He looks at you, frowning.

You laugh.

“You didn’t even try to deny it” You look at him, questioning him, questioning his friendship with you, his friendship with Gwen.

“How long have you known?” He frowns, looking sad.

“Long enough for me to say that you’re not honest” You fight the urge to walk away.

He doesn’t say anything. You know that he’s mad.

You don’t say anything. He knows that you’re mad.

“You shouldn’t know” He finally speaks, looking at you, clenching his jaw.

“I know” Because you do. You know that he’s been trying so hard to hide it from you that you almost lose your friendship, or maybe you already lost it.

“It’s dangerous” He adds

“That’s all you’re gonna say?” You ask him. You both know what you want to hear. I’m sorry for not telling you. I’m sorry for ignoring you. I’m sorry for getting you worried. I’m sorry for almost ruining our friendship.

“What else am I supposed to say?” He doesn’t meet your eyes. Not when you get up. Not when you throw the sweatshirt he’d lent you at him. Not when he barely catches it before it touches the floor. Not when you start to walk away.

“Way to go Parker” You mumble, walking down the stairs.

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

Hesitation, is killing me too

But I couldn't save it

I couldn't save it

"I didn't want her to get involved, it's dangerous, and I-" Peter is sitting in Gween’s bed, his Spiderman suit under his clothes, ready for the night guard. A week after his last conversation with you.

"So you're just going to lose your friendship because of that?” Gween asks, her eyes going back and forth between Peter and her homework.

“I don’t want to lose her. I thought that if I wasn’t around her that much she wouldn't discover it” He admits, his eyes looking down at the mask in his hands.

“Do you think she’s stupid?” Gwen asks, knowing for a fact, that you aren’t stupid.

“That’s the thing. She’s too smart, and she found out even when I ignored her” He sighs, laying in the bed. “I don’t know what to do now. I can’t just go to her and apologise, can I?”

“You could try, but it better be the apologise of the century” She tells him, focused again on the papers before her.

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

Peter keeps thinking about that as he climbs out Gwen's window. While he's swinging between buildings. As he fights for his life.

But, curiously, he doesn't think about it when he goes to your house, when he knocks on the window. He just does it, like you're a magnet who's attracting him, leaving him no choice but to get close to you. He does it as a reflex action. Like he knows that you'll always be there for him.

And sadly, you will.

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

Is this the end of all the endings?

Peter used to go to your house when he couldn’t sleep, he just knocked on the window, waiting for you to get up and let him in. But you didn’t expect him to do it right now. Especially no in his Spiderman suit.

“What the fuck happened to you?” You ask him, not even bothering to close the window. Knowing that he’d close it for you. Like always.

He sits on your desk chair as you look for your first aid kit, the one that you’d bought when Peter started to skate.

"I'm hurt" He talks, slowly moving the chair close to the bed, where you're waiting with all the supplies.

"Yeah no shit" You roll your eyes, carefully cleaning his wounds.

"I'm sorry" He suddenly says, after watching you in silence, admiring you as you healed him.

You admire him too, his hands as he holds tight to the chair, his chest as he breathes in, as he breathes out. His face as you clean the blood out of it. The look in his eyes as you keep your hands on his face longer than necessary.

"What are you doing here?" Your eyes go from his wounded chest to his eyes.

"I missed you" You stop for a bit when he says that, and you're sure he notices, but you quickly bandage the wound and get up to get him some clothes.

"It's not fair, it's not fucking fair that after everything you're just here. Telling me that you missed me. It's not fair Peter" You swear you can see something change in his eyes as he hears the name. "And I'm here, acting like nothing happened, like it's the fucking same, like my best fri-" You don't finish the word. "Like you aren't Spiderman. It's not fucking fair"

You finally tell him, looking through your closet, like the fact that you're far from him will help you ignore the attraction you're feeling.

And then it hits you, you've felt like this for a while. You've been attracted to him for a while. And with everything that had happened, you couldn't stop and think about it.

Because maybe the fact that you lost your best friend hurts more than the fact that you're in love with him. Just maybe.

"I know" He says as he gets up, walking to the bathroom to put on the clothes that you just gave him. He leaves a confused you cleaning your room, feeling your heart shrink a bit when you see all of the tissues covered in blood.

After going to the kitchen to throw everything that you had used, you come back to Peter sitting in your bed. Looking at his hands, only looking away when you sit next to him.

“I’m sorry” He admits, almost in a whisper.

“Stop saying that you’re sorry” You ask him.

“But I really am” He whispers, again

“You should’ve thought of it before you… before everything” You look down, and then at him.

“I know, but it’s not my fault that I’m Spiderman and I’m really sorry” You look away, slightly hurt by the fact that he thinks you would blame him for that.

“What are you even sorry for?”

“I’m sorry for lying to you, for ignoring you, for making you feel bad, for ruining our friendship” He says the last words like they hurt. “I’m sorry for everything, honestly. For talking the way I did about the Harry thing. For not apologising sooner. For ignoring you because of Gwen, who’s just my friend, by the way. I’m sorry” You don’t look at him, because if you do, you know you’ll do something stupid, like hugging him, or telling him that everything’s fine.

“I think you should go, maybe May is waiting for you” You get up, feeling his gaze on you as you continue to pack your suitcase.

“Why are you saying that after I apologised?” You let out a small laugh, looking through your t-shirts.

“Do you think an apology solves everything?” You hear him sigh, passing a hand through his hair.

“I- What? No, I thought you’d be more understanding” You stop for a bit, breathing in and breathing out, trying to not get mad at him.

“What?” You turn around slowly.

“You always say that people deserve second chances” He says, afraid of what your reaction will be.

“And how many chances have I given you Peter, I could’ve fucking left you as soon as you started ignoring me. But no, you hug me and everything's okay, I’m your best friend again and we’re fine. Just for you to go and ignore me, again!. What the fuck do you want me to do? Have zero self respect and go back to you just because ‘you’re sorry’?. And don’t even talk about second chances, because you’d had so many fucking chances, and all you do is fuck it up!.” You throw a t-shirt into the suitcase. “If you want me to just forget everything just because you apologised, it better be the bigger apologise anyone has seen, because I’m so fucking tired of everything“ Now you throw a hoodie. “All I ever wanted was for you to be honest, but you couldn’t even do that, so I just, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Where are you going?” He says, like he just noticed that you're packing your things. Catching a t-shirt before it can land into the suitcase.

“Are you telling me that that’s the part you chose to care about?” You ask him, snatching the t-shirt from his hands and throwing it in the suitcase again. Just for him to catch it.

“Yeah, where are you going?” He raises his arm above his head when you try to steal the fabric from his hands.

"You're fucking unbelievable Peter, I'm going to my aunts" You finally catch your T-shirt and put it on the suitcase.

"What? You won't be happy there?" He replies.

“And who says I'm happy here?” You don't look at him as you pick up another T-shirt from your closet. When you turn around, Peter’s emptying your suitcase. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Don’t be immature, just stay here, there’s no need to go there” He pushes your hands when you try to stop him.

“Oh, so I’m being the immature one? Sorry, Mr. I didn’t want my best friend to find out that I’m Spiderman so I just stopped talking to her” You put the clothes that he’s putting on the floor into the suitcase, just as he does the opposite in front of you.

“Oh, I have to get Harry to walk me home because I can’t do it alone” He replies, determined to unpack your suitcase.

“Oh, I can’t even text my best friend to tell her that I ditched her because I was with other girl”

“I already told you we’re just friends. Are you jealous?” He looks at you for a moment, making you take advantage of him and quickly fill up your suitcase.

“You wish I was jealous” You give up, and just watch as Peter empties your suitcase. “Stop being immature and go home”

“Maybe I do wish that you'd be jealous” He drawls, looking down at his work(your clothes on the floor).

“Just go home” You say again, getting up and walking to your closet. He quickly gets up again, and you think is to leave, but he’s next to you immediately.

“I didn’t want you to worry, or be in danger. So it was better to just stop talking to you, because I didn’t have to see your face when you saw the bruises. And I just couldn’t stand the fact that if you knew, you’d be in danger. And I know I fucked up, I’m sorry, I regret it everyday, I just want us to be okay” He admits, looking down at you.

“Are you fucking stupid?” You look at him, confused. “You didn’t want me to worry? So you just ignored me? You’re the dumbest person I’ve ever known. What if something happened to you? What if you fucking died? I’ll be here not knowing that it was because you’re fucking Spiderman –I mean, I would’ve figured it out, but still–. And the ‘being in danger’ shit, I have no fucking words, you think I care about that? You’re so fucking stupid Peter” You turn around and pick your clothes from the floor as you mutter ‘so fucking stupid’.

“You still care about me?” He asks, looking at you, impatiently waiting for your answer.

“You’re actually dumb…” You consider. “Of course I do” His eyes light up.

“Does that mean you forgive me?” He gets closer to you.

“No, I’m still waiting for the biggest apology anyone has ever seen” You start to pack your clothes again.

“You’re still going?” He frowns.

“Yes, I’m leaving tomorrow, so, goodbye Peter” You finish packing and you stay there, looking through the window, where Peter was just minutes ago.

And you know that he is really sorry, but you couldn't give it to him that easily. You'll forgive him as soon as you see the biggest apology you've ever seen.

Because you miss him, you miss your best friend, the guy you've been pining over for a year, the guy who used to walk you home everyday. You miss the insignificant fights you'd have about the homework, about the movie you'll see. You miss Peter Parker.

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

You think about last night as you watch through the window of the taxi, about how close your bodies were for a moment, about everything he said, about the jealous thing. About the fact that you’re still waiting for his apology.

That’s when you see it, the biggest apology you’ve ever seen. Just in front of you everyone, but just for you. After you tell the driver to stop the car you get out of it as soon as possible, looking at the “I’m sorry” made of webs.

Just when you start to look around, Peter grabs you, and you honestly don’t know how but you end up above the words. Looking at him, and hugging him, because, it’s so fucking scary.

“I’m sorry” He says, after taking out his mask. Looking at you with soft eyes.

“I can tell” You say, looking at his eyes, just so you don’t look down, and because you missed his eyes.

“Is that the biggest apology you’ve ever seen?” He asks, suddenly nervous.

“Yes it is” You talk as you look around you, observing the city. “You’re fucking Spiderman, that’s unbelievable, like, out of all the people, you, that’s so fucking crazy” When you look back at him, he looks like he isn’t breathing. “Yes, Pete, I forgive you, I thought about last night and it was kinda funny, you know? The whole suitcase situation. I missed that, I missed you”

Once the words leave your mouth he smiles like he just won a contest and hugs you. He hugs you like he hasn’t done in a while, and you hug him back, happy to have your best friend back.

“Yeah, I get it, but, um, could we get down? Love the views, but it’s scary” You say, smiling.

“Shit, yes sure” He seems to remember where you two are and puts the mask on before taking you to the taxi.

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

My broken bones are mending

With all these nights we're spending

"I'm sorry" Peter says as he sits on your bed.

"Don't apologise" You tell him, cleaning the wounds on his neck.

"I'll buy you another first aid kit" You smile, patching up his face.

"Well, I hope I won't need it" He chuckles a bit, knowing that you probably will have to.

"Thank you"

"I'm your best friend Peter, and I have morals, if Spider-man was on my window dying I'll help him"

"What if it's a fake Spider-man?" He grins through the pain.

"You think I won't recognise you?" You ask, indicating him to roll down the top of his suit so you can look at the wounds. "Does it hurt?" You look at the bruises on his side.

"I'm better now" He slowly gets up and grabs the clothes you let out for him.

"I'm glad" You smile, cleaning and throwing everything you've used.

When he comes out of the bathroom, already in normal clothes, you're in bed, scrolling down your phone.

"I should leave" He says as he picks up his backpack.

"Stay here Peter" You talk, patting the space you left him next to you.

"Are you sure? I don't want to bother" He says, even though he's smiling.

"Yes, I'm sure" You don't bother to look up your phone. "There's a lot of gossip we have to discuss"

You do look up your phone when he lays down next to you and covers both of you with the blanket.

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

Up on the roof with a school girl crush

Drinking beer out of plastic cups

Say you fancy me, not fancy stuff

You notice people staring at you as you enter the house. You follow Peter through the crowd, and wonder if the music and the smell of alcohol are bothering him.

"I'll get something to drink" Peter talks through the music, once you've found a not so packed corner in one of the rooms.

"If you insist" You smile back at him as he walks away.

You're looking at his back when someone approaches you.

"What are you doing here alone?" Some guy asks you, leaning on the wall behind you.

"Who said I was alone?" You reply, not smiling, rather grimacing from the smell of alcohol he gives off.

"Well, I don't see anyone around right now" He says, looking around, ignoring the fact that you're not even looking at him.

"Maybe it's because I don't wanna talk to anyone" You simply answer.

"You're kicking me out?" He still smiles, even though he wants to look offended.

"I don't know, am I?" You give him a fake smile, just before Peter appears with two cups, and after you grab one, he passes his arm around your waist, facing that guy.

"So you weren't alone" The guy mutters, looking at Peter's arm around you.

"If you wanted to keep her company, you can leave, I'm already here" Peter grinns, oblivious to the look the guy gives him before turning around to bother someone else.

"What was that?" Peter doesn't answer, instead he pulls away and grabs your hand, leading you upstairs, to one of the balconies of the house. "What was that?" You ask again, seeing that he's too focused on his cup.

"He was bothering you" He simply answers, smiling at you, as you both sit on the floor, leaning your back on the wall.

"How did you know that? Maybe I was having a good time" You question, smiling back at him.

"With that look on your face? I doubt it" He raises an eyebrow before raising the cup to his lips.

"Maybe that's my way of flirting. Showing no interest. They seem to like that" You shrug, smiling.

"So you were flirting?" His jaw tightens a bit, looking directly at you.

"What if I was?" You hold his gaze, waiting for any kind of reaction.

But the only thing he does is take out a bottle of alcohol from under his jacket. "What the fuck?" You smile, taking it from as he hands it to you.

"Though it'd be nice to have something just for us" He smiles as you pour it in your cups.

"But you didn't answer" You remind him.

"I mean, I'm your best friend, I have to approve them first" He jokes.

"That's the reason?" You half close your eyes.

"Yes" He looks away, drinking.

"You sure? No other reason?" You insist, stretching out your arm to poke his cheek.

"Yes" He moves away, fighting his smile.

"Are you really sure?" You scoot over to be closer to him, still poking his cheek.

"Yes, I'm sure, okay?" He finally lets the smile out and grabs your wrist as he pulls away.

"No, not okay, I don't believe you" You try to get your hand free, but he holds it tighter.

"Why don't you believe me?" He asks you.

"You don't seem believable" You smile, looking at him as you drink.

"Maybe it's you who doesn't want to believe me" He talks back.

"Maybe" You shrug.

"But for what reason?" He insists, leaning to see your face.

"I don't know" You sigh, drinking the rest of your cup. "But it's true that you don't seem believable"

"So you don't believe me and I don't believe you, we're even" He smiles, knowing there’s no point in trying to get you to talk.

"I guess" You smile back at him.

At some point, maybe when you're talking about the stars or when you finish the bottle. You find yourself on Peter's lap, his lips on yours and his hands on your hair.

You feel the grip he has on you, and how his lips go to your neck, you also feel him smirking against your skin.

And you also hear someone knocking on the door, making you pull away immediately.

You don't talk, not when you get up, or when he holds your hand to lead you through the people. You talk when he's walking you home.

"Can we not talk about that?" You ask, a hand on your neck to feel the hickey he gave you.

"Why?" He says, looking at the hand on your neck, and remembering how it felt to do that.

"We were drunk, Peter, it was a mistake" You remind him.

"Yeah, sure, we won't talk about it" He says, and maybe he means it, because even when he's drunk, he hasn't forgotten about the fact that he's spiderman.

He tries to not be obvious when he's saying goodbye to you, but you still notice him looking at it.

"Peter, stop looking" He smiles.

"I'm not looking" He says, looking directly at your neck.

"You're drunk" You remind him, giving him your back to open your door.

"Kinda" He replies, grinning.

"You should stay" When you turn around, he's still smiling. "Peter if you talk about it i'll kick you out" You remind him as you close the door, both of you already inside.

"Maybe it's worth it" He stops smiling when you leave him alone and walk to your room, mumbling something about a 'mistake', that's all he could hear.

But he keeps his promise and doesn't talk about it. He wants to, but he conforms with having you under his arm while you watch a movie.

He doesn't talk about the next days either, not even when you put makeup on your neck to hide it. And weeks pass, but neither of you have forgotten about it.

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

School bell rings, walk me home

Sidewalk chalk covered in snow

Lost my gloves, you give me one

You were walking home from Harry's, after saying goodbye to him, who leaves tomorrow. Peter's walking by your side. He's huffily talking about the fact that some classmate of yours never stops talking.

"You also talk in class" You remind him, rubbing your hands together to get some warmth in them, you accidentally left your gloves in Harry's house, you already texted him to consider it a parting gift.

"Yeah, to you, it's not the same" He says, taking the glove of his right hand off.

"Why not?" You ask when you see what he's doing. "What are you doing, you're gonna get cold" You say, walking away from him when he tries to give you his glove.

"At least let me give you one" He replies, and he's faster than you, so he quickly grabs your right wrist and puts the glove on.

"What about your other hand?" You ask, still refusing to make him cold, even though he's Spiderman, so it's not that of a problem.

"You'll grab it, and then it won't be cold, okay?" He doesn't give you a chance to protest as he grabs your ungloved hand and starts walking to his house. "And it's not the same because you're worth talking to"

"You're biassed" You tell him, smiling.

"Me? I'd never, how dare you say that" He puts the hand you're not holding in his chest, acting offended.

“Of course you’d never, you react the same when I talk and when Flash talks” You remind him, looking at the snow on the floor.

“That’s because you’re not a shitty person” He says, suddenly grumpy when he talks about him.

“You say that ‘cause you’re I’m your best friend” You look at him.

“Everyone can tell that you’re a good person” He says, genuinely,

“You’re still biassed” You remind him.

“Nonsense, even if I wasn’t your best friend I could still tell that you are a good person” He seems ready to defend his argument with his life.

“How could you tell that?” You ask, curious.

“Because of your aura” You look at him, sceptical “And because you’re pretty” You look away, so he doesn’t notice how flustered you are. But of course he notices, and of course he smiles. Because neither of you have forgotten the ‘maybe I wish you were jealous’ thing, or the fact that you made out at that party.

You don’t say anything, instead, you urge him to walk faster so you can get in his house already. When you walk in, you're greeted by Aunt May, who gives you a big hug.

"Oh sweetie, I missed you so much, you should've told me and I'd make sure that Peter isn't dumb, you're the best that has ever happened to him, I can't believe he almost lost you. Men are so stupid sometimes" She talks as she gives his nephews a bad look.

“Thanks Aunt May” He says, taking off his coat before helping you take off your own as soon as May breaks the hug. “My own family is against me, I can’t believe it”

“It’s okay” You assure her “I could handle him on my own. And they’re really dumb sometimes” You agree with her before following Peter to his room.

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

Light pink sky up on the roof

Sun sinks down, no curfew

After finishing your homework, gossiping and playing video games, you’re both on Peter’s roof, a blanket around both of you as you watch the sunset.

“What about bug-boy, web-head, spidey?” Peter shakes his head with each nickname. “I don’t care, I like spidey”

“Really? I’d prefer bug-boy honestly” He admits, making you smile before looking at your phone, who just made a notification sound.

“What the fuck?” You mutter.

“What?” Peter asks, leaning over your shoulder to see what you’re talking about.

“Flash just asked me on a date?” You say, still looking at your phone.

“Why does he have your number?” He frowns.

“That’s what you care about, really?” You look at him, and you roll your eyes when you see, that, in fact, that’s what he cares about. “I used to tutor him”

“Oh” He seems to relax, but then he frowns again “Didn’t you reject him once?”

“Yes, but he quite didn’t believe that I didn’t like him, so as a last resource, I told him I had a boyfriend” You tell him, looking at your phone, thinking about a way to turn him down.

“And he just believed you? He didn’t ask who he was?” He says, asking himself why he didn’t know any of this.

“I mean, yes” You doubt before talking. “I told him I was dating you, and I also told him that if he ever bothered you again then he’d actually never have a chance with me, so, yeah” You rant, and when he doesn’t say anything, you keep talking. “I guess he saw that we weren’t that close anymore and assumed we broke up”

“And he just- he believed it? He didn’t question it?” He frowns again.

“Actually, he said that it made sense and walked away” You shrug, looking at your phone.

“What? Do we look like a couple?” He asks and prays that you don’t look up to see the smile on his face.

“Should I tell him that we’re back together?” You avoid the question.

“That’d work” He waits to talk again after you type your response.“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Something gave you the nerve

To touch my hand

“Didn’t seem important” You don’t look at him, instead, you look at your phone, which seems to make him lose his patience. So he grabs the hand you’re using to grab your phone and puts it down between both of you, with his on top.

“It didn’t seem important that people could think that we’re dating?” He asks, thanking the sound of the birds, because he thinks that if it were silence, you could hear his heartbeat.

“Does it bother you?” He almost jumps with the assumption.

“What?- Are you crazy?, no- Why would that bother me?. Does it bother you? Well I don’t think so because you’re the one that said it. But it definitely doesn’t bother me. Like, I’d be honoured if someone came to me and asked ‘Are you dating Y/n’. Actually, I’d be more honoured if we were dating for real, you know?” He stops his ranting when he notices what he just said, and just closes his eyes, thinking about swinging out of this situation.

When you don’t say anything, he looks at you, seeing you wide-eyed, fighting a smile.

“Is that your way to ask me to be your girlfriend?” He doesn’t answer, he just looks at your mouth, just as you look at his mouth, who’s fighting to say something.

But the words don’t come out of his mouth, instead, he gets closer to you, and you back down a bit, slightly opening your mouth, looking down at his.

“Easy bug-boy” You smile, reminding the wound you cleaned up just a few hours ago. Also reminding him that you’re supposed to be his best friend.

“What’d you call me?” He whispers, laughing before sighing, so mesmerised by you. You smile, and back away, feeling like you’re in heaven when he sighs again.

“You said you liked that, I could call you Spidey if you wante-” You stop talking, his lips almost touching yours. The hand that was on top of your, goes to one side on your neck. “Peter, we shouldn't” You talk, trying to not lose your breath almost.

“I know” He drawls. And that’s when you give in. His lips go to your neck and you can’t take it anymore. When he’s in front of you again, you stop backing away and lean forward.

When your lips meet you feel like you’re going to die. The cold that you were feeling goes away. And you don’t care anymore about the people that could see you.

You just focus on his mouth, so needy for you. His hands, touching you to make sure you won't go away. His body, practically hovering over you.

He's fighting so bad his impulses to not bite your lip, because he's been waiting for this for a long time. But he does anyway, and he seems proud of himself when he hears the sound you make.

His hand moves to the back of your neck, and he moves your head so he can kiss you better. You let him do whatever he wants, and you groan when he stops kissing you.

He laughs after seeing your face, and his lips go to your neck immediately. His other hand goes to your waist, and while you use one to support your body, the other goes to Peter's hair. Which you keep touching when his lips are touching yours again.

He's practically on top of you, and he's about to make you lay down, but you hear someone walking down the street.

So you pull away, and after realising what you just did, both of your hands leave each others body immediately.

"That was a bad idea" You say, barely breathing.

"I'm in love with you" The breath you just catched goes away, and his eyes search for your gaze after he rants. "I'm so in love with you I don't think it's normal. Because you're so, perfect, and I know I don't deserve you"

"Don't say that" You frown.

"You're too nice and I'm so…" He looks at his hands.

"Peter, don't say that" You repeat.

"And I know it's selfish for me to tell you, but we just kissed" He smiles. "And I get it if you don't feel the same but-" You don't give him a chance to continue talking, instead. You grab his face with your hands and kiss him again. This time it's softer, and you just wish that he gets what you mean. You hope that he knows that you're also in love with him, that you love him so much you want to die.

When you pull away, you rest your forehead on his, closing your eyes, because you're sure that the intensity of his gaze might decompose you.

"I love you so much you don't get it. And don't ever say that you don't deserve me. You're so…" You sigh, not able to express it right now. "I'm in love with you, Peter"

"Are you sure?" You look at him, actually wondering if he's being for real.

"We just kissed?" You tell him, to make sure if he remembers.

"You kiss a lot of people that you don't love" He says, thinking about the parties you used to attend every weekend.

"Did you give me a hickey?" You ask, touching your neck.

"You're changing the subject" He closes his eyes halfway. You sigh.

"You're the one changing the subject" You talk back.

"Why would I change the subject?" He sounds offended, even though he's smiling.

"Because you don't want to believe that I'm in love with you" He smiles "Because you think you don't deserve me" He stops smiling "Which is the dumbest thing you've ever said, and it's saying something, because you say a lot of stupid shit" He smiles again.

"Because it's true, it's dangerous, what would they do knowing that you're Spiderman's girlfriend?" He stops smiling, and looks away, regretting everything.

"I'm already your best friend" You remind him.

"It wouldn't be the same, they love that cliche where they get the hero's girlfriend" He scowls.

"They probably think we're already dating" You see him fighting a smile.

"But still-" You roll your eyes, tired of this.

"I'm sure, I'm in love with you" You tell him. And he smiles, he looks so fucking happy, especially when he talks again.

"I did, in fact, give you a hickey" He looks at it, and grabs your wrist when you try to hit him. He doesn't let it go, instead, he puts it down and grabs your hand. "Does that mean you want to be my girlfriend?"

"No, we just ate each other's faces and confessed our love but I won't be your girlfriend, idiot" You say, sarcastically.

"Is that how you talk to the boy you love? No wonder you're single" He rolls his eyes.

"We aren't even together and you're already leaving me" You frown, but it quickly turns into a smile.

"I would never" He assures.

"Yes Peter, I want to be your girlfriend"

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

"Weren't you already dating?" Is what uncle Ben and aunt May ask you when you walk in holding hands a week later.

"What? No" You both say, at the same time.

"Oh, congratulations then" May says, having an excuse to hug both of you again.

"Took you long enough to get the girl" Ben says, but smiles anyway, giving Peter's back a pat.

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

It’s nice to have a friend

You were walking around Peter's room, he just came back from his usual duty as Spider-man, and was finishing some homework.

"This is new" You tell him, taking a book out of the bookcase, and showing it to him.

"What?" He looks up, and when he sees what's in your hand, his face goes red. Making you frown.

"What's this?" You ask him, smiling as he gets up slowly, afraid that a sudden move might make you open the book.

"Nothing" He lies, walking a step forward, making you back away immediately.

"That's not true, what is it?" You ask again, and before you can look at the book, it flies away from your hand. When you look at Peter, he's taking the webs out of the cover.

"Nothing" This time you're the one who walks forward, closing your eyes halfway.

“What are you hiding?” You’re getting closer to him, actually afraid that he might jump out of the window.

“What do you mean? I’m not hiding anything” He talks as he hides the book behind his back. Once you’re in front of him, he sticks the book on the ceiling and grabs your face so he can kiss it when you look upward.

“Kisses are not going to get you out of this, why are you so embarrassed of a book?” You don’t move when he continues kissing you.

“I’m not embarrassed” You look at his face, almost as red as his suit. “And how are you going to get it out of there anyway?”

“I’m sure May would love to see that” You start to walk away when he wraps his arms around you, laughing.

"Promise you won't laugh at me" He talks, with his arms still hugging you.

"I promise" You assure him, and after he hears it, he jumps and effortlessly sticks to the ceiling, grabbing the book.

He gives it to you and turns around, muttering something about homework.

When you open it you see a lot of pictures, professional ones, polaroids, and even printed from his phone. There's photos of both of you together, of you, and of the things that you like.

Photos of you trying to do your makeup, reading in class, studying, sleeping, crying from laughter. You petting a dog, a cat, running away from a bug. You holding a test that has a 100 written on it. You sitting on a bench while reading a book.

Selfies that you took when he was distracted, when he was texting Flash to leave you alone, when you arrived at your first party. Photos of him doing homework while you sat in his bed. There's one of May and you trying to bake while Peter and Ben are trying to help. You kissing his cheek, and him kissing yours.

Photos of the flowers you saw on the street once and said that you like, a certain street that gave you good vibes, some of the drawings you made of both of you in class. Photos of the matching keychains you made for you to share.

Apart from the date in which the photo was taken, there's annotations under every single photo. Some of them say 'I love you so much', or, 'You fell down right after I took this photo'.

He put his thoughts under each picture, even when it's just 'You look hot in this one'. And that photo was from when you two were just best friends. He also put 'I made that ;)' under the photo where you can see a hickey on your neck.

The book is full of every moment of your friendship, even when that moment was you trying to cut Peter's hair. There was everything, sad thoughts, happy thoughts, normal teenager thoughts.

After you look at every single page, you look up to see Peter watching you.

"Do you think I'm crazy?" He asks after you two just stare at each other.

'What? Why would I think that?" You frown, sitting next to him in his bed.

"Because I made that" He avoids your gaze.

"And it's beautiful Peter, I love it, it's amazing" You hug his side, leaving the book on the chair.

"Are you lying?" He asks and you laugh, rolling your eyes

"You're the dumbest person I know" You lay down as you talk, making him lay down next to you, he turns around so you're facing each other.

"You say that a lot" He frowns, looking almost offended.

"Because it's true, why would I lie? I love it" You see him fighting a smile.

"Thank you" He stops fighting and grins.

"Did you really think I looked hot that day? I remember that you took a lot of photos" He hugs you and hides his face on your neck, and laughs.

"Really?" He talks with his face still on your neck.

"Yes, because if I remember well, we were best friends, you know? Do you think it's normal thinking about your best friend that way?" You grab his face in your hands, making him look at you as you talk.

"Like you're one to talk" He rolls his eyes.

"I'm sorry? I've never thought that" You add, innocently.

"Because I didn't see you almost drool when I wore that outfit you bought me" You smile thinking about it, wondering how you got him to accept your gift.

"You looked hot, you should wear it again" You smile, giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

"Didn't you say you never thought that?" He closes his eyes halfway, leaning in to kiss you again.

"But we're already dating, dumbass" You smile

"Right"

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

They said the end is coming

"What if something happens to you because of me?" You see him trying to hold the tears in his eyes.

"No, listen, listen-" You try to talk, but he doesn't seem to care.

"No, wait, wait, wait" He cuts you off, not willing to let you talk. "I cannot let that happen"

"Listen to me" You get closer to him, so he has no choice but to lean on the wall behind him. "You're Spider-Man, and I love that. But I love Peter Parker more, I always loved you, with no Spider bite and all, with glasses, contact lenses or whatever, that's not gonna change" You search for his gaze. "That's worth it to me"

"I can't lose you" He says, looking directly into your eyes.

"If because you can't lose me, we can't be together, who does that work out for, Peter?" You ask, already knowing the answer.

"I can't, I'm sorry Y/n" You look away, laughing as the tears begin to fill your eyes.

"Wow. You've done this to me again and again Peter. I can't live like this" You take a step backwards as you talk.

"I know, I'm sorry" He doesn't move, instead, he looks at you. "We should break up" He says, so quietly that you have to lean forwards to make sure you heard him right.

"What?" You ask him.

"We should break up" You stare at him, not showing any emotion.

"No" You simply say, crossing your arms.

"What?- You can't say no to a break up?" He frowns.

"I can, and I do, we are not breaking up" You remind him.

"Y/n… It's for the best" He looks down.

"No" You cross your arms. He sighs, passing a hand through his hair.

"Look-"

"I said I can't live like this, but not in that way. You can break up with me when you stop loving me, or when being with me hurts you. But not because of self sabotaging" You don’t talk for a second, letting him process the information. “So, I’m gonna go, talk to me when you don’t want to break up with me”

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

When you open your shared playlist the morning after, you see that the most recent added song is Afterglow-Taylor Swift

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

Everyone’s up to something

You don’t see Peter until the night after your ‘break up’. He is on your door, with flowers in his hands and sorrys on his lips.

“I’m sorry” He talks as you let him in, scanning his body for new bruises.

“Are you okay?” You ask, grabbing the flowers to put them in a vase.

“You’re too good for me” He mutters as you lead him to the couch, making him sit next to you.

“Stop saying that” You remind him, grabbing his hand.

“I’m sorry” He looks at you, nothing but honesty in his eyes.

“You came here to tell me something, didn’t you?” He nods, still looking for madness in your eyes. “Then do it”

“I don’t want to break up with you, but I don’t want to lose you. If something happened to you because of me, I’d never forgive me. But you make me happy, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, I don’t want to lose you” He hugs you, not sure if you’re the one who’s going to break up with him.

“You won’t lose me Peter, they won’t hurt me, if I survived Flash’s tries to flirt with me, I’ll survive anything. I promise” He stays silent for a moment, chuckling at the Flash's mention. Then, he talks.

“I love you”

“I love you too”

He stays there for the night, giving you nothing but kisses, hugs and sweet nothings.

🕸 ⊹ ⋆

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

“Shut up” Peter says, finally getting up from the chair and walking to his bed, where you're laying.

“No, I’m being for real, hear me out” He suddenly lies on top of you, leaving you unable to get up, but you keep talking. “We make T-shirts with exclusive pictures, and boom, we’re rich”

“You really want to sell my pictures?” He puts his head on your chest, closing his eyes.

“What about one with no shirt and the mask, to keep your identity safe-” Even though he’s not looking, he can feel your smile as he covers your mouth with his hand.

“Let’s sleep” You laugh, pulling his hand away from your face.

“We could be rich” You remind him.

“Shut up” He chuckles, lifting his head to look at you.

“Okay, maybe not sell them to the press, but” He waits for you to finish, raising his

eyebrows.

“Don’t you think Flash would want a T-shirt from the actual Spiderman?”

He doesn’t react for a moment, considering if you’re being serious or not, then, he kisses you, a quick peck, giving you no time to react.

“I’m so in love with you” He says, his head on your chest again.

"I'm so in love with you too" You tell him, with your hand through his hair.

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter fluff #tasm peter parker #tasm peter x reader #best friends to lovers

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mortwig · 2 years

Text

Flowers In Your Hair

Entry for the amazing’s @wicked-remarks ‘ “Kink or Treat”!

18+ EXPLICIT [minors DNI] - Peter Parker/Spider-man fanfic

Words: 4,8k

Pairing: fem!OC* x Peter Parker (based on TASM!Peter but flexible)

Summary: Flower Shop + Sex Pollen + (kind of) Professional Rivals

Tags: 18+ explicit, mostly strangers to lovers, smut, nudity, vaginal sex, mild praise kink, oral sex (both F and M receiving), no bed in sight, some fluff, all characters are 18+.

Song inspo: Flowers in Your Hair by The Lumineers

Moodboard: here

*[I say OC because it’s written in the third person, but can be read as reader because she uses a codename the whole time and her physical appearance is barely described]

The bell over the door rang for the third time that day, and Peter barely had the energy to look up. It was probably someone “just looking” or a tourist hoping to take some aesthetic shots for their travel log. Slow days like this made him want to close the shop and swing himself far far away from here.

He had been trying for a good hour to focus on the physics problem due for tomorrow evening’s class. Frustrated from the lack of inspiration, he finally looked up to see a young woman admiring the carnations displayed near the door.

“Good morning!” Peter said in his best customer service voice, stifling a yawn. “If you need anything let me know.”

“I will, thank you.” The woman shot him a smile that barely reached her eyes. She seemed focused... Too focused for a simple visit to the flower shop, Peter noticed.

Peter’s tingle rang loudly at the back of his mind, pulling him off his stool. He cleared his throat and casually made his way to the woman.

“They are just beautiful, aren’t they? Those yellow ones arrived only this morning.”

She hummed an approval and took a step away from him, now seemingly inspecting the coloured roses.

“Disappointment.” Peter intended for his tone to be playfully stern, but it turned out harsher than expected. This caused the woman to turn, a mixture of surprise and mild panic taking over her features for a split second, before settling into a controlled expression of confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“Disappointment, rejection. That’s what yellow carnations mean.” Peter smirked, leaning forward as if confiding. “But don’t tell anyone, I don’t think many people buy flowers to express disdain anymore.”

She laughed and took another step away, her hand now on the door handle. The sound of her laugh warmed Peter’s chest, and for a second he forgot he was suspecting her of… of what exactly? Of acting shady in a flower shop?

Come on Peter, get a grip, you’re just sleep deprived from the night patrols. He thought to himself.

“Let’s not give them any ideas.” And with another ring of the bell, she was gone.

Peter stood there for a few moments, taking one last look at the yellow carnations before closing the shop for the day.

It was around 1 am when Peter woke up in a cold sweat. Another nightmare. He got up to get some water. He tried to remember what the dream had been about. It was about work. Conventional work. Flower shop. But also, Spider-man? Carnations. Yellow carnations. The woman looking at the yellow carnations. What was she wearing? Wide-brimmed hat. Red wide-brimmed hat. Like that night about a year ago at the docks. Red wide-brimmed hat amongst diamond smugglers…

Peter’s hand let go of the glass of water he was holding as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place in his brain.

By the time the glass shattered on the floor, he already had half his suit on and was headed towards the window.

It wasn’t often that criminals walked in through the door of the local superhero’s side job, Peter thought to himself. He hoped he wasn’t too late as he dropped down to the ground a few buildings away. Approaching by foot, he didn’t see anyone inside, nor anywhere around him.

In the shop, everything seemed to be in order. He approached the carnations. He thought about the new provider who had brought them. Mrs Hernandez had said they had shown a lot of interest in getting the flowers in the shop as soon as possible. This was nothing new, one would think, in the flower industry. But even Mrs Hernandez, with 50 years in the business, thought their approach was odd. “Muy raros, Peter. But the claveles are beautiful, ¿no?” she’d said.

He was lost in thought when he heard a voice behind him.

“Well well well. If it isn’t our friendly neighbourhood killjoy.”

Peter turned to see the now familiar red hat. The rest of the outfit was now black though, including a black cloth covering her mouth and nose.

“Who would have known the one and only Spider-man had a side gig as a florist.” She gave the keys on the door a jingle. She chuckled as she circled the room to leave Peter between her and the door. A bold move, Peter thought. She really wanted those flowers. Why not just buy them during the day?

“I don’t work here. I just… I keep spare keys for the forgetful neighbours.” Even his tone was unconvinced.

“Yeah, sure. And you just happen to be inspecting the one flower I’m here for because your sixth sense told you to.” She rolled her eyes.

“Maybe…? Who even are you?”

“You can call me Scarlet. Logistics agent. Pleasure to meet you, Spidey.” She held out her hand but he didn’t take it.

“Black market contrabandist, you mean.”

“Depends who’s setting the terms for black and white. I only want to help people have a good time.”

“Right. Well. You seem nice enough, Scarlet, but I’m finding it hard to trust you and I think I’m going to take these flowers to the police and let them work out what could have you so interested in them.”

“I really don’t think you want to do that.”

“And why is that?”

She looked at him intently for a few seconds before responding, she seemed to be weighing her options.

“Listen. I don’t deal drugs, or arms, or blood diamonds, or anything that might hurt people. I just like bringing people pleasure in ways that may be… unconventional… but not harmful. I know we might not always deal on the same side of the law, but we don’t have to be enemies. I’ve been seeing you all over the news, and I know you hold your morals above the law. So if I told you these flowers could be a big problem if handled incorrectly, will you please let me go my own way so I can take them where they won’t be a problem?”

Peter didn’t answer, so Scarlet went on. “Or are we going to have to fight? You’re really too cute to fight.” She was bluffing. She had a fair amount of martial arts training, but she was certainly not skilled enough to take on Spider-man.

“Tell me more about them.” Peter said, and Scarlet wondered if he was just curious.

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“The police it is then.”

“Okay, okay. These are “carnations of life”, they look like common carnations but they hold some very… interesting properties. They grow only on a small island off the coast of Croatia and people all over the world pay exorbitant prices to enjoy the side effects of their pollen. The thing is, they must be transported at night, or else they wither immediately. But it is also during the night that the pollen works its magic. So what I’m going to do is put them in this container that I have in my bag, neither of us is going to breathe for about two minutes while I do it, and then I’ll disappear and we won’t meet again for a while, okay?” She was already opening the lid to the big glass jar and reaching for them.

But Peter moved to intercept, now standing in the narrow space between her and the flowers, almost touching them. “Wait a second. You said you didn’t deal drugs. This sounds a lot like drugs to me.”

“Be careful, Spidey! If you even brush them the pollen will go everywhere and we’ll be in big trouble.”

But Peter didn’t move, Scarlet sighed but didn’t take her eyes off the yellow blooms.

“These give you a temporary high of sorts but are not considered a drug because they are not addictive and they have no side effects past the initial reaction. Because there is a very small production of these flowers worldwide, the people who do know about them are very secretive. I doubt even the NYPD has ever heard of them.”

“Why should I trust anything of what you’re saying?”

“Oh, you shouldn’t… But wouldn’t it be fun if you did?” Peter could see the smirk in her eyes, as she leaned forward to whisper in his ear: “Oh I do wish we could try this pollen together, but I’m afraid the money I’m getting from this transaction is worth way more than a night of fun with Spider-man…”

The words and sensual tone sent a wave of arousal through Peter’s veins, and his eyes went blurry for an instant. Just enough for Scarlet to reach behind him and grab the flowers. They were already in the glass jar when Peter’s tingle kicked in and reflexively swatted the jar out of Scarlet’s hands. He saw everything in slow motion: Scarlet’s panicked eyes, the jar hitting the floor and cracking into four pieces, the carnations flying off into five different directions, the pollen turning glittery with the sudden movement and spreading all around them…

Scarlet knew better, and Peter should have as well, but the sight of the sudden million sparkling specks of dust flying around them made them both gasp in awe. Neither of them had ever seen something so beautiful, so mesmerising. And that one gasp was enough.

“Fuck.” That was all Scarlet managed to say before she felt the rush through her veins.

Peter was already stumbling backwards, gasping further for air as he felt his lungs heat up like embers. He pulled his mask off, asphyxiated. He saw Scarlet taking off her hat, mask and coat, seemingly feeling ablaze as well.

“What’s… what’s going to happen to us…?” Peter managed between heavy breaths.

Scarlet managed to lift one eyebrow and attempted to smirk, but it turned into a pained grimace.

It took about three minutes for the pain to pass. Both of them panted heavily, catching their breaths. But Scarlet got moving quickly, drawing the blinds on the big window shop, making sure they were completely shielded from the outside. She locked the door with Peter’s key, which was still in the lock. Then, she picked up the shards of glass from the floor and put them in the bin behind the counter. With some brown paper, she expertly wrapped the flowers so they were sealed off as well as she could.

Peter felt so rattled he could do nothing but stare, confused. “Was that it?”

Scarlet looked up: “No. I’m just making sure we don’t get hurt, or arrested, or in further trouble really. It’ll kick in any minute now.”

Peter could barely process her words. He could just look at her red-tinted lips moving, the way her hair was all out of place, some locks falling on her face. Her hands moving swiftly, red nails softly scratching the counter’s surface as she put away everything that was in her way. Dazed, he looked down in horror to realise he wasn’t just aroused, he was completely hard under his suit, which was oppressing him in a way he’d never experienced before.

“Oh.” The pollen clearly had an effect on his reflexes as well because it took him a good minute to process what was going on. By then, Scarlet was in front of him, reaching for his neck and pulling him down into a deep kiss.

What had been confusion and delayed reactions instantly snapped into a desperate need to have her there and then.

Peter quickly undid his suit and peeled it off, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

Scarlet did the same with her clothes, now standing in front of Peter in a lacey red underwear set. She couldn’t help but stare at his toned figure, and Peter’s breath hitched at her beautiful form.

“This is very wrong.” He said, his hands already running up and down her sides, his dick pressing against her hip as he pulled her in close. “Is there another way of stopping it?” His words were coming out on autopilot, some better part of him subconsciously trying to do what was right. But his body was betraying him with every passing second, and his brain felt foggy with an overarching desire that engulfed every thought he had and tinted it deep red with passion. And he could not stop it even if he was really trying to. At least he was pretty sure he was trying.

Scarlet, on the other hand, was surprised, to say the least. This was her first time exposed to love carnations, but from what she’d heard, and from her own impulses at that very moment, it was basically impossible to question your actions under its effect. The superhero’s morals really were strong as steel.

“Not that I know of.” She managed, between gasps as he sucked and bit and kissed a trail down from her chin to her collarbone. Her hands were firmly anchored to his hair in a desperate attempt to keep the balance her legs were refusing to offer.

“And you’re okay with this?” He pulled away briefly to seek assurance in her eyes as much as her words.

“Yes, please, Peter, I need this.”

Peter stilled, confused as to how she knew his real name. Panic caused a new burn of adrenaline through his veins. His face must have shown it clearly, because Scarlet lifted an eyebrow, a cocky grin across her face, and simply said: “You had a very cute nametag on this morning”.

Some kind of relative relief allowed Peter to relax slightly. “Attentive to detail. Check.” He pointed out.

“It’s part of the job, what can I say.” She shrugged and tossed her hair back dramatically.

“Yeah? Well, part of my job is helping people in need. So let’s get to it.”

And with that, his arms circled her waist and he lifted her up. With her legs wrapped around his torso, and her hips grinding against his hardness, Peter’s vision blurred for a few seconds, consumed by desire now that he had the green light he needed to enjoy this.

Coming to his senses, as much as he was able to under the influence of that damn flower, he unclipped Scarlet’s bra with one hand, while the other tentatively kneaded her ass.

The moan she stifled against his neck spurred him on. He moved towards the back corner of the shop. Hidden under an intricate display of dried flowers, was a sofa. Once a luscious shade of green velvet, it was now faded and worn out, but it would have to do. With one arm, Peter pushed away the dried flowers, leaving behind a trail of petals and leaves which gave the sofa a new colourful covering.

He gently put Scarlet down on it, then quickly removed his boxers. Scarlet’s mouth opened slightly at the sight of Peter’s dick. But he didn’t notice because he was already pushing aside her panties, and diving his tongue into her wet core. After a few circles around her clit, Scarlet was a moaning mess, sprawled on the flower-covered sofa, one hand on the armrest and one intertwined in Peter’s hair. She didn’t even notice the roughness of the dried leaves still covering the sofa, lightly scratching her skin, or the colourful petals finding their way into the locks of her hair.

Peter’s index finger gently teased her entrance while his tongue continued to work at his clit.

“Peter, please…”

“Please what, pretty girl?”

“Please don’t stop.”

And he didn’t. His finger went into her smoothly, her arousal providing enough lubricant for Peter’s middle finger to follow shortly after.

Peter’s mouth suddenly covered her whole clit and sucked, tongue still teasing her. At the same time, his fingers curled, hitting her G-spot just at the right time to send her spiralling.

Whether it was Peter’s skill or the pollen’s effects, or both, the orgasm that hit her was nothing like she’d ever experienced before. Peter’s hand carried her through it all, until she was panting and pulling at his hair. He kissed her gently, his breath heavy.

“Tired already, Spidey?”

“No, just extremely turned on right now. So if you don’t mind…?” He held his dick in his hand, his tip stroking her sensitive clit.

“I do not.” She smirked through her hazed expression. He entered her with one smooth slow stroke, stretching her and filling her up deliciously. She moaned at the feeling.

“You make such lovely sounds for me.” He started with slow strokes, letting her adjust to his size and slowly prepping her up for her second orgasm. When she started lifting her hips to meet his thrusts, he caught the hint and started picking up the pace. Her hands travelled up and down his chest, up to stroke his hair, and down his arms, tense from hovering above her on the sofa. His grunts were getting louder by the minute, and she could feel him getting close.

But he had other ideas in mind, so he picked her up swiftly and bent her over the armrest, her hands clutching at the old velvet while her legs opened for him. He pushed a hand between her hips and the sofa, his fingers expertly applying the right amount of pressure to her throbbing clit. He entered her once more, the new angle letting him hit her sweet spot every stroke without fail.

She gasped as she felt the wave of pleasure about to hit her.

“That’s it, come for me, sweet thing. You’re doing so good for me.” The praise was enough to send her over the edge, and her muscles spasmed around his dick. A few more strokes and he was pulling out, his cum spurting onto her back.

He pinned his hands at either side of her on the sofa, panting into her ear. They stayed there for a few minutes, catching their breath.

“Don’t move, I’ll be right back.” he whispered softly, before kissing the back of her neck.

About a minute later, she felt him gently wipe her back with soft tissue.

“Thank you.” She said quietly.

“Is that it, then?” Although he tried hard to hide it, Peter sounded almost disappointed.

She turned around, plopping down on the sofa and making herself comfortable.

“From what I hear, it comes and goes in waves. The effects can last anywhere between 2 and 6 hours.”

His face remained serious, but Scarlet thought she saw a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Better rest up before it hits again then.” He said, lying down beside her, his arm lifted up above his head tentatively. She raised her head and he put down his arm for her to rest on. He stroked her hair softly, admiring the contrast of the dried flowers against her now messy hair.

He smiled to himself. This was all so wrong, but it felt so good.

Scarlet didn’t know how long she’d slept for. But it was still dark outside and Peter was not cuddling her anymore. She felt odd. When she moved, she worked out why. She was soaking wet between her legs. She blinked a few times, trying to come to terms with her sudden arousal. She looked up to see Peter leaning against the counter. He must have not noticed her sit up, because he didn’t react. When her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw why. He was slowly stroking his dick in his hand, eyes closed and head thrown back.

She slowly approached him. He was so entranced he only opened his eyes when she was standing in front of him and whispered: “Do you need some help with that?”

She dropped to her knees in front of him, replacing his hand with hers. He said nothing, just looked at her with pure adoration and nodded.

“Fuck.” Was all he could muster when she teased his tip with her tongue, her right hand moving up and down his length.

Slowly, she took him in his mouth, her hands moving to hold his thighs for balance and leverage. She started bobbing her head, hesitantly at first, but with more confidence when Peter started moaning and gripping hard at the counter’s edge. She couldn’t quite get his whole length in her mouth, though she tried to, so she focused on using her tongue to find his sensitive spots instead. It must have worked, because shortly after, Peter roughly grabbed her hair and pulled her away. “Careful, sweet thing, or you’re going to end up with a salty tongue…”

“But what if I want to?” She pouted at him playfully.

He gulped, clearly having to restrain himself from shoving his dick back in her mouth. His hand pulled her hair back a bit more so her neck was exposed to him. “Maybe another time. But I’m stretching this out as much as possible.”

He tugged at her hair so she stood up. He picked her up and sat her on the counter. One stroke of his fingers over her entrance revealed her wetness to him. So this time, he didn’t even wait for confirmation. He went in immediately and his fast, shallow strokes caught her breath. She held on to the nape of his neck, panting heavily straight into his ear.

“Peter, you feel so good. Don’t stop. Yeah, right there. Shit.”

Sucking him off must have turned her on more than she realised, because before she knew it she was biting into his shoulder to stifle her moans, and her body went limp against his firm chest while he fucked her through her orgasm.

He slowed down, pumping long and deep into her while she caught her breath.

“Can you do that thing again?” she whispered, hazily, avoiding eye contact.

“Do what again?” he was clearly distracted, his eyes focused on the point where their bodies met, soft wet noises mixed with their heavy breaths.

“Bend me over and fuck me from behind?” this brought back his attention, finally noticing the embarrassment on her face. This was the first time she’d looked insecure. He thought about teasing her, but being honest to himself, it turned him on even more (if that was even possible) and he loved that she was making suggestions.

“With pleasure, sweet thing.”

Scarlet was once again impressed by Peter’s ability to move her around effortlessly and with extreme care. She realised, if he wanted to, he could really hurt her. An odd warm feeling rose from her stomach up to her chest. She tried to shut it off, but she knew exactly what it was. How rare was it to find a guy who wouldn’t go straight for his own pleasure, even despite a feeble attempt at foreplay? Maybe losing tonight’s deal was not so bad… Maybe a night with Spiderman really was worth it...

The thought vaporised into thin air when Peter entered her, hitting that critical spot again. Her recent orgasm had everything feeling extra sensitive, so it almost felt like she was thrown straight into the rollercoaster of pleasure again. She moaned louder than she intended to, her nails digging into the edge of the counter, her toes barely touching the floor. Peter’s hands had been traveling up and down her back, stroking the sensitive skin on her sides: from the side of her breasts down to her waist and her hips. But now, he was holding her ass cheeks apart, and from the low moan that escaped his lips, Scarlet could just assume he was enjoying the view. His thrusts were getting sloppy, so she gently squeezed her walls around him. He huffed loudly, his hands landing roughly at either side of her on the counter.

“You certainly know what you’re doing.” He breathed into her ear.

“Whatever could you mean by that?” She tried batting her eyelashes, but all she managed was a hint of an innocent smile. At the same time, she squeezed again, and pushed her ass back into him, catching him off-guard.

“You fucking tease.” He tried to laugh but it came out as a breathy moan instead. A few more thrusts and he was collapsing on her again.

Scarlet woke up suddenly, gasping for air. She felt disoriented, but faint sunrise light came through the shut blinds which helped her get her bearings quickly. Peter was behind the counter, holding a mug. The smell of fresh coffee, mixed with the scent of the flowers that surrounded her both on the sofa and all over the floor, was positively intoxicating… Albeit in a more subtle way than the yellow carnations still sitting on top of the register, neatly packed away.

“Hey, you okay?” He was walking towards her, looking concerned. His Spiderman suit was on up to his waist, the top half hanging loosely over his hips.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Scarlet rubbed her eyes and yawned. When he sat next to her, he offered her her clothes, which he must have picked up from around the shop.

“Are you feeling better?” There was something in his eyes as he said so that she could not decipher.

“Better… I think so, yes.” Her tone was unconvinced, but she didn’t know why. She did feel better. Although the sight of Peter’s bare chest was still sending a tingling to her core, and looking into his chocolate-brown eyes felt like shaking a jar of butterflies in her stomach. Although, for the latter, she doubted it even had anything to do with the carnations.

“I’m just… very tired.” She stifled another yawn, trying to think of a good excuse to call in sick to work.

She started putting on her underwear. She giggled softly when she noticed Peter was entranced looking at her, now clad in red lace. Peter’s eyes widened and then looked away when he realised what he was doing. He cleared his throat awkwardly while making his way to the counter quickly. Scarlet caught a glimpse of what must have been quite an uncomfortable erection, but Peter said nothing.

“Coffee?” he asked casually, but he was still not looking in her general direction.

“No, thank you, I think I’ll go straight to bed.”

“That sounds very sensible. I’m jealous, Mrs Hernandez expects the shop open at 9 am sharp and the only good enough excuse for her is death.”

Scarlet was honestly surprised. She really thought Peter would try again, to get it out of his system. He was obviously still under the influence of the carnations. Even if it hadn’t been visually evident, she could feel it still running through her own veins. And she’d given him the green light last night already. However, ever the perfect gentleman, he was doing his best to act normal.

“I need to go home, have a shower, get some clothes appropriate for shop keeping, you know… Do you want me to drop you off somewhere?”

“Drop me off…?”

“I can swing you home if you want.”

“Wow, Spidey… Are you trying to find out my address?” she smiled teasingly, adjusting her hat in place.

“What? No, no. Not at all. I could call you a cab?” He was fiddling with his mug anxiously. Against her will, she thought it was terribly endearing.

“I can make my way home. Thank you anyway. You can ask for my number though, if you want to.” She batted her eyelashes playfully.

Peter still hesitated.

“It feels wrong, what with you being a criminal and all.”

“Depends what your definition of “criminal” is, Mr Vigilante.”

“Please tell me you don’t read that Daily Bugle crap. It’s all lies, you know?”

Scarlet laughed at Peter’s disgusted face. The sound filled the flower shop, sweetening the already scent-charged room. Peter couldn’t help but smile, and the sight warmed Scarlet’s chest. She slipped a card from her pocket and placed it on the counter.

“I can give you intel that will help you take down real criminals if you give me leeway to continue my harmless operations.” She leaned over the counter to kiss his cheek, and before Peter could react, she was already by the door, carnations under her arm, smiling back at him. “And you can also take me out to dinner.”

Peter’s hand lightly touched his cheek, where her lips had been, lost in thought for a few moments. He was brought back to the present by his phone alarm, reminding him he had to get home quickly if he didn’t want to face his boss’ wrath.

He was swinging just a few streets away when he saw her, walking with purpose towards a subway station. He swung low, taking advantage of the still fairly empty streets and passed mere centimetres away from her.

“You still have flowers in your hair!” He shouted, tossing a lock of her hair back. Her startled jump almost sent her into orbit, and Peter couldn’t help but laugh. What a shame he couldn’t hear her most-likely angry response. Here was to hoping she’d forgive him once she read his text:

7 pm Friday - Moondance Diner? Strictly (un)professional.

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