#the amazing spider man imagine

[literaila]

perishable hours 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: peter reminds you how important sleeping is. and then proceeds to keep you awake. 

warnings: fluff, insomnia, half-asleep drabbles. 

a/n: and in this i attempt to write fluff without writing fluff 

*

it's quiet when he gets the call. 

quiet enough for new york city in the middle of the night. car horns, and flickering lights, and yelling from a couple of streets down. the sound of doors opening and closing, and people running from dreams they used to covet. 

peter likes it best like this. when there's nothing to do. 

when time is only a thing to stand on, tilt off of the edge as he appreciates the silence that comes with three am. 

but then his phone starts buzzing in his pocket. 

peter--for just a moment--feels a bout of relief that his phone is still there. the guy at the tech store is getting tired of seeing him, and peter is getting tired of making an excuse every time he loses his phone. 

the relief goes away in a second; no one should be calling him at three in the morning. 

and when he sees your name on the screen--illuminated by a picture he took of you sitting at a counter, glaring at him because it was the fifth picture he'd taken of you that day--his confusion morphs into panic. 

you're usually asleep by now. usually laying in your bed, slightly snoring. you've always got some drool on the side of your cheek. always got your legs kicked out of the covers, shivering because of how cold it is. 

which peter knows, because he finds it all endlessly adorable. 

but only when you're actually doing it. 

and besides, you have a weird thing about calling him when he's patrolling.  

"i don't want you falling on your face when you get shocked by your ringtone," you'd said to him. 

peter had smiled, charming. "but then you could kiss the bruises away." 

so peter clears his throat, avoids thinking about whatever you might need, and backs into an alleyway that he would avoid under any other circumstance. 

he'll do the most for you. 

"hey, baby," he answers, sounding more carefree than he feels. 

he can hear you breathe into the phone. "hey." 

peter keeps a smile on his face. "what're you doing up so late?" 

there's a sniffle on the other end. 

it only proves to drop peter's heart even lower in his chest. 

he hums into the phone, waiting. 

"peter," you whisper, softly, breath catching.

"what's going on, sweetheart?" peter asks you, slipping the mask off of his face. he looks around for any pedestrians, and then takes off his gloves. "another bad dream?" 

"no. it's just--" peter can't hear you clear enough to tell if you're crying, but he has a sinking--sinking so far into the earth that it digs up spare body parts--suspicion that you are. "i can't sleep." 

peter holds the phone up between his ear and shoulder, sneaking his other arm out of its sleeve. "are you feeling okay?" 

"yeah." 

"just tired?" 

"yeah." 

peter switches ears. "i'm sorry, baby. what can i do?" 

"i don't know. i thought talking to you would help" you breathe out, sniffing again. "but i just feel worse now." 

"worse?" 

"you're working. i can hear sirens." 

peter avoids shivering from the cold. "i was just heading home." 

"don't lie, peter." 

"i'm not," he swears, pulling his suit down so he can shake it off of his feet. "i'd much rather talk to you. it's boring tonight. and cold." 

"you like when it's boring." 

peter tries not to smile at how well you know him. "i like it when you're feeling alright, too. did you just want to talk?" 

there's a brief pause, leaving peter a moment to dread whatever you're going to say next. 

as he stands in a dark alleyway in a t-shirt, underwear, and socks. his hand digs around for the backpack he stashed earlier. 

"it's okay," you whisper. "i'll probably fall asleep soon." 

peter smiles, maybe amused at the unspoken words. or maybe because he's trying not to freeze to death. his heart flickers at the concession in your voice. 

he slips his sweatpants on next, refusing to think about the reality of this situation. 

"baby," he whispers to you, listening to you breathe. 

"yeah?" 

"can i come over?" 

peter hears something that sounds like a laugh. 

"you don't have to. you're probably tired." 

"nope." 

"peter," you sigh, now trying to convince him. 

peter laughs, slipping on his shoes. "i'm wide awake. and greedy." 

"greedy?" 

"wanna see you. it's been too long." 

this time, you actually laugh. "i saw you earlier today." 

"my point exactly." 

"you still don't have to." 

peter zips up his backpack, falling back into the light once more. he listens to the sirens and smiles into the phone. 

"i'll be there in ten." 

*

you flinch as you wake up, body on alert, nerves short-circuiting until you're sure that your limbs have left completely. 

that the numbness of your arm is just a trick of your mind. 

and that the eyes on you are just some part of a leftover dream. dazing carefully, droning on and on because they won't look away. 

brown and warm and soft and smooth. rough in their nature. playful. 

they stare at you, amused. unmoving and careful and cautious. 

and there's a hand on your head, musing your hair. 

you groan and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to grab onto the grasps of dreams that are still leftover. 

because it would seem that this isn't one. 

"good morning?" peter says, laughing. 

you fall even further into the pillows, head aching from the light coming in through your window. 

"are you still sleeping?" peter asks, softly, moving your malleable head. tilting your jaw. 

you can still feel his eyes on you. 

"why are you staring at me?" 

"incoming news: my baby is beautiful." 

peter's voice is soft and teasing and far too amorous for your heart. too strong and true and every usual thing that you love about it. 

"too early for this," you mumble, moving away from him and digging your face into a pillow. 

peter laughs. moves you back so that he can stare at you. 

"this is creepy, peter." 

"okay." 

you open one eye, squinting at him. "i don't remember inviting you in here." 

"that's weird because i remember it very well," peter tilts his head, eyebrow raised. "i distinctly remember someone tackling me when i--" 

you push him away. 

"not like that," peter says, returning.

"how long have you been awake?" 

"an hour or so." 

your other eye opens. you blink. "what?" 

peter moves his head down into your neck, nuzzling the skin by your pulse. "you're very warm." 

"you mean to tell me that you've just been laying there for an hour?" 

"not just," he says into your skin. 

you can feel the vibration. curse the goosebumps that respond. 

peter laughs. 

"how did you sleep?" he asks you, softly.

"fine until i woke to a stranger in my bed." 

peter's head jerks up. "where?" 

you laugh, pushing his cheek away with the tip of your finger. peter smiles and grabs your hand from his face, kissing the knuckles there. 

"how did you sleep?" you ask him. "were you here all night?" 

"came in around four. you woke up, kissed me, and then fell back asleep." 

"sounds about right." 

peter moves some hair out of your face. "i didn't mean to scare you," he says. "i'm sorry." 

"you didn't scare me." 

"i would've left but i fell asleep." 

"that's good. you were out late." 

peter doesn't answer that, only traces a finger from the corner of your eye to your jaw, up to your lips. his touch tickles, which you know, is the point. 

"you didn't scare me," you repeat, because you know him. 

"no? you jumped." 

"that's how i always wake up." 

peter laughs and kisses your cheek, melting his adoration into you. 

it's almost unfair. 

"i thought i was dreaming. i like it when you're here." 

peter meets your eyes. "yeah?" 

you nod, allowing your lips to move on their own accord. to bend and twist and smile at him like he's the only thing that could be worth it. 

peter smiles back, just the same. "you're cute when you're half asleep," he whispers. 

cloudy tone and sweet words and things that are supposed to kill you right where you lay. 

but then he kisses you. he manages to wake you up completely, any hazed thoughts drifting away from your head. nerves alight with fear that he'll move away. skin burning at the thought of him touching you. 

which he is. 

he teases at your skin, laughing into your mouth. 

you laugh back. 

peter pulls back, hand tilting your chin toward him. "what do you wanna do today?" 

*

when peter wakes up, it's to the sound of a door closing. 

so he lays in bed for a moment. tries to remember where he is and why he's asleep. 

it's still dark outside, he can see when he looks through the window. streetlight shining in on his face. 

if he touched the glass, his skin would freeze.  

peter pulls the cover over his head, his own warm breath punching him in the face. 

he's pretty sure that he forgot to brush his teeth. 

so he moves them back down, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. he's not sure when he fell asleep. barely remembers watching a movie with you, and laughing when you almost fell off of the bed. he doesn't remember what happened next. 

but he knows that you should be right next to him, clinging to him like you always do when it's cold outside. 

but you're not. you're nowhere near him. 

he looks over to the clock on the bedside table, the numbers flashing red back at him with a glare. 

he blinks again. 

and then sits up, looking at the crumbled covers on your side of the bed. the pillows on the floor. 

and peter frowns because usually, this isn't a good sign. 

he hears you close something else in the other room. 

there's a slight concern fuzzing up in his chest. like a purr of his blood, telling him that he's not falling back asleep any time soon. just barely dimmed from the excess of exhaustion still in his chest. 

peter feels just a little bit dizzy when he stands up, feet wobbling over the floor. he still has his socks on. 

he walks to the door, just about to open it when he hears something else on the other side. 

something that sounds like music, and something that sounds like you dying. 

peter walks out into the kitchen to find you singing into a whisk, dancing to a song he doesn't quite recognize. 

all of the lights are on. 

you don't seem to notice him, even when he goes up to the counter, just continue singing and dancing--movements soft and smooth and far too enthusiastic for two in the morning. 

still, peter lets a smile tease at his lips. 

he wonders if maybe he's still asleep. that maybe this is just something funny to tell you about tomorrow. 

but then you look up at him, eyes widening, movements stopping. 

peter watches as you almost fumble with the bowl on the counter, falling like he's just changed your center of gravity by walking into the room. 

"peter," you say, surprised, voice a bit quieter than the music. you reach over the counter to grab your phone, turning it down. "you're awake." 

peter laughs, noticing some flour on your nose. 

"did i wake you up?" you ask, brows folding. "i'm sorry. i was trying to keep it down." 

peter shakes his head. "no. what're you doing?" 

you look down at the bowl again, almost guilty. like a child with lipstick all over their face. "making cookies." 

peter sits down on a stool, watching you. "this late?" 

you give him an innocent smile. "i thought that you might help me eat them." 

"why are you awake?" 

you shrug. "i wanted cookies." 

"so you decided to start making some at two in the morning?" 

you frown. "well, actually, i woke up an hour ago. do you know how dirty the kitchen was?" 

"bub--" 

"i spent an hour cleaning it. and now i'm making cookies." 

peter lets out an exasperated laugh. "that's all?" 

"i was dancing." 

"i noticed." 

you frown and stop mixing the dough. look towards the clock on the stove. "you should go back to bed. you have to be up early, don't you?" 

peter nods, biting his lip. 

you stare at him, waiting. 

he stares back, so willing to watch your face shift and burn into the atmosphere. 

a perfect cosmology. 

"what?" you ask him, brows raised. 

"what kind of cookies?" 

"chocolate chip." 

peter gets up, walking around the counter, towards you. "can i have one?" 

"i'm making them for you." 

peter goes right behind you, wrapping arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest, and letting his head drift down to your shoulder. 

"are you going to fall asleep right there?" you ask him. 

"i might," peter leaves a kiss on the skin of your neck he can reach. "speak now or forever hold your peace." 

you say nothing. simply take the bag of chocolate chips next to you and pour it into the dough. 

"you know i'm not going back to bed until you do, right?" 

you nod your head against him, pushing yourself as close to peter as possible. 

peter closes his eyes, breathing you in for a moment. 

and a couple of minutes when he opens them again, he frowns, reaching around you to grab a mug. 

"is this coffee?" he sniffs at the cup, spinning you around. 

you're trying not to smile. so guilty. 

"baby," he sighs, throwing his head back. 

"i just needed a little kick when i was cleaning--" 

"we've talked about this." 

you frown and cross your arms. "when?" 

"when we talked about getting enough sleep, and not sabotaging yourself--" 

you tap a finger on your chin. "do not recall." 

"you're not getting out of this one." 

"we'll go to bed when the cookies are done," you say, so simply, turning back around, purposefully avoiding his eyes. 

"hey," he says, tilting your head back towards him. "what's with that?" 

"what?" 

"your mischievous little smile." 

you pull away from his hands, shrugging. "don't know what you're talking about," you mumble.

peter pulls you away from the counter again, moving so that he can see you. "you planned this out." 

"hmm?" 

"being loud, the music, my favorite cookies..." peter stares at you, maybe amazed, maybe annoyed. 

you are completely silent. 

"oh, you--" peter laughs, digging a finger into your stomach to watch you squirm. "waking me up because you missed me, huh?" 

"peter--" 

he laughs when you giggle hysterically, trying to push his hands away. 

"what'd i do to deserve that, bub? you're always talking about--" 

"you win!" you gasp, "baby, i don't--" 

"--how important sleep is." 

"peter, c'mon, i can't--" 

"and what was that about 'you should go back to bed?'" peter demands, a smile playing at his lips. "you're the one that woke me up--"

"mercy," you plead. "i'm sorry," but you're laughing so hard that peter can feel your body shaking. 

one of his hands moves to cradle your cheek, getting you to look him right in the eyes. 

face bright and warm and every beautiful thing that peter isn't sure he deserves. 

"you're sorry?" 

"so terribly." 

"and you're going to stop drinking coffee this early in the morning?" 

you pout. "i didn't say anything about that." 

peter's hand reaches for your ribs again, and you squeal. 

"okay," you move away from him--not that he's letting you go. "okay. no more coffee." 

"good." 

and then peter stares at you, trying not to burst into laughter. 

you look like you're doing the same. 

peter raises a brow. 

"okay, to be fair--" you begin. 

"here we go." 

"you fell asleep so early. like, how old are you actually? because i thought you would at least make it to eight, but--" 

peter's jaw drops. 

you giggle at him, eyes crinkling at the sides. 

"did you just call me old?" 

"not explicitly." 

and then he pulls you even closer, tilting his head so he can whisper in your ear. "now you're in for it." 

the next morning, peter doesn't remember if you finished making the cookies. 

*

"peter," you whisper, almost close enough to taste his skin. 

to watch him breathe and wonder what it would be like to never stop. 

he doesn't budge. moves over and continues snoring into the pillow. 

so you laugh at him, sit down on the space he's so considerately made for you on the bed. 

you rub at his shoulder, frowning at how warm he is. 

"hey, kid," you say to him, glancing at the clock. "wake up." 

peter's eyes flutter the minimalist amount. 

you snort. 

"c'mon," you say. "it's almost noon. i would let you sleep but you're going to mess up your schedule..." 

he sniffs. tries to roll over again. 

you poke his cheek. 

"you should know that there is a water bottle right on your desk," you say, softly. "and that i am not afraid of you. or the water. at all." 

peter peaks an eye open. 

"there he is." 

he frowns. "would you really dump it on me?" 

you pretend to think about it. "i would kiss you awake first." 

"is that still an option?" 

you laugh and fall over him, cuddling deep into his skin. 

"woah," he says, but wraps an arm around your back, holding you closer. his fingertips tease at the back of your neck, daring. "have you been up long?" 

"since nine." 

"what'd you do?" 

"watched some tv. made breakfast. drew a mustache on your face in sharpie." 

peter's head lifts up, meeting your eyes. "really?" 

you laugh, trace his cupids brow. 

you admire the soft color of his skin. the pink to his cheeks and the flush that he has only this early in the afternoon. only after you've been laying on him. 

only with you; only with him. 

"shame," peter sighs. "i've been trying to grow it out." 

his nose meets yours, sweet and soft, and he's so close that you almost don't remember how to speak. 

how to breathe and pretend that it's normal. 

"i'll keep that in mind tomorrow morning," you whisper, just barely. 

peter lays back, pulling you with him. you watch the dimple on his cheek twitch and forget about doing anything else. 

*

peter doesn't bother to knock on the window when he gets in this late. 

he doesn't want to run the risk of waking you up--of worrying you with bruises that will be gone by morning, and making you leave the secure cocoon you've collected around yourself. 

blankets and wonderful thoughts and feelings that peter misses just a little bit too much right now. 

as soon as he's in your room, he's slipping his shoes off. 

he's looking at you and wondering how he ever managed to leave. 

he's taking off his jacket, dropping his bag on the floor, and trying not to shiver from the cold. 

he's staring at you, for just a little too long. 

he watches your face as you twitch in your sleep, a soft curve of your lips. a blank and peaceful face. 

peter's chest pinches at the idea of watching this any longer. 

so he crawls towards you, leaving a short and yearning kiss on your cheek. 

moving the covers just a little bit. so that he can fall into them with you. 

"hey, bub," he says to you, knowing that you can't hear. 

he lets himself fall into your bubble, taking up space that he knows you don't want. 

he moves some hair out of your eyes; smiles at the subtle twitch of your cheek. 

and then he kisses your hairline, wanting to spend all night staring at you. 

talking to you and listening to you speak back. memorizing the sound of your voice and every little thing that makes you laugh. 

he wants to fall asleep right here. right now. 

he wants to avoid the world and pretend that there isn't anything else. 

because maybe there isn't. 

even with the light from outside shining on your face--ruining the illusion--he smiles. 

he pulls you closer to him, cooing softly when you cuddle close to him, smiling in your sleep. 

and then he breathes out. 

falls asleep without a doubt in his mind. 

*

my masterlist here. 

tags: @moonlarking-blog​ @v1ci0us​ @preciousbabypeter​ @alexxavicry​ @directioner5life​  @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah​ @localrockstargf​

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Rough Waters ~ P.P.

A/n: Added a little bit more than what the request asked for. Hope you like it!

Request: “Tasm!peter x male reader, where Pete and reader been having a rough time in their relationship to where Peter asks if reader wants to break up” by anon

Word Count: 1700+

MASTERLIST

"Where have you been?"

Peter frozen, mask in hand as he heard his partner's voice. He turned slowly - like a teenager caught coming home past curfew. He hesitated, analyzing their expression and body language to try to grasp whether they were anxious or angry. What time was it? He was in costume - they knew exactly where he'd been, which meant the problem was something else. Had he forgotten an anniversary or birthday? A performance? Had he stayed out too late and forgotten to message his boyfriend?

There were too many possibilties.

Y/n was especially hard to read tonight, which meant he was even more upset than usual. Peter braced himself. "Out."

That was not the right thing to say. Y/n's face turned a light shade of red as he tried very hard to keep calm and talk slowly. Calmly. "Okay. I'll give you that one." His eyes dropped to Peter's suit and for a second the most visceral rage crossed his face, before he smoothed it out again and met Peter's eyes. "I'm assuming you forgot then."

Peter shrugged, defensive. Always defensive. "I've got a lot going on Y/n, I forget."

"You forget," Y/n scoffed. The words curled from his lips like they were almost laughable, almost offensive. "I know you forget Peter. You forget, a lot."

He swallowed, wringing his mask. He felt cornered and he never responded well when he felt cornered. "What did I forget? Don't just leave it up in the air."

The calm coming from Peter seemed to make Y/n angrier. "No. I'm not going to remember everything for you. And don't you dare-" He rushed as Peter went to argue again, cutting him off before he could. "-start with me about how busy you are. I know you are busy Peter Benjamin." Ooh, middle name. This was very bad then. "If it was something I at least cared about I'd let it slide. I'm more than used to that. But May?"

His words hurt, but nothing knocked the breath out of his lungs like thinking he'd let May down. "What? Y/n you can't hold this from me, what did I forget?"

Y/n scoffed, turning away and heading further into the apartment. He seemed done with the conversation.

Peter wasn't though. He chased his boyfriend, his own anger growing. This wasn't something they could work through together - May was waiting for something from him. Y/n was holding him back from doing something for his aunt. This wasn't a small thing - this was huge. May didn't know Peter was Spider-Man. Had Y/n given him an excuse again? Was she okay? "Y/n-" He reached out, grabbing his boyfriend's arm in a desperate attempt to get him to stop.

Usually Y/n would pull away from him, spin around and start going off. Reprimand him and tell him everything and then they'd argue and after a while maybe cry and then they'd hold each other because it felt like their relationship was falling through their fingers. They did it every time anything went wrong - it was habit. Easy to play out. Every step was expected. Pre-written.

Except Y/n just stopped walking away. He froze, feet together, still looking away from Peter. It was so unexpected, so cold and far away, that it made Peter panic more than he'd ever panicked in their relationship before. He was stiff solid for a beat before he was falling forward, feet tripping to keep up as he made his way around Y/n. The man's eyes were blank. Empty. There was no anger on his face anymore, just... emptiness. He look exhausted.

"Y/n-" Peter began.

"It was May's birthday."

There was a long silence. It went on maybe even too long as Peter's will to fight suddenly left him. It was immediately gone - like a light switch turned off. He had been forgetful recently, scattered and distant. But.. surely he wouldn't forget that. Not something so important. He'd always rushed to keep himself busy. Work, Spider-Man, relationship. Or... arguing. Fighting. Had that really been every part of his life recently? Sure he did other things -

But, no. He couldn't think of a single other thing he'd done. Sleep, eat, shower, brush teeth, work, Spider-Man, come home and argue. When had arguing become part of the routine? When had the days started to blend together, every single one identical to the last? How had so much time passed without him even realizing it?

How long had they been like this?

He looked at Y/n, a horrible feeling sinking in his skin, settling in his rib cage. An ache. "We're not working anymore, are we?" He knew why Y/n didn't fight this time. Why he'd given up. There was nothing to fight for. Not when all they did was argue.

Y/n didn't even sigh, or shrug. He just sat on the bed. No hands through his hair. He didn't seem angry of frustrated or even sad. Just tired. It was more of an answer than he could have ever given with words. "We haven't worked for a very long time, Peter."

Peter sat on the other side of the bed, mask still in his hands, dangling between his legs. They sat like that for a very long time, backs to each other. It seemed silly, but he had to ask it out loud. "Do you want to break up?" His voice sounded heavy, hollow. It didn't even shock him. He realized it still hurt... but he'd seen this coming for a long time. That was why he was avoiding it, after all. He didn't want to address it. He had always been one to bury his head and pretend nothing was wrong.

This time Y/n did sigh. "Yeah." No argument. No fight. Just one, single word. It was so final, Peter didn't say anything else. He didn't even look up as the weight on the bed lifted and a few sounds here and there began to be made. A zipper, drawers opening and closing, a few doors opening and closing. Until - "You were worth it. In the end. I'm glad we got the time we did." A pause and then, "Peter?" When he didn't say anything, Y/n went silent. Then the bedroom door closed, and the apartment door opened, and then closed again.

The rest of the night was silent.

-

The daycare was loud. Peter was only here because May had asked him for a favor. Her neighbor had been caught up with something and needed someone to pick up her son. The first time had been a few months ago, and he had volunteered to pick the kid up for her as often as he could since then. It helped her out and... and...

Y/n was helping Michael - the child Peter was supposed to pick up - with his jacket. Y/n had kneeled down, and was laughing at some story Michael was telling. He looked breathtaking. All the weight from his shoulders gone, seeming to have slept very well. Brighter than before. He looked up when Peter approached, and not a lick of recognition was in his eyes. Peter thought back to the other world, with the two other Peters and the villains they'd fought together. The spell that would send everyone home and make everyone forget about Peter Parker.

Everyone.

He swallowed, forcing himself to collect himself. Y/n's eyes light up in the way they always did when he was looking at something he found wonderful. Or someone attractive. They'd seen each other from a distance so often. Y/n was usually busy with one of the other kids who favored him, a little girl with green eyes that always begged him to help her get her shoes on. Today she was with one of the other teachers though. Peter tried to dismiss the thought that Y/n might have arranged this on purpose.

"Hey little dude," he greeted Michael first, grinning as the toddler waddled up to him, hands reaching up. Peter scooped him up. Michael launched into a story about play time where they'd pretended to be Spider-Man. Peter felt his heart warm. He'd only been back from the other world for a year - and undoing his tarnished reputation had been hard work. But some people saw the old Spider-Man, and they were slowly opening up to him again. Glad to see him doing better. Some people didn't - but some people never would have in the first place, so he didn't hold it against himself too harshly.

In the middle of the story, Y/n chuckled. "Right?" Michael asked the teacher, as if remembering he was there for the first time. "You got the bad guy!"

Y/n blushed. The way Michael had been telling the story, Peter had assumed the boy had been playing Spider-Man. But, in that moment, it clicked that Y/n had been playing the hero, leaving the mischievous villain to the youth. "Spider-Man always gets the bad guy. That's what heroes do." Peter's breath caught. he hadn't heard Y/n call him a hero in a very long time. His unknowing ex looked over, suddenly sheepish "Sorry, I know- um- not a lot of people approve of Spider-Man. I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay," Peter was quick to reassure. "His mom is a fan of Spider-Man. But even if she wasn't, I wouldn't rat you out." He winked, as if they were conspirators, and he watched Y/n's face turn red. It was so easy to pick up on all their little hints and expressions - they were still so familiar to him. He hadn't forgotten a single detail of them, even after all this time. He had gone to another world, cleaned up his act, and even started therapy.

Maybe a second chance wouldn't be too out of the question. He could do it better this time.

"A trust worthy guy," Y/n mused. "Does he keep his promises?"

Peter thought on it. Y/n had said something similar the first time he had flirted with Peter too. He'd follow it up with, 'maybe you can promise me dinner then?' or something. But it was a real question - one Peter hadn't taken seriously enough the first time it was asked. "I try to."

Y/n's face light up with a smile. "Maybe you could promise we a coffee and if you succeed keeping that one, we can make a few more after that."

It was better than last time, so quickly on a better foot already. Peter smiled. "Yeah. I'd love that."

Y/n had been right the night he'd left. Peter was glad they'd met, and their love was worth all of the mess they'd gone through to experience it. This time, Peter would try harder though. This time it would work. He was sure of it.

-

Male Readers: @ravenpuff-oli @sortzz @fadedver

[bi-bard]

Jonathan Larson Songs That Describe a Relationship with Peter Parker - Peter Parker Imagine [The Amazing Spider-Man (2012)]

Title: Jonathan Larson Songs That Describe a Relationship with Peter Parker

Pairing: Peter Parker X Reader

Word Count: 2,930 words

Warning(s): Peter's commitment issues/past trauma, mention of potential break-up

Summary: Three songs by Jonathan Larson that would describe a relationship with Peter Parker [The Amazing Spider-Man (aka Andrew Garfield's Peter Parker)]

Author's Note: I am so fucking funny.

**Not intentionally written in chronological order**

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Johnny Can't Decide

Johnny has no guide Johnny wants to hide Can he make his mark, if he gives up his spark? Johnny can't decide

I had grown used to just finding Peter in my apartment.

At some point, I just started to expect it more than anything. Whether he used the key that I gave him or the window into my bedroom, it was normal for him to be there.

What wasn't normal was to find him looking through my computer.

"Peter," I said, furrowing my eyebrows. "What are you doing?"

"What's this," he asked, pointing at the screen.

I walked over but stopped when I could fully focus on the screen. My heart dropped as guilt washed over me.

"(Y/n)-"

"They're apartment listings," I answered.

"These aren't in New York," he pointed out. "You want to leave the city completely?"

"I... I've been looking at jobs," I shrugged. "I started looking at places to move if I get the offer."

"Why," he asked. "I thought you liked it here."

"I did," I replied. "For a long time. But these last few months... they've been pushing me to leave."

He turned in my chair fully. "When were you going to tell me?"

"I was hoping to tell you once I got an offer, but... I don't know if I would've."

"What?"

"I know that you wouldn't want to leave."

He scoffed. "You couldn't know that-"

"Peter, you love this city. You love being Spider-Man. I would never ask you to leave it. Spider-Man has been in your life a lot longer than I have."

"You didn't even ask me."

"So, you would leave? If I asked?"

Peter paused.

I saw the weight of the choice actually setting in.

He would be leaving the city that he loved. He would either have to give up being Spider-Man and face being accused of not caring about the city, start protecting a different city and still be faced with the same accusation, or find some way to kill Spider-Man without getting himself killed.

"I want to be with you, Peter. I love you," I said. "But I won't let this be some reason you resent me later. I won't do that."

"You're leaving," he asked. "No matter what?"

"I think so," I replied.

I never told him about the fear that sat in my stomach every night when he wasn't there.

Whether or not he was on the news for his actions, I knew that he was out there. He was dealing with threats that the city wasn't aware of most of the time. I would sit up and wait for him. When I'd hear the familiar thump on the fire escape outside or- on rare occasions- hear the door open, I'd lay down, slow my breathing, and pretend that I had fallen asleep hours ago.

Whether or not he ever believed my little act was a mystery.

And I wasn't just leaving because of that. It just made me less hesitant.

"I'll leave the choice to you," I explained. "You can think about it. Whatever you want is fine. But I am leaving. Your choice is just whether or not you're going with me."

He nodded. "Okay."

I walked forward and kissed his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too," he muttered. "Do you... Do you want me to leave?"

"Up to you," I shrugged. "I won't be hurt if you don't want to stay here tonight."

"No, no, I want to," he said. "I want to be here."

"Okay," I smiled at him.

I know that he didn't fall asleep that night. Mostly because I didn't either.

I think we both pretended to in the hopes of comforting each other. As some silent sign that everything was okay. But it wasn't. We both knew that there was this impending end on the horizon. We knew that everything between us had shifted and was going to continue to shift.

Realistically, I couldn't imagine Peter choosing me over his work here. I knew that I was fighting a losing battle.

But I don't know if that made it easier or harder to cope with.

Another Day

The heart may freeze Or it can burn The pain will ease If I can learn There is no future There is no past I live this moment as my last

I never thought about how bad I could be at reading signals.

I hated making assumptions about people's feelings, but there were a few moments when I was certain that I was right.

Like now.

Peter and I had been friends for a while. We had grown close. I developed feelings for him far faster than I wanted to admit. It just felt so easy with him. He was funny and smart and sweet. He felt too perfect to exist, but I couldn't find the drive to search for some flaw in the image.

I should've. Maybe that would have helped me in the long run.

He had come over to my place after work one day. We had both been talking about this movie that we wanted to see and I had found it on DVD. It almost felt like fate pushing us into the same place.

I was coming back from grabbing the pizza that had been delivered to find that Peter had disappeared. I furrowed my eyebrows set the pizza down and looked around.

I found him standing in my small hallway, looking at the pictures that I had on my wall.

"Peter?" I said.

He looked over at me. "Sorry."

"Don't be," I shook my head as I walked over. "If I didn't want them to be looked at every once and a while, then I would've hidden them."

He chuckled. "They're nice... the pictures."

"Thanks," I grinned. "My mom sent me a whole bunch when I first moved out. Something about keeping me close to home in a way."

"She sounds nice."

She would have to be to listen to me talk about you as much as I do, I thought. "She is."

Peter just nodded.

"She actually had them already printed out," I chuckled. "Something about knowing that I wouldn't stick around."

"Always running?"

"No, no, just running here," I corrected. "I wanted to be in this city for as long as I can remember. I always had some semblance of what I wanted for my life. I just sometimes have trouble acting on what I want."

"I see," he replied, looking at me. "And what exactly is it that you want now?"

I paused for a moment. I had a thousand thoughts jumping around my mind, but all of them trailed back to him. It felt silly. Ridiculous.

But then, I looked back at him.

I couldn't explain it, but there was something. Something just behind his eyes that made me feel like my thousand thoughts weren't as ridiculous as I thought they were.

I slowly stepped closer to him. I hesitantly leaned closer to him, waiting for some sign to fill the gap or pull away and act like it never happened. I couldn't find either. I stopped, maintaining just a few inches between us.

"We shouldn't," Peter muttered. He didn't pull away. He just let the words hang in the small space between us.

"Why," I asked, also not moving. I had been craving this moment for too long for that.

He paused as if trying to make up some excuse that satisfied him as much as it did me. "Work."

"Work?" I chuckled a bit at the answer.

"People will talk," he explained. "And if we don't work out, it could get so much worse."

"I'm okay with that risk," I shrugged. He didn't respond. He didn't pull back or talk or anything. "Life is simply too short to spend all of our time worried about every single thing that could possibly go wrong."

I leaned forward, nose brushing his.

"I want this... with you. And if you want it too, then I see no reason for us to hide from it."

I saw something. In his eyes. There was something that he wanted to say. Something sitting on the very edge of his tongue that he couldn't force out. Something that would make the moment too scary or too real.

I just watched his eyes jump from my eyes to my lips.

"Peter," I muttered.

He hummed back.

I leaned in and closed the remaining distance. I wrapped my arms around him as he kissed me back.

It was a few moments. A matter of seconds before he pulled away again.

I furrowed my eyebrows are he stumbled back from me. "Peter?"

"I... I need to go. I need to leave. I'm sorry."

"What," I asked. "I thought... I thought that we were..."

"I'll see you at work tomorrow," he muttered.

"Can we please just talk about this, Peter-"

"No!" he snapped. "There's... There's nothing to talk about. I'm leaving."

"Peter, wait-"

"Bye."

The door slammed behind him as he walked out. I felt my heart drop when it did. I felt like I should have heard it based on how fast it fell.

I wanted to follow him but I just couldn't. I just had to stand there with this sudden realization that everything that I thought was wrong. Every feeling that I was convinced had been shared was wrong.

It was a scary thing to think about.

I took one huge risk and it backfired greatly.

And now, I had no way to fix what I had broken.

As far as I was concerned, I had just lost Peter forever.

Swimming

Out, don't think Out, out, let it out Keep the shoulder down, down Easy, not too hard Find the movement's origin

I hadn't always been used to seeing Peter sitting on my fire escape in his full Spider-Man gear.

In fact, the first night that it happened, I almost shit myself.

I hadn't known about Peter's true identity. It had been a matter of days since he had rejected me outside my door and run away. I didn't know why at the time. I was still hurt and just trying to accept it. I couldn't force him to change his mind or process his grief faster than he was.

I just had to accept that I had no control over the situation. The only thing that I had control over was whether or not I would wait for him.

I had decided not to. I knew how my mind worked. If I stayed in contact with him, then I would just be reminded of the hurt every day. I would never be able to move on.

So, I ignored him.

If he noticed or cared, then he did a very good job controlling himself. He never confronted me. I took that as a sign.

I had just gotten back from work, entirely exhausted both physically and emotionally. I threw some stuff onto the table before going to walk back to my room and get ready to shower.

I switched on my light and looked out the window, only to find something looking back at me.

It took me a moment to recognize it, but anyone who had been watching would know the Spider-Man mask when they saw it.

The figure picked up its hand and waved at me. Then, it motioned for me to open the window.

I slowly reached over and grabbed the letter opener that my dad had insisted I own. I had no proof that this was the real Spider-Man and not some psycho in a fake suit. I would've been convinced by the mere presence on my fire escape, but if it was someone from my building, they could probably find a way there.

To put it simply, there were too many risks.

I walked over to the window and paused when I got there.

The figure motioned for me to open the window.

I paused for a moment before leaning forward and letting out a puff of air so the window fogged up a bit. I did my best to write 'Why?' backward.

The figure seemed to laugh and shake its head at me. I thumped the window as a way to tell it off.

After holding its hands up for a moment, it looked around and moved to pull its mask off.

I was met with Peter's face. My eyes went wide as I scrambled to push the window open.

"Lead with that," I scolded him.

"Sorry," he replied. "Can I come in?"

I moved so he could climb inside. I pulled the window shut again and locked it. It was strange to turn around and see Spider-Man standing in the middle of my room. Weirder when it felt like it was just Peter's head on Spider-Man's body.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Just don't sneak onto my fire escape-"

"It's not about the fire escape," he cut me off. "I meant about everything. Pushing you away and lying to you. You deserved answers and I was too much of a coward to actually offer those to you."

I took a moment to collect my thoughts. "This is your explanation for rejecting me... being Spider-Man?"

"Well, there's a bit more to it than that."

"How am I supposed to believe the initial information?"

Peter sighed before sticking out his arm. I jumped as something shot right by my head and stuck to the wall behind me.

I looked at it for a moment before reaching out to touch it. I cringed a bit at the texture and shoot my hand back. "Gross."

"It's not meant to be pleasant," he replied, dropping his arm.

"Okay... what's the rest of your reason?"

"Gwen," he explained. "We were together for a while. She knew about... this. She was trying to help and then... I couldn't save her. I tried. I did. But she fell and I didn't catch her in time and she... she died in my arms."

I felt sick to my stomach. I felt like I was forcing him to tell me all of this. It was wrong of me to demand information that he didn't seem ready to tell me. I was going to stop him, but he didn't let me get a word in.

"I pulled away from everything for a while," he continued. "I... I stopped pulling my punches. I just... It felt like I just went dark. For a long time. And then... I met you. It felt like I was returning to normal.

"When we kissed... I just... I thought of every single way that I could get you hurt."

I took a deep breath. "Then why come back here? Why tell me this?"

"You were avoiding me and I was scared and- and confused and... all I wanted was for us to be okay but I didn't know how to fix it. I- I only knew that it was my fault. And then, I was out tonight, working, and I couldn't think of anything but you. You and how I messed things up and how badly I needed to talk to you. I was just constantly reminded of you."

I didn't have a response. There wasn't one that would explain my thoughts or say something that I hadn't already said or feel like I wasn't being disrespectful about everything that he had just told me.

Peter stepped forward, slowly reaching out to cup the sides of my face. His thumb traced my cheek as his eyes jumped around my face.

"I... I want you. I want to be with you," he muttered. "I just knew that I couldn't admit that without being completely honest with you about everything."

I didn't feel physically able to respond until I felt his hands pulling away. I frantically reached up to hold them in place. I stepped even closer to him.

"Kiss me," I murmured. He didn't react for a moment. "I... I'm willing to deal with all of this... with anything that comes with this. I just need to know that-"

I was cut off by Peter leaning forward and pressing his lips to mine. I slowly kissed him back, my hands moving to his sides. I felt a smile creeping onto my lips as the kiss continued.

Peter pulled back first.

"I'm sorry," he said. "For everything."

"I forgive you," I mumbled. "I promise."

He slowly smiled back at me.

I leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, hearing a heavy sigh escape him as his shoulders finally dropped and his muscles relaxed. I leaned back again, feeling his hands move down to my sides.

There was a small pause.

"Can I start with the dumb questions now," I asked quietly.

"Sure," he chuckled, nodding at me.

"The webs... where... where are they coming from?"

He tilted his head back for a moment as he laughed. "That's what you want to know?"

I nodded.

"You could ask any question that you want... and you ask that?"

"It's a very good question."

He nodded. "You're right."

"Are you gonna answer it?"

"In a minute..."

I furrowed my eyebrows at him. Another chuckle escaped him before he leaned forward and kissed me again. Once I realized why he was avoiding my question, my eyes fluttered shut.

And with each passing second, I could see myself accepting every ounce of danger that could possibly come after this moment.

All of it was worth it as long as I got to be with him.

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Author's Note: Not gonna lie, "Swimming" feels like it's the story that follows what was actually inspired by the song.

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[softtdaisy]

SATISFIED

DESCRIPTION I falling for peter is easy. letting him go when your sister fall in love with him too is harder.

PAIRING I tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

WORD COUNT I 3,4k

A/N I i quite like this story??? i was listening to hamilton soundtrack and satisfied has always been my favorite song so i thought why no write something around that?

WARNING I mention of sex, mention of an agression at the beginning

You went through hard times in your life. But nothing could ever beat watching the man you love getting married to your little sister.

You were on your first year of nursing school when you met Peter Parker. It was a night you could never forget, no matter how hard you tried.

During that year, you had taken a small apartment to be closer to your school. Meaning, you also had to get a part-time job to pay the rent. This explained why you were out at 11 p.m. on a Tuesday night, still wearing your waitress suit. You loved the dinner you were working at. You loved less how the customers could be so mean.

You were so absorbed by your phone, telling your little sister about the stupid customer that throw his beer at you, that you didn’t notice the man in front of you. Even if he was the guy, you were actually writing your text about. It was so dark that it wasn’t until you bumped into him that you realized you were not alone in the street.

“Shit, I’m so…oh.” You didn’t finish your sentence. You couldn’t after meeting those dark eyes. If a look could kill, your family would already be preparing your funeral. The grin on his face immediately told you that you were in a bad situation. You tried to escape it, “sorry, I’ll just…” but before you took a step forward, the man grabbed your wrist. So hard that his ring skinned you.

“I don’t think so, baby.” So, you were getting assaulted in the street simply because you had a big mouth?

When you tried to explain to your attacker and his friends that there were no fries anymore since the dinner was closing in a few minutes, they laughed. “Go make them yourself honey, that’s what you do as a woman, no?” Your mother always taught you that no man in the world had the right to treat you like shit. You thought she meant men that you were dating, which explained some of your breakups. But you learnt pretty early in life that she meant every single man.

“I don’t know, if we are on the cliché, does that mean that you’re good at…nothing?” You asked with a little smile. You weren’t surprised he didn’t appreciate your remark. You didn’t think he would throw his beer at you and start listing every single insult he knew. Before he got to start his list a third time, your boss evicted him. Something that, apparently, he didn’t appreciate either.

“You think I’m good at nothing, right?” you didn’t say anything. You were trying to think of a way to run away but as long as he was holding you, you wouldn’t be able to go anywhere. Not even a good punch in his balls would be enough. “Let me show you how wrong you are.” You knew where this was leading. Just the thought of it made you shiver. You closed your eyes instinctively, hoping that it would change something.

Somehow, it did.

Suddenly, the pressure on your wrist disappeared. And just did the man. You opened your eyes, trying to understand what was going on. It didn’t take you long to notice the red and blue suit next to you. “What makes you think you can mess with a single woman in the street dude? That’s not cool!”

You were torn between different feelings: being relieved that someone rescued you, being surprised to see Spider-man in front of you and being quite disappointing that you couldn’t save yourself alone. But that last one quickly disappeared when you remembered that were poor chances that you would be able to do that. So, you just stand there, watching Spidey taking care of that stupid man.

“Say you’re sorry.” He repeated every time, shooting a web somewhere on your assailant body to glue him to the wall every time he refused to apologize. Soon, you couldn’t see his body except for his face. Ugh, that stupid face. “Last chance buddy.” Spiderman’s hand was just in front of his mouth, ready to shut him up for good. You vaguely heard a sorry and when Spidey turned to you to see if it was good for you, you nodded. “I’m proud of you. You’re going to do great things big boy!” was the last thing you heard before Spiderman started going away.

You weren’t so sure about what happened.

So, you decided to follow Spiderman to make sure you didn’t dream.

You didn’t think you would be able to catch him. He was literally flying between building while you were running on the ground. But then you saw him, between two building in an empty hallway. That wasn’t even the most surprising part.

It was the fact he had taken off his mask. And you could perfectly see his beautiful face.

You leant against the wall, looking at the boy who was still clueless of your presence. Apparently, before he went to save you, he was on another case. Because there was no way he hurt himself playing with your assailant and he was clearly bleeding right now. “Maybe I should treat you to thank you for your service.” you sounded flirtier than you wanted. But facing this man, it was difficult not to try something.

Peter immediately jumped and grabbed his mask. Nobody was supposed to see his face. “I don’t know you, bug boy. I’m not going to say anything.” For some reason, he trusted you. He let you approach him and touched his arm with so much softness that he kind of wish you would never stop touching him.

At least you didn’t for the whole night. When you offered Peter to go to your place so you could deal with his wound, he didn’t hesitate. It was like he needed you, a distraction from this crazy life. You seemed attracted to him, which was new for single Peter. And from the moment he put his eyes on you in the street, he wanted to kiss you. There was something magnetic about you.

It was easily one of the best nights you ever had with a man. Maybe it was the way you knew nothing about each other and how eager you were to scream this man name when he was going inside you. Just like Peter could kill to know what to moan when your mouth went down on him.

Or maybe it was what Peter told you after another round. “You’re not a satisfied woman.” He was kissing your stomach slowly and felt your laugh against his mouth. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never been satisfied. I need more from life. You seem just like me. You’re not satisfied either.” For some reason, that made sense. You always felt like you were a spectator of your life rather than the main character. You never met anybody who managed to make you change that. You found it weird how Spider-man could feel like that. Maybe love meant more to him than you thought.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later than you met Peter again. For real, this time.

The hospital you were doing your internship in was hosting a sort of charity gala. Of course, you were invited and asked your little sister to come with you. Even if you were a happy loner, you hated being alone in those type of event.

Maybe you shouldn’t have brought her.

You immediately noticed Peter when he arrived there. He looked stunning, wearing a navy-blue shirt with a black pant. He looked kind of lost, and it was like your feet decided for you to go see him. Before you even notice, you were in front of him. “Nice to see you again, bug boy.”

Peter never thought he would see you again. He kept thinking about you, he even thought about going back to your place. But then he accepted that this night was just one perfect night. So, it was like a miracle for you to appear in front of his eyes like this. You looked like an angel. “I prefer Peter in public, it’s more discreet.”

“Then I guess you can call me [y/n]. But that doesn’t tell me what you’re doing here.” If Peter had a hard time talking with other people, he felt like an open book with you. You knew already a lot with his secret life, so it wasn’t like he could hide anything more. He talked to you about May, who you already knew. “She’s the best here! She’s like a second mom.” It made so much sense for you to get along with May. Like it was meant to be.

“I’m here with my sister…” you turned around to show her to Peter. And it struck you immediately.

You knew her perfectly. You were only a year older, so you were almost the same person. Every expression, every sound, every little thing she could do you knew what it meant. The look she was giving Peter told you everything: she had a love at first sight. How could you blame her?

From a young age, you promised you would always put your sister’s happiness first. For some reason, you thought she deserved more. You didn’t hesitate a single second and wave to her to come. “Peter, meet my sister Gwen.”

You left them alone to talk, which they did all night. At some point you caught looks from Peter, but you couldn’t do anything. Not after Gwen came to you when Peter was talking with May and thanked you for introducing each other. “He is amazing!” she sounded so happy and excited about this new thing that you had to let it all go.

Peter was hers now.

When Peter and Gwen started dating, you were avoiding them at first. Each time you were catching a glimpse of their love, you were suffering from falling for him. You never noticed how much you loved Peter until you wished he was kissing you instead of her. And you hated yourself for being jealous of your little sister. So you would rather not see them.

They had dated for a whole year before Gwen had to leave for England. When she had doubts about leaving, you convinced her that she had to put herself first. And the fact Peter had the same speech was helping. She would be away for a few months. This explained why she decided to take a break from her relationship with Peter, letting each other have fun individually. “Keep an eye on him” she told you at the airport. If only she knew how right she was…

Only a few weeks after she left, you saw Peter again. He came at your place at midnight, bleeding terribly. “Oh my god,” was the only thing you could say. It was until you started treating him that you realized the situation.

You forgot about your feelings, about how much you hated him for loving him so much. How much you hated yourself for letting these feelings grew. How sometimes, at night, you even hated on Gwen for loving him. How much you hated the universe for not letting you be the main character of your own life.

Or how good it felt to be close to Peter again.

“You shouldn’t be there…” you whispered, cleaning his wounds. You tried to focus on it to not think about Peter’s eyes on you. He was suffering like hell but he couldn’t stop looking at you. How perfect you looked, still like an angel that was saving his life one more time. Not that he was at death risk. But it felt like when he was with you, he was seeing colors he couldn’t notice with anyone else.

Peter slowly put his hand on your face to lift it up and force you to look at him. “I know” he was slowly closing the gap between your two faces to the point you could feel his breath against your lips. “But being wrong never felt more right…” he gave you one last look before kissing you.

For the first few seconds it was slow and sweet, like you were discovering each other again. Your hand got lost in his messy hair while his own hand slid on your neck to hold you. And then it changed. You sat on his laps, humping against his thighs. You were soon naked in front of him, letting his hands travel on your body. His kisses were like a fire that was burning your whole body. You almost wished you could have marks from this to remember this night.

To punish you for doing this with Peter.

“You’re killing me…” you moaned against Peter’s lips after he had finished inside you and left your body. You wanted more. You wanted this to never end. You wanted to feel his shaking fingers traveling all along your thighs forever. You wished you could record his little tired after sex laugh, the way his voice was broken could end you so easily. You watched him climb over your body one more time. “Let’s die together then.”

And you did. For weeks.

You didn’t feel very guilty about the whole situation. You knew Gwen was seeing other guys in England, enjoying her trip there as she should. And Peter knew too, otherwise he would never have invited himself in your bed.

But the day Gwen called you when Peter was at your place, you felt like a child who did a something bad. It felt like she knew. The more she was talking to you about everything she was doing there, the more you were looking at Peter sleeping next to you. You never felt worse about yourself. When she asked you if you had seen him, you shed a single tear. “No, I haven’t.”

When Peter woke up, you were already dressed. “You have to leave.” Was the only thing you told him before leaving the bedroom. Of course, he followed you, putting on his boxer to not argue naked. “What do you mean I have to leave?”

“We can’t do that, that’s not right!” you couldn’t even look at him because you knew you wouldn’t be able to resist. His tired face, his pouty pinky lips that are only asking to be kissed, his chest full of his scratches… A body full of evidences of your endless passionate night.

“That’s not what you were saying last night when you were on your knees.” He snapped. No matter how bad Peter knew this whole situation was, he never thought it would end like this. He imagined you would slow down as Gwen’s comeback was approaching. Not that you would freak out one morning, out of nowhere. Or what was out of nowhere for him.

“That’s not right for Gwen. She loves you, Peter.”

“And you don’t?”

You turned around to look at him. You knew exactly what he was excepting from you. What he excepted from the first night. To be honest with yourself. To put yourself first for once.

It was like two paths opened in front of your eyes. You could only follow one. And there would be no turning back. Either you admit your feelings for Peter. Or you let your sister be happy with the man she loved. Both were incompatible. Who deserved happiness? Who was going to suffer?

You knew the answer. You always did.

“No.” you simply said before going to the bathroom. You selfishly locked yourself there to avoid him. You silently started to cry while listening to Peter packing his stuff. If you were stronger, you would run to him and kiss him. Tell him how much your life is better when he is around. But you were not. You were simply a pawn in your little sister’s happiness. You promised your father you would take care of your family after he died. This meant that you would do everything to make Gwen life better. Even sacrifice your own.

You knew that Gwen would have done the same. If you had told her how much you loved Peter, she would let you date him. Without a single hesitation. That was how good she was. But it wasn’t her role. You were the big sister. You had to put her happiness first.

“I respect your choice.” You heard Peter said on the other side of the door. “But I was right. You will never be satisfied.”

When Gwen came back, they started dating again. It made perfect sense. That was what you thought. That was what Gwen kept saying too. That they were meant to be and thanks to you they got to meet. You were their own Cupid.

That was the nickname Gwen gave you at their engagement party.

And there you were today. Being Gwen’s maid of honor and witness at her wedding with Peter.

She was the most beautiful bride you had ever seen in your life. She looked like a pure angel. You put your hands on her shoulder, looking at the both of you in the mirror. “I can’t believe you’re getting married.” You were about to cry, again. She was your baby sister, the one you were taking care of when she was younger. And now she was an adult.

“Trust me, you’ll get there one day too.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Not my plan sweetie.” It wasn’t, but mostly because the only man you’d love to marry was already taken.

You’ve seen other people since your last time with Peter. But none of them made you feel like he did. You hated to admit he was right: you couldn’t be satisfied if it wasn’t with him. If you accepted that it might be true, you still hadn’t found the strength to look for someone who will never be the one.

“Peter asks if you can come see him.” She suddenly told you. Since they couldn’t see each other, they were texting all the time. You found it cute, especially because Gwen was glowing every time, she was getting a text from him. You didn’t say anything and changed rooms to meet Peter.

Saying he was handsome would be an understatement. He looked even better than you could have imagined to the point you were breathless in front of him for a few seconds. “What can I do for you?” you coldly asked. You were not in good terms, no matter how hard you both tried. You could still notice the way he was looking at you sometimes and you wished you could tell him off. But that would be pretty hypocritical considering you were looking at him just the same.

“I wanted to make sure everything was good between us.” You could tell how insecure he was about this meeting. His voice was shaking, just like his hands that he was playing with. You were both on a side of the room, like you couldn’t be too close without letting yourself be tempted to kiss each other. Or do even worse things. “’course” you replied, already ready to leave the room.

“I should have fought for you.”

His words echoed in the room. In your head too. It was as the world stopped and you almost accepted it. Thinking that maybe you could have him one last time before letting him go for good. But like it was planned, you heard Gwen’s laugh from the other room. You never had him in the first hand. It was too late to pretend you could get him back.

“No.” you turned to look at Peter. It felt just like the last time. A simple word breaking everything again. But you were stronger. You knew now that you would never be the starring role in your life or in Peter’s. “Gwen loves you. She would give her life for you. And I know you would do the same for her. What we had was…great, but not worth fighting for. She deserved to be happy. So please…please Peter, make her happy.”

You noticed Peter’s expression at each step bringing you closer to him. It was cold, almost lifeless. You slowly put a hand against his cheek and brushed it with tenderness. It would be the last time you would let yourself do that. After today, Peter will be nothing more than your sister’s husband. No more Spidey, no more bug boy, no more passionate lover. Just Peter.

You let yourself caress his lips one last time with your fingertips. He kissed it slowly and you felt it deep in your body. Maybe that was why your voice broke before you address him three last words.

“Make her satisfied.”

[alloftheimaginesblog]

A Little Longer {TASM!Peter Parker}

Plot: Sometimes all Peter Parker needs is a day in bed with you.

Character: Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield) x Plus Size Gender Neutral Reader

Notes: Just fluff. Pure fluff.

His alarm blared from the beside cabinet beside the bed and immediately, he hated everything and everyone (besides you, never you). He groaned loudly, pulling the duvet over and above his head hiding you both under it.

"You know it won't stop even if you hide," you mumbled groggily as Peter's harrumphing woke you up, well that and the now slightly muffled alarm.

Peter groaned loudly, throwing the covers off of the two of you and pressed the 'STOP' button on his phone. The alarm went silent. He fell back into bed, rolling over and pulling you into his embrace, "Time?" You mumbled against his chest. You loved the feeling of pressing your face into his toned chest, cheek pressed against his warm, soft skin. Peter wrapped his muscular arms around you, covering you with his warmth as you intertwined your legs together, fully tangled in each other's limbs. You didn't mind anymore that his hands were resting on your side right where your fat rolls were. You'd long since gotten accustomed to Pete's touches. As a plus size person, you'd always shoved your partner's hands away from your stomach and sides but now? Now you liked having Pete's large hands all over your stomach and sides. Of course he never minded that you were plus size, he genuinely couldn't care less about your weight and your size but he loved your body. He loved how soft and warm you were, loved the way your tummy looked in your clothes. He just loved you. Mornings like this were your favourite. You loved waking up to him, loved the morning cuddles he gave you and the way his hair was tousled in the mornings. It was perfect.

"Doesn't matter," he muttered, yawning into your hair, "back to sleep."

You shook your head, "Got that thing with Aunt May at ten and then got lunch with-"

"No."

"Pete-"

He pulled back so that you could look into his eyes and you noticed how tired he was. He had purple bags under his eyes and he just looked exhausted. The cuts and bruises on the side of his face were healing and he had gone through a lot in the last week, "Please," he said, eyes begging you. Quickly, you nodded as you realised that this wasn't a case of him just being lazy, he needed you; he needed bed, he needed comfort and nothing else. Peter always took on way too much and he would always need a few days of just nothing and today happened to be one of those days.

"Okay," you whispered, hand gently caressing his cheek. Peter moved into your touch, relishing in the way it made him feel. He reminded you of a lost puppy when he had days like this, he just needed cuddles, tenderness and lots and lots of love and of course you would so happily give it to him, "I'll cancel everything, no worries, okay? It's alright."

Peter nodded against your hand, giving it a small delicate kiss, "Thank you, sweetheart," he murmured as he pulled you back into his chest, "I just really need you today."

"I know, love," you said as you kissed his chest, "you've got me all day, I promise." Your heart ached for him on days like this; days where he was sad and lost and where the ghosts of his past haunted him. Peter was always taking on too much and sometimes it took its toll on him. He always made the effort to make you and everyone else around him feel good so today it was your turn to do that for him. You'd lie with him in bed all day if he wanted, only getting up to make food or to pee. You'd spend forever doing this for him if that's what he needed. He always did so much and now it was his turn to just take a break and recharge his batteries.

"I love you," he whispered through a yawn.

"I love you, too."

It wasn't long before he was snoring softly. You pulled back to look at him. He looked a lot younger when he was sleeping, the worry lines faded and his mind was clearer. You'd let him sleep for as long as he needed, he deserved it. Your hands traced his face gently, careful not to wake him, for a while before you settled back into his arms and followed him into the land of dreams.

[rowniebow]

⭒ requests are closed! ⭒

here are my boundaries for when they open:

i write for gender neutral and male readers!

currently, i write about: ⭒ peter parker (tom and andrew's (sorry tobey luvrs)) ⭒ newt scamander ⭒ matt murdock ⭒ steve harrington

but i am always happy to hear suggestions for other characters

i am currently NOT taking smut requests. if you sent one in previously but haven't seen it published, i promise i'm working on it! smut and other 18+ content is something that takes me a while to do, apologies.

i do NOT write about: ⭒ real people ⭒ underage/aged up characters ⭒ incestual based content

this list will change and grow as i think of more things but this is my baseline as of now!

stay safe

[vivwritesfics]

"I Know"

Peter Parker has the best girlfriend ever

1.1K

Peter Parker x Reader

I've been MIA for the longest time because the inspo just hasn't been there. But I've gotten away from university for a few days, and this is what came from my peaceful time alone

"I'm so sorry, baby," said Peter. He stood on top of a building, watching a bank robbery happening opposite. A bag full of snacks and two pairs of his favourite pyjamas lay discarded beside him, and Peter made a mental note to pick it up later. The wind was biting, but Peter didn’t care. His attention was split evenly between his girlfriend and the bank robbery.

This was not the first time he had flaked on date night, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. He and his girlfriend both knew. But Peter Parker had the most understanding girlfriend in the world.

"It's okay, Pete," she said. Peter could picture her now, snuggled up in her bed, waiting to change into a pair of his pyjamas, with her snack basket filled and her laptop loaded up with a Christmas movie. "Go... save the world."

It wasn't quite saving the world, but she made Peter smile. She always made Peter smile. Y/N was the most understanding person in the world. "I'll be at yours as soon as I can. Don't open the chocolate without me."

After that, Peter had no choice but to hang up. The bank robbery had started to wrap up and Peter had to stop them. He put his phone in his bag, pulled his mask over his face, and swung down to the bank. "You guys have ruined my date night."

“What the fuck?” One of the bank robbers dropped his white bag filled with green notes and swung a bat at Peter.

It was cartoon-y, how these robbers were behaving. The white bags, the notes flying all over the place. Their ski masks weren’t masks at all, but unfolded beanies with the eyeholes cut out. “Wait, can I get a picture? My girlfriend is going to love this.”

***

Y/N’s family loved Peter. Somehow, he’d never been late to dinner with her parents. Either criminals decided to take the day off, to let Peter have his dinner, or for once somebody else was cleaning up the city in his stead.

But not tonight.

“I’ll be maybe ten minutes late,” he said as he swung through the city. His suit was discarded, but his tie was still around his neck.

Y/N had her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she put in a pair of earrings. Dinners like these were a big deal to her parents. The whole family dressed up fancy, all of her sibling’s partners were invited and they had at least three courses. “Pete, babe, it’s fine. I’ll cover you.” And, as she said it, she didn’t sound disappointed at all.

Peter really had the best girlfriend in the world. “Holy shit, I love you,” he said, only just noticing his tie. But it was too late to remove it now. “Please send me the cover story.”

They said their goodbyes (with Y/N begging him to stay safe) and went to do their things. Peter fought the bad guy, managing to keep his rather expensive tie intact. Y/N finished getting dressed for dinner and went downstairs to greet her parents.

Her siblings and their partners were already downstairs, drinks in their hands.

“There she is!” Called her brother as Y/N stepped into the room. He checked his watch and feigned a frown. “Not like that boyfriend of yours to be late, is it?”

With her hands clasped behind her back, Y/N rocked on her heels. “Actually, Peters gonna be late today,” she said, hoping they weren’t going to ask anymore questions.

“That Parker boy is never late,” her father said, “What’s holding him up?”

Before now, Y/N hadn’t thought of an excuse for Peter. She had just hoped they wouldn’t ask, and then he could’ve come up with his own backstory. (Peter had gotten good at that).

“Uhh…His house… caught fire? And his aunt… is in the hospital… with death?” oh yeah no this was not going well. “Oh! And the tire on his bike popped.”

Yes. That was very believable.

But nobody questioned it as Y/N sat beside her sister and her sister’s girlfriend. “He’ll be here soon.”

Her eyes shifted to the floor, which only made everything more believable. She pulled out her phone and sent Peter the cover story, just seconds before the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” She shouted, jumping up.

Racing to the front door, Y/N pulled it open to see Peter stood there, still sorting out his suit. “You are so lucky nobody else answered the door,” she said and buttoned up his shirt correctly. “I sent you over the cover story,” she whispered and kissed his cheek.

Pulling him into the house, Y/N pushed him towards her father. “Hello, Mr L/N! Sorry, I’m late, my tire burst.”

Suddenly, Y/N’s mother came running out of the kitchen. “Peter, my dear!” She shouted and pulled him in for a hug. “I’m so sorry to hear about May and your house. You can stay here for as long as you need!” She cried, running her fingers through her hair. He looked at Y/N with her brows furrowed. ‘Go with it’, she mimed. “How about we all go and visit May as soon as we’re finished with dinner?”

“Oh! Please, Mrs L/N. That’s not necessary.” Peter pulled away from his girlfriend’s mother and grabbed Y/N’s hand. “Can I have a word with you upstairs?” He asked her, and Y/N allowed herself to be pulled up to her bedroom.

As soon as the door was shut Y/N was wrapped around him. “I missed you,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Missed me so much you told your family that May was in the hospital?”

“And that your house burnt down,” she said quietly, laying her head on his chest. “I know I said I’d cover for you, but I’m not very good at it, Pete.” Her arms snaked around his middle, sitting beneath his blazer.

Peter’s phone suddenly buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and frowned once he looked at it. “Oh god, what is it?” Asked Y/N, looking up at Peter with wide eyes.

“Baby, I love you but, I’ve got to go. I swear this’ll-”

“It’s okay, Peter, I know.”

Peter kissed her. It was slow, yet oh so intense. One of those kisses that makes you gasp. “I have the best girlfriend in the world.”

[alwaysmoncheri]

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

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

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

<3

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

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

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

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

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

“But–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh whatev—hmph!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<3

masterlist . tasm!peter parker masterlist . taglist

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

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

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

[irndad]

TULIP WITH THE GUY EVER

this is for peter!! im feral for this man my god this is long for nothing happening- guys i am SO fucking rusty prompt: an act of affection so blatant everyone notices roommate!peter &lt;;3 flower prompts

It’s hard not to look at her. 

There’s so much to observe, so much to place his attention on- how she smiles, the way she taps the sides of her mugs before she sips her tea. She’s a vision in red lipstick and he’s the kind of person that’s blessed to be in her presence. 

It’s a Friday night, and there’s a sweet sort way that she curls into herself. She’s been his friend for just about a minute longer than he’s been in love with her, and he’d like to think he does a decent job at hiding this fact.

He landed on his hip today, from a height far enough off the ground that it still hurts, pain radiating from every step as he walks home. The commute is actually quite far from his internship at the newspaper, but he likes the area he lives, and the woman whose company he keeps while he lives there. He makes concessions. 

Still, he’d been looking forward to the sight of her since the ache began. Her presence had a way of soothing. 

She’s curled up onto an inherited recliner in their shared apartment, and when he bursts their creaky door open in a fluid motion, he’s greeted with this sight. She’s not alone- some friends from her graduate program on their Ikea couch. 

It’s girls night, and it’s his dutiful role to say a quick quip and head back to his room. Her two best friends are over, legs splayed over each other in an open display of affection that he adores witnessing. He could hear the laughter and yelling from outside the apartment itself. He likes how they make her laugh, how they seem to make her heart lighter when he can tell she’s not able to carry the weight of everything by herself. 

“Peter!” She’s the first to even notice he’s around, and he tries not to let the stubborn firework in his chest keep exploding at the thought of it. At the thought, she sees me. Her voice is warm and kind and weightless, and he drinks in  the sight of her. Their floor lamp illuminates her in warm golden light, a coupe glass with red wine held in delicate fingers. 

“Hey, you,” he replies, an unmistakable warmth he can’t seem to rid himself of in his tone. He tries not to seem disappointed, like he’d not been imagining watching an irrelevant TV show, a little too close together until they’d fallen asleep just that way.

As he’s hanging his withered coat, he asks, “What are you guys up to tonight?”

Her friend explains that they are watching the Spy Kids trilogy in order, and she nods dutifully along. 

“That sounds wonderful,” he can’t help but laugh. “I’ll leave you guys be-“ 

And it’s no surprise, when they send a him a chorus of please join, and you’re welcome to be here! 

She stands up to give him a hug goodnight (because she wants to kill him), and he envelops her before he can stop himself. She smells like a mixture of lavender and rose and sweet red wine, and he’s grateful for his heightened senses for a moment; it doesn’t take long to memorize it all. 

It occurs to him that he won’t see her until morning, and he takes in the sight of her again, eyes raking over her. She really is beautiful- lovely in a way that radiates her smile, follows her in action. His hands rest on the curve of her waist, and something and things being made to fit one another cross his mind, against his better judgement. God, he could spend forever looking at her, longer touching her. 

He only pulls away when he hears a muffled pair of laughs, failed attempts at not interrupting a moment. Which is absurd, because there is no moment. None. 

She beams at him despite the laughter of those she holds dear, and it aches saying goodbye to her. She's just down the hall and it hurts to leave.

He slinks off to his bedroom smelling like her perfume, blushing bright red and maybe, just maybe, the tiniest bit hopeful. And he thinks he might of heard the faint whisper of two other people, whispering questions he mulls over every day.

"Just roommates, huh?"

[luveline]

Can I request just Peter and shy!reader cuddling and stuff after a long day (after r having a long day or after peters spidey stuff whichever) ❤️

thank you for your request! tasm!peter parker x fem!reader, 1k

It feels like Peter's been gone for a long, long time when he finally comes home. Hair whipped every which way from swinging, his cheeks kissed by cold, nose bitten and pink, he drops his keys by the door and sweeps you up into his impossibly strong arms. 

You'd usually laugh at the sudden weightlessness, but his touch summons a lump in your throat, the thrumming feeling of missing him alive and in your hands. You work them around his shoulders. 

"You had a bad day?" he asks. You don't know how he knows, but he does. 

"I just needed to see you," you say, embarrassed by the strength of your feelings. 

Peter walks you backwards and you do laugh, then, the rigidness of your emotion warmed into softness by his arms around you and his easy smile. Peter dunks you down onto your L-shaped couch so you're flat on your back with your legs propped up and isn't shy about laying on top of you, the firm muscle of his thigh slotting between your softer ones, his hands moving to frame your face. 

He holds your cheeks for a second, decides he actually can't deal with the weight of his bag still on his shoulders or the jacket that haphazardly hides his suit and shrugs both off, and then holds your face again. 

"You're warm," he says. 

"You're cold," you say, turning your cheek into his hand, your head smushed up against the couch cushions. 

You close your eyes as he gets comfortable, content to spend long, slow minutes in the sanctuary of his arms, knowing he'll let you stay here however long you need to. You think you could commit to the couch for the remainder of your life and Peter would spend the rest of his days bringing you trinkets and offering to give you sponge baths. It's a preposterous thought based on an absolute truth; Peter would do anything for you. You'd do anything for him. 

You curl your arms around the broad, muscled stretch of his back, fingertips tripping over the wrinkles in his shirt, nose sniffing indulgently at his hair. 

"I needed to see you, too," he says into your neck. He speaks quietly, but not for the sake of any concerns. There's no need for privacy, and no shame in the admission. "Day's perfect now."

It's such a him thing to say. 

After another handful of quiet minutes, Peter works it around so he's the one being weighed down, squeezing between you and the couch armrest and easing you effortlessly onto his chest. You throw a leg over his thigh, curl an arm around his waist. He's not as cold anymore, but you rub his arm in a steadying back and forth until you've made your way to his fingers. They're still pretty cold —you pull his hand to your mouth and blow warm air at his fingertips until they're pink rather than blue.

Peter noses your hairline affectionately. "You're quiet today. More than usual," he says. "Should I be concerned?" 

"No," you murmur, rubbing his knuckles against your forehead for no good reason. It feels nice. After less than half a second, he does it of his own accord. 

Peter pushes your head back gently and starts to kiss you. Your forehead from end to end, the bridge of your nose, the tip. You shiver happily at the feeling and tilt your chin up for a proper kiss, though that happiness quickly melds to embarrassment when he laughs against your lips. I know what you want, his laugh says.

And even though he's right, even though it's obvious, it's raw to be caught wanting. He knows how much you want him in any and all capacity, and that's scary. 

You'd pull away if you thought Peter didn't know how you felt; you trust him completely. He can kiss you sick, for all you care. 

Peter doesn't kiss you for long, resting his forehead against your jaw, hand at the back of your neck to hold you where he wants you.

"Put your head back," he murmurs, faux-thoughtful, "I wanna give you a better kiss." 

"You want to give me a bruise," you murmur back. 

He dips in to kiss your neck softly. "Not true," he says, his bottom lip tickling you as he exhales. 

You lean back and raise your shoulder to push him away. You trust him, you love him, but if he gives you a hickey tonight you won't be able to look at him without a hot flush. You're too tired for anything amorous. 

Peter doesn't hold it against you. If anything, he does the opposite, rubbing your aching shoulders with a big, flat palm, like he's saying sorry. It's unnecessary. 

"I love you," you say. 

"I know," he says, giving you a short pat between shoulder blades. "Not as much as I love you, though, don't get it twisted." 

"I'm not getting anything twisted." 

"No?" Peter pulls you up his chest and turns his head so you can look at each other comfortably, no craned necks up or down. "Feels like you are. You think you love me more, which is scientifically improbable." 

"I didn't say that." 

"It felt like you said that." 

"I didn't say that." You glare at one another. The glares don't last long. 

You dive in for another hug, Peter tightening his grip around your waist, forearms up your back and locking you in. "This is nice," you say. 

"For you. My arm is dead." 

You giggle and shift further on top of him to alleviate the pressure on his arm. He groans like you're his very worst ailment, but when he kisses your head it's so tender you'd bet money that it left a mark, a physical actualisation of his affection. 

"Better?" he asks. 

You know what he's asking without further explanation. Do you feel better now? 

You nod against his neck, thinking you might just fall asleep in his arms. 

[literaila]

the waiter

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: 

"the waiter was flirting with you"  

"what?"

"he couldn't stop staring at you. i thought his eyes were going to fall out of his head." 

warnings: pure fluff, baby. 

"hey," peter whispers to you, a bit urgently. 

you don't look up from your menu, thinking fanciful thoughts of bankrupting peter. "hmm?" 

"we have to go." 

you look up, frowning. 

peter's got an urgent look on his face. his frown matches yours. 

if he didn't look so disturbed you might take the moment to appreciate the shirt he's wearing, sleeves rolled up past his forearm. you might even stare a little bit. 

but peter is frowning. and there is something wrong. 

"what?" you ask him, looking around. "what's going on?" 

"we have to leave." 

peter does not elaborate any further, because why would he? 

"okay..." you drawl, blinking at him. "why?" 

you look out the window to your left for any incoming disasters. if there was a possibility that anyone in this restaurant were to get hurt, you're sure peter wouldn't be just sitting there, waiting to have a conversation about death. 

but there's no monster outside. no robberies. no impending doom that he might need to tend to. 

your brow furrows even deeper. you stare at him, expectant. 

"the waiter was flirting with you," peter mutters, casting a glance toward the man on the other side of the restaurant. 

the man who you thought was perfectly pleasant, thank you very much. 

"what?" 

"he couldn't stop staring at you. i thought his eyes were going to fall out of his head." 

you snort, a bit confused. "peter," you say, a strange sort of smile on your face. "what?" 

"if i have to watch him drool all over you again, i might spontaneously combust."  

you close your menu, staring at him. 

"i'm serious, babe, we have to go." 

"we already ordered bread. and drinks." 

"i'll pay triple however much that cost. the waiter gets no tip," peter furrows his brows, considering. "okay, fine. he gets fifteen percent." 

"how chivalrous." 

"baby," peter whines, like a child. you might find it a little bit cute. "please? i'm having a hard enough time already." 

"what?" you frown. "why?" 

he blinks at you. does a slow up and down your body, raising his eyebrows. 

you think back to hands that had lingered on every inch of skin they could find on the way there. about eyes that could've burned you to the core. 

"oh," you cross your arms, self-conscious. "i thought you were kidding earlier when you said that--" 

peter stares at you blankly. 

"okay. not kidding."

his head drops down to the table, and if not for his muffled voice you might hear him groan. 

"leaf pile," you coo, softly. "i think it'll be alright. i'll even hold your hand when he comes back over." 

peter does not budge at the nickname, but you snicker internally, reaching a hand out to mess up his hair. 

he sits up, fixing it with a frown--as if it's at all salvageable. 

"is this what we've come to?" peter asks you, shaking his head. "you have to bribe me with affection? you only want to hold my hand to turn away the poor waiter--" 

"it's always been like this." 

peter points a finger at you. "not true." 

you scoff. "on our first date you tried to get me to stay up all night so we could watch the sunset--" 

"--that would've been romantic." 

"--and i had to bribe you with a goodnight kiss. just so you would let me go home." 

peter smiles like he's still pleased with himself. "you didn't want to leave. i was trying to help." 

"you just wanted to make out on the subway." 

"that's disgusting," peter says, looking away from you finally. his menu is still open, on the table, waiting to be looked at. "we could go to the diner across from your apartment."

"we went there last week." 

"great service," peter says, nonchalantly. 

"this is supposed to be a fancy date, peter." 

"what's fancier than sharing a milkshake?" 

"crème brûlée." 

peter purses his lips, a hand going to scratch at his lips. there are about ten seconds of silence. 

you use it to stare at him and wonder how he could possibly feel intimidated by anyone else. 

"fine," peter says, "we'll order dessert to go. and then we'll go get pizza." 

you open your mouth. close it. 

"you like pizza," peter reassures you. 

"i also like having a nice dinner with my boyfriend." 

"that can be arranged." 

you sigh. "even if we order dessert to go, we'll still have to talk to david again." 

peter gawks at you. "you know his name?" 

"he literally introduced himself. it was the first thing he said." 

"you remembered his name?" 

you wave a hand. "peter. you don't need to be jealous. maybe he just saw something on my face." 

peter sits back and crosses his arms. he raises an eyebrow at you, to which you smile back innocently. 

he says i know what you're doing without the words. 

"there's nothing on your face," peter says, dryly. "besides pure perfection." 

you giggle. 

peter runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "you're right," he relents, sighing. 

"it's okay, baby, like i said--" 

"it doesn't matter where we go," peter interrupts. "everyone's going to stare at you anyway." 

"...not where i was going with that." 

"i guess i just need to accept reality." 

"i don't think--" 

"i mean," peter finally looks you right in the eye, a hint of a smile playing on his face. "how lucky am i?" 

your face goes blank, for just a moment. 

and then, completely despite yourself, you smile at him, skin tingling at the intensity of his stare. 

of his teasing and gentle laughter as he smiles back. 

and, really, it's not your fault that you have to lean across the table to kiss him. 

he's just so goddamn irresistible. 

after a couple of seconds--and an ahem from the table beside you--you sit back down, opening your menu once again. you smile while you try and decide what to eat. 

and try to come up with the perfect way to get peter back for all of that. you've gotten as far as thanking the waiter profusely when he comes back. 

it's only a minute later when he whispers to you: 

"can i at least order the most complicated thing on the menu just to mess with him?" 

*

my masterlist here.

tags: @moonlarking-blog​​ @v1ci0us​​ @preciousbabypeter​​ @alexxavicry​​ @directioner5life​​ @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah​​ @localrockstargf​​  

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Theoretically ~ P.P.

A/n: And another request!!

Request: “Male reader x Andrew Pete, After a long day of thinking about it and wondering if he and Peter were ready, reader proposes?” By anon

Word Count: 1800+

MASTERLIST

It had started slowly, but Y/n had realized after it had been going on for a while so it had felt sudden and startling.

First there had been the exact moment kisses between them had become casual. They weren't startling and didn't make him jump, heart racing. Peter would be on his way out the door and would say goodbye, leaving a kiss on Y/n's mouth very quickly before dipping. And that felt right. He'd sink into the feeling, his chest warm, but it wasn't buzzing and burning like it used to be.

Then it was the increased PDA. Peter had always been repressed and reserved, hating attention and confrontation unless he had his mask on. But they'd gotten slowly into the habit of having little to no personal space, and being generally touchy. One day, Peter didn't take Y/n's hand just "to show him something" and then drop it when someone looked over. Another day Y/n stared lovingly as long as he wanted and Peter never made a joke about it. After that, Peter lay his head on Y/n's shoulder on the subway and sighed, relaxed. When they kissed, grinning, on the side walk waiting for the light to change for them Y/n knew it was okay to do that more often.

Those were followed by the casual way Peter referred to Y/n as his boyfriend. Even spoke about "his boyfriend." Before he'd said "partner," brushing it away that he was dating someone of the same gender. He wouldn't use Y/n's name even when people knew who he was talking about. And then one day he introduced Y/n as his boyfriend - something he'd heard later from MJ.

The day it clicked was when Peter got caught up in an especially rough back and forth with Doc Oc, who had kidnapped Y/n in an attempt to hurt Peter. It wasn't the first time it had happened, and the panic afterward had been tangible, but Peter didn't implode like he so often had. He was focused on Y/n, tending to him and reassuring him he was safe. And he didn't blame himself or hate on himself or push Y/n away. It was... startling, honestly, when Peter wrapped around him instead and whispered a simple, "I'm sorry this Spider-Man stuff caught up to you."

Y/n ran his hands through his boyfriend's hair, and realized that he was home to Peter, the same way Peter was home to him. That they couldn't have denied each other even if they wanted to. Even if they'd have tried. They both knew it.

And he smiled, realizing that maybe they hadn't said it yet, but this probably meant they were in love after all. And they'd been in love for a while, so much more than a young romance. They'd be together for a very long time.

"I knew what I was getting into, Peter," he reassured softly. "I know we'll always figure it out. Together." He sighed. "Plus, now you know how I feel every day."

Peter nodded. "That's fair."  And that was it. No argument, no anger, no spiral.

The confession of love had followed soon after.

When Y/n got a succulent and Peter started calling it Jimmy, and referring to them as Jimmy's dad, something settled deeply into Y/n's chest. He wanted to do this forever. He wanted to be with Peter for the rest of his life.

That was a terrifying thought.

Peter had been getting better. A little more grounded, and much more experienced. Every day he was softer with himself. Every day he opened up more, and let Y/n help when he could. Every day he smiled more, laughed more. Every day he showed Y/n off more, being proud they were together and being loud about it too. They moved in together, and after that everything was theirs - not individually Peter's or Y/n's. Like they never had to worry about moving out or going separate ways or breaking up. Like this space was theirs and it always would be, even it it was a different space.

It was the teasing look in May's eyes as she grinned at Y/n over the cup of tea she was drinking that was the last straw. She put her cup down and in a gentle voice, began, "You want to ask me something?"

Y/n blushed. "You saw through me then."

May raised an eyebrow, her smile teasing. "In the years you've been with Peter, your worst fear as been time and again proved to be imposing on me. You only ever come by when I invite you, with Peter, or explicitly to help with something. I've never seen you ask to come over completely unprompted with nothing else in mind but spending time together." She leans back in her chair. "Not that I'm complaining."

Rubbing the back of his neck, he got sheepish. "I'm sorry May. I don't mean to be around so little."

She waves her hand back and forth, and if to scatter the words in the air. "Don't he silly. I don't take it personally. You should come over more often though." She took another sip of her drink. "But that's not what you're here to talk about."

Y/n swallows hard, interlacing his fingers so he can hold onto something as he begins. "You know Peter so well," he began. May nodded; Y/n had come to her asking advice several times now. "I was thinking... maybe..." He cleared his throat, nervous. Once he said this to May it was in stone. Was he ready? Was Peter? "Do you think Peter is the marriage type?"

May froze, eyes wide. Y/n went solid and still as stone, only breathing again when May's shock flipped to glee. "You're thinking of proposing."

Okay. This was a good sign. "I was thinking about it," Y/n said slowly. "But I don't know if Peter would... want to. Or if it's too soon. Or if there's too much going on already with the whole Spider-Man thing." He shrugged, running his hand through his hair.

May nodded again, mulling Y/n's concern over. Every day Y/n thanked god she actually considered things rather than just jumping to "I want to see my boy married" like some aunts had before. It was a relief to know he could trust what she would say next.

"Have you talked to him about it?"

And sometimes Y/n wished she wasn't quite so good at what she did.

"Well-"

May cocked an eyebrow, her expression turning into something akin to 'you know what I'm going to say.' And it was true. Y/n did. He let her say it anyway. "I can't speak for my nephew, Y/n."

"I know," he sighed. "But I don't want to go in blind or jump the gun or scare him away-"

May chuckled. "That boy has seen more than I could even imagine." She paused for a second. "Normal things do scare him more than any villain in a suit could. But he's better about it than he used to be. And if you eased him into it, or took your shot, and we're ready for some possible rejection and not take it personally, it could be fine."

And there it was. The real reason Y/n was stressed. Because sure, Peter might not be ready, but if he wasn't and he ran and Y/n was crushed it could lead to the end of their relationship. They could both react very poorly...

This would mean Y/n would have to do it somewhere privately. It would have to be very low pressure, open minded. Understanding. Gentle. And it was a little heartbreaking that was the case. Y/n wanted to be a little loud, a little dramatic. And he would have to let that go.

May reached over, taking Y/n's hand. "It also doesn't have to be now. It should be when you're ready. The moment will come, and you'll know. You should only do it then." Her gaze was so soft and patient that Y/n could only absorb what she was saying directly into his soul. "Don't try to make a perfect moment. Let one come."

That advice stayed with Y/n until the moment came. He thought it had a few times but then it wouldn't quite pan out, or something would interrupt them or they'd need to stopper what they were doing and table it for later - when they moment was gone. But one day they were laying in bed, out of breath and grinning after Peter had stolen Y/n’s favorite jacket and Y/n had tried to take it back by force. Peter was much stronger than Y/n of course, and had plenty abilities to overwhelm him, but decided to play fair and shenanigans had turned into raucous laughter that had stolen both of their breath away.

Y/n looked at Peter and something warm and sweet touch him. May’s words came back to him full force in that moment and he was stunned to realize-

This was the moment.

“Will you marry me?” Peter turned, eyes wide, and immediately Y/n panicked. “Maybe not know. We don’t have to say now. But maybe one day.” His voice got dry when suddenly Peter took him by the face, kissing him.

The kiss was king and deep and passionate. Y/n felt something wet ion his cheek and realized Peter was crying.

When it ended, Peter pressed their foreheads together. “You’ve been so patient with me. I know you have. I know I’m not… easy. But I’m yours, and that was always enough for you.” He chuckled, seeming near giddy. Y/n felt his throat close with how much hope swelled in his chest. “I would love to maybe you. We can figure exactly when and how. Is that okay? If we don’t know exactly when?”

Y/n melted, raising a hand to run over Peter’s jaw. “I would marry you anywhere, any day, in any way that we could muster. Even if no one was there. Even if no one knew.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “You cheese ball.”

“Your cheese ball.” Y/n beamed. “For the rest of our lives?” It was timid, hopeful.

Peter sighed. “For the rest of our lives.”

Neither would ask more than that.

-

Male Readers: @ravenpuff-oli @sortzz @fadedver

[bi-bard]

Oh No, I'm Falling in Love - Peter Parker Imagine (The Amazing Spider-Man)

Title: Oh No, I'm Falling in Love

Pairing: Peter Parker X Reader

Based On: Labyrinth

Word Count: 2,109 words

Warning(s): mention of death, fear of commitment/relationship, grief

Summary: After losing Gwen, Peter expected to be on his own for a very long time. (Y/n) accidentally proves him very wrong.

Author's Note: We've had a good amount of not-so-happy imagines during this writing challenge... let's have one with a happy ending, shall we?

MIDNIGHTS - TAYLOR SWIFT WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

------------------------

Peter had decided that meeting (Y/n) felt more like a shock to the system than anything.

After everything that happened... After losing Gwen, he shut down for a while.

He pulled away from the remaining people around him. He constantly felt like there was this ball of anger in his stomach. He was more violent. Less controlled.

He was losing sight of why he had become Spider-Man in the first place.

In all honesty, he would never have reached out to (Y/n) on his own. He would've seen them in passing, maybe wondered about the person who seemed extra happy while waiting for their coffee that morning for a matter of minutes before dismissing them entirely. He would've stayed in his cloud that had so easily changed his perception of the world.

But (Y/n) seemed dedicated to keeping that from happening.

They had tried to contain their excitement. Let it sit with them until they could go and call a friend or a family member or something. But in the matter of minutes that it took for their coffee to be finished, their excitement had overwhelmed them. They needed to tell someone.

"Sorry," they turned to Peter, who was clearly exhausted and out of it. (Y/n) paid no mind to that. "I just need to say this to someone. I just got a promotion."

Peter blinked at them, overwhelmed by the person's cheeriness for a moment.

He finally muttered out a response, "Congratulations."

"Thanks," they replied, smile not dimming for a moment. They held out their hand for him to shake. "(Y/n)."

"Peter," he shook their hand and forced a grin. He assumed that this would be the only time that he'd see them.

"Nice to meet you, Peter."

Before he could respond with some kind of forced politeness, (Y/n)'s name was called from the counter. They waved to him and went to grab their drink.

Peter waved back. He wasn't quite sure why. He could've easily nodded or ignored it. But he didn't.

He shrugged the interaction off.

Until the next day... when (Y/n) was there again.

They waved at him as he walked over to wait for his drink. He nodded back and stood next to them, feeling like it would've been rude to try and avoid them now.

The pair made slightly awkward small talk for a few minutes before (Y/n)'s name was called. They left with a wave... that Peter found himself returning again.

The pattern continued for days. Weeks.

They would walk into the coffee shop around the same time, talk while waiting for one of their names to be called, and then part for the day.

(Y/n) would be lying if they acted like they didn't find Peter attractive. He was nice and funny. His looks were a nice bonus, but he was just generally a nice person to talk to.

Peter, on the other hand, was confused.

He felt the beginning of a crush forming. He knew the signs. But he didn't know what to do about them. He wanted to ignore them. To act like (Y/n) didn't matter to him at all. But he couldn't.

Every moment he spent thinking about (Y/n) was met with a moment of guilt. He felt wrong for starting to get feelings for someone else. It felt disrespectful to Gwen.

He just couldn't shake it.

He liked seeing (Y/n) in the mornings. He liked talking with them.

One day, (Y/n) wasn't there when he got his drink and he found himself feeling disappointed. The feeling shocked him. How far had the silly crush gone without him even realizing it?

It took weeks for Peter to accept that his feelings existed.

It took another number of weeks for him to even consider acting on them.

(Y/n) had this tendency to go get coffee on their day off and then sit in the shop to enjoy it. They would read or sit and scribble things into a notebook.

They would wave at Peter like they usually did. He would usually wave back, but walk out after getting his drink.

And then, one day, he didn't.

He grabbed his drink and walked over to the table where (Y/n) was sitting.

"May I," he asked.

(Y/n) looked at him in shock for a moment before nodding and motioning to the other seat with their hand.

He sat across from them and grinned.

The small talk started like it always did. Except there wasn't a time limit this time. They both had all the time in the world to sit and talk.

Peter took a deep breath as he held onto the now-empty coffee cup.

The talk had died down for a moment. He knew that if he was going to do anything about these feelings, then he needed to do it now.

"Do you wanna go to a movie," he asked. (Y/n) didn't have time to answer him before his rambling started. "As a date, I mean. And it doesn't have to be a movie. We can do whatever you want, really. And you can say no-"

"I'd like that," they cut him off.

"Really?"

They nodded. "A movie sounds great."

Peter left the coffee shop that say with (Y/n)'s number in his phone and a date set.

He had mixed emotions. He was happy they said yes. But he was nervous because this was his first date in a while. He was still feeling that small pull of guilt, but he tried to shake it off by thinking about how much he was looking forward to getting to spend more time with (Y/n).

The date itself was nice.

Peter met (Y/n) at their place, eyes scanning the names on the little buzzers outside the door as he waited for them to make their way downstairs.

The two of them walked together, making kind conversation. (Y/n) had apparently been looking forward to the movie they were seeing and was happy to not be going alone.

The movie was quiet. (Y/n) had reached over to hold Peter's hand. It was nice. They had just kind of lazily tangled their fingers with his, nervous about going too far for him. When he didn't move away from them, they felt this little pang of relief in their chest.

Peter didn't. When their hands met, the guilt came back. Except now, the guilt wasn't only focused on potential disrespect to Gwen's memory, but also to (Y/n). He felt like he had led them on. Maybe he wasn't ready for this. Maybe he was just moving too fast. Had he been spending weeks just dragging this poor person through his uncertainty just to play with their feelings?

He couldn't do that.

The pair walked home quietly. (Y/n) tried to make conversation. Peter tried to engage, but all of his responses were short and forced. He was so stuck in his thoughts.

"(Y/n)," he called as they walked to their door. They had only made it a few steps away from him. He probably didn't need to say their name as loud as he did.

"Yeah," they replied, moving back toward him.

"I... Tonight was great," he started. "But... I- I don't think I'm ready for this. Not yet, anyway. I don't want to lead you on if I'm not sure. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

(Y/n) reached out and touched his arm. "It's okay."

Peter's eyebrows furrowed.

"I... I'd rather you tell me now instead of finding out later," they shrugged, pulling their hand back. "Thank you... for being honest with me. I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

(Y/n) waved as they turned again and walked to their door.

They tried to be understanding. They were relieved that they weren't going to have to live up to some expectations they knew nothing about. They were happy that Peter had thought of their feelings enough to not lead them on. But it stung. They like him. A lot.

There were a few days where the pair didn't speak while waiting for their coffee. They would just stand there and pretend the other was invisible.

(Y/n) hated that.

They slowly started initiating small talk again. It was like they were restarting. This time on a level playing field. A better understanding of each other.

Peter thought that after that night, his feelings would go away. He wasn't ready. That's all there was to it. He could move on now. Go back to hiding away from the world around him.

He couldn't.

(Y/n) was on his mind constantly.

Through all of it, they had been so understanding and kind. Too kind to him. He didn't deserve it. He knew that.

He just couldn't escape how he felt.

It was like they were playing on a slideshow in his head. Images and memories. He could've sworn there were times that he could hear their voice when they weren't around.

It all hit him at once.

He loved them. He was in love with them. After months of constant denial, he had missed the moment that he fell down that very slippery slope.

Everything after that felt like he was being stupidly impulsive.

He went to (Y/n)'s building. Someone held the door open for him, which was a little concerning, but he shook it off for the time being. He made it upstairs to (Y/n)'s door.

Peter felt like he spent hours standing outside that door, just staring at it. Like someone paused a film. He couldn't get himself to move.

He took a deep breath and finally knocked on the door.

(Y/n) opened it a few moments later. Their eyebrows were furrowed as they asked Peter what he was doing there.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, not having a good answer formulated.

"Peter-"

He cut them off by leaning forward and pressing his lips to theirs.

(Y/n) froze up for a moment.

Peter's hands cupped the sides of their face as his eyes screwed shut. It took him a total of two seconds for him to feel like it was probably a terrible idea on his part. But he didn't know what else to do or say. Maybe that's why he did it. Maybe he knew the words would never come out if he didn't do something so... forward beforehand.

(Y/n) seemed to snap back to their senses when their apartment door hit them as it tried to close.

They pulled away, pushing lightly on Peter's chest as they did. It left just a little bit of distance between them.

There was a pause as they both just kind of watched each other. (Y/n) was looking for a sign about why this had happened. Peter was looking for a sign of any reaction at all.

(Y/n) finally spoke up after a moment, "You're... You're going to get yourself pepper sprayed doing that."

Peter let out a chuckle as his nerves started to resolve. "Are you gonna pepper spray me?"

They slowly shook their head.

"Good," he nodded. "Because you're the only person I planned on kissing as soon as they opened their door."

"Oh," (Y/n) muttered. "Why?"

"I... I can't stop thinking about you," he explained. "At all. I... I thought that stepping back would make it better, but it didn't. If anything, I just thought about you more. And I know that all of this is annoying and after how much I've jumped back and forth, I wouldn't blame you for not wanting to deal with me, but I needed to talk to you and I just..."

Peter looked down, his sentence trailing off. He should've planned this out more. He sounded like an idiot for rambling the way he had.

(Y/n) grinned at him. "Peter..."

He looked back at them. They leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. A small grin formed on his face.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you either," they muttered. They could feel their face getting warmer but tried to ignore it. "I... I just didn't want to push anything."

Peter visibly relaxed at the idea. He wasn't on his own.

"Um," (Y/n) nervously looked away as the look in his eyes almost overwhelmed them. "Would you like to come in? I've got coffee or just soda or... I... I don't know."

Peter chuckled at them. "Yeah."

(Y/n) stepped to the side, pushing the door open enough for Peter to step inside.

They were willing to follow his lead on all of this.

As slow as he wanted to take it, they didn't care.

They just wanted to be with him.

And they felt lucky to know that he wanted them too.

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[writtenbymoonflower]

Unpretty

You are insecure and Peter is oblivious. tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

cw: reader had very negative thoughts about body image. mentions of weight and general body image issues. i tried to keep it as neutral as possible so everybody could read and relate, so it can be read as plus!size reader or not.

1.5k words

The position you were in wasn’t unnecessarily uncomfortable. The physical part felt really nice, actually. Peter was laid on his side, nose nuzzled into your hair while you were in his arms flat on your back. His even breathing was soothing and you felt close and warm. 

Emotionally, however, you felt confused. 

You had to resist cringing every time you remembered that Peter’s large hand was spread over the bottom of your tummy, likely feeling everything “wrong” about it. He could definitely feel it wasn’t as flat or firm as you would like it to be, even through your thick crewneck. And even though you logically knew it was impossible, you felt the stinging insecurity all over your body, like he was touching you everywhere you hated. Your brain was telling you that through feeling the soft part of your stomach, he could also feel and see where your thighs were too big, where stretchmarks were painted all over your body, and where your skin wasn’t completely smooth. 

He probably would hate my body as much as I do if he could see. The little voice in your head nagged. 

Obviously, you knew that wasn’t true. You knew that everyone had little things that bothered them and yours weren’t even especially unusual. You also knew that voicing these thoughts to Peter would likely lead to you being even more self-conscious and him being confused. Or even worse, him pitying you. You were snapped out of your spiral by Peter’s shifting in position. 

“What’re you thinking of, baby?” Peter whispered. To your horror, his hand started rubbing your stomach over your sweater. “I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears.” He laughed the way he does when trying to calm you down, like he doesn’t think it’s funny but it might be less intimidating if you believe he does. You turned your head to look at him. Being this close didn’t allow you to see his full face, but you could see one of his pretty brown eyes, looking at you with far too much love for your heart to handle.

“Not thinking of anythin’ really.” You kept your voice as even as possible and hoped he didn’t hear the nervous hitch in your breath as he reached under the hem of your sweatshirt to touch your skin. You panicked and tried to cover by grabbing his hand in yours and holding it between your ribs, right under your chest. He looked confused but still stroked your hand with his thumb.

“Yeah okay.” He was sarcastic and rolling his eyes but his voice was still light. He brought your joined hands up to kiss the veins on your wrist, closing his eyes and letting his lips linger for a good few seconds. All while still burning his eyes over your face, letting his pupils linger over a feature before jumping to the next, admiring your whole face with so much care you would cry. 

“What?” You asked, growing shy under his intense stare. 

“You’re so pretty, baby.” He was still smiling at you like a fool. “So so pretty.” He sing-songed. He urged you to lay on top of him with his arms, but you held fast in your place. Your boyfriend apparently took this as a challenge, because he showed off his real strength by pulling you fast onto his chest. 

“Peter!” You said, scolding and nervous and flustered all at once. 

“What?” He asked smugly, with a look of triumph on his face. You ducked your head out of his eyesight. “Baby, what’s up?” He asked again, more sincere. You still didn’t answer, your anxiety was roaring too loud in your head. You were probably crushing him under your weight. His hands were planted on your hips, likely feeling the extra fat and getting grossed out. He was just too nice to say anything. He was also too far close to your face for comfort, definitely seeing patches of oily skin or blemishes littering your face. It all became too much for you and you tried to roll off of him, but he gripped onto you harder. 

“Peter, let me off.” You kept your voice light but you were panicking inside. 

“Yeah, not happening.” He stayed stubborn as a mule. 

“But I’m heavy, I’ll crush you.” You said desperately. 

“Good.” He rebutted, still acting as if this was a casual conversation. 

“Peter, I’m serious. I’m too heavy for this. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Your voice trailed off, getting quieter towards the end. The whole sentence was soaked in shame that Peter hadn’t yet picked up on. Now, there was a concerned crease between his eyebrows. 

“Huh?” He looked genuinely confused. “What put that dumb idea in your head? ‘Too heavy’ for what, exactly?” He started as if he was about to rant, but cut it short. To your dismay, he pulled more of your weight onto him. 

“It’s not dumb, it’s true. I’m just too heavy” You argued back. He couldn’t really be that oblivious. Anyone with eyes could see it. 

“Oh I’m sorry,” He started sassing, like he actually wasn’t sorry at all. “I didn’t know that you now were the only deciding judge of something being ‘too much.’” He was being defiant on purpose. 

“Peter, please.” All joking and argumentativeness had left your tone, just leaving shame and sadness. Peter softened at this and encouraged your head up to meet his eyes, holding your jaw firmly so you couldn’t look away. He looked like he was slowly putting pieces together in his head. 

“Baby,” He started, still not breaking eye contact with you. “Is this why you’ve not been letting me touch you as much?” Peter looked so sad, it didn’t suit him at all and you wanted to make it better immediately. “Do you think there’s something wrong with you, that I would think there’s something wrong with you?” On the last sentence he was extra distressed, like he couldn’t believe the words were leaving his mouth. 

“I just-” You were trying to articulate your feelings without making this any worse. “I mean, not every part of me is pretty, you know that.” You tried to say it casually but Peter’s expression didn’t lighten at all. Instead, his bottom lip jutted out and his eyes got wider, looking like a cartoonishly sad puppy who was denied a treat. 

“I don’t know that, actually.” He moved his hand to the back of your head, threading his fingers in your hair. “You don’t think you’re pretty?” He said the last part like his heart was cracking. And in Peter’s mind, it was. His baby was thinking badly of herself, and even worse, she was thinking he thought badly of her. 

“I mean,” You cringed as the words left your mouth, wanting desperately for the conversation to end. “Not really. At least, there is a lot about me that could be a lot better.” Peter was at a loss for words. You had obviously mulled this over and were solid in your opinion. 

“I don’t think there is. I think you are perfect. I love everything about you.” He said softly, his voice missing its usual teasing tone.

“But-” You started, but cut yourself off. 

“But what?” Your argumentative boyfriend was back. “C’mon. Talk to me, baby.”

“I just-” You gathered your thoughts as best you could. He was really being difficult. There was no way he hadn’t noticed something. You also really did not want to say your insecurities out loud. It was too raw. But you knew Peter, and he wouldn’t back off without you giving something. “My stomach isn’t flat.” You said, as if that was enough argument for you being disgusting. 

“Okay?” He actually laughed at this, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “And?” 

You rolled your eyes, irritated. “And, in general I’m just too big. And my skin isn’t good either. It just doesn’t all add up very well does it?” You resisted the urge to cry, you didn’t want to add that on top of this already stressful discussion. 

“Sweetheart,” He looked exasperated. “I think- I think you’re being really mean and unfair to yourself.” He searched for the right words. “Everyone has things about themselves they don’t like, yeah? But you should know, you are not too anything, and there is nothing about your looks or body that is ‘not good.’’ He said every word firmly. “And most importantly, there is nothing, absolutely nothing about your body that I dislike, or that you should worry about me seeing or touching, okay?” His voice was soft during the last few sentences, like he was speaking to a little kid with a scraped knee. It made it a lot harder to resist crying. “Okay?” he said, still looking directly into your eyes. 

“Okay.” You said, watery. You swallowed hard and buried your face in his chest, feeling all too many emotions. “Thank you, Pete.” You didn’t think you could say anything else without falling apart. 

“It’s okay. I'ts alright. It’s what I’m here for.” He stroked the back of your head, still being gentle. “Just do me a favor, yeah?” 

“Mhm?” You muffled.

“Just, make my job easier for me next time. Tell me when you’re feeling like this, okay baby?” He pleaded as he pressed a kiss to your hair. 

“Okay. I will.” 

“Good. Now cuddle me please.” Demanding Peter was back. “And put all your weight on me, it’s no good otherwise.” 

[asterias-record-shop]

♫ 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡… TASM!Peter Parker with the bingo prompt ‘himbo’?

alright, so the thing is I feel like peter is really book smart but he is so oblivious otherwise, like if someone flirts with him it goes completely over his head. so reader has been his best friend for years and recently has been trying to drop hints that she likes him, and eventually she gets fed up of him being so oblivious that she just kisses him and he gets all whiney and then they do the devils tango (i am so sorry i’m really awkward when requesting 😭) but could there also be a size and praise kink, as well as an oral fixation? (if you don’t feel comfy pls delete this!!)

i hope u have a good day/night 💕

—𓆩[my beautiful idiot]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

nvm anon honey i couldn't sleep without posting this, i hope you enjoy it!!!

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - TASM! Peter Parker x Best Friend! Fem! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 4.7K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - You and Peter have been best friends for what seemed like eternity, and has been in love with you for what seemed like forever, but he’s not going to give up — no matter how much it seems like you don’t like him back. The kid you babysit though that is way too old to be babysat disagrees though, and tries to show him how much you were in love with him too.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - crossover time|| heavily inspired by this interview/edit with Will Poulter (love him so much) || cursing & foul language || mentions of violence || Peter gets hurt || whiny Peter is best Peter || smut warnings include oral, fingering, multiple orgasms, riding, praise, size kink, breeding kink, oral fixation, possessiveness, marking kink, biting, hickies, possibly more?

Miles was a helpless bystander between the two of you. It never worked out, not whenever Peter was too stupidly in love with you he never saw the hints that you dropped.

“Peter, I’m telling you, she’s in love with you!” Miles wanted to strangle the other Spider-Man, very very violently.

“I don’t… I don’t think she is,” Peter mumbles, a pout on his lips as he swirled pasta around his fork, one that you often made because it was his favorite. Was that not hint enough? You knew his favorite fucking pasta! “I don’t think I’m her type.”

“Who’s type?” You walked into the living room, plate in hand full of the cream based pasta you made on the side.

“Yours! Your type!” Miles grins. “Your type.”

“My type?” You hummed, thinking as you tap your chin. “My type… would be smart. Handsome, funny. Nerdy,” you look over at Peter who was still pouting. “Loves pasta.”

Miles slurps up some of the noodles, nodding. “I wonder who that could be!”

“Yeah, I wonder,” Peter mumbles, face falling as he scooped pasta into his mouth. “I wonder.”

“Really? In this room?!” Miles yells, moving his hands to gesture around the apartment. “I wonder?!”

Peter looked around, eyes narrowing. “You like Miles?”

How the fuck could he be so stupid?

“That’s it! I’m done!” Miles stood, looking at you. “He’s hopeless! Completely and utterly hopeless!”

You sigh, standing up too. “I could’ve told you that.”

You go around the couch, taking Peter’s finished plate of food as his face scrunches. “Who’s hopeless?”

“Oh baby,” you leaned down, pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek. He didn’t think much of it, you did kiss him on the cheek often. “You are. You’re such a himbo.”

“A what? What’s a himbo?”

“It’s like… a beautiful idiot,” you press another kiss to his cheek, pulling back his chestnut hair from his face. “You’re my beautiful idiot.”

He pours as you walk away, Miles shouting out a goodbye as you finish your food and start cleaning up the dishes.

He didn’t want to be your ‘beautiful idiot’ — he wanted to be yours, overall and absolutely, he wanted to tick every box you ever wanted, he wanted to be yours. If he could, he’d want you to mark him as yours for forever and eternity, he just wanted you. He wanted a mark on him that said you owned him, just like you owned his heart for what seemed like forever.

“Peter? Don’t you have to go on patrol?” You yell out, snapping Peter out of his thoughts.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m going!” He goes into your room because he basically lived with you at this point, grabbing his suit and getting dressed with the door open.

“Peter?” You’re standing at the doorway, arms crossed as he stumbled into his suit, trying his best not to fall on his face. “Miles’ parents invited us over for dinner. I told them yes, you promise not to be late?”

“Yeah, I promise,” he grunted breathlessly as he quickly finished putting on his suit, looking around. “Where’s my mask?”

“Peter,” you say again, more stern this time as you walk over, bending down to pick up something from the ground. He froze when you stood in front of him, fixing his suit before handing him the mask. “Promise me you won’t be late.”

He smiled down at you, wide and his honey brown eyes shining. “I promise. Do I dress nice or casual?”

“Nicer than casual,” you say with a sigh, your hands rubbing against his chest to flatten out the suit, thinking about the fact he wore nothing underneath it. “I’m going to go over there early to help Rio cook, but I need you there by seven. Did you hear that? By seven. Dinner starts at seven-thirty, but I need you there by seven.”

He smiled, leaning down teasingly. “Yes ma’am. Whatever you say, I’ll be there by seven.”

You sigh, a smile on your face as you pat his chest. “Be safe, and take care of Miles if he tags along, okay?”

“I will.”

You both stay there for a few seconds, his eyes staring at your lips as you worriedly push your hands through his hair. You did it often, so much so that it became something you didn’t have to think about doing, or it was something you did when you were nervous.

What you both did were couple things, why weren’t you together? It was because Peter was too much of a beautiful idiot to know otherwise.

“Promise me you’ll be safe, and protect Miles if he goes. Don’t eat on your patrol, Rio is making the best food ever. And you have to be there by seven.”

“I promise,” he pushed your hair back behind your ear, leaning down to press a firm kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you at seven.”

“By seven!” You yell as he jumps out the window, sighing with a smile. “I swear, if you weren’t hot I would’ve stopped trying by now.”

It was seven-ten. Seven-fucking-ten. You helped Rio make arroz con gandules while she took care of the main course - chicken con sofrito - and she had also tasked you in making a grilled salsa. You were smashing it inside of the molcajete, the grinding and the scratching making Miles and his father wince.

“Y/N, honey do you want me to uhm… take over… that?” Jefferson asks as he comes closer to you.

“Nope,” you say as Rio dipped her fingers into the salsa and coughing. “Oh no, is it bad?”

“N-No,” she cleared her throat, coughing. “Just spicy, very spicy. Are you mad, honey?”

“You have no fucking clue,” you basically growled as Miles and Jefferson slowly stepped back.

“You have any clue where this kid is?” Jefferson whispers to Miles, looking over. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to eat that salsa.”

“I-I’ll find him,” Miles says, nodding. “Just… distract them.”

First, he checked your apartment. He looked around, searching for anything that would show Peter was home, and when he found nothing — it was to the streets he went. He changed quickly, already swinging out the window to find the beautiful idiot. It didn’t take him long, quickly going to their favorite spot and finding him lounging, snoring extremely loudly.

“Peter! Peter, what the hell are you doing?!” Miles slapped Peter through the mask, gasping when he saw the gashes and lacerations all over his body. “Holy shit, Peter!”

He snapped up, gasping as he looked around. “What time is it?”

“Like seven-thirty already dude!” He quickly looks around. “What happened?!”

“I was helping a bank robbery, got dammit, Y/N is going to kill me!” He tries to stand, groaning loudly as he holds his side.

“Stop moving! Stop! Y/N taught me how to stitch people up, just lay down!” Miles ordered the older Spider-Man, forcing him to lay back as he grabbed the medical supplies.

“There’s no point, they’ll heal soon enough, I need to get home. Y/N is going to kill me!” He quickly stood, the gashes already getting smaller and less deep. “Let’s go!”

Miles groans. “Am I the babysitter or you?!”

He swung after him, Peter quickly swinging into your room and looking through the dresser that held his clothes. “Oh, come on! Y/N moved my clothes around.”

“Y/N does your laundry?” Miles asks, groaning. “Do you not how in love with you she is?!”

“We switch on laundry duty! It was her weekend so I cooked,” he grabbed a button down, groaning. “Thank fuck she washed my favorite.”

He grabs some new underwear from the drawer, smiles face palming as he rushes to the restroom to get changed. “You're going to bleed through that!”

“No I’m not!” He yelled back, walking out in his new clothes. “I covered the stuff with gauzes.”

“Okay, go upstairs, I’m going to swing up to my room and change, alright?”

He nodded. “Right.”

They both went to Miles’ apartment in different ways, Peter knocking on the door and when it swung open, he smiled at you. You gasped when you saw his gashed face, quickly reaching up. “What happened?!”

“Bank robbery, I passed out on top of a building. So sorry I’m late.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, his hands settling on your waist. “Dinner going well?”

“I-I made a salsa, are you okay?” Your hands quickly cup his face, twisting and turning as you sigh. “Rio’s going to freak! God fuck, Peter!”

He laughed. “You have no reason to worry, honey. I’ll just say I… ran into a tree.”

“A tree?!”

“Look at that! Peter’s here!” Miles yelled, running forward. “Let’s eat!”

When everyone sat down at the dinner table, it was obvious something was a little off. “I uhm… how is work, Y/N?”

You clear your throat, nodding at Rio’s question. “It’s going really well! I’m really happy there.”

“Peter, you moved in with Y/N already?” Jefferson asked, scooping food into his mouth. “It’s about time.”

“What do you mean?” Peter paused his actions of stuffing his face, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“Well… you both are dating, right?” Rio asked, looking over at Miles. “Mijo always told us you were…”

“No, we’re not,” you say, a sad smile on your face. “But Peter does basically live with me! He does my laundry, cooks, you know, normal stuff.”

“Normal… couple stuff,” Rio filled in. “You pay rent too?”

“I-I tried, but Y/N didn’t let me,” Peter says softly, shrugging. “She said that she didn’t need my help with it.”

It goes quiet for a minute before Miles laughs awkwardly. “Hey, guys! I passed my biology test!”

You smiled when Miles saved you both from the awkward moment, cheering as everyone continued to talk about how they knew Miles was going to pass. Peter wasn’t that into the conversation, he was extremely preoccupied.

You both did do a lot of couple stuff.

For fucks sake, you both even slept with each other. Why weren’t you both dating, why?

When dinner was done and a few drinks were put in after Rio forced Miles to go to bed, you both went back up to your shared apartment. You giggled as you opened the door, smiling back at him. “Do you want to watch a movie or go straight to sleep, what do you want to do?”

“Can I talk to you, Y/N?” He slowly takes your hand, pulling you toward your room.

You giggled, shrugging. “Well, straight to sleep it is then.”

He sat on the bed, parting his legs and pulling you between them making you giggle. “Everything okay?” You whisper, pushing his hair back as you leaned down to press your forehead to his. “I know something’s not. What’s up?”

“Why did you say we’re not dating?” He pouts up at you, a giggle falling from your lips. “Hey, it’s not funny! We… we do things that couples do, why aren’t we a couple? I know… I know you might not-”

“For fucks sake Peter, shut up.”

He gasped as you pulled his face up, your lips pressing to his as your nails softly press into his skin, soft but firm all at once. He groaned loudly, his hands pulling you closer before you pulled away, a whine falling from his lips. “What’re you doing?”

His words were almost slurred together even though the alcohol he drank had little to no effect on him. It makes you laugh as he leaned up, pressing more kisses to your lips before he pulled your body solidly against his own, fixing your position so that you sat on his lap and your hands were around his neck. “What baby, you don’t want me to stop kissing you?”

He hummed, shaking his head. “No, you can’t… ‘s unfair.”

You started to laugh even harder as he basically whined, trying to pull you down for more kisses. You hummed as he started to lay back, hands pushing through his hair. “I need you… I need you, Y/N.”

You rose a brow, rolling your hips into his. “Need? Need’s a big word, baby,” you respond, smiling down at him as he groaned into your neck. He shifts you both so that you were laying on your back, leaning down to keep kissing your lips.

He was addicted, now that he had one taste, he never wanted to stop. His tongue pushed into your mouth, desperately swirling his own around yours as you groaned into his mouth, the minute he pulled away was when you swallowed the mixed saliva gathered at the back of your throat. You hummed as he leaned down, his lips pressing to your for a quick kiss, going over and over again with small breaks in between.

“Peter,” you giggled, his mere hum the only proof he was listening. “Are you just going to kiss me or are you going to get a little adventurous?”

He pauses, tilting his head. “Adventurous?”

You laughed. “Fuck, my beautiful idiot,” you pulled him down for another kiss, your teeth grazing his deliciously making him groan before you pulled away. “You can put that mouth to better use somewhere else.”

He paused, his mind taking a minute to process. “Oh. Oh, yeah!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he quickly pressed one last kiss to your lips before letting his lips slowly, slowly trail down your body while slipping off your clothes, his nimble fingers leaving a trail of fire on your now bare body. He paused as he stared down at you, his eyes dark and pupils blown as he inhaled.

“So fucking beautiful.”

His words make you groan, hands pushing your thighs apart as his head slowly pushes between them, his mouth already hot on your cunt. Your eyes rolled back, his tongue already exploring your wetness and his fingers pushing into your slit, smearing all of it up and down before settling it on your clit.

He wasted no time, groaning as your hands thread through his hair, holding onto his brown curls like the were handles and your thighs settling on his shoulders. He paused though, pulling away making you whine softly, head tilted again. “This is okay, right? I should’ve asked.”

Fuck, why was he so fucking adorable? “Yes honey, this is okay. More than okay.”

He smiled widely, biting his lip. “Good, because your cunt tastes even better than your mouth.”

You gasped as he pushed his face between your legs again, his lips latching on your clit as he pushed a finger inside of you. Your back arches, eyes widening before they roll back into your head, his finger pushing and pumping trying to find the right rhythm, teasing you. He gasps as you tug on his hair, pushing your hips up into his mouth as he groans against your clit, the vibrations making you shiver.

“F-Fuck, Peter.”

He hummed, enjoying the feeling of your cunt clamping down on his finger, curling it inside of you to feel your body writhe underneath his touch. His eyes roll back as a shiver runs down his back, groaning into your clit that he never let his mouth off of for too long, only shifting his head to get into a new angle. You tasted so fucking good, your swollen clit evidence of his torment, but there was something else. Something he couldn’t describe, he could feel you, all of you.

He could feel every clench of your walls, every shiver that ran up your back. He could hear every stutter of your breath, the skip of your heartbeat, every soft whimper you tried to hide as that one finger continues to find every pleasure spot that not even you knew existed. He could taste you with every lick, every suck of his mouth, his teeth even grazing your sensitive skin if he got too focused.

He finally pulls away from your clit, a thick string of saliva attaching your swollen bud of muscles to his lips, your hips bucking as he stares at your greedy cunt trying to suck his fingers back in every time he pulls out. He groans loudly as the shiver running down his back gets stronger, and the twisting of your stomach turns tight, your thighs shaking as your hips rut into his fingers until his mouth joins the actions of sucking on your entrance as another finger attempts to push into your pussy.

You gasped as your hips bucked without warning, your spongy walls enveloping both of his digits, and your mind blurring from how hard the orgasm hits you. Peter doesn’t even stop though, groans falling from his lips as he pulls out his fingers making you whine, your attempts to ride your hips into them failing. His tongue pushes into you though, a gasp leaving your lips as you automatically tighten your thighs around his head, not that he was complaining.

He could be like this for hours, his tongue pushing into you as his thumb rubbed circles into your overly-sensitive and swollen clit, hard but focused and his fingers pushed back into you. His tongue never stopped moving though, flicking and lapping, his mouth sucking and popping sensually against your pussy, groans that sent vibrations from your pussy straight to the growing knot in your stomach making you whine.

You had just cum, but it wasn’t like he had probably even cared about what it would do to your body, how sensitive it would make your body to every movement he made. His mouth sucked on the opening of your cunt, opening his mouth wide to push his tongue into you as your hips buck into his mouth. Your fingers tug on his hair, whimpering as he rolled your clit between his thumb and pointer with his other hand, his tongue thrusting into you as far as he could, an ache forming in his jaw as he tried to get his mouth anywhere and everywhere on your body.

He could feel the sparking along his spine again, your stomach clenching all over again as his fingers rubbed against that sensitive spot inside of you. His fingers twist, curling inside of you as he tries to push another finger into you, the stretch making you scream out as a shiver runs down his spine, a shaky groan leaving his lips as he swallows everything leaking out of your cunt.

He wanted more. He wanted to taste everything coming from your cunt, everything you had, just everything. He didn’t want to stop, his third digit pushing into you and the squelching filled his ears, his breathing heavy and panting into your cunt. His thumb continues its torment on your clit, rubbing and the shocks running through your body as your thighs shake and fingers shakily scratch against his scalp.

Your body was coated in sweat, stomach tight as his fingers edged you onto the climax of another orgasm, they always came quick after the first. Your body was sensitive all from him, your nipples hard and pebbled from the cold air of your room, bottom lip bitten raw from trying to hold back your moans before he squeezed at your clit - the only thing he needed to do to get you to start moaning out for him.

He loved the sounds you made, getting drunk off of your moans and whines combined with the taste of your arousal and your cunt making his dick hard and his senses overflow. He pushed his three fingers into you as deep as he could, all the way to his knuckles to watch your cunt convulse and feel those same sparks on his spine.

“Peter! Peter wait, Peter- fuck!”

Your third orgasm brought you to tears, vision going black as you squeezed your thighs together, hands gripping his chestnut curls as you tried to steady your breathing. He hummed into your cunt, softly patting your clit making you yelp in surprise, parting your legs to watch as he slowly pulled away. “Are you alright?”

You stared at him, almost dumbfounded. “Y-You… you just ate me out and made me cum three times and you’re asking if I’m alright?”

His brows furrowed as he leaned up, wiping his mouth before licking the back of his hand where all your juices went and kissing under your eyes. He was careful not to get too close to your actual eyes, just in case, only kissing where tears fell. “You’re crying. I don’t like it when you cry.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck after he slowly pulled off his shirt and tugged his pants down to his ankles before kicking them off. “I’m crying out of pleasure. You make me feel so good, Peter.”

He smiled widely down at you, leaning lower to press another kiss to your lips. “Well, I want to make you feel better. Especially with how good you’re making me feel, princess, you make me feel so good. Make me so happy.”

“W-Wait!” Your voice was loud, surprising him as he stared up at you in confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“I-I… I want to ride you. Please?”

He pauses, but nods with a smile. “Alright. But you can’t be gentle. Don’t be gentle. I want it all.”

You nodded, laughing loudly as he twisted you both over, helping you steady yourself over his aching cock. It was long, thick and veiny, tip red and leaking precum in desperation as he whined, bucking his hips. You giggled, slowly wrapping your hand around his before he nodded and watched as you slowly sunk down.

You gasped, nodding as he slowly pushed into you, his head tilting back and his mouth falling open. Your eyes rolled back into your head, vision blurring as his girth stretched you out even more, every time you thought he bottomed out the more he kept pushing. You whined loudly, hands pushing against his chest as he groaned loudly, eyes wide as he tried to catch his breath.

His body was sheening with sweat, a smile blooming on his face as you dug your nails into his chest, scratching against his skin as you tried to compose himself. This is what he wanted when he wanted you to claim him, he wanted your nails to scratch on his body, your mouth to leave hickies and bite marks, he wanted to be yours.

He watched as you slowly started to bounce on his cock, his eyes staring at your bouncing tits before letting them wander down your body, staring at the bulge on your lower stomach. He hissed loudly as you got harder, fixing your position as your clit rubbed against his pelvis, eyes rolling back.

Your cunt felt just as good wrapped around his cock as it did wrapped around his tongue and fingers, every movement had it squelching and convulsing around his shaft, loud groans falling from his lips as his large hands settled on your hips, thumbs settling on that giant bulge on your stomach.

He watched your mouth fall open as you screamed out, fixing both of your positions to buck his hips up into you and watch your boys fall forward. He kept your body against his, flipping you both over to wrap his arm around your body and press his face into your neck, groaning loudly into your skin as your nails dragged against his back.

He thrusted as hard as he could, desperate to find his climax as your body bounced with this thrusts, loud moans leaving your lips with each thrust and his name falling from your lips over and over. “Yes baby, you’re doing so good. Your cunt is so fucking good baby, I love the way you feel around my dick,” he groans, gasping as your mouth pressed to his skin. “Fuck, fuck yes princess, I want to be covered in you. Want your hickies and your kisses, your scratches and your bites, I don’t care, I want to be covered in you.”

You obviously didn’t expect him to be so into marking, but of course, you weren’t going to say no. You sucked bright purple marks on his skin, digging your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your screams as the bed slammed into the wall, the squelching of your cunt and the slaps of skin against skin echoing against the wall was enough chorus of your sex.

You could feel his dick driving into the deepest parts of you, stretching your cunt so that if you looked down you could see the bulge that just seemed to be getting bigger and bigger. Your eyes rolled back as his fingers rubbed against your clit, whispers of praise falling from his tongue as those same sparks ran up his spine, his stupid little mind finally connecting the dots. “Are you about to cum? Are you about to cum baby?”

You nodded your head into his marked up neck, your tongue slowly licking against the bite mark on his neck as you whined into his neck. “Fuck, fuck Peter! Fuck, I can’t, I can’t!”

“Yes you can baby, you can,” he whispers, pulling away to hold your chin. “Look at me fucking you baby, don’t you want me to keep fucking you? I’ll make you feel better than you make me feel, I’ll fuck you so good. I’ll pump all my cum inside of you and you’ll be such a perfect girl for me and take all of it, right?”

Your eyes rolled back, mouth lulling open as you nodded mindlessly. “Yes! Yes, I will, I’ll take all of it!”

“Fuck, fuck Y/N, you don’t know how much I’ve wanted to cum inside of you, fill you up and watch all of my cum make your stomach bulge,” his voice gets huskier, almost like a growl as his thrusts get rougher, messier. “Fucking hell!”

You screamed this time, watching as he completely pulled out of you just to slam back in, your mind blurring as he continued to pull out and slam back in. You could feel your thighs shaking, that knot in your stomach threatening to break. “Peter, Peter! I’m going to cum, I need to cum!”

“No!” He whined, shaking his head as he started to get faster, his hips rough as his hands held your sides, eyes rolling back. “I’m gonna cum, cum with me. Please honey, I want to feel you, I need it.”

A final scream falls from your lips as he bottoms out, eyes rolling back and body shaking as your fourth orgasm absolutely blurred your mind, endless babbles leaving your lips as he panted above you. He stared down at your stomach, the bulge that shouldn’t have been able to get bigger successfully larger. “Fuck honey, look at what I did to your pretty tummy.”

You did, your mind still slightly hazy, but your mouth fell open when you saw the bulge and a whine fell from your lips. “Y-You’re still hard.”

He smiled. “It’s from the spider bite.”

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[alloftheimaginesblog]

requested by anon

You and Peter had been dating for nearly six months and it had been the best six months of your life. Peter was a breath of fresh air into your life, bringing laughter and love and you brought exactly the same into his own life for him. You brought hope and excitement and happiness, some things that he didn't think he'd ever get back... Not after Gwen.

There was just one big problem. Actually two.

Peter hadn't told you that he was Spider-Man and you hadn't told Peter about your own secret identity as you, too, were also a superhero. Neither of you knew the other's secret, not even had an inkling. You kept saying that you'd tell him when the time was right, Peter kept saying he'd tell you soon but when would that be? How long could the two of you keep up this charade?