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luveline · 6 months

Note

hiiii jade!!!! could i please request something with peter with reader who’s maybe put on some weight recently and is insecure about it?? (totally not self indulgent at all) i totally get it if you’re not comfortable writing that stuff though so no pressure

hi lovely! ty for requesting. fem, 1k

cw for negative weight talk/ weight gain

Everybody gains weight during the holidays, you think, tracing your figure in the mirror. Though it's not strictly holiday season yet, it's edging toward the end of the year. Maybe my new year's resolution should be losing a few pounds.

There's a thunk of the bedroom window being yanked open and footsteps across the floor. You tense until your hear Peter panting for breath, likely having swung to you at high speed, or fresh from a fight with an usurped criminal.

You rush back into your t-shirt, knowing exactly what path he'll walk. He barrels into the bathroom, sees you at the mirror and smiles so wide his cheeks look fit to burst. "Hey," he says, peeling the suit off and exposing his boxers to you without shame, "hey hey hey. Can I persuade you in with me?" He nods toward the shower.

"Not this time, Pete."

"Too bad," he laments.

You look away as he strips out of his underwear. The shower turns on and he takes you by the hips to move you out of his way with a murmured apology, near lost to the drum of the spray. Peter has moments where he doesn't know his own strength, but the majority of the time he treats you like you're something precious.

"Stay in here!" he demands as he pulls the curtain shut.

"I'm not going anywhere." You close the toilet and sit on the lid. "Tough day protecting the people?"

"Apart from tripping into a deceptively large pothole, it was fine. Why won't you come in here with me? I wanna rub your shoulders."

"You want me to wash your hair."

"Exactly. So get naked and get in here. Don't make me beg."

You really don't want to, and you're not going to, but it's not a big problem. Peter doesn't truly mind, he just loves you. "What do you mean, deceptively big? Like, knee height? Higher?"

"Mid thigh, I'd say. The people of New York are never gonna let me live it down. One guy was recording me and said he was gonna put it on YouTube for the ad money."

"Anything else?"

He gives you the rundown, describing what perps he faced and an older man he helped use an ATM machine. You hum distractedly, pinching at the fat where it spreads on your thigh, sitting down as you are.

He sticks his face through the curtain gap, hair slicked to his cheeks. "What're you doing?"

"You told me to stay, so I'm staying."

He's nervous for a split second, glancing back into the shower as though there's an answer there waiting for him before angling himself toward you fully, his naked chest dripping and shining in the bathroom light. "Okay, fine, we need to talk about something. But I want you to know that you forced my hand here. Okay?"

"Okay." You nibble the inside of your lip, used to his theatrics. "What have I done?"

"It's not something you've done. It's something you are. I can't even say it. I," —he pulls the curtain in front of his face, moves it aside again– "just need to tell you. Lately it's like you don't even realise how beautiful you are and I'm tired of it. You're radiant. Like, glowing."

Your recent internal debate must show on your face, that doubt, because he gives you a steadying smile. "Really, really beautiful," he says more seriously.

It's easy to smile at him. "Thank you, Pete." You scoop his suit off of the floor. "I'll go scrub the tetanus out of this in the kitchen sink."

"Wait–"

He can't just get out with suds in his hair, giving you the perfect escape plan. You have ten minutes to yourself filling the sink with soapy water and steeping the fabric before he's out of the bedroom in pyjamas, trousers tucked into his socks and hair damp from ferocious towel scrubbing. "You're such a– such a– thing," he decides. "I'm telling you you're beautiful and you walk off so you don't have to hear it? What's wrong with you?" His voice slips into a kinder register. "You do know you're pretty, right? I'm not just saying it to say it."

"I'm just feeling icky," you confide.

"About what?"

You want to tell him, you find. "You know how I've gained weight?"

He doesn't need any more explanation. Peter knows you've gained weight, you've mentioned it to him, and it's visual, and he can likely tell whenever he decides to flex his strength. "What, and you think that makes you less pretty?" He puts a damp hand behind your neck to bring you forward. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, a little."

He kisses you. His nose bumps your nose, his lips crushed to your as he holds you in place. Despite this, it isn't an overly rough connection. It's definitely not shy. "You're beautiful," he says in the space between your lips.

"It doesn't suit me–"

"It does. It really fucking suits you. Have you seen yourself? You couldn't look better."

"Even when I was thinner?"

"You look just as perfect then as you did now." His intensity fades and he encourages you back enough to see your face, his thumb rubbing a short line into your neck. His brows are furrowed, dark eyes darker for it. "Weight isn't a factor."

"No, but you have to say that."

"I don't. Not really. I'm sure there are a thousand shitty guys who'd tell you something different, but I'm not– I love you, the whole you. I like you like this." He grins. "Which should be obvious."

You tsk at him, to his delight, his laughter boyish as he buries his face in your neck with a hug, kissing a messy circle up and into the soft line of your jaw. You trap him there without thinking, chin hooked down, squirming as he blows hot air into your skin.

"I've been putting it on too," he says. "It's happy weight."

"It's not happy weight for you, Pete, it's just more muscle."

"It makes you happy, doesn't it?" he jokes, smiling and kissing and hugging you all at once. "Just like it does on you for me."

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keerysfreckles · 4 months

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kinda really into a bestfriends w/ no boundaries with tasm!peter 👀

andrew’s just seems the touchiest haha <33

touchy feely fool – peter parker (tasm)

pairing: tasm!peter x bff gn!reader

warnings: use of y/n, no specific pronouns mentioned, PETER FLUFF!!!!!!!!

a/n: IM BACK POOKIES RAAHHH

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

"peter!"

"y/n!"

you laugh, "why are you being so touchy today? i have to study for kaminksy's test."

"you're the smartest student in our grade. everyone knows you'll pass," peter responds, not daring to move his arms from hanging loosely around your neck.

"plus, you promised we'd have our movie night tonight, since someone bailed last weekend," he added.

"not really my fault i got sick pete," you answer, gaining a small chuckle out of the boy.

peter rests his chin on top of your head, watching as you continue writing flashcards for biology.

"are you almost done?" peter whines.

you giggle at his impatience, "i have four more cards peter. think you can wait that long?"

peter lets out a grumble for an answer, before flopping backwards onto your bed.

twelve minutes pass and just as promised, you stand from your desk chair to face peter. the boy instantly lights up, "are you done?"

you nod, "yes pete, now what movie do you want-"

before you can even get your question out, you feel your body being lifted off the ground. you can't help but laugh as you realize peter's holding you by your waist and running down your hallway towards your living room.

"peter!" your laughter continues, until he places you on the couch. "was that really necessary?" you move any hair that got in your face from the moment prior.

"yes, it was absolutely necessary," peter simply answers, before kneeling down and looking through the dvds beside the tv stand.

"you're an idiot parker," you can't help but smile.

peter smiles, "your favorite idiot."

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flightlessangelwings · 6 months

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Ktober 2023 Day 25- Mirror Sex

Tasm!Peter Parker x gn!reader

Word count- 1.1k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), softness, voyeurism, lot of praise, aftercare, established relationship, no use of y/n

Notes- Oh this was was so fun to write!! And it's another personal favorite of the month as well so I hope y'all like it too!! And I purposefully made it a gn reader too! Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Peter’s voice echoed in your ear.

You sat in front of him, your legs parted as he knelt behind you, fucking into you slowly. Peter’s strong grip kept you upright, and you leaned back to feel the warmth and safety of his embrace. As your mouth dropped open from how good he felt rocking into you from this angle, your eyes fluttered shut and you lost yourself in the pleasure that was Peter’s touch.

A soft whimper escaped your lips as you reluctantly blinked your eyes open, but you gasped when you focused and noticed what he wanted you to see. You weren’t sure when he set it up, but a full length mirror sat at the end of the bed, and it framed where the two of you were perfectly. Even in the low light of the room, you saw both your figures clearly.

“That’s it,” he cooed as he thrust into you once, “Look at how beautiful you are.”

You moaned loudly and closed your eyes once more.

“Uh-uh,” Peter gently grabbed your chin and forced you to keep your line of sight on the mirror, “I want you to watch.”

“Peter…” you whined as you blinked your eyes open again. It didn’t go unnoticed that he didn’t move again until you did.

“See?” his tone was low as he kissed the side of your face, “Look how beautiful you are.”

You gasped when he thrust into you once, but harder this time. Your body almost jolted forward if it weren’t for Peter’s strong grip keeping you in place. As much as you wanted to close your eyes and enjoy the feeling of his cock inside you, you knew he would stop if you did. So, you kept them open and trained on his face as he watched you in the mirror.

“That’s it sweetheart,” Peter murmured as he rocked into you at a slow and steady pace.

Skin slapped against skin as both of you locked eyes in the mirror. From that though, you saw the fire that burned within his eyes with every thrust of his hips, and you felt the low mumble from deep in his chest against your back. You saw how his hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat and it only made him more beautiful to you. And then your eyes trailed down both your figures.

Between your legs, you could make out the distinct shape of his cock whenever he pulled out from you. And then it disappeared inside you when he thrust forward again, burying it deep inside you. The added visual made you moan louder as you clung to Peter’s arms.

He gritted his teeth as he felt you clench around him, and then Peter’s eyes followed yours. He watched for a few moments as his cock appeared and then disappeared with his thrusts. Then, he made a low, deep sound you had never heard from him ever before. And it sent a pulse of need right to your core.

“Fuck,” Peter breathed, “Look at us,” he thrust once more, “Look how you fit me so perfectly,” he thrust again, filling you to the brim.

“Yes,” you murmured as your eyes glazed over, “Peter.”

“Look how beautiful you look like this,” he caressed your chin where he still held you while his other arm stayed around your body to pin you against him, “Look how well you take my cock.”

“Oh fuck,” you moaned as a chill ran up your spine from Peter’s words.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he cooed.

You dug your nails into his skin, “Peter… Yes…” you moaned, “So good, Pete… I…”

“What is it?” he trailed a line of hot, sweet kisses along your skin, “Tell me,” he said as he met your gaze in the mirror.

“You feel so good,” you whimpered, “And I love watching you fuck me like this.”

“That’s it,” he turned your chin to kiss your lips for a moment, pausing with his cock fully inside you to taste you before he turned you back to the mirror, “I want you to see what I see when I fuck you,” his tone dropped impossibly low, “I want you to fall apart and watch yourself in the mirror.”

“Oh shit,” you cried out as he suddenly picking up his pace, pounding into you with fervor, “Fuck! Peter! Yes!”

“That’s it,” he purred again as he grunted, holding back his own climax.

The look on Peter’s face when his jaw clenched made you let out the most obscene sound and you felt your body heat up and your skin tingle, “Fuck, Peter… You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Cum, sweetheart,” he groaned, “Cum for me.”

“Peter!” you screamed his name as you fought to keep your eyes open as your climax hit. You trembled in his grasp as you came hard, your mouth dropping open to let out all the sounds that Peter loved to hear.

“Beautiful,” he murmured as he watched your every expression in the mirror. He saved off his own orgasm for as long as he could, but from the way you looked so delectable in the mirror, he didn’t last long.

With a low groan of his own and your name on his lips, Peter came just as hard, His movements stuttered as he lost control as came deep inside you, filling you up. He too had to fight to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss a second of the show the two of you put on for yourselves. Peter savored the gasp you let out as he filled you to the brim, and both of you exhaled sharply when you watched it drip down your legs.

A shiver ran up your spine as you felt both your releases slide down your skin, but you couldn’t move. You didn’t want to anyway, content in Peter’s strong grip. For a moment, neither of you could budge, both too entranced in the other’s eyes in the mirror. You still stayed connected together, and at the same time, your eyes both fell to that connection.

“That was so hot,” you breathed in awe.

Peter grinned widely and kissed your neck, “I told you to trust me,” he murmured in your ear, his eyes ever leaving yours.

“I do trust you, Pete,” you whispered as you broke the connection to turn and kiss him deeply, tasting him once more, “And I love you.”

He smiled against you, “I love you too, sweetheart,” he kissed the tip of your nose before he pulled away, “Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart.”

“You always take such good care of me, Peter,” you sighed contently before you let out a gasp as he slowly and carefully pulled out of you,

Peter shot you and apologetic look in the mirror before he gathered you in his arms again, collapsing both of you down onto the bed, “I always will, sweetheart,” he whispered, “I always will.”

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periprose · 9 months

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Okay I gotta request something JUST HEAR ME OUT

Black Cat!Reader trying to tell Tasm!Peter she's Black Cat while he tries to tell her that he's Spider-Man at the same time. Queue up Peter being baffled, while reader just doesn't believe him lol

Also I am loving Florence, it's so good and rich, I'm still only on chapter three but I want to kiss your Peter senseless- he's such a sweetheart🫶 Also I love youuu🥰

AHHH bby i love this idea and I love you!! (also thanks for the support on florence)

Secrets are difficult to reveal.

They're especially terrible when you're telling something so tumultuous to your best friend, something that could either make him judge you severely or run away from you.

How do you confess that you're a thief? An villain turned anti-hero?

Even worse, Peter is someone you really love. Someone you know is too good for you- he would never feel the same way. But that's why you have Spider-Man, right?

You always knew it wasn't always going to be fun and games to be Black Cat. To be the very symbol of bad luck- it's a bad premonition.

You stare in the mirror. Peter will be here any second- he always climbs up the fire escape into your apartment's bedroom, and you told him you had something important to say.

There's a knock at your window, and you turn a little too abruptly.

Peter watches from the outside. He has a tentative smile, but he can see that you're worried, and you make the conscious effort to relax your face.

Peter himself is worried. He's about to confess something very important to someone very near and dear to him- he's Spider-Man, and not just that- he's having a sort-of affair with Black Cat.

He doesn't even know how it happened. First she was stealing wealth from banks, then a few months later she came with him with the notion to be good, and Peter always believes in someone redeeming themselves... but that doesn't mean she had to be so goddamn hot, all black leather and white fur, and Peter's just a horny dude who could not help but kiss back when she made a move on him yesterday.

And it was hot, it was good for him to take out some very human emotions by making out with her, but it wasn't everything. It wasn't you, and now he feels incredibly guilty. So he wants to come clean. Peter wants to let you know the whole truth, and even if that means you'll never like him again- Peter will never act on his unspoken feelings for you- he knows you deserve to know.

"Hey." You let Peter in, and he immediately walks in with an air of anxiety, hands already shaking as he paces around. "You good?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah." Peter shakes his head immediately. "No, not really. We need to talk."

"Oh." You give him a look as you sit on your bed. "You have something to say, too?"

Peter nods, and you think it can't be nearly as bad as what you're going to tell him.

"Okay. Let me go first- I've been hiding something from you." He starts, but you shake your head. "I haven't been around."

"I haven't been around, Peter." You tilt your head at him. "I... I haven't been telling you the truth."

"Just wait. I'm trying to tell you something important." Peter insists, wanting you to know the truth but you keep going.

"I'm a bad person, Peter." You murmur, and Peter stops, interest piqued. "I've been misusing our friendship- you wouldn't want to be friends if you knew my past."

"No. That's not true." Peter sits down next to you on your bed, feeling that he should comfort you before potentially breaking your heart. "I'll always be your friend. Tell me what's going on."

"Don't sound so sure." You grimace at him. "I... I'm Black Cat."

"Huh?"

"I know, it's so terrible. I stopped with all the stealing and killing, but... I'm still not sure if my so-called good deeds are enough to forgive me." You lean over your legs. "I don't... I work with Spider-Man every now and then, too."

"But-" Peter tries to interject, and you keep going anyways. He's incredibly baffled- it's not that you don't match the size of Black Cat, it's just that he's sure he would've recognized your mouth under her mask. He's fantasized about your lips long enough.

"He kissed me yesterday." You admit, and for some reason it feels like a slap in the face to say, even if you know that Peter doesn't actually like you like that. "And I've always liked you, Peter, so I just have to get this off my chest, because I feel so terrible. I'm sorry."

Peter is snickering.

"What?" You shove him. "I'm trying to tell you about my actual, serious pain, Peter, and you're just laughing-"

He loves this. He can actually be with you, no questions asked, and you have to be Black Cat- who else would know that Spider-Man kissed you? Peter feels a little bad that you're clearly agonized about it still, and he is laughing, but he can't help it.

"I was trying to tell you the same thing." Peter shrugs, as you hang onto his every word. "Okay, not the same thing. But that I'm Spider-Man."

You raise your eyebrows. "Really?"

"What do you mean, really? What's so shocking?" Peter asks, somewhat affronted, still finding it funny. "Do I not look like I have Spider-Man's build?"

"No, no. It just... feels a little too convenient." You give him a pitiful glance. "Maybe you could prove it?"

"Wow." Peter shakes his head, stifling a small smile. "Why would I lie?"

"No, Peter, it's not that you would lie. It's just... it's too obvious of a happy ending for me, and I-" You wince. "I don't normally have those."

"Oh." Peter knows about your past, your unhappy origin story, and he doesn't want to say anything to negate that truth.

So he simply thwips out a web towards your desk, planting your water bottle against the wall, and you don't look too surprised, although you do inhale.

"So that means- I was working with- and you-" You try to make a coherent sentence. "We... we kissed?"

"Tell me if this feels the same." Peter murmurs, half jokingly, mostly serious, and he pulls your face up in the same way you remember he did yesterday.

Knowing that you were the one in that leather black suit with the white trimming stirs something more inside him- yeah, he loves you and he's so glad to have you here now- but it makes yesterday even hotter in hindsight.

No mask this time. Nothing to get in the way of you dragging your fingers through Peter's hair as he presses his lips against yours, not hesitant at all. His lips are firm, plying against yours, and he inhales in a way that screams that he's wanted to do this for a while- even if he kissed you a few days ago, it wasn't like this- and it has you understanding he doesn't want to be gentle. He wants to finish what he started.

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sincericida · 10 months

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Hey do you have any reblog drafts or saved links i can use on the wayback machine to find the "Velvet Haze" fic? I'm trying to find it since the author deactivated. plzzzzz helppp

Hello dear! I tossed and turned around and reviewed all the fanfic reblog tags, and found almost every chapter of this amazing fanfic called "Velvet Haze". I couldn’t find chapter 2, I'm so sorry. The others are here:

Chapter 1: Green Green Dress

Chapter 3: Sweet Disposition

Chapter 4: A Sufficiently Clear Admission

Chapter 5: Tortured By The Expectation Of Pleasure

Chapter 6: Pure Honey

Chapter 7: Definitely Absolutely Certainly

I hope I helped you in some way. ✌🏼

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siriuslysmoking · 5 months

Text

Movie Marathon with Peter Parker

A/N: Day 3!! My love for Christmas movies is showing in this.

"Haaawt!" Peter pants out.

"Is it hot?" You smirk as you take a drink of your own hot chocolate.

"Nope," He huffs, "Freezing cold."

You smile as he sits down next to you. "What first?"

"Start with The Grinch, then Elf, then the Santa Clauses, ending with Home Alone." You smile at him.

"Sounds good." He laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. "Good thing you took off tomorrow."

"Good thing." You lean against his chest, balancing mug against your stomach.

One movie through, you still sat up in attention and Peter dozed off slightly to your right. "SANTA!!!"

"Ah!" Peter wakes with a fright. "Jeez."

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and mutters something about popcorn while walking around the couch, to the kitchen. "Be quick!"

He hums in agreement, tossing the popcorn bag in the microwave behind you.

When he sits back down you cuddle back into him, pulling the blanket over your shoulders, and put your feet on the coffee table next to your discard hot cocoa mug. "Thank you."

"You enjoy this, so I enjoy this." He smiles, kissing the top of you head.

"You smell like beef and cheese." You softly whisper to him.

"You're lucky I love you."

"So lucky."

Taglist: @bunnyweasley23 @arinexeisnotworking

#peter parker fanfic #peter parker is the love of my life #andrew garfield peter parker #peter parker #peter parker fic #tasm peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #tasm peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #spiderman #FICMAS

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mareagirls · 1 year

Note

Hi! If you’re ever in the mood to write a sickfic I like this idea.

Peter and reader are on a date, but reader feels nauseous. But, reader doesn’t want to tell Peter because a: they’ve both been super busy lately between Spider-Man duties and college and/or work and b: because even if reader won’t admit it, being vulnerable and being taken care of kind of scares them. But Peter finds out/figured it out and wants to help and fluff ensues.

Anyway, it’s just an idea. No pressure to complete (obvi)! Hope you’re doing well and drinking water! <3

~🥧

hey pie anon! i hope this is okay and i'm sorry it's months late! I forgot it was in my drafts :')

You realise something is wrong when you’re only a quarter of the way through your pizza and Peter is over half way through his.

You feel sick. Or at the very least least like you might be - nausea brewing uncomfortably in your stomach as you take small bites of your food.

Your boyfriend chats away opposite you, blissfully unaware that you've started to feel queasy, so you plaster a smile on your face and swallow hard. The two of you have been incredibly busy for the past few days between your work and his vigilante duties, and the last thing you want to do is ruin the first peaceful moment you’ve had together. You can tell how much Peter has needed a little normalcy. The thought of ruining it because you’re feeling a little off feels incredibly selfish.

Beyond that, you're not used to letting people take care of you, and though Peter has told you countless times that he likes doing it, you can never quite dislodge uncomfortable feeling of vulnerability that blooms in you whenever he does. Letting yourself be loved, allowing Peter to look after you when you're not feeling too well - they're processes. You've been trying to work on them for a while, but it's difficult. It always has been.

You’re just trying to rub at your chest discreetly when Peter looks up at you from his almost empty plate.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes! Yeah, everything is fine." Your reply comes out wobbly and you only realise afterwards that you’ve made too much of an effort to sound alright. You smile at Peter through gritted teeth and try foolishly to convince yourself that if you pretend the nausea doesn't exist, it'll go.

Peter doesn’t look like he believes you for a second.

"Are you sure? Do you not like your pizza?" He pushes his own plate towards you as if it's the easiest thing ever, offering you his last two slices. "Here, baby. We can swap."

The tender easiness in the gesture very nearly makes you want to cry. Peter Parker might just be the loveliest boy you’ve ever known.

"No, Peter it's okay. My pizza is good,” your hands shifts slightly to rub against your abdomen, Peter tracks your movements cautiously. “I'm just kinda full I think.”

Your boy raises an eyebrow at your barely eaten pizza but nods, never one to push you for explanations.

"I'll ask for the bill and a box to take the rest home. We can have the ice cream in the freezer when we get back. How's that sound?"

The thought of ice cream makes you feel queasy, but Peter seems so hopeful and he's looked so tired and sad in the past few days that you cant help but indulge him.

Once you’ve gotten the bill and packed your leftover pizza into a takeaway box, Peter takes your hand in his and guides you out of the restaurant.

New York City in the evening is a sensory nightmare, but your nausea does abate slightly thanks to the fresh air. You catch Peter looking down at you and stamp an awkward smile on your face.

"Home?" He squeezes your fingers gently.

Your stomach churns at the thought of having to go so far, but Peter is looking at you like you've hung the moon and the stars - the journey home feels a little more bearable with him by your side.

"Yes please."

"You okay to walk?"

"I'm fine, Peter. I promise."

"No, you're not, baby. And that's okay, you don't have to tell me what's wrong if you don’t want to. Just let me take care of you."

You sigh, resigned. You don't even know why you tried to hide it from him. Peter can quite literally hear your heartbeat, of course he was going to clock that you're not feeling too well.

Peter keeps his body angled towards yours as the two of you walk, and you soon realise that he's shielding you the best he can from the light around you and all the bodies rushing past. It's a small gesture, one that he might not even realise he's doing, but makes your chest flutter pleasantly

Then, just as you think that maybe the nausea is easing up, another wave of discomfort overwhelms you and you stumble.

Fortunately Peter catches your wrist just before you can do any real damage, balancing your pizza box in his free hand. He helps you back up easily, his fingers a warm pressure on your skin.

"Woah. Hey, hey, sweetheart. Let's just stop for a second, hm?"

You are mortified, and very sorry about how inconvenient you're being but when Peter pulls you to a stop, you oblige. Tears swarming in your eyes, you make one last ditch attempt at snuffing out the discomfort by pushing your face into the soft sweatshirt your boyfriend is wearing.

You feel him go still and for one horrible millisecond, you think he's going to push you away, but then Peter’s body relaxes and he presses you against him softly, almost as if he's afraid to hurt you.

You mumble into his chest. "I'm really sorry."

"It's okay, you don't have to apologise," his lips are soft against the crown of your head. "You're good. Let's take a moment, alright?"

You nod, sniffing slightly.

"We're nearly there. Just a few more blocks to go."

Something like a whine gets stuck in your throat and Peter coos gently, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head. “I know. You’re alright, honey. I've got you.”

You straighten up after a few seconds, aware that this is not at all what he signed up for when the two of you left the house, and Peter frowns a little.

"You can lean into me, baby. You're not a bother."

And you do know, because he's said it to you countless times before in different variations. I like being there for you. You don't have to apologise. I'm here for you, it's kinda in the boyfriend job description.

Peter doesn’t have to repeat himself. When he nudges you closer, you lean in.

Once you’re at home, Peter lets go of you carefully, never taking his eyes off you as he reaches into his jacket pocket and pull out the keys to let you both in.

He places the pizza box on the microwave in the kitchen before following you through down the corridor, a hand ghosting the small of your back. When you reach the bedroom, he dims the lights.

You sit on the bed gingerly. Peter sits next to you.

"How are you feeling?" Peter asks.

You’re quiet for a while. Then, a small admission;

"I feel really nauseous Peter." You avoid his gaze. "It started in the restaurant. I don't... I don't know what's wrong."

Peter is silent for a beat. You take it as a sign that you've said something wrong.

"It's fine though. I'm sorry for ruining the meal. I know you were looking forward to this." your voice is hoarse. "I’m really sorry."

When you muster the courage to look up at him, Peter looks horrified.

"Baby, what are you talking about? You didn't ruin anything. It's okay." His hand comes up to brush at your jawline. "I got to spend time with my best girl. I feel like the luckiest guy alive."

You think he might be exaggerating just to make you smile, but there's real sincerity in his tone. "Do you want pain relief? Some ginger tea, maybe?"

Right now, you only want Peter.

"Can we just cuddle for a bit, please?"

"Oh, my girl." Peter is already pulling you down so that you're lying against his chest. "C'mere."

#peter parker imagine #tasm peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #fic recs #mareagirls musings #tasm x reader #peter parker one shot #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm peter parker x you #my works! 💌#i cannot believe i have finished writing something 😭#it’s been MONTHS #i’m so rusty

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reidslovely · 9 months

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there were two things that came to mind the first being peter yelling at her and he’s never done that before so reader trying to avoids him for the rest of the day and when she does interact with him she’s silent or acting almost robotic

the second one that came to mind was them getting into a fight and her trying to quit

i see your second thought being super plausible honestly, but let’s combine them. peter is very particular about his schedule and follows it to a t for the most part. the fight started the first or second week she works for him. all over a missed appointment and she swears she wrote it down, but peter is upset because he doesn’t have time for this meeting. he’s got lab time, and a presentation today. he doesn’t have time to meet with this potential investor today.

“what do you mean you missed a appointment!” peter yelled. the slight raise in his voice shocked her as well as him. he cleared his throat and left his suit jacket on the back of his desk chair. “can you not operate the shared calendar i swear doll it’s like you’re completely helpless sometimes.”

that comment strikes a nerve, and it doesn’t help she’s already on the verge of tears from him yelling. peter’s never made her feel so small. in fact he’s only ever been encouraging. and supportive of her she wasn’t helpless, she was learning the ropes of this company still. and her boyfriend being who he was didn’t help, everyone else just assumed she batted her eyes and but her lip to the position.

“well i’m sorry pete.” she jokes dryly lightly trying not to show her hurt. “we can’t all be a super genius”

“yeah but i expected better from you.” all over a calendar

he walks away annoyed. she doesn’t know if it’s with her or the situation but the tone of his voice alone makes her sick to her stomach. she brings him his lunch quietly and doesn’t bother to eat with him like she usually does. she keeps their interaction short and firm.

“doll can you make a call for me?”

“sure.” she nodded not even looking at him as she takes the paper.

“doll.” his voice sung out later, “will you get these filed for me?” he kissed her temple hands on her shoulders squeezing. she shrugged him off nodding.

“right away mr. parker.”

he was thinking of a way to apologize. sending flowers to her desk probably wouldn’t do much and may insight a few scoffs from other employees. not wanting to embarrass her he settled on waiting till they were alone in the building to formally apologize.

but she comes into his office a few hours later before they leave to go home with her two weeks in shaky hand.

“doll..what’s this?” peter asked reading over the paper, hand reaching out for her shaking one pulling her closer to him.

“i don’t wanna work for you. i’m..i’m scared it’ll ruin our relationship.” she mumbled out tears threatening her eyes. peter’s heart swelled in his chest feeling lodged in his throat. “and i really like being your girlfriend and i love you and i don’t..i don’t want you to yell at me over a stupid google calendar.”

“oh doll..no. i was upset earlier i didn’t mean it. i wasn’t even upset at you it was just time stress.” he sat her on his knee. arm wrapping around her waist holding her in place to look at him. “i wasn’t mad or disappointed at all. i know i said something really hurtful and i’m very sorry. and i’m even more sorry for yelling at you.” she sniffled as he spoke, her hand resting on his chest flattening out some wrinkles. he whispered softly to her his free hand rubbing her side.

“i want you here. okay? but if you want to quit i understand and i won’t stop you but i’ll be sure to use my words more carefully and i will never raise my voice again. i am so sorry and i’m going to do better.”

the care in his voice made it easy to believe him, that and his big doe eyes staring into hers assuring her this was the truth.

“don’t ever yell at me again and i’ll stay.” she bargains. peter laughed bobbing his head.

“deal.”

“and i want a raise. for dealing with you here and at home” peter laughed this time throwing his head back.

“i’ll talk to human resources about the ethical standards about that.” he responds standing her up off his lap. as he packs up his office for the night.

“m.j.’s your human resources officer i think she’ll agree with me.” you hummed turning the light off as they left the room.

#bambi talks #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter imagine #tasm andrew garfield #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter smut #andrew garfield #bambi and friends #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm spiderman #tasm peter imagines #tasm peter parker smut #tasm peter parker x you #tasm peter parker x self insert #ceo!peter #ceo!peter parker

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mrshipsmcgee · 1 year

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How do you think Peter would propose? I'd feel like he'd go all out but would also be so nervous 🥺🥺🥺

Abby HEY! I love this… so so so much. And I love you so so so much ;)

Warning: mentions of booboos and stitches and love, ew!

- Peter Parker had bought a ring the day after your first date because he knew that there was no one else in the world that got him the way you did.

- He had told May about the ring after only two months into the two of you more than casually dating and May agreed on that fact that you two were seemingly made for one another. She had loved you from the very start. She knew it would be you that her Peter would spend the rest of his days with.

- Peter waited for a moment, a chance where he felt that the time was just beautiful enough - just magical enough to warrant a proposal to the person of his dreams. Even though he waited for the perfect moment, it didn’t come. Nothing felt right.. nothing felt quite good enough to ask you to marry him.

- And then one day the moment hit him.. not a by-the-book magical moment happened, but one moment filled to the brim with true love, full admiration.

- He sat bloodied in between your splayed legs as you stitch up his newest wounds. “Jesus, Pete,” you hiss, needle threading the twine between his split skin.

- he smirks, letting out a breathy chuckle as he watches you carefully tend to his wounds. “You take such good care of me,” he smiles as sweat drops down his forehead, his gut twisting into knots as he thinks of the ring in the drawer of his bedside table. He imagines how the rock would sparkle on your finger the next time you’d need to stitch him up.

- “Yeah,” you nod, “Maybe I take such good care of your dumbass because I love you - I dunno though.”

- He laughs - belly laughs, drawing your attention from the open wound to his honey eyes, “Well, I would have to say that I love you more.”

- You scoff, “No fucking way.”

- “Yes way!” He lets out a nervous giggle followed by a pained hiss.

- “Shit,” you reply, watching as his brows curve into a pained arch - “Don’t make yourself bleed more trying to say you love me more when you already know that I love you more.”

- Peter nods his head towards the beside table, nervously giggling through his pain, “That drawer says otherwise.”

- You open the drawer, a velvet box stared back at you. “Peter,” you choke, eyes darting back to his loving gaze.

- A goofy smile is plastered across his face as he bites his tongue, nodding toward the drawer, “Be a doll and hand me that box.”

- You oblige, sitting the box on his Spidersuit-covered thigh, not knowing whether or not to stare at Peter or the box.

- his glove covered finger opens the box, his eyes meet yours again.

- “Peter,” you whisper.

- “I’ve had this for a long time now,” he says plainly, eyes flickering as he licks his lips. “I’ve known since the first day that-that you and me were supposed to be together. I - I’ve wanted to do this for so long now that I don’t even know what to say.” He looks away, down towards the ring. “But what I do know is that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I- I want to be the reason why you laugh.. and- and I want to take care of you.. start a life with you and start a family.. and grow old with you right beside me, calling me a dumbass and making fun of me until the day we die.”

- He holds the box in his hand, “Would you marry me?”

#tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter one shot #tasm headcanon #tasm headcannon #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x you #andrew garfield imagine #spiderman fluff #peter parker fluff #tasm!peter headcannons #tasm!peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #headcanons with cait #headcannons with cait: drunk edition

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liz-allyn · 1 year

Text

sugar and vice, pt 5 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: what is the appropriate amount of time to forgive your kidnapper?

words: 3.9 k

warning: mob-typical violence. whump. hurt/comfort. allusions to violence. coersion. kidnapping. blood. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self talk, shameless forced proximity trope. 'only ten one bed oops' trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. nudity. extremely toxic relationships.

a/n - as many of you pointed out in the last chapter, this version of Peter is darker and messier than TASM canon. expect him to make a lot of mistakes before he becomes a changed man. if he changes.

18+. you're responsible for your own content consumption. but that being said, if you don't remember watching an episode of pop up [music] video on a television network, then keep it movin'.

Back to Part 4

Part 5

She awoke to darkness. Her whole body felt sore. Head throbbing from the onslaught of tears. She felt like a ceramic pot that had been roasting in a kiln for hours.

Stirring from her dreamless sleep, she glanced left and right. Her hands were free of the bindings. Brow curled, she looked over at the closed door, pondering if her captor had snuck into the room while she was out.

Honey sat up with a start, blinking the remnants of sleep from her eyes. She reached for her wrists, finding nothing but an oily residue left behind. Still puffy from the duct tape rash, her skin was sensitive to her touch, but otherwise unharmed.

She glanced up at the closed door. Her stomach churned. She fought the instinct to curl up and hide beneath the bed. The memory of Peter’s fierce gaze lingered, a raw burn in her mind.

Despite her logic telling her that she was the victim, she still felt conflicted.

She had been kidnapped, sure— and she needed to do whatever was necessary to survive. Strangely, she still felt guilty for taking a swing at him like she did. As soon as her fingers touched the rock, she slammed it into the side of his head, without much thought.

“What are you, stupid? It’s a wonder you even make it home alive each night!”

She couldn’t quite name what came over her. She dealt a blow to his temple that could’ve killed him. Surprised that it didn’t. And then what would that be like? Could she really find it in herself to kill another human being? Not to mention, she’d be alone in the woods with a dead body, with no clue where she was.

The thought made her queasy, twisting her stomach into a pretzel. She could’ve just run away, but when it came time to do so, she froze. Typical.

While she was hiding, she watched and listened quietly to his rampage below. Rage was one thing she expected, but not the misery she witnessed. The look she found in his eyes was something else entirely. Heartbreak and relief, like he would burst into tears at any moment.

It made her heart ache to witness it.

And then she hit him with a rock. Like some kind of cavewoman.

Brilliant idea, she thought disdainfully.

“You need to slow down!” More bitter thoughts flooded her, this time with the voice of her mother. “Always talking too fast! Always moving too fast! You do without thinking. No wonder you mess everything up.”

Her eyes grew heavy with melancholy and exhaustion. Despite the darkness wrapped around her, she felt like sleep was out of the question.

A strange melody crept up through the closed door to her room. Voices. Percussion. Music. Upbeat and entrancing.

There wasn’t a clock in her room but she had figured it was the middle of the night. Why would Peter be jamming out in the middle of the night?

Her stomach twisted again. The thought of coming face-to-face with him gave her chills. She rubbed her wrists idly. She could feel bruises there. She was afraid to leave the room. But she was also starving, and lamented not having at least one sandwich before her daring and ill-conceived escape. She was also miserably dehydrated, as every bit of moisture had leaked through her swollen eyelids.

And she had to pee. And that was now all she could think about. Her room thankfully had its own bathroom. Swinging her still-booted feet over the edge of the bed onto the floor, she tiptoed to the bathroom and relieved herself.

She thought she heard singing. Bad, out-of-tune singing. Creeping to the door, she placed her ear against the cool surface, trying to identify thes source. Out of curiosity or courage, she twisted the handle and peeked her head around the frame.

By the time she reached the bottom step of the staircase into the living room, she had a full view of the area and Peter was nowhere in sight. The one person who was in the room (and the source of music) was Miles, as he sat at the kitchen bar and dangled a pizza slice larger than his head above his mouth.

The music was echoing across the room from a tiny portable speaker on top of the kitchen bar. In his own world, the teenager’s head bobbed as he blew steam from his pizza, then took a giant bite.

She watched curiously as she approached from behind. The giant decorative clock built into the great room wall confirmed that it was incredibly late. Or early. One wouldn’t know it from Miles’ energy, or the volume of his jam session. She looked left and right, expecting to find more people, but saw no one else.

The flow of the music was broken when she accidentally walked into a low-height side table, her knee knocking to the corner. The lamp on top of the table jolted and Miles spun around in the barstool, letting out a piercing screech that could best be described as falsetto.

Honey responded in kind, letting out a shrieking Ahhhhhh of her own. Miles curled himself up on the stool, pulling his palms and one leg up defensively. “Sorry!” she blurted, as he clutched his own chest. “Sorry! So sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“You scared the crap outta me!” Miles said, his panic ebbing.

“I didn’t mean to—wait, is that how you really scream?”

“What about it?!” Miles exclaimed indignantly. “Not the point! You’re the one who’s creepin’ up on people like we’re in a horror movie... Crazy... La Llorona stuff!” The pitch of his voice normalized as he took a deep breath, frustration subsiding. “I dead-ass almost punched you in the face—I don’t mess around!”

“Sorry, sorry...” Honey babbled, her face twisted in a grimace. “I, uh, didn’t mean... to, uh... Llorona...”

“It’s fine!” Miles sighed, his heart rate slowing. It didn’t sound fine. “It’s over—maybe let’s just not ever mention this again, okay? To anyone? Especially not to people I know.”

Honey nodded her head in agreement, motioning that her lips were zipped and she was ‘throwing away the key.’

A few awkward moments of silence passed between them as he reached over and turned down the music on the speaker. He straightened out his zip-up hoodie uncomfortably. A small smile crept up on her face. She found his reaction endearing, and not at all what she expected from—whatever it was they were involved with.

“Um,” she cleared her throat. “Hi.”

Miles gave her a sheepish look. “Hi.”

There was a mountain of awkwardness between them. She looked around, then pointed at the massive box of pizza. “So... post-midnight snack?”

“Oh,” the teenager responded, looking back at the pizza. “Yeah, that’s right. You’re probably hungry.” He reached for the box, opening the lid. “Here, have some. It’s Lucia’s. There’s plenty.”

“Lucia’s?” she exclaimed, pondering the distance between wherever they were to downtown Flushing. She moved to the box, peering inside. “I like Dani’s.”

“Well, nobody’s perfect. This pie heats up better,” Miles remarked, taking another bite of his slice.

“Yeah?” Her eyes slid over to Miles. “How fresh is it?”

“Boss said to bring Lucia’s. So I did.” He shrugged his shoulders idly, placing his attention back on his slice of pizza. She slumped with a huff, having been dismissed.

“Boss,” she repeated, a chill going down her spine. “You mean Ben. Or...Peter, I guess,” She glanced around the mostly empty kitchen and living area, almost as if saying his name would summon him like Bloody Mary. “Is he here?”

Miles smacked his lips, wiping his mouth. “Nope, just me.”

There was a pleasant calmness in his demeanor. It seemed to her that he was the only normal person that she’d met since being pulled off the train. The only person that treated her like a real person. Not that Peter hadn’t tried to show her kindness... or at least, what his mind perceived as kindness.

She rocked forward on her toes, suddenly interested in the fibers of the cardboard box. “Is he... Is he okay?”

Miles avoided looking at her, and she wondered how much Peter had told him about her escape attempt. She wondered why she felt suddenly embarrassed by her actions. Ashamed even. What did that say about her?

“Didn’t say much,” he replied. “Said he needed to take care of some stuff. Told me to hang out in case you needed anything.”

Something burned in her chest, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. “That was nice,” she stated in earnest. “I guess.”

“He’s pretty cool,” Miles nodded, matter-of-factly. “Nice guy.”

She bitterly scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

He didn’t respond. He was skilled at avoiding her provocation despite how badly she wanted to start a fight. Passively, he devoured his pizza in record time, then reached over the box to grab a paper plate. It looked sorely out of place compared to the grandeur of the kitchen.

“Wan’some?” he asked. “I also brought soda and stuff. Boss said no TV, but we can watch a movie on Netflix or something. Or we got a Switch. You ever play Smash Bros?”

It took her a moment for the implications to sink in. “‘No TV?’” she repeated with a growl, letting out a frustrated sigh. “What are we, children?”

She snatched the paper plate from his hand and reached into the box, grabbing herself a slice of pizza. Without further protest, she bit into the pie, savoring the taste. Lucia’s was superior, she recognized.

“He said to get you whatever you needed,” he answered, paying her complaints no mind. “The whole house is free range except for the office. But everything else is cool. You can use the gym. There’s a library. The sauna. A pool, if you wanna check that out, too.”

She blinked at him, nearly choking on her pizza. “This place has a pool?”

“Heated,” he wiggled his eyebrows enticingly.

She glanced down, conniving. “What about a computer?”

Miles shook his head. “Don’t know about that.”

“Could I borrow your phone?”

“No can.”

“C’mon,” she pleaded, her voice gentle. “I’m not gonna call the cops. Just wanna check in with my mom.”

“Can’t bring phones out here,” he shrugged apologetically. “It’s a rule. Phones can be hacked and traced. All you need is a sus text like ‘Hey, I’m here,’ or ‘We issued you a refund for $600,’ and you click on the link and boom. They got you.”

Honey peered at him suspiciously, “Who’s they?”

“No clue.”

She rolled her eyes. “Your ‘boss’ sounds pretty paranoid if you ask me.”

“That actually wasn’t his rule,” Miles explained conversationally. He leaned back in the barstool in a way that made her anxious. “That was Peni. She’s our tech nerd.”

“Peni?” she repeated.

“Yeah, she’s like—a genius.”

Her pizza suddenly became too chewy. “So I’m just a prisoner?” she huffed.

Miles looked over at her for a few moments, considering her. He let out a quiet sigh. “I know it’s a lot,” he said kindly, then added with consolation. “Pete’s a lot. Sometimes.” Stone-faced, she stared back skeptically. “But he’s a really good dude. Just... he worries. He wouldn’t do all this if he didn’t care.”

She glared at him through lidded eyes. “Do you hear yourself right now?” she spat. “You sound like a Lifetime movie. Do I need to call Child Protective Services?”

“Hey, not cool. M’not a child,” he bristled, offended. “I’m sixteen.” She stared at him with a raised brow, watching as he stuffed another slice of pie into his mouth. “Wan’some Mountain Dew?”

She blinked. Several times. Then resigned herself. “Sure.”

The eerie indigo and orange glow of civil dawn peeked through the bay windows of the great room. It was silent except for soft snores. With weary eyes and a suit jacket which had been wrinkled by physical exertion, Peter wandered into his house even more of an alien than when he’d left it.

The sort of activities in which he’d participated in earlier that night did that to him. It made him a stranger in his own home. Even more in his own skin.

He paused briefly and took a moment to gaze upon the lanky teenager sprawled out on one of the leather couches. Jordans crossed. sticking up over the sofa arm. A Nintendo controller rested on his chest as he dozed deeply, film forming in the corner of his open mouth. The sight made Peter crack a bittersweet smile. Nostalgia accompanied by an ache of longing. Somewhere beneath Miles’ oversized clothes, there was a good kid who wasn’t all that different from Peter.

Who he used to be.

His eyes roved across the room to the opposite sofa. Honey was curled up like a cat, still in the blouse and jeans that she arrived in. Her hiking boots were placed neatly next to the couch. The snuggly sight of her made his heart leap into his throat. Her upper body expanded and deflated in a steady rhythm like ocean waves, and the action both entranced and haunted him. The bittersweet feeling in his chest soured and blackened, until it became a guilt-ridden tumor wrapping tendrils around his heart.

He had been so cruel earlier. He erupted into a fit of blind rage. A brute. The kind of anger that made people want to turn their heads. Anger that if Gwen were still alive, she wouldn’t be able to look at without being sickened. He was the sort of person that Aunt May and Uncle Ben would cross the street to avoid.

He thought he’d lost her too. And he was terrified.

No wonder she was scared. It was his fault, to think that she could somehow see him as something other than a monster. Now, there wasn’t much hope in changing her mind.

Peter felt his eyes burn as he peeled them from her lithe form. He glanced down at his hands, observing the deep crimson stains in his skin. Rusty-brown spots soiled the wrinkled cuffs of his dress shirt.

He’d have to throw it out, he mused. There’d be no getting those stains out. No matter how much time he put into scrubbing. No matter if he flayed his own skin off his bones, the blood would always be there.

His heart rate quickened. He felt bile rising in his throat. With alarm, he disappeared down a hallway, tucking himself swiftly in a washroom.

When he returned, he was shirtless. His forearms were bright red, stinging with how hard he’d scrubbed. Head down, he crept quietly towards the staircase leading up to the bedrooms on the upper level.

He paused at the sofa, glancing down longingly at the woman he would never deserve.

The woman that would never forgive him for how he acted.

Never forgive him for what he was. The thought made his lower lip tremble.

He didn’t deserve her. This was an undeniable fact.

But regardless, she was still his responsibility. His to protect. His to keep safe.

His to keep.

His shadow fell over her as he reached down and gently lifted her from the sofa. Effortlessly, he carried her weight like a towel over his arm, or a down-pillow in his hands. Ascending the staircase with her tucked against his chest, he didn’t miss the way she huddled closer to his warmth. She sighed against the skin over his heart in a way that made gooseflesh rise.

Gently, he ferried her, like a small boat on a glass lake. He strode past the door to the room that she had occupied and continued down the hallway, headed to the southern-facing end of the house. He approached the heavy oak door to his bedroom and used his toe to push it open. The action barely disturbed her at all. Like floating on a cloud.

Moving through the bedroom darkened by blackout curtains, he drifted across his room and rested her body on the silk surface of the California-king bedspread. Delicately, he placed her head on a 1000-thread count pillow void of any scents other than his own. He hoped that it would smell like her shampoo by the time she woke up.

He stepped back from the bed, listening the pulsation of her heart. Studied the pace of her breathing. Fixated on her soft features as she floated in her slumber. A familiar pang reached his chest as he watched her, hesitating for only a moment more before he padded to the other side of the bed.

She sighed in her sleep, nuzzling the softest pillow she’d ever laid on, and shuddered comfortably as two arms wrapped around her waist. She felt herself pulled back and was cradled by a firm form shaping her own. It was warm. She was warm. The breath on the back of her neck was warm.

Her eyes shot open, a small gasp catching in her throat. Rapidly, she blinked through the murky twilight of the foreign bedroom, her heart spiking.

“Don’t,” she heard a deep, raspy voice whisper in her ear. She went rigid, recognizing the owner of the voice and the body pressed up against hers. Alarm flooded her.

“Please don’t,” he said softly, with a tone that sounded shockingly broken. She was frozen. Stunned. By fear or surprise, or both.

Another murmur, “Stay with me.”

It was a whimper shaped like a demand. With it, she swore she could feel a tremble in his grip. He buried his face in her hair, his bearded chin tucking into her shoulder. His arms locked her into an impenetrable grip.

Instinct was screaming at her to break the hold. Told her she needed to fight. Or run, as far and fast as she could manage.

It wouldn’t be very far. The previous afternoon he proved that he was more than capable of bringing her back.

She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The way the air from his lungs ghosted over her nape made her eyes flutter shut.

His arms were heavy. Firm, but not painful. Solid, not tight. She imagined the hearty limbs of the oak in the backyard of her childhood home. Three seasons out of the year, she’d scale into its arbor, hiding from her troubles. She once wanted to build a home there.

She should fight. She should run.

There was a monster in her bed. She was in a monster’s bed.

And yet, sleep took her soon after. The most peaceful rest she’d had in ages.

When she emerged from her rest, she was alone again. Harsh daylight flooded into the bedroom she hadn’t had the chance to see. After a moment of confusion, she turned around to see the other side of the bed unoccupied. The blankets undisturbed. She glanced down at her own clothes. Though wrinkled and dirtied from her tree climbing adventure and attempted escape, they were intact.

She was surprised, but even more surprised at the strange mix of... anxiety?

When is the appropriate amount of time when you’re forced into your kidnapper’s bed for him to... you know... make a move? Was it her? Was she awful, or even worse—did she smell bad?

The line of self-conscious questioning and odd disappointment frustrated her further. She sighed, silenting cursing her own stupidity, shaking the thought from her mind.

Someone once told her that if life was a horror film, she’d be the first to die. It would’ve offended her more if she wasn’t wrapped up in the notion that if life could be a horror film, how would any of us know we were in one?

Her mother answered— ”Stupid, stupid girl.”

Attention now turned to the surroundings, she came face-to-face with another real-life magazine spread. A dream bedroom. The coziest jewel of this particular dream home.

Although it was a modest size, it didn’t feel that way. The primary bedroom was decorated with a soothing blend of alabaster stone, exposed beams of reclaimed wood, and snuggly linen tones. Vaulted ceilings lined with ash. A winding, black iron chandelier dangled over the four-post bed she laid in. A stone fireplace stood opposite from the bed, accompanied by an overstuffed linen chair. Just as in the other rooms, a double-height window accented with floor-to-ceiling drapes towered over the room and revealed the breathtaking mountain landscape.

She sat up and gathered her jaw up off of the bedspread. Wiped drool from her lip. The room was charming and warm, like fuzzy socks and sherpa blankets. Marshmallows melting on hot cocoa. It wrapped around her, like a hug.

Like her visitor last night.

She yanked her eyes off of the rustic-contemporary decor, searching for Peter, as if he would’ve somehow camouflaged himself into the space. Placing her socked feet down on the blessedly toasty hardwood, she peered around curiously. The gentle roar of water running caught her attention as she wandered to the other side of ithe room. An open doorway led into another massive space, one side lined with wardrobe cabinetry and the other half of the room obscured by a wall.

Idly, she followed the path through what she recognized as a closet larger than her apartment, rounding the corner of the freestanding wall. Clouds billowed around her, as she gazed open-mouthed at the primary bathroom. Sunlight poured in, lighting up the space, bouncing off of white marble and black obsidian glass tile—

And Peter Parker.

Steam wafting off of his nude form, hot water pouring down his backside. She paused midstep, eyes like saucers. Felt the blood rush to her face. Panic swallowed her. She imagined this is exactly what deers must feel right before getting plowed by an F-150, blinded by headlights.

Except that she was blinded by his wet pale skin, the way the steam rose from it, like he was the source of heat. The smattering of freckles spread faintly across his shoulders. His palms were flat against the backsplash as he bowed his head into the stream of water. His dark locks slicked back by a cleansing cascade.

She followed the current down the curve of his shoulders and the peaks of his spine, down to the dimpled valleys of his lower back, and that breathtaking canyon ridge that dips down in a V at his hips— whatever that’s called— and never in her life would she see herself as an ‘ass enthusiast,’ but her mouth was watering now, maybe from the lack of hair on his body (his skin was so buttery smooth, what was his skincare secret?) or the subtle curvature of his shapely cheeks—

Aimlessly, she collided with a freestanding towel drying rack, sending it clamoring to the tile floor. To her ears it sounded like the whole Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade falling down a staircase into a pile of cookware. She didn’t bother to see if Peter could hear the racket.

Like Icarus into the Sun, she hurled her own body back into the closet before she could be seen. Landed hard on the carpeted floor with a thud. She scattered, scrambling like a crab, on her hands and knees until she could get to her feet and bolt from the room.

In a frenzy, she rushed to ‘her’ bedroom, the one nearest to the stairs. She didn’t breathe again until the door was slammed shut and she rested her weight against it. A fire raged beneath her skin, her face aflame with embarrassment. She dragged her palms down her cheeks, groaning with mortification, sinking to the floor.

At what point is it acceptable to creep on your kidnapper in the shower?

Continue to Part 6

a/n - I've gotten such overwhelmingly amazing feedback on this. thank you so much to each of you that commented, sent me an ask, and big thank you to those of you that reblogged!

don't forget, to be tagged you must reblog so I can keep track of you!

thank you so much, angels!

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sleepparalysisdemon112 · 1 year

Text

Need you here

Summary: You haven’t seen Peter since you left for college, so you decide to send him an alluring photo

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, mutual masturbation, phone sex afab!reader

Pairing: Peter 3 x Fem!reader

You pressed the send button with red cheeks and butterflies in your stomach. You hadn’t seen your boyfriend Peter since you left for college, and now you were all alone in your dorm your roommate spending the night with her boyfriend, and you being three states away from your own was really starting to get to you.

The message you sent said

Hey spider boy, miss you ;)

with the message was a picture of you in his favorite red underwear set your perfect body spread out in an alluring angle on your cotton bed sheets.

Now you waited, but not for long.

In less than two minutes he was typing a response and your head felt woozy, after all these years of dating Peter, you had never sent him an alluring picture, there wasn’t a need too. But you couldn’t understand why you were so nervous; he had seen you naked before.

Y/n call me

you read the message and immediately hit the call button placing the phone to your ear.

“You look so beautiful,” was the first thing he said a heaviness in his breathe.

“I miss you,” you whined, and he let out a quiet laugh, “Me too baby, me too,” there was a silence for a moment before you started, “I want to touch myself,” you spoke uneasily testing the waters of phone sex.

“Go ahead angel I was about to after that fucking picture,” you smiled to yourself, “I’m taking my underwear off,” you told him. “Fuck, me too,”

-----

It had been about three minutes and you both were touching yourselves imagining one another and moaning occasionally. “Fuck it never feels as good unless it’s you angel,” he went on, “Miss you, your hands and perfect pussy, miss that sweet little mouth and those perfect tits,” he let out a groan and you increased the pace of your finger circling your clit the knot in your stomach and the feeling of your finger rubbing your sensitive area was euphoric.

“My fingers- aren’t as good as yours, I want you here,” you moaned and placed the phone beside your pillow turning the speaker on as you used your now other free hand to grope your left boob pinching the nipple.

“Peter I’m close,” you moaned out after a couple more rubs on your clit. “Me too angel--” he groaned his breathe heavy into the speaker. “Come for me baby,” his voice was breathy and only encouraged you more.

“Peter-- fuck,” you moaned and moved your finger impossibly faster your legs twitching as your released washed over you, your face contorting and eyes squeezing shut.

You heard Peter let out a loud groan of your name and assumed he had also.

“I need you here,”

#Peter Parker #Peter #Parker #Peter Parker x reader #Peter 3 #Peter Parker 3 #Spiderman #Tasm Spiderman smut #Tasm Spiderman #tasm!spiderman x you #tasm fanfiction #Tasm peter parker x you #Tasm Spiderman fluff #Peter Parker smut #marvel #Marvel smut

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luveline · 6 months

Note

hellooo!! im not sure if your requests are open so feel free to ignore this but i was wondering if you could write for tasm!peter where the reader just got her wisdom teeth removed and she’s all loopy on anesthetics and forgets peter is her boyfriend? i saw this video where this girl got her wisdom teeth pulled and forgot she was dating her boyfriend and fell in love with him all over again😭😭

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR7sGQo5/

thank you for your request! ♡ fem, 1k

"Here she is," the nurse says gently, walking you out with his arm behind your back. "Alright, say hi to Peter."

"Hi, Peter," you mumble, eyes on the floor.

Peter grins at you, worry warm at the back of his throat. "Hey. Is that everything?" he asks, nodding at the nurses paper bag of aftercare.

"Everything you'll need." The nurse helps Peter take over, hoisting your arm over his shoulders before stepping away. "Alright, feel better, okay? And don't hesitate to call if something comes up. We're here to look after you."

You seem appreciative in your fog, but it's hard to tell. Peter curls his arm around your hip and gives it a soft rub as he leads you to the stairs. Whoever devised the floor plan here had murder on their mind —the second floor is completely inaccessible. Luckily, Peter has a lot of strength at his disposal.

You can feel it. "Woh, you're strong," you murmur.

"You know that already." His grip on you tightens, pretty much carrying you down the tight staircase.

"Do I?" you ask. You make a sound like you're hurting, a squeak.

"I'd hope so." At the end of the staircase, he sits you down, worried you're not feeling well. "You okay? I can princess carry you if you need me to."

You look at him with wide eyes. He turns to check there's no one standing behind him, but you're really looking at him. "What?" he asks, touching your knee, imploring. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"You're Peter?" you ask.

Ah, the amnesiac effect of anaesthetic. His touch turns comforting, stroking your thigh with as much care as he can drive into his palm alone. "That's me. Hey, if you're forgetting me, does that mean you're not mad at me for last Friday anymore? 'Cos I know you said you forgive me but I can tell it still pisses you off–"

Your eyes fall to his hand. "Why would I be mad at you?" you ask.

"I finished the milk and put the carton back in the fridge, even though I promised I'd stop doing it. You see the jug and think there's milk left. We were gonna have macaroni and cheese..." He nudges your fingers with his. "Are you okay? You don't look like yourself."

"What do I usually look like?"

"Not so, you know. Daunted."

"You're really handsome," you whisper, refusing to meet his eye.

"Oh, you think so?"

You nod like your head is too heavy. You're embarrassed, you sweetheart, oh my god Peter could cry into your lap.

"Let's get you to the car, baby."

"Where are we going?" The gauze gives you the world's most adorable lisp, and it turns your gasp into a hum as Peter stands you up.

"Home."

"Together?"

"Yeah, we live together. It's a nice place, and you're a great decorator, you know? It's cozy."

"Thank you," you say shyly.

You're not not shy with him, but it's been a long time since you got so quiet over a practically innocuous comment. He wants to see how you'll react to real compliments, over the top stuff that he one hundred percent means. It's a little mean, but when will you ever be like this again?

He helps you out past the desk and onto the street to your car where it's parked a half a block down. "Don't worry about all this, okay? I'm gonna take such good care of you, sweetheart. There's an ice pack and a brand new comforter with your name on it waiting at home." Peter smiles at your starry eyes as they flash to his, amazed at his simple plans. "How does that sound, beautiful? Is there anything you want before we head home? Anything that would make you feel better?"

"You're gonna take care of me?" you ask breathlessly.

"That's my job. That's my number one boyfriend duty."

"You're my boyfriend?"

"I am!" he says happily, laughing as he speaks. "For a while. I've been trying to take things further but you're always really shy about getting married–"

"You want to get married? To me?"

Peter presses a soft kiss to your cheek. "You're the only person I'd ever want to get married to. We already picked the flowers–"

"We did?"

He laughs again, all your questions. He loves regular you but loopy you is especially endearing. "Last time I got super drunk, yeah. You never let me forget it."

"So you love me?" you ask, stopping short.

"I love you so much," he says immediately, hugging you into his side. He dots another kiss against the top of your head. "You should remember that even if you don't remember me."

"I love you," you say quietly.

Peter doesn't know if that's your memory returning, or if you've fallen in love with him in the last fifteen minutes. He could easily fall in love with you that quickly, and yet he's still amazed at your confession.

"That's good. That's great. Thank you, sweetheart," he says, desperate to hold your face in his hands but weary of causing you future pain. "There's your car," —he points, lowering his head to yours to make sure you can see it, hand now protectively held between your shoulder blades— "let's go home now. Yeah?"

You start walking again at his requests. He can pretty much see the steam rising off of your face, giddy with happiness at these revelations. You're together, you're in love, and you think he's handsome. He wonders what you'll have to say about his biceps in this state of delirium; you go crazy for his arms sober.

Which reminds him.

"I totally have another secret to tell you," he says, unlocking the car as you approach and helping you into the passenger seat.

"What is it?" you ask.

Peter closes you in and skirts around the door, climbing into the driver's seat. He's glad that New York is as ridiculously loud as ever, because not even the closed doors or your sodden gauze can smother the way you shriek.

"My boyfriend is Spider-Man?!"

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keerysfreckles · 4 months

Note

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

pictures - peter parker (tasm)

pairing: peter parker x f!reader

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

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

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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flightlessangelwings · 29 days

Text

The Way We Feel When We Dance

Tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Word count-3.9k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), reader dances, protective!Peter, harassment, Spiderman picks up reader (he has super strength but still I wanted to add this here), reader is hinted to be more curvy but it open to interpretation, fluff, feelings, Peter and reader are both adults and are at a dance club in the beginning, no use of y/n

Notes- This is a very late part 2 of my 5k follower thank you gift fics (I did one Pedro character and one non Pedro character lol). Thank you all who have been following and supporting me and my works here! While this reader is not physically described at all other than body parts, I pictured and heavily implied that she is Latina here. But it can absolutely still be read by anyone. Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that as well and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new things!

The pulse of the upbeat Latin music reverberated through the room as the lights danced in harmony with the beat. Sweaty bodies filled the dance floor that all moved to the rhythm. Feet stepped in time with the beat as hips swayed from side to side and arms shimmied with purpose. Smiles and laughter filled the air between each dancer as everyone had a fun time dancing the night away.

From the edge of the room, Peter sat at the bar. Even though the crowd, his gaze stayed solely on you. You captivated him with the way you danced to the music, carefree and beautiful. Your outfit accentuated your hips perfectly, and Peter couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

Feeling his eyes on your figure, you opened your own from when you closed them from getting lost in the music. When your gaze met his, a bright smile lit up your face, which Peter mirrored. He raised his glass up in cheers as he watched you melodically make your way across the dance floor. A tinge of heat rose across Peter’s face as you stared at him with intent as you closed the gap between your bodies.

“Why don’t you join me, Peter?” you asked in a sultry tone as you swayed your body against his.

Peter’s cheeks reddened, “You know I have two left feet, sweetheart,” he giggled, feeling like a schoolboy around you.

You smirked as you leaned in closer to murmur in his ear, “You can swing from building to building hundreds of feet in the air,” you teased, “And you’re afraid to dance in public?”

“It’s not the same,” he retorted playfully as he nudged your side. Peter’s gaze dropped down to where your hips still swayed from side to side in a slow, lazy rhythm, “Besides, I’m enjoying my view right now.”

“Oh come on, Pete,” you pleaded as you slid your hand in his, “Here I’ll start off with an easy one. It’s three steps, I think you can handle it.”

“But…”

“Come on, babe!” Your instance was firm yet light-hearted. You knew if he truly didn’t want to dance, he would stop you, and you wouldn’t force it. Sometimes, your boyfriend just needed a little encouragement. And besides, you really wanted to feel his arms around you and the two of you danced together to the beat of the music, letting the rest of the world fade away…

Peter’s nervous giggle got drowned out by the music as he allowed you to guide him back to the dance floor. With all his strengths as Spiderman, Peter knew that you were his ultimate weakness, and he couldn’t deny you anything even if he wanted to. So, he could put his insecurities aside for the night and dance with you. Besides, holding you close as you lost yourselves in the music wasn’t a terrible thought…

“Put your arms on my waist,” you instructed once you found a spot on the dance floor with some space to move.

“Gladly,” Peter grinned widely as he did so.

You rolled your eyes for a moment, but let out a soft gasp when you felt his tight grip on your body. It made your heart pound more than the dancing did as the warmth and security of his embrace engulfed you, and you lost yourself for a moment. It was only your name in Peter’s voice that brought you back, “Right,” you met his eyes as you placed your hands on his shoulders, “Ok, watch me and do what I do in reverse.”

Peter swallowed hard and nodded as his gaze slowly ran down your body. He took the opportunity to study your outfit and how good it looked on you up close, and he memorized every inch of your figure.

“Like this,” you started slowly, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you stepped to the rhythm in a simple motion, “One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three,” you stepped back and first, side to side as your hips shimmied to the music.

Peter tried his best to keep up, but under your lead, he found he quickly fell into the rhythm.

“That’s it!” you exclaimed as you started to pick up your pace to better match the beat that played around you.

Laughter erupted from Peter as he felt himself get lost in the music too. The Latin beat that played highlighted your movements as the two of you danced together, wrapped in each other’s arms. A grin of your own lit up your face as your lips parted in a wide smile and you started to add more flair to your movements.

Peter was captivated. He almost forgot to move as he watched you lose yourself in the music. You looked so beautiful like this, and Peter counted himself the luckiest man in the world to get to have you, to get to be with you. A stupid smile lit up his face as he lost the rhythm on the song that played from being too enthralled with you.

Until…

“Ow!” you exclaimed as you suddenly stopped dancing.

“Sorry!” Peter realized what the problem was: he was so focused on you that he accidentally stepped on your foot, “Sorry, sweetheart,” he repeated as he caressed your shoulders, “You alright?”

“I”m fine,” you waved it off with a laugh. Feeling his grip on you, suddenly the music faded away and your world became just Peter. The way he held you and the way he looked at you made your heart flip in your chest, and you found that you didn’t care about your night out of dancing anymore.

Sending the change in your demeanor, and knowing that look on your face, he leaned in close and murmured, “Wanna get out of here?” Peter’s tone was low, rumbling against your ear and sending a chill down your spine. He placed a light, playful kiss on the tip of your nose while he was so close to you.

“Yes,” you breathed, knowing exactly what he meant and wanting that exact same thing.

This time, it was Peter who slid his hand in yours and led you away. You followed willingly and eagerly as you couldn’t help but giggle. No one had ever made you feel the way Peter did, and finding him was the best thing that ever happened to you.

And Peter felt the exact same way about you.

The cool air made you dizzy for a moment as the door to the outside opened. You let out a sigh as you adjusted to the feeling of the New York night air on your skin, and it became a welcome relief from the heat inside.

“You alright?” Peter asked.

“Great,” you answered, “Let’s go home.”

Peter smiled as he led you away from the club and into the busy night streets. New York truly never slept, and even late into the night, it was full of life and hustle and bustle. It was just as crowded outside as it was inside as you and Peter made your way down the long streets of the city. You felt safe, though, with your hand firmly in Peter’s.

But, you didn’t make it far before a group of men sneered at you as you passed by them. You felt their pointed gazes before Peter noticed them and you shuffled yourself closer to him. As the two of you walked by, they blew kisses at you and yelled obscene nicknames.

“Hey baby!” one of them shouted, “Why don’t you drop that little shrimpy boy and I’ll show you what a real man can do?”

The other man laughed as they all started to follow close behind.

Peter frowned as he pulled you in closer, tightening his grip on you, “I’ve got you,” he whispered to you, “Come on,” he turned down another street, hoping to lose the men in the crowd and avoid the situation escalating.

You let out a whine as you put your trust in him. Easily, you figured out that Peter wanted to use the crowd as a cover, but you stayed glued to his side still. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw that the men weren’t deterred and still tailed close behind you.

“Peter…”

“I know, I…”

He was cut off when a drunk couple bumped into the two of you, knocking you out of Peter’s grasp. You yelped as you found yourself separated from him, and over the noise of the crowd, you heard him call out your name.

“Peter!” you shouted back, trying to find him.

It was no use, though, and before you could blink, you found yourself alone. Not completely alone, though, as the group of men somehow found you after you got pushed away. “Shit,” you cursed under your breath as you turned and ran in the opposite direction. You could find Peter later, right now your first priority was losing these guys.

You made turn after turn trying to shake them, but it was no use. No matter where you went, the men were close behind, and they were catching up to you. And they continued to taunt you while they did so.

“Come on, sweet girl,” one leered, “We won’t hurt you.”

“Too badly,” another cackled darkly.

“Just give us a chance, pretty girl,” another pleaded in an insincere voice.

You whimpered as you tried to look for Peter in the crowd again, but to no avail, “Peter…” you hissed, “Dammit.” Lost in your panic, you didn’t notice that you turned into a dead end alley until you were face to face with a brick wall. “Shit,” your hands trembled as you turned around and saw that the men followed you, trapping you in the alley.

“It’s ok sweetheart,” one of them said in a voice that sent a chill down your spine, “We’ll take good care of you.”

Looking down at the ground, you saw a loose brick that fell out of the wall. You picked it up and threw it in the men’s direction, “Stay back!” you warned as the men easily ducked out of the way of the flying brick.

The men just laughed as they reached out for you. Having no other options, you closed your eyes and held your breath, anticipating the feeling of their rough hands on your body. But, it never came.

A twip from above whirled through the air, and the ball of webbing hit the hand of the man closest to you. He was knocked back, and his hand was pinned to the wall, stuck with the webbing.

“Didn’t anyone teach you boys that when a woman says “no” that you leave her alone?” a voice rang from above.

You opened your eyes and looked up, breathing a huge sigh of relief, “Spiderman!” you exhaled as he flipped down from his perch and stood in front of you, blocking the men.

“Spiderman!?” the other men clamored, “We weren’t doing nothing, we just…”

“It didn’t look like nothing to me,” he replied as he flicked his wrist, sending more webbing to the other men.

They all clamored as they tried to fight back, throwing punches that missed the webslinger over and over again. Spiderman easily avoided their punches and with just a few more flicks of his wrist, was able to catch all of them in his net. The men grunted and cursed as they found themselves stuck to either the wall or the ground, unable to move.

“Damn, you Spiderman!” one cried out.

“Fucking cockblock!” shouted another angrily.

Spiderman ignored them and turned to you, “You alright?” he asked in a softer tone.

“I am now,” you replied breathlessly as your heart pounded in your chest.

“Want a lift out of here?” he asked, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

Feeling more at ease, a smile grace your face, “I’d love one.”

“I’m gonna pick you up now,” his voice was soothing to you as he extended his arms out.

You nodded.

Spiderman stepped forward and wrapped his arm around you, lifting you off the ground with his superhuman strength. He paused and turned to the men who pursued you and said, “This is how you ask a lady out,” he sniped, “You should try asking nicely next time.” he added before he flicked his wrist and launched himself and you up and away.

Normally, you were too scared whenever Peter carried you through the city like this. But, after what almost happened, you were too preoccupied to notice more than the cool air in your face and the tight grip around your body. You buried yourself in the crook of his neck as you tightened your own grip on Peter as he flung you between the tall buildings of New York and towards the tiny apartment you both shared.

In no time, Peter made it to your window, opening it from the outside and setting you down carefully and gently. He hurriedly closed it before turning back around to face you, ripping his mask off in one swift motion as he closed the gap between your bodies.

“Are you ok?” he asked in a panic, “Did they hurt you?” Peter’s hand landed on your shoulders as he looked you over for any cuts or marks as he finally allowed himself to feel scared for you.

“I’m ok, Peter,” you replied back, your own voice sounding distant, “You found me just in time.”

Peter’s eyes locked with your for a moment before he dropped to the ground on his knees before you. He started to sob as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in cose, burying his face in your midsection, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he choked out between cries.

Tears of your own filled your eyes as your heart pounded in your chest. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and leaned over, covering him as you both held each other, “Don’t be sorry, Peter,” you whispered, “You saved me. I know you’ll always save me.”

He couldn’t help but cry harder at your words as he tightened his grip on you, “When we got separated,” he started, pausing to catch his breath, “I was so scared,” Peter confessed, “I was so scared something would happen to you… And I wouldn’t find you in time…”

“Hey,” you wiggled your way down to join him on the floor, “Look at me, Peter,” you cupped his face, and more tears fell down your cheeks as you looked into his red eyes, “You will always save me, Peter Parker. I know you will. I trust you with everything I am.”

Truthfully, you were just as scared as Peter was. The moment you were separated, you lost your security, your safe place. And while you had faith in him- you always did- that fear was still there. But right now, you had to be there for him, since he was already there for you.

Another tear rolled down Peter’s cheek, and you used your thumb to wipe it away. He whispered your name as he closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of your touch under his skin. It was a comfort, and anchor, and Peter knew he had to trust you just as much as you trusted him. He saved you tonight. And he would always save you. That was his promise to you.

“Peter…” you breathed his name as you closed the gap between your faces, pressing your lips to his.

It felt like an explosion of fireworks between your bodies as you connected as one. Passions quickly arose as Peter clung to you and deepened the kiss, tasting you. You moaned into his mouth as you kissed him back just as passionately and tightened your grip on him.

Heat rose in the room as suddenly you both had one thing on your minds. The need to feel each other, to get tangled together and lost in the other, was overwhelming. With only breaking away for quick moments to undress each other, you and Peter clumsily made your way to the bed, stripping each other and kissing wherever you could reach along the way.

By the time your legs hit the edge of the bed, you and Peter were both bare for each other. He grabbed onto you in an attempt to land you underneath him as he leaned your bodies towards the mattress. But, you surprised him. You grabbed onto his torso and turned your bodies around so that by the time you hit the bed, you straddled overtop of Peter.

“Wow,” he murmured as his eyes trailed across your naked body on top of him. Peter’s hands caressed up and down your sides, feeling every dip and curve of your body, memorizing every inch of you with his hands.

“Wow yourself,” you snickered back as you bit your lip and enjoyed the sight of Peter, your Peter, in between your legs.

Leaning forward, you placed your hands on his pecs, giving them a soft squeeze as you rocked your hips along his. Both of you hissed and mewled as your folds ran along his hardening cock. Jolts of electricity ran up your spine with every movement, and you felt the way his cock twitched in anticipation underneath your hips.

Peter let out a curse as his hands dug into your hips. And he only groaned louder when you lifted yourself up to line up your entrance with his cock. Normally, Peter liked to take his time with you, kissing you all over and worshiping your body before he entered you. But today was different. Today, you were both too needy, too desperate to feel each other that neither of you could wait any longer.

You let out a gasp as the tip of his length pushed past your first ring of muscle and started to stretch you out. Slowly, you lowered yourself along his length, letting Peter fill you up inch by inch as your hips moved closer to his. Peter’s own groans harmonized with your moans as he felt your warmth engulf him.

“Fuck…” Peter whispered in awe when your hips met his and he felt your muscles clench around him. He moaned your name as he tightened his grip on your body and fought to keep his eyes open; Peter didn’t want to miss a second of how beautiful you looked.

A loud moan escaped your lips as you rolled your hips forward, feeling Peter’s cock inside you. You squeezed his pecs harder as you started to bounce up and down. Feeling bubbled over as you rode Peter’s cock so that they were almost physically palpable between the two of you.

Moving faster, you heard your skin slap against Peter’s as you felt every inch of him inside you. Heat rose in the room as you both clung to the other. Emotions drove you as your tights screamed at you the longer you lifted and lowered yourself onto him. But, Peter helped you. He used his strength to guide your hips along his cock, along his body. He never lessened his grip on you as he slid his hands to the soft mounds of your ass to help you and feel you more.

Peter lost the battle with his eyes, and they finally closed to allow himself to get lost in you. A louder groan echoed from deep with him as he felt your warmth and your tightness envelope him over and over again. And Peter knew he wouldn’t last much longer if you kept riding him like this.

In a flash, Peter’s eyes snapped open and he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you. Before you could register his movements, you suddenly found yourself on your back as Peter flipped your bodies over so that he covered you.

“Peter…”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he grunted as he leaned forward, driving his cock even deeper into you as his forehead touched yours.

All you could do was moan as a shiver ran up your spine. Peter’s cock hit that sweet spot inside you with precision, and you felt like your body was floating as he started drilling into you at a fast and desperate pace. “Fuck!” you cried out as your body began to tremble.

Peter snaked his hand up the sheet and took yours as he continued to rock into you over and over again. You took his hand, holding it tightly as you felt his breath against the skin on your face. Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks from the overwhelming emotions, and you could feel ones from Peter as well.

Peter groaned your name over and over again with every thrust of his hips as he held your hand as tightly as he possibly could.

“Peter… I’m gonna cum…” you gasped.

“Me too, sweetheart,” he words were strained from how breathless he was, “Cum with me, sweetheart. Let me feel you.”

“Pete!” you cried out as more tears fell down your cheeks as your entire body tingled. As you were about to let out a loud cry with your climax, Peter’s lips suddenly covered yours, muffling your screams.

His own groans and grunts were muffled as well as he felt his own peak hit at the same time as yours. Peter’s eyes shut tightly as he kissed you deeply while he spilled himself into you. He could feel every muscle in your body clench around him as you came hard on his cock, and your moans reverberated within him as he kept his lips on yours.

Peter kept up his pace as long as he could, riding out every ounce of both your climaxes until he couldn’t hold himself up any longer. With one final thrust of his hips, Peter finally broke the kiss as he pulled out of you and collapsed down next to you with a loud huff. You exhaled deeply as you caught your breath, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. Together, the two of you laid sprawled out next to each other on the bed, letting yourself recover from that whirlwind of passions.

Neither of you were sure who moved first, but you both instinctively reached out for each other, wrapping yourself up in a pretzel of limbs as you held each other close. You kissed his skin wherever you could, and Peter did the same to you, peppering feather light kisses on your body. As your heartbeats both came down to normal, a comfort washed over both of you. Feeling each other cose like this, knowing you were both here, made you know that everything was ok. You were ok. He was ok.

“I’m gonna do everything I can to protect you, sweetheart,” Peter broke the silence, “No matter what. Your safety always comes first,” he said as he squeezed you tightly.

“I know you will, Peter,” you whispered back as you kissed his skin, “I trust you. I know I’m safe with you.”

“You always will be,” he sounded more distant, as if sleep started to take him over.

“I love you, Peter Parker.”

He smiled, “I love you too, sweetheart.”

You were quiet for a few moments before you grinned against his chest, “Next time we go out dancing, let’s leave the action for the dance floor instead of the streets.”

Peter joined your laughter as he placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, “I was thinking the same thing.”

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periprose · 9 months

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

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

You gasp, but Peter isn't finished.

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, you did." Peter snaps back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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