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urrockstar-xe · 3 months

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math test - p.parker x fem!reader

posted jan 27th, 2024 3:28 pm

came up with this cutesy idea the other day, hope u enjoy :)

summary: Peter's tired of allowing Spider-Man to be a shitty boyfriend, so he makes up for it the only way he can think of that wouldn't get you in trouble.

masterlist

not proofread

wordcount: 0.8k

It was nearing 2 in the morning when Peter slowly lifted his window open from the outside, not so gracefully falling inside once it was a wide enough gap, followed by him stumbling several times as he tried to close his window while simultaneously trying to take off the red and blue spandex suit that so badly needs a wash.

The sound of his old bed frame creaking caught Peter’s attention once he finally pulled on some sweatpants.

He whipped around, his gaze immediately falling to your half-asleep figure in his bed, a familiar sight now, one Peter had adored. Your half-opened eyes tried to focus on his silhouette.

“Shit, hey sweetheart I didn’t mean to wake you” Peter’s whispered apology was laced with a soft muffled tone as he pulled a hoodie over his head, not bothering to fix his hair as he made his way towards his bed. “Didn’t know you were sleepin’ over tonight” He said with a tired smile playing on his lips, the bags under his eyes failing to distract you from the beauty that was your sleep-deprived boyfriend as you merely scooted over for him to join you.

“Supposed to help me study for that test” you mumbled, no malice in your voice, no hints of irritation, not even a slight sadness to your voice at the thought of him forgetting about your plans. All you cared about at this moment was your boyfriend cuddling with you, using all your energy to open your arms for him to slide into.

Peter stopped dead in his tracks, looking down by the nightstand and seeing your backpack on the floor, a math book sitting on the floor beside it next to a few pens. So that’s what he tripped on when he came in.

“Oh, man. I’m sorry, doll. We can work on it first thing in the morning, swear.” Peter promised, giving into what you wanted and sliding in bed next to you, wasting no time in wrapping you in his arms.

“It’s due tomorrow, and I have to leave early for that dumb field trip.” You mumbled into his shoulder, not meaning to but making Peter feel all the worse for forgetting as he softly smoothed his hand up and down your back.

By the time Peter woke up the next morning you had already left, leaving behind a note on his desk.

”don’t think too hard about that test, I’ll just ask if I can have extended time on it. I’m just happy you got home safe”

The little hearts surrounding your name at the bottom and the emphasis on him getting back at all seemed to have the opposite effect on Peter than you had intended.

As now, he just seemed more determined to fix this problem he had made.

You laughed as your friend lifted her arms into the air, taking in a big deep breath as you both finally got off the bus, “freedom!” she exclaimed.

“We have that test in like 30 minutes” You reminded her with a smile, earning a glare in response. “Buzzkill”

You chuckled this time, before watching her lift her finger and point behind you, turning as you followed where she was pointing, “that’s geek charming, what’s he doin’ here?” she asked quietly, expecting you to have an answer as you watched your boyfriend hurry over to you, green folder in his hand.

“No clue, I’ll meet you inside” You smiled at her, watching her nod and smile back in response, walking backward towards the school while she obnoxiously waves and says “Hi, Peter!”

Peter waved back, finally in front of you as he turned his gaze to see you already looking at him, with a soft smile.

“Hey,” Peter matched your smile, holding out the folder to you before you could respond. “For your test, you forgot your math stuff in my room, so”

You smiled, taking it gratefully, “Thanks, Petey. Although I don’t know how much help it’ll be-” Peter cut you off, “I mapped out in your notebook exactly how you can find any answers for the test and explained it in notes how I knew you’d be able to understand” You looked at him in awe as he rambled, watching as he took off his backpack and fumbled with it before pulling out your math notebook and handing it to you. “Peter-” “I almost wish I could take the test for you, I’ve just had so much to do lately as you know who and that’s no excuse for ditching my best girl when she needed my help so I figured this was the least I could do” Peter continued, taking a breath once he had finished.

You set the folder and notebook down on the grass, pulling Peter into a tight embrace. “This is nice” he mumbled into your shoulder, squeezing your waist ever so slightly. “I love you, Peter Parker” You mumbled back, pulling back just enough to set a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you more, now go pass your test and make me proud, you can do that, can’t you, sweetheart?” Peter smiled at you, chuckling as you placed one, two, three more kisses on his mouth before pulling away and grabbing your stuff.

“When I pass, you’re buying me dinner, baby!” You said, beginning to walk away.

“Whatever you want, doll!”

#tasm peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm x reader #tasm x you #tasm x y/n #peter parker imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagines #the amazing spiderman x reader #Spotify

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literaila · 10 months

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still here

tasm!peter x reader

summary: there’s an ache in me, put there by the ache in you

(for @elysian-chaos)

warnings: angst, fluff, feeling unworthy, feeling useless, you know, seperation

a/n: ‘tis the damn season is the best song ever. dont argue

there's this little thing called stress baking.

typically, stress baking is referred to as coping by making something delicious to scavenge on, instead of dwelling on the feelings scavenging you. and typically, it's done with a certain type of elegance--one that is made up of chaos. completely insane, yet completely in control. it's a messy dance, but perfectly choreographed.

stress baking is a very reviving task. filling up the house with muffins and pies is not only good for distracting yourself, but also for making friends when you run out of room. or smiling at the cashier every time you have to go to the store for ingredients.

it's something you've practiced for years. something you've become somewhat addicted to.

but then there's baking while stressed. which, you swear, hadn't been your intention.

brownies from a box were supposed to be easy. they were notoriously easy. a couple of eggs, some oil, and some water. the hardest part of your job was mixing, but you'd done it so many times that you zoned out while doing all of it.

box brownies were supposed to be non-stress and quick. but when you burn the brownies and batter rises over the top of your glass pan, and the oven is dirty, and the apartment smells like burnt batter and oven cleaner--well, you have to reread the directions.

you're a good baker. you've been making cookies and cakes for parties for years. you pride yourself on not needing measuring cups because you can eye a recipe by the gram.

not that these brownies would agree.

and it's already five-forty-five. peter is going to be home in the next fifteen minutes and this was supposed to be a treat. something good.

"surprise! i ruined our oven, and now we're going to have to spend the next few nights at your aunt's house in your twin-sized bed until the smell of death goes away!" doesn't typically bring out any smiles.

and peter's been stressed lately, and you've been stressed about him.

and now you're making brownies from scratch without butter--because you used it all on the last batch, oops--and the number of candles you've lit is a sure fire hazard.

but if peter would just smile at you, pull you in by your waist and laugh while he kissed you with a chocolate mouth, it would all be fine.

if there wasn't so much riding on this one (two) pan(s) of brownies. like being able to sleep comfortably tonight.

you turned the oven down, found a new pan--threw the other one out because it was nothing but a source of disappointment--and cleaned the oven just enough to not draw any suspicions. but you could still feel the failure lurking.

peter was going to come home to a chaotic house, and it was your fault.

so you scrubbed at the counters. fixed the stack of bills on the table so that you couldn't see any of the stamps, folded the blankets, and even swept the kitchen floor.

still, you knew peter would know. because he always knows. and maybe that was why he was acting so weird lately--maybe that's why you were acting so weird.

the door opened when the timer on the oven went off.

you'd wanted to watch peter walk through the door--so you could gauge how tired he was, how miserable--but maybe it was better not to know. to let him put on a mask while your back was still turned.

"hey, baby," he said, as you were pulling the brownies out of the oven, setting his house keys on the counter and sighing. "i'm home."

you peeked over your shoulder, giving him a hint of a smile--the same type he was giving you. "hey, honey," you said back, "you're home."

peter walked around the island to stand right behind you, kissing the back of your head and stealing a look over to the stovetop. he clears his throat. "brownies?"

you shrug. "thought you might like something sweet when you got home."

you take off the oven mitt, not really wanting to look at him--maybe because you're scared of what you'll see, or maybe just because you can already feel his eyes tearing down your skin.

but you can feel his breath on your neck as he chuckles. his exhaustion as he leans into your back.

"i've already got you, though," he whispers one peck at the edge of your jaw, another by your ear.

you snort and pull away, turning so you can look at him. and then you pretend to throw up.

he laughs and pokes your forehead.

you're not looking at him and he's not looking at you.

you turn back to the brownies.

"did you drop something in the oven?" peter asks, leaning his chin on your shoulder.

"no," you answer, a bit too defensive.

"sure?"

"am i sure that i didn't burn something in the oven, peter? yes."

there's a beat. "...cause it smells like it."

you headbutt him. "you smell like it. go shower. you can't eat these yet."

"yes, ma'am," peter takes a step back, and you look at him again. you can see the question in his eyes, and see your own reflecting the same question.

what are you hiding?

"we have some ice cream, too."

peter moans, his head back. you roll your eyes at him.

and you start cutting the brownies, worries, and chocolate chips sticking to the knife, listening to peter's footsteps, feeling his presence sticking to you like sugar, sticky and rich, his eyes keeping you on edge.

you know you shouldn't feel stupid--peter doesn't actually know what happened, or care--but you do. because he knows, and because even from the split second you looked at him, you could see the strain on his skin, the pressure weighing him down, dragging his feet across the floor.

you feel stupid just because you don't know what to do. so before he can close the door, you turn around. choosing reaction instead of pretending.

"peter?"

he pauses, his head whipping towards you. his eyes are as soft and loving as they always are--his attention remains the same, even when his energy doesn't. like he's wasting himself away just to take care of you.

he swallows. "yeah?"

"are you--" you blink, look away, try not to taste burnt brownies. "are you okay? you seem tired. was work… alright?

peter smiles, shaking his head. "just the usual, bub. work and... work. i think i'll go to bed early tonight?"

you raise a brow.

peter clears his throat. "i mean, i think i'll take a nap tonight before i go out."

you nod. "okay."

you both stare at each other for a moment. he's far enough away that it's easier. you don't have to feel his emotions as he processes them. don't have to see them from up close.

you hate yourself for being afraid of him. for being afraid for him.

“d’ya want to join me?” peter asks, whisper slipping from his mouth, smile taunting from his lips. “we can cuddle and eat brownies.”

you lick your lips, shaky smile enough. “you sure? i’ve heard i can be a bit distracting…”

peter’s laugh makes his shoulders shake. “you heard correctly,” he says eyes crinkled, “but i don’t mind.”

you nod. you’re grateful for his ease. the careful reveal of his true face, the peeling of a mask. the admittance that not everything is perfect, no matter how small.

“go shower. i’ll get the sugar.”

peter kisses you on the cheek before he goes.

and at least you got a couple of smiles out of him. at least you can feel his kiss lingering on your skin.

it's not that serious. honestly.

you hardly even think about it. you're not thinking about it.

you're not dwelling on the smell of soft skin and the feeling of calloused hands running up and down your back, the tickle of a breath against your neck.

you're not thinking about it at all.

and if it's been a week--or a week and a half, or two, or three--since you last spoke, or shared the same space with peter, then it's fine.

this is something you've grown used to. something you're supposed to be used to.

peter has obligations.

he has things he needs to fulfill--not just for himself, but for others, for the guilt that you can see rocking his bones all of the time, the shame in his eyes when he comes home a bit too early. he has places that he needs to be, if only because he won't be able to live with himself if he's not there.

but then again, you're not sure how to live when he's not here. especially when the sink breaks.

still, as long as you can feel him pull you into his chest every night, imagine him kissing your forehead before falling asleep, then it's fine.

you're not thinking about any of it because it's fine.

but you miss him. if only momentarily.

he'll come back--you repeat this like a promise, like it's his voice whispering it to you--because he always does.

space is good for the heart, some part of you swears. though you don't think you could think of peter any fonder than you already do.

he comes in too late at night and is already gone when you wake up. he texts you updates--because you've talked about communication before--and tells you that he loves you through sweet little notes he sends during the day.

if the thing he wishes to share about his life is the worm he found in his apple, then you're perfectly happy to listen (read).

it's normal to miss the person you love most in the world.

and it's normal for your boyfriend to disappear for fourteen hours each day, just barely cuddling with you for three hours before he's gone again.

it's normal for you, at least

he’ll come back.

and so, instead of thinking about peter, and wondering when he might notice the frayed edges of your relationship, you make sure that he doesn't have to worry about anything.

you clean up after the two of you, running the dishwasher and cleaning the bathroom, and packing him lunch on days you know he'll be gone for the office. making sure there's always something he can eat in the fridge when he gets home late at night, and texting him to know what he wants from the store.

you make the bed and wash his clothes and hope that maybe it'll keep him from burning out.

you hope that maybe it will keep you distracted enough to not ask him for anything. like love or support or a five-minute conversation.

if taking care of him is the only way to keep him going--the only way to keep yourself going--then you'll do it. peter takes care of you enough.

but even if you're not thinking about it, it's there.

because you've just fallen asleep--which is extremely rare recently, mostly because you like to wait until you hear the window and then slow your breathing until you feel peter crawl into bed with you--and just woke up.

woke up with sweaty skin and a headache. it's night ten and you're getting nightmares again.

it's ridiculous that you can't even last two weeks without peter there. without him kissing you to sleep.

and when you burst out of bed, you almost fall into him--almost scream because you're sharing the bed with someone else.

tears are running down your face. your heart feels split open--like your dreams have revealed something inside it.

but you look over to peter and he's there; he's still here.

so you take a deep breath--chest caving in, body following--and you rest your head in your hands.

if there's anything you want right now, it's for peter to wake up.

it's for him to know all of this.

you want him to appear next to you, leaning over your back like he's going to shelter from the world if that's what you need. rubbing your back and whispering in your ear. you want him in your house and laughing when you break the shower rod again.

you want him to cuddle with you before he leaves, and cross his heart when you scold him while he crawls out the window.

you want him in more than just your memory.

but peter is snoring next to you, and so you sit there in silence until the tears begin to ease.

peter's not supposed to be home.

he works until five, and then takes the subway home--and you're not expecting to see him anyway. he's been shoving his suit into the bottom of his backpack right as you pull it out of the hamper.

so it's not that unusual for you to be laying in bed, shoes and socks kicked across the floor, hands gripping for some stability, and eyes puffy and red.

and it's not that unusual for you to squeak when the window opens, and spider-man's head peeks into your room.

you can feel peter's wide eyes behind the mask.

you're quick to wipe your face, throw on a clumsy smile. "peter," you say, exhaling. "what're you doing here?"

a body crawls into the window, dirt and grime on clothes finger-tips reaching out to you. "what's wrong?" he asks, voice only slightly muffled.

but you take a step back, moving away from him when he lands on the floor, leaving spots for you to vacuum up later.

"what're you doing here?" you repeat, voice a bit harsher, a bit faded.

"i need--" he reaches his hand out toward you again, retreating when you do. "i needed some more web fluid. i don't--" he shakes his head. "what happened?"

"i, um," you wipe traitorous tears away again. "i think there's some more in the closet. i keep moving it when i'm cleaning, sorry."

"you're crying," peter scolds. like you're being ridiculous. like you're not trying to save him the effort it's going to take to fix this irrational piece of you, these lonely broken bits.

you bite your lip and look away.

because although you can't even see his eyes--they are still scolding. they are quick and cruel reminders that you haven't talked to peter in two weeks.

you turn towards your bedside table, pretending to organize the contents on top.

you can hear peter moving.

"what's going on, bub?" he says, soft enough for the words to crawl under your skin. he's taken the mask off. his voice is clear.

"oh, nothing, you know," you pause, shrugging. "just the usual sad movie type of cry..." peter's hand reaches your back and you flip around, almost knocking over your lamp.

"c'mon," he whispers to you, far closer than you'd been expecting.

you try and take a step back, only meeting a dead-end. he's cornered you. "you should go, peter. you were just--"

"this is more important."

you laugh. "some silly tears are more important than a collapsing building?"

"you're more important," peter swears, his eyes so focused on yours, "to me."

you blink and shake your head. gesture back towards the window. "go and save some people. you don't have to help me too."

peter swallows, brows furrowed. "will you tell me what's wrong?"

"i can take care of myself, peter. you don't need to worry about it."

"well, i'm going to."

you roll your eyes. and then you break free of his hold, moving away from the table, from the cage he's built around you. "move along, spider-man."

peter doesn't move any closer, but his limbs are tense. his face is concerned and hurt--you try and shield that out.

"i'm not leaving you when you're crying."

"i'm not crying anymore."

peter scowls. "stop deflecting."

you take a deep breath, throat dry and aching. "i'm not--" you clear your throat, shaking your head and looking away from him. "i'm fine, peter. but some people actually need you. go and save the day," you tell him. "i'll still be here when you come back."

and you are.

you're sitting on the couch, staring at photos peter took on the wall, wondering how to explain any of it.

how to explain yourself without digging the two of you any further in this hole.

you've been trying to prove just how little you need peter--just how useful you could be--and by doing so, you've put yourself in this situation.

because you do need him. you just hadn't wanted peter to know that.

so you're sitting on the couch, trying not to flinch every time the air conditioning comes on, or there's a footstep from the apartment above you. you're waiting for peter to climb in through the window, waiting to see how exhausted he is before he has to deal with you.

and you've bitten your lip raw. completely eliminated any evidence of fingernails you once had.

your heart stutters with every minute that comes by.

and when you finally hear peter hop in from the fire escape, your heart stops completely.

you wonder if he's going to change before he comes and finds you. before the inevitable happens, and you give him another reason to work so late.

your restlessness must be audible because it only takes peter forty seconds before walking into the living room. he's wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt.

he's wearing a frown like a well-tailored suit. known and made for him.

you're trying not to frown back.

"hey," you say, putting on a smile, voice flighty and an octave too high. "everything okay?"

"no one got hurt," peter says, the antonym to your tone.

"good."

apparently, your tight-lipped smile isn't enough to ease the tension in the room.

"are you ready to talk?" peter asks, slowly stepping toward you, just barely meeting your eyes.

you'd scrubbed your face after he left. sobbed in the shower as you washed away any of the shame you hadn't meant for him to see. you'd made sure that your eyes weren't puffy, and your eyelashes were dry before he'd got home.

so when peter scans your face--as he's doing now--he shouldn't notice anything unusual.

besides the facade you're putting on.

you clear your throat, eyebrows lifted like you're unconcerned. "there's not much to talk about."

peter's sullen face doesn't move an inch. "why were you crying?"

"i already told you. i watched a sad movie," you wave a hand, "you just came in at the wrong time."

peter sighs. he sits down on the couch next to you, keeping his distance. "don't lie."

you frown. "i'm not lying."

"you've got some pretty obvious tells, you know," peter whispers, giving you a hint of a bittersweet smile. "you don't have to talk to me. but i'd like it if you did. i just want to make sure that you're... okay."

"i'm fine, peter."

he looks away. "and if you're not then we'll figure it out. i just want to know."

"well, you do."

peter opens his mouth, then closes it, shaking his head.

he's sitting three feet away from you, but his hands are clasped together, his legs are opposite of yours, and he can't even look at you.

you can feel it, as you push him away. as you try so desperately to hold him close without touching him.

"okay," peter says, eyes meeting yours again. "i don't want to push you."

no, but he should pull you off of this ledge. should keep you from falling any further than you already have.

you shake your head, laughing. it's not funny.

"what?"

you close your eyes. count to ten. forget how to breathe, or how to speak to the person you love most in this world.

"what?" peter repeats, but softer.

you open your eyes.

and then it all crumbles.

you scoff. "can you stop looking at me like that?" you plead, breaking away, physically distancing yourself from him.

"like what?"

it's his fault, really, for coming home so early in the day.

"like you can't deal with this. like this is exhausting."

the tears sneak up on you, knocking you out before you even notice that they're there.

peter's eyes are wide as he stares at you. "you're not--" he swallows, frantically reaching towards you. "this isn't exhausting--i'm not--" a moment, tears beginning to fall. "what do you--"

you sigh, shaking your head. "you're always gone, and you come home exhausted every night after you think i've fallen asleep, and you only talk to me through text, and even now you just--" you stop, voice breaking. "if you can't do this," you say, softly, "then you should just tell me."

peter is closer than he was a moment ago. "what?"

"i know this is a lot of work, okay? and i know that you're already pushing yourself, so it's fine if i'm too much. if--if loving me is too much."

there's a moment of silence, and you're almost sure that peter has already left.

but then there's a thumb wiping a tear from your cheek. you can't open your eyes, can't face the reality you've been desperately holding off.

"you're not too much."

peter moves closer to you, his leg touching yours, his hands moving so that he can hold you closer.

you couldn't push him away if you tried.

"you're not too much," he repeats, the words sinking into your skin, his breath meeting yours. "i can't believe you would think that."

you half laugh, half sob. peter wipes away those tears too.

"you're the only thing keeping me going," he tells you, kissing your forehead. "i'm sorry i haven't been there. i didn't realize..." he shakes his head.

"you shouldn't have to take care of me as much as you do," you whisper.

peter nudges his head against yours. "hey. you take care of me way more than i take care of you. you clean up after me and stay up with me when i can't sleep. you help fix my suits, and do all of the laundry. and you never complain. you're practically my guardian angel."

"that's all easy."

"not for me," peter says, voice lighter than before.

you shrug.

"but you do all of that cause you love me," he adds, kissing your forehead again. "or, i hope that's why."

"it's the sex."

peter laughs, nuzzling his head into you. "well, at least you're honest. but, it's the same reason that i take care of you. you shouldn't feel... guilty because of that. you're no burden on me."

"no?"

"absolutely not."

you bite your lip. try and believe peter. but honestly, you're most lovesick from how close he's holding you. how you can feel his skin and listen to him speak somewhere that isn't your bed. you're not quite sure that this isn't a dream.

"hey," peter moves his head so you're looking at him. "we suck."

you laugh, leaning your forehead against his.

"i'm sorry it's been so long since we've... anything. it's been a rough couple of weeks."

"for me too. it's not your fault."

"you have to tell me if it's not enough, okay? i don't want you to suffer through it by yourself. if you need to talk to me--even for ten minutes--then you have to let me know."

"okay."

"do you promise?"

you nod against him, nose brushing his cheek. "i promise, peter."

peter smiles, satisfied. he groans, pulling you even closer to him. "i love you, bug. so much."

you can barely hear him because of how tight he's hugging you. it sort of hurts, but mostly heals.

"i know," you say back. but peter probably can't hear you, because you say it right into his shirt.

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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mrshipsmcgee · 1 year

Text

Golden beams of sunlight peek through the drapes, the warmth of a new dawn dancing across your face - the sounds of the insomnolent city wake you.

Quiet snores cause a smile to spread across your face as you turn to the beautiful man sleeping beside you, his cheeks squished against the pillow underneath his head, his hair wild. Despite the box fan being directly pointed at him, sweat beads lay across his forehead like a crown.

A human space heater, that man.

“Peter,” you breathe, your fingertips caressing his warm cheek before planting a tender kiss on the tip of his perfect nose.

He stirs, inhaling sharply as his eyes blink open - those honey eyes sleepily staring back at you through squinted lids.

He smiles, still blinking away sleep, “Morning, bug.” Peter’s voice is scratchy and deep.

God, you loved his morning voice.

“Good morning,” you say as Peter’s strong arms quickly snake around your waist, pulling you into his warm and sweaty chest.

“C’mere, it’s a Saturday morning - I’m not moving,” the bass of his voice vibrates against your cheek now pressed against his sternum. “I’m not going anywhere, especially because I have such a beautiful human in my arms.”

“Beautiful human?” You retort, pulling back from his embrace to look up at him - his eyes golden from the sunlight pouring into the room. A wide smile spreads across his handsome face as he giggles, shyly hiding his face in the pillow, kicking his leg over you and resting it on your hip, pulling you back into him.

“We should get breakfast delivered,” Peter says. “We should stay here all day, right here in this bed.”

“No Spiderman Delivery Service?” You ask, still wrapped in his arms. “He’s the fastest this side of town.”

“No no, Spider-Man is sleeping,” he says as he rolls himself on top of you.

“Ah,” you say, squished underneath the weight of Peter. “Well, I guess I’m just stuck here then.”

“Oh, I’ll stick you with something,” Peter smiles as he lazily ruts his hips against you.

“Peter Parker!”

Peter lets out a laugh, “oh, don’t Peter Parker me - I know you want this.”

“I do,” you smile.

“Yeah, you do,” he nuzzled his face into your chest.

—-

A/N: I don’t know what this is LOL I just felt inspired this morning. It may suck, but who cares because fanfiction is supposed to be fun :)

Anywho -

Happy Saturday! Love you guys <3

- Cait

#andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!spiderman x reader #andrew garfield #tasm fanfiction #andrew garfield fanfiction #peter parker andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield peter parker #tasm x reader #tasm x you #tasm peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #tasm peter parker fluff

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periprose · 9 months

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Hello dear! My request for you is: TASM Peter Parker + IDFC by Blackbear. I think the music fits perfectly in the dilemmas of Peter and fem!reader. What do you think? Thanks ;)

ahhh this is the best idea ever!! I love this song lol thank you for requesting it!

note: I'm writing Peter as the person feeling the emotions of the song

Peter watches as you get more inebriated. God, how many drinks could you throw back, the burning amber liquid seeming to have no effect on your throat?

His jaw clenches as he watches you giggle, snort, stumble over your words towards Flash. Flash Thompson, big blonde jock, not worthy of your attention, not like this. Flash would never know how much pining and groveling Peter had done just to get you to look at him the same way.

And last week? You did. You smiled at him, as if he was the only person in the world, the only guy worthy of your attention. You smiled and Peter's stomach exploded with butterflies and nausea and all those typical feelings that Uncle Ben had always told him would happen.

You certainly don't remember any of that right now. You're drunkenly giggling- your face reaches closer to Flash's own at the dinner table, and Peter cringes as he tries to look away, heart shattering as Flash combs back a piece of your hair. He knows- he knows- you might as well have been another pretty girl at Flash's disposal, and that he would never treasure you as you should be.

Flash licks his lips, and Peter feels himself give in. To the anger that he swore he'd never feel- the agony he feels because he's always thought you liked him. That one day, you would put a resolution to this dynamic you had with him- he just never thought it would be like this.

Peter gets going. He takes his bag, his camera, everything he brought for your stupid party, and heads out the front door, slamming it a little too hard.

Flash moves, perturbed. "Looks like that psycho is getting into one of his moods again."

"Oh, no..." You don't know why Peter's run out the door like that, but you let go of Flash, who to his credit, doesn't really mind.

"Peter, Peter!" You call after him, wrapping your arms around yourself. It's cold outside and your drunken stupor does not help.

He stops in the middle of the sidewalk. The street light illuminates him, and you don't notice how Peter's hand is balled into a fist.

"Hey. Why are you leaving, what happened?" You look up at him in confusion.

Peter can tell you're still too drunk to really talk things out with him. The fact that you're even pretending to care with him right now hurts. But despite that... he still wants you to lie to him. To be compassionate- even if Peter knows it's fake, he feels like it's better than nothing.

Unfortunately, you're still rather drunk, and Peter has to steady you with the most chaste of touches. He watches as you stumble over your words, not once, not twice, but three times of trying to work up something to say. And he just... he doesn't want your half-assed, drunken pity.

He knows for a fact you don't love him. That it was a fake dynamic concocted by his own idiocy.

"P-Peter?" You mumble up at him. "I don't want you to be unhappy with me. What's wrong?"

Peter shuts his eyes, feeling embarrassed to have to comfort you, but he doesn't know what else to do.

"Nothing's wrong. I didn't have anything to do at the party, so I thought I'd go back home." Peter shrugs as if it was completely nonchalant on his part. "No offense, but I was bored out of my mind. And I don't fucking care enough to exchange niceties and make other people feel comfortable."

You flinch, and Peter feels bad for just a moment. Just a second. Becuase you're not sober, so you're not in the best state of mind.

But he's been playing the fool this entire time, and he thinks it would be nice if you felt the same for a bit. Just for a day or two. He really doesn't care to see what you get up to at your fun, cool party, with fun, cool drinks and slutty, slutty hook ups.

"I... I'm sorry. If I knew that..." You swallow, looking down at the sidewalk, feeling humiliated by Peter's comments. You've always tried to be a good friend for him- you've always wanted to do right by him.

But something about the coldness in his tone right now tells you to back off. And you do so, with a lump in your throat.

"I would tell you to stay, but, um..." You shake your head. "Have a safe walk home."

Peter nods tightly and moves quickly, telling himself that he doesn't care. He didn't see the tears hanging from your eyelashes. He does not care especially because you're willing to tamper with his feelings so much.

He thinks that you'll be fine. You'll have Flash whispering sweet nothings into your ear, pressing kisses on your cheek and neck, and you won't ever pay him mind ever again. He represses the urge to go and make things right- go and fix things so you won't end up with a douche like Flash.

Peter knows no one has ever cared about him. He knows he's a bit of a nerd, an anti-social weirdo, and even if you made the effort to bridge the gap... he feels it's better this way. Why change?

He works on not giving a fuck. He pretends to not care when Aunt May asks how the party was. He does not lie awake thinking about you in the throes of passion, mouth open, chest flushed and red as Flash begins his disgustingly inelegant thrusts. Especially because it should've been him doing that, him and you together, and since it isn't- he doesn't fucking care.

Peter is surprised to see you sitting at his dinner table the next morning.

He's half asleep, but entirely awake when he sees you. Your eyes are bright, misty, a little teary- you have clearly been waiting for him. It looks as if you've spent some time regretting what you did to him.

Good, Peter thinks. Good that you understand how I felt for once.

"Aunt May let you in?" Peter asks, and you meekly nod. Peter doesn't have it in him to scoff at you- you're too clearly upset and he, try as he might not to care, still doesn't want to see you cry.

He thinks for a moment that you might've done so last night.

"Peter. Please, talk to me." You stand up from the table, but Peter isn't really listening, because he's grabbing cereal and a bowl, and trying to ignore you.

"You said everything you needed to say yesterday." Peter shrugs.

"No way. We didn't even get to talk about anything before you ran off." You cross your arms, but your gaze is still soft. "What did I do wrong? Tell me, so I can make things right."

"Sure, tell me a few more of your pretty little lies. That'll help." Peter scoffs with a heaping amount of pessimism, and you look even more hurt than you did yesterday.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Really?" Peter shuts the fridge a little too hard after pulling out the milk. "Okay, play dumb. I don't really care anymore. You've been out all night, probably fucking Flash, and you want me at your beck and call to be... what? Some sort of pushover? Do you have any idea how ruthless it is to mess with people's feelings?"

You gasp, but Peter isn't finished.

"You never loved me. You never even liked me." He shakes his head, getting a resolute look of sadness on his face. "You know how hard it is to be me? Be a fucking loser who has to try so hard to even get people to like him a little bit?"

Peter bites back some of his resentment, knowing that he doesn't want your pity. "Never mind. I don't care, just live your life without me."

"Peter. How can you just-" You inhale, a tight short breath that has Peter feeling that maybe he said too much.

Oh well. Seeing you again had ignited those angry feelings, and even if he pretended not to care- he still needed to speak on it.

"Me and Flash aren't anything. We didn't even kiss, for crying out loud-" You run your hand through your hair, feeling insane. "I'm sorry. I should've watched how close I was to him. I got a little bit too drunk."

"Yeah, you did." Peter snaps back.

"I really, really like you, asshole." You shut your eyes, feeling bile in your throat from how Peter seems to be judging you so harshly. "I thought I did. I don't know anymore. I pretended not to give a fuck because you always- you seem so aloof, Peter, and it was easier to pull away because I didn't want to get hurt- but I'm actually fucking scared of losing you. I guess I should've made that more obvious."

Peter pauses. Feels his heart thump a little harder, this time with immense regret. He loves you, he knows he does, and hearing the same thing from you? The same feeling of inadequacy, of wanting to be enough but having to pretend not to care?

Peter grabs your arm as you try to leave. You're stubborn, but he shakes his head- he looks remorseful.

"I'm sorry." He pulls you into a hug, one that you don't respond to for a moment, until you tentatively hug him back. "I am an asshole. I love you a lot, you must know that. It's not an excuse- I just wanted you to feel as bad as I did."

"Well, mission accomplished." You mumble into his chest. "I'm sorry, too."

"I thought I was like, some fool that was easily duped by a pretty girl like you." Peter admits, and you laugh. "No, really. You're too good for me."

"Let me decide that, Peter." You shake your head at him. "Come on. Why don't we try this again?"

Peter agrees, and thinks now is a better moment than ever to do what he wanted to do yesterday. He combs back your hair behind your ear, pressing a kiss there, and then leans in and kisses you, relishing in the fact that you tipped your head back so easily. Just for him, no one else.

#peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x you #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter x you #peter parker x you #spider man x reader #spider man x you #tasm x reader #tasm x you #requests #drabbles #tasm #the amazing spider man #the amazing spiderman #andrew garfield

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dilf-lover99 · 1 year

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The Secrets We Keep | P.P.

Pairing: Tasm! Peter Parker x Reader (no pronouns mentioned)

Summary: Reader and Peter have been together for over a year, but lately Peter’s been acting strange. When a rumour goes around that he’s cheating, will Peter finally confess the secret he’s been keeping?

Warnings: angst (with a happy ending), major miscommunication(s), spreading of a rumour, mentions of cheating, a kiss or two, like two swear words i think?

Word Count: 3.4k

a/n: this has been in my drafts forever but better late than never i guess ! happy reading besties<3

There are certain moments in time, you believe, specific junctures in which you can unambiguously determine a person’s character.

For instance, when Peter Parker magnanimously rescued you from being the quintessential misplaced new kid on your first day of school, shattering your momentary apprehension with a series of epigrammatic jokes, you knew he was good. He was the type of person you could trust with anything, with everything.

Including your heart.

You never intended for it to happen. For the mere sight of his gentle crooked grin to set loose a thousand monarch butterflies within the environs of your stomach. For his lambent mahogany eyes to elevate the beating of your heart to a near-incomprehensible speed each time they came into contact with your own. For your fingers to itch with envy each time he ran a slender hand through the tousled strands of chestnut resting contently atop his head.

You never intended to fall for him, but you did.

And somehow, to your outright unabridged relief, he reciprocated your affections.

Peter Parker was no longer the unattainable fantasy that consumed hours of your thoughts with visions of stolen kisses or illusions of whispered devotions. He was your boyfriend.

Perfection is a counterfeit concept; An unobtainable title which countless people have fallen short attempting to procure. But the first year of your relationship with Peter was exclusively comparable to the word perfect.

Peter was the resolute characterization of what a partner should be. Patient and understanding, affectionate and gentle, always there with a witty joke and a whimsical grin on your good days, or a comforting embrace and sibilations of reassurance on your bad ones.

Recently, things have been different. Peter has been different.

When you see him, on the rare days he’s not preoccupied with matters he neglects to inform you of, he’s perceptibly distracted, his fascinatingly intricate mind absorbed with thoughts of something else entirely.

You’ve contemplated bringing it up with him, yearning for some reassurance that you’re still what he wants, but each time your words attempt the journey from your brain to your lips, they get stuck in traffic. How exactly does one ask their boyfriend why he’s avoiding them like an umbrella-wielding pedestrian in an unusually heavy stretch of rainfall?

In all fairness, you’ve been avoiding him too. Since Friday night. Harry Osborne had thrown a party that night, ‘The Party to End All Parties’ according to the entirety of your peers. Extravagant house parties and overflowing crowds aren’t your preferred circumstances for socialization, but you seized the long-overdue opportunity to spend some time with Peter.

You wish you hadn’t.

You can’t pinpoint the precise origin of the conversation, only the ending which resulted in your premature departure from the Osborne residence, neglecting to mutter so much as a goodbye to Harry while the biting sting of unshed tears filled your eyes.

“I just- I wanted to spend some time together. I feel like we hardly see each other anymore.” Your voice trails off at the end, becoming a mere shadow of its former self.

“We see each other all the time! I was at your dorm the day before yesterday.” Peter’s voice holds firm in both volume and pitch, he’s not yelling but you can sense his tone’s underlying urgency as his hand weaves its way through his auburn tresses.

“That was Monday, Pete.”

“Okay, then we saw each other on Monday. Can you just give me a little space? Please? Just for a couple hours. I’ll come find you after and we can talk, okay?” His chocolate eyes soften near the tail-end of his sentence, making it evident how blissfully unaware he is of the internal war now waging behind your eyelids.

It takes more strength than you knew you could muster, to prevent the plethora of melancholy emotions from overtaking your being as you mutter, “You know what? I actually have that Chem lab on Monday morning, I think- I’m just gonna’ go home and study.” You don’t wait for his response, uncertain if it would only cause you more heartache, turning swiftly on your heels and making an abrupt exit.

You’re adrift in the memory, wondering if you should have reacted differently, explained to him the impact that the nuance of his words had on you. An unyielding hand on your shoulder seizes your attention, graciously preventing you from vigorously overthinking any further.

A single glance informs you that the impeccably manicured hand belongs to none other than Penelope Marsh, designated campus gossip. You can count on one hand the amount of conversations you’ve had with Penelope since you started university that didn’t include her spreading a rumour like a wildfire. You’re certain this encounter isn’t likely to take up another.

“(y/n), I just wanted to say that I’m so sorry. About what Peter did to you at that party. It was so messed up, seriously. Nobody deserves that.” There’s a discernible undertone of pity to her voice, though she wasn’t sorry enough to hold off commencing the conversation to begin with.

“How did you-?” You cut yourself off with a gentle shake of your head, a chuckle of acknowledgement breaking through. A magician never reveals their secrets and a Penelope never reveals their sources; You’re wondering if there’s not a trace of magic in the girl alike, the speed with which she seems to possess other people’s secrets is borderline wizardry. “Never mind,” You simper amusedly, your outward cheeriness fading as you continue, “It wasn’t a big deal, really. Every couple has disagreements, right? We’re fine.” You aren’t entirely sure which of you it is you’re trying to convince.

She’s looking at you with a mixture of pity and confusion, though you haven’t the faintest idea what she could possibly be confused about. She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again, akin to that of a gulping fish in the sea, “(y/n), whatever you said in the argument doesn’t justify him hooking up with some rando! There’s no way you guys can be fine after that!”

What?

You want to call her a liar, or tell her that she’s wildly mistaken, but you don’t. You’ve been driving yourself near the brink of insanity wondering what Peter’s been hiding from you. Though you could never imagine him doing this, how can you immediately deny the only answer you’ve been offered?

You have a plethora of questions, each one violently clawing at your trachea with its talons in an attempt to be the first one out. The words never make it past your lips, though the burning sensation remains in your throat. Articulation ceases to be within the realm of your current capabilities, because, how does one verbalize the breaking of their heart?

Penelope, with all of her ill-timed metaphorical bomb-droppings, is perceptive enough to read you like a storybook, “Oh my god. You had no idea, did you? Oh I’m so sorry! I thought- Actually, scratch that, I wasn’t thinking at all.”

Had these been any other set of circumstances, you’d find great amusement in watching the typically put together Penelope Marsh stumble over her words in a misguided yet well-meaning attempt to soothe you. But the verisimilitude of the situation persists like the unceasing violence of a thunderstorm without the assurance of a tepid luminous addendum.

Peter didn’t want to be alone that night, he just didn’t want to be with you.

Suddenly, the mere idea of sticking around for the Chem lab you’d spent the remainder of that Friday night studying for, turned the tides in your stomach. You have to get out of here.

And so you do.

Wallowing.

That’s the only activity you’ve partaken in since Penelope told you about Peter’s supposed cheating scandal this morning. The logical part of your brain knows you owe it to him, or at the very least yourself, to have a rational adult discussion about everything before mourning the loss of a relationship that hasn’t actually ended yet.

But the acerbic heartbroken part of you isn’t keen on having a conversation with him at all.

Neither part of you knows the appropriate way to react when Peter shows up at your dorm holding a charmingly disheveled bouquet of flowers.

“Hi.” His eyes take their time searching each carefully crafted feature on your face before stopping at your own eyes, a timid smile resting on his delicate lips.

When you don’t answer, Peter takes a modest step inside, softly closing the door behind him without breaking eye contact. “I’m a jerk.” He states resolutely, knowing it’s best to usher the elephant out of the room before it causes any severe damage.

You let out a sardonic chuckle at his words, believing they hold an air of truth to them now more than you ever thought previously. “You can say that again.” The sound of your own voice takes you by surprise, you were honestly unsure wether you were going to speak or not.

“I’m a jerk,” He repeats with a heart-shatteringly beautiful smile, making things even harder than they were before.

You can’t take it anymore, the bitter resentful part of you can’t, at least, “Penelope Marsh.” You state simply.

It’s unfair, truly, how Peter manages to look so handsome, even now, sporting a look of outright confusion. “What?”

“Penelope Marsh.” You say again, as if you’re adding any level of clarification.

“Gossip Girl?” He jokes, “What about her?”

“A year and a half, Pete! We’ve been together for a year and a half, and I have to find out you don’t want me anymore through Penelope goddamn Marsh.” Woah. You said that.

The words hit you harder than they did when they were simply thoughts. But you don’t ignore the minuscule tinge of pride you receive for finally verbalizing your feelings.

Peter’s face has paled significantly, he’s trying to convince himself that he couldn’t have possibly heard you correctly. Doesn’t want you anymore? You’re the only thing he wants anymore. That’s why he’s hardly seen you these past few weeks. Keeping you safe is all that matters to him, and if Spider-Man’s enemies found out about you? There would be no more you to want.

But he can’t tell you that.

Because keeping you safe also, painstakingly, means keeping you in the dark. He knows you, better than he knows himself, and he knows how you would react if he told you he was Spider-Man. You would panic first, dismayed at the level of danger he often finds himself in, then you would get angry that he kept this a secret so well and for so long, lastly you would bargain with him, tell him that you were proud of the work he’s done but he’s too young to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders and that he should give it a break, at least until after college.

And as positively relieved as he would be to finally unload the burden of harbouring this secret from you, he’s not ready to give up being Spider-Man, no matter how dangerous it is.

But he also can’t not tell you that.

Because the only thing worse than not being Spider-man anymore, is not being yours anymore.

“(y/n),” He starts, taking gentle determined steps toward you, “You know that’s not true, right?”

You swallow in a futile attempt to rid yourself of the burning feeling that’s once again made itself at home in your throat. “How would I know that Peter? Was I supposed to know you wanted to be with me when you spent all month avoiding me like the plague? Or was I supposed to figure it out when you were hooking up with somebody else at Harry’s party?”

You’re not sure how your brain has finally decided to work in tandem with your vocal chords but you’re glad to rid the words from their endless loop inside your brain.

“What?! (y/n), what the hell are you talkin’ about? I didn’t touch anybody, okay? I swear,” His voice is equal parts frantic and confused, “I would never do that to you! You gotta know that by now.” He takes another step in front of you, the perfect distance to reach out a gentle hand and caress your cheek, though he resists the urge, wanting to give you your space.

“I want to believe that Pete…”

“Okay, so believe it.”

“Then you have to tell me why.”

You both know the meaning of your words, yet he asks, “Why what?”

“Why do we hardly see each other anymore? And when we do, why are you a million miles away? Why are you keeping whatever this secret is? If you didn’t do whatever people are saying you did at that party, then why the hell can’t you just, please, tell me what’s going on?”

There’s an inkling of relief you feel, finally releasing the tiresome burden you’ve been staunchly carrying around for weeks, but there’s also a legion of salty unshed tears waiting to be freed from the surface of your eyes.

Simultaneously, Peter’s eyes well up with their own tears. His brain is shouting at his throat to vocalize the truth, the whole truth, and assure you that you couldn’t be further off the mark.

But it’s like he’s frozen.

The glacial sub-zero temperatures biting at the tips of his fingers prevent them from making contact with your own. The snowstorm waging within the arctic blurs his vision, keeping him from seeing reason.

Sensing a lack of response, you continue with a final desperate plea, “Please, just tell me the truth, Pete.”

Belatedly, the ice thaws, melting away his doubts along with it. You want to know the truth; You deserve to know the truth. And so he makes up his mind.

He’s going to tell it to you.

His sparkling umber eyes look at you with a mixture of sorrow and determination as he takes one more step, inching ever closer to you, a gesture that conflicts each of the thoughts jumbled together in your head. Closing his eyes briefly, Peter releases a subaqueous sigh before reopening them and fixing them on your own.

“Promise you won’t hate me?” His voice gives its best attempt at a facetious tone, but is quickly overtaken with nerves.

“I could never hate you, Pete.” You admit honestly, reaching your fingers out and resting them gently upon his arm, giving it a tender squeeze of reassurance.

And now he knows that he’s making the right decision.

Because even when you mistakenly think that he may have done something incomprehensibly horrible to you, you’re still comforting him, still vowing to be there for him no matter the circumstances.

Respiring once more, he braves himself as best as he can, and, eyes never wavering from their heavenly contact with your own, utters “I’m Spider-Man.”

You’re not entirely certain your ears have processed his words correctly. They couldn’t have, right?

“You’re what?”

“I’m Spider-Man.” Peter repeats, voice laced with disbelief. He’s shocked that he actually managed to get the words out, twice no less. He’s tried telling you before, a multitude of times in fact, but he’s never managed to come close until now.

Of the myriad of ideas circling around in the confines of your cranium pertaining to the secret that your boyfriend’s been withholding from you, none of them resembled anything similar to the truth.

He’s Spider-Man?

It made no sense. And yet it made all the sense in the world.

How had you not discovered it before?

The plethora of scrapes and bruises being smoothly swept away with a ‘Guess I’m too clumsy for my own good.’ The times he’d been hours late to a date or a study session only to turn up sweat-slicked and out of breath with an ‘I’m an idiot, I’m so sorry.’ The time you attempted to grab a hoodie from his closet only to be stopped by a panic-stricken, ‘No! I’ll get it. It’s- It’s messy in there.’

“You’re Spider-Man.” You murmur, eyes wide.

“Yeah.”

“What the hell, Pete!” You innocuously swat at his arm with your hand, drawing a soft ‘ouch’ from Peter as you continue, “You’ve been Spider-Man this whole time and you’re only telling me now?”

“I didn’t want to put you in danger, (y/n)! Do you have any idea what could happen to you if bad guys find out you’re dating Spider-Man?” Peter’s voice is a plea, desperate for you to understand that he kept this from you because he loves you.

“You should have told me sooner.” You mumble, frustrated, as you know he had a hell of a good reason for keeping it a secret so long.

“I know,” He moves his hand to cup your face, tenderly rubbing shapes into your cheek with his thumb, “I just didn’t know how. I couldn’t-” He rests his forehead against your own, sighing contentedly at the warmth, “I can’t stop being Spider-Man, (y/n), I won’t.”

“I would never ask you to do that, Pete.” You pull back, confounded that his assumptions would suggest otherwise.

“You wouldn’t?”

“No?” Confusion seeps through your utterance.

“It’s not exactly the safest job in the world.” He explains facetiously.

“Oh really? They don’t give you health insurance and monthly check-ups?” Your sarcasm holds a teasing undertone that makes the corners of Peter’s mouth twitch upwards; The early stages of a masterpiece in the making.

Your voice becomes serious once more as you gaze into his eyes, your hand moving to rest over his own on your face, “I don’t doubt it’s dangerous, Pete. But Spider-Man helps people- You help people. That’s pretty amazing.”

There are more words to be shared, further concerns to be addressed, but Peter can’t be bothered to think about anything but kissing you in this moment.

And so he does.

His tender pink lips brush themselves gently upon your own. His hand remains on your face, the opposite one making it’s way up to your other cheek as you wrap both your arms around his waist. The kiss deepens, your lips moving together leisurely and deliberately in synchronous ebullient harmony.

When you finally part, reluctantly requiring the catching of your breath, you’re both donning blindingly luminous smiles.

“I just kissed Spider-Man.”

“Woah, what? Where is he? I’ll kick his ass.” Peter’s blissed out smile remains on his face, widening tenfold as he registers the sound of your laughter originating from his bad joke.

“Hey, what do you think Penelope Marsh was talking about? At the party on Friday?” Your curiosity returns, without the presence of anguish, knowing whole-heartedly that your boyfriend hasn’t broken your heart.

Peter cringes slightly, resting his forehead against yours once more with a diminutive chuckle, “I might have had a small Spider-Man emergency. That’s why I sorta blew you off that night, which I’m still really sorry about, by the way. I snuck out through one of the guest room windows, but when I came back, my hair was all messy and someone opened the door and saw me putting my clothes back on. Not my finest hour.”

You can’t contain the laughter bubbling in your throat, Peter laughing along with you once the sound breaks past your lips. The two of you remain like that for a while, sharing laughs and gentle caresses.

“Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry.” You mutter earnestly.

“What? What’re you sorry for?” His eyebrows are drawn together in confusion while a small pout plays upon his lips.

“For believing that stupid rumour, I know you’d never do anything like that. And I should have told you how I felt sooner, instead of holding it all in until I blew up at you.” Communication is the key to any healthy relationship and you’re frustrated with yourself that you appear to have lost sight of that over the last couple of months.

“Hey,” His voice is velvet as he tenderly grabs hold of your face in both hands, steadying your gaze into his sentimental chestnut eyes, “It’s okay. We’re okay.” He smiles a contagious smile, “I’m sorry too. About everything. Let’s make a promise, okay?”

You nod your head perceptibly, an amiable smile resting contentedly on your lips.

“Promise that, from now on, we’ll tell each other everything, okay? Even if it’s hard, or dumb, or one of those weird facts you always seem to have about the moon.”

“It’s earth’s natural satellite, Pete!”

Your smile widens as Peter chuckles affectionately at your quick defence of moon, “Yeah,” You start, still smiling brightly, “I promise.”

“Good. Me too.” He pulls your body closer to his own, kissing you once more with sincerity.

“I love you.” He mumbles against your lips.

“I love you too.” You murmur bringing him in for another kiss.

You’re veritably certain that you were right, all those moons ago, in your decision to entrust Peter Parker with everything.

Including your heart.

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blooming-violets · 1 year

Note

Heya Katie!!!!

How about bandaging/stitching up an injury? Pretty please?

[from this prompt list] [ask box link]

[tasm!peter parker x reader]

TWs: mentions of blood, stab wounds, cuts, and stitching

Doctor’s Orders

A loud bang against the fire escape jerked you from a sound sleep. Your heart pounded against your chest as you tried to quickly catch your breath, attempting to shake your lingering dreams from your mind so you could think more clearly. The heavy darkness of the night felt oppressive as it restricted your eyes from seeking what they wanted to see. You leaned over to switch on the lamp beside your bed. It gave off a soft, yellowed glow to help push away the darkness. Nothing seemed immediately out of the ordinary. Your ears strained to listen for any more outside disturbances. When you heard nothing, you swung your legs off the side of the bed and padded over to the window. Peaking back the curtains, you squinted through the blackened window until your eyes landed on a dark form curled up on the corner of the fire escape. It only took a minute for your sight to adjust before you realized who it was.

“Peter!” You gasped in horror.

You threw open the window, the cold winter air swirling around you and invading your warm bedroom, as you scrambled out to rescue him.

He lay motionless in his Spider-Man suit against the twisted, deformed metal railing. It looked as if he bent the metal with the force of his body smashing into it. You knelt down beside him, ignoring the cold clawing at your thin pajamas, and carefully lifted the torn up mask from his face. Angry, red splotches of blood dripped over his closed eyes and rolled down his cheek. A large gash ripped open his skin above his brow. Your eyes traveled down the rest of his body, taking note of his torn suit across his chest. When you placed your hand over his fluttering heart, you felt the stickiness of blood clinging to the fabric and seeping against your palm.

“Oh, Peter, what happened?” You whispered.

He responded with a muffled groan, trying to open his eyes and get up, but slumping back against the railing when his strength failed him.

“Okay, it’s okay, you’re safe. I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay,” you said, mostly to reassure the panic building inside your chest, rather than for him. “Let’s get you inside.”

He was conscious enough to sling his arm around your shoulder and help you struggle to get him onto his feet, but promptly stumbled into your side, his knees buckling under him as his chin slumped against his chest. His body went limp in your arms. He couldn’t handle being upright without passing out. That wasn’t a good sign.

You resorted to hooking your arms under his armpits as you dragged him backwards through the open window. With a heavy grunt, you barely managed to pull him across the floor and flop him onto your bed. You quickly ran back out onto the fire escape to grab the mask you had tossed aside and then slammed the window shut.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t an unusual occurrence. You knew the drill. You drew the curtains closed, turned on all your lights, washed your hands, then grabbed the bag of medical supplies from under your bed. Spider-Man dating a trauma nurse was probably the best decision he had ever made. Without your help, he would have been on his own tonight, and who knows what could have happened to him then. You slipped on a pair of medical gloves and pulled up a chair beside the bed.

“Alright, Spidey, let’s see how bad you are tonight.”

The suit was always a pain to remove, especially when he wasn’t in a state to help. The first time he showed up like this, you had opted to cut the suit from his body to get at his wounds. It’s what you would have done in a hospital setting and you didn’t think twice about it. He’d complained about that method for a week straight afterwards. He hated anytime he had to resew his suit, claiming it was a waste of time. Now, you tried to make the extra effort to peel the skin tight, bloody material from his body until his chest was exposed to you.

A large gash ran across his pecks in a nearly straight line. It looked too wide to be a knife wound. Maybe a machete or sword? Something big and sharp that took out a chunk of flesh but left clean lines. It was long and angry looking but only surface level, not deep enough to have punctured anything important. There was another oozing cut in his side. Smaller in length, about an inch wide, but much deeper. That resembled more of a pocket knife stabbing. You’d see a lot of those working as a trauma nurse in the city. This one was the most concerning as you couldn’t tell how deep it actually went and Peter wasn’t awake to give you more information.

The cut over his forehead was probably done with a knife as well. Though it was less of a stab and more of a slash. It was bleeding heavily but that was common for head wounds. There was bruising starting to form under his hairline which indicated that he had hit his head pretty hard too. That would explain him going in and out of consciousness. He most likely had a concussion. You gently ran your hand over the back of his scalp and was happy to feel his skull was intact with no noticeable bleeding or fractures. You would have preferred to bring him to a hospital for treatment but you knew him too well. Peter would refuse.

You grabbed a penlight and gently pulled up his eyelid, shining the light into his eye. The whites were bloodshot but his pupils shrunk away at the source of light like they were supposed to. Just as you leaned over to shine the light in his other eye, his arm reflexively shot up and his large hand gripped around your wrist. His eyes widened in fear, still on high alert, as he tried to sit up.

“No!” He gasped in panic. “Don’t touch me!”

You gently shoved his shoulder back down onto the bed to keep him place, “Calm down, Peter. It’s just me. You’re safe. You made it back to my place. No one else is here. It’s just us. You weren’t followed.”

He blinked a few times as he took in his familiar surroundings, breathing heavily, and then slowly nodded. He released the grip on your arm and slumped back into the mattress. You watched his entire body relax and his eyes closed.

“What time is it?” He croaked.

You grabbed your phone from the table and checked for him, “3:45. What were you doing out so late? You’re usually home by one at the latest. What happened out there?” You pulled a gauze pad out from your kit and held it over the bleeding above his eye. You took his hand and placed it on the pad to hold it in place. “Keep pressure on that while I take care of your side first.”

“A trap,” he sighed, pushing down on the cut. “It was a trap.”

As he spoke, you pulled out your disinfecting supplies and prepped the suture kit. You were most concerned for the stab wound in his side.

“How deep were you stabbed, Peter?” You interrupted him as you held another gauze pad to the bubbling of blood over the wound. “Did the entire knife go in? How long was it? I can’t tell until I get the bleeding under control.”

He closed his eyes to think, “Don’t think it was too bad. I jumped back. I’d say not even half an inch.”

You took a deep breath, nodding, “Good. Good, good. So, you walked into a trap?” You knew letting him talk was going to help take his mind off the pain that would soon follow. You didn’t have any way to numb him at your apartment. You started on disinfecting the area while he grimaced with a quick hissing noise.

“You know those traffickers I was going after?” He asked.

You nodded, focusing on the job at hand while he spoke.

“They knew I was onto them. Lured me into a building with this woman. She was tied up and screaming. I thought...I thought they were hurting her. I was so focused on freeing her that I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have,” he sighed. “Turns out she was working with them. There were so many men. I should have heard them all when they were hiding. I was being dumb. I wasn’t focused. I just wanted to help that lady. I didn’t think I was going to make it out alive.”

You hated when he told you things like that. It made your heart ache to think about him not returning home. You tightened your jaw, grabbing the suture kit, “Well, you’re here now. You’re not dead. You made it out. Next time you know to be more careful and not let your guard down. Don’t be a dumbass.”

He grumbled a wordless response, not enjoying being chastised but knowing he probably deserved it.

“This will hurt,” you stated. You started stitching the stab wound closed as he let out a cry. You felt better knowing that it wasn’t as deep as you first thought. He should be fine in a few days. “Like I said, don’t be dumbass and you won’t have to be stitched.”

He gave you a weary, apologetic smile, the kind that melted your heart every time you saw it and made you smile even when you felt like smacking him.

“What’s the prognosis, doc? Am I going to make it?” He joked. You could tell he was exhausted but still trying his hardest to make up for the fact that he showed up at your window at 3am covered in blood.

You gave in, it was hard not to, and smiled back, “You’ll live. Maybe. I still haven’t decided if I’m going to kill you for disturbing my sleep or not.”

He closed his eyes and grinned, “You’re the only one I’d let take me out. I wouldn’t even fight back.”

“Is that because you know you’d deserve it?”

“No, because I wouldn’t ever hurt you even if it cost me my own life.”

You finished off the last stitch and looked up at him, locking eyes. Even with a face full of drying blood and bruises he looked beautiful. You gave a soft sigh, “You’re a lot to handle, you know that, right?”

He beamed down at you and gave a chuckle, immediately wincing at the pain of his stomach moving, “I’ve been told that before.”

You gave the stab wound another clean and disinfected before carefully bandaging it up.

“One down!” You announced to the quiet room. “Let’s get that thick head of yours cleaned up next. Then we can work on whatever the hell tore up your chest.”

Peter glanced down at the red slice, “That would be a machete. It’s already stopped bleeding. By tomorrow morning, I’m sure it’ll be fine. You could probably just disinfect it and slap a bandage over it. I can sleep it off.”

He was most likely right. He healed at a ridiculously fast rate thanks to his freakish DNA. Peter Parker was the king of sleeping off wounds. You once watched him sleep off a bullet wound that went straight through his shoulder. By the morning, it was like he had never been shot at all. You wanted to study him in a lab to see what else he was capable of.

“Whatever you want. The head wound needs to be closed though. You’ve already got blood all over my bed and dripped a trail across my rug. Not to mention, you broke my fire escape, as well. My landlord is not going to be happy about that,” You reached for the liquid bandage instead of doing more stitches. It should hold the skin closed until his quick healing took over.

“Sure thing, doc. You’re the boss.” He removed his hand from holding the gauze. The bleeding had stopped which was a good sign. “And sorry ‘bout your railing. I’ll fix it. Somehow. I could learn to weld. Probably.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it.” You wiped up the drying blood from his brow, cleaned off the wound, and then sealed his skin together.

“Ah, that burns!” he complained.

“Hush,” you shushed him, finishing your work. “There! ”

Peter whined, “Are you done yet?”

“Let me clean up and bandage your macheted chest, wash up the rest of your gross, bloody skin, and then we can be done.”

You made quick work to clean him up and wrap up his chest. After washing away his blood until he was fresh and clean again, you made him stand up just long enough so you could change your bedsheets. You helped him lay back down and crawled into bed beside him, turning off your lights. By now, the sun was starting to rise. The golden light peeked through your curtains and streaked across your ceiling.

“You’re lucky I have the day off tomorrow,” you whispered, feeling your lack of sleep seep into your body now that everything was taken care of. You were happy that he was home safe and next to you again. The world felt a little safer with him by your side. “Pete?”

“Hmm?” He mumbled, already half asleep, himself. His hand clutched yours in a tight grasp. Usually, he would of had you wrapped up tightly in his arms but his injuries prevented him from allowing him to snuggle. Instead, he took what he could get in the form of hand holding. He brought your hand to his bruised lips and placed a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Promise me you’ll take the next two days off and rest,” you asked.

“I-”

You knew he was about to protest so you cut him off, “It’s not a request. It’s an order.”

He gave a sleepy smile, his eyes closed, and murmured, “Doctor’s orders. Promise.”

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pinkhoodi · 7 months

Text

pop princess !

✎ᝰ — spider boys with a gf who’s a popstar !

♡⃕ — tasm!peter parker, ffh!peter parker x popstar!fem!reader

♡⃕ — genre + warning: fluff + peter is a major fan girl, mention of anxiety, failure, insecurity. lemme know if i missed anything !

♡⃕ — a/n: this includes andrew garfield and tom holland’s spiderman !

꒰ TASM!PETER PARKER ꒱

Ꮺ at first peter was doubtful of dating a pop star, especially being a simple nobody in his high school. just a boy with his camera but now he’s in front of the camera. don’t get me wrong, peter is more than thrilled to be dating you but he’s dating you. thee famous y/n, everyone’s favorite pop girl, star girl that has little girls dreaming

Ꮺ but also the lights, camera, the attention can be quite overwhelming and he will take a minute to adjust from all this. though, you won't always ask him to attend every event and he doesn’t mind attending attending every event so there

Ꮺ cause of his lowkey nature, you try to keep the relationship discreet. you would rather not have your fans swarm at peter’s door or harass him constantly at school

Ꮺ out in the public, you two would wear some type of covering so paparazzi or fans cannot tell who you both are

Ꮺ he’s try very very very hard to be your supportive boyfriend and attend every concert, every showing, every fan meet, any and everything. but being spiderman, and a high school student, he won’t always be at your hip at all times. If he can’t, he’ll send you a text that he won’t be there and send words of encouragement

Ꮺ during his duties as spiderman, if he’s not too busy, he’ll swing through the city until he reaches the venue of your concert. he’ll take a seating on the roof of it and sing along to your words, it’s not the best view but hey, it beats missing your girlfriend’s concert

Ꮺ on the roof, peter snaps some pictures of your concert and prints them off at home. he’ll hang them up on the wall above his desk, along with the many other cute pictures of just you

Ꮺ strangely enough, when you two are out on the red carpets, reporters ask about your views on spiderman. some even ship you with the masked vigilante and you just laugh it off

Ꮺ when you’re not around, he’ll sing some of your songs but definitely won’t tell you. he knows how much of a tease you can be and jokingly calls him your number one fan. of course, that title he won’t deny

Ꮺ whenever you’re at peter’s home, you play a cd of your unreleased songs or demos. you two would just sit and listen to them in peace or he’ll learn the lyrics to sing along. you always give him a copy of the cd before you go home

Ꮺ of course peter has backstage pass to your concerts so he’s usually chilling there until the show starts. he’s there to compliment your outfits, help you go over your setlist, and of course take many pictures of his beautiful pop princess

Ꮺ when things get overwhelming, you go to his home and just rant. you lay on his bed and just talk until you can’t no more, while peter sits and listens to you rant, he’ll rub your back or the top of your head. he would study how your body fluctuates as you vent, for future reference. he would silence sit in for a while than talk you through what is bothering you. whether it would be the lack of privacy, the expectations from fans, fear of failure, insecurities, etc., peter will advise well on how to handle them all. well, at least most of them

Ꮺ if the both of you are not too busy, you would bring him to your studio and show him your song-making process. it’s a very special and private place for you and why not show your loving, supportive boyfriend ?

Ꮺ he would ask questions here and there but for the rest of the time being, he’s quiet. peter would watch you write the lyrics and create a melody, he would watch you scribble and scratch in your journal as he sat across from you

Ꮺ if you appear to become frustrated, he silently hug you and asks if you want a break. he would take you on a walk, and ask more about the song to help you piece it together. sometimes you guys would stop for food, talk more about the song, and figure out what direction you wanted to go for

Ꮺ though, you don’t always have the energy to talk about songs so you would rather chat about your daily life. peter would update you on aunt may and you would tell him about your latest crazy fan experience

Ꮺ if he doesn’t have any advice, he will tell you words of encouragement. he would tell you how proud he is, how far you came, that you’re in control of who you are and not the public. he would remind you of the real you, the raw, organic y/n that he knows and loves. but also reminds me of how happy you look to be on stage or shooting in magazines as the world’s pop princess

Ꮺ speaking of, every shoot that you do for magazines, best believe peter would have every collection. sometime he’ll try to read it in class and some people speculated that he was a fan girl cause there’s no way that every issue always includes you on the front. that’s odd parker, very odd

꒰ PETER PARKER ꒱

Ꮺ your biggest, BIGGEST fan. he’s got all your merch, your cds, you’re his wallpaper. literally he couldn’t be more proud to the boyfriend of everyone’s pop girl, y/n l/n

Ꮺ peter is singing your songs, loudly and bad, posting your new song on his socials, the whole nine yards. I wouldn’t say he’s staying up to listen to your new song but he does learn the lyrics to impress you

Ꮺ I would say your relationship is discreet but not too lowkey ?? like ned and mj knows about the two of you but also you post peter from time to time. If not, then you two would usually hint about the relationship but not give too much information

Ꮺ on red carpet events, peter is recording you from the first step ‘til you hit inside the venue. he’s complimenting and hyping you up, fixing any small details like a loose lash or a small wrinkle on your dress

Ꮺ as bad of a fangirl he is for you, he might be even worse for other celebrities he meets. listen, he is a teenage boy from queens, did he expect to meet gwen stefani or rihanna ? rihannna ? he’s passed out on the floor at this point. if you see one of his favorite musicians, drag him the other way….

Ꮺ now, not all the time he can attend due to his school and his duties as spiderman. but he is sending words of encouragement to fulfill his presence

Ꮺ peter would be starstruck every time he’s out with you. no he’s still not used to being in your dressing room filled with priceless jewelry, clothes that must cost hundreds, and accessories that are so unique and made just for you to wear. it’s like he’s stepped into a popstar’s bubble and very scared to touch

Ꮺ I feel like peter would refuse to believe he’s dating thee pop girl, y/n. like he knows he’s dating you but has he accepted it? let’s just say he still pinches himself every time you text him, ya know, to make sure he’s not dreaming

Ꮺ secretly peter has a playlist of just your songs and only your songs. he wouldn’t allow you to see since he would feel embarrassed but ned and mj are for sure teasing him about it

Ꮺ like the other peter, he would have every single issue of your magazine covers. he doesn’t care if they’re small articles of your latest look, he is reading it !

Ꮺ between class times, he would try to watch clips of your interview and blush over how cute you look. certain questions would have him a tad bit concerned but he knows you can handle it well

Ꮺ throughout the day, peter would ask if you’re doing okay, mentally and physically. he understands how draining it is to be well-known in the public eye, especially in the age of social media. If you say no, he’ll stop by your place and comfort you with what is bothering you. also, please don’t lie to him about how you’re feeling cause his spider senses will tell him

♡⃕ lately I’ve been listening to music from the 2000s and it makes me wish to be a pop girl in the 2000s saurrrrr bad. omg-

♡⃕ it doesn’t help that one of my fave shows was hannah montana. the pop princess FRRRR

♡⃕ ngl, tasm peter was VERYYYYY hannah montana coded. I’m sawry she’s like my pop girl inspo 😞

♡⃕ I felt like I kinda didn’t do my best with tom holland peter parker ngl 😭

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: romans 8:26

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the-kinnie-in-me · 1 year

Note

Okay, well then I hope you don’t mind me returning with yet another request. I can’t help it, I just really love your writing <3

I would love some headcanons for tasm Peter falling in love again for the first time since Gwen (god, just typing that made me tear up lmao)!

Take your time, have fun with it, and have a lovely day/night :)

A/n: This has been in my ask box for so long holy shit- I'm so sorry about that. I was on an intense writer's block and I think the fact that its Valentines' Day where I'm at kinda inspired me. This is not my best work since romantic writing isn't my cup of tea 😭 But I still hope you enjoy this-

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐌! 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐰𝐞𝐧:

⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎

(I’m basing this off before he met the other Peters btw)

Let's start with some pre-relationship stuff-

I don’t really see it as love at 1st sight

It might take some since yk- his ex died because he couldn’t save her

How much time it would take would depend on how persistent you are in befriending him 1st

There's definitely some remaining guilt and self-loathing so please be patient with him

He’s still a nice and friendly person so it isn’t that hard to befriend him

In other words- You’re gonna have to buckle up since you’re about to experience the slowest slow-burn friends-to-lovers in history (Tho the fluff post and pre-relationship make it worth it)

Now onto the relationship itself

Aunt May adores you

She saw how you make her nephew happy after what happened with Gwen and approved of you immediately

“I saw how that boy mourned Gwen. I raised him for most of his life and it was devastating for me to see him like that. Then he met you, it was like it never happened and he was as happy as he was before. And I can’t express how thankful I am to you.”

We all saw how much effort he put into his and Gwen’s relationship- He would do the 1000% same thing with you

This is a bit angsty but- It just doesn’t feel the same?? THO IT DOESN’T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH HOW MUCH HE LOVES YOU- When he was doing that stuff for Gwen he had a lot more self-esteem if you get what I mean?

HELP HIM GAIN HIS CONFIDENCE BACK

There have to be a lot of words of affirmation in this relationship homeboy needs it

After he gains his confidence it's mostly rainbows and sunshine

The reason why I say mostly? The topic of Spiderman.

I mean- He would tell you but he doesn’t want you to get involved

He is very much persistent about that

He will give you every reason to not get involved

There’s honestly no win in this situation

If you don’t get involved you worry about him daily

*Peter enters your bedroom through your window*

“The hell happened this time?”

“They um- got me pretty bad”

You rush to grab the First Aid kit

“Yeah. I can see that.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad.”

“Are you sure…Because your tone kinda says otherwise”

*Sighs* “I’m not mad. Just stressed and worried because of you.”

If you do get involved he worries about you daily

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!”

“SAVING YOUR ASS”

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be out doing Spiderman things?”

“Yeah about that- Whatever I was fighting got away and it seemed pretty pissed. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t gonna be petty and go after you”

I just realized the majority of this has been angst or about Gwen’s death in some way-

He doesn’t confront people when jealous

Poor boy just wants to leave with you beside him

He tries to hide it but it's kinda obvious

Tease him about it and see how long it takes for him to admit it I wanna test a theory

He is a total softy for you

Why can’t I find a bf like that on E-bay

A sane amount of PDA

Like hand-holding, falling asleep on him (albeit accidentally), and kissing on the cheek

He likes cuddling in private tho

Everything he does for and says to you just seems to be genuine-

A gentleman that was raised well fr

He will do so many things for you that it's concerning how fast he agrees,

“Hey Pete can you-”

“Of course”

This is entirely my opinion/ idea of him- I don’t see him calling you any pet names besides the occasional “babe”

BUT- the amount of love and emotion traced whenever he just simply says your name makes up for it completely

Before I end this I just want to make 1 thing clear-

You are NOT a rebound

He will do anything to prove that he never considered you a replacement for Gwen the moment he senses you feel that way

In his eyes, Gwen is his past

In his eyes, you are his present and future

In his eyes, you are his everything.

#welcometomyredtalks #the amazing spider man #tasm x reader #tasm x you #marvel hcs #marvel headcanons #marvel x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #tasm!peter x y/n #spiderman x y/n #spider man x reader #spiderman x reader #spider man #tasm!peter fluff #tasm spiderman

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oracleofapollon · 2 years

Text

hey babe, let’s go out tonight

tasm!peter parker x reader

summary: while having lunch with peter parker you pine for him so much it hurts.

warnings: fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers, reader has hair long enough to put behind their ear

wc: 1.5k

It’s a sunny day, you forgot your sunglasses and now are cursing at yourself, because the sun shines damn brightly. And because of this you almost don’t notice the boy approaching the bench you’re lounging on.

“Hi there, sunshine,” says Peter teasingly as he drops his backpack next to your feet. You pull your earbuds out and pretend you didn’t catch the stupid nickname he gave you.

Stupid, stupid, stupidly cute nickname.

That was the whole thing with Peter Parker. You were unable to define what you two had going on, which was terrifyingly exciting. Technically you were friends—best friends, even. Inseparable, two halves of the whole, unstoppable and forever. At least it felt like it. You always appreciated those moments with him; walks in the park, getting milkshakes, seeing cheap and bad movies at your local theater, or like now, having lunch together everyday at 12 between your classes. But sometimes his eyes would linger on yours for too long, and the honey of his eyes would envelop you, and his hair would look so soft, and his lips so pink, and the little beauty mark on his cheek so worthy of your love, and those tranquil moments would become too intimate for you. Everytime you scold yourself for feeling the warmth dripping from your heart and flooding your body.

He doesn’t feel that way. You shouldn’t feel that way.

“Hi,” you smile, finally able to open your eyes fully thanks to the shadow he’s casting while towering over you. “You’re late.”

“By a minute,” he rolls his eyes and, oh god, oh god, no, he takes his hoodie off in that stupid way that he does, his t-shirt riding up and leaving his abdomen naked right in front of you.

You immediately look down to find your bag and take out a sandwich and an apple you packed for lunch. Totally not thinking about the trail of dark hair leading from his navel downwards, disappearing into his old, kinda ripped jeans (he refuses to admit they’re old; he claims ripped jeans are fashionable now and he bought them like this).

After a second you feel the sun shining on you again and hear Peter flopping down next to you. His knee is touching yours and you hate how much you love this feeling.

“What were you listening to?” he looks at you with a smirk and those puppy eyes and, before you can answer, reaches over your thighs to check one of your earbuds. You hope he didn’t notice the goosebumps you got when his hand touched your lap. “David Bowie?” smiling he hands you the other earbud. You put it in and hear Rebel Rebel blasting with the volume almost maxed out.

You smile at the familiar beat and close your eyes, mouthing the lyrics and bobbing your head.

He doesn’t stop looking at you, though. You feel his gaze on your nose, lips, chin, lips again.

But it might all be just my imagination. Human mind plays tricks on us, especially when we want something very much, right? Didn’t Freud say something about one’s deepest wants appearing in their–

Stop. Why the hell are you thinking about Freud right now? Ew.

And my deepest want is not Peter Parker staring at me. Literally stop.

“I remember seeing him on TV when I was a kid,” says Peter in the softest, smallest voice you have ever heard leaving him. It’s not quite a whisper, but it’s spoken like a secret. You open your eyes and see him looking at you, but his gaze is not present. He’s very, very far away.

“Yeah?” you prompt sitting up straighter and pull out the earbud to show you’re listening.

“Yeah,” he replies, zoned out, blinking rapidly when his eyes start drying out. “The reporter was being pushy. She was asking him about being gay.”

“Oh.” You scoot even closer to him, pressing your side into his, making him turn his head and come back to earth.

“He replied with so much confidence. ‘Bout being bisexual. I didn’t know what he was talking about then. But years later it made me feel seen, understood,” you take his hand in yours, squeezing comfortingly. “Made me accept I like boys and girls the same way. Helped me.” he squeezes back, staring at his converse. He’s so deep in thought, small, unsure of himself. You want him to feel loved so badly. You didn’t want to overwhelm him, though.

“Thank you for telling me, Pete,” you rub his back and he sends you the sweetest smile. You smile back and feel a rush of emotions, this warmth, the need to be close to him. And it’s so hard to contain that it all spills out. “I love you,” you say, maybe recklessly, maybe without thinking. But you really do love him. You weren’t sure what kind of love it was, but it was love, nonetheless.

There goes your not-overwhelming him.

“I know,” his brown eyes hold so much care. What did he know? That you loved him as a friend? Or that you felt more? Did he know you can’t focus around him? That he sometimes appears in your dreams with his lips soft, sweet and warm against yours?

He puts a strand of hair behind your ear. “I love you too.”

His gaze falls on your lips and back on your eyes quickly. If you only blinked, you’d missed it.

Then his stomach grumbles.

“Aw, man,” disappointment colors his voice and you don’t know what he means by that. He straightens out, changes his voice from quiet and intimate to louder and casual. You kinda hate it. Then you hate yourself for hating it and for being greedy. “Shall we eat, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. You might cry or go crazy if you don’t figure out what he means. Is it sweetheart or sweetheart?

You’re unpacking your sandwich when he nudges your arm.

“Actually,” he laughs a bit awkwardly, “May made us some cookies.” He pulls out two paper bags and hands one to you. You freeze for a second, not understanding what was happening. “I hope you like them,” his voice is higher, he speaks quicker, a bit anxiously, “they’re not really sweet, y’know? ‘Cause May wants to cut down on sugar. So it’s only oats, nuts and, um, blueberries… I think? So… so if you don’t like them it’s obviously fine. It’s… cool.”

You take the bag from him, a bit stunned. That was probably the most adorable thing anyone has ever done for you.

You take a bite of the cookie. It sure isn’t as sweet as brownies with sugar powder and vanilla ice cream on top, but it’s just sweet enough. A bit crunchy, a bit sour from the fruit, but oh so warm, because someone made them with you in mind.

You swallow your bite and smile at Peter, all teeth. He relaxes when he sees you like it and then tenses again when he feels your lips pecking his cheek. And when you pull back, his face is all pretty and pink.

God, he’s beautiful. Sun in his eyes, hair, skin. You truly cannot comprehend it when he says no one was ever interested in him. The first time you saw him, all focused, brows furrowed, with his sleeves rolled up and hands working on something in the lab you were passing by, you got weak in the knees. Not that you would ever admit it.

“They’re delicious, Pete. Wonderful. Amazing. Incredible. So, so tasty. And just sweet enough,” now you’re rambling, but you just need to express your gratefulness and affection. “And I can’t even put into words how thankful I am for them. Thank you so, so much. And please thank May. Give her hugs and kisses from me,” you beam, munching the cookie, putting your head on his shoulder.

Peter is quiet for a second. He puts his head on top of yours, biting into his own cookie. After it’s gone, he turns his face into your hair. “Well, if I’m supposed to give them to her from you, you should give them to me first. Y’know, so I can pass them on.”

It takes you a while. A second, two seconds. Then you understand he means hugs and kisses and your heart beats so rapidly you think you might be having a cardiac arrest. Hell, maybe you are. Maybe it’s the sun?

But all doubt is gone when he kisses the crown of your head. He means it. He means it all. He means the cookies and the sunshine and sweetheart, not just sweetheart. And so you grin like an idiot, because you feel like one. You melt against him, then take your head off of his shoulder, then put your arms around him and hug him tightly.

“You’re smooth, Parker,” you whisper into his ear before pulling back and cupping his cheeks while looking into his loving gaze.

“C’mere and find out,” he murmurs and kisses you gently, enveloping you in his arms, his warmth, his sweetness.

♡

this is my first time writing a fanfic, i’ll get better at it <3 thank you so much for reading, let me know if you see any mistakes!!

#peter parker #tasm peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm peter x you #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm! peter parker fluff #tasm x reader #tasm x you

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bxcketbarnes · 2 years

Text

Join Me...

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 1500+

I have looked at this gif maybe over a hundred times. And every time I’m looking somewhere different. This beautiful man. What it would be like to shower with him. Which is what I got here ;) I hope you guys enjoy this! And as always, let me know what you think!! xox

The door to your apartment opens up and you glance over your shoulder to see Peter walking inside. "Hey, handsome," you greet him from your spot on the couch.

He tosses his keys onto the table while toeing his shoes off. "Hey, honey," Peter mumbles while walking towards you.

"Are you okay?" You ask him with a pout, leaning your head against the back of the couch.

Peter nods his head and lays his hands on your shoulders. He softly massages you while leaning forward to kiss your forehead. "Just a long day," he sighs against your skin.

One of your hands rests on top of his, your thumb stroking the back of his hand. "Can I do anything?" You question with a soft smile.

He shrugs his shoulders and walks around the couch, sitting down beside you. Peter lays his head onto your lap and a frown comes to your lips. You comb your fingers through his hair, keeping your eyes on him as he watches the show playing on TV.

"Jus' wanna be with you," he mumbles while fiddling with the fabric of your leggings.

Your heart flutters in your chest as Peter places light kisses on your thighs. "I've got nothing planned tonight so I'm all yours," you tell him, pushing his hair back a bit.

He shifts his body so he's laying on his back, his head turning to look up at you. "I love you so much," Peter whispers loud enough for you to hear.

A smile graces your lips and your thumbs stroke his cheeks. "I love you too, Peter. With all of my heart," you proclaim before leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

He turns his body towards you and nuzzles his face into your abdomen. You giggle softly as he wraps his long arms around your waist. "Would you marry me?" He mumbles against your stomach.

Your breath hitches in your throat and you try to lean back to see his face. "What?" You ask him, wondering if you heard him correctly.

Peter removes his face from your stomach and smiles nervously at you. "I-I asked if you would ever marry me?" He repeats himself, causing your heart to beat a million miles per minute.

You gulp and nod your head. "Y-Yeah, I would," you whisper out. "You don't plan to ask me right now, do you?"

He shakes his head and you let out a sigh of relief. Peter sits up and rests his head on your shoulder. "We just moved in together. Let's take one big step at a time," he jokes with you.

"I agree," you giggle. "But, when the time comes, I'd be glad to marry you."

Peter hooks his fingers under your chin, lifting your face slightly before kissing you softly. You deepen the kiss instantly, bringing your hands to his face. His hands find their way to your hips and he pulls you onto his lap.

Your forehead rests against his as his tongue darts past your lips. A moan slips from your lips and the kiss gets heated. You breathe heavily when you pull away from him and you keep your eyes shut.

"You are the best thing that's happened in my life," Peter confesses to you, his hands slipping under the shirt you're wearing.

Tears pool along your waterline and you flutter your eyes open. "You're going to make me cry," you mumble softly, bringing a hand to your face.

Peter hugs you to his chest and mumbles a string of apologies. "I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to make you cry," he mentions as you tug on the ends of his hair. "They're happy tears, yeah?"

You release a chuckle and nod your head, sniffling a bit. "Yes, of course. You make me so happy," you mutter before planting a quick kiss on his lips.

"I gotta take a shower," Peter says with a light sigh. He taps your hips a couple of times, motioning for you to slide off of him. You slide back into your seat as Peter pushes himself off the couch. "You can join me if you want."

Your cheeks blush and you shake your head, giving him a shy smile. "I'm good, baby. You go ahead," you tell him while rubbing the back of your neck.

He smiles softly at you and nods his head. Peter disappears into your shared room and you tilt your head back. Why do you have to be like that? You ask yourself before grabbing your phone off of the coffee table.

You dial your friend's number after hearing the shower turn on. You sandwich the device between your shoulder and ear, listening to the rings.

"Hey, darling," your best friend, Hayley, greets you and you immediately groan. "What happened?"

"Peter asked me if I wanted to shower with him," you say into the phone, keeping your eyes on the open bedroom door. "Well, he didn't ask but he said that I could join him if I wanted."

A noise comes through the receiver and you furrow your brows, pulling the phone back a bit. "And you said no?!"

"I-I've never showered with him before! He's never actually seen me naked before," you panic slightly.

"How is that possible? You two have sex, and you both live together now," Hayley mentions and you can hear the confusion in her voice.

"Yeah, but we have sex with the lights off and I wake up before him," you explain to her. "I don't want him to think I don't want to be intimate, I'm just… nervous about it."

Hayley lets out a sigh as you fumble with the hem of your shirt. "Babe, that man is so infatuated with you. I think you should try it! Face your fears! It's only Peter," she does her best to reassure you.

You nod your head and stand up from the couch. "I got this. I'm gonna go in there and surprise him," you hype yourself up.

"Yes, girl! Let me know the details," Hayley giggles and you roll your eyes playfully.

"I will. I'll see you tomorrow," you mention before the two of you bid each other goodbye.

You walk into your bedroom and toss your phone onto your mattress. You release a deep breath before undressing, tossing the dirty clothes into the hamper. You walk towards the bathroom, the sound of the shower getting louder.

It's just Peter. You remind yourself while trailing your fingertips along your hips. You walk into the bathroom before slowly opening the door to the shower.

Your heart pounds against your chest when your eyes meet his. Peter smiles down at you before his gaze trails down your body. "Hi, honey," he greets you while stepping to the side, allowing you to step in.

"H-Hey," you stutter nervously and step into the shower. The warm water sprays your back as Peter's hands rest on your hips.

"You changed your mind, I see," he chuckles and kisses your forehead. You hum and nod your head, avoiding Peter's gaze. He hooks a finger under your jaw before lifting your head. "Honey, you don't need to be nervous. If you aren't comfortable staying here with me, you can leave. Don't let me pressure you into doing something you're not ready for."

You swallow the lump in your throat as tears come to your eyes. Peter's fingers gently stroke your cheekbone and you lean into his touch. "I love you so much, Pete," you sigh while hugging him.

He kisses the top of your head, gliding his hands up and down your back. "I love you, honey," he mumbles into your wet hair.

Your heart flutters in your chest and you tilt your head up, looking into his honey-brown eyes. Peter smiles fondly at you, moving one of his hands back to your face. You lean on your toes carefully and press your lips against his.

He moans into the kiss and cups one of your cheeks. Peter's tongue glides across your lower lip, begging for entrance. A gasp escapes your lips when his free hand squeezes your ass cheek, surprising you.

His tongue slips into your mouth, deepening the kiss while carefully turning your body. The coolness of the shower wall connects with your back, causing your breath to hitch.

Peter's hands move to your chest and he abruptly pulls back. Both of you breathe heavily as he wets his lips. "Can I touch you here?" He asks in a whisper, feeling his thumbs toying with your nipples.

"P-Please," you stutter as your eyes flutter shut. Peter kisses your bare shoulder before he gently pinches your nipples. You let out a breathy moan, leaning your head against the wall. "Fuck, Peter."

He grins against your skin and bites down gently, earning another moan from you. "So responsive," he smirks while trailing his lips towards the middle of your chest. "I know I started this, but having sex in the shower is extremely dangerous."

You couldn't help but laugh at his statement and you open your eyes to look at him. "Should've thought that before playing with my nipples," you joke with him, your cheeks blushing as his strokes on your breasts continue.

"Can't help it, honey. You're just… I can never get enough of you," he nuzzles his face into your neck, his hands moving to rest on your lower back.

Your fingers comb through his wet hair and place a kiss on his shoulder. "Well, we should probably wash up and then we can continue this in the bedroom."

Taglist: @jeanettexkillian @undf-stuff @softyutae @theonlymaddie @queenofshinigamis @stewielover95 @foreverrogers @writing-for-marvel @softtdaisy @xoxoloverb @onlyfreds @corneliastreetinstyle @avenjames-anderson @marvelouswinchester @0-0-sunflower-0-0 @sincericida @leleea @jessalyn-jpeg @paw-sneeze @apeainapot @thewxntersoldier @reddesert-healourblues

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spiderfunkz · 3 months

Text

✦ CITY OF STARS.

summary : peter swings you to a perfect late-night date.

word count : 0,6k

warnings : tooth rotting fluff, implied fem!reader, pet names, kisses.

a/n : inspired by this deleted scene!! requests for peter are open if u want to send in ur ideas / prompts ^_^ also kind of inspired by that one scene in atsv where gwen & miles hangout by that tower yk

"let's get out of here." peter whispers, his voice tickles your skin again as he places another kiss on your nose.

you sigh, cupping his cheek, "i can't peter, i told you." you repeat — which not surprisingly causes peter to pout. "why not?"

"because. i have.. homework." you shrug. it's true though, the pile of papers near your desk is practically calling you to be read or marked.

he pouts, again. but he isn't giving up.

"don't look at me like that." you chuckle, your thumb caressing peter's cheek, running through his freckles.

"like what?"

"with your big brown doe eyes."

peter tries a bit more. the more you make eye contact with him, the harder it is to say no.

"fine. but you seriously have to get blue contacts, peter." you let go of his cheek.

"yes, ma'am." he nods. you couldn't tell if he's joking or not, but it's funny either way.

he gets up and grabs his backpack, it seems heavier than usual. "grab your jacket, bub. it's gonna be cold."

"where are you taking me?"

"secret."

"that doesn't sound creepy at all."

"come on. trust me." peter's waiting near the window. "are you gonna take me on a swing?"

peter puts his beanie on. "does the hat give it away?" he asks, the spiderman crochet beanie in bright red staring right at you.

you smile. "yeah it kinda does."

peter tucks the loose hair behind your ear before helping you out the window, and before you know it you're one with the wind. and also with new york's pollution.

peter's gentle, one hand holding your waist and the other thwip! -ing away at buildings. your hands are wrapped around his neck, face burried in the crook of it. you could smell his cologne, it's the one you like.

you relax at the scent of it. it almost makes you forget that you're meters up in the air.

but then your shoes touch ground.

it was a ledge of a clock tower. it's not steep, it's actually very spacey up here. if you think about it you could probably fit a picnic up here, a small hangout even with a few friends.

"you good?" peter lets go, "yeah. this is cozy." you say, fixing your sweater. "don't you think people will see us here?" you ask.

"no. but. if they do-" peter opens his bag, "i got back up." he reveals a beanie, like the one he's wearing, it's a spiderman one too but with different colours.

it's white with pink outlines.

"we're matching!" peter puts the beanie on you. it fits perfectly, "that's so cute peter. do i get to keep it?" — "of course. made it just for you. besides i don't think people can spot us here unless they really, really, really squint. and now when they do, they'll just see our hats."

you nod. peter gestures for you to sit.

"i got more stuff." he smiles, teeth showing, teasingly.

you roll your eyes at him before sitting next to the empty space beside him.

he pulls out two takeout boxes, followed by the plastic eating utensils, and some water, and some more.

"oh. wow." you say, impressed.

you weren't kidding. you could fit a picnic here.

"what're you waiting for? dig in!" peter passes your takeout. "i got your favorite too."

"aw. thank you, peter." you give him a kiss. "i'll get you ice cream after this. or whenever you feel like ice cream." you give him another kiss.

"thank you!" he gasps, dramatically. "that is everything i have ever wanted." peter replies.

you smile, "this is everything i have ever wanted."

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 2 years

Text

SEX, DRUGS, ETC- P.B PARKER

Pairing: Frat! Best Friend! Peter x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1.6 k

Summary: drunken confessions lead to your best friend between your legs, and you weren't complaining. not one bit.

Warnings: SMUT, choking, praise kink. hair pulling, daddy kink, manhandling, booze (drunk sex), blowjob implied, drugs mentioned, masturbation mentioned, marking, swearing, frat!peter being cocky bc... cmon now

Notes: “out the dark, and into the light.. half love, half regret, just enough for polaroids and cigarettes”- sex, drugs, etc (beach weather)

“We shouldn't be doing this.” you slurred, leaning against the white plastered walls that seemed to tilt and move the more you leaned into them.

The door to Peter and your apartment was only a few steps away, yet it felt like you had traveled up Mount Everest and back from the way your cheeks were flushed, breathing heavily as you stumbled.

The booze from earlier that night was coursing through your veins, the thudding of the loud music from the frat house still seeming to shake the floors.

“You saying that is exactly why we should do this.” Peter snorted, crouching down to wrap your arm around his shoulder, stumbling with you to the door. His cap was slung backward across your head, his hoodie massive on your smaller frame, now coated with the smell of weed.

“I wanna fuck you. Wanna fuck you s’damn bad Petey it hurts. You- you even know how long I wanted to fuck ya?” you hiccuped, your last symbols turning into a country twang, making Peter burst out with laughter as he fumbled for the keys in his pocket, dropping them on the carpet below.

“Imma get them, you clumsy goose.” you poked his arm, the world spinning as you bent over, your face near meeting the floor below as Peter caught you before you could give it a greeting smooch.

“I’m the clumsy goose?” he snorted, watching as you struggled to grab them, near missing the keyhole as you stabbed the air.

You wouldn't be this way if it weren't for him. Yes, you would be drunk. It was a party for christ's sake, and what was a party without a little giggle juice?

But not this drunk.

Peter and his friends had teased you about being a lightweight for years now, and tonight you finally decided to take on the challenge to drink as much as them. They were 6’4 men, 250 pounds of pure muscle at least.

You- you were not 6′4.

Seeming to forget this, you somehow ended up dancing on the beer pong table, a random person's bra in your hand as you twirled around, falling on your ass. Peter had decided it was enough after that, dragging your ass here.

Here, as in, stumbling through your front door- near placing a hole in the wall as it swung open from your mighty push. A grand entrance, if you so please.

“You know what I bet?” he asked, managing to shut and lock the door behind you as you struggled to take off your shoe and socks. “Whatta bet Petey boy?” you giggled, the faint taste of vodka cranberries making you hiccup as you leaned against the wall.

“I bet I wanna fuck you more than you wanna fuck me. Bet ya I’ve wanted to fuck you for longer, too.”

You laughed, grabbing his leather jacket, pulling him in close enough to feel his warm breath on your cheeks. “I bet no. But we can’t fuck. It breaks like…every rule in the best friend handbook.” you insisted, head drooping forward to lean against his chest, the world growing blurry again.

“I ripped that handbook up months ago bunny.” he stated, making your eyes widen.

As if there was a physical handbook, one the two of you had invented.

“You ripped it?!” you gasped, fighting a moan from escaping your lips as his hand came up and snaked around your neck, yanking it back for you to look back up at his eyes. “Yup. Ripped it all up. So now, we don't have to follow it. We follow my rules.” he droned, smirking as he noticed your breath coming in shallow pants, skin becoming hotter to the touch.

You wanted to kiss him. More than anything you wanted to kiss him.

With the booze, or without. The booze was just courage, a fire running through your body, hot enough to burn. You blamed the booze deep down for what you were about to do, what game you were about to play, but you knew deep down it wasn't the shots that had you leaning in closer to him.

“Yeah? And what are those rules?” you teased, leaning up on your tiptoes to whisper against his lips, watching as his pupils widened as you neared. “Hmm?” you drawled, knowing you had the upper hand.

Until you didn't.

The air was stolen- robbed from your lips as he smashed his to yours, all teeth and tongue as he pressed you by your neck against the wall.

Choking you.

You moaned, more turned on than you thought was possible as his other hand slipped down to wrap around your thigh, hiking it up around his waist as he tugged at your lower lip with his teeth, near hard enough to draw blood.

“Mghm god Peter-” you moaned, exposing your neck, baring yourself to him as he made his way down your jaw, peppering little bits and marks across the bare skin.

“Not so cocky now hmm bunny are ya? Don't worry, I know excatlyyy what you like.”

You could only whine at his words, the dirty talk making you wet enough to drip down your thighs. “You know what I noticed? That every time you bring one of those trashy boys over, it's only him making noise. Never you. Whys that bunny?”

“Doesn't feel good enough.” you admitted, sighing in delight as allowed the need to take over you, every thought in your brain as you rocked your hips against him slowly.

“Awh poor bunny. Just need someone to make ya cum, isn't that right? Someone who can take care of you properly, just like you deserve. I know you like it rough.” he grinned, tugging on your hair hard enough to make you whimper. “Y-yes daddy please.”

Oh. So that slipped out.

The words were out before you could catch them, exposed to the man towering over you. He just smiled, an eyebrow cocked as he took you in. “And she has a daddy kink? How’d I get this lucky sweetheart?” he teased, making you gasp as he picked you up fully, stumbling over to your bedroom in the dim light you had left on before the party, knowing something would happen.

Surely not this. This, now this was only in your wildest dreams.

You fought the urge to pinch yourself as Peter set you down on the bed gently, as if he weren't just manhandling you two seconds prior. “Off. Now, daddy- off.” you growled, tugging at his shirt, your eagerness making him laugh as he slid it over his head, throwing it to the floor.

“Your turn bunny. Or do you need daddy to do everything for you?” he cooed, grabbing your ankles to tug you closer to him, pulling off your pants in one smooth, fluid motion. “Everything for me. You gotta d-do everythinggg.” you hiccuped, smiling as he ripped off the rest of your clothes, the cool air helping soothe the ache in your core.

“Needy, needy baby.” he teased, grabbing your hips firmly and flipping you over, your soaking cunt fully exposed to him. “I’m always needy for you, always touching myself to the thought of you-”

Your words were cut off with a growl, his hand pressing your head family down into the sheets to muffle your sounds. “You keep talkin like that I’ll fuck you so hard you can't walk bunny. But you want that, don't you?”

You attempted to nod in the ruffled sheets to the best of your ability, at a loss for words as he laughed at your struggle. “You’re too cute bunny.” was the only warning you received before he entered you in one smooth stroke, filling you to the brim as you stretched around him.

“FUCK PETER-” you screamed, the feelings of pleasure overwhelming your senses as he brushed your g-spot, the fullness making your bones turn to mush as he rocked into you. “God fuck you feel so god damn good bun-” he moaned, hips snapping roughly as he picked up a pace hard enough to send stars soaring across your vision.

It was your own form of high, the way he was fucking you. So deep and rough, you thought you'd simply combust at any second. He was truly fucking you.

It was nothing like you had experienced, from another man or woman. It was possessive, and dominant. Primal.

“Good girl bunny. Such a good girl.” he groaned, the way your soft walls clenched around him at the praise making him stutter his pace. “Mghwannafuck-” you moaned into the silk, unable to contain it anymore.

Your release licked down your spine, curling in your stomach like the booze had, making you warm and fuzzy as you came around his cock with a scream.

“Y/N I’m gonna- Jesus I can't-” he babbled, head going fuzzy at the sight of your cram coating the base of his cock.

“Let go daddy I’mma lick the cum off your cock.” you giggled, toes curling as he moaned from your words, drunken gaze watching your cured fists tightly ball the sheets. As if you were desperately trying to hold on to something- anything from spiralling down, down, down.

The mixture of alcohol and sex was strong in your nostrils as you breathed in the sheets, whimpering as his pace faltered. Peter came in you with a cry, the warm, stickiness of his cream stuffing you to the brim. “Oh bunny you were so amazing, my beautiful angel, so so good for me.” he praised, cooing down at your limp body as you groaned, legs weak as you tried to stop the shaky feeling. “P-peter?”

“Yes bunny?”

You clutched the sheets tighter, feeling the booze rush to your head.

“I think m’gonna puke now/”

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asideinitially · 1 year

Text

Jealously

AN: hello, wow I’ve finally made a fanfic. It’s been a while… I’m also doing different fanfics to such as Steve Harrington, witcher, starwars and others I don’t want be just tied down to Spider-Man stuff.

And I want say thank you to @xthescarletbitch for helping me with this fanfic. ♡

Summary; you have crush one and only Peter Parker; turns out he had eye for another.

You left your black limo and felt your older brother’s eyes on you. He watched as your father, Norman Osborn, fixed your coat. “There are high expectations, Y/N,” he said as he straightened out your fabrics. “You are an Osborn.”

You scoffed internally as if you weren’t fully aware of the fact. “Always father,” you muttered and waved to your brother, Harry, who waited by the school entrance. “Always.”

You walked towards the entrance and began to fiddle with your school bag. “Good morning, brother,” you said with a small smile. “I’m surprised to see you at school for once.”

Harry rolled his eyes and gave a lazy smirk in response. “Dad was bugging me about my grades and college,” he shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint the Osborns,” He glanced around the campus quickly. His eyes landed on Peter Parker, who was seemingly enamored of Gwen Stacy as they conversed.

You also felt yourself staring at the sight and just disassociated. “Y/N,” Harry said with a serious tone and turned to you quickly. “Uh, let’s get to class,” You raised your eyebrows in concern and squinted your eyes. Harry never liked school, so why the sudden change of heart to go straight to class? He always skipped the first period or never went to any class.

“I don’t know why you’re acting odd, but it’s my free period,” You stated, fixing your school bag.

Harry was running out of distractions as Gwen and Peter grew closer. When your attention was turned to the two again, you felt your heart drop. You didn’t realize that something was going on between the two of them.

“They’re together?” you asked in defeat, followed by a sigh. Harry shrugged and shook his head. “Y/N, believe me, I didn’t know.”

You didn’t want to listen to your brother’s words, so you rushed into the crowds of people in the school halls. Harry groaned loudly, kicking the door to the school entrance. He felt conflicted about whether to approach the problem and solve it or to go for a smoke and relax. He chose the latter and caught Peter’s eye as he walked towards the smoking area, lost in thought.

“Hey Harry, are you okay?” Peter asked him worriedly and watched as his best friend sat on the floor, puffing the toxins into his lungs.

“I wish I could say I was good,” Harry stated, closing his eyes. He leaned his head back on the solid wall. Peter grew concerned and sat down next to his friend. Harry ran his fingers through his hair and let the smoke puff out of his mouth.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Peter asked, holding his legs. Harry bit his lip and looked at his ruined converse shoes.

“Sure,” Harry sighed and let the smoke drop onto the floor. “I have a friend who likes my other friend, but they are taken. My friend likes them so much, but the other friend can’t see it.”

Peter listened gently and began to think of an answer. “Maybe you should tell the person who has this crush to open up to the person and see how it goes.”

Harry blinked a couple of times and looked at Peter, who was now staring at the clouds passing by. “Yeah, maybe,” Harry said, flicking the smoke out of his hands and pushing up. “Thanks, Parker,” Harry said, leaving Peter in the empty smoking area.

*Late that night at the Osborn house*

You were listening to “Mary on a Cross” as you typed away on your laptop, writing an essay. There was a gentle knock on your door. You answered it and found Harry with a sandwich and a drink.

“Hey, little sis,” Harry said, coming in and placing the plate on your bedside table. He proceeded to sit on the bed.

“Oh. Hey Harry,” you uttered, closing the laptop lid and looking at your nails.

“I know this is kind of a dick move,” Harry began, rubbing the back of his head. You raised your head to meet his eye and stared at him. “Peter is coming over.. to study with me.” He said it with such quickness that you could hardly process the words.

“YOU WHAT?” you shouted, nearly kicking your expensive laptop onto the floor. Harry watched as you darted to your wardrobe, throwing clothes everywhere. He sighed as he shook his head and watched you panic around the room. “Mary on a Cross” was still blasting from the speakers. You threw on the cutest outfit you recently bought and began to fix your makeup.

“Girls are so odd,” Harry said, leaving you at the panic station. You looked in the mirror and bit your lip, remembering what you saw this morning. Why were you dolling up for a taken man? Sighing, you flopped back onto the bed and closed your eyes as the music played.

-one hour later-

Peter came on time and sat with Harry, eating pizza and laughing about something that happened in their science class. You sat by your bedroom door, peaking at them, too scared to move from the spot. Harry saw your glance and decided to ask Peter about Gwen.

“So you and Gwen Stacy, huh?” Harry asked, taking another cheesy slice of pizza from the box.

“Gwen?” Peter asked, confused by the question, and leaned back, looking at Harry.

“Aren’t you two together?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows and taking a bite from the pizza.

Peter laughed loudly and shook his head. “Gwen and I? No chance, dude. She wanted someone to tutor her with math.” You felt your heart leap and began to dance oddly around your room, praying they couldn’t see or hear you. You grew aware of what you had on, a t-shirt and shorts because you found no point in looking sexy when the man you desired was taken.

“We were searching for reasons

To play by the rules

But we quickly found

It was just for fools.”

You sang the words and rocked out to the music you were blasting. You almost didn’t notice Harry and Peter glancing at your room door. It wasn’t until you did an air guitar movement and fell backward out of your room that you realized this. Peter had a clear view of you, and your cheek crept to a deep shade of red as Harry couldn’t hold back his laughter. Harry kept laughing as Peter slowly helped you up.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Peter asked, concerned, and gave you a small smile.

“Uh, um. Yes, I’m okay,” you said in a stutter, staring into his brown eyes. Peter gave you a warm smile and kept staring into your eyes.

“Good song choice, by the way,” Peter said, still helping you to regain your balance.

“You like this song, too?” you asked with a small smile and bit your lip. Peter nodded and smiled before sitting back down next to Harry. Harry looked at Peter and then at you and rolled his eyes.

“Y/N has a crush on you, Peter,” Harry said, tired of the antics.

“HARRY!” you snapped, going bright red. You were too stunned to move.

“What? It’s true, and I’m tired of hiding your secret from Parker.” Harry said, crossing his arms. He began to leave the room before turning back to you both. “Oh, and Peter likes you back.”

Your eyes widened as you stared at Peter, who was as red as you were. “You like me?” you asked, stunned, staring at Peter.

“Um, yes. I thought you wouldn’t date a guy like me. So…” Peter said, rubbing his neck and looking away.

You inched closer to Peter and grabbed his collar, kissing him slowly. Peter closed his eyes and kissed you back, one of his hands gripping your waist slightly and the other tangled in your hair. You’ve never felt so happy as when you and Peter kissed. You’ve waited so long to taste his lips, and when it was terrific.

I hope you all enjoyed; thank you again to @xthescarletbitch for helping me and more coming in future ✨💕

#andrew garfield #reader x peter parker #tasm!peter imagine #amazing spiderman #peter parker x reader andrew #tasm!peter fluff #spiderman x y/n #tasm andrew garfield #tasm!peter x reader #tasm x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm peter x you #tasm x you #imagines #tasm!peter x you #peter parker x y/n

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mrshipsmcgee · 1 year

Text

*****a drunk blurb 4 u*****

You and your best friend, Peter had decided to attend Phi Alpha Sigma’s Spring Mixer out of boredom. The two of you were right on theme for the ‘Iconic Couples’ party, dressing up as Westley and Princess Buttercup from The Princess Bride. Peter was in a black thrasher shirt, black skinny jeans with his head covered and wrapped with a black mask, sporting a ridiculous, last minute, black eye liner mustache you had drawn above his upper lip, and you were wearing a floor length, red long-sleeved dress.

“We clean up nice,” Peter said as the two of you stood against the wall of the fraternity’s crowded living room, both holding red solo cups filled with Jungle Juice.

“Wait, what?!” You yell, trying to speak over the thumping music, leaning towards Peter with your hand cupped beside your mouth. “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the music!”

“I said that we clean up nice!” He yells, leaning closer to you - the smell of alcohol wafting in your face.

“God, Pete! How much have you drank?” You yell, stepping closer to him, stepping on his toe in the process and stumbling a bit. Peter’s wide hand gently spreads across the small of your back as he sloppily steps towards you, trying to balance himself and you in his embrace.

He lets out a small laugh, awkwardly pulling his hand from your back just as his honey eyes meet yours, pausing for a moment as he smiles down at you.

“What?” You smirk, squinting your eyes at him before you take a sip from your solo cup.

He licks his lips, eye to eye with you as a soft blush grows on his cheeks - “You look beautiful, Princess.”

“Did you just say that I look beautiful?” You speak into his ear, your bottom lip accidentally brushing against his flesh - immediately sending tingles down your spine just as Peter turns his face towards you, noses brushing together as he yells, “What?!”

You both pause, wide-eyed staring at one another, feeling like the only two people left in the world though the party rages around you.

Peter blinks, swallowing hard before his shaking hand raises, gently hooking his finger below your jaw and tilting your ear towards his mouth.. his lips brush against your skin as he says, “I think that you’re beautiful.”

“Peter, you’re drunk,” you laugh, though your stomach was actively tying into knots.

“I’m not drunk, I’m just in love with you,” he says, clearing his throat as his finger tips delicately trace your hand, softly lacing his fingertips in between yours.

Your eyes meet again. He raises his brows, nodding towards you as he repeats, “I’m in love with you.”

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ladylokilaufeyson5 · 2 years

Text

You’re Not My Spiderman - TASM!Peter Parker x Reader (Part 9/?)

Summary: After a strange incident involving a light in an alley, you encounter Spiderman, only to realise… he’s not your Spiderman.

Warnings: NWH spoilers, and it’s confusing keeping track of names and so much dialogue, I’m sorry i tried to break it up a bit :/

Words: 1.6K

A/N: y’all are in for something :)

“Okay so, uh... Connors, Marko, Dillon, and um…” Peter-of-this-world hesitated. He set aside the cure for Goblin. “Uh, look, I think that I can repair the devices for Dillon and Marko, but the others…”

“Oh, I got Connors,” identical-but-older-Peter said cockily. “I’ve already cured him once, so no big deal.” Everyone looked at him – you even added a raised eyebrow. “What? It’s no big deal.”

“I think I can make an anti-serum for Doctor Osborn,” youth-pastor-Peter said. “Been thinking about it a long time.”

You noticed Peter’s hesitance, as did youth-pastor-Peter.

“We gotta heal all of ‘em, right?” youth-pastor-Peter said quietly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter-of-this-world mumbled.

You looked at him for a moment before turning to face your Peter.

“Is Doctor Connors the–”

“Lizard?” Peter interjected. “Yeah. But the other Peter has it covered, so…”

He shrugged, and you looked over at the other three Peters, watching them work. They all had similar mannerisms, and they all seemed to be working hard. Your Peter gave your hand a squeeze before going over to talk to identical-but-older-Peter. After a moment you walked over to youth-pastor-Peter.

“Hi,” he said softly after you’d been watching him work for a few moments.

“Um… hi,” you replied, equally as soft.

Youth-pastor-Peter looked up from his work, a concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You looked over to Peter rather than replying. He was looking at identical-but-older-Peter intently, listening to him talk. Just the sight of him made your chest squeeze. Youth-pastor-Peter looked over in the direction you were looking, and he smiled sadly.

“You don’t wanna leave him, huh?”

You shook your head sadly.

“Peter!” Ned called.

All four heads swivelled in his direction.

“Yeah?” they all said at once. “Oh, sorry. Did you mean-”

They all pointed at each other.

“Peter, Peter?” Ned tried.

“We’re all called Peter,” they all said again.

“Peter Parker?”

“Same again…” youth-pastor-Peter and Peter-of-this-world said.

“We’re all Peter Parker,” your Peter and identical-but-older-Peter said.

“It’s uh... the computer!” Ned said.

Peter-of-this-world got up and looked at the computer, before nodding.

“I’m done,” he said.

“Me too,” identical-but-older-Peter said, holding his cure in his hand. “Okay, so now all we gotta do is lure these guys some place, right? Try to cure them while they try to kill us, and then send them home.”

Send them home. And the rest of you. You would all go home and… and you may never see Peter again. You really didn’t want to think about that.

After a few more words and the creation of a plan, Ned created a portal, and the four Spidermen stepped through. You went to follow, when identical-but-older-Peter stopped you.

“Hey… this might not be safe for you,” he said gently.

You raised an eyebrow and raised your flame-wreathed hand. Identical-but-older-Peter took a step back in surprise, but shrugged.

“I was wrong, continue,” he said, gesturing for you to go through the circle.

You gave him a grin before walking through, and onto the Statue of Liberty. All four Spidermen took off, and you rolled your eyes as you had to walk through all of the scaffolding to reach them.

“Thanks for leaving me behind, you guys,” you muttered, kicking a bucket that had been left up there.

The four Spidermen began talking, and you watched them interact, choosing to stay silent. You wished there was another way, but when Peter-of-this-world sent everyone back to their own worlds… you wouldn’t see your Peter. You weren’t entirely sure how you two would ever see each other again. Strange would probably tell you to not mess with the Multiverse, and you’d never see him again. The thought alone was enough to make you want to cry.

And then they started talking about the villains they’d fought. Peter-of-this-world mentioned Thanos, and your eyes shuttered briefly.

You hadn’t wanted to tell anyone that Tony was still alive in your universe. You didn’t want to hurt anyone by letting them know that even though in this world he was dead, in your world he was perfectly fine.

All at once, all four Spidermen turned their heads. You followed their gaze, when suddenly, a man crackling with golden electricity appeared.

The fight was a tough one. Sand and electricity swirled around the statue you fought on. You didn’t want to hurt any of the villains, not really, and the Spidermen seemed to have no idea how to work as a team. They were crashing into each other and causing hindrances for themselves and you. Eventually you all ended up on the scaffolding.

“What the hell is going on out there?” youth-pastor-Peter yelled, pulling you to your feet after you’d bene knocked down.

“I keep yelling at you,” identical-but-older-Peter said. “Peter-Two, Peter-Two, Peter-Two–”

“I know, but I thought you were Peter-Two!” youth-pastor-Peter exclaimed.

“What?! I’m not Peter-Two!” identical-but-older-Peter responded. “He’s Peter-Two!”

Identical-but-older-Peter pointed at your Peter.

“I am not–”

“Stop arguing! All of you! Listen to Peter-One!” Peter-of-this-world yelled.

“I didn’t say shit,” you muttered.

“Look, we’re clearly not very good at this!” Peter-of-this-world (now Peter-One) stated. There were a few agreements, and the other Peters confessed they had no idea how to work in a team.

“Well, I do! I have been in a team, okay?” Peter-One said. “I don’t want to brag, but I will. I was in The Avengers.”

You rolled your eyes slightly. He was definitely bragging.

“The Avengers?” youth-pastor-Peter exclaimed. “That’s great! What is that?”

Peter-One cocked his head in confusion.

“Wait. You don’t have The Avengers? “ he asked.

“Is that a band? Are you in a band?” identical-but-older-Peter asked interestedly.

“Every time!” you exclaimed. “They don’t have the Avengers! It’s weird.”

“Wait, really?” Peter-One asked.

“Yep,” your Peter said. “I asked if it was a band, too.”

A bolt of electricity cracked amid the sandstorm you were all stuck within.

“How’s this helping?!” youth-pastor-Peter cried.

“Look, it’s not important!” Peter-One said. “All we gotta do is focus, trust your tingle, and coordinate our attacks, okay?”

You refrained from saying ‘I told you so’ to your Peter. It was a tingle.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s pick one target,” your Peter said.

“We take them off the board one at a time,” identical-but-older-Peter said with a nod.

“Now you got it!” Peter-One exclaimed. “Okay, Peter-One–” he said, pointing to himself – “Peter-Two–” he said, pointing to youth-pastor-Peter – “Peter-Three–” he pointed to identical-but-older-Peter – “and Peter-Four.” He pointed to your Peter. “And Y/n.”

Everyone repeated their names (except you, because there was no need), and then you were off, fighting the battle. You saved MJ and Ned from the lizard-thing, but then got knocked off the statue. Your Peter webbed you, and you were able to get back onto the scaffolding. You ran around and up to the top where everyone was fighting.

Doctor Strange appeared, but before you could talk to him, the Goblin blew up his box thing. You felt a strange sense of relief as the box blew up – that meant that you and Peter could stay together. But you still had a job to do.

Eventually, all of the villains were cured. Peter-Three caught MJ when she fell off the building, and he seemed to have a bit of a moment. You all rushed down to the bottom, where Peter-One was attacking the Goblin. Peter-Two stopped him from killing the guy, but got stabbed in the process. Peter-Three threw the cure at Peter-One, and Peter-One cured the Goblin.

You and your Peter rushed over to Peter-Two as Peter-One knelt down beside him.

“Are you okay?” Peter-Three asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve been stabbed before,” Peter-Two said casually.

“Oh, good. Good, good, good,” you muttered, kneeling beside him to assess his stab wound.

“Is that – am I dead? Is that real?” Peter-Two asked, looking upwards.

You cast your gaze up to the sky, where it was falling apart. You could see glowing white figures within the cracks in the sky. Peter-One swung himself up to talk to Doctor Strange.

“Yeah, that’s real,” Peter-Three said in slight awe.

“It’s just a flesh wound,” you said with a sigh. “You need to apply pressure.”

You all looked up at the sky as Doctor Strange began a new spell. Orange sparks crackled through the sky, and you watched it all unfold. Peter-One made his way over to you all.

“I – this is it, I think,” he said. “You – you’re all going home.”

You felt your heart drop. You looked to your Peter to see him already staring at you. He turned his attention back to Peter-One, and all the Spidermen shared a heart-felt hug. Peter-One swung away, and your Peter was immediately at your side. Tears filled your eyes, and they began to stream down your cheeks.

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” you sobbed.

Tears fell down Peter’s face as he pulled you into a close embrace.

“I’ll find you again,” he said in a shaky voice. “I’ll find you. I promise.”

You cried harder into his chest. He pulled away to look at your face, his eyes moving quickly, as if he was trying to memorise everything about you. You did the same, attempting to burn his image into your mind. His soft curls falling over his face; his eyes, brown and comforting; his lips, his jaw, his cheeks. He leant in quickly and kissed you, the tears on your cheeks mingling.

“I’m sorry we didn’t have more time,” Peter whispered when he pulled away.

“Me too,” you hiccupped.

You rested your foreheads against each other, your hands cupping each other's faces. When the edges of Peter began to shimmer and fade, a final tear rolled down your cheek. You closed your eyes and felt him disappear.

Felt a part of yourself disappear, too.

Tagged: @silverwindptv @bilesxbilinskixlahey @a-hopeless-fan @fandomscombine @lendeluxe @seninjakitey @disartrous @amspcd @paw-sneeze @dark-night-sky-99 @navs-bhat

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