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#andrew garfield peter x reader
donald4spiderman · 2 years
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I dont know if you're still taking requests if so could you write a fratboytasm!peter getting jealous because another boy at a party is trying to flirt with you, so he comes over and starts kissing you or something and then throws u over his shoulder taking u to the closest room.
NOT WITHOUT JEALOUSLY
frat!tasm!peter x gn!reader
tw: jealously, making out, suggestiveness
a/n: I took this as a jealous!peter where the two of you are sort of dating but it’s not official or exclusive. hope you enjoy!
masterlist
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PETER SWEARS HE’S NOT LIKE THIS, he’s not that type of guy. Technically, the two of you aren’t even dating, let alone exclusive. The burning discomfort and jealously surging through his veins isn’t supposed to be here. He’s not suppose to feel this way.
He physically recoils into himself when the flirty guy across from you reaches out to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face. Peter thinks he sees you flinch, teeth bared in a forced smile. Maybe it’s his wishful thinking.
He must look strange—staring wide-eyed at you from the middle of the crowded room. People seems too drunk to notice, the party continues to flow around him. The guy leans in closer, muttering something that makes you chuckle quirky. Peter debates the ethicality of using his status as president of the fraternity to kick him out of their party.
The two of you are talking for a really long time. So long that Peter has sobered up slightly, which somehow is only making the jealously more and more powerful within him. He hates the you actually seem to be enjoying yourself.
You’ve mentioned how quickly you were to shut down guys who seemed too arrogant or reliant on their masculinity. The guy standing in front of you is handsome and built, looks like a football player, which is not your usual type. There must be something about his personality, then. Something about him that makes him better than Peter.
Time passes, and the party is still going strong. You’re still talking to that guy. Peter notices and open window when he leaves with his solo cup to grab another drink. You’re alone for a moment and he seizes the opportunity.
“Hey, (Y/N).” The gravel in his voice makes you shiver.
“Oh, hi, Pete.” You chirp, genuinely delighted to see him for the first time the entire night. “This party is...kind of tolerable.”
He smiles, “Well, I knew you were coming, so I wanted it to be a little less overwhelming for you. I know how you hate crazy parties.”
“You did that for me, Pete?” Is it wrong that a simple nickname to makes him horny? “You didn’t have to.”
“Of course I did.”
Peter feels like he’s getting his grove back. You’re looking up at him with loving eyes, and he forgets about that other dude for just a moment.
“Did you meet Carter?”
“Huh? Who?”
“The guy I was talking to all night since ao couldn’t find you.” Shit, really. “By the way, where were you?”
“Carter...n-no-didn’t meet ‘em.” He chews his lips in frustration, shaking his head.
“That’s too bad, you would like him.”
“Would I?” It’s quiet a murmur more for himself, but you hear it.
“What was that?” You question, poking at his chest. “Something’s upsetting you?” You sound a little annoyed, but he tries to ignore it.
“No. I-It’s fine. It’s just-well,” he stammers with his head hung low in shake, “I-I don’t like the way he was f-flirting...with you.”
Your face scrunches up sarcastically, “Oh, so this was an ego thing? Don’t want the other kids peeing your sandbox?” You cringe immediately, and so does Peter. “Okay, bad analogy, but the point still stands.”
“What? I c-can’t be jealous?”
“No!” You exclaim as if it’s a kindergarten knowledge.
“I can’t help it, okay. I like you,” Here he goes, “A lot. And you know it. A-and I don’t like other guys flirting with you, ‘cause that should be my job.”
“Aw, Pete.” You coo. “You’re sort of cute when you’re jealous.”
“Stop it! I’m serious! I don’t like way he was talking to you.”
He sneaks a quick glance to his left to find that what’s his name? Carter! Is returning with his drink. Peter has a plan, and he hopes you’ll forgive him.
“Forgive me?”
“For what?”
As soon as Carter is within two feet, Peter’s slamming his lips onto yours. Shocked, you stumble a few steps back, but reciprocate, nonetheless. Your arms snake around his waist to pull him in tighter, and you’ve long forgotten about the man who occupied your night before this.
You break apart from the kiss, gasping, only to be tossed onto Peter’s shoulder.
“Peter!” You cry out. “Let me down. I swear to god, I will fuck you up, Peter!”
He chuckles, mostly to antagonize poor Carter (who hasn’t really done anything wrong).
“Sorry, man.” He offers a half-assed apology before leading you up the stairs and into his room.
SEND IN REQUESTS!
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Dandelions - Ruth B.
Peter Parker x reader
Thank you, @manyfandomsfanvergent 💜 This story came to me almost instantly. Hope you like it !!
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Forever in Your Eyes
This drabble is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!
Song Prompt: Dandelions
Pairing: (AG) Peter Parker x reader (no pronouns used)
Words: ~1500
CWs: minor swearing, mentions of Gwen’s death, some kissing
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Sunset light bathes the battered desks and vinyl floors of the art studio, discussions of weekend plans and new movies hums lowly through the room; Thursday night classes had that effect on everyone, but especially those with no classes on Friday.
Those like Peter Parker - who’d only made the Friday Class Mistake once so far in his college career. The young college student, and part time masked vigilante, slides into an empty plastic chair just as the tutor enters the room.
“Portraits!” The tutor, a vibrant bespectacled man named Robin, reminds everyone of the plan for the class as he takes attendance in his head. There were only about sixteen people in this time slot so it’s an easy task.
“Your assignment was to find some portraiture you really connected with, take it apart, make it your own, I don’t need to remind you guys,” he waves a hand as a shrug. “Let’s jump in so we can all get on with our weekend. Who wants to go first for crits?”
The girl sitting next to Peter, an eager beaver named Marie, puts her hand up to have her work picked apart. And so it begins.
Person after person shares their screen to the projector and explains why they chose their setting, the subject, the colouring, why it was edited the way it was. Peter ends up being last, and he’s feeling pretty good about the photos he’d taken of you.
He’d had to bribe you, of course. Because you hated being in front of a camera but not more than you loved a burger from that place just outside of town - the place near a secret patch of wildflowers that Peter wanted to capture you in.
He’d been careful to make sure the flowers treated carefully and with respect. Then, he’d done the same with his camera-shy best friend.
You’d needed a lot more reassurance than the flowers had.
“I’m doing a terrible job.”
“No, you’re doing great,” Peter encouraged as he peaked out from behind the lens. “Tilt your head a little to the left, just a- perfect.” He snapped a few more shots before seeing you subtly squirm and draw in an uncomfortable breath. He lowered the camera and caught you in a gentle, level stare. “Hey. Just look at me.”
“You’re not the problem,” you argued and crossed your arms over yourself, “It’s that thing in your hand.”
He grinned at you. “Don’t look at the thing in my hand.” He saw you take another shaky breath in before you met his eye with an intense vulnerability.
“Yeah,” his smile softened, he pointed and clicked as he kept your focus on him. “Just keep looking at me…”
The photos turned out great, and it’s his turn to have his work critiqued.
He clicks a few keys, types in the screen-sharing code, and your face fills the large screen at the front of the room.
It’s an objectively beautiful photo of you. The colours of the earth and the flowers bring out that sparkle in your eye that Peter’s come to know as the starlight that appears when you’re laughing, or thinking of something cheeky to say in response, when you’re truly at ease and happy where you are. Your expression says peace. The flowers around you bring out something wild in your soft smile. Your stare is just above the lens, fixed on Peter.
Before he can explain why he chose this field, why he chose his best friend, Robin makes a noise of approval and turns to the class.
“Okay guys, see now this is the advantage of doing portraits with a romantic partner- with someone you have a real connection with. See that depth in the subject’s eyes, and see where the eyes are fixed? On the photographer, right? Now, that’s something that can’t be faked.”
The sun had set. The room has darkened. But Peter is caught too off-guard to worry if anyone can see the way his cheeks were burning, or the way his drying mouth was hanging open. But you don’t feel the sa-
“The trick, Peter, is going to be figuring out how you can pull this from other subjects going forward,” Robin throws the words out so nonchalantly, painfully oblivious to the way his student’s head is spinning. “Now let’s take a look at the setting.”
The rest of the feedback is a ghost to Peter. It drifts by, vacant, untouchable, warping time and reality. All he can think of is you and that look in your eyes. How long had you looked at him like that without him noticing?
Or, more accurately, how long did he notice but not really know what it meant?
Needless to say, he broke land speed records sprinting out of the building the second class ended, and ripping his skateboard down the sidewalk towards your apartment just off-campus.
Oblivious to Peter’s crisis, you pick up a fork and make your way to the fuzzy blankets calling your name. Your roommates were out and it was the perfect night for Doordash and a marathon of that show you’d been wanting to see. You settle onto the couch, ready to press play, when you hear a frantic knock at your front door and Peter shouting your name through it.
“I know you’re in there!” He yells, still pounding. You lower your brow and practically vault over the couch trying to get to the door before he breaks it down with his fist.
“I’m coming! Jeez, Pete!” You yell back right before your fingers flip the deadbolt and you pull the door inwards. “What the hell’s the matter with y-”
“How long?” He demands, waging a glare so intense you suddenly feel like you’ve done something super wrong. Your mouth falls slack as Peter brushes past you to enter your apartment.
It takes you a moment to recover, to try and put together what the hell he was on about, and by the time you realise that he’s out of line coming in here with vague accusations, so you close the door and turn to face him, you’re met with the sight of his open laptop screen on your kitchen counter.
It’s a photo of you, from the wildflower fields. Something deep in you wants to internally cringe but… it looks real. Honest.
When you meet Peter’s eye, he looks the same way. Except there’s something desperate in his gaze.
“How long?” He repeated, breathless and wanting.
You open your mouth to respond and quickly realise you don’t know how to. Thankfully, Peter fills in the blanks.
“How long have you been in love with me?”
It’s a punch to the gut. That question. It sucks every bit of air from your lungs, from your throat, tears spring to your eyes and you don’t really know why. Maybe because it’s so out of left-field and you have no time for any other reaction. Maybe because of the despairing way he was looking at you, and you had no idea why he’d be doing this.
“Peter, please,” you choked out. It was useless to lie to him. “I’ve never expected anything more from you, I’m happy with-”
He takes a step forward. “How long?”
You cover your eyes with the heels of your palms and sniff in a cry. “I don’t know. A while, I guess.”
You feel him take another step towards you and you’re sure you’re done for. He’s going to step around you and walk out and never come back and-
“We’ve wasted so much time,” his gentle whisper comes. His touch comes too, weaving through your own, tugging your palms from your eyes just far enough for him to place his hands, cradling either side of your face.
You brave meeting his eye, and… peace.
Your shoulders release their tension, your jaw unclenches, your hands find rest around his wrists. In a feeble attempt to explain, you mumble, “I didn’t know if you were ready.”
The metaphysical mention of Gwen sends a bolt of grief through Peter’s heart. But it’s a grief he’s grown to greet like a friend; one that will always be with him, one that wants him to grow.
His thumb traces the warm blush on your cheekbones, wiping away a tear in the process. He didn’t do this right. He should’ve done this better but the pain and recognition and the want all melded into one and-
He stops overthinking and doesn’t waste any more time.
Peter ducks his head and kisses you like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he already knows the contours of your skin, like he’s memorised the steady beckoning in your breath.
He’s a welcoming home. Under his hands, you find a refuge. When he steps into you, closing the space between your bodies, the heat of him is an all-encompassing embrace. You kiss him like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times before. It feels so right. The taste of forever is sweeter than any time you’d ever dreamed of it.
Because this time it’s real.
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bellarkeselection · 2 years
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Are you still taking request for Andrew!Peter? If so I have one if it's not too much:
Takes place after NWH and Peter finds love again with the reader, who is shy. And Peter takes her to meet Aunt May.
Hi I am sorry it took me so long but here is your request. I have been trying to figure out the perfect way to write this ❤️
Finding Love Again
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Returning home after saving the other Peter's MJ he felt different for some reason. He finally figured the reason was because it had brought up feelings for Gwen Stacy. His one true love that had died because he wasn't quick enough. Until he met you his new girlfriend Y/n L/n. It was actually a little funny how we met when I think about it now. There was this weird rino dude who escaped prisoner again that was about to blast me with his gun until Peter swooped in down onto the street saving my life. From that day I believed Peter wasn't afraid of anything until today apparently. I had finally convinced him to let me meet his aunt May so he didn't have to keep sneaking me out of his bedroom every night when she came to check on him. She doesn't know that he is Spider-Man so I was his secret girlfriend that he met at a coffee shop was the story we were going with. "Peter calm down. I'm sure she will like me..." I try reassuring my boyfriend sensing his nerves.
"I'm sorry I am worrying about this. If anything I should be comforting you about today." He apologized giving me the soft puppy eyes. Reaching up I ruffle his messy hair with a smile on my face. He rests a hand on my face giving me a kiss on the forehead. "But you have nothing to worry about. You're beautiful and sweet she'll love you." Bending my head down I looked at the ground a little shy before he knocked on the apartment door. I am not as confident about myself like my boyfriend is all the time. I get really shy around new people but once I am comfortable with them I am okay in a situation. The door finally opened and we are greeted by a woman with black glasses and brown hair who hugged Peter immediately smiling. "I wasn't expecting to see you today Peter. Oh and who's your friend. Please come in I just made some meatloaf in you two want some." She ushered us inside closing the door behind me.
The four of us each grabbed a plate of food before sitting down at the dinner table eating in comfortable silence. Peter nudged me underneath the table with leg making me blush lightly. "So uh Aunt May. I am dating...Peter. That's why we came here today so I could meet you in person." She dropped her fork on the table lightly hitting it with her hands scolding him. "Peter Parker how dare you didn't tell me sooner. Oh this is is great news that you've found someone who makes you happy again. I want to know everything about you dear." Releasing a sigh of relief I lay my head on my boyfriend's chest when he draped an arm over my shoulder kissing my forehead. "See I told you she would love you, baby. Just like I do." Lifting my head up I kissed him mumbling into it through a soft smile. "I love you too...Spider-Man."
Comments really appreciated 😊
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fa1ry-tales · 2 years
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bored this summer and i want to write again!! just send an ask and i’ll do my best to give it to you!!!
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c1nnam00n · 1 month
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me seeing that my fav character barely/doesn’t have any fanfics OR imagines
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p3terparker · 11 months
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𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 𝗺𝗲 - 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿
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𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: peter wants to be babied.
𝘄/𝗰: 0.5k
𝗮/𝗻: hey guys!! it has been nearly a year since i’ve last written and i just wanna say i’m sorry for leaving for so long </3 please do bear with me, this may not be that good judging by how long it’s been since i’ve last written. i hope you enjoy though! also for everyone who has requested something, i haven’t forgotten about you! i’m getting to those soon :)
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“please hold me” 
it’s nearly 1am and you’re sprawled out on your bed watching some random movie that was playing on tv. you’ve been up waiting for hours for peter to come by after patrol, and now he’s finally here sneaking in through your window.
“are you okay baby? you finished up pretty late” you question softly as you take off his mask and brush his hair out of his face.
“i’m fine. i just want you to hold me” he says tiredly and practically puts all of his body weight on you, causing you both to fall back onto your bed.
adjusting yourselves to get more comfortable, you’re now laid back on your pillow as you hug peters large frame while his face is nuzzled in your chest.
you two lay silently as you rub his back until you decide to break the silence.
“you know, you’re still in your suit. you’re getting my bed dirty.”
“you just want me to take it off so you can see me naked”
“you’re done” you say before attempting to push him off of you. peter quickly caught your hands before you could even try.
“how did you–”
“i’m spider-man, baby”
“clearly” you chuckle, referring to him still being in his suit.
“since you want to see me naked so bad, i’ll take it off” he groans as if it’s the hardest task in the world. “happy now?”
“very. now come lay back down”
you don’t have to tell him twice. he quickly gets back into the position you two were in before and enjoys the warmth and comfort you bring him.
“you’re so perfect petey, did you know that?”
“mmm” he groans into as he nuzzles his face further into your chest, enjoying the sudden compliment.
“i mean seriously. you’re so smart, so strong, so caring and so funny. you being handsome is just the cherry on top”
“stoppp” he whines. “i’m blushing.”
“okay fine, i’m done”
“nooo, i didn’t mean it! keep going please” he cries as he lifts up his head to look at you.
“you are truly such a big baby”
“i’m your big baby. now continue please, i love being praised by you.”
how could you deny him?
“i love how cute you are. you have the prettiest brown hair and eyes. your face is perfectly sculpted too. i don’t know how i got blessed with the most handsome boyfriend in the world.” 
“mmm” he groans again in complete ecstasy. hearing your compliments is like music to his ears.
“you’re so cute, i just want to squish your cheeks” you say before lifting his head up slightly and squishing his cheeks together.
you cannot believe he’s letting you baby him like this.
“aww petey, you’re so adorable” 
“thank you” he says with a pink tint on his cheeks as he rests his head on your chest again, suddenly feeling sleepy.
you two sat in silence for a few more minutes and he peacefully drifted to sleep.
you were definitely going to make fun of him for tonight in the morning.
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alwaysmoncheri · 2 months
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hello! I hope you’re doing good! I would like to request a fic with tasm!peter parker or james potter if you prefer, but something where they’re making out and the reader ends up breaking his glasses? If that makes sense🫣
hi, my darling, i’m am doing very well! thank you for requesting, that makes complete sense! I’m totally watching tasm again after writing this <3
cw: fem!reader, making out, slightly suggestive (but not really), aunt may walking in, established relationship, fluff, 1.2k
<3
Peter’s mouth is on your neck while the bridge of his glasses rubs against the skin just an inch higher than his mouth. His hands stay firmly planted on your hips as you sit in his lap on his swivel chair. Your textbook and computer lay abandoned next to his on his desk in front of you.
“Peter, I have to study,” you mumble, but the sigh that escapes your lips makes your excuse less believable, “We have to study.” you add, trying you best to get yourself and peter back on track for a big exam tomorrow. Crazy for Peter or not, this test is important and you need to get a little studying in, but you can’t get Peter to keep his hands off you.
“No, we don’t.” Peter replies quickly, before biting your neck, causing you to let out squeak.
“Peter,” you practically whine, and the chuckle that falls from Peter’s mouth vibrates onto your neck, causing you to squirm in his lap. When Peter lifts his head from your neck, you’re pouting. Lips jutted out and eyebrows pinched together with pleading eyes. Oh, Peter could die right here with you in his arms. He pulls you closer, biceps and hands pressed into your sides and forearms into your stomach.
“You’re going to be fine,” Peter offers gently, pressing a much softer kiss to your cheek, allowing you to release the tension from your face, “You’ve studied plenty already.”
“But–”
“No, buts,” Peter shuts you down, gently rubbing your sides in an attempt to silence your worries. He wants to kiss you so bad, but he would never do it without your permission. And if you want to study, he’ll let you, but he doesn’t think you really do, “Kiss me?”
Peter hears you release a long, dramatic, sigh before shifting yourself in his lap so that you’re straddling him, his hands now stabilizing you by your waist. For a moment your face is expressionless and Peter can’t read you. He worries that you’re unhappy with him but when he sees a giddy smile creep onto your face, he instantly reciprocates and his worries melt away.
You lock your hands around Peter’s neck before leaning in to kiss him. At first, you kiss him softly, tenderly just because you love him. But when you lightly tug on Peter’s hair at the nape of his neck, he takes it as a sign to tug on your hips, pulling you flush against his chest and deepen the kiss. But when the bridge of you nose knocks into Peter’s glasses, you groan in momentary pain, causing his eyes to widen, hand reaching up to gently hold your cheek, the action asking if you’re okay. When you nod your head and meet his gaze, you notice his concern before it’s quickly replaced with frustration. Peter quickly tears his glasses on his face and tosses them towards his bed without sparing a glance in that direction. But when a soft crack echos from across the room, you snap your gaze towards the glasses that now lay broken at the bridge on the floor.
“Peter!” You gasp, shifting your gaze between him and the broken glasses, but no concern seems to be etched on his face.
“Don’t worry, I can get new ones,” Peter assures you, kissing the corners of your lips while his nose delicately brushes the apples of your cheeks, “I just wanna kiss you.” Peter whispers and you feel a rush of warmth spread across your face at his tone.
“Aunt May isn’t going to be happy.” You state, nervously glancing towards the door that Peter probably forgot to lock again.
“Shush, less talking, baby,” Oh god, you melt completely at the way his says baby and presses his finger to your mouth, before replacing it with his lips, “More kissing.” He adds in between a few quick, hard, presses of his lips on yours.
“Oh whatev—hmph!”
Peter kisses you long and hard, successfully getting you to stop talking. You feel hot all over when he kisses you again and again. And when you rank your fingers through his hair, lightly tugging on the ends, while simultaneously gently biting his bottom lip, Peter makes a sound between a gasp and a groan that makes you want to do it again just so you can hear the sound once more. There’s a kiss, another, and another, you’re so caught up in the feeling of his mouth against yours, carefully sliding your hands up and down his chest before lightly gripping a fist full of his shirt to keep him near you.
The way Peter touches you is like muscle memory, he knows how to make you gasp and what makes you shiver. When, his hands slip under the material of your shirt and caress your skin, your body reacts exactly how he knows it always does. Then, he lifts you up, your legs wrap around his waist, and with his lips still on yours, he gently lowers the both of you onto his bed. He seems so far away now and you can’t handle it. Before he even has the chance to lower himself further down onto the bed, you grab his biceps, which are tensed from holding himself up, and tug him towards you. Peter practically falls and suddenly the weight of his whole body is on top of you, Peter worries for a moment, breaking the kiss, but you make a noise, reminiscent to a childish whine before grabbing his jaw with both of you hands and pulling him back. With his lips on yours, his tongue slides into your mouth while your thumbs trace the outline of his jaw and his hand slides behind you back and into your shirt.
“Hey, do you two know where—Oh my goodness!” You and Peter are quickly pulled apart, turning your heads in the direction of Aunt May’s loud gasp. She stands just outside the bedroom with one hand still on the doorknob, her expression loudly displaying her shock. Peter stays on top of you for a split second, before May’s gaze shifts between his hand in your shirt and both of your disheveled appearances, “Peter Benjamin Parker!”
With that, Peter immediately jumps up from on top of you, quickly grabbing your hand to stand next to him. Both of your faces are flushed red from being caught, even if all you were doing was kissing. Aunt May stands by the door, both of her hands placed firmly on her hips, presumably awaiting a reasonable response while you and Peter glance at each other in search of something to say. When Peter’s gaze returns to his aunt, he finally opens his mouth to speak.
“Aunt May—We were just—” Peter pauses as he stumbles over his words, feeling pathetic under the eyes of both you and his aunt.
“Studying.” You finish with a somewhat convincing smile and when Aunt May turns to you, her gaze softens, but when she notices the broken glasses laying forgotten on the floor behind you, her questioning expression returns.
“And what happened to your glasses?” Aunt May asks, a triumphant smile crossing her face as she knows she’s caught the two of you red-handed in your obvious lie, “Were you studying when that happened?”
You and Peter hesitate, he sends you a nervous smile and the both of you bite your tongues, not trusting yourselves to speak. After a moment, the two of you nod, heads hanging low.
“Mhm, right,” May hums before sending Peter a look that says, ‘we’ll talk later.’ Then, she takes a few steps into the room, causing you and Peter’s eyes to widen, but May only steps around you to pick up the broken glasses before walking back towards the door, “Well, dinner is almost ready, you two better behave.”
“Okay, yeah, thank you, May.” Peter says, and you can tell he’s beyond flustered by the situation as he runs a hand through his hair, then brushes a finger along his bottom lip, “We’ll be down soon.”
May nods before sending the both of you one final look, this one a little more playful than the rest. She exits the bedroom and closes the door behind her, leaving you and Peter alone once again.
The both of you share a glance before breaking out in a fit of laughter. Peter falls back onto the bed, tugging you down with his so that you’re laying on his chest.
“I told you she’d be mad.” You tease, running your hand up his chest, eventually reaching the back of his neck, while leaving a gentle kiss on his jaw.
“It was so worth it.” Peter smirks before flipping you over and kissing your face
<3
masterlist . tasm!peter parker masterlist . taglist
thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!
tags: @googie-jeon, @Kevia1000, @annoyingmidgetwhowrites, @averyhotchner, @marauderswhxre, @vixparker
alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.
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biblio-smia · 4 months
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shy shy shy
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a little insecure tasm peter parker x reader, early stages of relationship
masterlist | requests are open!
nerdy peter lovers rise
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They were just glasses.
On, off. On, off. A clear reflection of Peter in the bathroom mirror, a few circles of color where his head and body would be.
Peter examines himself with the lenses on, pulls out a piece of his sweater that had gotten caught inside his plaid pajama pants. His hands run up through the damp hair that falls flat against his forehead in an attempt to give it a little volume but it's no use without his usual styling products. Peter slaps his palms on his cheeks, shakes his head and sends micro-drops of water sailing. He bounces in place, attempting to shake out the jitters his body has had trouble containing all day.
Peter pushes his contact lens case aside, gives himself one last glance over. He contemplates for a few seconds, biting the inside of his cheek. Peter sighs as he pulls the lenses off again, cradling them in his hands and blowing air through his lips.
Metal frames, thick lenses.
Couldn't have that spider fixed his vision while he was at it?
Okay, Peter's vision wasn't that bad. Maybe he could survive without the frames Peter felt altered his appearance so drastically (or at least, reflected more accurately the type of person Peter was in his spare time). Peter with Contacts was cool and confident - scaled back from the confidence he had while he was in his suit, but not as pathetic as he was back in high school. Peter with Glasses? Yeah, that guy looked deserving of wedgies.
He reaches for his phone to check the time (and make sure he hasn't left you alone for too long), but can't make out what the white numbers say through his cracked screen.
Okay, maybe it is pretty bad.
Peter sighs, picks up the mess he'd made pre and post shower, hyping himself up one more time before opening the door and flipping the light switch off.
Peter pads down the hallway and peers his head around the corner into the small living room. He squints and can just barely make out the top of your head sitting on his couch.
Even though he can't see you very well, Peter's heart makes a funny feeling in his chest, even through the eye strain.
It's like you can feel Peter's eyes on you (which, you probably can - Peter is working overtime to try and make out the details of you) because you sit a little straighter and turn your head. Peter pushes his glasses on just in time to see you smile. And then grin.
"You wear glasses?"
Your voice is curious, not at all condescending, though Peter can hear the smile in your voice as you come up to meet him.
"For the aesthetics," Peter grins, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms in an attempt to make you believe the false sense of confidence he's putting up. It's stupid, really, but a tiny piece of Peter thinks someone as consistently perfect as you should be with someone who is equally on par. And, at the moment, Peter feels like he's letting you down.
You stand close to Peter, too close (his heart can't stop fluttering and his breath has caught in his throat). Peter fights the urge to pull you close to him. Too much, too soon, though he'd really like to kiss you right about now.
You try to contain your smile, a part of you still not quite believing that you've been so consistently guilty of making Peter Parker flustered.
Your fingers gently pull Peter's glasses off with a glint in your eye and Peter frowns at the sudden loss of sight - only because he doesn't want to miss looking at you from so close.
"For the aesthetics, huh?" You grin, turning the glasses to measure the thickness of Peter's lenses. Your suspicions about the strength of his prescription are confirmed by the way Peter's eyes are squeezed together as he looks at you.
"A hundred percent," Peter persists, opening his eyes normally and looking straight at the blurred lines of your face.
You take a step back and flash your phone at Peter, tiny words melted into a block of black. Peter instinctively squints and leans forward, trying to distinguish what the small screen said.
"You're like a grandma," you laugh, fully now.
"You should feel horrible for making fun of the elderly." Peter's arms drop, reaching for his glasses with an easy smile. But you move your hands away and Peter's hands catch on the crooks of your arms as you carefully place Peter's glasses back on his face, taking care to place them behind his ears as comfortably as you can. Your fingers graze against Peter's hair, still damp from his shower, gently moving a few stray pieces back into place.
"Well, you can't go to sleep like that," you murmur. "You'll get sick."
"So I guess we have time to kill?" Peter asks, hoping the two of you will sit down for a movie - or anything that'd keep him close to you, really.
"I guess we do," you grin, hands falling to Peter's shoulders, savoring the feeling of his hands on you, unable to help the craving you have for more.
"Pete?"
"Hmm?" Peter is partially entranced, melted like chocolate with the sweet sound of that little nickname coming out of your mouth. His eyes flicker and he's trying not to stare at your lips, bottom lip caught in his mouth in anticipation.
"Could I put my stuff in your room?" You ask sweetly, trying not to laugh at the way Peter falters, blinking quickly.
"Oh, yeah, sure," Peter nods frantically, hoping he's not as red as he feels.
You bite back your grin as Peter stays there, not moving until you do, sweet brown eyes slightly magnified by his glasses. Oh, but it'd be so cruel to deny him.
You press a quick kiss to the corner of Peter's mouth. It's a little shy and you turn away immediately to grab the overnight bag you'd packed. Two pairs of cheeks are red and grateful for the excuse of it, trying to shake off the little bit of nervousness the two of you still have around each other. It's a little strange, neither of you quite used to having someone around to love so freely. It's new, too, both of you still a little afraid to do something that would scare the other off, each of you knowing you'd never be the one to run off.
But this tiny fear that lives in both of your brains is what had Peter picking over his appearance earlier and is what makes him nervous now as he leads you down the hall to his room. He'd cleaned it thoroughly, considering hiding all his trinkets and trophies, ended up shoving things that had littered his shelves into his closet.
Peter takes a breath before opening his creaky door, smiling as he welcomes you in, hoping you somehow wouldn't notice - or maybe, wouldn't care to ask about - any of the posters or books or medals or figurines that made Peter, Peter. He was partially embarrassed and entirely nervous about sharing more of himself with you. After all, Peter was an expert at shutting people out and not too great at letting them in.
He doesn't know if he's relieved or even more anxious as you stare in awe, bag abandoned near his bed. It's clear you're taking in every detail of Peter's room, eyes not missing a single decoration. Peter feels as if he's being dissected, fidgeting as he waits for you to finish your analyzing. He's about to suggest that movie when you walk over to the desk he has shoved against the wall. Peter doesn't think there's anything special about books and pencils, but you're touching the tops of the things on his desk with care and a fascination he doesn't quite understand.
You quietly move onto old trophies and medals Peter has displayed, only the ones he was proudest of.
"Princeton Math Competition? Wow, Pete." You only turn your attention to him momentarily, returning your eyes to the shelf with a grin.
Peter's heart flutters when you sound... impressed? It was an accomplishment he was proud of, but not something he went around telling strangers.
"Oh, that... that- that's old," Peter laughs, coming up behind you, sure now there'd be no chance of getting you to watch that movie.
"Tell me about it."
"W...what?" Peter laughs, glancing at you curiously.
"I wanna hear about it," you say genuinely, taking a seat on the edge of Peter's bed. "Tell me about it."
Peter doesn't have to tell you he's shocked for you to realize it, a small smile tugging at your lips as you look up at him. Peter's not sure he has the courage to ask why before you beat him, sensing his hesitancy.
"I wanna know everything about you Peter. I wanna hear about your math competitions. I want you to tell me what books you're reading. I wanna know what matters most to you," you shrug, face a little warm from the confession. You don't have too much time to be embarrassed before Peter is next to you, hands digging into the bed at your sides. His face is inches away, his breath warm on your lips.
"Please let me kiss you," Peter whispers.
"Please do," you whisper back, letting Peter take your face in his hands and pull you into a kiss. The surface you've chosen is a little unstable as the both of you shift around, neither of you quite able to let the other go until you're forced to, breathless and grinning.
Peter's glasses have fogged up and he groans, pulling them off exasperatedly. "God, I hate these things."
"Really? But you look so good in them," you comment innocently, picking up the frames and attempting to look through them, muttering something about how, wow, Peter is blind.
Peter's not paying attention, though, heart hammering in his chest. He takes you by surprises when he kisses you this time, glasses still in your hands as they rest against his chest.
"You're trouble," Peter says when he finally pulls away. "You're doing awful things to my heart."
"Should I make fun of you, then?" You tease.
"Oh, I think that'd make it worse."
"I didn't know you were into that."
Peter shoves you as you laugh, though he can't help but join you.
"I didn't know you were into nerds," Peter quips, letting you slide his glasses back onto his face - the ones that suddenly don't seem that bad anymore.
"Only the really pretty ones," you murmur, and really, how could Peter not kiss you for that one?
Peter tries to take his glasses off as your kissing grows heated, knowing they'll be useless when they eventually fog up anyway. But your hand stops Peter, lips puffy from plenty of kisses and still eager for more.
"Nuh-uh," you say, pulling Peter's hand back down. "Keep them on."
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spidernerdsblog · 1 year
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flexible
A/N : another blurb inspired by a prank video. Hope you like this. Let me know what you think.
Summary : you prank your boyfriend by putting him in the positions he puts you in during sex.
Pairing : Peter Parker x Reader
Warnings : mature content
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You were hanging out at Peter’s dorm room, sitting on the couch and scrolling through your social media accounts.
“Hey whatcha doing?” Peter asks, walking into the living room. You look up from your phone.
“Nothing, just watching this tiktok on some special yoga poses. Apparently only women can do these very easily.” It was a lie in the video the girlfriend was pranking her boyfriend by putting him in the positions he puts her in during sex.
“That’s rubbish, it just depends on your body’s flexibility.” Peter says.
“You think you’re flexible enough to do these?” a mischievous smirk plays on your lips as you raise an eyebrow baiting him.
“Babe look who you’re talking to. I’m spiderman, I'm flexible AF.” He states placing his hands on his hips with an air of confidence
Oh this is gonna be fun you thought, putting away your phone and standing up from the couch. “Ok let’s see how flexible you are.”
“Yeah, let's do it!” He says excitedly pumping his fist in the air. 
“For the first pose you need to lie down on your back.” You instruct as Peter goes to lie down on the floor. 
“Now bring your legs up” you tell him and he follows by lifting his legs up. “Yeah, just like that. Now spread them wide all the way”
“Like this?” He spreads his legs wide. 
“Yeah and then grab the back of your thighs and pull up.” Holding by the thighs Peter pulls his legs up to his chest and you bite your lip to hide a smile.
“Do you feel it?” You ask.
“Kinda.” He replies.
God he’s so innocent you thought laughing silently to yourself deciding to carry on with the next position.
“For the next pose, turn on your side and bend your knees.” Peter follows your directions and turns on his left side. “Now lift the top leg up.” 
He lifts his right leg up as you hum in approval. “Yeah, as high as you can.” 
“Ooh I can feel this!” He tells and you purse your lips to keep the giggle from slipping out of you.
“Good now stand up.”
“This one is a bit rough, it's called the bunny hop. So you gotta squat down to your feet.” You explain as he squats down.
“Yeah great, now jump up and down.” Peter starts to hop on his feet. “No, no your feet should be on the ground just move your hips” he does as told and you swear to god watching him do that sent you on the verge of losing all control and laughing out like a maniac.
You quickly schooled your features and said. “Ok so for the last one get on the couch on your knees. Grab on the backrest.”
Peter gets on the couch kneeling and holds onto the backrest as you lift his left leg.
“Now lift this leg up and stick your ass out.” Just then Harry decides to stroll into the living room.
“Looking great Parker.” He opens the refrigerator to grab a beer bottle. “You guys taking a trip to the wild side? Should have asked me would’ve been happy to help.” He says while opening the bottle. Understanding finally dawned upon Peter as he jumped out of the couch with a mortified expression and you burst out laughing.
“Oh my god Y/N! You’re such an evil.” He cried out as he thought of all the sex positions you made him do. 
“You don’t have a problem when you put me in those positions.” You tease both of your faces red yours from laughing too hard, his from embarrassment as he stomped back to his room.
“Always wanted to peg that ass.” Harry says, eyes focused at the open door of Peter’s room. 
“Shut up Harry!” Peter yells from his room. Chuckling Harry takes a sip of his beer and saunters off to stand beside you, handing you another bottle.
“Pussy.” He mumbles and turns to you with a sultry look. “The offer still stands, you know. Just like I said before you’re welcome to watch…” he eyes you up and down. “Or join.”
Your lips curl into a smirk as you regard him with narrowed eyes. There have been quite a few times where Harry had openly admitted he’s attracted to both of you suggesting you guys should try doing threesome. “I’ll give it a thought.” You say clinking your bottle to his and take a sip.
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9K notes · View notes
devilfic · 6 months
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❝late-bloomer❞
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plot: you've never been kissed before. on a completely unrelated note, what if your best friend offered to be your first? pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: post-tasm 2, gwen stacy mention, angst, self-deprecating thoughts about being undesirable and insecurity in love, best friends to wouldn't you like to know, eventual fluff, attempts at andrew garfield accurate rambling, he definitely talks you through it I mean who said that. words: 4.3k.
a/n: entirely self-indulgent because I wrote this after crying over being a late-bloomer for an hour ahahaha
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Peter is reading something for research when you suck in a breath and finally ask, "What was your first kiss like?"
You hear his voice die in his throat. The small whispering of test results and calculations fall short, but you don't dare to look back. You're hunched forward so he won't see the way your eyes burn and brim with tears unshed because if he did, he'd ask about it and then you'd really start crying. Instead, you busy yourself with your phone, idly scrolling as if your question was pure curiosity alone.
You watch his ankles uncross, hear him sit up and then lean against the headboard again, fumbling for your train of thought, "Uh... sticky, 'cause I was six," Peter laughs, "You should know. You're the one who kissed me."
No matter how many times he tells you this, you can't remember the day you'd been so bold as to plant one right on Peter Parker's lips. You felt like you'd remember that, but you'd been such an impulsive child back them. Bolder. Thicker-skinned.
But Peter remembers, and so does Aunt May who swears up and down that she'd caught it on camera ("If only I could find that damned photo album"). You're the only one who doesn't. It's like it never happened, "No, God... no. I mean like your first real kiss."
"Like with tongue?" You hear the humor in his voice and even your sullen mood doesn't stop you from smacking his knee. "I dunno what you're talking about. That kiss was real to me."
"I'm serious, Pete."
He hums. You're so, so tempted to look back and see what he's thinking, but it would give you away too easily. "It was... it was a kiss. I mean, Gwen- you know. You know. I was crazy about her. I didn't think I just... kissed her."
"How did it feel? Do you know?"
"I felt like I needed to do it. I felt like if I didn't, I'd throw up. Not actually, just... like I'd explode with all the feelings I had for her."
Your finger hovers over a tweet. In your wondering about that feeling of almost nearly exploding, you try to picture that rooftop kiss that Peter had relayed to you between classes, with hushed whispers and childish laughter. It was windy, and I was breathless, he'd said, and I wanted to lay myself bare. And I just... pulled her in. Shot a web and swept her up and kissed her. I think I've lost my mind. You remembered pressing your back against the school lockers to cool yourself as you imagined the scene, the steps it took for you to settle the uneasy churn in the pit of your chest. The euphoria and panic upon realizing that your Peter was growing up.
You felt overwhelmed just imagining it. You barely hear Peter ask why you want to know. "No reason. Was just curious."
You think that Peter accepts that as good enough reason because the room is silent again. You keep scrolling, keep taking subtle deep breaths to keep the tears at bay. You see a picture of a couple on your timeline and scroll faster.
A few minutes of peace pass before Peter broaches the subject again, "What about you?"
"Hm?"
"I don't think you've ever told me about your first kiss."
Your shoulders tense. No good effort hides the strain in your voice, "I haven't?"
A beat passes. You glance over your shoulder and see Peter staring right at you, his lips upturned in a small, resting smile, but his eyes are inquiring. He's trying to read you. Perhaps he's just noticed the heavy cloud hanging overhead. "Nope." He pops the "P". He's waiting.
You could lie. You could say it was Flash Thompson who stole it, mention that field trip to the zoo in middle school when he'd sneaked next to you at the peacock exhibit and pestered you about you and Peter. Peter wouldn't question Flash about it. Even if they'd made amends, any conversation about him would send him over the edge with memories of his childhood bully and how much he pitied you for having your first kiss with him. And all of you were far too old now; Flash Thompson had gone to another state to play football the minute he got his diploma. It'd be so inconsequential, such an easy lie.
But the longer it takes you to deliberate on it, the worse it makes you look. You should've offered up an answer easily, jovially, unbothered. It should be inconsequential. Anything more and Peter would call your bluff because he knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes.
At some point, you feel the brush of a lone finger at the base of your spine and it startles you. Peter's slipped his finger under your shirt, stroking along the middle of your back, "I won't laugh. If that's what you're thinking." He says softly.
Of course Peter wouldn't laugh at you. As much as your relationship was teasing, he knew where you were tender.
But it wasn't laughing you worried about.
"I know." You say, in lieu of a real answer. You fear you've given yourself away.
Now there are two fingers stroking your skin, "You don't... you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," but you can hear the discomfort in his voice when he says it, like the thought that it's something you don't want to tell him concerns him, "it's up to you."
Just lie. Your breath shudders and immediately you regret it. There's no way he hadn't heard that.
Before you can recover, you're feeling the heat of his entire hand on your back now as it slips further up, as he sits up in bed beside you and rests his chin on your shoulder. The closeness of his breath makes you feel claustrophobic all of a sudden, "Hey, hey. I'm sorry. Did I push? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
You struggle to shake your head, but now your eyes are burning again and you don't think you can stop the tears this time, "You didn't." You insist.
"You're crying, bub," he laughs (not mockingly, never mockingly, never when you cry) and reaches a thumb up to brush away the first warm tear, "what's wrong?"
There's a million things you could say. I've never been kissed before, I don't know what it feels like to be longed for like that, I want to be longed for like that, why haven't I been longed for like that? But it all feels so heavy. Peter picks his chin up to kiss your shoulder and that really does it, "It never happened."
Peter's lips still against your skin. Their warmth slowly peels away, though you feel his breath ghost over the curve of your bone, "What hasn't?"
"A kiss. A first kiss, Peter. I've never had one."
"That's..." Peter sounds almost shocked, disbelieving. He never picks up that thought.
You turn your head away and toss your phone onto the bed, no longer interested in pretending you could distract yourself with anything else. You try to shrug your shoulder out from underneath Peter's mouth but he's quick, the hand at your back locking around you and you can't escape him even though you want to, even though you need to get away from his sweet smile and lovely heartbeat that thuds a little faster against your side.
It was already so much to tell him you hadn't had your first kiss yet, to admit to your best friend who—despite popular Midtown High opinion—has always been so irresistible to lovers, that you haven't gone as far as something so... simple. Something teenagers running your old stomping grounds have probably experienced ten times over by now. You don't think you can handle his pity too, "Peter, please."
"There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. Everyone moves at their own pace."
You hiss through your teeth. You don't mean to, but the spite overwhelms you like red hot heat for a minute, "It's easy to say that when you've done it already."
You catch Peter's eye and immediately regret it. His untamed brows are drawn together, expression more analyzing than pitying. Even though you're brimming with feelings, he seems as if he's trying to wade through them, search for the gnarled root at the center of it all.
Then, and he says this so carefully that the meaning takes a moment to catch up with you, "There's nothing wrong with you."
It's the sincerity that does it. You shove his hand off of you, jerk away from him in a scramble to stand, but Peter is fast and lithe and he's always been two steps ahead of you even before the bite. He's up on his feet before even you are, coming to stand in your way when you go to grab for your bag, "Peter, move."
"Look, can we... can we talk about this?"
"I really don't want to. Move."
"Why are you shutting me out?"
"Because I want to go home. Move."
"Is it because of what I said?"
"Yes!" You blurt, growing frustrated the longer he blocks your path, "yes. Because I'm sick of being told there's nothing wrong with me when clearly..." Your voice tapers off, afraid to give him the reason he needs to worry about you, "Please. I'm just tired. It'll go away on its own, it always does, I just can't be here right now."
The standoff between you two lingers, feels like you might have to fight him just to escape. It takes everything in you just to keep eye contact with him and not burst into tears.
Peter clearly doesn't want to let you go. You can see that genius brain of his running every possible scenario in his mind in which he convinces you to stay, cry it out, leave happier than you came. None of them come soon enough. You brush past him when he realizes he's got nothing, and even the hand that grabs for you is halfhearted, shrugged off with little force.
"I'll see you later, Pete."
You let his front door shut on its own.
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It hasn't been great.
What typically took a few hours to shake off had settled over you like a dark cloud ever since you'd stormed out of Peter's place. Even though you texted him like everything was fine (and dodged any phone calls so he wouldn't hear the truth with those freakishly good best friend senses of his), you had yet to see him again. Had yet to let yourself be seen.
You told yourself that it was just you missing Peter, and you believed that to be true, but you also believed that when he looked you in the eye and told you "there's nothing wrong with you", you hadn't been prepared for the nakedness of it all. He'd dug deep, right to the source. That kind of thing was hard to move past.
So you avoided him. If he came by your place, you pretended you weren't home. If he showed up at your work to take you to coffee, you lied and told him you had plans with a coworker. It had been several days now and you felt more and more cowardly by the minute.
It was Peter. Of all people, it was Peter. Your best friend. You could tell him anything (most things, some kept a little closer to the heart). You should be able to.
And it was silly. Being embarrassed about not kissing anyone. Plenty of people were in the same boat as you and they didn't ice their best friend out about it.
Ugh, now you were just making yourself feel worse.
You'd had enough. You'd end this pity party today. As you make your way through your apartment door, you promise yourself that after you've showered, after you've made yourself a filling dinner, after you've settled into bed, you'd call Peter and ask him to meet for pizza this weekend. You'd talk like civil adults who understand that life isn't a race. You'd share your couch, laugh about the whole thing, and maybe, just maybe, the hollowness in your chest that longed for someone's desire to fill it would finally-
He's sitting in your kitchen.
Legs dangling off the island, mask rolled up to his nose, and a spoon clattering out of his mouth and into a bowl of ice cream. Your front door shuts gently behind you.
You stare at each other for a few seconds. Then you glance through your bedroom door, cracked open just enough for you to see the breeze rustling your curtains. You turn back to Peter, who's cleaning off his bottom lip of raspberry sorbet. "Did you climb through the window? You have a key."
Peter sets the bowl down beside him, shrugs, "You weren't returning my calls."
Your shoulders sag and you drop your things to the floor, "Peter-"
"No, no," you watch him slide off the countertop and bounce over to you, and the nearness you aren't prepared for makes you back away an inch or two, "No Peter. I'm not Peter. I'm Spider-Man. See?" He gestures to the suit.
You reach your hand up and pinch his exposed cheek, then narrowly avoid his teeth before he tries to nip you, "I'm not in the mood. I said I'd call you later, I'm just... busy."
"Busy avoiding your best friend."
You can feel him trail after you as you walk away, beginning to undress. He catches your coat when you throw it toward the couch and hangs it up all neat on a hook. He kicks your shoes to a wall and tugs your belt from your fingertips once you've undone it. Then, unexpectedly, he hooks said belt around your waist and yanks you back to face him.
The momentum throws you fully into his chest but he's sturdy, unmoving as you grip his shoulders and give him the most hostile look you can muster. You attempt to wiggle out of the trap but he pulls the belt tighter, forcing you closer, and then you start to panic as the space between you both disappears, "I haven't been avoiding you, I just needed space." You quickly explain.
"And I get that," he admits, "but you scared me. I've never seen you like that before. Not with me. Not ever."
Of course he hadn't. It was why you kept all of this a secret in the first place. Because you knew he'd worry, and you knew that there would be nothing he could do to fix it. Not like he usually could.
"It was a... brief lapse in self-esteem. That's all. You're making it into a bigger deal than it should be."
"It's not a big deal?"
"No! That's what I keep trying to tell you."
"So it doesn't matter at all."
"Correct."
"Right."
"It's just an arbitrary milestone that means nothing." You grip the leather of your belt but you're nothing against his superhuman strength. Pleading with your eyes, you do your best not to slip back into that vulnerable place all over again. Peter made you feel safe to do that. Way too safe to do that. "I promise. I'm not avoiding you."
You get sick of staring into the whites of his mask and so you grab the edge of it and pull it up to his hairline, little tufts of curls poking out as his face is fully revealed to you. You stare into those sharp, probing eyes of his, forcing yourself to stand the test of Peter Parker's perception.
Suddenly, you're released.
You stumble back a bit, the belt clanking against the floor, as Peter throws his arms up in defeat, "Alright, alright. I get it. I should've let you breathe the other night. I was just worried, is all."
You smile, "And I appreciate that."
Peter quickly glances at you and then away, making an exaggerated show of kicking imaginary dust off the floor. "First kisses really mean nothing then, huh?"
"Zilch. Nada."
"So... doesn't matter when it is, who it is..."
You watch him carefully, "If this is about when we were six-"
"No, no, I know that didn't count. You don't even remember it," his face contorts in a wince, "I was just thinking. Something."
Your eyes narrow, "Uh-huh."
"Well, I mean, is that why? Because you don't remember it? Or... is it because it was me?"
"The kiss?" Peter blows a raspberry, looking more bashful by the second, and nods without looking at you. "It's... it's because we were six. And we didn't know what we were doing. I was just mimicking what we saw. We didn't know anything."
"And now we do."
"Yeah. What are you getting at, Pete?"
He sits on the back of your couch and kicks his feet out in front of him. "If all that matters is that we both know what we're doing, and a first kiss is just a meaningless milestone to you, then I thought that maybe we could give it another go. You know. So when a real kiss comes along that actually means something, you'll have an idea of how it's supposed to go."
You're six years old again.
You and Peter Parker are sitting in the dirt, mouths covered in sticky ice cream that the summer sun melted right up. You're both talking about Flash Thompson's trip to Florida and the hilarious sunburn he came back with when you spot an elderly couple across the park, pressing their mouths together over and over.
You're looking over at Peter and asking about it, sure it couldn't possibly feel good, and he's telling you that when Uncle Ben kisses May good morning in the kitchen he always looks away because it's gross.
And you're thinking... you start thinking something.
You're thinking it would be funny—that Peter would hate you for it, but you're just so curious—and you're pressing your lips to his so quickly that he doesn't get a chance to pull back before you're giggling in the grass. And May's voice flutters in the background, a shrill and delighted, "I caught that!" that makes you both turn tail and run toward the swings.
Peter's still staring at you, waiting.
Part of you feels like it's pity. Like he doesn't want you to feel bad about yourself. Like he doesn't know how else to fix it, because he has to fix it. He has to fix everything. He has to be your hero.
But the other part? A restless and selfish part wants to take it; it's curious.
You take a step forward, the two of you watching each other, waiting to see if the other might back out at the last second. He stays exactly where he is, legs parting slowly, and the silent invitation makes you feel hot under the collar.
When you're standing between them, you feel his knees bump your legs on either side, his hands planted firmly into the couch cushions. You notice the grip he has on them, "Are you sure?" You pause.
Peter tilts his head in that strange, spider-like way. As if he cannot fathom why would you ask such a thing, "Of course. I'm the one who offered."
Your hands shake as they consider where to put themselves, and you get about halfway to his shoulders before he takes them and places them on either side of his face, mumbling something about how it might help you feel more in control, quell your nerves a bit.
Peter's cheeks feel so warm in your hands, and you can feel each swallow he makes the longer you take in his expression. "Should... I move in first? Or..."
He laughs, short and high-pitched, "I guess I can go first."
You know you're supposed to close your eyes, but as he comes in close, you can't help but keep them lidded, taking in every twitch of his mouth as he inclines his neck, shuts his eyes, and kisses you.
Your brain reacts a half-second after his lips touch yours. You've probably stopped breathing, and you have to force your lips to unstiffen so that you could actually feel him. His lips are a little wet—he'd been rolling his bottom lip between his teeth since he'd sat down—and they taste faintly of raspberry. They're not cold though, and the feeling isn't unpleasant.
You don't know how to react to it, don't know if you should move or not, and so instead you curl your fingers into the silk of his nape and wait for the pounding in your chest to stop.
You feel him mouth at your bottom lip just once, and then pull back. "How'd that feel?"
You recall the sensations that went through your brain (all that it can recall anyway, when Peter's looking at you like that), "Slimy...?"
Peter's face falls, and then he bursts into laughter, shakes with the force of it, and drops his head on your shoulder. "There's got to be a better word than that."
"I don't know! I was just thinking about the feeling."
"I don't want to know what it felt like, I want to know how it made you feel. Did you like it? Hate it?"
"I don't know. I'm- I'm nervous."
"Hey, that's okay," his hand rubs your hip, warming the skin there, and you find yourself leaning into it for comfort, "everyone is their first time."
Peter is so, so gentle. Your heart feels like it might give out, but a little less now that it's over and he's not looking at you in disgust. You don't know what you expected, but... this was better. By far. That part of you that felt selfish takes over again, "Can we try again?"
His eyes widen a bit, but he's immediately nodding, "Okay. Yeah. Okay. We can try as- as many times as you want."
You nearly choke on your spit. "Can we?" Your voice comes out a meek whisper.
Peter nods. He brings his legs in so that he's sitting properly now. "Of course. You wanna move me? I can sit somewhere else. Or you can sit if you want."
"No, I like you here," you say, feeling your stomach tighten when his thighs lock against your legs, "um. Is there anything I can work on? How did I feel?"
"Warm. Soft. Just try to loosen up, alright?"
You force yourself to release the tension in your body and move in first this time. Images of rom-com kisses flood your brain, how you memorized their rhythms and the placement of their mouths. You try your best to mimic it, make it feel as good as it seemed to look, when you feel one of Peter's hands slip behind your head and angle you away just a hair, "You're tensing up," he warns, making you pause, "it doesn't have to be perfect. It's just you and me. Breathe for me, okay? Turn your brain off."
You feel your stomach flip a bit, and nod along mindlessly. You try again.
This time, it feels a little different. Not wet or stiff, even if it is still awkward. It almost overwhelms you when, as you're mouthing at Peter's lip, he returns the favor, but you keep your brain empty. You can't focus on the details because it won't feel right. You can't focus on the way it looks because it won't feel right.
So you focus on Peter. You focus on the hand on your hip drawing you closer and the hand on your neck rubbing circles into the knot there. You focus on the feeling of his suit under your pinkies. You focus on the small hum he makes when, with quite a bit of building up to it, you pass your tongue over his.
Almost as soon as you do it, you pull back. Peter is flushed and it makes the beauty marks on his skin stand out more. His eyelashes flutter, a half-smile on his lips that are kissed red. By you.
You open your mouth to ask but he beats you to it, "I think you've got it now... yeah. Definitely." You're so relieved you sigh, sagging away from him, but he catches your hands before they can can leave his face completely and holds them in his lap. You don't dare move them. "How about you? Did you like it?"
You nod, speechless.
Peter laughs and squeezes your hands in his, "Okay, good. Good. I love you, you know? I know it doesn't... replace what you're looking for, but you're wonderful. You're insane and funny and stunning and there's nothing wrong... you know? You're perfect. Take it from your loser best friend who had to get bit by a radioactive spider to get to first base."
You snort, "I mean, if that's all it takes..."
Peter shakes his head and stands, but his hand remains on your neck as you follow his eyes to his full height, "So, we good? No more ignoring me?" You bite your lip, nodding your head. Peter smiles. "Good, cause I'm starving and I need you to split a pizza with me."
"You just polished off a tub of ice cream and you're still hungry?"
"I'm a growing spider, honey. And I missed you." Without warning, the hand on your hip hooks around your back and hoists you into his body, throwing you off balance once more, "I'll swing us there and cover cheese sticks too. Sound good?"
You know you don't have much room to argue when he's being so generous. And not when he's beaming at you, so genuinely relieved to have you back that it would knock you off your feet if he wasn't holding you up.
He was right; this wouldn't replace what you were looking for, but it gets pretty damn close. Closer than you expected, actually. But it's just the adrenaline. This didn't change anything.
Did it? You stare up at Peter.
"We can try as many times as you want."
You might have a very different problem than you started with.
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taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes
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donald4spiderman · 2 years
Note
could you,,,,,possibly write,,,,,,telling tsam Peter you’re pregnant,,,,,or him as a dad,,,,,
EXPECTING THE UNEXPECTED
tasm!peter x fem!reader blurb
tw: mentions of sex and pregnancy, not proofread
PLEASE REBLOG
masterlist
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THE SHORT, WHITE STICK STARED BACK AT YOU, two bright pink lines shifting your entire world. You’re pregnant. Fuck.
You and Peter have been steady for five years, but you never expected to get pregnant before you were married. You’ve been on birth control your entire relationship, but sometimes that isn’t enough.
“Shit. Shit. Shit!” you groan to yourself. “Fuck. I need to call Peter.”
You scramble to dial his number. The line rings once before he answers.
“Hey, baby. Is everything all right?” he asks, tone sweet, reminding you how lucky you are to be in this situation with him. He’s so loving and supportive—you know you’ll never have to worry about disappointing him.
“Yeah, yeah, everything’s all good,” you hum, “could you just, uh, get home as soon as possible. You don’t have to worry. I’ll just explain it to you when you get here. Just, can you please come home.”
“I’ll be right there. Hold tight, baby,” Peter says, easing your worries.
“Thank you. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
You suddenly overwhelmed by intense emotions. You’re pregnant. There’s a child inside of you that’s going to grow and they’re your responsibility now. You want to keep the baby: Peter and you are in love with a stable income, you could provide them with a good life. It dawns on you just how much your world will change.
You hear the jingle of Peter’s key twisting into to the door knob.
“I’m home,” he exclaims, beckoning you to the living room.
“Hey,” you breath, face flushed.
“Hi,” he smiles, bending down to place a kiss on your forehead, “what’s going on in your pretty mind?”
“I-I just-I’m-here!” you place the pregnancy test firmly in his palm, tears welling in your eyes.
Peter gawks down at you, “Y-you’re...”
You nod, “Yes. I’m sorry.” You begin to sub uncontrollably into his chest. You don’t know if you’re extra emotional because your pregnant, but Peter doesn’t care. He rubs a soothing hand on your back.
“Hey, hey. Look at me,” you glance up at him with teary eyes, “this is great—I’ve always wanted to be a dad.”
“R-really?”
“Yes,” he smiles, “I love you so much, (Y/N). I’ve always dreamt about spending my life with you. We’ve been together for years, it’s not bad timing to start a family now.”
“You’re not upset?” you sniffle, “it’s just so unexpected and I—“
Peter stops your worrying by placing a gentle kiss onto your lips, “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, baby. I love you, and I already love our baby, okay? You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“You’re gonna be a great dad,” you say, hugging him tightly, thankful for having the best man in the world as your boyfriend.
“You’re gonna be an even better mom—the best mom. Our baby is so lucky to have you.”
“I love you,” you repeat.
“I love you more.”
requests are open!!!!
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Stress reliever
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Summary: Peter Parker needs to relieve some stress 🤷‍♀️ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
W!: harsh language, oral (fem receiving), mature content, MINORS DNI
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Peter storms into her room after school.
“Can I eat you out?” He asks, he looks frustrated and tired, the way he asked that question was hastily, almost like he’d been waiting to ask that question since the moment he woke up. 
“Huh?” She questions, she’s taken aback by his words, especially since he was acting completely normal today in school, what had gotten into him?
“Can I eat you out? Please?” He repeats, he looks at her expectantly and she laughs. “Well I’m not gonna turn down that offer” she chuckles and he throws his bag down on the floor of her room, quickly kicking the door shut as he slides off his shoes. “What’s gotten into you? Why do you wanna, well, you know” she questions. He’s never like this, he normally eats her out before sex. It’s never like this.
“I need to relieve some stress” he slips off his hoodie and throws it on the floor before laying next to her on her bed and placing a kiss to her lips. She smiles into the kiss, her heart racing. He fondles with her breast and her hand finds its way into his hair, tangling itself in the silky brown mess.
His hand moves from her chest and trails its way down to her lower stomach pressing lightly. She gasps as she feels his hand on her heat. “Fuck,” she gasps out and pulls away from the kiss. He sits up and crawls in between her legs pulling off her shorts and pressing his thumb against her clothed clit. She gasps and squeezes her eyes shut. He looks at her as he slides her underwear off. She can’t help but smile and bite her lip as she sees her boyfriend between her legs. She props her legs up on her feet to give him an easier access to her pussy. He snakes his arms under her legs, resting his large hands on her waist before he buries his head in her pussy, licking and sucking her clit, tasting her juices. 
“Fuck!” She covers her mouth with her hands and her hands snake their way into his hair, pushing down on his head lightly. He emerges from her pussy, lightly rubbing her clit with his thumb. “Can you believe Mr. Harrington sent me to the principals office for showing up to his class late?” He says as he rubs her clit gently. “Ah~”
“Even though this was like, my first time showing up to his class late in, what, two fucking months! He’s so fucking selfish-“ he begins to rub her faster “F-fuck! Ah,” “And not only that, we had to have an emergency Decathlon meeting because Abe forgot to send in our paperwork to qualify for the tournament this year!” He slows down rubbing her clit, but he moves his hand down to her hole, “Ah, oh, gosh!” “So now, fucking Cindy and I have to redo all of the goddamn paperwork!” He pushes a finger inside of her “Oh fuck,” “Abe’s a cunt, I hope he dies. He could’ve just told somebody else to do it” “mm~ mmhm” “Like, if you know you have fucking badminton practice the same time you received the email to do the paperwork, then you could’ve just told Harrington that you had badminton! Can you believe that!?” “Mm~ y-yeah baby, unbelievable,” he begins to quicken the pace of his finger inside of her, and she gasps, “Oh! Gosh! Peter!” “Decathlon has me so tired, M’sorry that I don’t hang out with you much anymore because of it,” “N-No, it’s, ah, it’s f-fine” he sticks another finger inside of her, “Oh! And also, and especially this, is what ruined my day even more! I was in line for lunch and I decided to buy a jell-O, because I don’t usually have enough money to buy it, but they raised the price by 3 goddamn dollars!” “Ah! Fuck,” “I know, right! I wanted to cry, I just wanted some fucking jell-O,” “oh gosh! Peter,”
He quickens the pace of the fingers inside of her and buries his head in his pussy, his tongue circling around her clit, “and the lunch lady told me that I was short, but she basically yelled it out for everyone and their mom the hear!” “Fuck! Peter!” “Oh, sorry” he licks her clit quickly as he fingers her pussy. “Oh! Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum!” “Cum for me baby,” he says as he slurps up all of her juices, and he quickens the pace of his fingers inside of her, “Oh! Ah, I’m, I’m cumming!” Her back arches off the bed as he cums, hot liquid oozing out of her and onto his fingers “good girl,” he praises her as he takes slows down the pace of his fingers and stops licking her.
“You’re so pretty when you cum,” he praises her as he watches her chest rise and fall, she asks “fuck, how stressed were you?” And he laughs, “did I make you cum that hard?” “Yes! I can’t feel my legs!” 
“Aw, I’m sorry, honey, I’ll make it up to you” he slips his finger out of her pussy and sucks on them slowly and seductively, as he stares at her, “You’re such a slut!” She says and he laughs, “I can’t help it, you taste so sweet”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I am SO sorry for that ending 😭 I could’ve done that better but hopefully you enjoyed the rest of it
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bellarkeselection · 2 years
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Friday Night Adventure
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Peter visits the reader and shows her the city at night from his view.
Staring at my window trying to see the stars I lay on my bed bored. I had planned on going over to my friend's house Gwen Stacey. But she said her father didn't want her going out at night since the city had become more dangerous. Part of me knew another reason her father was out tonight. He was patrolling the streets for Spider Man. Rolling over on my other side putting my back to the window I might just go to sleep until something knocked on my window glass. Flipping over a cheeky grinning Peter Parker is leaning in my window waving. "Parker, are you insane?" I whispered unlocking the window letting him inside.
"Maybe just a little when it comes to seeing you." He flirted flashing me a grin wearing his spider costume. He holds his mask in his hands sitting on the window seal. Sitting at the foot of my bed I shake my head at the young super hero, who also happens to be my boyfriend. We had started dating after he revealed to me that he was a superhero. He thought it was risky but I told him I wasn't going to break up with him over the possibility of a dangerous future. "You shouldn't be here. It's late, plus Captain Stacey is looking for you." I remind him when he sits beside me resting a hand to my cheek. "I had to see you though. I have a little suprise, will you come with me?"
Leaning forward I closed the gap between us kissing him. His hands cup my face gently kissing back. My hands ended up in his hair tugging on it deepening it where Peter breaks it breathing heavily. "As much as I want to keep this going. You'll miss your suprise baby." Wrapping my arms around his neck and resting my forehead against his I chuckled at him. "What's the suprise?" He pulls me to my feet pulling his mask back on and climbing out the window. He holds out an open hand for me where I reluctantly put it in his letting him wrap his arm tightly around my waist. Then with his other hand he shoots webbing out sticking it onto the nearest building swinging us out my window. "Peter!" I scream securing my arms tightly around his neck. He squeezes my waist shooting another web out of his hand. "I've got you, Y/n. I've got ya."
We swung from building to building until we reached the top of the tallest tower overlooking the city. Thankfully I was never afraid of heights so this is a beautiful sight to see. Peter removed his mask wrapping his arms around my waist hugging me from behind whispering in my ear. "This is the view I get every night. So look up and you can see the stars." Tilting my head up I smiled seeing he was right. I grew up in the countryside when I was little but when my family moved to the city I couldn't see the beautiful stars anymore. "I like the suprise, Spider-Man.." I whispered as the wind blows our hair around, throwing my arms around his neck again. Peter tilts his head down slowly mumbling against my lips. "There's a second part to this little suprise....I love you. I love you, Y/n L/n." I feel my cheeks turning red at his words slightly pulling away from our kiss. He sees the grin on my face when I return the kiss whispering up to him. "I love you too, Peter Parker. Spider-Man and all I love you."
Comments really appreciated ❤️
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literaila · 6 months
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i’ll tell you in the morning
tasm!peter x reader
summary:
“you’re going to fall through the couch.”
“the couch would never betray me.”
warnings: overly considerate peter, scheming reader, fluff and stuff
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*
“you’re supposed to be in bed.”
his voice rolls, like a click on a cassette, and you know that peter is not really there.
because it’s all a little blurry. his voice, the door opening, the feeling when he kneels down next to you, his breath hot in your ear.
it’s all some remanent of a dream. a brief moment where you might wake up, but decide not to.
“i’m serious,” his voice ebbs and flows, waving in and out, like your consciousness. “you know i don’t like it when you wait up for me.”
you groan and roll even further into the couch. your face is smushed, and your hair is a mess, sweaty because you’re drowning under every blanket in the house. it smells like cotton, and peter’s deodorant, and potato chips that you probably dropped through the cushions.
you dig your nose in deeper, trying to get back to that dream.
peters probably not actually there, you think, because if he was he would’ve kissed you awake. his hand would be lazily running through your hair, and his body would be pressed against yours. you would be cuddling by now.
real peter is much nicer than dream peter, who shakes your shoulder, albeit massaging you right afterward. “c’mon, bug, we’re going to bed.”
“sleeping,” you mumble, pulling away from him.
dream peter continues to try and wake you up, while you wonder—amidst the dream, no doubt—when real peter will be home. you want to be drowning in his collarbone instead of your own sweat.
there’s a kiss next to your ear. “you’re going to fall through the couch.”
“the couch would never betray me.”
“we’ll see if you’re saying that in the morning, when your neck is bent the wrong way,” he whispers, and rests his head against yours. you feel it as he breathes out, relaxes. almost like he’s purring into your ear.
so you keen into him, a bit awkwardly, considering that it’s his forehead. “why’d you wake me up?”
“you can’t sleep here.”
“c’mere,” you murmur to him, your hand wrapping around the back of his neck, fingertips just brushing his hair. “cuddle with me.”
“being cute isn’t going to stop me from moving you.”
“peter,” you try and push him away, “go to bed.”
“why are you out here?” his nose trails down your hair, to your neck. “it’s almost four in the morning.”
you ponder this, and decide that you don’t really remember what you were doing before you fell asleep here, with your hand shoved in the crook of your neck. “the beds cold,” you slur, head falling back into the cushions as you doze.
“that’s because all of the blankets are out here. why didn’t you turn the heat up?”
he’s playing with some baby hair by your ear now, trying to lull you to sleep, probably, because he loves you.
“i was waiting for you,” you whisper this like a prayer, “and now you’re here.”
“you waited in the wrong spot. i would’ve come to bed with you. there’s no room for me here,” he smiles when you finally turn your head towards him. he’s got a smudge on his nose, and his eyes are sunken in—aged from exhaustion.
“i know.”
you’re both whispering. trying not to wake that drowsy, lovesick part of yourself right now.
“hmm?” he leans into you, nose brushing your cheek. almost like he’s breathing you in. “what, bug?”
“i wanted to fall asleep with you.”
then his eyes are wide open, and he leans back, brows furrowed in a tight line. “i told you i was going out.”
you muse at his confused face, and lean back towards him. “i know. i didn’t know when you’d be home.”
“you could’ve called.”
“i’m not going to interrupt your repertoire with a burglar at midnight. it’s rude.”
“not to me.”
you tsk, and lean away, back into the pillow comforting you while simultaneously scheming to ruin your morning.
“you need more sleep than i do,” peter adds, trying to keep you awake with his sheer willpower, his hands squirm under your shoulders. “we’ve talked about this.”
“no, you threatened to tell my mom—“
“that’s not what i said,” peter interrupts, groaning into the sofa.
“that i wasn’t getting enough sleep. and i said that you could make your own decisions, but that i wasn’t going to stop waiting up for you.”
“it makes me feel bad,” he ignores your gentle protesting. “i don’t want to keep you up.”
“peter, it’s not like you’re out dancing with strippers.”
he laughs, unexpectedly. and you grin back at him, with a sheer conviction undiluted by any hints of remaining sleep.
“you’re up helping people. i don’t mind waiting for you,” you emphasize this by leaning in to kiss his forehead, tasting sweat and not minding at all.
“you’re going to be tired tomorrow. when did you fall asleep?”
you acknowledge your win for what it is, and sit up on the couch, looking around your apartment like you can’t remember where you are. “probably an hour ago. i didn’t know when you’d be home, and i waited a while, but then i moved to the couch so you’d have to wake me up if i fell asleep.”
“so this was an elaborate scheme, huh?” peter laughs at you as his teeth graze your cheek. his chaste kiss makes you warm.
“i learned from the best.”
peter chuckles against you, and the two of you sit like that for a moment. calculating each others breathing like there’s something you might miss, however brief.
and then you smile at him, and he smiles back. “bed?” he asks you, softly, fingertip running against the skin of your jaw. you nod.
his arms wrap around you as he picks you up, your head rested comfortably on his shoulder, legs wrapped around his waist.
“i’m leaving you on the couch next time,” he threatens as he walks, “just so you know.”
“then we’ll both wake up with sore backs. not just you.”
peter snorts. “i didn’t say i would be there.”
“like you can sleep without me.”
he doesn’t say anything to that, but you feel him murmur in your hair suspiciously.
peter sets you down on the bed softly, pushing your legs so you’ll lay down, then covering you with the comforter. he tucks you in like any average middle aged dad.
when you grin he nods, very satisfied with himself.
“i’m just gonna change,” he says, taking a step back.
“hurry. i’m tired.”
“now, look who’s talking,” he shakes his head, but moves swiftly to the bathroom. you hear it as he runs the sink, as he bangs his foot on something and curses, and when he pads back into the bedroom, looking like a young child sneaking out of bed in his pajamas.
you laugh. “where did you get those?”
peter looks down to himself. to the many cartoon styled spider-man’s dancing across his cotton pajama set. “what? this old thing.”
“i don’t think i can be seen in public with you if you’re wearing that.”
“we are in the privacy of our bedroom,” he points out.
“i don’t think i can be in the same room with you if you’re wearing that.”
peter shakes his head, pouting like he’s disappointed, but he slips the shirt off, a concession he’s apparently willing to make.
though you don’t doubt that there are ulterior motives to this move.
“c’mon,” you whine to him, “i’m cold.”
“you’re so needy.”
you roll your eyes, but sink into him as he shuffles from beside you, laying his head near yours. “you’re not coddling me.”
“i’m so very sorry, my dear,” he whispers, and wraps his arms around you.
“shh,” you nuzzle your nose into his neck, and murmur against his hot skin. “i want to go back to the dream i was having.”
peter must be laughing at you, you can tell, even slightly asleep, because something jostles you.
“what was it about?”
you smile against him, listening to his heart like a hymn you’re devoted to. “i’ll tell you in the morning.”
he whispers something, brief, a whisper in the quiet of the room. but you feel the words as he settles into the bed, his calloused hands running over your skin.
and you fall asleep; hands clutching the others heart.
*
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vivwritesfics · 1 year
Text
"I Know"
Peter Parker has the best girlfriend ever
1.1K
Peter Parker x Reader
I've been MIA for the longest time because the inspo just hasn't been there. But I've gotten away from university for a few days, and this is what came from my peaceful time alone
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"I'm so sorry, baby," said Peter. He stood on top of a building, watching a bank robbery happening opposite. A bag full of snacks and two pairs of his favourite pyjamas lay discarded beside him, and Peter made a mental note to pick it up later. The wind was biting, but Peter didn’t care. His attention was split evenly between his girlfriend and the bank robbery.
This was not the first time he had flaked on date night, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. He and his girlfriend both knew. But Peter Parker had the most understanding girlfriend in the world.
"It's okay, Pete," she said. Peter could picture her now, snuggled up in her bed, waiting to change into a pair of his pyjamas, with her snack basket filled and her laptop loaded up with a Christmas movie. "Go... save the world."
It wasn't quite saving the world, but she made Peter smile. She always made Peter smile. Y/N was the most understanding person in the world. "I'll be at yours as soon as I can. Don't open the chocolate without me."
After that, Peter had no choice but to hang up. The bank robbery had started to wrap up and Peter had to stop them. He put his phone in his bag, pulled his mask over his face, and swung down to the bank. "You guys have ruined my date night."
“What the fuck?” One of the bank robbers dropped his white bag filled with green notes and swung a bat at Peter.
It was cartoon-y, how these robbers were behaving. The white bags, the notes flying all over the place. Their ski masks weren’t masks at all, but unfolded beanies with the eyeholes cut out. “Wait, can I get a picture? My girlfriend is going to love this.”
***
Y/N’s family loved Peter. Somehow, he’d never been late to dinner with her parents. Either criminals decided to take the day off, to let Peter have his dinner, or for once somebody else was cleaning up the city in his stead.
But not tonight.
“I’ll be maybe ten minutes late,” he said as he swung through the city. His suit was discarded, but his tie was still around his neck.
Y/N had her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she put in a pair of earrings. Dinners like these were a big deal to her parents. The whole family dressed up fancy, all of her sibling’s partners were invited and they had at least three courses. “Pete, babe, it’s fine. I’ll cover you.” And, as she said it, she didn’t sound disappointed at all.
Peter really had the best girlfriend in the world. “Holy shit, I love you,” he said, only just noticing his tie. But it was too late to remove it now. “Please send me the cover story.”
They said their goodbyes (with Y/N begging him to stay safe) and went to do their things. Peter fought the bad guy, managing to keep his rather expensive tie intact. Y/N finished getting dressed for dinner and went downstairs to greet her parents.
Her siblings and their partners were already downstairs, drinks in their hands.
“There she is!” Called her brother as Y/N stepped into the room. He checked his watch and feigned a frown. “Not like that boyfriend of yours to be late, is it?”
With her hands clasped behind her back, Y/N rocked on her heels. “Actually, Peters gonna be late today,” she said, hoping they weren’t going to ask anymore questions.
“That Parker boy is never late,” her father said, “What’s holding him up?”
Before now, Y/N hadn’t thought of an excuse for Peter. She had just hoped they wouldn’t ask, and then he could’ve come up with his own backstory. (Peter had gotten good at that).
“Uhh…His house… caught fire? And his aunt… is in the hospital… with death?” oh yeah no this was not going well. “Oh! And the tire on his bike popped.”
Yes. That was very believable.
But nobody questioned it as Y/N sat beside her sister and her sister’s girlfriend. “He’ll be here soon.”
Her eyes shifted to the floor, which only made everything more believable. She pulled out her phone and sent Peter the cover story, just seconds before the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” She shouted, jumping up.
Racing to the front door, Y/N pulled it open to see Peter stood there, still sorting out his suit. “You are so lucky nobody else answered the door,” she said and buttoned up his shirt correctly. “I sent you over the cover story,” she whispered and kissed his cheek.
Pulling him into the house, Y/N pushed him towards her father. “Hello, Mr L/N! Sorry, I’m late, my tire burst.”
Suddenly, Y/N’s mother came running out of the kitchen. “Peter, my dear!” She shouted and pulled him in for a hug. “I’m so sorry to hear about May and your house. You can stay here for as long as you need!” She cried, running her fingers through her hair. He looked at Y/N with her brows furrowed. ‘Go with it’, she mimed. “How about we all go and visit May as soon as we’re finished with dinner?”
“Oh! Please, Mrs L/N. That’s not necessary.” Peter pulled away from his girlfriend’s mother and grabbed Y/N’s hand. “Can I have a word with you upstairs?” He asked her, and Y/N allowed herself to be pulled up to her bedroom.
As soon as the door was shut Y/N was wrapped around him. “I missed you,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek.
“Missed me so much you told your family that May was in the hospital?”
“And that your house burnt down,” she said quietly, laying her head on his chest. “I know I said I’d cover for you, but I’m not very good at it, Pete.” Her arms snaked around his middle, sitting beneath his blazer.
Peter’s phone suddenly buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and frowned once he looked at it. “Oh god, what is it?” Asked Y/N, looking up at Peter with wide eyes.
“Baby, I love you but, I’ve got to go. I swear this’ll-”
“It’s okay, Peter, I know.”
Peter kissed her. It was slow, yet oh so intense. One of those kisses that makes you gasp. “I have the best girlfriend in the world.”
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Fuck or Die
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a peter parker sex pollen fic
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pairing: peter parker x reader
summary: peter comes into contact with sex pollen and his best friend wants to take away the pain
NO MINORS!!!!
not edited
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“stay the fuck away from me. please,”
it had been a week since you’d seen your best friend, peter. he’d been away on a mission, along with a few other avengers.
being the baby of the team, you definitely weren’t told everything. or anything really, if it didn’t directly affect you.
“just tell me what is going on!” you screamed at the quarantined boy, voice muffled through the thick glass.
peter was crying at this point, an all consuming burn firing through his veins, predominately the veins down low.
“sweetheart come with me. your not helping by screaming at him,” tony tried peeling you from the hall, but you stood your ground
“why does no one tell me what’s happening? when are you guys going to stop treating me like a baby, i’m 18 for fucks sake!” now peter wasn’t the only one crying.
out of the corner of your cloudy vision you could see his form cowering in the corner, convulsing almost.
“please! he’s my best friend. i deserve to know what’s going on!”
“it’s not about us keeping information from you. it’s just that this is… sensitive.” stark’s brow wrinkled, stress emanating from his form.
this time when he pulled you away, tou didn’t fight.
sensitive?
what could possibly be sensitive enough that you can’t know why your best friend looks like he’s about to die???
once in the lab, you and the iron man sit down.
“look kid, something happened on our mission,”
“yeah no shit,” if looks could kill, stark would’ve murdered you months ago. but probably gotten wanda to resurrect you so his steely gaze could kill you again now.
“i’m serious. parker was doing recon in one of fisk’s bases while we fought his men outside. he found a thing… some sort of explosive gas. when he picked one up for closer inspection it erupted.” tony looked apprehensive, almost waiting for an eruption of his own.
“ok. i’m just gonna say it. sex pollen. it was sex pollen. there’s no way around it. peter exploded a sex pollen bomb.”
the way your jaw unhinged looked inhumane. “WHAT?” you gaped. “like, that weird shit from fanfiction? like the weird shit that makes someone fuck or die? are we in the fucking omega verse right now???”
“i’m going to pretend i know what the omega verse is,” the man clears his throat, “but uh, kind of? he won’t die, but unless he… y’know.. he’ll just kind of be in an unimaginable state of pain for the next,” he checks his watch, “22 hours.”
it took a minute to process the aforementioned information. peter had been affected by sex pollen? you guessed that explained his need to be away from you. but imagining your poor peter in pain for almost another day?
“so why aren’t you doing anything? wait that came out wrong.”
this was probably the most awkard conversation you’d had with tony, even after he caught you “making out” with brad in senior year.
“i meant to say, what’s being done to help him? surely there’s something. i know it’ll pass but fuck, i can’t live with myself knowing pete’s in that room hurting.” you felt a pit of guilt lounging in your gut.
wait it was guilt right? why does your guilt feel like it’s… lower… than it should be.
were you seriously fucking TURNED ON from thinking about your best friend being so horny that it hurts? well, if you worded it like that, yeah.
“we offered him… services. not from us obviously. like, paid services. or anything he wants. but he refused. something about ‘respecting women’ yada yada yada.” stark jests, but you can see the fatherly worry seeping out.
with out another thought, you leave tony in the lab and spring back to parker’s quarantine unit.
“pete you need to accept help! look at yourself” he was worse for wear, even since you saw him 10 minutes ago
his suit was half off his body, which was dripping with sweat. and as much as you tried to ignore it, a large bulge had appeared through the fabric.
he could barely meet your eyes, his own bloodshot, hair matted to his forehead.
“you know i can’t. i can’t control my strength like this. i could hurt someone.” the spider cried out
“not me,” your eyes finally lock. “you can’t hurt me. you know that. we’ve trained together. i’m stronger than you.”
your powers may have made your life a living nightmare, but the strength was definitely a plus. you had sparred countless times, and not once had he hurt you. or beat you for that matter.
“i- i can’t” his voice broke as his body convulsed once more, ungloved hands going to cover his dick.
“if you want to, you can. I’m here pete. I don’t want to see you like this. And i don’t want you to worry about all your moral shit. your not taking advantage of me. your not going to hurt me. i want this. i want to help you, if that’s what you want.”
silence. a few beats go by, before a small “please” meets your ears.
in a blink of an eye you slide your hand over the sensor, unlocking the door to his cell.
your heart broke to a million pieces seeing the broken boy. if you didn’t know better you would have assumed he was succumbing to a deathly injury.
“curtains. there’s curtains.” he gestures to blue hospital curtains that have the potential to cover the glass wall between them and the hall way.
as you pull the curtain, the last thing you see is a worried/disgusted/embarrassed tony. poor guy. knowing his ‘son’ and new recruit were about to get it on.
“FRIDAY, lock down and sound proof the floor once i get in the elevator.” tony yelled, mumbling something about ‘for the good of mankind’.
you drop to your knees next to peters warm frame. the restraint he used to not fuck you right there looked painful.
“If you want this, I want this. I would do anything for you spidey. even if it means fucking my best friend into oblivion,” you say to him, a strained chuckle leaving his chest.
“i won’t be able to stop. i would rather go through this a hundred times then hurt you or screw up our friendship.”
“you won’t. i can handle it. please fuck me pete.”
he turns to a rabid animal with the speed he meshes your lips. the carnal devouring of your face dials up your arousal, and he can smell it.
“wow. you’re fucking sick. getting turned on by your best friend in pain,” he mumbled into your neck, trailing teeth and tongue down your décolletage.
you couldn’t even form a response, to focused on the way his bear chest felt under your fingers, and the way his boner grinded into your crotch.
practised hands pop open the buttons of your shirt, and i clasp the bra you donned. thank god you wore a nice one today.
“mmm pretty bra. planning on fucking brad later?” the boy teased.
“only you. always you.” you grinded harder onto his cock, frustrated at the layers separating you.
“fuck i’ve always dreamt of fucking you. fucking you so good. so so good” a piercing cry leaves your lips as he bites your nipple, kissing it better after.
his tongue was magic, working its way all over your chest. he groped and grasped your breast, alternating one in his mouth, one in his mouth.
even with all his talk, you could see his facade fading.
“peter just fuck me. i know you need it.”
“but what about yo-“
“pete i’m soaked. i’m fine. i just want to make you feel better.” with this, he lets you take charge. he (attempts) to rip his suit off while you pull down your sweats, and eventually a lacy pair of panties.
a guttural groan leaves his lips when he sees the glistening mound before him, he goes to put his mouth forward, but you stop him, kneeling over his lap despite his whine.
“i told you. this is about you. making you feel better.” you laughed at his pathetic attempt at removing the sweat soaked suit.
you pull it down just enough to reveal his angry member. it was thicker than you were used to, longer as well, and a small wave of fear rolled through your stomach.
his dick was red, twitching and leaking. you could practically feel his pain just by looking at it.
he hissed when you slid him up your slit, soaking it with your juices.
“i’m sorry,” he whispered as he slammed your hips down onto him. the scream you let out would definitely surpass stark’s soundproofing.
tears stream down his face at the relief of your silk pussy embarrassing his dick. but he didn’t have long to revel in the comfort. he continued to slam into you with a brutal pace. the erotic wet sounds were enough to put porn to shame.
both of your faces contorted with the pleasure.
“fuck spider you’re fucking me so good. i wanna make you come. want your cum to fill my pussy so good.” his pace was so bruising that his groin pounded into your clit with every thrust.
you couldn’t warn him of the imminent coil about to burst as you gushed around his erection. no noise came out of your mouth except for the unholy moans and expletives.
something you never expected about pete, was his vocalness in bed. god, you would be imagining his noises for weeks to come, hand between your legs.
he was louder than you, which you didn’t think possible, though none of it was legible. his broken words were drowned out by his heavenly moans. with every thrust there came a new ‘ugh’, ‘ngugh’, and ‘fuhhh’.
and god did it get you going.
just listening to his groans had you verging on another orgasm. and he wasn’t too far behind.
peter kept repeating the words “soon” and “close”.
“god pete your so hot. so good to me. fucking me so good. please come baby. i want your cum to fill me up so good. need it baby. need your cum.” you slammed your hips down to meet his every movement, chasing the fast approaching high.
“i’m coming. coming. gonna come,” and with the most dirty, unholy, erotic noise ever made before, peter came.
you could feel the warm seed filling your cunt as you reached your peak, fucking his cum deeper into your cavity.
peter collapsed almost immediately, chest heaving as he sprawled onto the cold foor. you followed in suit, falling flat onto his chest, dick still sheathed inside.
it was deadly silent for at least 5 minutes, and you were sure he had fallen asleep until you head him say “i didn’t hurt you did i?” he lifted your body up, allowing his softened member to leave your body.
“i told you i could handle it, and i did.” you looked up to meet his tired eyes “you didn’t hurt me pete. and even if you had it would have been worth it. how are you feeling now?”
you brushed some hair out of his face, his soft breath brushing against yours. “god i feel so much better. i’m forever indebted to you. that hurt like a bitch.” he chuckled and closed his eyes. “seriously though, thank you. i don’t know what i did to deserve a friend like you.” he wrapped his strong arms around your waist, both of you choosing to ignore the bear skin and leaking fluids pouring you of your pussy.
he whined when you got up, and for a second you thought he would pull you back down. you entered the joined bathroom to get towels.
with gentle hands you soaked up the sticky substances residing over parker’s stomach “i think you’re gonna need this dry cleaned.” you mention, staring at the very stained suit.
he jerked when you gently wiped his cock, but relaxed into your touch nonetheless.
“i think we permanently traumatised mr stark,” peter chortled as he pulled your now clean body into the folding cot that lay in the room.
you giggled with him “yeah, i’m pretty sure even with the soundproofing the entire tower could hear you.” you smirked
the boy turned beet red, and nestled his face into yours, “hey! it wasn’t just me!”
the two of you spent the rest of the night on the small bed, neither with the strength to leave the room.
peter fell asleep first, but you stayed up a little to ponder the future of your friendship after today. however confused you may be, one thing was definitely sure.
there was no way you weren’t fucking peter parker again
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