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#Peter Parker x gn!reader
irisvault · 29 days
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◜ 🎒 ◞ cotton spider ↪︎ peter parker
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peter parker x gn!reader. miscommunication. oneshot. lowercase intended. established relationship. || 0.5k words
summary; you’ve always loved your stuffed spiderman doll like your own son, but you’ve never shown peter because.. well, he is spiderman. nothing can get past someone with radioactive blood though.
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no different from your usual friday nights, you were aimlessly flitting through the seemingly endless pages of homework you’d been set for the week. you sighed, rubbing your tired eyes, and promised yourself you’d do it tomorrow.
you groan into the pillow, and reach for the blur of scarlet you could see from the corner of your eyes. “what should i do, spiderman?” you say to it, as if it were a friend. you supposed, in some ways, it was, but it mostly functioned as something to throw at walls when your frustration got the better of you. poor spidey.. you think, and kiss his imaginary injuries better.
you get the sense that stuffed spiderman is telling you to go to the kitchen for some food, so you agree with him, and bring him down with you. “what do you spiders even eat..?” you say, thinking back to peter’s huge lunches, fuelled by his hyper-fast metabolism.
you reach for a cupcake from a four-pack you bought recently and place spiderman on the counter. “don’t look at me like that..” you say, returning his stare. “spiders don’t eat cupcakes.”
you take a bite of the pink-frosted cupcake, relishing in the sweet taste. god, you could not get enough of this. vanilla is too good.
glancing over to spiderman, you ask, “would another one hurt?” spiderman obviously agrees with you. “good choice.” you take another cupcake and bring spiderman back to your room, but before you can even think of eating your second cupcake, a tall figure stands in the door.
“y/n!!”
peter?
you blink, and suddenly realise you’re holding a stuffed animal version of your boyfriend, so you naturally scramble to shove it under your pillow.
“haha…” you laugh, trying to act natural, “hey peter!”
peter sees through you. maybe it’s his tingle? “what was that?” he asks, suspicious. stupid tingle.
you try diverting the conversation, “cupcake?” you smile saccharinely, but your skin crawled with irritation at the fact that it was your cupcake. desperate times call for desperate measures, you suppose.
“ooh!” peter exclaims, “yes please—“ he grins, taking your offer, before realising your cunning trick worked on him.
you try to seem calm, though your nervous fiddling seems to catch peter’s attention.
“y/n.” he says, matter of factly, “you’re not cheating on me, are you?”
your eyes widen with shock, “what!? no, oh my god.” you rush out, trying desperately to assure him of your innocence.
“then— what do you have to hide?” he grimaces, “y/n/n… are you looking at… you know..”
you gasp, grabbing your pillow and thwacking him across the head, scandalised. he lets out a surprised yelp, but he notices the plush that you had hidden.
“oh my god…” he mutters, before howling with laughter. you realise your mistake, and go bright red, hiding your hands in your face.
“stop laughing!!” you protest, throwing the pillow at him once again.
“ow—!” he cries, but his grin remains the same. his lips quirk even further upwards before he asks, “how long have you had him..?”
you pout, sending him an evil look. “you’re making fun of me.”
“i’m not—!” he counters, but the fact he’s doubled over with laughter tells a different story.
you grab spiderman, and pat his head. “spidey doesn’t like being made fun of.”
peter’s expression morphs into one of incredulity, and he raises an eyebrow at you. “spidey?”
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astyrial · 5 months
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a little fate ps4!peter parker x gn!reader (meeting) synopsis: blind date mishaps word count: 708 warnings: none masterlist | requests are open
    "mary jane watson, i can't believe you set me up on some blind date, at a nice restaurant, and the guy doesn't even show up!" you whisper-yell into your phone as you sit in the corner of queens' best restaurant. 
  she laughs a little through the phone; as though she didn't set you up on an entirely embarrassing date. mary jane always exaggerated this 'friend' of hers that is just 'the nicest guy'. that the two had been friends since high school and that you would be absolutely perfect for him. what she forgot to mention was that he's a flake.
  "i'm sorry! i'm sure he's just running late, he has a very busy job tutoring some kids," mary jane pauses a little as she tries to explain what he does.
  you roll your eyes, letting out a breath to relax yourself, "tutoring kids to not show up on blind dates and immediately embarrass them? like it's been thirty minutes, he's lucky i even stayed this long."
  when you realize what time it is, you quickly get up, because you're definitely not staying longer than thirty minutes. "by the way, this is the sound of me getting out of my chair and leaving-" you start, walking towards the front of the restaurant.
  despite mary jane's concerns in your ear, you exit the front door of the restaurant. to your already heavy dismay, you bump into someone and immediately drop your phone and wallet. the guy quickly apologizes and picks it up for you. 
  "i'm so sorry, i'm late for a date, and i was not watching where i was going," he stands with one knee on the ground and his hand holding your items up. 
  the scene looked a little more romantic that the man had intended, a couple of people already gathering as you grab your phone from his hand. you look around to see the small crowd of people and purse your lips. your eyes look at him and then up at the people. as if this secret language you made up on the spot was gonna get him to stand up.
  "it's okay.. but maybe you should-" you hang up the phone and stick it into your back pocket, "get up, i'm sure your date wouldn't want you kneeling in front of another person.."
  his eyes widen to an extreme amount and he slowly gets up, turning around to the ground, "sorry everyone, she just dropped her things! nothing to see here folks!"
  you close your eyes for a second and hope that maybe this'll be forgotten by everyone that very minute. when you open your eyes, he's turned back around with an apologetic smile on his face. maybe, if he wasn't on a date with someone else, you'd say he's pretty cute.
  "uh sorry for that..." he stops as if he's waiting for you to give your name, his eyebrows raised.
  you shrug, acting like it didn't affect you one bit, "it's y/n, and it's the most exciting thing that's happened this evening so it's okay."
  his eyes widen once more and he pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. you look away for a second, wondering what he could possibly be doing that for. maybe he knows you? knows of you? 
  "you're y/n? i'm so sorry, i'm peter. i'm the friend of mary jane who is very late and also very sorry," peter's shoulders drop as soon as he sees your eyes widen just as wide as his.
  you roll your eyes and shake your head. sure the guy's cute, but he left you waiting for thirty minutes and left you stranded. and just because some ironic and slightly adorable meet cute occurred doesn't mean you were necessarily staying around to chat. 
  "please give me a chance, we can go somewhere else and i'll tell you the very legitimate reason as to why i'm late."
  the please does help a little, you think to yourself, and his nice jaw. with a quick thought of whether or not this is an awful idea, you look back at the restaurant and then back to him. "fine, but this just because of mary jane's glowing review of you."
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underoospeterparker · 1 month
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you said Peter Parker I’m HERE.
what about tasm Peter with reader who gets stressed out over something, maybe going slightly nonverbal. and whatever task reader is trying to do he’ll help doing it step by step, and explaining everything that happens quietly even if it’s obvious and asking lots of questions and giving options to make u feel more in control <3 and generally just being a perfect bf !!
he's so boyfriend coded i wanna scream!!!
peter parker x gn!reader
"(Y/N)?" You felt Peter's hand skim over your back, soothing strokes up and down that had you relaxing slightly in his arms. You leaned forward, however, you continued pressing violently at the keys on your laptop in a desperate attempt to finish your essay.
You squeezed your legs together on Peter's lap, pulling your computer closer to your chest. "Hey." His voice drew you back to the present, to his fingers scratching at your scalp. "Bub, you wanna take a break?"
When you shook your head, Peter frowned, and you felt guilty for being the one to put it there. Not guilty enough, though, because you continued to type on your document regardless of Peter's pleas.
"You've been working for ages," he commented, kneading gently at the fat of your stomach. He smiled when he felt you start to go lax in his arms, but it vanished when you immediately got up from his lap in search of another, less distracting location to finish off your essay.
"Honey," he called, then got up entirely to follow you. "Please, just ten minutes, alright? It's not good to be studying for too long. Is that okay?"
At this, you looked up at him from the sofa on which you had plopped yourself on. "I don't know," you whispered, and Peter cooed softly at your indecision.
"That's okay, sweetheart." He paused for a second. "Do you want a hug, maybe?" He murmured quietly, trying not to frighten you.
You nodded, and he was quick to wrap you up in his hold, arms stretching around your back, rubbing diligently when you buried your head into his chest. You stayed there for a while, and Peter let you, knowing you needed the hug especially now.
When you pulled away, he did too, but not before kissing your forehead and interlocking your hands with his. "Okay?" His whisper was soft.
Bobbing your head up and down, you motioned for him to sit next to you on the sofa.
"Do you need some help?"
You nodded, and Peter grinned, a smile that brightened his entire face and made you want to kiss it off. "You should've just asked, baby. You know I'll always help."
He took the laptop off your lap, putting it on his instead, so you rested your head on his shoulder while he looked over your work. He noticed you starting to drift off into sleep, your eyes shutting and then opening again.
Peter pressed another kiss to the side of your head. "Y' can rest your eyes for a little, honey. I'll wake you up in a bit. Just relax for now."
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thewriterg · 6 months
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𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫
pairing(s); peter parker x gn!reader, can be read as tasm or mcu peter
summary; With exams less than a week away poor dietary decisions, unhealthy sleep habits, and cramming everything you’ve learned into different sockets of your brain was on your radar but you and peter always pull through —flufftober day; 3—
word count; 800+
warning(s); fluff, kisses, pet names, sleepy couple, and language
playlist; sweater weather by the neighborhood
A/n:—GIFs; @kitherondale & @cherienymphe— me when I listened to sweater weather and didn’t make me want to rip my hair out my scalp; 🙀
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The wind blew into Peter's dimly lit room he sat at his desk glasses resting on the bridge of his nose laptop propped open the continuous sound of keys typing while his fingers danced along the board with a sudden halt before they continued in a melodic manner
Click-click-click-crunch-click-click click-crunch- click-cli-tap-tap-tap-tap-
You on the other hand lied on your stomach on the comfort of the bed the cool sheets under your skin engulfing you fully your nose in textbook quite literally as it lied under your chin whole you read over the section writing down key points to drill into your brain later humming a tune from your throat of a song that you remember faintly, that you couldn't quite get out of your head.
Peter could feel the heat rushing to his face and he was suddenly very grateful for the lack of bright light in his room as one of his hands rested on your knees the other typing against the keys of his laptop that same comforting noise
You were up from your position off the bed trailing behind Peter's chair he finished typing his last few words before turning his attention towards you a welcoming gaze looking over your features as you slid next to him shuffling awkwardly in the chair that was too small to fit you both before you settled on the potion of you leaning against the arm of the chair, your legs thrown over the brunettes lap, and your head resting against his shoulder
Click-click-click-click-click-tap-tap-tap-click-click
Suddenly he was jerking in his seat as your cold hands pressed against his stomach recovering quickly so he didn't drop you while you snickered into his shoulder
“Bug boy can't handle a little cold?” You teased and if Peters face wasn’t red before it was beet now as he huffed with a roll of his eyes playfully
“Spiders die in the fall Y/n” He gasped playfully in mock offense and you could hear the smile in his voice without looking directly at him and you hummed in response playing with the loose thread of his sweater curled it around pinky before pulling downward for it to unravel in a loose spiral as you repeated the process
“I have to go dress shopping for your funeral, get one of those big church hats” You teased and the pale boy was gasping again with more seriousness to his tone
“Not the hat, im putting in my will that no one is allowed to wear obnoxious hats at my funeral it's a disrespect” Peter said matter-of-factly as holding back laughter in his throat occasionally pausing to get get his sentence out before he could turn into a laughing mess
“I'll be at the door with a basket snatching hats” You stated seriously before a second passed and you were both falling into a laughing fit that’s blended into the rustling trees outside the sound slipping through the open window seal
While you both settled after a moment you went to stand to go back to your work but Peter had grabbed onto the back of you he shirt In protest before you could get far looking at you with a pout
“We’ve been working for two hours we deserve a break, come on.” With a small huff you nodded before returning to your original position before letting a yawn take over your body resting your head on Peter’s shoulder as he swung you both side to side and soon he felt you lean into him a little more and listened into your heartbeat get a little slower
The vigilante couldn’t tell how much had passed but the sun was just setting when he had last check and now stars were in the sky he found a rhythm in your fanning breath against his neck
Peters attention shifted to his opening door rushing to shush his aunt with a finger to his lips and wide eyes which she visibly cringed at while nodding
“Just letting you know that I’m getting started on dinner and I just wanted to know if they were staying” She whispered apron secure around her frame and hair up on the back of her neck in a bun
“I should probably get them home curfew is soon” He whispered in response
“You know you’re a really good partner Peter” May whispered and before the boy could respond she was out of the room with the gentle shutting of the door following after her
“A good partner huh?” You mumbled tiredly and once again Peter was a red as he’d ever been
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©2023 thewriterg spooktober do not copy, translate, or modify.
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soulscryer · 2 months
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I get really sore bones in the winter months and I was wondering if you'd write TASM!Peter helping reader through it? Just a little comfort. Thank you. ❤❤
tasm!Peter Parker x gn!reader ༊ 1.4k
i get achy too, lovely. i hope this is comforting enough for you <3
It was difficult not to feel a little bit silly being in your twenties and seeing people in their fifties with better mobility than you. It sucked more to see people your age going out to clubs and parties, dancing without having to worry about how they'll get out of bed in the morning.
But then you weren't sure whether you wanted to go to parties or if you wanted to go because you couldn’t.
Peter had posed the question often while comforting you when you would see videos of people doing things you never would be able to do. Long bike-rides. Hikes through stunning scenery. Dancing. Getting dressed up and letting loose, the only consequence being due to how much alcohol was consumed.
But with every step the arch of your foot burned, your knee grinded, and your hip popped. You could already feel the beginning ache of it spreading up your back.
Your hand held tight to the bannister as you climbed the stairs to your floor, wishing that the landlord would get the elevator fixed. It was no surprise almost everyone in the building was young and able-bodied.
It was the same reason Peter insisted on finding you both a new place to live. He hated knowing that even leaving the apartment caused you pain. And that some of the residents were rude and would jostle into you when you passed them on the stairs, hurrying while you took a slower pace.
“Hey, baby,” Peter calls when you open the front door. “I was just about to come get you.”
His voice comes from the kitchen. Ordinarily, you’d toe your shoes off before going to find him but today you just can’t. The prospect of balancing on one foot to free the other sends a phantom pain through your leg so you don’t even try.
“Knew you wouldn’t get a taxi, figured I’d at least walk with you- oh, angel, is it bad?” His rambling comes to a halt when he sees you in the kitchen doorway, your bag slung over one drooping shoulder while you all but curled in on yourself.
He assesses the utterly miserable countenance on your face. Your lips were pressed together firmly and your eyebrows held an unbearable tension he wanted to smooth away with his thumb.
But at least he was there. His presence at least sparked a small feeling of warmth in your chest to combat the uneasy breaths breaking free.
“How was your day?” you ask bravely, looking him over.
“It was fine,” Peter dismisses. “How was yours? Do you want to sit down?”
He doesn’t give you a chance to answer as he moves forward, taking your elbow lightly to guide you out of the kitchen and towards the couch. He doesn’t let go until you’re sat on the cushions, moving to grab a cushion to shove between the arch of your back and the couch.
“My day was fine,” you murmur, leaning forward to make it easier to shove the cushion into the gap. “Quiet.”
Peter hums. “That’s good, we like quiet days.”
“Yeah,” you agree. “How was May?”
“She’s good, she missed you,” he tells you honestly, crouching down to be by your feet. As he talks he works on pulling off your shoes, holding your ankle steady in one hand when you wince. “Made us some soup and told me to make sure we both wrap up. It’s supposed to get a little colder soon.”
Suppressing a groan at the news you tilt your head to the side to watch him better. Soft brown curls fall across and around his face, haloing him perfectly. His hands are gentle yet sturdy where they hold you.
“These socks aren’t nearly warm enough,” he remarks, eyeing first the old pair you’re wearing that have a hole near the heel and then you.
“Sorry. They were the first ones I grabbed.”
Peter shoves his thumb under the hem of your jeans, thumbing at the skin above the cuff of your sock. You can’t help it when goosebumps break out along your skin at the contact, nor when you instinctively relax into his touch.
“I’ll wear warmer ones tomorrow,” you promise.
His eyes find yours and lock on them like a vice. “No, I’ll call out sick for you. You’re in too much pain.”
“I’ll be fine in the morning.”
Peter is kind enough to offer you a smile. “In the morning you’ll be achy and after a day on your feet, you’ll be in agony. You can stay home and recuperate for at least a day.”
You baulk at the ‘at least’ and Peter grins, leaning forward to press a kiss to your covered knee.
“Do you want a drink?” He asks, letting go of you to stand.
“Coffee?”
As he disappears into the kitchen again you can hear him opening a box. The one with the tea bags. Maybe it was hopeful to ask for coffee when you know you’ll need all the rest you can get tonight and caffeine would only interfere with that. Peter knows it too.
You smile when the scent of honey drifts through the apartment.
“Do you want a hot water bottle, angel?”
A cupboard door clangs as it’s opened and groans again as it's shut. If you could you would lean into the back of the couch to spot him in the hallway.
“It won’t help much,” you say, pressing your hands between your thighs in hopes of warming them and soothing the ache in your knuckles.
“Something is better than nothing,” Peter only says.
You lay your head back against the couch as much as you can without upsetting your posture while you listen to him rummaging about in the kitchen. Cups clink together and you can hear Peter pouring water into the hot water bottle, emptying it, before filling it again with hot water.
And despite it all, he’s fairly quiet in his movements.
It gives you time to settle into your bones. To take stock of all the different parts of you that scream out in hurt—to separate their loud cries into individual limbs.
“What time do you need to leave?” You ask quietly when Peter comes back into the living room, juggling two cups of tea and the hot water bottle under one arm.
He glances at you as he sets the cups on the coffee table. “I’m not going tonight,” he tells you.
“But who’s going to take care of the city?”
“The cops can try to earn their paychecks for one night. I have more important things to attend to.”
It’s hard not to fluster at his words. Harder when he throws you a saccharine smile.
“If I sit with you do you want to cuddle?” Peter asks, lowering himself slowly onto the other end of the couch. He’s put the TV remote on the arm of the couch at his back.
You study him more than you need to, having known the answer before he finished speaking. “Just give me a second,” you murmur.
He gives you more than a second. He's patient while you prepare yourself to move your body. Uncomplaining when you move slowly towards him until your torso slots over his, face in the crook between his neck and shoulder. Peter does the work to tangle your legs together.
A soft sigh drifts past your lips when he lifts your shirt to place the hot water bottle against your lower back. One hand remains to pressure it down into you.
“Good?” Peter breathes a laugh and you can tell he’s being careful to stay as still as he can.
“I love you,” you murmur, lips brushing against the side of his neck.
“Me or the water bottle?”
Your lips part to reveal your teeth in the first grin you’ve been able to muster all day. “Both. But you more.”
Peter’s free hand smooths over your hair as some show he’s put on the TV plays faintly in the background.
“Don’t fight sleep,” he instructs when your eyes flutter shut and you fight to open them again. “I’ll wake you before the tea gets cold, and then we can have a hot bath.”
“You’ll sit in there with me?”
“You won’t have to do a thing.”
You think you murmur something like a ‘m’kay’ but it's hard to tell with the fog that presses forward over your mind, dragging you under. All you can feel is warmth radiating out of the small of your back, Peter’s hand smoothing over every inch of you it can reach, and his lips in your hair.
He must be telling you something. You hope it's something lovely, and knowing him it’s more than that.
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sparklingsin · 1 year
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could i request a netflix and chill for peter with the prompt delay? maybe he’s going on patrol? 😏
-cutetomholland <3
delay
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— peter x gn!reader | blurb, smut 18+ MDNI | @cutetomholland behold, god tier prompt, SLIGHTLY pervy!reader and mediocre writing
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Peter stepping out of the shower is a mesmerizing scene; something straight out of a soft-core erotica.
A crisp, white towel, feather soft, sits snugly around his waist— a corner tucked right into his Adonis belt to hold it together. He's wet, very much so, only half dried and radiant. Freshly beefed from his morning workout, and as he runs his nimble fingers through his shampoed hair, you feel your eyes glaze over, jaw go slack.
Peter is mostly busy with Avenger duties these days and the little free time he gets, he spends with you, in your arms. Of course, this time is hardly enough— an eternity would fall short— and his dazzling, sun-kissed skin only makes everything harder.
A sheen of water encases the freckles dotting his skin, the tiny droplets pebbling like little shingles of glitter reflecting the sunlight. As he turns towards his wardrobe, shoulder muscles rippling, droplets from his drenched hair slide down his back triggering a twitch of your tongue and somewhere down south.
He pulls on a pair of boxers under his towel, but gets it on without much struggle. Some, wicked part of you wishes he'd have turned around to give you a little show. Oh, well. You watch, captivated, as he pulls his Spiderman suit from the depths of one of the shelves. He begins to pull on the suit; stepping into the spandex and pulls it right upto his waist.
Maybe it's the straining biceps that get you as he slides one arm into one sleeve, or maybe it's the perfect curvature of his butt stretching the red and blue spandex, but before you know it, you're leaping towards him, hands turning him around to face you on their own accord.
"Babe - wha-," comes his surprised squeak as you press a heated kiss onto his lips, pushing him up against the wardrobe with your weight.
He tastes like mint and warmth— fucking heavenly— and the smell of fresh soap lingering around him only riles you further.
Peter sags against you, melting into the kiss. He's not one to shy away from surprises, but then soon, too soon, he's wrenching himself away from you, as every fibre of your being screams for more.
"Babe... I have to get to work," he says, a pout gracing his plush lips but his voice comes out throaty.
"It's been a week since I last saw you," you grumble, pushing closer still. There's an intentional whine in your voice, a calculated pucker that might be Peter's fatal weakness.
Peter's eyes widen, the pit of black in his baby browns darkening.
"Don't," he reprimands, but you grin cheekily, biting your lip and trailing your finger across the skin above where the suit hangs around his waist.
"You're insatiable," he mutters, shaking his head. But there's a slight blush blooming across his cheeks and you know you can win this. You deploy your second attack. You let your hands wander, thumbs trailing over his abs and up his front.
"I miss you. There's a difference," you shoot back.
"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to," he mumbles and moves to push you away again.
You don't budge.
"Y/N, seriously," he says, somewhat sternly, "I will have to use force."
There's a slight tremor to his voice, like he's fighting himself. Good.
You tilt your head to the side and pout exaggeratedly. "Oh baby, please. Please use force," you murmur, tugging his arm out from the sleeve of the suit and putting it around your waist. You push up against his chest.
The red across Peter's cheeks darkens.
"You're making this so hard," he mumbles, as you move up to kiss his chin, gently at first and then suck slowly. A third attack.
"Believe me, I'm trying to make a lot of things hard," you whisper, kissing up the length of his jaw and towards his ear. You dart your tongue out to lick the shell, a ghost touch at best, as your other hand dips into his suit and brushes against the base of his cock.
The final offense.
Peter lets out a strangled moan at that, his fingers digging into your back. His grip on your other arm loosens, and he angles all of his body towards you. His breathing deepens.
You know you've got him.
"I just wanted to show up at the HQ, before patrol, on time for once," he grumbles as you drag him towards the bed and push him gently onto it.
He plops onto it with a little oomph, the drying curls of his hair bouncing. You smile at his genuinity, before climbing into his lap.
Ah, home.
Victory.
"Don't worry," you muse, lip curling, as Peter settles back onto the bed.
"I'll make your sacrifice worth it."
valentine's day celebration
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valtism · 9 months
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tormentor ´ˎ˗
more parker. masterlist. <<< coming soon!!!
paring! teasing!peter parker x gn!reader w/c! 0.4k summary! peter is an annoying tease, reader is a fumbling mess warnings! suggestive? it's just a lot of teasing. also a mediocre ending i'm tired a/n! first blurb in a while. it's completely built off the gif lol
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"Oh, baby," his words danced along your skin. "Why so coy?" A devilish smirk took over Peter's features, him knowing damn well how badly he had you wrapped around his finger. His hands tiptoed up your shoulder before falling back down to your wrist in an unbearable loop.
You opened your lips, trying to speak, shaken breaths being the only sound echoing through the room. "Peter," you breathed, tightness racking through your body. Your body tensed at the sight of him resting his forehead on your shoulder. His breath trickles down your clavicle as he smirks knowingly.
"Yes, darling?" The words roll off his tongue like an oath, embellishing themselves into your neck. Your hands frantically reach for his wrists as they shift to your ribs, trying to torture you further. You close your eyes while wishing for the teasing to stop. Peter lifts his head off your shoulder, most definitely sporting a ragging grin. His lips grazed your cheekbone as your assumption was aggravatingly proven correct. Soft kisses lay below your eyes, the nervousness slowly washing off your body. "Baby," he whispers, trailing his kisses down to your lips.
Your eyes slowly flutter open, avoiding his eager gaze. He rests his forehead against yours while grinning like a child. Peter's hair was messy, long, and thick, nearly swallowing his eyebrows as it crowded his forehead. Your hands drifted to his scalp before you could stop it. Your eyes earned the sight of his rosy cheeks and giddy grin when they fell to his. "I hate when you toy with me." A smile slips onto your face, ultimately exposing your childish lie. His grin only grows wider as his arms sneak around your waist and pull you flush against him.
A giggle slinks its way out of you, pleasing Peter. "Now, y'know that isn't true," he whispers through hushed kisses along your jaw. You smile softly while wrapping your arms around his neck. "It could be, you heckler." You rest your head into the nook of Peter's neck, which unfortunately tore his lips from your mandible. A low chuckle rumbles throughout his body, the vibration buzzing against your cheek.
"A heckler? I'm a heckler?" His words are broken by laughter as he burrows his face into your hair. You can't help but gleam. "Definitely. You're at least my tormentor." Peter shook his head, ruffling your hair in return. He was definitely something of a tormentor.
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verybadatwriting · 1 month
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Just a Little Stab Wound
Summary: Reader, a vigilante, is injured and goes to Peter for help.
Warnings: injuries, blood loss
Notes: I experimented a little, and wrote this on paper for the first draft. I think I like it.
Gn!reader
Word count: 1,141
He was just trying to study for a chem test when his phone buzzed. At first he ignored it. After two more buzzes, he finally glanced down at the notifications, and saw they were from you. He smiled before reading them.
Need you
Pete
i’m hurt. on way. be ready.
He hurriedly replied,
how hurt?
u there?
Y/n??
When it was clear he wasn’t going to get a fast reply, he went about gathering a whole bunch of first aid stuff.
“Pete?” He heard a tired but authoritative voice. Crap. He’d thought Aunt May was asleep.
“What’re you doing?” She asked, both bemused and amused.
“Science homework?” He said, wishing it had sounded less like a question. Aunt May did not look like she was buying it, but instead of challenging the answer she sighed and reminded him to clean up once he’d finished “Whatever it is you’re really up to.”
Peter nodded itching to go prepare his room. He grabbed a heavy blanket from the bottom bunk and laid it on his floor. He tossed a pillow on top, and made sure that the first aid boxes were close at hand. This next part he always hated. The waiting was excruciating. Never knowing if you were only a moment away, or if you had bled out in some grimey back alley.
You were a vigilante, like he used to be, before he joined the Avengers. You though, you did not have the favor of law enforcement, since some (okay, much) of your activities weren't exactly legal. Peter met you while you were both stopping a robbery. Both of you had a fun time, probably due to the fact that you had the same sense of humor. Just before the cops arrived, you and Peter fled to a nearby rooftop. 
All that said, you and Peter had become friends, and then something more. You’d been to his home before, usually just to hang out, but also if you were injured he’s who you’d head to.
For the most part, Peter was used to it. He appreciated having someone his age who really understood the weight that came with having superpowers. If talking to you came at the price of occasionally patching you up, he’d happily help you out.
Finally, after what felt like hours, but was really only ten or so minutes, you landed on the fire escape and knocked on his window. You smiled when he looked up and let you in. As he got closer, he saw it was more like a pained grimace.
“Oh my God,” Peter whispered, eyes drifting to your abdomen, which was painted red with your blood. You held your hand against it, but the blood still leaked out. 
“Hey Pete,” You said, gasping through the pain before promptly tumbling through the window and into his arms.
Peter gingerly lifted you over to the blanket and set you down. You held pressure on the wound as you lay there, splayed out on the floor. Peter was readying a wad of gauze bandaging when out of the corner of his eye he saw yours start to drift closed.
“Hey!” He said. “You need to keep your eyes open, okay?” He asked. Reluctantly, you complied.
“You’ve got pretty eyes,” You murmured. 
“Thanks,” Peter smiled, not taking his “pretty” eyes off the gash across your body as he continued bandaging.
“Keep talking, love,” He prompted you.
“M’kay,” You hummed. “Just for you, pretty boy.”
At this, Peter’s cheeks flushed and he glanced at you, worry filling his eyes.
“You must be delusional from blood loss.”
“Nuh uh!” You protested as he turned back to work. “I’m just incredibly lucky and got you.”
A few minutes later, Peter had you all patched up. Then he helped you sit up, a rather painful process. Your shirt was filthy so he helped you out of it and upon seeing how much blood and grime covered your skin, he retrieved a basin and rag to gently wash the filth away. After he was done, you put on one of his t-shirts.
“It’s comfy,” you said.
“Looks good on you,” He replied.
After a moment, you looked up at him, truly taking in the worry lacing each and every one of his features.
“Thank you,” you finally, quietly said.
“Of course,” he replied.
“What’d I do to deserve you?” You asked, leaning your forehead onto his shoulder. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, but he stayed careful not to hurt you. 
“You’re in no shape to even think about going home,” Peter said. “So you might as well spend the night.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
He gently scooped you up and somehow managed to climb up his bed’s adder. He set you down on your side, facing away from the wall, and tucked you in. He climbed back down, and started cleaning up while you drifted off to sleep. 
You later felt him slip into bed behind you. It was comforting, having his chest against your back. You nestled into his arms and stayed like that the rest of the night.
Peter woke up first. He didn’t dare move a muscle. From how peaceful you looked right now, nobody ever would have guessed that you’d come awfully close to death just a few hours ago. 
He heard his aunt get up and start making breakfast. Her footsteps slowly came down the hall to his room. Hastily, he covered your face with the blanket.
“Hey, Peter,” Aunt May called as she entered the room. “Do you want eggs? I’m making some.” 
“Sure! Thanks!” He said, internally cringing at his voice, which sounded way too cheery. For one wonderful second, Peter thought she was going to leave. Then, her eyebrows shrunk together as she noticed the suspiciously human shaped lump in her nephew’s bed.
“Uh,” she started, “Who’s that?”
“Promise you won’t get mad?” He asked after a moment. She raised an eyebrow in response.
“Uhm, Aunt May,” Peter said, “This is my partner. They’ve got superpowers, like me, and they don’t really want other people to know who they are. Last night they got hurt, like really hurt, and they came to me. Please don’t be mad at them, they didn’t have anywhere else to go.” 
His aunt just stood there, this stressful moment stretching on forever. Finally, someone broke the silence.
“I’s okay, Peter,” you said, pushing the blanket away from your face. “Hi Ms. Parker. I’m Y/n.” Your groggy voice wavered slightly, as if afraid of what she might say. Your face, soft from sleep, made Peter fall in love with you all over again. Seeing the way Peter looked at you, combined with your honesty and desperation, Aunt May seemed to relax.
“Nice to meet you, Y/n,” she said. “Would you care to join us for breakfast?”
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rowniebow · 10 months
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Fic where Peter and reader are already dating and Peter is distant because of his obvious job which leaves reader hurt and angry and starts becoming distant and detached with Peter which causes Peter to get mad and then they fight and peter blurts out “are you cheating on me?” Which causes reader to get furious and start yelling which catches peter off guard and reader leaves, can take the story where you want past this. sorry if this is long and confusing or doesn’t make sense (Tom or andrews pete but you can do Tom if it really matters) ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥
it can be okay | tom!peter parker x gn!reader
pairings: tom!peter parker x gn!reader
cw: littol bit o angst but not much
word count: 3.4k+
an: went with tom's because i've yet to write abt his peter but i feel like he was left with so much turmoil after no way home, his peter fits well with this prompt...... ANYWAY thank you so much for requesting and i apologize for my absence, esp if u were waiting around for this ! i appreciate you, please stay safe! sry 4 long an
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you felt an arm wrap around your waist. warmth and pressure spread over your back. you flipped around to wrap your own arms around the man that had climbed into bed with you.
"sorry," his breath found its way to your ear and pulled the hair on your spine up. his quiet whisper held gravel in the smooth concrete of his voice. "did i wake you up?"
"yeah, i'm glad."
"oh, good. i'm glad i woke you, too. get more time to hear your voice."
you hummed, sleep fighting your coherent words.
"how was your day?"
"it was fine. i missed you for our movie night."
petter stuttered out several different sounds, none of them making any real words.
your eyebrows twitched at his struggle.
"i-i'm so sorry, sweetheart, i completely forgot. i-i-i-i got so caught up with homework i didn't even think... it's that stupid biology class! i always have so much reading to do for it.
"yeah, it's okay," you moved closer to him, desperate for as much of his warmth as possible. "school is more important than movies! let me know next time, though."
"of course," he kissed the top of your head. he lingered with an exaggerated 'mwah'. "i'm so sorry, sweetheart."
you hummed and slurred out a reassurance.
"go back to sleep now, sweets."
and it was okay.
⭒⭒
everything was so much louder when he wasn’t around.
the fridge’s song sung by instruments of kinetic energy hummed at the back of your head. the calm air against the glass window was practically visible with how loud it was. the dust that settled on the marble kitchen countertops and sunk it’s way into the fabric of your couch crunched and stretched the fibers of the masses. you couldn’t seem to turn the television up much higher than seven (you hoped the number might bring you luck to bring the man home).
sure, he’s missed nights that were supposed to be set aside for you two and his favorite star wars films. yes, you’ve noticed how he’s missed more than a few fairly important tests for his classes, causing him to fail (he was beginning to fall fairly far behind in his degree, but you weren’t going to comment on that. not yet, anyway).
but, he’d yet to miss out on a date.
he had yet to leave you waiting at your favorite shitty twenty-four hour diner in the middle of new york that was a forty minute walk from your apartment.
you wouldn’t deny to anyone other than peter that it bothered you a bit. your lip was raw and crumbs from a sad, newly empty plate of fries dusted your nicest clothes that you had put on just for him. your eyes wore heavy bags from how late you stayed up in hope that maybe he was just running a bit late.
however, when a bit late had become two in the morning, you gave up hope on that.
you looked outside at the nearly visible air and listened to the chill of the early morning crack at your window after you arrived back at your empty apartment at nearly three in the morning. you listened to the distant wind against the quickly moving vehicles. you listened to the retreating caw from a bird that didn’t sound like any you’d heard before. you listened to the dust float through the air and the television hum despite it being off. you listened to the deafening silence of the room and your mind.
cold three in the morning apartment air hit the back of your throat as you brought as much of the toxic oxygen into your lungs as you possibly could, and released it to be filtered and given to some other poor abandoned soul.
it was okay.
you understood his forgetful habits. you understood why he slept in and took so many naps. he has a lot on his plate. juggling school, and work, and the family issues that he’s mentioned from time to time.
it is okay.
maybe next time.
⭒⭒⭒
waking up alone after a warm night with peter seemed to hurt more than the missing arrangements.
the apartment's chill leaked under the blankets and burned your skin until you awoke. the emptiness of the space next to you in your bed was a sad physical representation of the emptiness in your gut.
the hole in your stomach that you awake with absorbs all the cereal you eat and leaves you feeling hungry for the rest of the day. it absorbs your joy and hope. it absorbs the warmth in your body (and especially in your smile).
your days are filled with sighs when you wake up with the hole of peter. with those deep exhales, you hope to breath out whatever haunts your stomach.
it sticks with you until the end of the day when you fall asleep alone. peter will climb in after you in the depths of the night and the ocean of your sheets. he'll whisper sweet nothings into your ear. he'll apologize if need be. he'll pepper you with kisses and hold you close.
and you'll be okay.
then he'll do it all over again.
⭒⭒⭒⭒
it just so happened to be next time.
he promised to make the last time up to you and promised to see you the next friday night for dinner.
so there you sat, leg bouncing under the table at a restaurant that was all too fancy for your taste but peter had insisted on.
you were on your third glass of an odd color wine (that really didn’t even taste good) and you were nearing the second hour of waiting.
“would you like to order yet, sir?” the waiter asked for the fifth time that night.
perhaps it was the alcohol that brought a sting to your eyes when you checked the time on your phone. but you smiled and shook your head and asked for the check instead.
looking at the number on the check, you nearly sobbed at how much three glasses of wine cost you. but you sighed and gave an eighty percent tip anyway as reparations for the waiter having to pity you all night. you almost sobbed, again, when you could hear a couple that had gotten there after you comment to one another about how long you’d been there.
cheeks warm with embarrassment, you made your way back to your apartment. the chill of the late night spring mildly helped cool you down.
the pity in the waiter's eyes and the couple's comments haunted you all the way home. only when you undressed into your sleep clothes and climbed under the covers could you manage to excuse peter's actions.
peter must have simply gotten caught up in homework. he must have just fallen asleep.
it's okay.
perhaps he got the days mixed up and forgot it was friday. or he got his hours for work wrong and he ended up having to work.
it is okay.
⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒
you truly didn’t mean to lean away from his kiss when peter tried to wish you goodbye that evening.
but you did.
you leaned away as if it were a stranger that was trying to kiss you. you truly didn’t mean to. you also knew that you truly felt as though it was a stranger trying to kiss you, though.
you knew it hurt him. quite honestly it hurt you, too. whether it was the pain in his features that hurt you or the fact that you felt that way.
either way, your actions hurt the both of you, and you knew you should apologize. you nearly did right then and there.
"are you cheating on me?" the quiet whispers of words that he choked out hit you like lightning. the frown in his lips and the way he avoided your eyes made your heart crack before you could process the words he spoke. his broken voice distracted you from the content it delivered.
you felt your eyebrows pull together at first. you felt the apology creep in your throat and nearly spill out.
his hurt was a new language for you to learn. it forced you to think over each word and remember the meaning of it similar to how you did in spanish class in high school.
and as the syllables set in and your brain wrapped itself through the vowels and consonants, you scoffed. maybe even laughed.
did he really just say that? did he truly feel like he had the nerve to say that?
"am i cheating on you?" a glare made itself comfortable in your features.
it's not okay.
"...no?" peter’s stuttered, hesitant disagreement made his regret in his words clear. but how could you just brush over his accusation?
"peter parker, i should be asking you that question."
"wha-what do you mean?"
"you're the one who's hardly fucking here. you’re the one that’s left me waiting until the morning for you to come around. you’re the one who ‘forgets’ anytime we agree to hang out.”
it is not okay.
“i-i didn’t-,”
“‘you didn’t’ what? remember? show up?”
his silence was as loud as it is when he’s gone.
“where are you all day, peter?”
so
“where are you at night?”
fucking
“where are you right now. are you even here?”
loud.
“get out.”
“what? no - no, please, y/n, you gotta trust me on this.”
nothing is okay.
“i trusted you to be here!”
“i know, and i’m so sorry, but - ah - i can’t tell you. you just-just gotta trust me!”
“no, peter!”
“please, i’ll make it up to you, i swear!”
“you’ve had plenty of chances for that.”
“c’mon, y/n,”
“no! even if you’re not cheating on me, you obviously don’t have time for me!”
“i’ll make time for you,”
“you really should have already been doing that.”
“i’ll make more time for you!”
“you don’t get more time in a day, and you’re not getting anymore from me, parker. christ- are you going to leave?"
"no! y/n, please, let me make this right, i-i can't lose you, too."
"fuck. i will leave then, jesus!"
"what?"
you slipped your shoes on, ignoring his words.
peter called your name as you opened the door.
"goodnight, peter."
⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒
you stayed at your parents house for a couple nights then came back to your empty apartment. the silence wasn't as loud as it normally was, but the intensity of the emptiness, both in the apartment and in the pit of your stomach, made up for the lack of overbearing volume.
you went about your life for two whole weeks with that emptiness haunting you. not a word from peter. about anything.
you went to your classes, studied in your room, went to work, came back and went to sleep: the college dream.
you hardly even noticed two weeks had passed with the way you had just been floating through the days.
with your mind blank without the joy and excitement of peter parker in your life, you filled it with the words from your humanities textbook to prepare for a final.
the jiggling of your apartment doorknob cut through the sound of the words in your head. your eyes immediately went wide. the air became thick as you heard the door squeak open slowly but surely.
your breath was stuck in your throat, but you found it in you to pick up your heavy textbook to toss if you needed.
you listened to the door creek shut and click closed.
perhaps someone just mistook your apartment for their own? maybe a new neighbor who's mixing it up? you're sure it's just a simple mistake and not some horrible, evil, scary, stronger-than-you criminal who wants to steal the little bits of items you have. certainly they won't murder you brutally, or kidnap you and sell you.
certainly not, right?
your mind ran wild with what-if's and dangers of the situation. what else was there to do in the face of danger, though? hide under your blankets and hope they don't come in?
no, you'd at least like to look death in the face before you go.
that didn't stop your racing heart and shaking hands, of course.
so you crept around your door frame and down the small hall that lead to your tiny living room. you could hear the person rattling through your pots and pans.
you stood behind the corner, telling yourself it'd be fine.
you can do it. just go and ask what's going on. you're sure this is probably just some huge mix up.
"hah!" you huffed as you turn the corner and toss the heavy book at the person.
they immediately turn around and catch the flying pages. your heart drops to your stomach. your only weapon failed.
"y/n? i didn't know you were home!"
your heart manages to repair itself in your chest as the voice and face process in your mind. "peter?" you practically shriek. "what are you doing here?" a breath (that you were fully aware you had been holding) left your lungs, your hands finding their way to cover your face from the stress.
"i-i-i didn't know you'd be home, i'm sorry,"
"so you sneak into my apartment when i'm not home?" the glare you sent him reminded him how snappy you get when you're upset.
"no, no, no, no, no-!"
your questioning glare had him pause his denial.
"well, yes,"
you groaned.
"but listen!"
"i don't want to listen to you when you just broke into my house, peter!"
"well, the door was open-,"
another groan.
"okay, yeah, i can...see...that..."
"leave, peter!"
"wait, wait, wait! okay, listen," he took a deep breath. "i can explain myself-,"
"which part: when you forgot about me constantly or when you broke into my house?"
"all of it! i can explain and i just want you to know that i haven't been telling you for your own safety."
"what the fuck are you talking about?"
"just-just come with me."
"where?"
"it's a surprise!" his apologetic smile willed you to trust him.
you stared at him. his waves framed his face - his hair seemed to grow a lot in the last two weeks. his eyes were a whirlpool that sucked you in.
"jesus, peter." you shook your head, but found some shoes and a jacket to slip on anyway. the bright smile on peter's face made you want to forget about everything.
you followed him down the stairs to the quiet, three in the morning college town streets on a tuesday.
"how far away is it?" you asked. your eyes followed a plane as it blinked through the sky.
"kind of far," he moved in front of you to block your path. "but," he sung his vowel. "i know a quicker way to get there!"
"do we need to take the subway-?" you looked around, only for peter to wrap an arm around your waist. "what-?"
"it's going to be a little scary but you gotta trust me."
"what are you doing, pete?"
"you gotta hold on okay?" he guided your arms around his neck. "trust me, okay?" his sweet enchanting smile encouraged you to trust him despite everything. that didn't stop the groove between your brows from forming, though.
"what-?"
and you were in the air. screaming, obviously. you could hear his reassurance and apologies, willing you to keep holding on.
after several minutes of being in the air and coming to the consensus that you wouldn't fall even if you tried with peter's death grip on you, you took a glance around at your setting.
the street was far below you. cars and lights from down below smiled up and laughed at your fear. apartments on the thirtieth floors were eye level but passed so fast that you couldn't see who resided in them.
"isn't it nice?" peter whispered. he was your only lifeline; the only thing keeping you from falling to your death. "it's so peaceful up here." his quiet words didn't calm your racing heart or sooth your stressed features, but it brought you to stay present until your feet hit the solid ground again.
your legs shook you until your knees met the surface you stood on.
"sorry-,"
"what was that, parker?" you sparse breath made your voice come out as merely a squeak but peter knew all too well that you would be screaming at the top of your lungs if you could.
"it- well- i- uhm," the wind helped you push yourself off of your knees and back to sitting like a normal person rather than someone who thought their feet wouldn't ever touch the ground again. "i'm not really sure how to say this i-i-,"
"peter, i swear to god-,"
"i'm spider-man!" you looked up at his avoiding eyes that were as wide as yours. as if he couldn't believe he actually said that.
"excuse me?" you said after several moments of silence passed.
"i-i'm spider-man," his quiet voice was nearly drowned out by the blowing wind.
you laughed.
his eye brows came together in frustration. "why are you laughing?"
"you're not spider-man."
"i just swung us to the top of central park tower and you're going to deny that i'm spider-man?"
your smile slowly faded as you noticed where you were. that he was right. you were among the stars, the moon within inches of your fingers. the street glowed up at you, laughing once more. the usual honking screams from the cars could not be heard from how high you were. all you could hear was the growl of the wind and peter's shy voice.
"oh my god,"
"no-no, don't freak out!"
"i'm not freaking out, i never freak out. you're just spider-man and that's a thing and we're on top of the central park tower and i could totally fall right now but i'm not freaking out."
you were freaking out.
"doesn't spider-man have webs or something?"
peter stuck out his hand, and a white web came tumbling out after your hand that rested on the ground you still sat on. he tugged at the string that stuck itself to your hand and pulled you up with it. you stumbled into him, his hands steadying your shaking.
"that's insane."
"i know, and i'm so sorry. between juggling school and work and this, it's really difficult to keep track of everything. this doesn't have a schedule and gets in the way of you a lot more than i'd like it to."
"i-i guess i get why you didn't tell me."
a breath left through peter's lips. "i-i put together this as an apology, though." he motioned behind you to yet another thing you didn't notice throughout the stress of it all.
a blanket laid out with food from your favorite take out place scattered all over it. small electric candles flickered around the setting providing as the only light that wasn't coming from the city down below along with his laptop that was glowing and set up to browse through netflix for something to watch.
"i'm really sorry. i'm sorry i'm never there. i'm sorry it's taken me so long to see you again. i'm most of all sorry that i can't change it."
your eyes met his once again.
"if how i am is too much for you, i completely understand. you deserve someone who will treat you as good as you deserve and who will show up. but i want you to know that i miss you, and love you, and i will keep trying so hard to show up."
"you love me?"
"i-i-," peter's sure eyes suddenly fell to the floor and his hands found the back of his neck. "i mean, yeah," he stuttered. "but like it's okay, like, i get it, you know? i don't-,"
all the fears of being at the top of the central park tower and dating spider-man and what it means to date spider-man left you mind. all you could think about was how much you really did love peter despite his absent habits. maybe even more so now that you knew this huge secret and what that secret told about him as a person.
so you kissed him.
the heavenly feeling of his lips was something you didn't know you missed as much as you did. as soon as your lips met, tears pricked themselves at your eyes but you refused to let them fall.
you were okay.
peter was okay.
you were both okay.
it was all okay.
⭒ taglist ⭒
@fadedver @1ischai @djmalik52 @garlicforthewin @cryinked @armand0alg0 @softboi14
please dm me if you would like to be taken off of the taglist
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Text
Peter, placing his phone on your desk: Ok y/n, are you ready?
Y/N: Ready!
Peter: Ok then 3, 2, 1-
Peter, in a high pitched voice: But I'm always on your left!
Y/N, with Peter's costume on: and right now you're getting on my last nerve, switch!
Tony, looking at the two of you from afar while sipping his coffee: *sighs* today's kids...
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so-ithinkicandance · 10 months
Text
Andrew!Peter Parker x GN Reader General Dating Headcanons
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Andrew!Spidey is quite possibly the kindest, goofiest, and most in love man there is, and he isn't afraid to show it. He actually gives you all of his heart and soul till he understands why he loves you so much more than anything this pitiful world could ever attempt to convince him.
He hasn't always had a very positive view of himself or of who he is, but there you are. And you simply make him want to cry because you are basically the embodiment of everything the goodness, kindness, and hope he has ever attempted to discover in himself.
It comes as a shock when he reveals that he is Spider-Man, but you didn’t run or hide. He's glad he told you since he always disliked lying to you and keeping it a secret. He made a commitment to never withhold anything else from you after telling and telling you everything.
Sure, he's guarding you, but he's also afraid you might suffer harm as a result of him. In fact, it almost caused the two of you to split up earlier in the relationship since he took the blame for jeopardising your safety. You never once placed the blame on him and you were quick to forgive him, but you had to help him learn how to forgive himself. You have to tell him that you're a team and that it's alright to move on and forgive himself because he carries the weight of the world on his wide shoulders.
You are frightened the first time he carries you across New York because, in addition to thinking you will be too heavy for him to carry, you are also terrified of the idea. He reassures you, reminding you of his strength, that he can carry you and that he won't let go. You hardly open your eyes to look the entire time, clinging to him, but you make it! The entire time, he gives you comfort by assuring you that he has you and will keep you safe—and he does.
Aunt May adores you very much. She notices your kindness and can tell Peter loves you just by looking at him. You are always invited whenever she extends an invitation to Peter to visit. Peter makes fun of the fact that Aunt May prefers you to him.
Aunt May likes to share all the embarrassing tales with you and gossip with you about how Peter was as a young lad.
He is impulsive and will take you on a picnic on top of a building in the centre of the city while taking you on a swing through New York. He will visit you at work during your lunch break and drive you to a location with a nicer view than the staff area where you can eat your meal.
The two of you have so much fun together. He’s your best friend and that means that you can authentically be your silliest selves around the other without a care or without judgement. You dance around the kitchen singing your Elvis impressions full pelt, you play hide and seek in pretty much every large department store you visit because why not? There’s just so much laughter in your relationship with Peter and you adore it.
Peter isn't embarrassed to display his sensitive or helpless side to you. He's had nightmares about his parents, Uncle Ben, or the horrors of villains he's battled many times, and you're the one who comforts him by enveloping him in blankets, bringing him tea, and giving him temple kisses. You assist him in processing all of the trauma that he puts himself through.
Sometimes, particularly when he’s having those nightmares or going through a rough patch, you need to remind him to take care of himself. You’re the one who makes the meals and almost forces the plate into his hand to eat it instead of eating processed junk. You’re the one who gets in the shower with him, scrubbing the grime, dirt and blood of him, washing his hair and leaving little kisses on his collarbone. You’re the one who always packs a water bottle and snacks in his backpack for when he’s going out on patrol just so you know that he’s got something to eat and drink.
His computer background and phone background are photos of you. The one on his phone is a candid photo of you laughing that you hate but he loves because he loves that smile of yours. His computer background is a photo of the two of you at one of your family members weddings.
Peter always kind of knew that he wanted to marry you. After one and a half years of dating, Aunt May gives Peter his mother’s old engagement ring. It’s simple but beautiful and it holds a lot of meaning. Peter carries it with him, he’s not sure when he’ll ask you but he carries it with him every single day just waiting for the right moment.
Peter always know what to say to make you weak at the knees. It’s like he has a bank of the most beautiful things to say to make you giggle and blush like a teenager.
He enjoys kissing you. He kisses you on your lips, tummy, shoulder, neck, wrists, and knuckles in addition to your forehead, temple, and nose. If he had the slightest chance, he would kiss you nonstop. He simply enjoys kissing you.
He has a cocoa, coffee, and earthy scent. The chocolate is normally a snack from his backpack that you've packed, and the woodsy aroma comes from how much he enjoys being outside and learning about nature. He typically consumes coffee continuously to stay awake throughout the long evenings.
He is not reluctant to publicly declare his love for you. He never fails to hold your hand, give you a hug, or declare his love for you in the middle of the street. He would practically serenade you until you asked him to stop if it bothered you.
He’s very chill, he’s very low pressure so if you’re not feeling up to doing something, he doesn’t mind. He wants you to be comfortable so however he can help and whatever he can do to make you comfortable, he’ll do it. He doesn’t make you feel bad for it either.
Peter celebrates every single win with you no matter how big or small. He’s so proud of you and just wants you to know that so even if it’s something simple like you managed to figure out something in work or you managed to nail the recipe for those cookies that you’d been trying to perfect all week, he’ll celebrate and be so proud of you.
You are the one who gives him a massage and helps him shower after a difficult argument. You'll take care of him, tend to his injuries, and make sure he's both psychologically and physically healthy.
He makes you feel like the sexiest and most beautiful person alive. He could compliment you for hours as he looks into your eyes. He kisses you with so much passion that it makes you forget about everything. He worships you and your body, kissing you everywhere. He would spend hours making you feel good, making you orgasm over and over before he even thought about pleasuring himself. Sometimes, maybe after a hard fight, he’s rougher and more desperate, skipping the foreplay and just desperate to feel you. Most often though, he takes his time, teasing you and praising you. He makes you feel so unbelievably good, better than you ever thought you could feel.
He’s taller than you so the height difference when hugging him standing up is just *chefs kiss*. It also means that he can reach for the stuff you can’t get because you’re too short.
He has so many nicknames for you. He makes a new nickname or pet name up every day pretty much. Some are funny, some are cute and some can never hear the light of day again.
You sleep wrapped around each other, cuddled right into each other’s skin. He loves sleeping with your head on his chest, it makes him feel like he’s protecting you and keeping you safe. He also enjoys being the little spoon. He’s versatile.
You want to take his clothes, but since he's a really lean guy, he buys sweatshirts in a larger size and wears them before giving them to you. This way, the sweatshirts are not just the right size for you but also smell exactly like him. He never once criticizes you for your weight, shape, or size; in fact, he gives you compliments.
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a little some-some for christmas. happy holidays🎄 divider @firefly-graphics
peter parker x gn!reader
🎧 all i want for christmas is you / underneath the tree / last christmas
the daily bugle holiday party was rather festive. you’d think with having jameson as your boss he would be a scrounge during the holidays, but he was cracking jokes and showing family pictures to anyone interested. it was a bit freaky seeing this one eighty personality, but it was nice knowing he actually was human under that dictator exterior.
“if spider-man was to be mentioned, i bet he’ll immediately go into a ‘menace to society’ rant.” peter joked while taking sips of his eggnog, face scrunching at the splashes of alcohol.
you chuckled at the jab, “bet five dollars he’ll be his biggest fan once the alcohol grows.”
peter grinned as he leaned his shoulder into the wall to face you, “okay, but no interfering. has to come naturally from someone else or jameson himself. both lose if nothing happens by the end of the party.”
switching the cup to your other hand, you smirk up at peter as you shake hands, “you're on parker.”
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turning back to the party, thumping your feet and bopping your head to the christmas tunes, you lean into peter. “favorite christmas song?” tilting your attention on him.
his mouth screwed up in thought, eyes squinting into the distance, “probably… the classic one.” being vague in his answer.
a roll of your eyes, “yeah, that narrows it down to nothing. most of them are classics. come on, don’t hide this small thing from me. i won’t make fun of your taste.” leaning off the wall and standing directly in front of him now.
“you seem really interested in a simple answer.” quirking a busy brow. you shrug dramatically, “cause it’s super important! duh doy!”
that bubbly, boyish laugh spilled from peter with a shake of his shoulders. it was your favorite song, no matter the season. “well now i’m worried you will judge my choice.”
you waved away the simple worry, “no, no. probably just confused.” reaching a hand to his bicep and squeezing. flashing that teasing smile that gets his heart racing.
“well if it’s so important, why don’t you share first. favorite christmas song oh wise one?” moving his left hand to tuck bits of hair behind your right ear. eyes watching each other while cheeks grow warm.
a inhale through your nose, “honestly a tie between last christmas by wham! or underneath the tree by the queen kelly clarkson. would listen to them anytime of year.” eyes nervously observing peter’s pretty face.
“you next. what’s the classic christmas song peter benjamin parker loves?” the twinkling string lights added a sparkle to his warm brown eyes. you could melt into a puddle.
he then dipped his head away. peter’s gaze was focused into his draining cup, bits of curls falling to his forehead. you had to restrain yourself from pushing them back and letting your digits card from the strands.
“i- i feel my answer isn’t that important. like i celebrate hanukkah and christmas. plus! plus, they need to make songs for the other holidays. we have that animated adam sandler movie and the futurama song.” joking to avoid giving his answer, which you thought was a little worrying.
you reached out and took ahold of his hand to give a reassuring squeeze. “pete, it’s really not that big a deal. was just joking and i wouldn’t actually judge-“
“all i want for christmas is you.” peter blurted out while you talked.
if you were drinking there would’ve been a spit take, mouth and nose. blinking a few times with your mouth opening and closing, processing and trying to say something.
“my christmas song.” peter rushes to clarify. it would be a lie if you said that didn’t bother you.
“right. yeah, an awesome go to song. was- was thinking the same thing, but thought best of it.” playing off your ‘bout of sadness. “i’m- i’m gonna get a refill and snacks. what anything? wanna join?” hoping for both a yes and no.
“i’m- i’m good. i’ll- i’ll save our spot.” and with that you scurried away in the packed office towards the red table cloth housing all the refreshments. needing just a few minutes away from peter after that moment.
with a paper plate filled with some sugar cookies, homemade brownies and a few pieces of fruit, with a new cup of soda you hid yourself in a shadowed corner. eyes bouncing from person to person, observing how jennifer in editing was interacting with jonathan from the film crew- definitely a thing outside the office- you figured it’s been long enough to rejoin peter at his side.
dumping your trash and weaving through the bodies you almost bumped into one before they stopped in front of you with their hands hovering over your biceps.
“i was getting worried,” peter declared with a shakey smile. his arms dropped from the air, fingers grazing your knuckles.
“nothing to worry about peter. the green goblin doesn’t work here, just some cutthroat journalist.” brushing his panic away.
peter chuckled while rubbing a palm into his neck, “you never know. nancy’s got that deadly stare if you get on her bad side.” “and that’s why i bring her a breakfast sandwich on wednesdays.”
he nodded, “very smart,” then looked over his shoulder, “wanna move somewhere less crowded? getting a bit overheated.”
“lead the way, parker.” and then peter linked his right into your left, guiding you through the desk and towards the front of the office layout. jackie on karaoke was just a bit faint now, thankfully.
“i- i’m sorry about earlier.” peter quietly spoke. a small jut of your chin to see him a bit better, eyes watchful and gentle. “there’s nothing to be so-“
“all i want for christmas is you, that’s true. i- i just rushed to add the second part, cause i- i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or- or something. but then when you were gone for almost five minutes i knew i upset you and i never want to upset-“
“pete, peter.” setting a hand to his red sweater clad chest and taking a step closer. he had a soft doe eye happening and it softened your insides. “i wanna change my answer.”
“okay…” a pinch to the middle of his brow.
“all i want for christmas is you. my holiday classic.” speaking the title slowly and dripping in your oowey gooey emotions for the photographer standing before you.
peter’s mouth opened and then, “what?”
you had to resist the eye roll so you tried a different more complicated tactic. “last christmas i gave my heart to someone undeserving of it. so this year to save me from tears i’m giving it towards someone special.” squeezing your linked hands for emphasis.
trying to be romantic towards a smart yet oblivious guy is really hard. “peter, please tell me you understood that or i will walk away. and then i will come back to tell you straight forward.”
he was silent, you could see the gears turning behind his eyes. picking apart and understanding each word and the whole meaning. you almost wanted to just start singing the lyrics if that would help more.
“peter…” “no! no i- i got it! you- you like me too?” ending it off in a question.
a sigh with a simple smile, “yes peter. i like you too.”
“okay, awesome!” he looked like a boy who was gifted the best present. bring your joined hand up peter pressed two kisses along your knuckles then grabbed your other hand and swung them between your bodies. sugarplum fairies danced in your belly.
“do you… maybe wanna get something to eat? actual food not just sweets. or- or some other time, whenever you’re free really.” peter tripped over his words but landed upright.
you couldn’t help the airy giggle from slipping free. “asking me on a date already? are you trying to beat some new year resolutions?” shuffling closer into peter’s space.
“maybe…” his eyeline sitting over your shoulder for a moment before drifting onto your multicolored face. “would that be okay?” always the gentleman.
“more than okay.” your eyes tracing over all the details that make up peter parker before noticing something attached to the ceiling.
the surround chatter has faded and died out, just the two of you in your bubble. “hey, pete…” “yeah?” “look up.”
your eyes dropped to see peter was just staring at you with a confused look so your placed a finger under his chin and forced his head up, your own following second.
tied to a fishing string hung a fresh bundle of holly. “oh.” was all peter said then continued with, “kinda weird to have holly at a work party.”
“true, but it’s a traditional christmas plant. and we’re standing under it…” trailing off to wait for peter’s response of the situation.
“well…” bringing his head down and releasing your hand so he could slowly hold his to hover over your cheeks, “if you’re okay with keeping the tradition…”
fingers knotting into the wool of peter’s knit sweater and pushing onto the tips of your toes, “more than okay, peter.” and leaning in first to seal the confirmation.
a sigh of relief once peter cupped your cheeks and held you close. it was a small, simple kiss- one that was completely appropriate for a work setting. you could picture the scene playing in a holiday rom-com, an added kick of your feet for flair.
a quick peck after the smooch and you leaned away from peter and back on your feet. “i know a diner on fifty-eighth. wanna go?”
“lead the way, oh wise one.” and peter let you take his hand to drag him behind you as you both gathered your belongings.
“enjoy your night.” emma, one of your coworker friend, wiggled her brows in a suggestive manner and you just pushed her shoulder in annoyance.
you rejoined with peter and started to head out until you stopped short and shook his arm, “oh! oh we forgot!” “forgot wh-“
“you know, that- that spider isn’t- isn’t so b- bad.” a slurring j john jameson heard over the high notes of mariah carey.
“buy me a milkshake and we’re even.” “deal.”
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babyjackdaniels · 4 months
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clarks-letterman · 1 year
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desirable | doctor!peter parker x gn!reader
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a/n — the pictures are so mismatched but i don't have a gif and they all work separately for the fic so yeah- mishmosh pishposh motherf*ckers <3 (this is a jokey but veryyy smutty fic i wrote to get out of writers block)
summary — Infatuated by the doctor treating you, you return with feigned sickness.
words — 2.9k
warnings — SMUT! 18+, throat-fucking, blowjobs, sexy peter parker
~~~
The office was stuffy, or maybe it was your throat swelling, with a scratch that only stuck out when you tried to speak. You scheduled an appointment within an older practice run by renowned Doctor Bruce Banner, who you had little confidence in since he could hardly understand things about his own body. Not that you would discredit someone of his intelligence, but he struggled to control his body at levels of extreme emotion, and dealing with any sickness is never something calm to bear through. He prevailed on your previous visits; that was the only reason you remained slumped against the wall of the waiting room chairs, fighting congestion and an endlessly parched thirst.
After a little while, a nurse in lime green scrubs called your name, prompting you to stand, and followed her into one of the few patient rooms once she checked your height, weight, blood pressure, and temperature. On your first visit, you were surprised to learn about the scarcity of rooms, only to realize that their sizes were far more massive than what would be required for a human-sized head specialist. The bed you sat on, paper crinkling on even the most trivial shift of your body, took up only a fraction of the room it occupied. The other side of the room had a desk and a chair that faced the wall, both oversized to fit Banner's frame but made the computer, keyboard, and mouse sitting atop it look like little playthings. To the left of the bed were a sink, a few hanging otoscopes to check your ears, and some other things you didn't recognize. To your right was the door the nurse walked out of, and no less than five minutes passed before a doctor with a deeper shade of green scrubs entered.
It was a pleasant surprise to learn that your doctor would not be the Hulk himself but a younger male in hulk-green scrubs who had only recently started working for Doctor Banner. Banner was nice but not always careful, especially with his large, discolored fingers. You were happy that he wouldn't be the one to lay a hand on your throat since he could probably crush your larynx with the jerk of a sneeze. Your new doctor didn't seem as friendly as the big guy, though, seized in a look of shock—possibly embarrassment—as he laid eyes on you, then fumbled with his clipboard. It almost fell to the ground but miraculously clung to the tips of his fingers, and he caught the board. He kept his head low and buried, busying himself with your information, hushedly repeating it aloud.
The doctor's face was pale aside from the flush of ignominy, possibly from the same bug you contracted somewhere around New York, though you figured he happened to not get enough sun. Judging by how he carried himself and the awkward chipperness in his voice, you suspected the latter. Yet he filled out his scrubs rather nicely, tautly stretching over his chest and struggling to hide his bulk for someone potentially sun-appalled. It was like he chose a size down from his typical day apparel to tempt his patients, to keep them engaged with whatever boring medical jargon he was most likely to spew out after giving them a diagnosis. You had to admit, it worked.
His short, chocolate curls looked like they had been on the receiving end of many pushbacks with a shaky hand as if he was excessively nervous. He had a simple complexion, easy on the eyes with warm brown hues that challenged the depth of rich soil. His nametag coruscated in the light; black, blocky lettering printed across the laminate—Dr.Parker.
Silence loomed over the room, only backing away when you let out a few sputtered hacks from the back of your throat. A simple coughing fit to others, but it felt like a raging war broke out for the millionth time today on your sore inner muscles. That's when he looked up.
"Sorry I didn't introduce myself. Doctor Parker, and you must be . . ." he hesitated momentarily, scanning the clipboard again—was he that forgetful? His index finger followed the pages of your file before halting, and he spoke your name without his eyes leaving the inky letters. The way it rolled off his tongue felt different than how other people said it, like the set of his mouth was meant to twist and twitch with every syllable. "And a sore throat today, huh? That's gotta hurt."
"Kind of," you said, being courteous about how it hurt to swallow and that it felt like someone was constantly ramming something stiff and sharp down your throat each time you tried to eat the softest foods on the shelf. Doctor Parker moved over to the chair, taking a seat in it. You watched how the backing of the chair reached halfway up to the back of his head when he finally got comfortable in the seat, looking more like an excessively sized dog bed, significantly passing his spread legs. He took ahold of the mouse that filled out his hand—appearing to be more than a handful—and clicked open a few programs until he entered an alterable document. It was complete with information about your previous visits.
"What symptoms have you been dealing with?" he asked, hands resting on the keys underneath the monitor, his beautiful face illuminated by the blank, white screen. You told him about the troubles this illness brought but kept it brief to save your throat the pain later. After you relayed everything to him, his intent ears never missing a slurred or misspoken word, he moved on to diagnosing you.
He got out of the comically-sized chair and drew near. Cold hands met your warmed, overheated skin. "Definitely swollen," he muttered. Only a few words slipped from his mouth since he entered the room, and you hadn't even learned his first name, yet you happily listened and waited for more of his spoken thoughts. If your throat was back to normal, how he held it would have been much more evocative. Was he aware of the effect he had on his patients?
At first, his hands were gentle, like a deer carefully watching its step on an uneven meadow, but they had a growing bite as he started to press into your swollen lymph nodes. The force elicited a painful noise past your lips and a harsh "Ow."
His hands backed away immediately, retreating safely to his sides, and that's when he looked up to your face. You were sure it flushed at his worried glance and not from the sickness.
"Sorry, it's my first day on the job," he half-heartedly apologized.
"Really?" you asked skeptically. Maybe that was why you never saw Doctor Parker before now; he was new.
"No."
"Nervous?" your throat rasped.
His cracked lips stretched, hiding any anxiety he took out on them and forming a brief smile, "Yeah, uh, something like that."
The doctor refrained from putting his hands on you for the rest of the visit, asking you how the infection made you feel and what you noticed during the past few days of dealing with it. He concluded it to be tonsilitis and prescribed a healthy dose of antibiotics that would hopefully kill the infection thriving in your throat. They did their job and had you feeling better within a few days. 
From the view of your bathroom mirror, opaque-white lights cast visibility over your throat. The pain was gone, but the handsome doctor's touch never left, his pale hands turning a true translucent as you felt the ghost of them linger. You needed to go back for the resolution, but finding a reason to return would be difficult.
. . .
"Back again so soon? Guess you missed me," Doctor Parker remarked as he came through the door, realizing that you sat on the table in the same position as last time. "Still sick?"
You nodded, rebuffing words out of fear that the first one to slip out would sound unscratched by your throat, harmonious and smooth. 
"Did it get worse?" You nodded again. "Okay, huh, open up for me? Sorry, please." The doctor heard how it sounded out loud and took the opportunity to make banter with himself where you couldn't. His hand rose and followed your jaw, his thumb glossing over your chin as the rest nearly missed his touch from the last time. With your mouth open, the tip of his flashlight clicked, and out came the light pouring into the darkness. "You sure the medication didn't work? Still feels scratchy?"
You nodded—again. His hands slid down, two fingers on either side of your throat, feeling around for swelling and unwanted masses. Unfortunately, his touch didn't last long, as he pulled away with a look of certainty.
"I've seen enough. I'll call in for a prescription of antibiotics to kill that lie you're committed to."
Your voice slipped, mistakenly asking in a less husky tone, "What do you mean?"
He pushed the chair away from the desk, the tip of his toe sweeping the ground to swivel him around. "I don't want to catch a case of lying, but I don't think I could because you're not sick."
You let your voice return to normal, no longer feigning malady, "How could you tell?"
He stood, leaning against the tall desk. He folded his arms over his scrubs and scrunched the forest green cotton and rayon, "Your throat's gone down, and, obviously, I prescribed the right thing. Top of my class and all. Why did you do it?"
You trapped yourself in here, and there was nothing else to say but the truth, "I . . . think you're hot?"
"Wow, that's a new one—and a relief. Usually, the patients I see more than once have made-up names and appendages I can't even describe—you'd have to be there! And they always try to . . .kill me."
"What?"
"Hey, don't spin this around on me. I'm the one asking questions, here," he mirrored, uncomfortably shifting away from the desk. "How could you make it up to me?"
The question lingered like the newly raised hand to his chin to signify the thoughts running through his head. Your head started to conjure ideas of what exactly he would do. Doctor Parker didn't seem mad when he learned about the reason behind this contrived visit, but maybe it was how he handled things. He kept calm and probably already called security or would ask you to leave, from what you could assume. 
After a few moments of deliberation, he dropped his arms by his sides, "I think the best thing to do, is to give you a taste of your own medicine, yeah?"
With his elbows bent, his hands dug up the hem of his shirt and to the waistband stretching over his flat stomach. The hulk-green elastic slid up to the thenars of his hands with nowhere to go but down, thanks to the pressure he applied, the band easily giving way to reveal his partly defined Adonis belt. It was prominent, but the lines looked as if they were lightly sketched on what was otherwise a perfect sculpture.
"What are you doing?" you had to ask as if it wasn't obvious. His thumbs showed through the outline of his pants and a thicker, more pronounced, and lengthier silhouette just further down. You knew what he wanted; he only had to say it.
"Doing what you want, playing doctor and patient. Today's checkup involves a laryngoscopy—throat examination, if that was too confusing," he spoke as if he was in control but still had the consideration that his soft-leaning look won you over with on your first visit. This time, you saw his hardened and more defined side as he finally let his pants drop to his knees. No underwear. He was confident in a way where other people wouldn't know unless they were close to him. 
His cock stood tall, and his balls hung low with enough to push the limits of whatever it entered and was sure to create enough of a smack with each passionate hip-rock. Lengthy enough to reach all the right places, but not enough to go where it didn't belong. A couple of tugs with his right hand later proved the second half of that untrue as he grew even more excited.
"You're gonna have to lay back," he waded near you, half-pulled-down pants restricting his steps so far. With a single hand, he maneuvered you with impossible strength, only ceasing his hold when you were on your back, head titled over the foot of the examination bed. The table paper's end crinkled in your ears.
The fluorescent tubes casting light from above were shadowed by his figure stepping into the frame of your flipped world view. His smooth and defined thighs blocked your peripherals. In only seconds, the dry head of his cock was at your gated lips. He hastily spoke, teasing, "Say, ahh. I'll make it nice and sore, just like you need."
Your lips brushed it as they parted, "Aren't you supposed to make me feel better?"
"This is for me since you wasted my time. Don't worry, it'll only hurt a little," he left you with that, suddenly entering your mouth, lips conforming to the girth. 
Your tongue felt the topside of his cock; the small ridge where the wide tip ended, and the length and all of its scattered veins began. It was tasteless, bland, and made even more uninteresting since the doctor took his sweet time. The only thing that saved it and provided excitement were the soft noises he made. He had been talkative up until now, but you still knew how he felt. His moans were enough to discern it. He spewed out hushed 'ohs' and pants, which seemed odd as he was less than halfway in your mouth. That was enough to tell he enjoyed it so far, but you wondered about the distance that far away could be. When he didn't have to guide himself into you anymore, the hand holding his hefty length moved to grip the table—tightly. You could have sworn you heard the metal creaking with the pressure.
His cock snaked forward, earning a sharp gluck once he reached your throat. Then, you convulsed, body shaking at the unnatural mass invading your mouth, lips sputtering around him. He sneered in delight, his own set of lips breaking the set of his face to form a smile. His slow pace stopped when a light tracing of hair grazed your chin, balls low enough to brush your nose. Your throat jutted, his head showing from the outside as a small peak in the middle, made more apparent by how your head was titled back.
Slowly, it began to sink and rise as he started to rock his hips. He started to pick up a pace, burying himself until there was nothing left to hide and reeling it back moments later to rest just short of your lips. Every now and then, he would make you swallow his cock for longer than a few seconds, causing welled-up spit to pour from your mouth and onto him and your face. At a certain point, he broke his rhythm, withdrawing all of himself from your wet encasement. Slicked in spit, his gorgeous length glistened in the fluorescent white.
"Feel good?" You could hardly stutter it out, jaw aching at the corners.
"Yeah, it feels great. Nothing wrong with it so far, but I'd like to consider a re-evaluation."
Familiarity washed over you, the same feeling as moments before returning with more wants. More needs. To your surprise, the hand on the examination table keeping his thrusts steady now rested around your throat. The doctor yearned to feel himself piercing you, putting his breath-taking looks into a literal sense. And he did; your throat unwillingly bulged with his deeply buried cock. An unregulated series of appearing and disappearing beneath his palm and wet noises coming from your spit-filled cavern.
After a few more globs of spit well up and spill from your mouth—making all the noises that were expected along with it—the doctor needily stated that he was "going to come." No less than a second later, warm white poured down your throat with no other option except to be swallowed.
The doctor pulled away, a mixture of release and slobber slicking his cock. He waded to the sink, reaching for a few paper towels from the dispenser to wipe himself off.
You sat up, wiping a hand over your mouth and nose to clear off some of his sticky come and your spit, "What about me?"
"What about you?" He laughed at the end of his return. Once he had fixed himself up to act as if the past twenty minutes had never happened, he went to the computer and took a seat on the oversized chair, like last time. 
As he tapped away at the keyboard, he informed you about the changes to your medical file, "I'll put myself as your Primary Care Physician from now on, but Doctor Banner might want to see you soon. I think he'll have a new stress reliever."
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thewriterg · 1 year
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♡︎naive little pup♡︎
Pairing(s): Peter Parker x afab!reader, Peter Parker x gn!reader, Naive!Peter x Dark!reader, Vamp!reader
Summary: Peter was having one of the most exhausting days of his life and he needed you to make it all better because in the end you were the only one who could —kinktober; day 3—
Word count: 1.3k+
Warning(s): Dry humping, m!receiving, dirty talk, dumbification, sub space, praise!kink, mommy!kink, Peter is a 18 year old senior in Highschool and language
A/n: —GIFs aren’t mine— You guys are gonna get two fic’s today because I missed yesterday I was really sick —food poisoning core— but we’re back now 🤭
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You had been laying around your condo for at least two hours now as you lied down on the longest part of your mineral grey sectional couch with your eyes closed along with the your blackout curtains that blocked out the sunlight from your vision
You were a vampire, yes. But you weren’t the ones that sparkled in the sun or burned at the slightest kiss from it either.. well you were kinda in a way
You had This pretty little thing called daylight jewelry it kept you from burning towards your temporary death, you were a original vampire one of the first of the vampires to exist but if you were being technical you were the first to transition along with your siblings that you couldn’t bring yourself to be bothered with
But the ring on your middle finger allowed you to walk in the daylight freely you weren’t pale and your eyes weren’t a crimson red unless you were feeding your body worked as the normal human minus the fact you consumed blood to survive, your blood could be used to heal things, you could hear thing up to a thirty mile radius, you had superior strength and speed to average human being x100, and you just couldn’t seem to die.
You’re also over 1000 years old but you know just one of the side effects.
The only thing that caught your interest in the time of day were a dinging notification from your phone that you had kept one do not disturb 92% of the time tweaking your settings to only get important notification’s that involved some emails from witches that had owed you favors, updates about a spell book you wanted In particular, and Peter your sweet little naive pup
Peeling your eyes open you feel around for the Device when the cool screen finally came in contact with your fingertips you took it in front of your face coming into contact with the mid brightness of the screen
I need you sent 3:06
You’d had read over the message at least fourteen times in the last two minutes it was short a simple but it was so much more behind it and you knew that’s
What’s the matter with my pup? Do you need me to come pick you up Seen 3:09
You waited impatiently staring at the three dots that repeatedly blinked on your screen you were already throwing on your closest pair of boots you could find before your phone dinged again
Please mommy I need you right now sent 3:11
Peter had been a little more reluctant of getting out of bed this morning especially peeling away from your chest he couldn’t seem to let a one man job be done by yourself like brushing your teeth, picking out clothes, doing you hair and makeup
I’m on my way. Seen 3:11
Sliding your phone into your back pocket and not bothering to lock your door you cursed to yourself as you rushed down the stair well forgetting the elevator how couldn’t have you noticed
When you finally reached The parking lot You unlocked your car and we’re making a ten minute drive with traffic five minutes.
ꨄꨄꨄ
“I’m here for Peter Parker early dismissal” You stated to the secretary who barely batted an eye at you before pointing to the clip board with sign out sheets clipped to them which you rolled your eyes at scribbling down the Information it asked
“Excuse me Miss I would really appreciate if you get of your ass and get my kid” You hissed at the women who looked at you with wide eyes picking up the telephone after reading off what you assumed to be Peters’s schedule on the desktop
“He’s on his way mam you can sit in a chair if you’d like” The women warily offered without another word you pushed your sunglasses down on your face from where they rested on your forehead before sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs with your leg bouncing up and down while you watched the hands on the clock move
It was at least five minutes before Peter buzzed through the the double doors as you stood immediately from your seat with your arms open prepared for embrace while Peter fell into them without hesitation
Ever since your relationship with Peter you had been.. more open to physical affection it wasn’t your favorite but you could comfort and maneuver with it well
“Hi honey” You muttered into the boys hair his grip didn't loosen once as he started to whine at the loss of contact when you pulled away while you shushed him softly
“Hey I know okay? I know but we’d be very more comfortable in bed than right here it’ll be a fast drive I promise” You offered to the boy who reluctantly nodded slipping his hand into your own while the both of you stepped out of the door you felt a nudge on your shoulder to see Peter blocking his eyes from the bright sun
You couldn’t help but stare in awe with a small chuckle while your took you own sunglasses off your own face while placing them on the bridge of Peters nose the black lenses dulling the bright sun before you two began to walk across the street
Just like you made a ten minute drive five arriving you did the same driving back to your condo eager to get the clingy teen into the safety of your home
ꨄꨄꨄ
You and Peter had been cuddling and engaging with skin to skin for a short while the only thing blocking you both was your tank top and underwear and peters basketball shorts you’d both taken a shower and after you’d force Peter to eat something having picked him up before lunch you’d been happy to give your pup some affection
You had been watching something random on the Tv finally using the surprise me button on a Netflix but it seemed just to be background noise now as you repeatedly ran your hand through his hair while he rested his face in your neck
You felt small movements on the little of your thigh and at first you thought Peter was just trying to get comfortable but when more than 30 seconds passed and you could start to feel Peter’s breath deepen against your neck making the small hairs stand up you knew it was different
“Do you have something to tell me baby?” You questioned softly while Peter let out a soft whine slowing his thrusting hips against your thighs but not coming to a complete stop
“I need you mommy please” Peter sniffled as he began to work his hips into your leg this time with your hands on his hips guiding them as you set mid pace you could feel his breath hitch on your shoulder
Peter’s arms tightened almost suffocatingly around your waist as your precious little spider continued to thrust his hips up to meet yours and if it weren’t for you being a vampire and having inhumanly healing he would’ve lefts makes
Hiding into the crook of you neck to hide poorly concealed cries and desperate whines Peter panted into your ears by hot breath sobs soon turning into hiccuping gasps when the tip of his cock would rub perfectly up into the fabric of his boxers hips angling to catch that spot every time
It wasn’t long before a startled cry left Peters lips his back arching up suddenly and hips stuttering before he barely registered something sticky splattering against his thigh head still spinning with the sensations feeling overwhelmed Peter buried his face into the crook of your neck peppering your shoulder in small kisses between mumbles of apologies as he still rocked his hips up to meet yours in the aftershocks of his orgasm
“It’s okay you did so good for me baby” You muttered into his hairline bringing the soft covers over his back muttering sweet nothings into his ear You had both fell asleep not long after the only thing on Peter’s brain is how’d he repay you
He had a few ideas in mind.
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soulscryer · 1 month
Text
tasm!Peter Parker x vigilante!reader ༊ 0.6k
cw: abandoned puppies, mentions of violence
When you had become a vigilante, you had no idea it would entail this. Sitting on the cold pavement, two small puppies trying to scramble across your lap.
Another had its head on Peter’s shoulder, his arms cradled to hold it to his chest. If you listened past the sound of distant cars, you could hear it snoring softly, nose pressed to his latex suit.
“That one won’t leave the box,” Peter says, turning his head to look at the fourth puppy. Still in the cardboard box, deep in an alley where you had found them all.
You and Peter had the sense to remove your masks when you had initially approached. And while three had scrambled out when you had both lowered yourselves to the ground, one had remained curled in on itself—pensive.
“Maybe our masks scared it,” you suggest, shrugging your shoulders.
If you had to guess by looking at them, you’d think they were Cavapoos. Each was white-furred with varying degrees of red fur patches splotted across their bodies and faces.
The one in the box you were both watching was the smallest of them all. Or it seemed that way from its condensed demeanour. Yet its eyes were wide and dark, fixated on you.
“Do you think we should coax it out or put them all back in?”
You looked away, turning to Peter. His eyebrows pulled down low above his eyes, casting them into shadow. Most of him was in shadow—the glow from the streetlights reached the mouth of the alley and no further. Only the far-stretched light from the moon illuminated you both.
“Either way we’re not leaving them.”
“No,” Peter agreed. “We should get them to a vet."
Already having risen, you paused, lowering the puppies in your lap back into the box with their timid brethren.
“I’m seconding the notion to take them to the vet.”
Peter scuffled up behind you, the sleeping puppy still curled to his chest as he peered over your shoulder. His exhale was quick as a blow to his ribs, winding him.
“That’s why it didn’t leave the box,” you murmur.
Only three legs were curled up to the puppy's torso, the end of its tail covering the stump in place of where a fourth should be.
Your fingers itched to remove the gloves covering your hands. To press a hand to the puppy and see what had happened—to hold your breath and hope it had been born that way.
“Peter.”
“Grab the box,” he ground out. “They better not have a chip in them.”
“I hope they do. I want to meet the fucker who left them here.”
You grabbed the box anyway, careful not to jostle them too much. Nonetheless, they all seemed unsure of the movement, ears dropping down low. Three pairs of large eyes peered up at you as you walked.
“You would like to meet them or your fists?”
You grinned. “My fists, feet, a large metal bat. With spikes.”
Peter shot you a look over his shoulder but did not scold you.
Since learning of each other's identities, you had become friends beyond your alliance as vigilantes. With the trust held between you due to all you endured together, it was difficult to not let all your walls down around him.
Thus you had both discovered that, at times, you could be more volatile than Peter. Though he had been kind enough to disclose to you that there was a time when he had gone rogue, turning his back on the city. Because of it, he never judged you harshly when your emotions ran over your sense of logic like a freight train.
“You’ll be too busy fretting over them to track down their owner.”
“Former owner.”
Peter paused. “You aren’t taking them home.”
“Not if they have a disease or need help only a veterinarian can provide,” you grin.
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