#tasm Spidey

[mypalbuck]

TWO GHOSTS — P. PARKER {4}

↳In which two people, trying to move on from the loss of their lovers, find themselves fated to one another.

pairing: tasm!Peter Parker x female!reader

warnings: NWH SPOILERS! angst, mentions of infidelity

a/n: hi my loves I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to update this fic. It’s a little rushed and I haven’t edited it but I wanted to get it out to you all for Christmas. There will be an epilogue after this. I hope you all love it. Happy holidays! 🩷

You felt a little bit of normalcy being back in your own world. It had been a year since the multiverse events. You resumed work straight away and threw yourself into it. That was the only way you could distract yourself from Pretty Brown Eyes Parker. Your dreams were constantly plagued with him, manifestations of what could have been. The life you two could have lived. So work you would if it meant it would keep the heartache at bay.

And it did work, for a little bit. It was only until you see the first fall of snow that you felt that sharp pang in your chest again. Yes you were safe and had decided to befriend your Peter and Harriet. You thought when Peter arrived at work it was to see Harriet now that she was off maternity leave but it was to see you. He wanted to make emends and invite you to baby May’s 1st birthday. To say you instantly fell in love with baby May was an understatement, strangely enough there wasn’t one part of you that was jealous or sad anymore. Your heart without you giving any permission belonged to someone else, someone worlds apart.

Every time you saw a flash of orange your heart leapt in the hopes that Pete came back for you, that somehow he begged Doctor Strange to open a portal back to you. But alas it was always a traffic light or shop sign.

“Thank you for being here Y/N, it means a lot to Harriet.” Peter of your universe pat you on the shoulder in a nostalgic way, you smiled and nodded your head and handed him baby May’s birthday present. “Actually, I go by MJ now.” You smiled at Peter in a friendly manner. There was no love between the two of you anymore, but you remained civil. Besides, you only had eyes for one Peter now and it sure as heck wasn’t this universe’s one.

The party went along in a blur and you found yourself fiddling your keys, the familiar Empire State keyring missing that you gave to Pete made your keys feel light and mundane now. You chuckled and pushed yourself off the wall you were leaning on, making your way to Peter and Harriet you bid them farewell and made your way out onto the snowy street.

You cursed under your breath for not bringing a warmer jacket for you walk home. You had rushed straight from work to the birthday. Pulling your lab coat closer to your chest you shoved your freezing hands into your pockets, you furrowed your brows when your fingers brushed against cool metal. You pulled the object out of your pocket and realised it was Doctor Strange’s ring.

You had forgotten that you had kept it. Looking down at the ring you clutched it tight in your fist before running home.

You were going to do it.

You were going to make your way back to him. You didn’t care how, you two belonged together there was no doubt about it.

When you got home you quickly packed a backpack with all your special items and things you needed. Clothes and other things were replaceable, a love like that wasn’t.

Grabbing some paper and envelopes you wrote a resignation letter to your work, a letter to Peter and Harriet and one to Gwen’s family. They would think that you moved countries for a work opportunity. But unbeknownst to them you’d be in a whole different universe.

There was nothing keeping you here anymore. Running downstairs to the postbox you quickly sent the letters off before preparing yourself for this new journey.

Slipping the ring onto your fingers you took a deep breath and tried to recall how Strange moved his hands to open the portal. Closing your eyes and thinking only of Peter you moved your hand in a circular motion until you felt heat and saw a bright light through your eyelids.

You gasped, it had worked.

Stepping through the portal you made your way into an unfamiliar apartment building. Walking around you observed all the photos on the wall, and there his smiling face was. You were in the right place.

Taking off your backpack you placed it by a gorgeous Christmas tree. You smiled at all the spiderman decorations on the tree before your hand stopped at a familiar keyring. Peter had placed the Empire State keyring you gave him in the centre of the tree. You let out a sob, this confirmed that you weren’t insane for traveling across universes for this man.

You were brought out of your thoughts when you heard the door open. Before you could move, a dog ran into the room and licked you. It was a brown Labrador. You leaned down to pat the pup and noticed its name was Mocha. Your favourite coffee.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach and your chest warmed. You were seconds away from seeing the light of your life. The man who gave you hope and made you feel loved within minutes of you meeting him.

Hearing footsteps coming closer you looked up to find Peter walking towards the kitchen across from where you were standing. When he called out to Mocha and she didn’t respond Peter turned around to face you. Eyes wide, jaw slacked he dropped all the groceries that were in his hands. He blinked and rubbed his eyes as if he were dreaming. He looked as beautiful as the day you lost him. Fluffy brown hair tucked under a beanie, plaid jacket and scarf hanging off his lean frame.

“Y/N, a-are you really here?”

All you did was nod your head, afraid your voice would betray you. That was all it took for Peter to rush over to you and embrace you tightly. Together the two of you wept in eachother arms.

Peter brought his hands to your face and cupped your cheeks. “So I’m not dreaming?” You laughed and pulled the familiar handkerchief he had given you, bringing it to his face to wipe his tears. “No you’re not Tiger, I’m real. I traveled across universes for you.”

Peter let out a laugh of joy before pulling his lips to yours in a kiss that one would describe as something from a romance novel or movie. You always dreamt that your first kiss with Peter would be sweet and gentle but how wrong were you. This kiss was passionate and full of need. All the pent up emotions, the grief, the longing was packed into one kiss. After a while you broke apart breathless. Peter’s face streamed with tears again as he kissed your forehead.

“Are you here for good?” He whispered, waiting for the pin to drop and for the two of you to be separated again. You smiled affectionately at him and stroked his cheek, he looked at you like a lost puppy. “You and me forever Pete, that is if you want me?”

His eyes widened “Are you kidding me! I literally wished for you under my Christmas tree this year and here you are.” He lifted your feet off the floor and carried you to the hallway. Sheepishly he pointed above to the roof where a piece of mistletoe hung.

“I mean… rules are rules.” Peter blushed, waiting cheekily for a kiss. How could you say no to him ever again. Grabbing his cheeks in your hands you kissed every inch of his face.

“Merry Christmas, Peter my love.”

“Merry Christmas, my MJ.”

to be continued in the epilogue….

Masterlist

Taglist: @tsukishimawhore @apoloslut @l4mentis1 @stormbeyondthewall @im-nada @eg-dr3amer3 @pretty-pillow-princess @imsuperbored @m-ar-ia-m @tuxic @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @saltedcoffeescotch @xoxoloverb @lizzieann143 @shoxji @aubreylovesthegames @ay0nha @having-fun-is-what-i-do @buckys-vibranium-arm @cyanide-mustard @notalxx @haroldpotterson @ghostspf @spencybear @idli-dosa @kyushii @silverwindptv @kneelforloki @nervouslaught3r @plutoneu @officiallyunofficialperson @thewinterrbucky @stumbleonmywords @eaudenana @no-mercy-bby @book-fic-reader @lendeluxe

[rainydayathogwarts]

No boundaries - Peter Parker

summary: peter parker and reader are best friends but have zero senses of boundaries/personal space. cuddling and they fall asleep, but reader wakes up to Peter having a dirty dream and thrusting into her. She wakes him up so he can finish what he started. Wrote this with tasm!peter in mind but can be any! warnings: lowkey loser!peter, SMUT, oral (f!receiving), dry-humping, pull-out method. 1.7k+ wc

When Peter had snuck into your bedroom through your window, you'd been waiting for him worriedly. He didn't crash in your room this late often, so you knew something must have happened. You had a pair of sweatpants and a sweater folded neatly at the edge of your bed just in case you'd be asleep when he finally came in, but it seemed that no matter how hard you tried, you were so anxious for your best friend that you just couldn't fall asleep. When your window finally rattled, signalling Peter's arrival, you jumped up to welcome him, stretching your bare legs, clad only in your small, loose sleep shorts. "You scared me Pete! I thought something happened to you, are you okay?"

The boy ripped his mask off, shutting the window close behind him and immediately beginning to strip, groaning in pain as he moved his muscles. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Just-ugh long night with thieves and gangsters or whatever." he scoffed. The second Peter threw his suit on the back of your chair, tugging the sweatpants over his hips, his hands reached for your waist, closing the distance between you and digging his head in the crook of your neck. You rubbed a hand up and down his bare back, sweater lying on your bed, completely ignored. "Oh I'm sorry you had a rough night Pete." You muttered, pressing a kiss on his shoulder. "Can we-can we just cuddle please?" Your best friend shyly asked, his words muffled against your skin.

Taking his hand in yours, you led Peter into your bed, settling in against the pillows with your legs spread wide enough for Peter to fit between them, just how you both liked it. Peter followed you, wrapping his muscular arms around your waist and laying his head against your chest, letting you play with his hair once you'd pulled the covers over your tangled bodies and turned off the lights. It didn't take long for either of you to doze off, the darkness of the early a.m's serenading you into a deep sleep.

You only began stirring a couple of hours later. You couldn't help it. You moaned, a mix of sleepiness and pleasure, squeezing your legs for friction when your pussy throbbed, but something was in the way, blocking your legs from each other. Instead, your hips lifted up, where they were able to grind against something, creating more friction against your warm core. It was only when you realised that whatever you were able to get stimulation from was still grinding against you that your eyes snapped open. Groggily, you took in your surroundings, suppressing a whine. Peter still laying between your legs, head resting against your chest, where your tank top was beginning to slip down, the strap having fallen off your shoulder long ago.

Although Peter's head was still, the rest of his body wasn't; his hands gripped at the sheets and he was rubbing himself right where you needed him the most. He must have been having a dream. You blinked a couple of times, waking yourself up. This is so wrong, you thought. You had to wake him up. Your hand came up to his shoulder, and just as you grasped it, about to shake him awake, a loud whine interrupted you. Frozen in shock, you reconsidered your decision, before snapping out of it and shaking Peter's shoulder roughly. The boy's movements stalled momentarily, and his head lifted up from your chest to see where he was. In the silence, you heard yourself panting, and had to stop yourself from bucking your hips up to meet Peter's.

"Peter?" At the sound of your voice, Peter's head snapped up, and his eyes met yours in an awkward gaze. Slowly, his mouth dropped open and he scrambled up on the bed, away from you. "Y/n, I am so, so, sorry." He whispered, but his eyes trailed down to where your legs instantly closed, squeezing against each other. When they fell back open, he spotted a dark, wet spot in the middle of your grey shorts. "Pete?" He heard your voice at the same time the smell of your arousal hit him, and his eyes almost rolled into the back of his skull. He was suddenly grateful of his spider-senses, his eyes trailing back to where you were staring at him, biting your bottom lip nervously.

You sat up shyly, leaning forward to grab Peter's wrist, and suddenly, the boy was pouncing on you, pressing his lips against yours in a desperate kiss. Peter's forehead knocked against yours a couple of times in his hurry, but you didn't mind it. In fact, you're tilting your head to the side and separating your lips so he can deepen the kiss as much as possible, without a care of how sloppy Peter's inexperience made him kiss you. Peter pulled away from you suddenly, panting heavily. "I'm sorry, are you-" "Pete please, please fuck me." You whined, hooking your fingers in the waistband of the sweatpants he wore to pull him closer to you.

Though Peter was already clumsily tugging his sweatpants down his legs and freeing himself from his boxers, he still had the decency of asking "Are you sure?" While pressing kisses all over your neck. Instead of answering, you pushed him away enough to make space for you to pull your shorts off, tossing them somewhere in the room. "Fuck, fuck" Peter cursed, rushing to pull his sweatpants all the way down, but he was already being pulled back to you, and a hand was wrapping around his hard cock. Peter moaned loudly, trying to hide the sound in the crook of your neck as you pumped his cock a couple of times in your hand. "Whenever you're ready sweetheart." You teased, spreading your legs even more.

Peter grabbed his cock, whimpering as he dragged it up your slit, collecting your juices before spreading them down his shaft with his hand. God, you smelled so delicious. He would have to get a taste of your cunt soon. Peter pushed into you slowly, breathing in shakily when he saw the way your back arched. He lowered himself closer to you, forearms on either side of your head as he began thrusting into you at a fast pace from the very beginning. You gasped loudly, hands immediately grabbing onto Peter's back and pulling his body closer to you. "Fuck!" You moaned, throwing your head back into the pillows.

You wrapped your legs around Peter's back, pushing him impossibly deeper into you and you gasped, eyes widening as the situation hit you. You were having sex with your best friend... and you were enjoying it. Peter steadily thrusted his hips into your sopping pussy, leaning his weight on one hand as the other one reached for the fallen strap of your tank top, pulling it even lower. You gasped as your tit became exposed and Peter grasped the hard nipple between his fingers before leaning down to put it in his mouth, suckling on the sensitive nub. You both cried out at the same time, the stimulation becoming too much as you became aware of how deliciously Peter's pelvis rubbed against your clit from how deeply he was thrusting into you, his balls hitting your ass with each thrust.

Out of nowhere, Peter let out a loud whine, his mouth separating from your nipple with a loud 'pop', his hips stuttering and he immediately pulled out of you, leaving you crying out in disappointment as he emptied his load onto your stomach. Your eyes widened in shock, jaw going slack as Peter caught his breath, before you saw his face turn a dark shade of pink, flush with humiliation. "I'm so-I'm so sorry. I-Shit y/n." And suddenly, Peter's arms were wrapping around your thighs and tugging you down the bed as he ducked his head down, licking a bold stripe up your slit. "Oh my god!" You moaned, both hands coming down to grip his brown hair, hips bucking up into his face. Peter's lips attached around your clit, sucking harshly, and as your eyes rolled to the back of your head you realised maybe Peter wasn't as unexperienced as you thought he was.

Squeezing your legs around his head, you moaned, feeling Peter's fingers probing at your entrance. Immediately, he pushed three of his fingers into you, lips still wrapped around you clit. A sob racked your chest forward, tears of pleasure filling your eyes as you arched your back into Peter's touch. Peter's free hand snaked under your tank top, finding your untouched breast to play around with, pinching at your nipple as his pace on your cunt quickened. Peter latched off your clit, mumbling against you "Come on baby." Just as his fingers grazed your g-spot, making you go numb in the brain, you tugged at his hair, pushing your hips up with a whine. Peter's tongue returned to your clit, helping to push you towards your orgasm.

With a loud string of moans, you came undone on Peter's fingers, head pushing back into the pillows before you were trying to pull Peter back up, tugging his hair until he obeyed. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down so you could kiss him again. Peter moaned when your lips met his, deepening the kiss by slipping his tongue into your mouth, finally taking his fingers out of your pulsating pussy so he could slither both hands under you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. "I swear to god, I never cum this early." He spoke when you pulled away, a worried look in his eyes. "Please, I'll prove it to you." He begged. "I think it's cute that I got you to cum so quick. Means you like me." You responded cockily, playing with the long hairs at the top of his forehead.

"I do! I do like you y/n! Can I please be your boyfriend? Please?" The way Peter's making doe eyes at you has you giggling giddily in his arms, humming slightly with a nod before you begin to doze back off to sleep.

"Wait y/n, I need to clean you up first!"

taglist: @an1tak

[uhhhj13iguess]

peter parker x reader: roommates to lovers headcanons

tom!peter parker and fem!reader living together post high school (i really only used fem language in the last hc, the rest can be read however!)

masterlist

you and peter moving into an apartment together during college at mit and becoming a thousand times closer than you were before, if that's even possible

your apartment would constantly be scattered with notes and textbooks from your late night study sessions, the air often filled with laughter at 3am when you're both nearly delusional from the lack of sleep

peter would be in and out at odd hours for his nightly patrols, and you always keep the window in the living room unlocked for him so he didn't wake you up pounding on the window to be let in at the ass crack of dawn (not that you found out from experience or anything...)

while he would try not to wake you, you'd grown to be a light sleeper, knowing most nights he would need help patching himself up. he would beg you to go back to bed, but you wouldn't have it, grabbing the sewing kit and helping him clean up

as shy as he is, I think we forget all too often how SASSY this man is, and he would get comfortable enough with you to snap back

"peter, holy shit you're bleeding!" "oh, is that what the red stuff is? really?"

peter isn't the cleanest roommate, but you never seem to mind picking up after him, knowing he's quite literally too focused on saving the lives of others. it also gave you an excuse to steal a sweatshirt now and then while picking up

speaking of, the first time peter came home from patrol and found you asleep on the couch in his sweatshirt, he nearly combusted

that night changed a lot of things in peter, seeing you in his clothes bringing his childhood crush on you out at an insane rate he just couldn't seem to bury anymore

peter can't cook to save his life, having had aunt may to take care of him up until moving in with you. you, on the other hand, loved to cook, especially for him. he would come home from class to find the apartment filled with the most heavenly scents, and all his stress would just disappear

the two of you would have routine movie nights, decking the living room out with a homemade fort and every single pillow/blanket you two owned. more often than not, you let peter pick what to watch, not able to resist the look of pure joy on his face as he queued up yet another star wars movie

these movie nights led to feelings beginning to fester in you as well, as halfway through, peter would be dead asleep and curled up into your side. sometimes he would fall asleep with his head in your lap as you played with his soft curls, and you couldn't imagine being anywhere else. you knew how hard he worked for everyone all the time, and being able to see his face in such a state of peace made your heart flutter (especially whenever he groaned at your touch in his sleep)

after about six months of living together, the vibes are genuinely unreadable. the lines between friends and more are wildly blurry, but neither of you would know how to say something, too happy in the bliss you were creating to mess it up by admitting your feelings (because what if they aren't reciprated? both dumbasses asked themselves while wrapped in each others arms on the couch)

tony, who comes to the apartment one day looking for peter, only to then see you walk into the room mid-conversation and establish the entire relationship for you

"oh, is this the girlfriend, kid?" "oh she's not, i mean we're not, i don't like, she's just my... roommate--" "I'm just your roommate?" "no! i mean, of course not, i just, we haven't, i mean i didn't-" "seems like this is a conversation i don't want to be here for. give me a ring after you're done with the misses, mkay?"

[httpscomorg]

No, You Don't

Day 3 of Kink-Tober - Bondage

Summary: You knew he was crazy for you, but not that crazy.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: (Lmk if I missed any) Stalking, implied murder, blood, revolution, pv (Not very long), intruder, drugging, language, cheating, and finally, bondage kink. (I absolutely hate this, but lmk how you guys feel).

Main tags: @cellyx33 @shybluebirdninja

Word Count: 3295 (Find my Kink-Tober list here)

P.S. If you would like to be added to the Kink-Tober tag list, just let me know.

He had everything figured out. It was the perfect plan to ask you to Prom. Everything was going to plan, at least on his side. He had already bought some flowers, and he made a poster all by himself (with a little help from Ned), so now all he needed to do was find you, ask you. Tell you his lines, the ones he rehearsed in front of the mirror about a thousand times. He knew exactly where you were right now. As soon as he turned the corner, he knew you would be standing at your locker. But he pauses. His eyes glued on you and…

Flash…?

What were you doing… his hands on your waist, and his lips connected to yours. Peters turns back around, using the wall as his shield.

He thinks about it. He wasn’t sure whether or not it was even true. It made no sense to him, he never expected you to kiss Flash of all people. But he knew he would have to do something about it. Something to ensure you were only his…

“Hey!” You hear his footsteps behind you before he stops in front of you, a huge smile on his face as his body keeps you from walking any further. “Hey, where are you going?”

“Home, Peter. I’ve had a long day.”

“Yea, I heard what happened, I’m sorry.” He steps aside, and starts walking next to you. He’s been rather clingy this week.

“It’s not that big of a deal, why are you apologising?”

“Well I know how bad you wanted to be in the play.”

“Not bad enough to care.”

“Then what’s bothering you?” You.

“I’m just tired, exams really snuck up on us this year.” You throw him a lame excuse, hoping he would just leave you be.

Obviously you didn’t hate him, but you weren’t exactly close to him either. You had no fucking idea who he was until he randomly decided to start popping up behind you in the halls, asking you random questions, or telling you random things about yourself, then the second Flash showed up, he shuts up, and leaves. It was weird, and you didn’t think much of it. You had even told Flash about it, which he wanted to kick Peter's ass, but you easily made him drop the situation, deciding it would be best to ignore it.

“Yea…” His voice goes quiet, and you know Flash is nearby.

“Hey baby…” Flash wraps his arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Hey loser.” He nods towards Peter, who offers him a half-witted smile and nod.

“Sup Flash.” He shuffles awkwardly on his feet. “I’ll uh… I’ll catch you later Y/N, nice seeing you.” Peter turns, walking in the opposite direction from the exit.

“He’s so weird.”

“Hey don’t mean!” You smack his arm jokingly, his arm moving to go around your shoulders and press another kiss to your head.

“What? I’m not wrong. You know he’s fucking weird. He follows you everywhere you go.”

“I know… I think he’s just lonely.” You shrug, walking out the door as he holds it open for you.

“I’m still taking you home right?”

“Yes Flashy.”

“And date night tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

Well shit… You groan, rolling onto your back, letting the outfit you had planned for tonight fall onto the ground for you to pick up later.

It didn’t bother you much that he cancelled the date the first time. Then there was a second time, then a third, and this was the fourth time. You were starting to get annoyed. It was a different excuse every time. There was first studying for an exam, he didn’t even show up to school the next day for the exam, then there was his dad in the hospital for breaking his arm, the next day you saw pictures on his facebook of him playing golf, last time is was his car broke down, and he didn’t want you driving because your car was in the shop, and now this.

Of course, you didn’t believe him. His mother always got back from work at 7PM, and the date was planned for 8. Also, you knew there was Saturday school today because your bestfriends little brother went there every Saturday. You are honestly debating just ending the relationship.

But he’s so sweet. You think to yourself, turning onto your side and hugging a pillow as you keep yourself from crying over some stupid boy. You’d been with him for three years now, and he wasn’t such a jerk in the beginning.

When you first started dating, he would show up randomly at your house while you were in your pyjamas and minion slippers eating pizza for breakfast, a beautiful set of flowers in his hands, a new one every week to replace the old ones. Now he doesn’t even buy you water. You knew something was up when he stopped throwing his arm over your shoulders in public. He’s only been doing it since Peter has been hanging around you.

Peter.

God he was annoying. Where did he even come from? You were just chilling in the halls looking through your locker like it was a fridge and some random snack would eventually appear, then he was there, with that stupid smile on his face that made him look like the most innocent puppy, the most adorable stupid smile, and all he said was ‘hi.’ before awkwardly walking away, you could swear he was sweating bullets.

You knew he liked you. He couldn’t possibly make it more obvious. With his daily goodmorning texts that you’ve only responded to about 3 times in the past two months, and nightly goodnight texts, and the three times a week good afternoon text when he wakes up late. You haven’t even put his name as a contact in your phone, you know that would only piss off Flash when he does his weekly “Do you have any boys in your contacts?” check every Monday.

Wow.

You lie there, staring at the wall.

How stupid were you? You were in one of the most toxic and un-trustworthy relationships possible and you’re only just now noticing it?

You put your all into Flash, making sure he was okay every second of the day, always the one planning days out. You were even expected to pay for the dinner tonight. Stupid considering he was the rich one in a big house.

You pick up your phone to check his location, he was home, and his little brother was at school. His parents were working.

You sigh. His little brother is at school. A bing comes from your phone, your friends name popping up as a notification: Hey, still going out with Flash tonight?

You toss your phone to the foot of the bed and sit up, not caring when it bounces off the mattress and falls to the floor and under the bed. That piece of shit. He was cheating on you. It was obvious, and you’ve deflected that thought a thousand times, you’ve never wanted to believe it, so hearing it was enough for the waterworks to break, thanking God you were home alone so you could cry as loud as you want, which you do.

Leaning back against your headboard, your hands move to your eyes as tears begin to fall down your cheeks, an occasional sob coming from your throat as you stand up. You were so fucking done. You take some jewellery from your desk, necklaces and bracelets he had bought you when you first started dating, and you throw it into a bag, then you storm over to your wardrobe and you find two hoodies that you had borrowed from you, tossing those next to the little plastic bag, your tears still falling from your eyes and clouding your vision as you curse profanities and complain about what’s happened. Then you freeze.

Your parents weren’t supposed to be home, but the sound of the floor creaking just outside of your room has your heart stopped. You were never a fan of being home alone, making every little sound scare the shit out of you.

But this wasn’t just a little sound. It was the creak of the floor, just a few inches from your door on the right most piece of wood that had made the sound, and that only happens when it’s been walked on. So yea, you were scared, and confused. Someone was outside your door.

“Layla?” You shout out, thinking maybe your sister got home from school early, but there’s no response. “Mom…?” Your voice begins shaking, and you reach back inside of your wardrobe, gripping the neck of a metal bat before approaching your door. “Is that you Hank?” You call another name, your dog's name, then your heart skips as you head quick heavy steps running down the hallway, and back down the stairs. “Alexa, lock the front door!” You shout, not sure why. You want them to leave, but you just lock the door and you dart down the stairs, following the sound of your dogs growling. You turn the corner and there Hank was, his hair standing on his back and his ears pinned to the back of his head. He was a big dog, a German Shepherd with a damned strong bite force. Something your moms ex found out the hard way. But Hank wouldn’t attack without a command, so he stood there, blocking the exit as he stared up and the man dressed in all black, a hoodie over his head. “Who are you?” You shout, gripping the bat harder as you prepare to help your dog fuck this dude up.

“I uh… I don’t want any trouble. I tried knocking but you didn’t answer, and the door was unlocked.” It was true, your mom never locked the door behind her when she left to work.

“So you think it’s okay to just walk in?” Your voice is stern, and you approach him, his eyes landing on your bat “Hank, go lie down, good boy.” You tell your dog, and he hides his teeth before leaving the door, giving the man a little side eye before walking away.

“I don’t want any trouble, I was just worried…” His voice cracks mid sentence, and you swear you recognised the voice. “P-Peter…?” He’s silent as he drops his hands and stares at you. He looks back at where your dog was standing before removing his hoodie. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?” You shout as he walks towards you.

“You weren’t answering me texts, and they weren’t going through. I was worried.”

“So you come into my home uninvited?” He doesn’t say anything again, and his eyes drift down to the metal bat in your hand, which you keep a nice grip on.

“I’m sorry…”

“Get out.” You tell him, pointing towards the door he came in through.

“I just wanted to talk.”

“Well I don’t, get out.”

“I have a gift for you.” Of course he did.

“Look, I get you’re trying to be friendly, but I have a boyfriend, Peter.”

“No, you don’t.” His voice lowers, almost sinisterly as he approaches you, a little too close for comfort as you take a single step back. “Can we go to your room? Your dog is…” He turns around, his eyes landing on the dog who’s cautiously watching him. “A little paranoid.”

You think about it for a moment before sighing. What harm could he possibly do? You wonder, then turn towards the stairs as you lead him up to your room, the rightmost piece of wood creaking under your weight, and he closes the door behind him for you.

“What’s in it?”

“It’s a surprise, but do you have a restroom I could use first?” He asks, and you look him up and down, not sure you trusted him enough to even use his restroom, and you notice his gloves.

“Yea, it's over there.” You nod your head towards a closed door in your room, and he goes into it quickly after he places the box with a little pink bow on your desk.

What could he have possibly gotten you? You trail your fingers over the little pink bow on the white box, and curiosity gets the best of you, your index finger and thumb pulling open the bow, and then you open the box. The item inside is covered by black feathers, so you push them aside, and the second your eyes catch what's in the box, you’re horrified. An immediate sick feeling bubbling up through your stomach as you cover your mouth and involuntarily gag. That was a fucking finger. You tell yourself, sickened, but it wasn’t the worst part. The promise ring on the finger was Flashes. It was a little cold band, adorned with a little pink heart, and cute diamonds curling around the band itself. You had the same one on your ring finger.

You had to get the fuck out of there. You tell yourself, but your hand pauses just before you touch the door handle, which was covered in some sort of white shit. Spider webs? You tilt your head in question. Your phone. Where was your phone? You quickly make your way to your bed, tossing the sheets around in search of your phone, then the bathroom door opens. Peter stepped out, his hoodie off in place of a grey shirt you’ve seen him wear often, but it never had the dark stains on the front that it did now, and his presence immediately makes you back away from your bed, and to the other side of the room to create distance.

“I said it was a surprise.” He sighs, tossing his hoodie to the floor before reaching up and removing his shirt, leaving his chest naked. He was fucking built.

“You need to leave, Peter.” Your voice shakes, but it’s confident.

“Come on now, he was cheating on you. He deserved it.” His voice lowers as he stalks towards you, only stopping when your back hits a wall. You hear your phone buzz, and behind him you see the screen light up with a text from under your bed. You had dropped it earlier.

“Peter-”

“Shh…” He shushes you, pushing his lower body against you, still dressed in your pyjamas. “You deserve so much better than him.”

“Peter, leave. Now.” You whisper, your intent was to shout, but you can’t seem to with his proximity. It made you nervous.

“I just wanna touch you…” He tells you, one of his hands reaching to gently touch your waist.

“This is your last warning.” He chuckles, he thinks you’re joking. Fine. You tell yourself. I warned you. Your knee comes up, striking him in his stomach and he groans and curls over in pain as you rush over to your bed, your fingers an inch away before some sort of white string, the same on the handle of your door, shoots out and grabs your phone, looking back, it was now in his hand, the little white web connected to it.

“I tried to do this the easy way.” He squeezes your phone, and it crushes in his hands. “But I’m done waiting.” He growls, moving back towards you as you try to crawl away, but he grabs your ankles and yanks you back before reaching down and pulling you up by your hair. “You don’t want to behave? Fine.” He tosses you onto the bed, moving you and manhandling you with his strength as he moves you to take off your shorts and top, leaving you in your red lace set. “See how pretty you are? Fuck.” He groans a little before bending down, leaning to lick a place between your thighs.

“Peter!” You shout, attempting to back away, but his grip moves to tighten on your waist.

“Just stay still…” His voice shakes with urgency, “I need to have you, I can’t wait any fucking longer…” He groans, pulling you close and forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist before pushing his lips to yours, your hands instinctively pushing him away, but his hand just moves up, wrapping around your throat to keep you close, and you continue batting at him, but he seems locked onto you. “Stop fucking fighting me…” His voice shakes more, he’s desperate, you realise as he starts to hump you, your centre still covered by your thin lace panties, you hated to admit it, but it was turning you on. “Take these off…” He demands, but begins to do it himself, leaning back to hook his fingers through the lace of your panties before tugging them down your thighs, your hands swatting at him the entire time. “That's enough…” He growls, lifting you by your thighs as he throws you further back onto the bed, then he grabs your wrists and pins them against the bed frame.

“Fuck- Peter-!” Suddenly, your mouth is covered by more of the webbing as it shoots from a device on his wrist, then your wrists are also covered by the thick webbing, making it impossible to move your arms at all.

“Just stay still… We both need this.” You groan, the sound stifled by the webbing on your face. “You’ll love me when you feel how much better I am than him…” He reaches down and undoes his jeans, the sound of his zipper seeming to cloud your head before he slides the jeans down with his boxers, his cock springing free from it’s confinement, and he gives it a few strokes before inching closer to you, the sound behind the webbing on your face becoming more desperate. “God girl, staying so still…” He presses a kiss to your head as he lines his cock up with your pussy, seemingly admiring it as he strokes his dick. “Such a pretty pussy…” He whispers against your ear, then he slowly begins to slide his cock inside of you, not wasting any time in pumping in and out of you as he fills you perfectly. “Feels so good…” He groans, but it turns into a moan as you feel him already leaking inside of you. That was fast. You look him in the eyes as he pulls out faster than he’d gotten inside of you, his eyes meeting yours. “Fuck I’m sorry… You just feel so fucking good…” He groans, leaning down to press kisses to your throat and down your collar bone, and you’re frozen in fear, and in second hand embarrassment.

He reaches up, and tears the string off of your mouth, a whine coming from your lips as it painfully pulls on your skin, and you part your lips, short breaths leaving your throat as you sit with him between your legs, not sure what to do.

“I’m sorry baby I-”

“Get the fuck off of me…”

“Don’t talk to me like that…” He warns, pulling his pants back up with his boxers before reaching into his back pocket.

“I said get the fuck off of me Peter-” Your voice catches in your breath as he holds two little capsules in his hands, tearing one of the plastic things open with his teeth before attaching the needle to the bottle in his other hand.

Oh shit, oh shit.

“Won’t be such a smart mouth after this, will you?” He takes the lid off the needle with his teeth, then sticks it into the side of your neck, making you yelp, and of everything that’s happened today, that had to be the worst part.

 You fucking hated needles.

[maybe-moonchild]

5/29/2014

WC: 5.3k

Strawberry vodka lemonade was your liquid courage. 

It was what drove you to excuse yourself from under Trent Warren's arm that was thrown over your shoulders. Your friends boo’d you from across the pong table, but you were already slipping away. 

Flash’s living room was stuffy, the entirety of Midtown High’s senior class packed inside, bodies spilling into the backyard. It had been your requirement that all seniors be invited to the party. No one left out, no hurt feelings, or unwelcome to the celebration. 

After all, you had all graduated today. 

Peter’s head was easy to spot as he pushed through the crowd and towards the back door. He’d always been tall and lanky but, sometime during high school, he’d filled out. It wasn’t weird that you’d noticed. Everyone had noticed. Come on… how could you not?

Your grip on your solo cup tightened as you maneuvered through party goers that were too drunk to notice where you were going. Maybe no one cared anymore. Now that everyone was graduating and moving on to what was hoped to be bigger and better. 

Who peaked in high school wouldn’t matter. Who dated who, slept behind their friends' ex was no longer important. Who punched who in the face over a rumor that someone started would be forgotten and replaced with newer and shinier memories.

You just knew that you would never be able to forget Peter Parker. 

Thinking was easier once you’d stepped outside. Without the overwhelming stimulation, your eyes and ears adjusted to the quiet and lack of flashing lights. You searched every face, standing on your toes and straining to catch him before he was gone for good. You managed to get a glimpse of the back of his head before he disappeared around the side of the house. 

You called out,  “Hey!”

Grass tickled the soles of your feet as you jogged to catch up. Your sandals had been forgotten somewhere in Flash’s room from when you’d helped set up his place to host the party. What was more important was that you managed to catch him. 

Peter was right at your fingertips. 

At the sound of your voice, Peter hesitated. Like he was debating whether he should stop and turn around or just keep going all the way home. But he stopped. 

It took him even longer to actually turn around. 

Neither of you said anything for a few long seconds. You were nervous- the most nervous you had felt in a long time now that you were standing closer to him than you had in longer than you could remember. More nervous than cheerleading tryouts freshman year when Nancy Lewis, the captain, had it out for you but you made the team anyway. More nervous than when you clicked submit on your NYU application 7 months ago. 

You gave him a timid smile, “Hey.” That one word dripped with everything and nothing all at the same time. Years of dependency and avoidance all rolled into one. 

His teeth chewed at the inside of his lip and he paused long enough to make your smile falter.

“Hi.”

It was awkward; the kind of quiet that no one is sure how to fill. Clearing your throat and squaring your shoulders, you relied on the strawberry vodka to carry you through.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight. I mean, I didn’t think you would.” you practically blurted the words out just so you wouldn’t lose your nerve. Shaking your head, you try to relax. “Not in a bad way. Just… you usually don’t, but I’m glad you did-”

“I didn’t plan on coming.

That time, your smile really faltered. His eyes were hard but the second he saw your expression, he felt guilty and quickly looked away. It was harder for you to recover this time. 

“I’m glad you did.” The strawberry vodka coated the words and stung your tongue. At least taking a sip of your drink gave you something to do as you thought. 

You took a breath and tried again. 

“We haven’t… Well, we haven’t really talked in a while. So… I was- well I was hoping to run into you again. Since we graduated and all,” you stumbled through. Even if you sounded awkward, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

You just wanted to try.

Peter didn’t know what to say to that. He was trying really hard to be nice but, god, it was harder than he’d thought it would be. It wasn’t like he was a mean person. It wasn’t even that he wanted to be mean to you but something about your unsure smile made him want to tear it down. 

He can’t exactly say, ‘I don’t want to look at you’ or ‘I was hoping to have evaded you entirely, gone off to school and tried to forget your existence that always seems to be pressing on the back of my skull even when you’re nowhere near’. 

So he settled for something neutral, a little vague.

“Yeah.” 

He swallowed, nodding slowly before tearing his eyes from the ground and finally meeting your gaze. A nervous tic took hold of his forehead and he rubbed it idly like he could somehow rub away the scowl threatening to slip through. He fought the urge to run by shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

“I didn’t know you wanted to run into me,” he muttered and you just shrugged lamely. If you talked right now, your voice might’ve cracked. Yet again, you focussed your tipsy brain on keeping the smile up. 

Peter couldn’t help it. He just couldn’t help but shove his hands into his front pockets and add, “Considering you didn’t want anything to do with me for the past four years.”

The smile fell off your face. It didn’t come back. 

His words did what he intended: hurt you. 

You pressed your lips together to keep down the scoff burning in your throat.

“That’s not true and you know it,” you argued.  “I never replaced you. I might have made other friends but that didn’t mean I just cut you out.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” he muttered, an edge creeping into his tone as he stared at you intensely. He wanted to see you hurt but the only reaction you gave was the twitch of a muscle in your neck.

Peter was pissed off.  He was pissed off that he wasn’t good enough. That you chose others over him. That he’d  never been enough. That maybe he never would be. 

Peter did a bad job at feigning indifference. The jerky movements and harshness of his voice gave away that he wasn’t all that detached like he was trying to seem. You could tell considering you still knew his mannerisms like you had four years ago. 

When you said nothing, he couldn’t help but keep going. Alcohol didn’t have the same effect on him ever since he got bit by that spider two years ago. Not like he’d been a big drinker before then anyway; Peter wasn’t exactly making it to the top of the guest lists. Booze metabolized too quickly in his system for it to do anything besides give him a brief buzz and a three minute hangover. 

But when Ned had begged and pleaded (like literally on his knees and gripping the bottom of Peter’s shirt because ‘it was the last high school party he could attend to try and woo Katie into elopement), Peter couldn't say no. So he really tried to keep as heavy a buzz going as humanly possible.

It worked. Maybe a bit too well. 

Which was why he was drunk and wouldn’t shut up.

“You always had plans with other people, always busy with cheerleading or making rounds to different tables at lunch after sitting with me for five minutes. I’d be lucky if I got to walk to a class with you.”

“That’s not how it went and you know it,” you countered with a step forward. 

“Just admit you traded up. That you got exactly what you wanted.”

You stopped short, the close proximity between you two feeling like two opposite ends of magnets.Your breathing was a little rapid, pink flushing your cheeks from the alcohol. Or it could just be the blood rushing to your face from anger because, yeah… you were mad. 

“And what would that be? What exactly was it that I wanted, Peter?”

It was the booze, that’s what you both told yourselves. That the bottle of rum you’d giggled into with Flash and Katie as people started arriving was finally hitting you full force. That the beers he’d choked down just so he had something to occupy his mouth with instead of talking during the party had him chatty now.

Alcohol seeped beneath the hard exterior of everything you’d been sitting on for the past four years as it all bubbled to the surface. 

“Really?” He leaned in closer, the citrusy vodka strong on his breath. Peter's eyes flickered around your face like he was looking for the truth. “Who was the one that always said it would be you and I against the world? How many nights did I crawl in your window when you were too scared to be home alone and your parents were at a conference?”

When you didn’t have the answer, Peter leaned a little closer.

“How many times did you show up late to the movies an hour late because practice ran long?  How many times did you invite a new friend along to our plans that only acknowledged my existence because you made them? How many times did I help you with your homework because you let some moron quarterback keep you up all night and you forgot?”

“Are you serious right now?” It was the most you’d raised your voice the entire conversation. 

“I’m just saying,” Peter shrugged. He raised his hands in surrender, nothing sincere about the action. 

“Just saying what? That I’m a whore?”

Peter's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. His scowl dropped to shock. “No!” That was certainly not what he was saying. Not ever!

“Well, that’s kinda what it’s sounding like,” you snapped. 

“Well, that's not what I- I’m not saying that. I’d never say that-” he cuts himself off with a huff. “I’m just saying that- I was there. For you. I was there for you.”

The hole he was digging himself in just kept getting bigger and bigger. If he was lucky, he could crawl inside and bury himself in it like a grave. Lay to rest all the thoughts of you that had been sitting in his head so long they’d practically atrophied into his brain tissue. 

The statement made you feel defensive, arms folding over your chest like you could protect yourself from his words. Scowling, your fingers flexed on the half filled solo cup, the plastic crinkling under your fingers. Even though it was late May

“What has that even got to do with anything,” you cried out in frustration. Even though it was just the two of you out in the open yard, it felt harder to breathe out there compared to the cramped party inside. 

You still didn’t get it. The realization was agonizing, that you just didn’t understand what that had to do with everything. 

He stopped thinking entirely. 

So without  thought, he stepped forward, cupping your face in his hands and towering over you. 

“Because I was jealous, you idiot.” 

There's a deafening quiet once those words are out into the world. He could never take them back. You could never truly pretend you’d never heard them.

His eyes bored into yours, big and brown as their intensity slipped to distress, his breath rushing over your mouth. You were so still that you weren’t sure your heart was beating. If you really thought about it, you would easily be able to put together why he would be jealous of some football player having your attention for a week or two before you got bored. 

If you actually thought it through, you would have to accept that he didn’t just feel resentment for you. 

Suddenly, the hum of anger that had been buzzing in your body is replaced by something else entirely. Something you cant quite place or name or- fuck, you dont even know if you want to know what it is.

Peter's whole body wanted to sag, to sink down into your touch and just give himself a moment to simply be. To just be with you without the entire weight of the world weighing down his shoulders, without having an explosion hanging between you two like a cloud. 

His heart was racing in his chest, thudding so hard it hurts as it slams against his ribs. Peter stared at you with disbelief, the booze having stunted his own thinking. 

You were so beautiful, so damn beautiful with your cheeks flushed pink and your parted lips. Your eyes wide and bright as they remain locked with his own because neither of you could seem to look at anything else. Maybe there was nothing else worth looking at. 

His thumb stroked your cheek, his voice faltering as he leaned closer, 

“This,” he says and pulls your face closer.

You went  rigid for barely a second when his lips pressed against yours. It wasn’t like it was the first time you’d ever kissed him either; in fact, it was the third time. 

You had just never thought you would do it again. It was why you didn’t think, you just moved. 

Kissing Peter was almost instinctive. 

Your eyes fell shut but it didn’t make you any less aware of every single detail about him. The solidness of his forearms that your fingers were curled around as you leaned into him. How 

Strawberry vodka and Peter Parker had to be the best thing you’d ever tasted. 

If you thought you were drunk before, you might as well have blacked out now. You were even drunker on the feel of his hands moving to tangle in your hair, the swipe of his tongue on your lips. When he deepened the kiss, it made you stumble back in the grass. He kept you upright, going until he had your back pressed against the siding Flash’s house. 

If you were able to think, you’d think this was stupid. 

Not thinking sounded a fuck lot better than acknowledging that. 

A sound of protest died in the back of your throat when he removed his hands before they’re back on you. They found their way under your thighs in an instant, hiking them around his waist like you weighed nothing. It surprised you enough that you gasped into his mouth. You looped your arms around his neck for both support- but also so your fingers can twist and tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. 

How long had Peter wanted this? 

When he was nine, he wanted to hold your hand, to sit pressed up against you when you watched cartoons or link arms as he pulled you around the street on his skateboard. After he kissed you the summer before sixth grade, he wanted to do it again. Nothing more than pressing his lips to yours and pulling away after a second. At fourteen, he still didn’t really get the whole kissing thing. 

Then he dated Gwen Stacy all of junior year and half of senior year. Gwen was amazing. She was kind and brilliant, her spot at the top of the class securing her spot in Oxford which meant she would be moving to another country at the start of fall. When he acceptance letter came, Gwen and Peter’s breakup was amicable and they’d spent the last few months easily falling into friendship. 

So maybe it was around then that he was able to put a name to what he thought about when you crossed his mind. Of kissing you with everything in him, burying his face into your neck, holding you the same way you held him when Ben died. 

You deepened the kiss when he groaned, fingers pressing harder into the flesh of your thighs and you nipped at his bottom lip in response. It was hard to focus once he’d moved his hands when they were touching anywhere they could. 

Cupping your face, gripping your waist, tangling in your hair, resting on your neck. You could barely keep up but he didn’t care when he finally got to feel you. 

It was a stupid night, a stupid moment, a stupid everything.  Neither of you cared.  

The two of you pulled each other close and closer, the heat of the moment drowning out the voices of reason in your head.  

It felt so right. Nothing but your lips on his in the night and the sound of the party a million miles away.

Over your high school career, you’d been on some dates, had some flings with different variances of the same kind of asshole. The ones you’d kiss, or more, were nothing like this. 

 Not even kissing Trent Warren felt like this- Fuck. 

Why did you have to think?

“Oh my god,” you breathed out once you managed to pull away. Your hands flew to cover your swollen lips, eyes wide and frantic. Peter let you pull away even if it hurt him. 

Confused, he gently set you on the ground once you unlocked your legs from around his middle. Your shaky hands shoved the hair out of your face, pressing a palm against your forehead in shock. 

It wasn’t like you were dating Trent. That was never going to happen, you were satisfied with the little fling the two of you were likely going to carry out for some of the summer before he left for college. 

You didn’t even freaking like him that much so it didn’t even have anything to do with the star of the soccer team at all. 

But this? It felt like you were taking advantage of Peter- not because of your mutual intoxication but because…

You weren’t sure, okay? All you knew was that there was a reason, so deep down into your brain, that you couldn’t grasp it. 

This was all wrong. You were both drunk. Tensions were high. Neither of you were thinking clearly. Both of you made mistakes that you will regret the moment your hangover hits in the morning. 

Just like that. His heart fell to his stomach as he watched you look around, searching for anyone that might’ve seen the two of you tangled together.  He didn’t know what to say, what to do. Everything was happening so fast.

Swallowing, he said your name so softly it was almost hidden by the loud shriek and splash in the pool around the side of the house. Neither you or Peter even flinched at the sound. When you didn’t speak, the backs of his fingers found your chin, gently lifting your eyes to his. 

“Leave him.”

“What?” You practically blurted the word out. If you didn’t think your eyes could get wider, you’d be wrong. Your hands fell to your sides to hang limply and useless and the abruptness almost made you reel back. It feels like he’s just said something absolutely preposterous, like he’s Spiderman or something. 

"Leave him," Peter repeats. Pleading, his eyes searching yours. “you’re too good for him. You always have been.”

It’s so stupid but Peter’s heart had always known. He had always wanted you. He has just never been dumb enough to do anything about.

Until now, he guessed.

You leaned away from his hand to make space as you slipped around him. His body turned with yours but you weren’t doing it to get away. You just couldn’t stand being stuck between him and the wall you’d just been pressed up against. You paced, shaky hands pressing against the heat on your face. 

“We’re drunk,” you tried to rationalize with a wave of your hands. “Neither of us knows what we’re doing… or saying.”

His heart sank even further with each word. 

Peter nodded curtly in agreement, “We are drunk.”

But deep down he knows better.

He wanted this. Always. 

He wanted you. Always. 

“But I still mean it.”

You halted to a stop so fast that you nearly tripped on your own feet. Peter knows he's pushing the line, doing something they can't come back from but he has to know. There was no sign that this was all a joke. 

“Peter,” your voice was thick with desperation. “You can’t mean it.”

“Yeah, I can.”

“No. You can’t.”

His eyes met yours, determination unwavering. He wanted you too much for his own sanity. “You can’t kiss me like that and say it doesn’t mean anything.” Because it did. It meant something to him.

The only reason you bit down on your lip was because he was right. You couldn’t say it didn’t mean anything. Not when you kissed him back the way you did. You twisted your shaky hands into the fabric of your dress like it would somehow give you some semblance of control over the way your head feels like it was going to explode. 

“Pete.” The nickname fell from your lips like it had millions of times. You don’t know what to tell him. You didn’t think there was anything you could say to fix things like you’d hoped to when you chased him down. Not when his expression was so desperate to hear what he wanted. 

“You were my best friend-” you started in the hopes of explaining but just shook his head and laughed. The sharp and bitter sound was enough for you to cut yourself off. 

“Right, right, of course.” He looked away, staring off into the dark yard. You looked as hopeless as you felt. 

"Can you just..." you stepped forward, barely moving closer but trying nonetheless. "I didn't... I wanted to fix things. I wanted to make things better."

The sound of your voice cracking at the end made his heart lurch. Peter actually managed to peeked up at you from the corner of his eyes because. Looking at you directly would burn like looking directly at the sun. The sound of your voice broke at the end, the crack making his heart lurch.

“Make what better? I thought you were perfect,” Peter snapped quietly. His head turned away from you again so he didn’t have to see the damage of his words. 

That hurt, cut through your chest and forced you to inhale sharply. It just made the lump in your throat so much worse. 

You focused on anything else as you blinked hard. Fresh cut grass, the sugary vodka still clouding your senses, and whatever floral Bath&BodyWorks perfume Katie had doused you both in earlier. All too overwhelming and not overwhelming enough. 

"You know it's never been like that." Squaring your shoulders, you triked again. "It's never... You know I never wanted you out of my life. That it was never about  picking you or them. I tried to do both. You're the one that pulled away."

Peter just scoffed again, shaking his head like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. Your mouth snapped shut in, trembling lips pressed tightly together. 

“Maybe I was sick of waiting for you to remember the loser across the street that used to be your friend.” 

Your jaw practically dropped at the implication that you would ever think that. Something about the way he said it made it feel like it had come from your own mouth. You clenched your hands into fists at your sides. 

“I never thought that,” you shot back, mouth still hung open in disbelief. “You were the one that pulled away when I had more than just you in my life.”

Peter scoffed but you keep going. 

“I invited you to games so that you would watch me cheer and you made it clear you would rather die than go. If I tried to stop by at your place after practice, you would tell May to pretend you weren’t home.”

Peter had never been all that great at sharing you. 

Before you moved in across the street, he’d started approaching that age where he realized that he didn’t have all that many friends. Aunt May was always hinting at him to invite kids in his grade over after school and Uncle Ben didn’t understand why Peter wouldn’t, at the very least, try a sport for a single week. 

Then you moved in across the street and he had a best friend that he could do everything with. Even when you played with other kids, you always came skipping back over to his house the second you got home. Sometimes you even dragged him along with you. 

When high school approached, he’d been more concerned with getting lost or failing his classes. 

You were more concerned with being singled out as a target or being lost on the outside. 

Everything was fine between you two until the second week of school. Wait, that wasn’t true. You hadn’t actually done anything wrong but when he walked into school that morning, expecting you to be waiting at his locker for his arrival, you weren’t. Instead, you were on the other side of the hall, chatting excitedly with two girls on your cheer team. 

Deep down, he had known you were talking to them to pass the time while you waited for him to arrive. 

But when you didn’t notice his presence the entire time it took for Peter to open his locker, exchange his things, and walk towards his class, he’d held it against you. Just like he held it against you when asked if your weekly movie night could be rescheduled to Thursdays because Fridays were gamedays. Or how, you were okay when some of your other friends joined the two of you at lunch. 

Peter just couldn’t stop. 

Anytime you apologetically told him you had plans, it was another tally accumulating how many times he’d been scorned. Even if the next words out of your mouth were asking if he was free the day after, it didn’t change anything. The cycle didn’t stop until November of freshman year. 

That was when you’d stopped trying to chase him down. Decided to not call him on the phone just to hear it ring twice before he sent you to voicemail.

“So I was supposed to sit alone on the bleachers while you cheered for a bunch of assholes that shoved my face into a locker freshman year?” His head cocked to the side but, hey, at least he’s actually looking at you. “Drag me around behind you like some kind of pet?”

“No!”

“So I could’ve stood alone in the corner at a party? Still making sure you got home safe? Wait on the sidelines until all the cool people were busy and I got called off the bench? Be there to comfort you when you picked, yet another, asshole that broke your heart just to break mine again and again?”

You couldn’t blink because if you do, the tears that had welled up in your eyes were going to start to fall. Those words make the lump in your throat so big that you can barely swallow it down.

“That what you wanted?” He asks and throws up his hands.

You told yourself you were both just drunk. Peter didn’t actually mean it. You told yourself that over and over again, the tension in the air was so heavy that it practically crushed you from the weight. He didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean it… The mantra repeated in your head like a prayer in the hope you’d believe it. 

You couldn’t convince yourself that it wasn’t the truth. 

When you didn't answer, he stepped closer. Your voice cracked but you managed to force out, “No.” Peter couldn’t help it, a cold and bitter chuckle slipped past his lips. He was pissed off, that much was clear. 

“No?” he asked. He was close now, his chest brushed yours with every breath. It was so far from what you ever wanted but you could barely shake your head no, your hair shifting along your shoulders. “I think you did, whether you realize it or not.”

Even though his voice has dropped, he might as well have screamed it at you. It didn’t make it any less deafening to hear. 

“Anything else you want to say?” You were quiet too, the words felt like glass in your throat. So you swallowed down the shards, finding that glass would hurt a lot less than having to stand here and listen to him much longer. 

He ran his hands through his hair and paced a few steps away from you while wiped at your face. It only took him a few moments to turn back a second later and step back up to you. There was barely an arm's length between you two but it still felt like you were on opposite sides of the solar system.

"You want to know what I think? What I really think?"

You had to grit your teeth just to keep your bottom lip from trembling. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I really do.”

He stared down at you, his breathing still ragged. He wanted to say things, terrible, awful things. He wanted to cut you deep - to hurt you like you hurt him. 

Instead, he stepped closer. Close enough that he was in your space, his chest practically brushing against yours. 

And then he was talking, the words falling from his lips before he could stop himself.

"I think,” he murmured, wetting his lips before continuing. “I think that letting you patch me up when I fell off my skateboard nine years ago was the biggest mistake of my life."

For a long moment, you said nothing. You didn’t move, you didn't blink, you didn't breathe. If you didn’t take a few seconds to calm yourself, you were going to start bawling before you could make it to the safety of Flash’s bathroom. 

With a shaky breath, you stepped back, forcing your trembling lips into a tightlipped smile. A part of you wanted to mean it, like it could somehow reassure him.  So you sniffled, wiping your eyes with the back of your hands. Peter just frowned and waited because he couldn’t do anything more. 

Your laugh was pathetic and watery. Nothing was funny. 

Aside from you because you just felt like a joke. 

You gave him a curt nod and stood straightened. “Okay.” It’s all you could get out. 

So, with one last look, you bent down to pick up the discarded solo cup. You’d never be able to drink strawberry lemonade vodka again after tonight. All you’d ever taste is him. 

He watched you carefully, the anger leaving his body in waves and dissipating into the night. Every time you took a step away from him, he felt more and more like a jerk. 

You don’t turn back around as you slip back around the side of the house. 

It was that look on your face, like he broke you with his words. The look on your face that cut through every last bit of anger and resentment to get at what lay underneath. 

Love.

And it kills him. 

It kills you too. 

The next time you see him again, you’ve both graduated from college; celebrating in some divey bar where you accidentally spill your drink on him.

[sincericida]

ANDREW GARFIELD

on backstage of "The Amazing Spider-Man 2" (2013)

[cyanidespideycup]

I think a lot of people conflate superheroes as a whole to specifically Batman when it comes to the importance of a life. It makes sense, supers are meant to be put on pedestals and represent what we should all aspire to be. But it's weird when this gets applied to Spidey.

Just like everything else with Peter, he is a regular guy. Other superheros represent what we should aspire to be, but Spidey represents what we can be. He cares for every life. He hopes to give everybody a second chance. But if someone asks for it, Pete will beat their fucking skull in.

When his cop/detective friend Jean DeWolff was murdered, he hunted the man down and physically fought his way past Daredevil to kill the guy and ended up beating him within an inch of his life. When Kingpin got May shot, Peter broke into his prison, effortlessly beat him to a smear, and then promised that when May died, not if, he'd come back and finish the job- violently. There are just countless instances of him deciding "I'm actually going to kill him now totally" with Norman. Most notably of course is the glider incident, which Peter didn't actually go to with the intent to kill (weirdly enough despite Gobby killing his fiance). However, he took pleasure in beating him senseless and wasn't exactly broken up by the final thud.

Peter's a guy who meets every situation with the intent to help someone. He tries to find every opportunity to help another person, even someone who's trying to kill him, even if it's at his own detriment. He's not a perfect manifestation of morals and purity. He's just some guy. Some guy who cares a whole lot for people. And that makes it all the more special when he does help someone. When he talks a girl off a roof, or inspires a kid to be better than the system set him up for, or befriends his own rogues. It all feels so much more personal. This is just a person, one of us. Someone who fails more often than not, who makes bad jokes and gets angry and feels hate and love and pain all at once and most of all, someone who tries his best no matter what.

[jordiestardust]

peter parker playing with hot wheels on my thighs could fix me

[tasmpetersgf]

Sunburn

TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: you refuse to put on sunscreen and end up with a bad sunburn

Word count: 637

“Come on baby, you need to put some sunscreen on,” Peter tells you while he slathers himself in some.

The two of you are currently on vacation at the beach, where it is super cloudy. You can’t even see the sun right now, let alone feel it’s warm rays on your skin.

You sit up from where you were laying on a towel, lifting your sunglasses up so you can look at Peter while you talk to him.

“I’m fine the suns not even out,” you tell your boyfriend. You lay back down and close your eyes, enjoying the calming sound of ocean waves. “I can’t even feel any heat or rays on my skin Petey. I’ll be fine.”

“Fine but don’t say I didn’t warn ya.” Your boyfriend goes back to sitting underneath the umbrella while you spend the rest of the day laying on a towel, not underneath and umbrella and with no sunscreen on.

“Come on honey it’s time to go,” your boyfriend says, helping you up after a few hours. When he grabs your arm, you yelp.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you tell him, not wanting to let him know the real reason why you’re in pain.

“You sure baby?”

“Yep,” you say popping the p.

The two of you walk back to your rental house. The walk is short, but with your burns it feels agonizing.

Once the two of you make it back to the house, you quickly plop your stuff down and rush inside, excited to be able to sit down and not aggravate your burns.

You wince as you sit down, and at the same time your boyfriend walks through the front door. And of course he notices your wince, since he’s Spider-Man and has amazing hearing.

“Sounds like someone’s burnt.”

“I’m not,” you say indignantly. “My skin is perfectly fine.”

“Then why do you look like a lobster?”

“Well maybe that’s just my normal skin tone Peter.”

“Sure it is baby. So it wouldn’t hurt if I did this?” He asks, pressing a finger lightly into your arm.

You try to stop a cry from escaping your lips, but it comes out anyway

“Peterrrr,” you whine.

“I know it hurts baby but we need to put some aloe on that,” he says, trying to comfort you.

“Ok,” you grumble.

Peter walks down the hall and comes back with a bottle of aloe. He squirts some into his hand and gently touches your shoulder. You involuntarily wince, the light touch being too much for your delicate skin.

“I’m sorry baby. I know this hurts but you’ll feel better soon,” he says, being as gentle as he possibly can be with you. He rubs it into your shoulder and then moves on to the other one.

“Can you turn around for me? I wanna see if the backside of you is burnt.” You do as he asks and turn around so your back is facing him.

“It looks like the backside of you didn’t get burnt, just the front. Ok turn back around baby,” he tells you. You turn back around and he continues applying the aloe to your body until all of your burns are completely covered.

“Thank you Pete.”

“Of course baby. Anything for my little lobster,” he says giving you a kiss on the head. He carefully wraps his arms around you, avoiding your burns. You bury your head into his chest, laughing at the new nickname he just gave you.

“What you don’t like the nickname?” He’s teasing you and you know it. You pull your head out from his chest and look up at him.

“No Peter not really,” you say still laughing.

“Would you like my little crab instead?”

“I think that’s even worse Petey.”

“My little lobster it is then.”

“I guess it is.”

[uhhhj13iguess]

my hero

peter parker x gn! reader

summary: pt 2 to large cheese pizza, please. peter has you stay with him after rescuing you from your abusive (ex)boyfriend, and years of mixed feelings flood you both.

wc: ~2k

cw: talks about dv, not much detail. talks about bruising/injury from dv. hurt/comfort but mainly just the comfort portion. might pt 3 this with a love confession, idk!! loving this tho

masterlist!

though both of your feet had landed firmly on his bedroom floor, neither of you let go of the other, your hands still wrapped around peter's neck tightly as he held your waist with just as much intensity.

neither of you spoke, peter knowing it wasn't yet the time to ask you about it. you needed to decompress first, and he understood that. he was just happy to see you safe.

relectantly, peter pulled away from you to meet your gaze, a frown setting on his lips as he saw your black eye again, the split in your bottom lip still bleeding ever so lightly. with extreme caution, he raised his hand to your jaw, watching for any sign of discomfort or flinching. you didn't, though, immediately melting into his touch and eyelashes wet again.

"thank you, peter." you whispered, eyes fluttering closed as you took a full breath for the first time in hours.

his shoulders relaxed. "i will always protect you. thank you for calling me, i... I'm sorry i didn't get there b-before... he..."

his fingers grazed over your battered lip, his other hand lifting to your swollen eye, tracing the outer edges of the bruise. he let out a shaky breath, his own eyes growing watery. "i'm so sorry, (y/n)."

you held his wrists in your trembling palms, bringing them down so you could have his full attention. "you saved me, peter. if you hadn't shown up when you did, i... i don't know, i mean..."

"hey," peter grabbed your shoulders, forcing your wandering, anxious eyes back on him. "none of that."

you took a deep breath, trying to ground yourself again. "m'sorry."

"come on," he slid your bag off his shoulders and handed it to you slowly. "go take a shower and get changed, bug. i think that'll help you calm down right now. i grabbed what i could, but take anything of mine that you need. i mean it, stay with me."

the way he said it made your heart flutter. it wasn't a question. he wasn't asking if you wanted to, if you'd feel safer doing so. it was a statement — protective in nature. you nodded shyly, turning towards the door. you stopped in its frame, looking back towards the tall brunette.

"thank you. really," you paused to clear your throat, voice still shaking with adrenaline and mixed feelings. "my hero."

it was meant as a joke, but the sincerity in your tone was genuine. peter felt like he could pass out. "always."

that evening, he made dinner for the two of you, queueing up all your favorite movies and loading the couch with every pillow and blanket he could possibly find. it was getting late, and though you still hadn't talked about it, you felt safe and calm, and that was all peter could ask for.

the heavy fog of sleep slowly but surely crept over the room, you and peter exchanging occasional yawns as moonlight flooded in through the windows. you turned to him next to you and bumped his elbow, pulling his attention from the screen. his curly hair was messy, glasses hanging loosely from his face as the glow of the tv made him look impossibly heavenly. you hope the otherwise dark room hid the flush of your cheeks.

"you can take as much of this back to your room as you want. thank you again for letting me crash on your couch, pete. you didn't have to do that, i could've gone back home tonight." your voice was soft against the background noise of the movie.

peter shifted towards you, eyebrows knit together as a question formed on his lips he didn't quite know how to ask. "(y/n), you don't, you don't have to sleep on the couch."

you laughed at him like he was insane. "and make you sleep on the couch in your own apartment? you're crazy, parker."

he let out a frustrated sigh, sitting a little taller. "no, i just mean, if... if you don't want to be alone, y'know. you're welcome to... to sleep in my room, if, if you want." the last few words were brought to a whisper.

now you desperately hoped the darkness covered your blush.

peter stood quickly, anxiety taking over his actions. "if you want! you know, if you want. just, putting the invitation out there. i'll be, uh, in my room, if you want. or not! that's just, where i'll be."

he let out a nervous laugh, bounding down his hallway as he left you on the couch, wide-eyed and frozen still. after taking a few minutes to compose yourself from his offer, you crept after him, reaching his door with hesitation.

you wanted nothing more for peter to have meant it that way, like something more, though you knew he didn't. you'd cuddled plenty of times before, as so many best friends did. especially when one of them was hurting. that's what that was. a pity invitation.

you took a deep breath, contemplating whether or not you wanted to bother him more than you already had today. with a pained sigh and unrequited feelings creeping on your chest, you turned on your heels, heavy stomps signaling your retreat back to the couch.

peter had watched the shadow of your feet under the door the entire time, heart panging in embarrassment as he watched you backtrack.

fuck.

the next morning, peter woke up to the sound of his shower running, signaling your rousal too. he groggily trotted down the hallway into the living room, taking in the folded blankets stacked on the couch and last night's festivities cleaned up and lined on the coffee table. he smiled at your hospitality, his heart warm as he made his way to the kitchen to start on breakfast.

not long before he was done with his famous pancakes, he heard your pattering footsteps enter the room, the smell of his body wash on you overwhelming his senses. he turned to see you, clean skin glowing and hair damp from the shower.

"morning, pete. makin' breakfast?" you motioned to the stove.

he nodded back, eyes wide as he noticed you wearing one of his shirts and a pair of your shorts. you followed his gaze down to your torso with flushed cheeks.

"oh, yeah. i didn't sleep well and in my haze just kinda grabbed what i saw, sorry. did you want to wear it? i can change?" peter shook his head quickly, a soft "no" falling from his lips faster than he meant.

"no! i mean, no, that's fine. really, take anything you need," he handed you a stack of pancakes, fresh fruit piled high next to it. his brows furrowed and his lips hung with a frown. "i mean it, i want to take care of you. i'm sorry you didn't sleep well."

you felt a pang of guilt in your stomach, remembering recent events. "s'okay."

you took the plate, not meeting his eyes as you turned to head into the living room. tension filled the air as you came to terms with the fact you couldn't escape this conversation much longer.

peter took a seat next to you on the couch, concern lacing his features as he studied you. he spoke cautiously, "do you want to talk about it?"

you felt heavy.

"i can't put that on you." you let out quietly, not meeting his gaze still.

he took yours hands in his as you began to fidget, nerves taking a physical hold on you. "hey. you aren't putting anything on me, okay? please, tell me what's been going on."

so you did. you sat and told peter about brad and his drunk rampages, how he'd get aggressive and physical, but never leave marks in places people could see. so you kept it to yourself. you felt stupid enough for ending up in each situation, each fight. you couldn't put that on someone else. peter listened in enraged horror as you told him of all the times he'd put his hands on you, each time he'd hurt you with his words and actions. he watched as tears formed in your eyes, voice growing strained as you willed it not to shake. he couldn't take it.

"oh (y/n)," he lunged towards you, wrapping you up in his arms as tight as he could, running his hands through your hair as you sobbed into his chest. he cooed at you, whispering to you how you were safe, how sorry he was. how he'd never let anyone hurt you ever again. he held you for what felt like a lifetime before you pulled back, wiping the final tears from your cheeks.

"i'm sorry i didn't tell you sooner. i'm sorry i had to tell you at all, this is all my fault." you let out with a pained laugh. peter didn't reciprocate.

"(y/n), don't you dare say that. this is not your fault," his words echoed through the quiet apartment, lifting a heavy ache from your chest. you nodded slowly, leaning your head back on his shoulder. he rubbed your back loosely, his chin resting atop your hair.

"i'm never going to let anyone hurt you again." he repeated. you believed him.

over the course of the day, you each worked lazily on your schoolwork, bumming around peter's apartment and enjoying the peace between the two of you. you both lay on his bed, laptops open and textbooks scattered about. you let out a soft yawn, earning the attention of peter.

he looked up from his notebook to glance at your over his shoulder, watching as your eyes grew heavy and your shoulders slumped. a smirk played on his lips. "baby, you tired?"

you felt yourself go red at the pet name again, shifting to sit up to distract from your glowing face. "yeah, jus' didn't sleep much."

peter frowned. "i'm sorry. i really would've let you take the bed, i didn't mean to..." he let out a nervous chuckle, "to make it weird."

you glanced up at him, taking in his demeanor. he was nervous, remembering his offer to share his bed and getting bashful. you gave him a remorseful smile, sensing his embarrassment.

"you didn't, pete. really," you shuffled closer to him, leaning down to look at his pretty face. your heart fluttered when his beautiful brown eyes met yours. "i meant to come in. i wanted to. i just... felt guilty, i guess. to intrude on your space even more."

you let out another yawn and peter smiled at you, moving to sit up and gather your collective schoolwork. "baby, you could never bug me. promise,"

he smirked, definitely aware of the pet name's effect on you. he scooted towards his headboard, moving under his covers and lying on his back. "come'ere, bug."

you blushed as he held his arms open, offering for you to snuggle into him. it wasn't like you haven't cuddled peter before. after years of friendship and countless movie nights, it wasn't foreign for one of you to fall asleep on the other. but this time felt more weighted.

you climbed up towards him, making your way under the blanket as you clung to his side. he immediately wrapped you up, nearly pulling your body on top of him. you rested your head on his chest, praying he couldn't hear just how fast your heart was racing.

he could.

"this okay, baby?" he slurred, sleep already rasping his voice.

you nodded against him, wrapping your arms up around his neck. "more than."

[myloveoffandoms]

I feel bad for max/electro like everyone treated him like shit and his only "friend" was talking to imaginary spider-man.

I don't care if y'all think i'm nuts but I feel like if he had someone from the start to help him he never would have been a villain...

[shironezuninja]

There are 2 public schools several blocks from each other, where I still live in between them. Their interior designs of the hallways and gymnasiums are the same. But I only had to endure going to one of them from Kindergarten to 2nd Grade, to still be haunted of my own past.

Now, I’m being encouraged to enter one of them to vote in the gymnasium in November. And I have to choose between my laziness/reluctance to do something outside of my automatic stimulated interests, in order to save our democracy from tyranny.

[sincericida]

«12-year-old Fred Hechinger interviewing ANDREW GARFIELD about “The Amazing Spider-Man” (as denied by Joseph Quinn)»

(Fred Hechinger x/t)

[starryoong]

Beyond the heightened limits 🕸️

Drawn in Procreate.

[conceptartbyshay]

with great power…

adobe illustrator

february 3, 2025

[underoospeterparker]

request ! peter (parker) has a photography class assignment and reader is the subject <3

this request has been here forever and i'm only getting to it now - this isn't proofread

snapshots - a peter parker x reader fic

"pete!" you called over to him, waving from your locker. as soon as he spotted you, his face softened and a wide grin spread on his lips.

"hi baby," he greeted as he made his way over to you, immediately reaching you to press a kiss onto the side of your head.

you pouted, asking quietly, "can i get another one?"

your boyfriend laughed softly. "so polite," he murmured, leaning down to kiss you, on the lips this time, and you sighed softly as he cupped your face in his warm palms. "i missed you," he said, smiling against your mouth.

after almost a year of dating, peter could still make your cheeks turn bright red. you blushed, suddenly shy as you replied, "i missed you too."

he wrapped an arm around your waist as you both started to walk out of the school, talking about nonsense that happened in different classes, and he burst out laughing when you mentioned how you gave flash so much shit in class for being such an asshole.

once he caught his breath, he mumbled a soft "that's my girl."

fighting back another blush, you asked, "how was your day? anything interesting happen?"

peter paused for a second, before saying, "we have a new photography project coming up." he hesitated, but you coaxed him into telling you more, big brown eyes wide and curious. "we have to choose a subject."

"you got any ideas?" you questioned.

he nodded, a serious look on his face. "you."

"huh?" your playful look turned confused, and you turned to face your boyfriend, stopping abruptly. "what do you mean?"

sensing your mood, peter stopped too, taking the moment to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "you're my muse for everything, baby. and i want you to be the subject for my project. i wanna show the world how beautiful you are." he hesitated, then added, "if you're okay with it, of course."

"are you kidding?" you flung your arms around his shoulders, pressing your head into his sweater. "i'd love to, pete."

he beamed at your response, peppering kisses all over you once you pulled away. "thank you."

"so," you said as you reached for his hand, interlocking your fingers and squeezing them tightly. "when do we start?"