thepatricktreestump

[thepatricktreestump]

you & me: chapter six

do you want to kiss me or not?

Peter Parker x Reader

Nobody prepares you for having company like Spider-Man over to your house. You underestimated just how awkward and strange it would really be. When you first invited him in, for some reason, you imagined sharing tea and listening to him tell you stories of his harrowing adventures. But now, realizing he can’t take off his mask and you aren’t able to see his true identity, things were a bit underwhelming. You carefully rolled out your computer chair for him to sit on while you sat at the edge of your bed, unsure where exactly things would lead. Perhaps you should’ve thought this through for longer than a second.

“Nice place,” he nodded, taking in all the surroundings of your room. You had posters hung up of some of your favorite bands and movies, another wall cluttered with photos of you and your friends, and a window big enough to get a decent view.

“Thanks,” you fiddled with your fingers and nodded back at him. “Tell me more about yourself.”

He seemed surprised. “Oh? Well what do you want to know?” He spun around on the computer chair, which you found half immature, half endearing.

“I dunno. Admittedly, I don’t know a whole lot about Spider-Man,” you confessed.

“Wow. And here I thought you were a fan,” he pretended to take offense.

“More of an admirer than a fan,” you corrected.

“A secret admirer, huh?” he perked up.

“No, not like that!” you groaned and he chuckled softly.

“No, no, I like that. Admirer. Sounds romantic,” he hummed.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you grumbled.

“Well you do have a crush on me so…” he drew out and your face turned red.

“Do not,” you shook your head.

“Do too,” he argued. “You asked to see me again.”

You covered your face in your hands with embarrassment. Sure, you found Spider-Man attractive, but so did every other woman in New York City. You couldn’t help that he was particularly strong, courageous, brave, funny, and charming. “Shut up,” you mumbled.

“What do you want to know?” he crossed his legs on his chair, sitting upright. “I don’t mind telling you some stuff I suppose.”

You furrowed your brow for a moment, trying to think up something you were genuinely curious about. “How long have you been Spider-Man?” you wondered.

“A couple years now,” he replied. “Although honestly, it hasn’t felt that long.”

“Have you always worked in New York City?” you asked.

“Yup. Mostly Manhattan and Brooklyn. Sometimes Queens,” he sighed. “I miss when it used to be smaller stuff. Friendly neighborhood problems. Things like stolen bikes and stopping bullies. Now it’s more like bank robberies and gun violence and saving people from burning buildings. Heavier stuff.”

“Sounds like it,” your eyes widened. “Do you enjoy it though?”

“The job? Yeah of course. I get to save people everyday. I feel honored to be able to do that,” he explained. “I wish it came with vision and dental, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers, amirite?”

You simpered. “Some would call it heroic.”

“Nah, I’m just helping people who need it. Looking out for the little guy,” he insisted. “I don’t really associate myself with all that hero stuff.”

“Too political?” you tilted your head to the side.

“Kind of, but also just exhausting. I’m not the type of person who likes attention from the media,” he shook his head.

“Ironic considering you’re the poster child for the Daily Bugle,” you snorted. “Which reminds me, how did you end up meeting Peter anyways?”

He seemed to be caught off guard by your question. Coughing for a moment, then recovering, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry?”

“Peter. Parker. You know, the photographer,” you clarified. “The one who told you I wanted to talk to you again.”

“Right, right,” he proceeded to have another coughing fit. “The photographer guy from the Bugle… What was your question?”

“How did you guys find each other? I mean, you move fast. I’m surprised you let anyone take professional photos of you. Usually people find you in low definition pixelated YouTube videos,” you mused. “You must have some sort of trust in the guy to allow him to snap pictures of you on duty.”

“Well he’s a professional so…” he trailed off, seemingly confounded by your question. He shook his head. “I have a question for you.”

“Shoot,” you leaned back on your bed, palms pressing into the mattress behind you.

“What’s going on here?” he threw the question back at you. “Why’d you invite me into your bedroom?”

Your cheeks instantly flushed at the inquiry. “It’s cold outside, you’ve probably been working all night long, I don’t know,” you mumbled nervously.

“Ah, I think you like me. Don’t you?” he probed.

“Stop saying that,” your face turned even redder by the second.

“No need to be shy, I like you too,” he shrugged. “Makes two of us.”

You shook your head instantly. “Okay maybe I do like you. but I can’t,” you argued. “I have a boyfriend.”

Spider-Man seemed surprised. “A boyfriend?”

“Yes,” you said a little more adamantly.

“Well I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” he whispered. He stood up from where he was sitting and took a step towards you, your heart beating in your throat. You stared at the wide white bug eyes on his mask, the spider on his chest, the way he towered over you sitting on the bed.

“Listen, I don’t think…” you mumbled, losing track of consciousness as he took another step towards you, reaching out his hand. You suddenly felt lightheaded.

“Maybe he doesn’t have to know,” he offered. “I mean, how many chances do you get to kiss your favorite vigilante?”

Cautious but curious, you took his hand, standing up from where you were sitting on the bed to face him. Taking a moment to feel the texture of his suit gloves underneath your fingertips, you glanced down to where you were now holding hands, and then back up at his masked face. “You want to kiss me?” you gulped, staring at him anxiously.

“Honestly, I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while now,” he admitted. He took his other hand and carefully peeled his mask up above his mouth, your heart thumping even louder now, revealing a five o’clock shadow and pink lips.

“I don’t even know your name,” you breathed softly, scared but excited.

“You can call me whatever you’d like,” he smiled gently. He slowly reached out to cup your face in his free hand, thumb brushing over your cheek. “You’re really beautiful, you know that?”

“You mean that?”

“One hundred percent.”

“How many girls do you tell that to?”

“Only you.”

“Spider-Man…”

“Hey,” he moved his hand towards your chin, slightly lifting it up so his gaze met yours. “Do you want to kiss me or not?”

You don’t know what possessed you, but you leaned in for the kiss, his lips meeting yours, and you instantly folded. His big strong arms enveloped you, your hands pressing into his back, his tongue slowly entering your mouth. He tasted so good, and you slowly felt yourself melting into his touch, your nose brushing up against his mask. There was something so hot about kissing him, not knowing his name or seeing his face, just letting him take you.

“Fuck…” you moaned softly as he pulled away from the kiss, both of you fighting to catch your breath.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, one hand holding your face gently.

You nodded, looking up at him, mask still covering half of his face. 

“Then let me take care of you,” he whispered. You felt yourself fall back onto the bed behind you and him following suit, now on top of you, kissing you passionately. Part of you wanted to know him, really know him. Know all of his lips, his mouth, his tongue, the muscles you could feel underneath his suit, his pecs, his abs, his… Everything. You wondered about him, so much, so many things, that you could probably ask him questions for days. Spider-Man was such a mystery, and how here he was, in your bed, kissing you.

You stop him for a moment, pushing him back gently, coming to some sort of realization. “How many girls do you sleep with, Spider-Man?” you asked, cautious but concerned.

He paused, head spinning, trying to bring himself back into the moment. “I’m sorry?”

“I don’t want to be just another fangirl you sleep with,” you argued.

This elicited a chuckle from his lips, amused. He leaned in to kiss you again, and then pulled back slowly. “To be completely honest with you, it’s been a very long time since I’ve done something like this,” he confessed. “Trust me when I say, this is something entirely new to me too.” He kissed you one more time. “And for the record, I have never slept with any fangirls.”

“Oh,” your face flushed red with embarrassment.

“I don’t know where all these whore allegations are coming from,” he laughed softly. “Between all the crime fighting and justice serving I don’t usually have enough time to squeeze in random hook ups.”

“Right, right,” you mumbled.

“Here,” he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “How about instead of overthinking ourselves into spiraling we just enjoy yourselves? Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, gaining back whatever confidence you had lost. “Yeah let’s shut up and take our clothes off.”

He smirked, catching himself from laughing once again. “Whatever you say, princess.”

“Mask stays on?” you wondered aloud and he nodded.

“But the suit can come off,” he offered. He reached behind himself and pulled down the zipper to reveal his chest and your breath caught in your throat. He slid his suit to the floor, leaving him in nothing but his boxers, and you admired his body. He was so fit and lean, his muscles leaving you breathless, and the bulge in his underwear making you flustered. He was so built.

“You’re really hot,” you murmured, causing him to smirk. Despite keeping his mask half on, you could tell he was handsome. His smile was enough to know.

“You’re beautiful,” he hummed, snaking his hands underneath your shirt and creeping up your back, until you helped him slide it off, revealing your bra. “So gorgeous. Look at you.”

You instantly blushed, trying to hide a smile. “You’re built like some sort of Greek god,” you murmured, your fingertips softly grazing his shoulders and biceps.

Both of you shed your underwear and began making out, the kisses slow and passionate, your bodies pressed together. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, his weight pressing into you, the growing desperation in each kiss as you grinded against each other. Between his mild pants and your muffled moans, you each smiled, your head now resting against his neck. He sank into you and you couldn’t help yourself, loudly gasping, clawing at his back before humming in approval as he began to fuck you against the mattress. He continued, slowly picking up the pace, fucking you until you were a pretty little mess on your bed. Pleasure washed through your body at the sensation, your mind feeling surreal as you looked up and stared at his mask still covering half his face. Spider-Man was fucking you. And you had never felt so good.

[thepatricktreestump]

you & me: chapter five

trust me

Peter Parker x Reader

The rest of the week your head was spinning with thoughts of Peter Parker. Flashbacks of the rooftop lingered in your mind as you would text him between classes. After school you would meet up at the cafe and you would do your Chemistry homework alongside him editing photos for the Bugle. It was nice working together, and to have a friend in him as well. He was a sweet boy, despite all his sarcasm and quick wit. You weren’t exactly sure you would call him your boyfriend, seeing as you just met, but it was evident that after the date, there was something much more between you two than a simple friendship.

“I have good news for you, Miss Chicago,” he said, sliding into the booth next to you about a week after your first date.

“Do you now?” you perked up a bit from your coffee and crossword puzzle.

“I talked to Spider-Man for you,” he replied and you choked a bit.

“Oh?” your face flushed with embarrassment.

“He didn’t remember you,” he sighed. Your face fell and then he shook his head laughing. “I’m just kidding. He totally remembered you.”

“Asshole,” you narrowed your eyes and playfully shoved him.

“He’s relieved to hear from you,” Peter announced reluctantly. “Said you were a really lovely young girl and he wouldn’t mind paying you another visit.”

“Really?” you couldn’t keep your eyes from instantly lighting up with curiosity.

“Really,” he replied flatly. “Merry Christmas.”

“God you’re such a dick,” you laughed, procuring a small smile from his lips.

“Uh huh,” he rolled his eyes and leaned in to give you a kiss, making you giggle even harder. “Be patient. He’s a busy guy. But he’ll get around to you eventually.”

“Thanks Peter, you’re the best,” you sighed. “Anyways, do you think you could help me out?” You pointed to your crossword puzzle.

“What’s up?” he hummed.

“Nine letter word. Punishes without legal authority. Starts with a V.”

“Starts with a V?”

“Yeah. There’s a T thrown in there too.”

Peter stares at it for a second, analyzing it for a moment, and then hums again. “Vigilante.”

“Oh shit,” your eyes widen at the empty blocks in realization. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“Believe it or not I was salutatorian in high school,” he quips.

“Why not valedictorian?” you teased and he seemed to lose a bit of his cockiness.

“I didn’t mind being second,” he shook his head, pressing his lips together thoughtfully before turning quiet.

“Okay well, I’m done with all my homework and papers. What do you want to do now, Einstein?” you closed up your textbook, crossword puzzle tucked between a copy of Hole’s Human Anatomy and Physiology.

“I dunno,” he leaned his head on your shoulder. “I could teach you how to skateboard?”

“Thanks but I’d rather not break my face,” you insisted.

“Hmm…” he pondered for a moment. “I could teach you how to parkour.”

“Even bigger no thanks,” you groaned.

“Well you think of something,” he scowled.

A moment of silence passed between the two of you. “You can come back with me to my place,” you offered. “It’s nothing to brag about, but it’s cozy and cute. Maybe we can just hang out and chill before my shift tonight.”

“Ugh you’re working again tonight?” he whined. “You work too much.”

“It’s not like you’re going to be able to hang out with me anyways. You have that photography project you’re always talking about,” you counteracted. Peter had been disappearing most nights to go take photos for the Bugle. Which worked out because the nights you weren’t working at the bar, you were usually studying for your Chemistry exams anyways.

“Right,” he sighed, nodding. “Well let’s make the most of the time we do have.”

And so that’s what you did. You took his hand in yours and led him down the street to your apartment, ushering him in and showing him your humble abode. You spent your time cuddling together on your bed and watching YouTube videos and snacking on some chips. Your head rested on his chest as you hummed softly, his fingers absentmindedly playing with your hair, both of you relaxed and calm. You didn’t want to go to work. You just wanted to melt into his arms and stay close. He was so comfortable and warm. Hours passed and before you knew it, it was time to get ready for your shift, and you had to bid Peter goodbye.

“Text me?” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he stood in the doorway, holding his jacket.

“Yeah for sure,” you reassured, giving him a kiss on the lips. “Be safe out there. Taking photos and parkouring and skateboarding and doing whatever it is you do.”

“I’ll be safe,” he promised, leaning in for another kiss. “You too.”

The rest of the night dragged by. You poured drinks, chatted up customers, restocked the bar, and wiped down the tables. In the back of your mind you were still daydreaming about being in Peter’s arms, wondering where he was and what he was up to. There were a lot of different sides to him, which you appreciated slowly uncovering. The fact that he graduated with a Chemistry degree, he dabbled in professional photography, he liked to skateboard, he knew his way around the city… It was all very impressive. The more you hung out around him, the more you liked him, and the more you wanted to spend even more time with him. He was smart, a little cocky, clever, sarcastic, sweet, and caring. You were interested to see where this would go.

Humming quietly to yourself, you slipped the keys in the front door to close for the night, when you heard someone behind you, instantly startled.

“Found ya!” he announced and you nearly crawled out of your skin.

“Jesus Christ,” you clutched your chest as you turned around, face to face with him. Spider-Man.

“Sorry,” he cringed and you narrowed your eyes, trying to catch your breath.

“What are you doing here?” you hissed, looking around and he frowned.

“I thought I’d walk you home,” he explained and you tilted your head to the side. “Uh, Peter talked to me. Said you wanted to try again. At being friends that is.”

“Right,” you blinked. “Well thank you, I guess.”

“It’s what I do,” Spider-Man replied. “Also, y/n? I like your name.”

“Thanks,” you suddenly felt flustered. “Do I get to know yours?”

“Ha ha,” he said flatly. “Kind of gives away the whole point of the mask.”

“Right…” you nodded slowly. “Spider-Man for now I suppose.”

“You’re all locked up and ready to go?” he asked, pointing to the keys in your hand. “No robberies tonight I hope.”

“No, tonight was pretty chill,” you explained, double checking the locks on the door. “Yup, good to go.”

“Okay so hear me out,” Spider-Man begins and you turn back towards him, skeptical. “We can walk home like losers or…”

“Or?” you stared at him, confused.

“Or we can swing home,” he announced and you looked at him mortified.

“Swing home?”

“Yeah, I can swing you home.”

“I hope you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

You continued your blank stare, at a loss for words. “You want to swing me home,” you said flatly. “Spider-Man style?”

“It’ll be fun,” he smiled. “You just gotta trust me.”

“You just learned my name and I know almost nothing about you,” you argued. “Why should I trust you?”

“I saved your life,” he reminded. “Plus I’m literally Spider-Man. It’s my job to protect the city and its people. I’d never do anything to hurt you or put you in the way of harm. Promise.”

“Okay so how does this work?” you inhaled a deep breath, trying to shake off your nerves. Spider-Man wanted to swing with you. You must be dreaming.

“Just hold onto me,” he opened his arms. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

“O-okay…” you stepped into his embrace, face instantly flushing at the body contact. His suit was cool and smooth, his arms strong and muscular, his hold on you steady and secure. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he laughed a little bit.

“You’re shaking,” he chuckled softly.

“I’m cold,” you lied. You were nervous. And a little hot and bothered. You wondered how many girls Spider-Man swings around the city. And how you ended up lucky enough to become one of them.

“Then let me warm you up,” he suggested, tightening his hold on you. “Ready?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be- woah!” he didn’t let you finish your sentence, instead flicking his wrist out and webbing the nearest light post, ascending you both high into the sky. “Fucking hell!” You held onto him tight, burying your face in his neck, and he laughed even harder.

“You can look up you know,” he told you, swinging from lamppost to lamppost.

“Absolutely not,” you shook your head, terrified.

“The city looks really pretty from up here,” he insisted, switching from lampposts to now buildings, webbing up towards the skyscrapers and using the leverage to fly higher. “You’re missing the view.”

Reluctantly, you peeked your head up above his shoulder, and felt the wind knocked out of your chest. It was exhilarating, thrilling, and utterly terrifying, but he was right. It was beautiful. You looked down at the cluster of city lights, from the cars and the buses and the stop lights. “How do you even know where I live?” you shouted above the sound of the wind whistling past the two of you.

“I know your rooftop, remember?” he responded, and you suddenly recalled the conversation you had with him on the roof.

Thwip. Thwip. You soared through the sky past the buildings and you almost laughed, gradually adjusting to the sensation. You didn’t loosen your grip by any means, but you did feel a little less scared now. Almost enthralled. Your eyes widened at the people below, how tiny they looked in comparison, and tried not to dwell on the thought of just high up you two were right now. “Don’t drop me,” you warned.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he reassured. “I got you.”

Before you knew it, you were descending onto your rooftop. You fought to catch your breath, Spider-Man laughing softly at you. You weren’t sure what to think. He got you home safe. He didn’t drop you. He cared enough to show up at your work again. “What’s exactly going on here?” you asked, half winded.

“What do you mean?” the eyes on his mask squinted as he tilted his head.

“Do you swing a lot of girls around New York? Is that like your thing or?” you wondered aloud.

Spider-Man laughed harder. “No, I don’t swing a lot of girls around New York,” he scoffed. “Do you think I’m some kind of whore?”

“What? No, no I didn’t-” you shook your head frantically, eliciting more laughter from him.

“I’m messing with you,” he chuckled. “But to answer your question, no. I don’t swing people around very often at all.”

“Oh,” you became a little shy. “Well I should consider myself lucky.”

“What did you think?” he cocked his head to the side once more.

“Terrifying. Exhilarating, but terrifying,” you replied.

“So you liked it.”

“I liked… parts of it.”

“You liked it.”

“Maybe I did.” You pictured him with a smug grin on underneath his mask. “So uh, do you have to get back to fighting crime and stuff or?”

“Not necessarily,” he sighed. “I think I’m done with patrol for the night honestly.”

“Would you, I don’t know, would you want to come in?” you wondered.

He froze. “I mean, yeah sure, maybe.”

You walked over to the door and led him inside. “You’re not going to get in trouble are you?” you whispered.

“I could,” he admitted.

“You should take off the mask,” you urged. “And take my jacket.”

“No one is going to see us,” he argued, walking through the halls of your apartment building.

“You don’t know that,” you countered, taking off your jacket and handing it to him. “I won’t tell on you, I promise.”

“I’m not taking the mask off,” he insisted.

“What if someone sees you and thinks this is where you live?” you hissed.

“Then they would be wrong,” he shrugged.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” you groaned.

“Thanks,” he replied. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I’m incorrigible? You’re incorrigible.”

“I’m Spider-Man.”

“Well Spider-Man is a bit of an ass.”

“Ouch. Tough critic.”

“What can I say?”

“And you’re inviting me into your apartment anyways.”

“You’re suddenly uninvited.”

He feigned a gasp and you laughed shaking your head. What the hell were you getting yourself into?

[thepatricktreestump]

you & me: chapter four

how close?

Peter Parker x Reader

         Pizza wasn’t necessarily your favorite food in the world, but it was always enhanced by good company. In this case, the ever mysterious fluffy haired boy with a shattered phone screen and terrible skateboarding skills. You had just finished up a homework assignment before texting Peter and arriving at the front of a local pizza shop, swaying back and forth on the balls of your feet nervously waiting for him to arrive. Your anxiety usually caused you to be early, standing awkwardly outside the meeting point and counting down the minutes until whatever event you had put in your iCal was scheduled to begin. You slid your sweaty palms down your thighs, exhaling slowly. He technically didn’t specify this as a date, but then again, he also didn’t say it wasn’t. You weren’t exactly sure what you were getting into. He had offered friendship, and you were fine with that, but something deep down whispered that maybe you wanted something much more than just friends. Maybe that’s why you slipped into one of your favorite outfits and fixed your hair today, put on a little makeup and spritzed your perfume, tried to make an effort. No, no, first impressions were important. Regardless of trying to seduce him or not.

         “Hey,” he startled you out of your thoughts as he approached you, a dorky smile on his face. “You look good.”

         “T-thanks,” you stuttered out, drinking in his appearance, and instantly realized you were slightly overdressed. It was pizza after all. You silently cursed yourself in your head.

         “You look really pretty,” he beamed and suddenly all your overthinking and insecurities washed away. You stared at him and gulped, smiling back.

         “Thanks,” you repeated, blush rising to your cheeks. “You look good too.”

         And he did. Somehow, Peter Parker knew how to make blue jeans and a black hoodie look like a million bucks, but you assumed it probably had something to do with his boyish charm and his dreamy hair and his picture perfect smile. You instantly snapped yourself out of your daydream, embarrassed all over again. 

“So pizza?” he asked and you nodded eagerly.

“Pizza,” you grinned in agreement as he opened the door for you and you both stepped inside. You glanced up at him, cheeks flushing at the height difference, noticing he was nearly a whole head taller than you were.

“Okay here’s the gameplan,” he began as you approached the counter. “We’ll grab a box of whatever you want, pepperoni, cheese, sausage, hell, Hawaiian, you name it- and then we’re gonna get out of here. Because I know a much better place with a much better view.”

“Do you now?” you raised your eyebrows, intrigued, and he just smiled.

“Trust me on this one,” he insisted. “Oh, and we’ll grab some sodas while we’re here too.”

Slightly dubious as to where he could possibly be taking you, and wary of this secret secondary location, you eyed him carefully as he ordered your favorite kind of pizza and got you both drinks. “Where are you taking me, Peter Parker?” you inquired.

“You’ll see,” he replied.

Still skeptical, you carried your pizza and soda behind him as you followed Peter through the busy bustling streets of Manhattan. You swerved through boisterous tourists and countless panhandlers until you reached the Flatiron Building, and Peter let out a slight smirk, as if proud of himself. “What are you so smitten about?” you wondered and he simply just smiled and shook his head.

“We’ve arrived,” he announced.

“Peter. This is the Daily Bugle,” you narrowed your eyes. What were you two going to do at the news station?

“Oh I know,” he reassured, procuring a lanyard with a key fob and ID. He flashed it towards you proudly and your eyes widened. ‘Peter Parker: Photographer: Daily Bugle News.’ You let your jaw drop slightly at this revelation and his smirk grew even wider, clearly satisfied with your reaction. “You wanna get a roof upgrade?”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly.

“Then let’s go,” he smiled. You followed with significantly more eagerness in your walk as he led you through the dark hallways to the elevator, and then emerged onto the roof, twenty two stories higher than before. “Manhattan views are a pretty penny, but I get this one everyday for free.” Suddenly you understood. You’d be smirking too if your job had a perk like this. You could see everything up here on the triangular rooftop, especially the perfect view of the Empire State Building.

“This is fucking awesome,” you couldn’t help but admit. Your eyes gazing at the glowing skyline.

“Mhmm,” he hummed, taking a bite of his pizza with a smug grin on his face. “Take it all in.”

“You go up here every day?” you asked.

“Most days,” he shrugged. “Unless I’m on your roof instead.”

“Speaking of,” you paused, shaking your head. “What were you doing up there anyways? You said you were from Queens, I’m all the way in Brooklyn.”

“Uh…” you seemed to have caught him in a lie, watching as he started to rack his brain for an answer. “Okay okay, but you can’t laugh.”

You blinked, staring at him. You could tell he was about to confess something, but you didn’t know what. “Okay…?”

“I do parkour sometimes,” he shrugged. You had to stifle an involuntary snort.

“I’m sorry?” you put your pizza down instantly.

“I said no laughing!” he insisted and you smiled.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to, I didn’t, okay look. I just didn’t expect that from you,” you admitted. But now that you thought of it, skateboarding and parkour kind of went hand in hand. “I mean, that’s… cool.”

“You think it’s lame,” he said flatly, taking a swig of his soda. “I’m part of a parkour group and you think it's lame.”

“No, no, it’s cool,” you argue. “I just don’t know why you have to do it on my rooftop of all rooftops.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed, shaking his head. “You’re insufferable, you know that?” he teased.

“Hey, I just hope your parkour skills are better than your skateboarding, that’s all I’m saying,” you quipped back.

He gasped, feigning offense. “Rude.”

“I think you like when I’m mean,” you giggled and he blushed, instantly going back for another bite of pizza.

“Your turn to share something weird or embarrassing,” he sighed. “I’m tired of being bullied over here.”

“My turn?” you raised an eyebrow, chewing thoughtfully on your own slice. You weren’t sure if you had something embarrassing to share. Well, other than the fact you were unintentionally stalking him before you met him in the bar. You struggled to find something better.

“Come on,” he insisted. “There’s gotta be something.”

“Well,” you suddenly realized. “I mean. There is… something.”

“Oh?” Now he was the one waiting on bated breath.

“I met Spider-Man once,” you bragged and he nearly choked on his pizza. “Jesus Christ Peter!”

“Sorry, sorry, my bad,” he recovered poorly, and you stared at him incredulously.

“Didn’t realize you were such a huge Spider-Man fan,” you joked and he glared at you.

“I just wasn’t expecting that,” he scowled, playfully throwing his soda bottle cap at you. You dodged it and narrowed your eyes at him. “So uh, you met the Spider-Man, huh?”

“Several times,” you nodded. “It was kind of weird. I think he was trying to be friends with me or he liked me or something.”

“Oh?” Peter cocked his head to the side, looking at you inquisitively.

“I dunno, he was looking for me after work one day and then he was waiting for me on my roof…” you shrugged.

“Sounds like you have a pretty popular roof,” he pointed out and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah it used to be my own private hideout until very recently,” you sighed. “But yeah I don’t know. I had this weird little Spider-Man stint and then he disappeared. Right about before I met you.”

“Interesting,” Peter hummed, though his mind seemed distracted with something else.

“Kind of miss him,” you admitted. “He was cool.”

“Yeah I guess he’s cool,” Peter admitted. 

“What? You know Spider-Man?” you wondered, half surprised.

“I mean yeah, I’m a photographer for the Daily Bugle,” he reminded and you nod. Duh, of course. “I get to take photos of him sometimes. He’s chill.” 

“That must be super cool,” you mumbled through another bite of pizza. “You guys work together, huh?” You pause, mulling over it for a second. “Wait. Then why are all the headlines so heinous?”

“Listen, I just take the pictures. Trust me, I have no say in what gets said in the headlines,” he put his hands up defensively. “But yeah, he’s pretty dope.”

“Maybe you could tell him I’m sorry next time you see him?” you suggested, and Peter looked at you quizzically.

“Sorry for what?”

“I dunno. Being rude I suppose.”

“I don’t think he took it that way.”

“How would you know?”

Peter stares at you again, blinking manually as if he forgot to turn the oven off before he left his apartment. “I guess I don’t,” he replied, shaking his head. “Okay, okay. So you want me to pass a message along to him?”

“Yes please… if that’s not too much to ask for,” you shrugged.

“What do you want me to tell him?” Peter cocked his head to the side, gnawing at the crust.

“Can you tell Spider-Man that y/n said they want to be friends again?” you wondered.

He spit out his crust and looked at you almost exhausted. “You want to be friends with Spider-Man? Again?”

“Listen, it’s complicated, okay? I don’t even think he knows my name. I never got a chance to tell him,” you sighed. “I just fucked things up between us that’s all.”

Peter just looks at you, almost analyzing your face. “I mean, if you really want me to let him know, I guess I can swing that,” he whispered. He seemed to be hiding another smirk.

“Hey. I’m being serious,” you whined.

“Oh I know,” he rolled his eyes. “Do you know how many New Yorkers want to be friends with Spider-Man?”

Now it’s your turn to blink back. “Oh.” You fell silent. “I guess I never really thought of it like that before.”

“I can pass the message along,” he smiled coyly, picking up the spat out piece of crust and chucking it off the roof.

“Impressive arch,” you noted. He smirked harder.

“So, what do you wanna do now?” he asked, brushing his pizza hands off on his denim jeans.

“Huh?” you pretend not to hear him.

“What do you want to do now?” he reiterated, slightly annoyed.

“I can’t hear you,” you feigned. “I think I need you to come closer.”

“Closer, huh?” he chortled.

“Yeah,” you just stared back at him, tension growing thicker between you.

“How close?” he dared to ask.

“I dunno,” you became shy. “You decide.”

“I get to decide?” he cocked an eyebrow. He leaned in dangerously close. “Is this close enough for you?”

Before you know it you’re kissing him. His lips are on yours and it's fiery and hot and insatiable. His lips are chapped and he has a bit of a five o’clock shadow but you could care less. It’s Peter Parker. And you’re kissing him.

You don’t keep track of how much time has passed. All you know is one minute you were arguing about Spider-Man and the next you’re situated in his lap with one of his hands slid underneath your dress. You would normally freak out at the idea of ever having sex on a rooftop, but with him, it came so naturally you would’ve thought you’d been fucking for ages.

“I’ve been waiting all night to kiss you,” he admitted against your lips and you chuckled softly, going back for more.

“Does that make this a date?” you whispered and he pulled back for a moment, his hand now resting on your thigh.

“Do you want it to be a date?” he wondered, eyes twinkling underneath the moonlight.

“I’d like that very much,” you confessed.

“Then date it is,” he smiled.

“Shut up and kiss me again,” you whined.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he insisted.

[thepatricktreestump]

you & me: chapter three

the cute boy with the disdain for beer

Peter Parker x Reader

As much as his initial comment stung, Spider-Man had a point. You lacked friends. Friends in New York City, anyways. Technically you had friends, only thousands of miles away in your hometown. You had internet friends on social media. And you had friends you worked with at the bar, and friends you saw in your lectures at school, but those didn’t really count because it’s not like you ever really hung out with them anyways. The fact of the matter was, you were lonely. And despite how annoyed you pretended to be on the roof, you really did enjoy your conversation with Spider-Man. And you wished you would have told him yes, you did want to be friends. Because well, other than the chance armed robbery, your life was boring as fuck.

Every day pretty much felt the same. School, homework, work, sleep, and then back to school again. It was a never-ending routine you felt stuck in, with seemingly no way out. Maybe he was right, you spent way too much time sulking on your roof instead of making friends, but it wasn’t like friends just fell out of the sky or were delivered to you on your doorstep. You had to go out and make them. Socialize. Introduce yourself. And admittedly, you were not always the best at doing that.

Friday night, you were stuck behind the bar again, disassociating as you poured half a dozen vodka sodas into glasses and slid them across the bar from you to a group of giggly sorority girls opening up their tab. Same old, same old. That was, until a certain boy wandered in, and your breath instantly caught in your throat. Him. Peter Parker. The stranger from the rooftop that one night.

Messy brown hair, even darker brown eyes, chapped lips, tall lanky stature… You locked eyes with him and he smiled sheepishly, glancing away, as your attention was stolen by a man shouting at you from the other end of the bar. “Young lady! I sure could use another!” the customer hollered, and you groaned, walking over to refill his rum and coke. What was he doing here? Maybe he lived in your neighborhood? I mean, that would make sense. Especially considering you met him on your roof, and then spotted him in the coffee shop that one evening. You watched him take a seat on the other end of the bar and tried to keep your cool. Perhaps he didn’t even recognize you.

“Welcome in. What can I get you?” you plastered a polite customer service smile on your face as you approached him, and he seemed nervous and jittery.

“Uh, just a beer for me,” he replied, and you studied his face, instantly noticing the cut on his forehead and the bruise forming on his jaw.

“Looks like you could use it,” you teased, and he raised an eyebrow. “Get into a fight or something earlier?” His face flushed, embarrassed.

“Oh, this? Don’t worry about this,” he shook his head, laughing softly. “I uh, fell on my face. Skateboarding.” That’s right. He skateboarded. You remember the day you saw him in the coffeeshop.

“Ah,” you nod your head slowly, fetching him a beer before sliding it his way, unable to contain the butterflies in your stomach any longer. “You’re the boy from the roof that one night, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responded, instantly looking away, unable to hide his stupid smirk as he took a swig of his beer.

“You remember me,” you insisted and laughed softly as his face instantly scrunched up, seemingly disgusted at the taste of the beverage, and swallowed. “What?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head, forcing a smile. “Delicious.”

“You don’t drink beer, do you?” you narrowed your eyes and he looked guilty, caught in his lie.

“Of course I do,” he takes another confident swig, only to be met with disgust again. You wheezed even harder.

“You don’t have to keep drinking it if you don’t like it,” you laughed, trying to take it from him, but he held it away from you, insisting on taking another sip once again.

“I drink beer,” he argued, his tone of voice unconvincing.

“Okay…” you stared at him weirdly. “And you also don’t remember me. Right.”

There’s a beat of silence that passes, both of you blinking at each other awkwardly.

“Peter Parker,” he extended a hand, introducing himself. You don’t tell him that you already know this. That would only make things even weirder. “Sorry I lied. Of course I remember you.”

“Y/n,” you introduced yourself, shaking his hand. He’s warm and his hands are calloused and they feel good against yours. Maybe you’re just touch starved, but the contact sends goosebumps down your entire arm. He takes another swig of his beer and cringes at the flavor on his tongue, causing you to laugh even harder. “Seriously. Let me get you something else. Something stronger.”

“You don’t have to,” he protested, but you’re already snatching the beer out of his hand and stealing it for yourself, mixing him a Moscow Mule instead. “Try this.”

He stared at you, uncertain for a moment, before bringing the drink to his lips and having a taste, pressing his lips together in delight as he swallowed. “Okay that’s pretty good,” he admitted, and you smiled smugly.

“On the house,” you insisted, and then traveled down the bar to the new customers who had just walked in. You make a mental note to return to Peter as soon as this is finished. What are the chances he would walk into your bar tonight? You blushed as you fixed up drinks for the other patrons before glancing towards him, catching him staring at you. You blushed harder, watching as he glances away again, giggling and shaking your head. You make your way over to him, proud of yourself at the way he's already finished half of his cocktail. “Better?”

“Much better,” he grinned, tapping his fingers against the side of his drink.

Curiosity gets the better of you. “Why were you on the roof that night?” you can’t help but ask him.

“Probably the same reason you were,” he shrugged. “Trying to get away from…”  He made a vague hand gesture acknowledging the chaos of his existence. “All this.”

“How did you get up there?” you wondered.

“I already told you,” he looked down at his drink, playing mindlessly with the straw. “Fire escape.”

“Yeah, so here’s the funny part,” you hummed, suspicious. “There is no fire escape.”

“Could’ve sworn there was,” he argued. “How else would I have gotten up there?”

“That’s the thing,” you counterargue, defensive. “There wasn’t. So I don’t know. And it’s left me wondering ever since.”

“Huh. I must be thinking of a different roof,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink, and you stared at him incredulously.

“How often do you frequent roofs?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Pretty frequent,” he answered, and you chuckled and shook your head again.

“Okay…” you walked away, reminding yourself you’re still at work and you still have to do your job despite your mysterious crush sitting at the end of the bar. As distracting and confusing and charming as Peter was, you had other duties to fulfill, especially on a busy Friday night. You catered to the countless men demanding beers, the patrons and their usual cocktails, the groups of friends ordering an assortment of different beverages, the bachelorette party and their martinis. But you didn’t forget about him, circling back after checking in on everyone else in your section. “How you holding up, Peter Parker?”

His face flushed at the way you said his name. “Another. Pretty please,” he held up his glass and you grinned.

“Sure thing, but you’re paying for this one,” you told him and he sighed and nodded, grinning alongside you.

“You’re pretty good at what you do, you know,” he complimented as his eyes fixated on you, watching the way you simultaneously cracked open a can of ginger beer and reached for a lime wedge, then swiftly poured vodka into the glass, plucking up a mint leaf not even a second later. “You work fast.”

“You’ve got to,” you sighed breathlessly, crafting the cocktail in what seems like a fleeting moment, shaking before pouring and garnishing, then sliding it towards him. “Things move fast behind the bar.”

“How long you’ve been doing this?” he inquired, and you make note of this thick New York accent and subconsciously bite your lip.

“About a year or so now,” you answered. “I started around the time I moved to Brooklyn.”

“Oh, so you moved here?” he raised an eyebrow. “That explains your accent.”

“And you must be from here,” you point out. “Because that would explain yours.”

He laughed, nodding. “Queens, born and raised.”

“Chicago,” you explained, and he seems twice as intrigued.

“What’d you move to New York for?” he wondered, slowly nursing his drink.

“School.”

“They’ve got some really good schools out in Chicago.”

“Yeah but… I don’t know. There’s always been something about New York.”

“Where do you study?”

“NYU.”

“What are you studying?”

“Chemistry.”

His eyes light up. They search yours, as if you just said something that changes everything. “Really?” he doesn’t seem to believe you.

“Really,” you insisted. “Why? Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, no, not at all,” he shook his head vigorously, his chest heaving up and down with silent laughter. “It’s just uh, I studied Chemistry. Well, biochemistry and biophysics.”

“Oh.” it’s your face that flushes this time and you suddenly find yourself becoming nervous. You’re intimidated. “Oh wow. So you must be like, really smart, huh?”

“I guess so,” he shrugged humbly and you attempted to swallow down your newfound excitement. “I graduated last year, so if you ever need any help on your assignments or anything, let me know.”

“Thanks,” you look at him, trying to fade away the blush from your cheeks. “I think I will.”

“Or I don’t know, if you just need a friend or something,” he says casually, but there’s something about the way he looks at you and the way he says it that makes it feel so much more than just casual. So much more than just a friendly invitation. There’s something in your chest that makes you feel strange, his words echoing in your ears, familiar, but you can’t quite place it.

“Y-yeah…” you stammer, nodding your head slowly, still staring at him. “Actually, that would be nice.”

“Yeah?” his eyes lit up again, brown pupils dilating as he looks at you, fluffy brown hair and goofy smile making your heart melt in your chest and drip down your ribcage and puddle in your stomach.

“Yeah,” you nodded, newfound confidence taking over you. “Let me give you my number. I could definitely use some friends. New York City gets… lonely.”

“I know,” he gave you a soft smile, as if he really does just know. “Maybe I can show you around to some good spots. We can get pizza or something.”

“That sounds really nice,” you admitted, watching as he hands you his phone so you can type in your number. You notice that it's five generations too old, and the entire screen is cracked, like someone ran it over with a semi-truck, threw it in a blender, and smashed it with a sledgehammer, and then ran it over with a semi-truck again. You can barely see the screen. “You should probably get a new phone.” You can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah I know,” he sighed, smiling bashfully.

“What happened?” you asked, typing in your name and number, fingertips scraping against the broken glass, and then handing it back to him.

“Skateboarding incident,” he replied and you raised your eyebrows.

“I’m starting to think you’re not very good at skateboarding,” you wave your hand around his face, lazily gesturing to his scrapes and bruises. “Maybe you should retire and find a new hobby.”

“Maybe,” he laughed. He smiled down at his phone screen, at your name and number, and then looked back at you. “I’ll text you sometime. Y/n.”

“I’m free tomorrow,” you offered, instantly regretting your words. Maybe you’re coming off too eager. Too much. You don’t want him to think you’re some loser who doesn’t have a life or friends outside of school and work. “Uh, if you’re not doing anything. I don’t know.”

“I’m not,” he simpered, finishing up his drink and then setting the glass on the counter. “Maybe we can do something together.”

You nodded slowly, then glanced at his empty glass, and then back at him. “Another?”

“No, I’m alright,” he replied. “I think I’ll probably close out my tab for the night.”

“Okay,” you give a soft smile.

The rest of your shift flies by pretty quickly. Thoughts about the cute boy with the messy brown hair and the mysterious skateboard injuries and the disdain for beer flood your mind and offer a nice distraction from your responsibilities. You walked home, head buzzing with the idea of befriending this mysterious stranger who appeared on your roof. You suddenly realize he never technically answered your question. You glanced down at your phone, wondering when he would text you. When you would hear from him next.

Other questions about him start to pop up in your brain. Later realizations. Inquiries. If he was from Queens, what was he doing in a dive bar in Brooklyn? If he hated beer so much, why did he order one? And when you asked about him being the boy on the roof, why did he try to deny it? Confusion muddled your brain as you arrived home, taking the elevator straight to the highest floor, reuniting with your favorite place in the world.

“Why New York?” he asked. Because of shit like this. The cold air hit your face and you instantly grinned as you entered the rooftop, wandering to the edge and gazing out at the skyline in the distance. You gaze out at the Empire State Building, at the glowing lights, the twinkling myriad of colors, at the little people who look like ants below. You breathed in the cold air and sighed, looking out at the distance, peace flooding your body instantly. Sure, Chicago was cool. Chicago was a big city. But New York was bigger. And you always dreamed of something bigger.

Plus, New York City had Spider-Man. And that was pretty fucking cool. You hummed to yourself softly, thinking about him. You wondered what he was up to. If he was out saving someone. Part of you hoped maybe, despite everything, you would still see him again. You searched the skyline, the buildings, the streets, silently hoping you’d notice a blur of red and blue below, but nothing. You couldn’t find him.

Your phone pinged and you looked down, smiling as you received a text from Peter Parker.

-       PP: Just so you know, Chicago’s got nothing on NYC pizza.

You audibly laughed.

-   YN: Never really been a fan of deep dish anyways.

-   PP: Ever try Joe’s? The place on Bleeker and Carmine?

-   YN: Nope.

-   PP: I’m taking you tomorrow.

-   YN: Say less.

[thepatricktreestump]

you & me masterlist

(peter parker x reader)

NYC can get lonely and it's hard to make friends. nothing particularly exciting ever happens in your life. until one day you meet a boy on your roof. and get saved by new york's favorite superhero. your life quickly becomes exciting as ever trying to juggle the two of them.

NEW CHAPTERS BEING POSTED EVERY WEEK!

you & me

chapter one: the stranger on the roof

chapter two: we’re not really strangers, are we?

chapter three: the cute boy with the disdain for beer

chapter four: how close?

chapter five: trust me

chapter six: do you want to kiss me or not?

chapter seven: let me make it better

chapter eight: i hope it makes you smile

chapter nine: because i love you

chapter ten: spider-man things

P.S. MY INBOX IS OPEN FOR ANY COMMENTS, SUGGESTIONS, REQUESTS, ETC., FEEL FREE TO SHOOT ME A MESSAGE :)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello Everyone! Auden here! I know it's been a couple years but I recently got a new laptop that inspired me to continue writing again. My life has changed drastically since the last time I was active here on Tumblr, but it feels good to be back "home." I have missed all of you so much and look forward to knowing my new readers and followers through this series. It's intended to be imagined as Andrew Garfield's Peter Parker, but any Peter Parker will suffice! Just ten chapters of me pouring my heart out to my favorite fictional crush, Spider-Man. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Feel free to shoot me a message via my inbox! Don't be shy!

[thepatricktreestump]

you & me: chapter two

we're not really strangers, are we?

Peter Parker x Reader

It was admittedly a bit difficult to focus on your studies after the incident that happened with the robbery at the bar. You caught yourself spacing out during your lecture, fantasizing about your short lived Spider-Man encounter. Embarrassed, you cleared your throat, sitting up straight and focusing on the white board littered with equations. Being saved by your local superhero was far more enticing than studying physics, but nonetheless, you had an exam coming up and you should be harnessing your attention and energy towards that. It was easy for you to get distracted. You lived a fairly simple and mundane life. So between stumbling across a cute stranger on your rooftop and being rescued by a mysterious hero in spandex, Newton’s Law of Motion could hardly compete.

When class was dismissed, you sighed, brain full of fog as you slid your textbooks and laptop into your bookbag and traveled down the hall. Unfortunately, your little mix up with Spider-Man was anything but simple. Your boss reviewed the CCTV footage, you had to give an official statement to the police, you were written up for not closing properly, and you had to review several safety videos that demonstrated what to do in case of an attempted robbery. Videos you had already watched before in your training, but completely blanked on in the moment. How in the world were you supposed to think straight with three grown men pointing guns in your face? You hated to think of what would have happened if Spider-Man never showed up. You would’ve felt twice as stupid.

“He was looking for you the other night,” your manager told you when you clocked in for your shift on Friday.

“I’m sorry?” you stared at her, bewildered.

“Spider-Man,” she scowled. Your manager had never been a fan, even after he saved your bar from attempted robbery. Claimed he put her out of a perfectly good barstool. “Wandered in here asking if you were doing alright.”

“Spider-Man came in here looking for me?” you looked at her incredulously.

“I dunno,” she shrugged, still unbothered. “I told him you worked weekends. He might swing by again tonight. Thought I’d let you know.”

Your head spun at her words. What did she mean Spider-Man came into your work looking for you? You weren’t aware that a chance Spider-Man encounter included a follow up appointment. The rest of your shift you kept glancing at the door, wondering if he’d show up, but he didn’t. You spent the next eight hours pouring shots, mixing cocktails, restocking juices, closing out tabs, slicing lime wedges- silently hoping and praying the masked hero would casually mosey in and order an IPA, but you knew realistically that was ridiculous. You would probably never see him again. It was strange he came around asking for you though. Part of you wondered why. Didn’t he have better things to do like save people from burning buildings or stop car crashes? Towards the end of your shift, your hope dwindled down to none, shooting one last glance towards the door. No use.

“Were you waiting on a regular or something tonight?” your coworker teased as you both began to close up shop and clean down the counters. “You must’ve glanced at that door a hundred times.”

“What?” your face flushed, twice as guilty. “No, nothing. It was stupid.”

“Uh huh…” your coworker rescinded, and you cursed yourself for being so obvious. Seriously though, you wondered why he wanted to see you again. Was it really just to make sure you were okay? Or was there something else?

Sighing in defeat, you walked home feeling particularly foolish for thinking he would take time out of his busy schedule of saving people to come say hi to you. He probably had a million better things to do, more important things. Why would he waste his time checking up on a lonely college student who was a part time bartender? You were trying to clear your head of all your silly Spider-Man thoughts when sure enough, you hear his voice coming from behind you, swooping in at the last second as if only to prove you wrong.

“There you are!” he sounded out of breath, exasperated, but still somehow chipper as he plummeted down to the sidewalk below, shaking a string of webs off his hand as he found balance on his feet.

“What in the world?” you whipped your head around to face him, and sure enough, there he is. Spider-Man, in all of his red and blue spandex glory.

“I tried to catch you earlier in the week but your manager said you usually only work the weekends,” he rambled breathlessly and you looked at him, still shocked by his sudden presence. He cocked his head to the side. “Isn’t it a little late in the night for a young woman like yourself to be walking home alone?”

“I uh- I mean I guess, I guess it is…” you stuttered, still processing it all. “I have a taser on me though. And pepper spray. If that helps.”

“That’s good,” he nodded, slouched over slightly with his hands resting on his thighs, still trying to catch his breath.

“Why were you looking for me the other day?” you wondered.

“Just to make sure you’re doing alright,” he responded, blinking at you as if things weren’t completely and totally as weird as they were right now. “You know, after the whole stick up with The Three Musketeers and all.”

“I’m fine,” you laughed softly. “Really. But it’s kind of you to check up on me.”

“Feels like I should probably be checking up on you more often,” he crosses his arms over his chest, and even despite the mask, you can tell he’s looking at you disapprovingly. “Why are you walking home alone in the middle of the night? That’s unsafe, you know.”

“The bus doesn’t run this late,” you narrowed your eyes at him, annoyed. “And taxi drivers charge a fortune. You wouldn’t know that because you swing everywhere, Spider-Man.” Your last sentence is charged with sarcasm.

“Uh huh,” he chuckled at your slight dig. The sudden roar of police sirens startled you both, and you winced at the loud sound, Spider-Man instantly uncrossing his arms and standing up, alert. “I guess that’s my cue. Anyways, you stay safe. Keep that pepper spray and that taser on you. I’ll see you around.”

“See me around?” you looked at him, quizzical.

“Yeah I’ll find you!” he shouted, leaving no further explanation before running and shooting a web into the air, swinging away into the city night, to where you assumed he was following the sound of the sirens.

He’ll find you? What the hell was that supposed to mean? You figured now he knew where you worked. And the route you walked home... Was Spider-Man stalking you? You shook your head, thinking this latest encounter would only contribute further to your weird fascination with him. Or perhaps, his weird fascination with you.

Seeing him on your rooftop the very next evening certainly didn’t help. Especially when you least expected it. You screamed as he skidded to a halt on the roof of your apartment, hitting the back of your head on an HVAC unit in the process. “Ouch.”

“My bad, are you okay?” he instantly rushed to help you and you glared at him, the slightest bit peeved. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Maybe a warning next time?” you sighed, holding the back of your head and staring up at him. His suit was incredibly dirty today, coated in something that looked like chalk or maybe drywall. You didn’t bother to ask. Instead, you gravitated towards your initial inquiry. “How did you find me?”

“Roof,” he responded, as if that was an acceptable answer.

“Roof…” you drew out the word, still looking at him skeptical. “There’s like a million roofs in Brooklyn, you know.”

“Yeah but only one of them is yours,” he replied in a sing-song voice, plopping down on the ground to sit across from you. A cloud of dust wafts off his suit at the action and you snickered, unable to avoid the question now.

“What happened to you, Pig-Pen?” you teased and he snorted, amused.

“An apartment building collapsed in the Bronx earlier today. Morris Heights area,” he answered so casually it made you think twice, face falling a bit at his honest response. “Thankfully nobody was seriously injured. But now about a hundred people are missing a home.”

You grew quiet, staring at him in his dirty suit, realization slowly dawning on you. “Damn…” you whispered, feeling humbled. “You really just do this, huh? Everyday? Saving people?”

“Pretty much,” he nodded and you stared at him in awe.

“Isn’t it hard?” you wondered. “Sorry, that’s probably a stupid question. Of course it is.”

“No stupid questions,” he insisted. “I mean, yeah. Yeah it is hard. But someone needs to do it, you know. I’m just glad I’m able to help. To be there when people need it.”

“Huh…” you grow quiet again. Not exactly how you imagined your conversation with Spider-Man to go. “Well I’m glad you were there when I needed it.” You smiled, trying to lighten up the mood a little bit.

“Yeah me too,” he slouched against a pipe stack. “What have you been up to today? More bartending?”

You stared at him weirdly, wondering why all of a sudden Spider-Man was so interested in you of all people. “Why do you care?” you didn’t mean for it to come off half as harsh as you sounded, but he seemed to find it more entertaining than rude.

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “I think you’re cute.”

“Cute?” you practically choke. “You’re like forty something!”

“Ouch,” he put a gloved hand to his chest, pretending to be offended. “I am not forty something.”

“You don’t even know my name,” you rolled your eyes. “Or like, anything about me.”

“Okay… So let’s change that,” he suggested. “Tell me your name and something about you.”

“Why should I?” you scowled. “My parents told me not to talk to strangers.”

“I’m not a stranger, I’m Spider-Man,” he flashed a peace sign. “Also, I saved your life. And this is like our third time talking to each other, so we’re not really strangers, are we? We’re friends.”

“You’ve been counting,” you pointed out and he chuckled from underneath his mask.

“What? You don’t want to be friends?” he asked, still pretending to be offended.

“I don’t, I don’t know,” you sighed, exasperated. “Okay, maybe. But being friends with Spider-Man is weird.”

“Weird how?”

“I can’t just casually tell my other friends that I hang out with Spider-Man.”

“Why not?”

“Because they won’t believe me.”

“Well what if I met them? Then they’d have you believe you, right?”

You stared at him, half irritated by his happy go lucky attitude, but half relieved. It was nice to have someone to talk to. Someone to cure your boredom. You grew quiet, mulling over his question. “You can’t meet them,” you muttered under your breath. “They’re not from here.”

“Oh, so you don’t have friends,” he teased and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Real ones anyways.”

“I moved here a year ago, jackass,” you sneered. “Give me a break. Between college classes and shifts at the bar, I barely have time to breathe, let alone make friends.” That was a lie. You had plenty of down time. You wanted to make friends. So bad. You just didn’t know how to.

“Well maybe if you spent less of your time sulking on a rooftop and more of your time going out and talking to people, you’d actually find friends,” he half-joked, and you rolled your eyes, playfully tossing a rock at him and he caught it. “Rude.”

“I’m just lonely, okay? And bored. And I don’t exactly appreciate you calling me out on it,” you argued. “You’re the weirdo who followed me up here anyways.”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess I am…” he grew quiet this time, staring out at the skyline in the distance, humming softly to himself. “Okay, I get it. Being friends with Spider-Man is weird.” He stood up, doing an awful job at attempting to brush the chalky gray residue off his suit, and then sighed. “I’ll leave you alone then.”

“What?” you blinked, watching in confusion as he stretched his back, then cracked his neck from side to side.“Sayonara,” he saluted, and then flipped off the side of the roof, causing you to gasp, and you raced after him, looking down the side to reveal him swinging away into the night once again. That motherfucker. That was the last time you saw Spider-Man. And you didn’t even get the chance to tell him your name. 

[thepatricktreestump]

you & me: chapter one

the stranger on the roof

Peter Parker x Reader

Stress and frustration coursed through your body as you trudged home from work that night, exhausted. All you wanted to do was get some peace and quiet. Relax. Technically you weren’t really supposed to be on the roof of your apartment complex. In fact, when you signed the lease, there was a specific added addendum stating all tenants were strictly prohibited from roof access. However, it was the one and only place you felt you could truly get away from it all. Thirty six floors above New York City, staring at the skyscrapers that loomed in the distance, looking down at the street lights and cars and businesses and homes below, head among the clouds, is where you found your peace. Nearly every week, you snuck up to the top floor, expertly picked the lock to the maintenance closet, which you knew secretly led to a staircase that accessed the roof, and exhaled all the worries you had accumulated from the day. Nobody was ever up here, especially at night. Just you and your thoughts.

It was the perfect place to breathe. Most of the time you came here after a particularly stressful shift at the bar where you worked. Or after a nerve wracking exam at school. Or maybe when you needed to get away from your pestering parents or overbearing friends. It was your special hiding spot, your escape from the rest of the world, and you were ever grateful for having it keep you sane this past year. You had moved to New York City all on your own. You worked most weekends at a bustling cocktail bar in the city as a bartender and studied most weekdays at NYU working on finishing up your Chemistry degree. When you weren’t at the bar or at school, you were spending your time Skyping with your friends from home, studying in a coffee shop, supporting local farmers markets, visiting the library, walking around the city window shopping, or well, here. On the roof of your apartment, getting lost in the cold air and dark skies and city night lights below.

Exiting the elevator and making your way down the hallway, you sighed with relief, slipping a hand into your pocket to find your trusty tension wrench and rake, and fumbled with the lock on the door for a moment before hearing the click. Smiling smugly to yourself for ever even figuring this out in the first place, you slid them back in your pocket and maneuvered around the maintenance closet until you reached the stairs, swinging open your door to paradise. Alone at last… Or at least you could have sworn.

You froze, terrified and bewildered, the door swinging shut behind you, as you discovered a boy who looked about your age. Who-? There, sitting on the rooftop, earbuds in, eyes closed, leaning back on an HVAC unit, was some random stranger. He had messy brown hair, chapped lips, an olive green jacket, ripped black skinny jeans, dirty sneakers, and a backpack. You glanced behind you in disbelief, wondering how he even got up here if the lock to the door was secure, and then turned to stare at him again, head tilted back and tapping his feet to what you could only assume was the music blasting through his earbuds. He looked almost as exhausted and tired as you were. How the hell did he even get up here? Much less, why would he be up here at 3am? It was the middle of the night. You walked towards him, each step closer, the music blaring in his earbuds growing louder, which you instantly recognized as the Ramones. At least he had good taste in music. But you were too irritated to care. He was infiltrating the one special place you went when you needed to relax, and you weren’t tolerating it for a moment.

“Hey jackass,” you nudged him with your shoe and he jumped up, terrified, earbuds falling out of his ears as he looked up at you. “How’d you get up here?”

“Fucking hell-” he clutched his chest, struggling to catch his breath, looking at you confused.

“Who are you?” you raised an eyebrow inquisitively, and he scowled.

“Me? How did you get up here? Who are you?” he asked breathlessly, still recovering from being startled awake.

“You’re not supposed to be up here, you know,” you scolded and he narrowed his eyes.

“And you are?” he looked you up and down, unconvinced.

“Look…” you cleared your throat, frustrated. “I just came up here to get some peace and quiet after a very long, very stressful shift because nobody is ever up here, and well, I guess today I was proven wrong.”

He frowns, looking guilty, and it’s in this moment you start to think he’s actually kind of cute. He ran his hands through his messy brown hair and looked up at you, pressing his lips together for a moment, thinking, and then looking down and collecting the wires of his earbuds into his pocket. “Sorry I didn’t realize you had dibs on this particular rooftop,” he muttered softly, rolling his eyes. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

You eyed him carefully as he stood up, slinging his backpack onto his shoulder and nodding to you with an apologetic smile. You cock your head to the side as he turns around, as if to leave, and your confusion only grows tenfold. “No really, how’d you get up here?” you wondered, and he stops in his tracks. “Do you live here?”

“Uh…” he turned back around to face you, looking almost guilty. “Fire escape?” It sounded more like a question than an answer.

“Oh,” you stared at him strangely, and then he promptly walked away, disappearing behind another HVAC system. You didn’t know there were any fire escapes that lead up to the roof of the building. Curious, you followed behind him at a healthy distance, but when you turned the corner, he was gone. You blinked. Seriously, what the hell?

Shaking your head, still confused, you groaned and laid down on the roof, looking up at the stars. What a strange experience. You hated yourself for thinking he was kind of hot. But at least it was over and you were alone now. Your mind lingered on who he might be, how he got up here, what he was doing on your roof. Especially at such a late hour of the night. Whatever. It didn’t really concern you. But it did. You couldn’t stop thinking about it. About him.

The next day, you decided to stop by one of your favorite coffee shops after school to get a head start on your homework, reading and analyzing five chapters of Silberberg’s “Chemistry: The Molecular Nature of Matter and Change.” You sit down with an iced vanilla lavender latte and your textbook, opening up a notebook and starting to jot down some notes. You did a good job of paying attention in your lectures, which made things fairly simple when it came to homework, because it was essentially just a review of all the things you had learned in class that day. You were halfway through a page about Kinetic-Molecular Theory when you heard a familiar voice and your head shot up. There he was. The boy from yesterday.

“Just a small hot americano for me,” he smiled softly to the barista.

Peeking up from your textbook, you studied him, dressed today in a blue long sleeve shirt and denim jeans, holding a skateboard and a camera hanging around his neck, same backpack from yesterday on his shoulders. He was actually cute, you weren’t just dreaming yesterday. Charming, but in a dorky awkward kind of way. You watched as he fished into his pockets to pay with crumpled up ones and a handful of quarters, and then stared at the bulletin board full of ads as he waited for his coffee. You wanted to go talk to him, to say something, to ask him how he got down from the roof that night, how he disappeared so quickly, but you felt frozen in your seat, just watching him quietly.

“Peter Parker!” the barista called out and he perked up, spinning around to retrieve his coffee before walking out the door, instantly tossing down his skateboard and speeding away. You chewed on your bottom lip thoughtfully. Peter Parker. That was his name. You wanted to get to know him. But you just didn’t know how. 

The rest of the week slowly trudged on. Lectures and homework and weekends at the bar, facetiming your friends and catching up with them when you could, trading hours of sleep for iced coffee, ordering in food instead of heating up your leftovers in the fridge. It was a typical week for you. Nothing too crazy ever happened in your life, or at least nothing you couldn’t handle. Sometimes your friends would come to you with some sort of drama. Or maybe there was a rowdy customer at work you needed your manager to kick out. Or they ran out of your favorite kind of pastry at your coffee shop. Silly, mundane, not-so-eventful inconveniences were the kinds of things you were used to. You mostly kept to yourself, especially since moving to New York and starting college and this new job. Nothing exciting ever really happened to you. That was, until Tuesday rolled around.

Normally, you didn’t work on Tuesdays. You opted for the weekends when it was busier. Better tips, better crowd, better vibes in general. But school was boring and most of your friends were busy, so you had been picking up extra shifts at the bar to pass the time. Tuesdays were slow, mostly older folks drinking beer and watching the news on the television, a handful of younger couples, and maybe a group of friends grabbing cocktails after work. Towards the end of the night, things fizzled out, and you found yourself to be the only one left in the bar, starting to close up. You sighed, wiping down the counters with a soapy rag, when you heard the door swing open. “We’re about to close soon so-” You paused mid sentence when you glanced up, making eye contact with the man who just stepped into your business. Or should you say, men.

Three tall guys in black ski masks and leather jackets walked in, each holding a gun in hand, staring at you intensely. Each of them were probably twice your size. You paled, fear climbing up your chest and into your throat, and you froze as they approached you, one of your worst fears coming to life. “We’ll make this real simple for you, sweetheart,” the first man said, snickering, pointing the gun to your forehead. “You’re going to hand us all the money in the registers. And then you’re going to hand us all the money in your pockets. And then you’re gonna walk my buddy here to the back office and hand us all the money in the safe. Understand?”

You stared at them, terrified, nodding slowly. Fuck. This is why you never worked weekdays. This is why you never worked closing. You had never felt more stupid. You shouldn’t have tried to pick up extra shifts this week. You should have just stayed home and studied. You should have, at the very least, asked someone else to close with you. Silently cursing in your head, your shaky hands found their way towards the register, typing in the code on the POS to open it, when the door swung open again.

“Don’t you fellas know it’s rude to walk into a business ten minutes before closing?” a voice joked and you looked up to find… Spider-Man? Your jaw dropped slightly, and before you even had time to react, the masked hero was slinging a web towards the criminal who threatened you, prying the gun out of his hand and webbing to the wall behind him. You gasped at the swift action, and then watched as he repeated it for the next two robbers, yanking the guns out of their hands before all three of them charged at him, swinging punches he expertly dodged. Caught off guard by the sudden violence, you ducked your head underneath the bar, sitting on the floor and burying your face in your hands, sliding back against the fridge and hyperventilating.

“Take this, Spider-Man!” one of the assailants screamed and you heard what sounded like wood breaking and you instantly flinched at the sound.

“Now that was completely unnecessary,” the hero scolded, and you hear more commotion and shouting before, silence? You peek up from behind the bar and take a moment to drink it all in.

Spider-Man with his hands on his hips, looking almost proud, admiring the way he has the three robbers webbed together and stuck against the window. Their mouths are webbed shut, their guns plastered to the wall beside them, squirming and thrashing about underneath the sticky restraints. The chairs are tossed about, one of the tables completely upturned, and a broken barstool laying on the floor. He dusted his hands off smugly before turning around to face you, almost surprised you’re still there. You had only ever seen Spider-Man in the news. On the television screen and in the morning paper and sometimes on signs or billboards when you took the subway. But never in person. Never this close.

“Uh, thank you,” you swallowed nervously, still shaking, staring at him from behind the bar.

“You alright?” he tilted his head to the side, examining you from a distance. The big white bug eyes on his mask widen and you take a step back, startled. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Me?” you look at him, confused.

“Yeah I feel like maybe we’ve met before…” Spider-Man continued to stare at you and then shook his head. “Sorry, nevermind. You okay though? Are you hurt?”

“No, no I’m fine,” you reassured, hesitantly walking out from behind the bar. “Just a little shaken up. The bar on the other hand…”

“I’m sorry about that,” he apologized, looking around at the mess he caused. “On the brightside, I caught The Three Stooges.”

“This is true,” you laughed softly, the fight or flight intensity in your body slowly dissipating. “Thank you. Again.”

“Oh no problem. No problem at all. And hey, don’t worry about all this mess,” he insisted, waving his hands around, gesturing at the aftermath of his little debacle. “I’ll clean it up for you and call the cops and whatnot. Why don’t you just get home safe, yeah?”

You blinked, almost shocked, but he did have a point. What were you going to do? Lock up the store and pretend like nothing happened? You certainly didn’t want to be the one stuck cleaning up his mess. “Are you sure?” you wondered, still a bit fazed by the entire situation.

“Yeah it’s late,” he nodded. “You deserve to go home and get some rest.”

“O-okay…” you stammered, still staring at the vigilante in disbelief. He was taller than you imagined. And his voice was deeper than you thought it would be. His red and blue suit was surprisingly well tailored. And he was just as athletic and badass and quick on his feet as all the YouTube videos portrayed him to be. It was a bit surreal to be standing in front of him right now, face to face, in your place of work. He saved you. You blushed and smiled awkwardly, exhaling a sigh of relief. “Well thanks, Spider-Man.”

“Anytime,” he hit you with a swift thumbs up and you laughed once again. “Stay safe out there, kid.”

Walking home that night, you were still in shock. Did that seriously just happen? Three big burly guys in ski masks with guns just tried to rob you. Very terrifying and not at all cool. But the one and only friendly neighborhood Spider-Man swooped in and saved the day? Very exciting and incredibly cool. You wondered if you should tell your friends. You wondered if they would even believe you. You smiled like a fool the entire way home. Taking the elevator up to the thirty sixth floor, and then fiddling with the lock to the maintenance closet, you grinned even wider when the cold breeze hit your face, unwinding in your favorite place in all of New York, your apartment’s rooftop.

The myriad of city lights glowing dozens of stories below made your heart flutter twice as hard in your chest tonight with the lingering adrenaline in your system. You sighed dreamily at the memory of Spider-Man saving you, asking if you were okay. When you first moved to NYC, you obviously knew of Spider-Man, and you saw him here and there on the front page of the Daily Bugle or on some kid’s t-shirt at the bus stop or plastered on the clickbait caption of an Instagram ad, but you certainly never expected to run into him. Much less, talk to him. Some of the girls at your school were obsessed with him, running fan pages on social media or having saved photos of him as the wallpaper on their phone. You weren’t enamored with him to that extent, you would hardly even call yourself a fan, but now, you had to admit, your interest was the slightest bit piqued. After today’s events, you had grown a soft spot for the city’s masked vigilante.

Staring at the cluster of street lights and glowing windows underneath you, you caught a blur of red and blue out of the corner of your eye, and smiled at the sight. There he was, swinging through the city, probably off to stop the next bank robbery or drug deal. You couldn’t help but swoon as he disappeared in the distance. Farewell, Spider-Man.

[thepatricktreestump]

*whispers* so i've been writing again...

[thepatricktreestump]

no clue if you ever come on here anymore but just wanted to say I loved reading ur fics years ago. I still think about you from time to time and the community you made online was very supportive and you got me through some rough times. so thank you.

Thank you. Tumblr has changed my life in so many amazing ways... I am just as thankful for you as you are to me. I miss those times, felt like a golden age, when I would post a new fan fiction every day or when I was working on a series. Live-streaming, doing Q&As, Skyping my long distance friends, creating group chats... I just always wanted to create a space where people could feel not so alone, where they could feel loved and accepted. If you've ever read any of my fics or was part of the community I had created for us, thank you so much.

P.S. I am still writing, I just don't post as much as I used to... I might upload some fan fiction in the future, I have a Brendon Urie one I'm working on and a Peter Parker series if that interests anybody.

[thepatricktreestump]

Miss Me? - Brendon Urie x Reader

((NSFW!!! smut, cheating, heavy coercion, love-bombing and “i love you”, praise, daddy kink, breeding, pregnancy mention, blowjob, face fucking, fingering, unprotected sex obviously, cuddles))

Author’s Note: I know this blog is pretty much a ghost town, I rarely post anymore and I’m sorry about that! My life has been so crazy and busy but if you’d like to know what I’m up to nowadays you can always follow me on Instagram at @insomniacauden :) I’m going to be completely honest with you, this fanfic was written 100% out of self-indulgence, but after consulting with a friend, she encouraged me to upload it in any chance you might also enjoy. Very much Saudade vibes, the reader is cheating on her long-term boyfriend Josh Dun with the ever-so-tempting Brendon Urie. There are a lot of continuity errors written simply to fit my own personal narrative, but just ignore it or assume it’s up for your own interpretation lol. I love and miss you all, and for new readers who have no idea what the fuck I’m rambling on about, ignore this long ass prologue and just enjoy!!!

Moonlight seeped through the edges of your curtains, illuminating your figure that laid in bed. Wrapped in blankets, eyelids fluttered to a close, chest rising and falling rhythmically with each breath, you slept in peace. Living alone was quiet, mundane, and sometimes lonely, but it brought about a certain serenity throughout your home. There was little to no disturbance, you stayed up in a studio apartment in New York City all on your own, didn’t have many guests or visitors, and mostly kept to yourself. Your boyfriend lived on the other side of the country, recording songs and playing shows for millions of kids across the nation. Sure, you loved him, and wanted more than anything to be with him, but for now you needed space. You were working on finishing up your college degree and he was writing an album with his best friend. You were both success driven and had agreed your relationship needed to be put on pause for the sake of your careers.

Josh was pretty great as far as boyfriends go, he was attentive and caring, but also outgoing and charming all the same. His hair color changed as often as the seasons, his face adorned with an array of piercings, limbs decorated in vibrant tattoos, and a smile that could light up the room- he was irresistible, really. Most would call it love at first sight, but you just called it destiny. Despite any of your arguments or insecurities, everything always worked out in the end, and your relationship became stronger than ever. His best friend Tyler had described you as the best thing that had ever happened to him, especially after his last brutal breakup, and his mother constantly joked that you two were conjoined at the hip. So going long distance for the first time since you two had started the relationship was definitely rough, especially when conflicting time zones were involved.

You felt a dip in the mattress behind you, and you sighed softly, slightly stirring in your sleep. “Hmm?” you began to flutter your eyes open when you felt the sheets rise up and fall back down, a warm figure behind you, their body pressing up against yours. “Josh, is that you?” You wouldn’t know who else it could possibly be. Still intoxicated with slumber, you assumed perhaps your boyfriend had flown the distance to see you because he had missed you, a surprise perhaps, but it was the voice who responded that scared you more.

“You couldn’t possibly think it was really him, could you?” a deep gravely voice chuckled from behind you, sliding his hand over your bare hip and gripping it tightly, holding you firmly in place as he pressed up against you more, his plump lips grazing against your ear as he whispered.

“B-Brendon?” you stammered and he instantly tightened his grip around your waist, making you freeze.

“Miss me?” he responded coyly and you instantly shoved his hand off your waist, turning around in bed, any sleepiness within you now drained from your system. Here he was, only centimeters from you, barely clothed in your bed, dark hair and even darker eyes alluring you. You hadn’t thought of him in months. You could have sworn you locked the door. Thoughts raced in your mind as you doubted whether or not this was even real.

“What are you doing here?” you inquired, terrified and infatuated all the same. His lips looked so big and pink and soft, his eyes warm and inviting, his hair tousled and messy, the five o’clock shadow outlining his jaw- you wanted nothing more than to touch him. No. That was wrong. You had to defend yourself, defend him. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Do you now?” Brendon mused. “I don’t seem to see him around.”

“He’s in Ohio,” you struggled to respond, muscling through the lump caught in your throat. “Recording the album with Tyler.”

“Ah…” he drew out the reaction slowly, eyes flickering down to your lips before arriving above to meet your gaze again. “That’s a shame, I had assumed you would have been a priority. I always had thought you to be.”

“I am,” you insisted, but he closed his eyes, shaking his head ever so slightly, hiding a dangerous sort of smile.

“Darling, if you were, it would be him in this bed right now instead of me,” he argued, reaching a hand up to touch your cheek.

“This is wrong…” you attempted to look away, breaking from his gaze, but his fingers caught your chin and lifted your face to remain poised across from his.

“You don’t really think he’s going to stick around, now do you?” he dared to ask, gaze piercing yours. “He’s simply going to hurt you, going to leave, going to break your heart just like all the boys you’ve loved before. They all come and go, darling. Each and every one of them. Even Josh.” His face leaned in close to yours, nose brushing the top of your lip before nudging upwards, his warm breath against your mouth, barely pressing into a kiss. “But you know I’ll always be here. From before your first boyfriend to after your very last, I’ll always love you. I’ll never leave.”

Without thinking, you closed your eyes and pressed your lips up against his, just to entertain the thought of the sensation of his mouth on yours. His body instantly gravitated towards you, the warmth of his chest radiating into you, the mess of your legs slowly becoming tangled together, his hands reaching behind your head to pull you closer to him. His tongue parted your lips and slowly entered, sliding against your tongue, an indescribable wave of heat flooding over you. You had never done anything like this with Brendon, only temptations of the idea lingering in your dreams as you thought of the man who seemed to follow wherever you went. Brendon was like a shadow in your mind, always with you, always watching, ready to be there whenever you needed him. But you didn’t need him now, did you?

Slowly reeling back into your senses, you faltered, pulling away, and he pressed his palms into the small of your back, almost as if physically pleading. “Bren…” your voice trailed off now and you pressed your lips together, silently cursing yourself for even kissing him, caught in a war between yourself. You shut your eyes tight, almost hoping he would disappear once you reopened them. He didn’t.

“You want this, y/n. I know you do,” he murmured, fingertips barely grazing against your spine, making you tremble. He was so warm, and inviting, those eyes boring into you, almost entrancing.

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t,” you confessed through a mumble, trying to look for an answer within his gaze, but finding none. Guilt coursed through your body, eating you alive.

“I would tell you that he doesn’t need to know,” Brendon begins, dipping his hand down the small of your back into the fabric of your panties, eliciting a gasp when he squeezes your ass tight, sinking his fingernails into your flesh. “But truthfully, maybe he does. It would speed up the process, perhaps he could break up with you now, save you the heartbreak to come later.”

Flinching at his words, you paused, guilt panging in your heart. “D-do you really think that?” you inquired hesitantly. “That he’s going to leave me?”

“Oh darling, if he wasn’t before, he definitely is going to now,” he simply laughs, giving your ass another squeeze as he lower his mouth to your ear and his voice to a growl. “Especially after I fuck a baby into that tight little pussy of yours.”

Both your eyes go wide, an immediate warmth rushing to your core. “Brendon I… I really don’t think… I’m not on any… You shouldn’t-” you stammer, rendered speechless, unable to process what he’s told you.

“Oh, but I am,” he croons, his low voice making your body quiver as he holds you in place. “I’m going to fuck your pretty face, and then after you get my cock nice and hard and wet with your sweet sloppy little tongue, then I’ll pound that pussy until I’ve worked myself so deep inside of you, I just can’t bring myself to pull out.”

“What about J-Josh?” you frantically tried to read his gaze and he seemed almost amused.

“What about Josh?” he tossed the question back at you coyly. “All that talk of breeding you and he never really did, did he? Empty promises I presume, among many others.”

“I’m not ready to be pregnant,” you argue, voice wavering with uncertainty. “T-that’s why we never- I never let him-”

“Ah but you wanted it, didn’t you?” Brendon mused, running his hand up and down the length of your back, dark eyes boring into you. “Deep down, I know how desperately you wanted it. Just like you want this.”

“Just because you want something doesn’t mean you should have it,” you swallowed roughly, trying to pull yourself back into reality, though his touch alone was simply intoxicating.

“But you deserve it, love,” he insisted with a chaste kiss to the forehead. “I want to be able to give you something you’ve never had, something nobody else has been able to give you, something…” He stops, searching for the right words, his lips pursed together in concentration. “Something that is proof of my love for you.”

“I know you love me, Bren,” you whispered, reaching a hand up to caress his face. “You don’t ever need to prove that to me, you know.”

“I know,” he resonated slowly. “But I want to.”

“Well…” you hesitated, and he began to bring his lips back again towards yours.

“It’s a question of desire, darling. And I desire nothing but you.”

He was right. He always had. All your other relationships, including the one you had with Josh, it contained history. Messy, brutal, heart wrenching confessions and catastrophes of all the people they have had a taste of before, messily carved into the bedpost, keeping some sort of score in the back of your mind, a constant comparison. But with Brendon, it was never like that. There hadn’t even seemed to be some sort of beginning, nor end, no past, or future. The mutual desire between the two of you simply always had been, there was no question about it. And despite whomever you had lured into your bed or perhaps crawled into theirs, at the end of the day, Brendon was always waiting for you. You almost owed it to him.

“Why?” you dared yourself to ask aloud. “Why are you always still here? Even after I choose everyone but you?”

“Because, love…” his eyes softened as he brushed his thumb against your cheek. “I was made for you.”

Staring up at him, the heat of your bodies pressed up against each other underneath your sheets, you seemed to be at war with yourself. One part of you, your brain, was screaming that you had already done plenty wrong and you needed to stop before things progressed worse. But the other part of you, your body, it felt ever so drawn towards Brendon, a certain craving as though you’ve never needed anything in your life more desperately than this. You bit your lower lip, eyes grazing over his features, noting the dark lust in his expression and his parted lips waiting for another kiss. Suddenly, you felt a certain wetness dripping between your legs and your mind seemed to go blank. “What do I need to do to please you?” you exhaled.

“There’s my good girl,” his soft smile broke out into a mischievous grin. “Kiss me, darling.”

And so you did. Leaving all your inhibitions and reservations behind, you devoured his lips, the taste of whiskey and peppermint and nicotine and something sultry on his tongue now seeping onto yours. His mouth trailed onto your jaw and down to your neck, causing you to tilt your head up, sighs spilling from your lips as he sucked at your skin, nipping slightly with his teeth, somehow situating himself above you. Instinctually, you parted your legs and he rested his hips between yours, and you gasped once you felt his length press against your core. The friction alone was almost enough to make you come. “Brendon…” you whimpered as he began to grind against you, leaving hickeys down your neck, kissing down towards your breasts.

“Take this off,” he ordered, tugging up at your loose shirt, and so you swiftly did, leaving yourself in nothing but your panties now. He slowly drank you in, rough palms making their way up your sides as he scooped your chest inwards, squeezing hard at your tits and a smile slowly creeping at the corner of his lips as he pinched your nipples. His eyes flickered up to yours.

“What?” you suddenly became self-conscious, worried something was wrong.

“Oh nothing…” he gently reassured. “Just thinking about how big and swollen your breasts will be when they fill up with milk after I’ve bred you.” The words alone made your stomach double and he chuckled darkly, pinching your nipples harder before squeezing at your tits once again. “You won’t have to worry about any overflow, I’ll gladly take care of that.”

“Bren-” you gasped as he caught one of your breasts in his mouth, suckling you harshly, causing your eyes to nearly roll to the back of your head. You buried your hand in his hair, tugging at his dark locks and hissing as he bit down hard on your nipple, then quickly flicked his tongue over the tender spot to make the pain fade away. “Careful, baby.”

“I’ll be as careful as I want to be,” he retorted, mouth switching towards the other as he roughly groped you, his erection now brushing against your clit and making you needier than ever.

“I need you,” you whined. “Please, daddy.”

“That’s right,” he licked his lips as he came up to meet his tongue with yours once again, kissing you sloppily as one hand swiftly grabbed a fistful of your hair. He tugged hard, eliciting another gasp from you, and smirked. “Keep calling me daddy and I’ll make you a mommy by the end of the night.”

“Fuck…” your legs trembled and he lifted himself up off of you, causing you to unintentionally whine at the loss of contact between your legs.

“Off the bed. On your knees,” he commanded. “Now.”

“Y-yes sir,” you managed to reply, shakily getting up from off the bed and finding your way towards the floor, kneeling down for him. He sat on the edge of the bed in his boxer briefs, studying you carefully, watching your big needy eyes look up at him with longing and desperation. He ran a hand through his messy hair and hummed with approval. His cock was fully erect now, head peeking out from underneath the waistband, and your mouth watered as you watched him slowly palm himself through the fabric. You knew what was coming next.

“I just find it funny…” Brendon began, still slowly toying with himself over his boxers. “That moments ago, you were so hesitant to even kiss me, spewing excuses and insisting on how wrong this all was, acting so confused and shy and worried.” He chuckled as he stood up from the edge of the bed and slid his boxers down, exposing himself and letting his cock spring free, watching as your eyes dilated, fixed on the sight. “And now when I tell you to get on your knees for me, there isn’t even a pause before I’m being told an eager ‘yes sir,’ hmmm? That’s an interesting development if you ask me.” He steps out from his boxers and moves towards you, his erection fully exposed and inches from your face now, and you can see the precum dripping from his slit already. “So, I’m not going to order you around this time, darling. Instead, I’m going to ask.” He pumps himself a couple times for good measure and then looks down at your longing eyes, already fully knowing the answer. “That’s only fair, right? To give you a choice, no?” You slowly nod, gaze locked with him. “Good girl. Now do you want to suck my cock or not?”

“Yes sir,” you quickly answered, reverting your gaze back towards his hand wrapped around his length, staring in a daze as you watched the precum dripping down the head. “I want to suck your cock so bad.”

“That’s what I thought,” he hummed, taking another step towards you until the head of his cock was pressed up against your lips. “Now be a good little slut and open up wide.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You did as told, opening your mouth and allowing the head of his member to push past your lips, slowly licking at his slit before flattening your tongue and sliding underneath, taking in more. His hands gathered your hair, bunching it up into a makeshift ponytail with his hands, then readjusting into a firmer grip until he could control your movements simply with the flick of his wrist. “God…” you moaned around his cock in your mouth as you took him deeper, starting to gag as you felt him reaching the back of your throat, eyes watering.

“Keep it up good girl,” he soothed. “You’re doing such a good job for me. Take my dick in your mouth, take all that you can, there you go. Be a good little slut for me. I know you can do it.”

“Fuck-” you caught yourself choking as he shoved the rest of himself inside of you, head fully hitting the back of your throat as his balls slapped against your chin, and you heard him let out a deep groan, knowing this was just the beginning. He couldn’t hear your feeble protests between you gagging around his cock and quite literally choking, tears beginning to fall down your face as he gripped your hair harder and guided you back and forth, slowly fucking your mouth.

“God that feels so fucking good,” he moaned, bucking his hips into your head as he began to pick up the pace, his dick ramming into your throat over and over again, causing you to full on sob at this point. He simply laughed when he looked down at you, the pleasure overtaking him, condescending tone now replacing his sweet praises. “That’s right you fucking slut, cry for me. What’s wrong? Is my cock too big for your little mouth? I thought you wanted this.” He shoved harder and deeper, your desperate attempt to give yourself some slack quickly foiled as he tugged at fistfuls of your hair and forced you to deepthroat him, holding you there for several seconds, suffocating you before eventually pulling all the way out. “Fuck, you took my entire cock in your mouth, you fucking whore.” You coughed violently, drool dripping down your chin and onto your breasts as you desperately wheezed for air, eyes stinging with tears as he laughed even more. “Pathetic though, seeing as you didn’t even let me finish.”

“I’m s-sorry, s-s-sorry,” you struggled to stammer out, still catching your breath, salty aftertaste on your tongue. No, he didn’t finish, but you could tell he came close. You could taste it.

“That’s okay,” he insisted, caressing your face and reaching his open palms out to help you stand. “I didn’t want to finish in your mouth anyways. I have other plans for you tonight, darling.”

“Bren…” your voice trailed off as he helped you onto your feet and tugged your panties down your legs. He guided you to step out of them and then went to kiss you again before noticing how close you were to your breaking point, your legs weak and sore, mouth and throat fucked raw, underwear now completely soaked with your wetness. He took a moment to simply hug you, palm pressing into your back softly with one hand and petting your hair with the other, comforting you like a small child, hushing you until your tears mostly subsided.

“Hey, you did a good job, babydoll,” he whispered softly into your ear, voice turning sweet again. “It’s okay. Shh, it’s alright. Come here.” He held you there in the quiet and stillness of your bedroom, the darkness shrouding you both, the moonlight from behind the curtains still cascading onto your mattress as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “Let’s lay down on the bed, sweetheart.”

“O-okay,” you hiccupped, slowly able to catch your breath and tears drying against your cheeks as he scooped you up into his arms and placed you on the mattress carefully. He hovered above you for a moment before getting comfortable, laying his body down atop of yours, erection hard and wet and pressed against your stomach, his forehead against your own, lips barely touching.

“Are you alright, love?” he checked, and you could sense the worry in the way he furrowed his brow and pressed his lips together, genuinely wondering if he took it too far.

“I’m okay,” you insisted. “I just…” You stopped yourself, genuinely curious as to where this was going. He was right. In the past, Josh had talked about breeding you, even fucked you as though he had meant to, but there was always a stopping point. He was never serious about it, it wasn’t the reality you two had agreed upon, or could possibly even entertain. Especially now that you were long distance. You had taken birth control, or even a Plan B afterwards, or just toyed with the idea as he came inside a condom. But the way Brendon was talking, and from the seriousness in his voice, you had a feeling this wasn’t just a fantasy anymore. He was being for real.

Seeming to have read your mind, Brendon nodded, dark brown eyes boring into yours, his cock seeming to press harder into your abdomen. “I’m serious, darling,” he murmured. “I will, if you’ll let me. You just have to give in.”

“I’m scared, Brendon,” you confessed, tears nearly welling up in your eyes once more. “I’m not on any birth control, and I’m so young, and I’ve never done something like this before, and what about Josh, what will I tell him once he finds out, what if he-”

“Just trust me,” he held your face in his hands, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before looking at you longingly. “Don’t worry about any of that. Forget about Josh. Forget about your worries. I just want you to focus on me right now. Focus on us. On what feels good. On what you want. Okay?” Still nervous, your gaze wandered towards the door, as if your boyfriend would walk in and catch you in the act any second, and he clicked his tongue disapprovingly, tilting your head back up to meet his gaze. “Do you want this?”

“So badly,” you allowed yourself to barely whisper in response.

“Then it’s okay,” Brendon reassured. “Darling, I love you. And I just want you to give me the chance to prove that to you. Give me a reason for you to choose me for once. Forget about the rest of the world. Trust me. Please.”

“Bren…” you still hesitated, terrified.

“Do you love me?” he wondered. You nodded. “Then let me. Please.”

Without saying a word, you simply parted your legs and he sighed with relief, one of his hands cupping the warmth between your legs. He hummed, letting one of his fingers press up against your wetness, gathering it towards your clit and gently rubbing in circles, causing you to whimper. “It can’t possibly be wrong if it feels this good, no?” he mused, sliding his finger down and adding another, toying at your entrance before pushing in, causing you to moan. “Good girl. That’s right. Let me try and stretch you out before I fuck you with my cock. God, you’re tight.” Your walls clenched around his fingers as he swirled them inside of you, collecting your juices and pumping in and out before adding a third, attempting to stretch you open wider. You whined at the sensation and he kissed your neck in hopes of comforting you, meanwhile slowly bucking his hips up and grinding his cock against your thigh.

“I need you,” you begged. “Please Bren, I can’t take it anymore. I want to feel you inside of me. I want you so bad. Please fuck me.”

“I don’t know…” he teased, toying at your clit once again, rubbing in frantic circles as your body shuddered underneath him. “Like you said, what would Josh think?”

“I don’t care about him, I want you, I need you,” you sputtered without thinking, heat building up in your core as he pinched your clit, making you cry out.

“That’s right babygirl, tell me how much you want me,” he growled, positioning his cock at your entrance, gathering your wetness with his head.

“I need you so bad, Brendon,” you whined. “I have to have you inside of me, I want you to fuck me, I need it, I need you.”

“You want me to fuck a baby inside of you?” he asked, dark lust filled eyes staring into yours, searching for approval.

“Yes, please, fuck yes,” you nodded frantically. He gripped your hips tightly and closed his eyes, groaning as he slowly entered you, making you gasp in pleasure and shock. He carefully filled you inch by inch, and as you had remembered from sucking him off earlier, you could feel just how long and thick he was stretching you out. You hooked your legs around his waist as you pulled him in deeper, gasping for air as you sheathed his length completely, his face buried in your neck and making the most beautiful collection of noises.

“Fuck darling…” he struggled to catch his breath before he slowly drew himself out, then pushed all the way back in, lips catching yours. Your kissed passionately, him working his way in and out of you until he found a steady rhythm, carefully stretching out your walls and pushing deeper, working his way inside of you. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

“As do you,” you panted, legs still locked around his waist, drawing him in and letting him pull out before sliding him into you once again. The sensation was absolutely euphoric. He slid in and out of you with ease, building up your wetness, until he pulled out and roughly grabbed you by the hips.

“Turn around, ass up,” he ordered, and you did as told, him spanking you roughly in return. “Good girl.” He positioned himself at your entrance and shoved himself into you all at once, the new position making your head spin, and you screamed into the pillow in pleasure. He rocked his hips back and forth against your ass, fucking you harder and faster, and you could feel him going deeper as he did so.

“Please don’t stop daddy,” you pleaded as you felt your walls start to clench around him, nearing orgasm. “I’m going to come.”

“Yes, please, I want you to come for me,” Brendon agreed, reaching his hand towards your pussy and rubbing at your clit, making you whine as you adhered to his movements, fucking yourself on his dick. “Be a good girl and come for daddy.” His words practically unraveled you and you cried into the pillow once again as you felt yourself give way, walls tightening and contracting sporadically before finally releasing around his shaft, wetness dripping down your legs, the rush of the high overwhelming your senses, but he kept relentlessly fucking you. “Oh god, babygirl, fuck…”

“It feels so good,” you whimpered, senses overwhelmed as you felt his thrusts become more desperate and messy, and in that moment, reality hit you all at once, realizing what was about to happen. “Wait, w-wait Brendon wait-”

“What?” he seethed, suddenly stopping, and you froze, terrified.

“I just… I want to look at you when you do it,” you insisted breathily, still shaking post orgasm, trying to turn around to face him despite your position. His cruel expression softened, the anger of you ruining his orgasm when he was so close starting to fade away. “Please, let me turn around so I can be closer to you when you come inside me. I want to look into your eyes while it happens.”

He paused, unclenching his jaw. “Okay, you’re right. Give me a second, okay princess?” he complied, pulling out of you and letting you turn onto your back, smiling softly as your legs wrapped around his waist once again. “I have a better idea though.” He took your legs and hooked them around his shoulders instead, positioning yourself differently. “This way I’m even deeper.”

“Thank you, Brendon,” you whispered and he pressed a kiss to your lips gently.

“Anything for you, darling,” he smiled as he pushed himself deep inside you with no warning, gaining a loud moan from you, your head jolting back in ecstasy. He began to fuck you again, and each time he thrust into you he moved deeper and deeper, until you could feel the head of his cock hitting your cervix. “Fuck, I’m so deep…”

“Oh god,” you clawed your fingernails down his back to cope with the feeling of him ramming into you like that, him gaining momentum and going faster, deeper, and harder, each thrust becoming more animalistic and needy. “Please, please I need you…”

“I’m going to cum so deep inside of you I get you pregnant on the first try,” he growled in your ear and you whined at his words, eyes widening as you felt one of his hands reach for your throat, gripping your neck and starting to choke you. “You belong to me, darling. You’re going to have my baby. No one else’s.” He choked you harder as he fucked you, your vision turning blurry and you gasping for air, and the moment he released his grip, he released inside of you. The sensation alone triggered your second orgasm.

Your vision turned white as you felt a certain warmth explode between your legs, a sticky thick liquid being shot deep inside of you, his cock twitching between your walls as he emptied his seed into your pussy, and you screamed into his chest as he let out a deep groan, nearly collapsing on top of you. He lazily thrust into you several times before turning limp, letting your pussy milk the very last drops out from his cock, and the weight of his sweaty body crushed you. You didn’t mind, you were too high off the pleasure to notice, the shock of knowing what had just happened, the sensation of his cum spilling inside of you and now coating your walls and dripping down your thighs, his cock growing soft but still resting inside of your cunt. You could have sworn he came right against your cervix too. Fuck.

The room went silent, nothing but the sound of both of you gasping for air and trying to slow your racing heartbeats filling the void of the darkened bedroom. Moonlight no longer seeped from behind the curtains and onto the mattress, but faint sunlight. Had it really been that long? The two of you were dripping in sweat, eyes closed, naked bodies limp and pressed up against each other, blankets strung about the bed, clothes scattered on the floor. His skin felt so soft and warm against you, you almost didn’t mind his entire body weight pinning you down to the mattress. Plus, you were still very much riding the lingering high of your second orgasm, and the feeling of his seed spilling out from between your legs had your head reeling. Several moments passed before he finally stirred, collapsing onto the bed beside you for several seconds before drawing you in, letting you take a turn to lay on top of him now. Still struggling to catch his breath, he hummed, running his fingers through your messy hair, and then kissing your forehead.

“Thank you, baby,” he mumbled breathlessly. “That felt so good. You felt so good.”

“No, thank you,” you insisted, clearing your throat at an attempt to speak clearly. “I feel so high right now I can barely think straight-” He cut you off by placing his lips on yours, drawing you in for a messy kiss, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine making out with him right now.

“I love you,” he whispered when he finally pulled away. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Brendon,” you smiled softly back at him. He kissed you again, more forceful this time, and then sighed.

“You’re going to have my baby,” he reminded you, pressing a soft hand against your stomach. “We’re going to have a baby together.”

“Really?” you look at him, wide eyed, half terrified but half excited.

“Just you and me, love,” he reassured, nodding slowly. “I promise. I’ll fuck you a thousand times more until we get it right.”

“I actually wouldn’t mind that,” you laughed quietly, burying your face into his neck.

“Oh and believe me,” he chuckled, kissing you softly on the forehead. “Neither would I.”

[thepatricktreestump]

whatever you say - peter parker imagine

A/N: I don’t normally write nsfw spidey things but my fingers just wouldn’t stop typing so please do forgive me… not any actual smut, just lots of flirting and implications of sexual favors

               It was strange, but for some reason, you found complete comfort in the simplicity that was Peter Parker. He lived in a small apartment with his Aunt May in Forest Hills, went to Midtown High, and at first glance, seemed like your typical teenage boy. May worked as an ER nurse and Peter kept up on his studies, proving to be a straight A student who succeeded not only in school, but in extracurriculars and academic teams as well. He liked science and math, he was really good at building robots, and he thoroughly enjoyed memorizing equations. When he wasn’t acing his tests, he spent his free time building LEGOs and watching Star Wars in his apartment or walking through town and debating between eating pizza or sub sandwiches. He had a messy bedroom cluttered with dirty laundry, an assortment of different computer parts, and countless science textbooks and academic journals. Three months ago, when you first started dating Peter Parker, this is the boy you thought you knew.

               Your life, however, felt like the complete opposite. Being the daughter of Tony Stark, your day to day was far from simple. You lived in Stark Tower with Tony, cooped up on a floor with everything you could ever want or need, a master bedroom with a flat screen television, personal jacuzzi, walk in closet, arcade- you name it, Tony had it. School proved to be a breeze, and you had your MIT valedictorian of a father to thank for that, leaving you plenty of time for your own sort of extracurriculars. Rather than hang out at school and build lousy robots with Peter Parker, you’d much rather go to the lab and work on some high tech AI coding, super suit dynamics, or machine prototypes with your dad and the other avengers. He often urged you not to get too involved for your own safety, but you found yourself growing close with Bruce and Sam, bonding over your shared love for innovation. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t take after your father.

               However, months passed, and the more time you spent with Peter Parker, the more you caught onto the fact that his life might not have been as normal as you initially thought it was. He kept disappearing randomly, ghosting you on planned dates, or not showing up at school. At first you thought he was just nervous, or maybe he didn’t really like you, but upon further investigation, it was evident. His life was just as crazy as yours. Although you thought it was weird that he never bothered telling you he was Spider-Man, and even weirder he didn’t inform you that he previously knew your dad, you almost liked the fact that you could share your secret world of superhero knowledge with him. You found yourselves relating to each other by joking about Steve’s old fashioned manners or Natasha’s resting bitch face. Although, other times also through confiding secret fears or discussing worst possible outcomes.

               Tonight was one of the latter, you and Peter talking on the phone despite the time reading two in the morning, him trying to ease your anxiety. “It’s just been a couple days and Tony’s still not back yet…” you sighed, shrouded by your blankets, the soft glow of your phone illuminating the dark room. “He’s with Sam and he’s probably going to be just fine, but I’m still scared. And I know, I know. I’m not supposed have knowledge about those affiliated with the mission or his location, but sometimes I just can’t help but worry.”

               “It must be hard,” Peter hummed in sympathy. “I’m sorry you have to go through that. May feels the same way about me.”

               You paused for a moment. “I know it’s a horrible thing to think, and I’m probably just psyching myself out but-” your voice caught, shaking your head, closing your eyes. “Sometimes I wonder what if one day he just doesn’t come back.”

               “Hey,” Peter hushed. “Try not to think about that, okay? He’s Iron Man, y/n, he’s fought alien monsters and literal gods, he should be just fine. Mr. Stark never goes down without a fight, he’ll be back. I’m sure of it.”

               “I just can’t sleep not knowing,” you confessed, feeling sorry for dragging Peter into your own personal troubles. “I don’t know, I’m sorry… I’m probably keeping you up, and you have a calc test tomorrow-”

               “No, no, don’t apologize, you’re okay,” your sweet boyfriend insisted. He paused, listening to your heavy breathing. “Do you want me to come over?”

               “W-what?” you asked, confused.

               “I know it’s late but if it would make you feel better, I can come over,” Peter offered. “I’ll just come to your window and you can let me in that way. I can keep you company, you can talk to me, or we can watch a movie to get your mind off things, I don’t know. Only if you want to.”

               “You’d do that for me?” you wondered, growing soft at his words.

               “I just don’t want you to be sad,” he explained. “And I know it’s hard with your dad being gone and all, and sure Pepper’s there, but I know you’ve never really been that close with her, and I just- I don’t know. I feel like you’re lonely, and I want to help.”

               “Yeah, thank you,” you gave a soft smile. “I mean, if you want to, I wouldn’t fight you on it.”

               “Just be sure to disarm FRIDAY before I come,” he reminded. “I don’t need your dad putting bars on your windows the next time I try to visit you like this.”

               “Oh right!” you suddenly came to the realization. “Smart. I’ll go do that now.”

               “Cool, I’ll see you in a few. Don’t miss me too much,” he teased.

“Hey, be safe! No texting and swinging!” you reminded playfully as you hung up and instantly got to work, shedding your sheets and grabbing your laptop, sliding back into bed and working out some coding.

               Just as Tony had previously set up a baby monitor protocol on Peter’s suit, he had likewise set up parental controls through FRIDAY on all of your tower floor. You learned this when you tried to sneak out to a party Tony specifically forbid you from going to, and when you finally reached the elevator doors, FRIDAY locked you inside and you had to wait for Tony to come and get you. Since then, you’d been smart enough to disarm the system anytime you left your room after curfew or got into any other business Tony would obviously disapprove of. Spider-Man sneaking through your window at two in the morning to give you comfort cuddles? Probably something your father would disapprove of.

               Peter tapped twice and waved, you rolling your eyes and laughing, motioning for him to come in before he slid up the glass of your window and crawled through, brushing off his suit and tugging off his mask, smiling once he clearly saw you sitting in bed, wearing one of his hoodies, grinning back at him.

“Hey Spidey,” you beamed, watching as he walked over towards your bed, kissing you softly. He tasted sweet, like candy, and you melted into the kiss, grabbing the back of his head and staying there for a moment before pulling away. He gave the best kisses.

               “Heard someone needed some cheering up,” he whispered, tossing his mask on your night stand as you made grabby hands begging him to crawl into bed with you. He chuckled, giving in and situating himself underneath your covers awkwardly. You laughed alongside him, tugging him closer, pulling the sheets up over both of you, initially wincing at how cold his suit was when you went to wrap your arms around him.

               “You’re freezing, Peter,” you hissed and he chuckled, rolling his eyes.

               “It was windy outside, alright?” he sighed. “Come warm me up.”

               “Well come closer, doofus,” you chuckled. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him, your head resting against his shoulder, arm draped over his chest, fingers playing with locks of his hair. Your voice grew to a soft whisper. “Thanks for coming, baby.”

               “Anything for you, love,” he insisted, his hand rubbing soft circles on the small of your back. The room grew quiet, his hands trailing up and down your back, your fingers brushing through his messy brown locks, both of you simply enjoying each other’s company. At some point you both fell asleep, soft snores dissipating throughout the room, holding each other.

                In the morning, Peter begrudgingly convinced himself he had to get up and get ready for school, kissing you on the forehead and reassuring he’d see you at lunch later that day. You groaned yourself, realizing you should probably get up and resume FRIDAY’s commands before Pepper or Happy got suspicious as to why she wasn’t giving them any updates on your morning status. You took a shower and threw on some clothes, getting ready for the school day, smiling once you saw Peter waiting for you by your locker, a Starbucks cup in his hand.

               “What’s this?” you couldn’t help but laugh in surprise.

               “Well I know you were sad last night and again, I just wanted to cheer you up,” he shrugged, and you found it adorable that you had been dating for going on four months now and he still got flustered being around you. “I know you like the pink one with the strawberries and the coconuts, but they were out, so I got you a peach lemonade instead, I hope that’s okay-”

               “It’s wonderful, Peter,” you insisted, taking a sip and smiling fondly at your boyfriend. “Thank you. For everything. Really.”

               “Damn Peter, you’re buying y/n Starbucks now?” Ned approached both of you. “You never buy me Starbucks.”

               “I’m not dating you, Ned,” Peter narrowed his eyes, laughing.

               “You don’t have to kiss me to buy me a cold brew,” Ned sighed.

               “Anyways,” you rolled your eyes at the two boys quarreling. “You ready for that calculus exam?”

               “I studied all night,” Ned smiled. “I’ve got this one down. How about you, Parker? I bet you were up late last night studying too, huh?”

               “Up late last night,” you agreed. “I don’t know about studying though.”

               Ned’s eyes went wide and both you and Peter laughed, the bell ringing and all of you walking to your classes. As they day went by, you started to find your mind lingering back to your dad. As much of an asshole as he was sometimes, and as overbearing and overprotective as he could get, you really did love him and care about him. Others would probably call you lame, but you really did see Tony as one of your best friends. He helped you build amazing inventions, supported you in all your academic endeavors, and did his best to look out for you. Whenever he was gone on missions for longer than a week, you always started to get worried as far as whether or not he would come back.

               Peter could sense your anxiety, trying to lighten your mood with jokes or place a hand on your shoulder as a sign of affection. Afterschool he approached you, clutching onto the straps of his backpack, seeming nervous. “I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough day. I was thinking we could take your mind off of things and you could spend the night at my place tonight?” he offered.

               “Really?” your eyes lit up, thinking how you would love more than anything to get out and do something tonight. Nothing was worse than staying at home and wallowing in your feelings.

“Yeah,” he gave a soft smile, thinking about how adorable you looked when you got excited. “Aunt May is working night shift so maybe, if it’s cool with you, we can grab a pizza, play some video games, and then watch a movie?”

               “Of course,” he insisted. “And we can stop somewhere on the way home to grab some snacks too.”

               “I’ll give Pepper a call and ask if I can stay over tonight, I’ll probably just say I’m with Gwen or something,” you grinned. “She’ll say yes, she usually lets me have free rein whenever Tony’s out of town.”

               “Awesome,” Peter beamed.

               Sure enough, you found the two of you hours later on the floor of his bedroom, eyes fixated on a television screen, playing Mario Kart and chowing down on some pepperoni pizza and cherry slushies. It was practically a ritual for you to hang out with Peter on weekends. As long as he didn’t have an academic decathlon the next morning, Aunt May let you stay as late as you wanted on Fridays. Saturdays you spent fooling around in the lab working on suit modifications, recalibrating certain machinery, or working on new projects. Sundays were official lazy days, both of you usually sleeping in and meeting up midday to cuddle on the couch and watch a movie, usually wrapping up with finishing your weekend homework over facetime. However, on the weekends in which Tony or May were out of the house, the two of you liked to have sleepovers. Usually at Peter’s for the sake of having to navigate FRIDAY’s complicated algorithms.

               It wasn’t like anything particularly steamy happened between the two of you. You had been only dating for a handful of months now, and you were both in high school. Sure, you and Peter liked to cuddle a lot, and hold hands, and play with each other’s hair, but that was simply just affection. And of course, you loved kissing each other, especially when nobody else was around to make fun of you or scold you. Sometimes you found yourself getting into make out sessions, pressed up against each other and finding it hard to catch your breath, hearts racing and desperately clinging onto each other.

Occasionally it would heat up a little bit more than that, some grinding and groping and moaning, and a handful of times Peter’s taken his shirt off, but that was about it. You hadn’t even really reached second base with him yet. And you weren’t complaining, you were glad you were taking things slow. But at this point, you were ready. It just felt like it was time. But you knew this was Peter’s first serious relationship, and you didn’t want to put any pressure on him or rush him into things, so you were complacent with playing Mario Kart and eating pizza in the meantime.

               “I am sooo going to kick your ass,” you warned Peter, pressing down hard on your Wii remote and hitting him with a red shell as your character zoomed past him on the race track, and he simply just laughed.

               “Yeah? Wait till I break out Rainbow Road,” he insisted.

               “Are you actually Satan or do you just hate me?” you narrowed your eyes. “There is no way I’m playing that shit, I think I’d rather forfeit.”

               “It’s all about strategy and focus,” he argued, knocking Luigi out from second place, tailing right behind you, eyes glued to the screen.

               “Strategy? You sound like Ned,” you snorted, drifting a curve and heading towards a shortcut. “That racetrack is nothing but a holographic highway of death.”

               “If we had it your way, we would be playing Moo Moo Meadows on an endless loop,” Peter teased and you gasped playfully.

               “What? It has fun music and I like looking at the cows,” you whined and he laughed, passing you at the last minute and scoring first place, making your jaw drop. “What the hell? How?”

               “What can I say? You’re dating a winner, baby,” he grinned and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head and taking another bite of your pizza.

               “I’m dating a jackass,” you joked. “You can’t let me win just once? Come on, be nice.”

               “I used to do that, and you made fun of me for it,” he pointed out. “Remember the first week we started dating?”

               “You literally used to go in reverse until I caught up with you,” you replied flatly. “It was ridiculous, Peter. It’s not like you made it subtle that I happened to suck at the game or anything.”

               “I just didn’t want you to feel bad,” he reassured, and you chuckled, taking a sip of your slurpee and sighing, leaning your head on his shoulder.

               “So another round or are we going to move onto Smash Bros?” you raised an eyebrow.

               “Up to you,” he shrugged, taking a bite of his pizza as well.

               “How about we play another round of Mario Kart,” you suggested. “But whoever wins gets a prize.”

               “Like what?” he crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the mischievous grin on your face, doubtful.

               “I don’t know, a hoodie or something,” you perused innocently and he let out a breathy laugh.

               “You’ve already stolen all of mine, so I’m not sure I’d have another one to give you quite honestly,” he admitted and you smiled, mind wandering elsewhere.

               “What about…” you pouted your lips, trying to think up something good. “What about if I win, I get to do anything I want to you? And if you win, you get to do anything you want to me. All within reasonable boundaries of course.”

               “Woah,” Peter’s eyes widened. “Is this the part when you tell me you actually work for Hydra and you gut me like a fish or something?”

               “Pshh no that’s ridiculous,” you shook your head.

               “What do you mean ‘do whatever you want to me?’ Huh?” he inquired, mischievously raising an eyebrow. “This seems oddly torture-like.”

               “It’s not going to be torturing,” you stared at him, unamused. “I could never hurt you.”

               “Then what could you possibly want to do to me?” he sighed, looking at you, entertained with your shenanigans, taking a sip of his cherry slushie.

               “I dunno,” you shrugged, stirring your straw in your cup a couple times before casually telling him your suggestion. “Suck your dick I guess.”

               He instantly spat out his slurpee, eyes widening, shocked. “E-excuse me, what?”

               “I said if I win, I’d probably suck your dick I guess,” you shrugged again and he blinked at you, entire face flushed red, stuttering and stunned all at the same time. Your lips curled up in a small smile, thinking of how much you loved to see him like this, a literal blushing virgin. He was adorable, really.

               “Well gosh, I uh…” he looked down at the red icee he had spat all over his t-shirt and then up at you, still at a loss for words. “You don’t really have to beat me at Mario Kart to get my permission to do that, you know.”

               “Yeah, but this way makes it a lot more fun, yes?” you smirked and he swallowed awkwardly, absolutely frazzled.

               “S-sure, I guess you’re right there,” he nodded slowly, still staring blankly at the slushie stains. “How do you know I’m not going to just let you win?”

               “Because…” you drew out, looking at him, still smirking. “If you win, then you get to do whatever you want to me.”

               He paused, turning towards you, breath hitching. “Anything?”

               “Well again, no torture or killing or whatever but-” you clarified and he laughed, rolling his eyes.

               “Yeah, of course, but uh…” he got lost staring at you again and you couldn’t help but wonder what he could possibly be thinking of. “Shit, I’m in.”

               “Really?” you bit down on your lower lip, almost too excited for this bet.

               “Definitely,” he nodded, feeling a bit more confident. “Just give me a second.” He slipped off his t-shirt and you watched intently, noting how built and lean he was. There were certain perks to dating Spider-Man, and it was moments when your boyfriend was sitting in front of you shirtless like this that you were ever most grateful for them.

               “Well shit, Parker,” you laughed to yourself and he stared at you, confused.

               “What? My shirt had slushie all over it,” he insisted and you looked at him, narrowing your eyes.

               “Uh huh…”

               “No for real!”

               “Totally not trying to tease me or anything over here.”

               “Oh whatever! Just start the game.”

               “Give me a second,” you insisted, reaching down and deciding to take it one step further, slipping off your own sweatshirt and revealing your bra underneath, looking at him, anticipating his reaction. Seeing him like this, you wanted to take a picture and capture it forever. He looked breathless, staring at you, his eyes dark and fixated, his lips parted, mesmerized. You couldn’t help but smile. “See something you like, Spidey?”

               “Yeah,” his eyes flickered up to yours, still blushing. “You.”

               Grinning, you leaned over to kiss him, then pulled away, picking up your Wii remote and selecting your favorite racetrack. “Good luck,” you winked.

“Good luck yourself,” he laughed. “Seeing as the only time you ever beat me in Mario Kart is when my controller dies, I think you’re the one who’s going to need it.”

“Fine, to hell with luck,” you rolled your eyes as the countdown started. “Maximum effort.”

               Both of you pressed down hard, zooming through the track, eyes fixated on the screen, cursing and screaming and hooting and hollering as you gained power ups and got knocked off the road by each other. By far, the most intense game of Mario Kart you’ve ever played in your life. Each round you seemed to egg each other on more and more, and although you clearly knew how this was going to end, you couldn’t help but at least try your very best. First place trophy spinning on the screen, Peter’s tongue ran over his lower lip, glancing over at you as nervousness flowered in your chest. What did he have in mind?

               “I don’t think either of us saw that coming,” he stated sarcastically and you looked at him incredulously.

               “Alright then Peter Parker,” you hummed lightheartedly, shutting off the television and setting your controller down, sighing as you leaned back and rest your weight upon your backwards palms. “What do you have planned for me?”

               “Well…” he looked at you shyly, almost hesitant, and you began to grow even more curious. “I know you said ‘anything I wanted’ or whatever, but I want to make this enjoyable for you too, and that sure you’re okay with everything I’m doing.”

               “By all means, don’t stop for me,” you insisted, small smile tugging on the edge of your lips. “If you say or do anything I don’t like, I’ll speak up. Don’t worry.” He hummed softly in acknowledgment, nodding as he looked towards the floor, still nervous, then cleared his throat.

               “I think seeing as your intentions were to seduce me, I guess I have no choice but to go along with the theme,” he rolled his eyes playfully, slowly gaining confidence and crawling closer to you, making your heart beat twice as fast. He kissed you on the lips, soft and sweet and slow, and then pulled away, lowering his face so that his mouth was barely brushing up against your ear, his voice lowering to a whisper. The entire mood of the room shifted, into something more serious. “So, I think you should lay on the bed for me.”

               “Whatever you say,” you smiled sweetly, trying to hide your nervousness and doing as told, getting up and making your way to his bed, laying down on your back, watching as he stood at the end, looking you up and down, licking his lips. You could tell something inside of him changed. He didn’t seem so timid anymore, afraid to suggest something or speak up. His shoulders rolled back, his feet planted solid in the ground, his entire stance exuding confidence. It was different, dominant and alluring, and you couldn’t help but be captivated by it. He was entrancing like this, dark eyes gazing over your body, shirtless, hands dipping down into the waistband of his jeans, brows furrowed, pondering what to do with you.

               “Hands up. Against the bedframe,” he ordered, and you looked at him, trying to analyze what he had in mind as you tentatively did as instructed, positioning your arms above you, against the wooden frame. In what seemed like an instant, he suddenly flicked his wrists outward, webs springing from his fingers and you gasped as the sticky substance pinned your hands above you, a mess of webs fixating them to the wooden plank. You eyes widened and then narrowed.

               “Didn’t know Spidey was into bondage,” you bit down on your lower lip, aroused by his dominance and playfulness all the same.

               “Didn’t know you could be so naughty,” he quipped back and you blushed, trying to look away, shy.

               “Nuh uh, none of that,” he argued with a chuckle, crawling on top of you and raising your face to look at him with one of his hands, making your eyes meet. “If I do recall correctly, you were offering to suck me off a moment earlier. Seemed pretty eager too.”

               “Still am if that’s what you fancy, Peter,” you suggested, eyes twinkling with a glint of naughtiness, but he just shook his head, smiling.

               “I think I have other plans for you tonight,” he insisted, kissing you again this time, but rougher, his tongue sliding in between your lips and up against your own, then retreating to have his teeth catch your lower lip, dragging it between them before he pulled away, devilish smirk on his face.

               “Mind filling me in on the agenda?” you asked with a breathy voice, fluttering your eyelids and parting your lips, bucking your hips up to meet his.

               ��It involves your pants off, and my head between your legs, and you moaning my name,” his eyes flickered up to meet yours. “And then me fucking you into this bed until those moans turn into screams.”

               “Holy fuck,” you whispered, eyes glazed over, staring at him, practically speechless.

               “Sound good to you, sweetheart?” he hummed, fingers tracing over your stomach, playing with the hem of your waistband.

               “Shit…” you laughed to yourself quietly, eyes still fixated on him, feeling unbelievably flustered. “I think I ought to up the ante on Mario Kart wins a whole lot more from now on.”

[thepatricktreestump]

Do you still write imagines with bands like FOB, P!ATD and MCR? Maybe?

i do! it just depends on the ask, right now i’m really obsessed with peter parker (mcu), rio (good girls), and joe goldberg (you) so they are who i would be more inclined towards writing about but i wouldn’t be opposed to having a little throwback and writing for brendon urie, patrick stump, or gerard way

[thepatricktreestump]

Bro I literally always forget your pronouns and I'm never gonna ask on public cause I feel dumb😔

no don’t feel dumb you’re okay!!! i’m genderfluid so i use both he/him and she/her so you can refer to me as either, lovely! thank you for asking tho xx

[thepatricktreestump]

Just a reminder that I love you😍😘😘💖

i love you!!! i cannot express to you how much you mean to me, you are one of my most loyal readers, you’re constantly in my notifications, your comments always make me laugh and smile, and you have been here for such a long time now, it always makes me so happy to see you :)

[thepatricktreestump]

came by to remind you that i love you and i miss you a lot💕💔

aweeee zimeah i love you so very much and am so glad you are in my life, i miss you bunches, hope you have an amazing day today xoxo

[thepatricktreestump]

Hey, sorry to be a bother but do you know the author who wrote the Josh x Tyler x Reader smut that was like, truth or dare when they got super drunk in the beginning and was really smutty? Sorry I've been trying to find them for a long ass time and if I don't ask now I'm gonna forget hahaha 💕

god i knew this day would come... so way back like maybe three years ago our fandom used to be totally different. a handful of you, as yourself, probably remember there being a different group of core writers. there was Lex, Laura, Kaylee, Shirley, Tay, with usernames like joshdunfics and the blurryface rp account, and it included me too- we wrote mainly for twenty one pilots and panic! at the disco- but there was a time where they entire fandom was just being really mean and rude and sending us all death threats, hacking our accounts, and trying to get us shut down so literally almost all of us deleted our accounts, Kaylee was the first to go harlequinn something was her name at the time, then Lex and Laura (who were the ones who wrote that fic you’re talking about) as well as they wrote the josh x tyler x reader dating site one if you remember that, then Tay who was my favorite- she wrote the Run and Go fic (bank robbery, blueberry muffins, ann arbor michigan,broken stained glass) as well as a lot of other really popular ones... I left for a really long time after Black and Red but I didn’t delete my blog completely, making me the only one out of the eight of us to survive that time. It was really strange and I don’t forget it at all, but it also makes me very heartbroken because all of those fanfics are now lost, and I won’t ever be able to read them again...

[thepatricktreestump]

Omg that’s so great for you! Things with me are good! I’m moving to Kentucky in August for college to double major in psychology and sociology and minor in health and human services to go on into clinical psychology! I’m super excited about it all except that I’m leaving all my friends back home:/ also bummed cause corona ruined the last half of my senior year. But I’m staying positive about it!

holy shit i’m so very proud of you! that’s amazing, you’re going to do great things! and aw i definitely feel that, i miss my hometown and my friends so much, all the good memories i had there. and god i can’t imagine, i am so glad i’m not in school right now. sending lots of love and good vibes!!! take names and kick ass out there