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blooming-violets · 18 days

Note

private #5 bent over a table while somethings baking in the oven. is it too much to ask for tasm peter parker bending reader over?

[location based smut prompts]

The To-Do List

[tasm peter x fem!reader]

(reader is described as having a ponytail that is long enough for Peter to wrap around his hand and use as leverage)

His birthday cake was nestled happily inside the heated oven.

She got up early to make it for his special day. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail to keep out of her face while she had prepped and she was still in her pajamas from this morning. She had planned to have the cake in the oven, get her shower done, and place out his presents on the table all before he woke up.

Peter, of course, had other ideas.

He leaned against the kitchen doorway with a lopsided grin as he sleepily took in the sight of her. She paused when she saw him there, silent as ever, and crossed her arms.

“You are not supposed to be awake for another hour,” she chastised.

Thirty-five looked good on him. Every year he seemed to get more and more handsome.

His eye wrinkles grew as his smile widened. A strand of dark hair fell down his forehead and he absentmindedly brushed it away. He was shirtless with nothing but a pair of dark boxers to keep him decent.

She admired how defined his chest was. A hinting of his six pack was peeking out from just under the surface of his lean body.

“I smelled cake.” His voice was thick and scratchy with lingering sleep. Peter’s morning voice was one the sexiest sounds she’d ever heard.

She smiled as she rolled her eyes. It had hardly been in the oven for more than five minutes and it was already enough to get him out of bed.

“The kitchen is a mess. I was going to clean it all up and have your presents out and I was going to be all dressed up and looking extra cute. You ruined it all with your stupid nose.”

Peter laughed as he strode across the room to slip his arms around her waist. She looked up to admire him and wiped at a staining of toothpaste still clinging to the side of his lips. She caught it with her thumb and shoved it back into his mouth while he licked it off.

“You already look extra cute,” he mumbled around her thumb.

“I’m literally wearing your old, hole filled shirt and bright pink fluffy pants. This is not how I wanted you to see me this morning. It’s your birthday. I wanted it to be special.” She tugged her thumb back with a huff.

Peter stepped back to appreciate her outfit in the morning light. She had already been in bed by the time he crawled through their window last night.

“I like it,” he stated. “It’s hipster.”

She let out a laugh in response, “I don’t think you know what hipster means, babe.”

Peter shrugged, “It means you dress like a bum, right?”

“Oh my god, why don’t you go back to bed and try this again in an hour when everything is all set up, okay?”

“No,” he whined. He latched himself onto her back, snaking his arms tightly around her stomach to press her against him. “I’m up. It’s my birthday. Say happy birthday to me and tell me you love me.”

She grinned, snuggling back against his bare chest, “Happy birthday and I love you.”

“That sounded insincere but I will take it.” His hand slipped up under her loose shirt to cup a warm hand over her breast, lazily palming it while he nibbled at the edge of her ear. He always liked the feeling of her nipple coming to life and growing harder against his hand. He held onto her chest like one might cling to the safety of a favorite stuffed animal.

She groaned, “Your presents were supposed to be all set out nicely on the table. Instead you’re just greeted with a kitchen disaster of my cake baking. Are you sure you don’t want to sleep for another hour? I know you’re tired from last night. You were out late.”

Peter began to slowly waddle them back and forth towards the kitchen table, refusing to release his grip from around her waist or remove his hand from her breast, “I know of a present I can unwrap right here…”

She gasped under her breath, “Peter. This is no time. I’ve got a list of things to do.”

She felt him laugh quietly against her ear.

“Yeah and I’ve got a list of things to do, too. A whole list. Let’s see what the first thing to do is…” he pretended like he was reading off an imaginary piece of paper as he checked it over. “Ah, yes!”

He slipped his hands out from her shirt and placed a gentle hand between her shoulder blades to bend her over the kitchen table. With a quick swoop, he tugged down both her pants and underwear, leaving them hanging around her ankles. She let out a shocked cry.

“Unwrap presents…check!” He chuckled to himself, giving her bare ass a soft slap. “And what a beautiful present it is. Couldn’t have asked for anything better. Wow, you really know me, baby, I’m super impressed.”

“Peter,” she whined, pushing herself back up. “Not fair. I haven’t showered. I’ve got to get ready. I’ve-”

He cut her off with a kiss. His lips crashed against her and his tongue forced its way into her mouth to stop her from trying to protest further. She could taste the mint from his toothpaste still clinging to his tongue and she moaned as he pressed his hips into hers. He was growing harder by the second.

“Shut up,” he mumbled against her lips with a smile. “My birthday. My rules.”

“Okay,” she said with a dreamy sigh. It wasn’t hard to convince her. Her complaints were more for show than anything else. If Peter wanted her, he had her. “I love you, Pete.”

“If you love me so much then why don’t you take off that shirt so I can see my second present.”

She did as she was told, stripping it from her body, until she was standing naked before him. The bulge in his boxers twitched which made her smile. She loved the fact that she could make him so hard from sight alone.

Peter’s hand reached out to brush a calloused thumb across her hardened nipple, “Beautiful.”

He lifted her up onto the table so she was sitting closer to him and he moved between her legs. They wrapped around him so she could feel the heat of him soaking through his boxers and against her pussy. His eyes traveled down to her chest, taking in the sight, and sighing happily. His head dipped down so he could capture the waiting bud between his wet lips.

She let out a satisfied moan and ran her fingers through the back of his hair while suckled on her. His tongue bathed her breast, teeth nipping at her nipple, and soothing it over with quick kisses and light sucking motions. His mouth was magic. He didn’t even need to touch her pussy for her to already be soaking through his boxers as she ground against him.

“Feel that?” He groaned, bucking his hips. “Feel how hard I am?”

She whimpered.

“All for you,” he whispered, finding her lips once more to kiss her deeply.

All for her.

It was his birthday. She should probably be getting down on his knees for him and sucking him off or tending to him in some way but she was nothing but putty in his hands. Lost in the feeling of seduction he was casting over her.

Peter dragged her down off the table, smirking at the wet spot she had left behind, and spun her around. He folded her back in half over the table, scraping his nails down the length of her spine and over the swell of her ass.

“The next thing on my to-do list,” he breathed, his voice low and deep. “Is you.”

She heard him discarding his boxers and suddenly felt the wet, hot tip of cock slide up her open folds. She was more than ready for him. He never had to do much to have her begging for more. Her hips grinded against the air as if trying to draw him in closer but he only continued to tease her with the tip.

“Someone’s eager,” he commended, giving her ass another slap.

“Peter, please,” she gasped.

He kept up his tantalizing torture. Every time his cock bumped over her aching clit, her hips would jerk backwards, and she’d let out a quiet cry.

“Please what?” He asked with an air of innocence.

She groaned at his teasing, “Please fuck me! I want you to fuck me.”

“Aww,” he cooed. “Does my poor baby need my cock?”

She whined and nodded.

“You got up so early, didn’t you?” His nails dragged along her hips, making her squirm, as she humped frantically in an attempt to get at his cock. “You got up early to make my birthday so special. You baked me a cake. It smells amazing, doesn’t it? Smell it, baby.”

Her eyes widened in frustration, “Peter! Fuck me! Please, stop it.”

He ignored her pleas, getting off of them, as his cock twitched between her thighs, “Did you slip that cake into the oven just for me?”

She was nearly sobbing from her own arousal, ready to attack him if he didn’t shut up and fuck her soon. She arched her back to better entice him, wagging her ass and rubbing it against his hips. She pushed herself up with her arms so he could get a peeking view of her tits swaying in wait for him.

That seemed to do the trick because he had gone silent as he stared.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Happy birthday to me.”

“I want it hard, Peter. Use me,” she whispered in an effort to finally push him over the edge. “I’m yours.”

He lined up his cock to her entrance and eased himself inside. She nearly doubled over against the table at the delicious feeling that flooded through her body.

“Yes, yes, thank you, baby, thank you,” she cried.

“You really love this cock, don’t you?” He breathed. “Do you love this cock more than me?”

“No, baby, never. I could never-”

He pulled out and rammed the full, thick length back into her with a loud slap.

She shrieked, falling forward into a flurry of mumbled moans, “I do, I do, I do. I love it more than you. I love it more than anything.” Tears pricked in her eyes from the overwhelming sensations taking over.

Peter chuckled to himself, “That’s my girl.”

Her ass slapped against his body with each plunging drive of his cock as he took her. Fast and hard, just like she asked. Every thrust felt like it was reverberating through her, waking up all her senses, making her feel more alive than ever before. It was sheer bliss. Anticipation already began to build. He knew exactly how hard to take her. Peter could be rough but he never went past her limits. He knew her inside and out. He knew just where to push her before retreating back to safety. The sounds of her tumbling moans and each inhale of breath was all he needed to direct his path.

He was filling her body, stretching her, taking her, building her up to that beautiful place of divinity. Her nails clawed at the table, scratching at the wood, trying to find some kind of purchase to steady herself with.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Peter!” She cried.

“That’s it, baby,” he panted. “I got you. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

He wrapped her ponytail around his hand and jerked her head upwards. She arched her back to accommodate the move as he held her against him. She could feel his ragged breaths against her cheek and listened to his erotic panting in her ear. The sound was enough to almost send her flying straight into an orgasm.

The hand not keeping a tight hold of her ponytail wrapped around her to grab at her chest. He molded her breast between strong hands.

She loved taking his cock. Loved it so deep. Thrusting. Hard. Stretching her. Forcing her to take him. Peter was thick. Thickest man she had ever been with. He pushed her walls to their max. His beautiful body and the sounds he made when he fucked her where like heaven to her ears.

That familiar, sensual pressure began to grow inside of her with shallow waves lapping at the edges of her mind. Soon they would turn into giant swells. Taking her over until it was all she could feel.

His hand slipped from her ponytail to wrap around her neck. He gave a gentle squeeze. Nothing too forceful but enough to send her flying even faster towards that tsunami of pleasure. She was so close. So ready.

“Harder, Peter,” she sobbed. “Hard. Please. I’m-I’m…close…need it hard. Take me.”

Peter was never to deny a request like that. He shoved her back over the table and tumbled on top of her, humping frantically with long, heavy strokes into her cunt. He could feel her walls tightening. He could feel her body changing.

“Come on, baby,” he urged her. “Cum on my cock. Cum for me. Let me feel you.”

The universe exploded into blinding light.

She didn’t care how loud she was. Didn’t care if the neighbors would hear. In fact, she wanted them to. She wanted them to know exactly how well Peter Parker could fuck his woman.

Her toes curled and her legs kicked up as the sensory overload rocketed through her with golden waves of pure dopamine.

Peter took her straight to the edge and held her there, spasming and sobbing, as he continued to fuck her through the orgasm. Even as the waves slowly receded, they still lingered in tiny aftershocks, due to his relentless pounding. He had gotten her where she needed to be and now it was his turn.

He reangled himself into her, getting a better grip as he held onto her hips, and switched up his rhythm to slow. Peter liked to feel everything. He wanted to drag it out and feel her body wrapped around him. From fast and hard to slow and steady. His change of pace caused a low, drawn out moan to escape from her throat.

“You like that, baby?” He panted. “You like feeling every inch of me?”

All she could do was whimper in response as her sex spasmed again around him. This was a man who knew how to lengthen an orgasm. She was completely helpless to him. Her body was his play thing.

“Let me hear how much you love me, baby,” he whispered down in her ear as his cock buried straight to the hilt inside of her. “Let me hear you.”

She struggled to make any noise besides sobbing whimpers and broken cries.

He moaned in response, “That’s it. Those are those sounds that I love so much. My poor baby, all ravaged on my cock. Can’t even speak.”

He gave a small shudder and she knew he was close. She did her best to work her hips to meet his thrusts, squeezing him with her walls, sucking him in, clenching down.

“That’s good, baby, that’s good.” He moaned, his voice slowly losing itself as he got closer to the edge. “Ooh, fuck, keep that up. ‘M gon’na cum inside ya’kay?”

She loved it when he filled her. She loved feeling him drip down her leg as she carried him around with her. She would bathe in his semen if he wished it. It was his birthday, after all. The birthday boy could come wherever he pleased.

His long, slow strokes worked her up as another, tiny orgasm rippled through her. That seemed to be all he needed to follow.

Peter let out a low groan, his thrusts become more unrestrained with each passing second, and she took him. All of him.

With the sweetest of cries, he emptied himself inside of her. She could feel him swell and pulse until she was impossibly full. That tiny orgasm grew into something much bigger, taking over her body along with him, as she felt him collapse on top of her, both shaking, as he bit at her shoulders with soft, love bites until he finally calmed down.

He stayed like that, laid against her back and squishing her into the table, until he cock began to soften and he sadly slid back out. She tumbled back into his arms as they both fell to the spooning position against the kitchen floor. Naked, wet, and breathing heavily.

Peter’s hand found the comfort of her breast once more.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Best present I could ask for. Thank you, baby. You’re too good to me.”

She grunted in response, still finding words to fail her. Instead, she rolled over in his arms, hooking her leg through his, and leaving a trail of kisses across his face to show much she adored him.

His eyes closed as he smiled happily at the feeling.

Eventually she would have to get up. Eventually she would have to shower and get dressed and clean the kitchen and set up his presents and frost the cake…but for now…

For now she was happy to just lay here on the floor in his arms.

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int-writersmind · 6 months

Text

Potential Customer

Summary: You work at a record store, bored out of your mind, until Peter Parker walks in and catches your eye. Peter Parker x Reader

*also I wrote this with the Ps4/5 Peter Parker in mind, but honestly it's generic enough to be any Peter.

Genre: Fluff; Flirting

Word Count: 2k+

When you decided to take a job at So-So Records, you thought it would be like that movie Empire Records where every day would be an exciting romp, well hopefully not a potential job-losing-filled-romp. Unfortunately for you it was much more boring.

Your days were mostly filled with dealing with tourists who were kind-hearted but utterly clueless or pretentious audiophiles who would give you their opinions without even asking you. However, for all your big talk you weren’t that knowledgeable when it came to music, you just liked what your liked and were opened to suggestions (from unpretentious, kind customers of course.)

It was a weekday, you couldn’t remember which, since they all seem to blend together when working back-to-back shifts. You were alone, the shop had a few customers idling around.

You were at the front counter, elbow resting on the check-out counter, head resting on one hand, the other lazily flipping through a catalog. When the front bell rings, your eyes barely flicker upwards. It isn’t until that potential customer who walked through the front door is standing right in front of you do you finally look up.

“Um, hello?” says the Potential Customer.

“Welcome to So-So Records,” you decide to stand up straight and give your full attention to this Potential Customer. Clueless Tourist or Pretentious Audiophile? “Can I help you with anything?”

“Uh, yeah, um,” The Potential Customer, a mid-twenties guy with chocolate brown hair and amber eyes that complemented, reached into his satchel and pulled out a notebook, flipping through the pages. “I’m actually looking for this album? I’ve been to a few other places and had no luck, they all say So-So would be my best chance.”

The Potential Customer, with his slouchy shoulders and tendency to fidget quite often, placed a hand on the back of his neck, rubbing up and down. Your eyes dart from the hand on the back of his neck to the hand that gives you the notebook. Your gaze lingers a little too long on his long, slender fingers. Strange, you know, but sometimes the most attractive parts of a human were really strange.

You refocus, eyes skimming the paper, on it was a title and artist, your brain flickers with the passing glance of the cover. “Uh, yeah, I…think we have this, follow me.”

You move from behind the desk, taking the notebook in hand, glancing at the words once more. You lead–

“I’m Peter by the way, I know you didn’t ask, but still…” You glance back, gesturing to your name tag, as you lead Peter down the aisles of various genres of music. “I actually never been to a record store before, didn’t even know they still existed.”

“I was like that too for a while,” You stop at a section where the older music was located, placing the notebook on one section of records. “Gotta thank the hipsters for making it popular again, even though they are some of the most annoying customers.”

“The only memory of records I have is when my Aunt and Uncle used to play some every so often on the weekends.”

You start to flip through the albums, scanning for the right one, “Do they still find time to play some?”

Peter sighs and leans against a row of records, looking elsewhere, “No, no, my Uncle, actually…passed some time ago...”

You stop for a moment, fingers pausing, you look in his direction. As if he could feel your eyes on him, he looks up at you. His face, neutral with maybe a hint of sadness. Like he was used to saying that a loved one who must have been important in his life was gone, but also still hurt when thinking about him.

“Apologies.” You say, not completely happy with the response. How many times had he heard that?

“Don’t be,” Peter crosses his arms, smirks a boyish grin that makes him even more appealing. “It made me think of a nice memory that I forgot about, more memories about Uncle Ben will never not be nice.”

You smile as you return back to searching for the record, “Oh, look I found it! That’s surprising.”

Peter moves closer, hovering over your right shoulder to get a better look, You sharply suck in breath, turning your head to look at him. Peter glances at you, and smiles, “That’s great, kind of a shame though.”

“Why?”

“'Cause it means I have to leave now,” You hand him the record and the notebook, to which Peter plucks it from your hand, looking over the front and the back, while moving away from you. You exhale deeply as you follow behind him.

“Who says you have to go? Unless you have somewhere to go?” You finally say.

“I think I can spare some time,” Peter looks down at his pretend watch on his bare wrist, “Are you gonna introduce me to some music that will change my life?”

“Please,” You laugh as the two of you lazily walk down the aisle, “I’m hardly the last person to do so.”

“Don’t you-”

“Work at a record store? I know, I know, but I like what I like. Sue me if it’s Top 100.”

The two of you stop at the end of the aisle, you standing at one end of a row of records, Peter moving over and doing the same.

“I guess it’s better than getting made fun of for having an old man's taste.”

“Really? You get hate for having a love for the oldies? That’s some bullshit, especially in a place like New York.”

“Well, when you're a nerdy kid with thick glasses and a love of science, it’s not so cool” Peter flicks through the stack, pulling up an album by a band that was huge in the 70s.

“Hmm, if you like that group,” You flick through some albums on your side, skimming until you land on the second record by a female-led group from around the same time. “How about this?” You model the record, posing with it, flipping it from front to back. “And…it’s on sale.” You move over to the same aisle as Peter, standing close to him like he did to you earlier.

Peter takes the record from your hand, “I think younger, nerdier me would have loved this.”

“Younger, nerdier, you sounds like he was such a cutie.” You response.

“Was?”

You shyly smile back, moving away with your hands behind your back. ”

This was grossly unprofessional, what were your intentions with this potential customer? Making a sale or making a move. You push that thought out of your head, if you were making him uncomfortable or pushing it too far, then he wouldn’t be smirking at you like that. That smile that causes a slight flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

The two of you continue your walk back to the front, the long way of course. Bobbing and weaving through different aisles, many short, some long. Passing through pop–contemporary and classic, and some RnB, ending up at one end of the store, in the rock section. “What were you like in high school?” Peter asks.

“Quiet, mostly,” You lean against the wall and Peter does the same next to you. “Not too popular but I had friends, spent a lot of time with my art and music teachers, focused on doing little stuff like that instead of more fun extracurricular activities.”

“Huh, yeah I get it, I found some time to do some little stuff to distract myself in high school too. Nothing…too exciting.”

You inch closer to Peter and so does he, to the point where the two of you bump shoulders. “Oh sorry…”

“Don’t be,” Peter says.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. The two of you just stare at one another, the hum of whatever record you put on earlier lightly plays in the air. The dry smell of the older, original pressings of albums of the past, filling up the room.

You dart your eyes downward, quickly, towards his lips, before looking away. God, now this was unprofessional. “Shit, sorry.” You move off the wall, but Peter’s hand on your wrist causes you to turn. His touch wasn’t aggressive, or rough, but gentle and light. Like a feather was tickling the underside of your hand instead of his long, slender fingers.

Ding-Ding!

Both of your heads turn towards the door, a middle aged couple walk in, wonder in their eyes, cameras slung over their head. Clueless Tourists. You and Peter look at one another, before resigning to the situation and finally making it to the front. You, behind the counter, Peter in front, the two records under his arm.

“Hello, welcome to So-So Records, I’ll be here if you need me.” You say to the newest potential customers, as they give you that polite nod, and split off into the rest of the store. Peter places the records on the table, when all of sudden his phone goes off, he opens it and stares intently at the screen. “Something wrong?”

“No, ah yes, no,” Peter says, his head whipping from his phone to you multiple times. “I-God, I hate to do this but I can’ take these right now–”

“You can always come back.” You take the records from the counter, holding them in your hand.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I close tonight, you can come back later and get them.” You place the records behind you, before looking back nervously. “I mean only if you want, obviously, duh.”

“Duh.” Peter dryly chuckles, glancing once more at his phone. “I really have to leave, but I’ll be back, I promise. It’s a date. I mean, no, not a date, but–”

“I gotcha.” You wink and smile at Peter as he nervously backs up, sneaking in a last look before leaving through the door, with a ding-ding.

God, you can not believe what just happened! Are you some teenage girl whose knees go weak when a semi-attractive guy shoots you a smile? Who’s touch makes your face heat up, even if it’s just shoulders touching, or gentle, kind, fingertips on your wrist?

For the rest of your shift, you did more of the same that you did every day at your job. Helping customers, listening to unsolicited music advice, and a lot of needless flipping through the store’s catalog.

As the day wined down, the sun dipping into the horizon, you made peace with the fact that Peter wasn’t coming back. Whatever, this is reality not some rom-com where fate will bring the two leads back together at the end.

You also decided to buy your recommendation to Peter as well, you had plenty of copies of it in the store, so if he decides to come back after all, he could get his own copy.

You pull down the store’s front gate, squatting down to lock the padlock, pulling it to make sure it was secure, the record under your arm.

“Making away with customers orders I see.”

You turn to face the familiar voice, Peter slightly out of breath, but still as charming as he was this morning. “Potential customer.” You say, standing up, smiling ever just subtly.

“Sorry I’m late,” Peter glances at the closed store, with its darkened lights and gated entrance. “Like really late.”

“Hmm, that’s ok,” You turn to walk down the sidewalk, your head peering over your shoulder, “Walk with me?”

As you walk down the sidewalk, record held in your arms across your chest, Peter falls in rhythm with you, so close that his hand occasionally grazes your leg. Jokingly you say, “I thought you forgot all about me, wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Oh god no,” Pete dryly chuckles. “The only thing I could think about was you, I-I mean coming back here to pick up the records and uh, and also to see you, I guess.”

“Ah, you guess huh?”

The two of you wait at a crosswalk, before deciding to jaywalk as there were no cars in sight, you make a turn once you get to the other side, on the block that you lived on.

“I was actually coming to tell you that I no longer need that record actually, the one I came in for. It was for a, uh, a project that quickly evolved to…something else.”

“Ok, I see,” Your head turns to Peter and he does the same, your eyes lock on to one another, his face filled with nerves. “You were gonna come all the way back here to not buy something. That’s a first, I would have preferred ghosting.”

Peter laughs again, shaking his head, “No, no, I was still gonna get the record that you suggested to me. Sounds more up my alley anyway.” You stop in front of your apartment building, with Peter placing his hand on your arm to move out of another couples way. The two of you stand in front of the building's metal gates. “But it seems I have to come back during business hours to do so.”

“Or not.”

Peter raises his eyebrows in confusion, as you reach in your jacket’s pocket for a notebook you always kept. You write down something on the paper, using the pen you stuck in the notebook holder, tearing off the page. You place the paper on top of the record and push it towards him.

“No I can't-”

“I’m not giving it to you.” You say, “I’m lending it to you. Listen to it, listen to it again and then…call me, or text me and let me know how it is.” Peter takes the record and piece of paper from your hands, his fingers brushing yours. “And don’t ghost me, it would be a shame if I never get to see-talk to you again.”

“Yeah…it would be…”

“Goodnight Peter.”

Peter says your name, it makes your heart flutter just for a moment when he does so, ‘“Goodnight.” But the two of you don’t leave, you two just stare at each for a little longer.

Your phone rings and you’re forced to look at it.

“My roommate, she gets antsy if I don’t come home exactly when I say I will.”

“I understand.”

You nod and turn to walk into the building. Before you go through the doors, you glance back to see Peter staring at the piece of paper before looking up at you, that same smirk on his face.

God, you are so unprofessional.

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Read Part 2 -> Hanging on the Telephone!

Oh my goodness this is my first fic on Tumblr! Please be kind and comment if you like, like if you prefer, reblog if you're like that, I won't judge. Always open for suggestions and to ~virtually~ meet others! I'm so new to this and I know I'm currently talking into the void but, whatever...Bye, thanks if you made it this far!!!

masterlist

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #insomniac spider man #insomniac peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #peter parker x y/n #ps4!Peter Parker x reader #spider man 2 ps5 #ps5!peter parker x reader #spiderman remastered #peter parker fluff #insomniac!Peter Parker #insomniac!peter parker x reader

267 notes · View notes

oliveroctavius · 10 months

Text

Let's look briefly at the Coffee Bean in Spider-Man comics!

Contrary to popular memory, Peter's college pals initially met up at a diner called the Silver Spoon (ASM 44, but also 46, 52, possibly 125).

The spread at the top of this post takes a lot from this place's layout. But as newcomer MJ might have pointed out, diners are so fifties. The modern teen needed someplace cooler and edgier to hang out. Somewhere more underground. Literally.

Maps place The Coffee Bean alternately in East Village or Tribeca. The beret and glasses? The lowercase Dante's Inferno quote? The wall-hung guitar? So hipster. Wait, wrong decade. So beatnik.

The OG Bean didn't show up much more frequently than the Silver Spoon (ASM 53, 59, and 82, most notably), but it's the one that stuck in the cultural imagination. I enjoy Tim Sale's take in Spider-Man: Blue with the unfinished basement look and cult film posters.

In early modern flashbacks, the location is plagued by a specific continuity problem: "then [character] leaps through the WINDOW!" from new writers who missed the fact that it's below ground. In ASM Annual '96, JRSr complies by raising the ceiling a level!

The Sensational Spider-Man Annual's approach to the Coffee Bean makes me a bit sad. Dialogue repeatedly emphasizes its unique character and long history and how well MJ knows the place. But it's drawn aboveground and totally generic. (This from an issue with a dozen Silver Age panels directly traced!)

It's not the first time that happens, but here feels like a critical failure of show-don't-tell. The eventual window smash is worth it, but... I'd argue this would work better set at the Silver Spoon (where MJ actually met the gang, old in an uncool way, aboveground) instead.

Brand New Day reestablishes a solid sense of place for the Coffee Bean. Brick and glass entryway, a logo that's less beatnik and more Starbuck, and an interior that reminds me of a Panera Bread.

(If it's supposed to be canon that the new more corporate look is due to renovations by Harry, that's been lost in the shuffle. But it would make sense to me. His effort at impressing Norman with a plan to make the Bean a chain store circa ASM 569 would extend his trend of editorializing his own memories.)

While it still teleports between Astor Place and Tribeca, this version has now had more consistent (and just more) appearances than the original. And, of course, it has a beautiful bank of windows to—

Ah, that's more like it.

The Coffee Bean has become a symbol of innocent nostalgia and a happier past. It was also (as designed by Romita Sr) a virtual bunker: not until 1977 would superheroics be written to take place inside the Coffee Bean. (ASM Annual #11—Romita Jr's first ever penciling job on Spider-Man, interestingly.)

As a silver age icon, the location was physically safe and interruption-free in a way that even Peter's apartments and Aunt May's house couldn't be. The architecture—and how it's changed��has been a large part of that symbolism, underappreciated as it sometimes is.

#long post #thank you for coming to ollie's deep dive of the week if anything here is wrong go ahead and add on #the coffee bean #coffee bean gang #down with the sliding timescale #images undescribed

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amorhedera6 · 5 months

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ted in high school was so much more of a nerd then he will EVER let peter know. he loved english class, devoured books. he had scathing essays that ripped apart the classics for being shitty but still properly analyzed the characters. he liked lord of the rings and hated harry potter. he likes worldbuilding and complex and intricate stories and lore he can dive into. he loves five nights and freddie’s and is SUCH a prententious hipster. jenny was his best friend from middle school going forward, and she was a drama kid. he did tech so he could hang around with her more, screwed around in the lighting booth. he was the guy who carried books around and always was reading. he tutored in english, it was his best class. he sucked at math and science, he was fine in history, he passed his spanish class, whatever, but he was a inning his ap english class no sweat. he would beg jenny to read his obscure books so he’d have someone to talk to about them but she’d only let him if she could make him watch whatever musical was on at starlight at the time. he wanted to go away to college for english but his dad was an asshole and wouldn’t let him so he went to hatchetfield for like tech or w/e with an english minor. but when he lost jenny he just shut down. reading reminded him of her, his favorite books, his favorite indie movies, musicals, everything. he just completely gives up his regular shit, only watches the popular movies everything. when peters born, the same year she left, he drops his english minor to account for all the time he spends watching his baby brother. he sheds himself of his “nerdy” aspects bc they all remind him of her. starts drinking more, sleeping around, whatever. becomes a sleazeball because it’s easier than emotional intimacy.

the only sign of who he used to be is his name carved into the tech booth. ruth sees it and sends a picture to peter, who calls ted a theatre kid for six months.

#my life is consumed by these brothers #shakes them in my hands like a snow globe #ted spankoffski #tgwdlm #the guy who didn't like musicals #hatchetfied #hatchetverse #starkid #The Rambles

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sashaisready · 3 months

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The Blood Pact: Chapter 1 - The Viewing

Bucky Barnes Vampire AU x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2

Reeling from a bad break-up, you're desperately trying to find a new place to live but the Brooklyn rental market is a complete nightmare. You take a chance on an intriguing newspaper ad and enquire about a room in a shared house, where you'd be living with two mysterious men. The catch is that they want something other than your money for you to pay the rent...the one thing they don't have

Large double room and en-suite bathroom available in shared house in Brooklyn. Living with two male professionals. Rent reasonable and negotiable – call to enquire, ask for Steve – 555-6786

That’s all the ad said. You couldn’t help but be intrigued. After all, who even finds a roommate via the newspaper nowadays? You’d only found it because you were absentmindedly flicking through an old paper someone had left on your table in the coffee shop. In the last few weeks you’d spent hours trawling through apartment listings online, viewing terrible dump after terrible dump. Damp. Cold. Tiny. That one apartment with literal mushrooms growing on the ceiling. Another where the other roommates had clearly put a single mattress in a closet and were trying to shave a few bucks off their own rent. You’d met with potential roommates who all ranked highly on the awful scale – everyone from that potential serial killer looking guy who insisted you didn’t need a lock on your bedroom door, to that girl who kept jars of her toenail clippings on the coffee table.

Frankly, you were getting desperate. You weren’t looking for much, just a non-closet sized, clean bedroom that you didn’t need a lottery win to afford. But that was apparently a tall order.

You had been crashing on your friend Wanda’s couch for too long now. As welcoming as her and her boyfriend Vis were, enough was enough. Your break up with Peter had left you homeless. After a well-deserved period of mourning and ‘what the fuck?-ing’, it was time to move on. Move out. Give Wanda and Vis their space back, stop being a burden and get back on the horse.

…And that’s how you found yourself on the doorstep of a beautiful, nineteenth century townhouse in Brooklyn at 7.30pm on an autumnal Wednesday.

It was worth a shot, right? You genuinely had nothing to lose by now.

Maybe the room was perfect for you. Maybe they were hipsters who put the ad in the paper as a retro throwback thing. Maybe they were super old. Whatever, at this point as long as they were clean and not sociopaths you were willing to overlook all sorts of potential flaws. And rent was negotiable, so maybe you wouldn’t need a bank loan just to pay the deposit.

Steve had sounded nice on the phone when you’d enquired yesterday. Not super old. Friendly and sweet. Very polite. He had given you the address and directions. It was actually refreshing to speak on the phone, as normally your apartment enquiries took place over tedious exchanges via the SpareRoom app. When you told him 7.30pm was a bit of an odd time for a viewing he just explained that he and his roommate worked long hours throughout the day, so evenings were best. Fine. It was New York City, a night time viewing was hardly going to raise an eyebrow.

Even so, you were a young woman going into a stranger’s house alone at night. In the city. You weren’t stupid, you dropped your location pin to Wanda and texted her the address and details. Just in case.

You took a deep breath and rapped your knuckles on the front door. You’d done so many of these that they were almost muscle memory now. Be polite, charming, make them want to live with you. You stretched out your shoulders as you waited and took another look at your potential new home. The building really was beautiful, a classic caramel colour with period features. Tall with big bay windows. A whirring noise caught your attention and you spotted a security camera perched just above the door. It turned to face you before whizzing back to its original place. They were clearly security conscious, so that was a plus.

Moments later the door swung open to reveal a tall, handsome man who must’ve been in his 30s standing in front of you. He wasn’t at all what you expected, blonde and classically handsome, a rugged beard and bright blue eyes. A bit on the pale side, but then summer was long gone. Your gaze couldn’t help but switch to the muscles clearly lurking under his tight white t-shirt, before you caught yourself and looked back at his face just as quickly.

“Hi…I’m-” you told him, slightly flustered.

“Hey. Right on time, I’m Steve” the man grinned, extending his hand to you as you shook it and introduced yourself. You were struck by how cold his hand was, hoping it wasn’t a tell-tale sign of the lack of heat in the house.

Steve smiled warmly and gestured for you to come in. “Thanks for coming. Let me show you around, and I’ll introduce you to my roommate, Bucky”.

You nodded, following him mindlessly. There was just something about him…something magnetic. He was cute. God, was he cute. But it was something else. You had no idea what had come over you.

Steve enthusiastically gave you the tour, guiding you throughout the ground floor. The house was just as stunning inside as out, with clean white walls and a mix of modern and antique furniture. A blend of modern and classic art adorned each room but didn’t seem to clash. The whole place was somehow both pristine yet comforting, spotless yet lived in. He showed you around the enormous kitchen with its big oak table, then the kitchen island which would bring any Pinterest interior design enthusiast to their knees. Huge windows framed the sink, thick blinds were pulled down and stopped the evening darkness from creeping in.

“Wow” you muttered as you took it all in.

Steve chuckled. “Yep…we’re pretty lucky” he smiled.

He took you through to the living room which to no surprise was equally stunning, your eyes found a chic cream couch which looked comfier than any bed, but you knew you would destroy with food and drink stains in a matter of days if unleashed upon it. Your feet padded on the wooden floor as she showed you the fireplace, then the television unit custom built into the wall which you knew must’ve cost a pretty penny.

The tour continued and he showed you a bathroom (one of many) and utility room (no more trips lugging all your clothes to the laundromat…genuine bliss) before leading you up the winding staircase. The stairs each creaked underfoot and you noticed every single window you’d seen had been fitted with heavy duty blinds. Even the tiny ones which must only allow the smallest sliver of light in. A little odd. But hey, it’s their house.

Steve was animated and charming throughout the tour, pointing out his favourite parts and telling anecdotes about where they found certain belongings. Asking questions about you and your job. He took you to the first floor and walked up to a closed door.

“And this would be your room”.

He opened the door and you nearly gasped at the size of the place, an enormous bedroom with a huge double bed and antique wardrobe. The vast window was covered by the yet another ubiquitous blind.

“Obviously it’s looking a bit sparse right now, but you could really make it your own if you took the place. We don’t care if you paint or whatever” Steve added, smiling as he moved to open another interior door across the room.

“And here’s the bathroom. This would be just yours, Buck and I have our own upstairs”.

You couldn’t hold in the loud, appreciative whistle you made as you walked in - which made Steve laugh.

“Are you kidding me?” you scoffed.

The bathroom was enormous. Perfect white tiles, every inch spotless. A beautiful waterfall shower stood in the corner, a vastly superior upgrade to the slightly dribbly shower head over the bathtub at Wanda’s. Along the wall was an immaculate marble sink mounted with a stunning vanity mirror, and the pièce de resistance was a huge copper bathtub in the centre – so deep that you could clone yourself and fit at least three of you in there comfortably.

After taking in the impressive room you spun excitedly on your heel to face Steve.

“You like it?” he said teasingly, a flash of mischief darkening his baby blues.

“Like it? I would happily live in just the bathroom, never mind the bedroom” you practically squealed.

Steve laughed good naturedly at your excitement. He seemed to view you with slightly bewildered amusement, but it didn’t feel patronising or snooty.

“Great. So you’re interested?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “God, yes. I just don’t think I can afford it…this place is so nice…” you mumbled, the realisation of how much this must all cost sinking in.

Steve eyed you with interest. “Well, let’s see shall we? It’s negotiable. We’ll have a talk with Bucky and see what we can agree”.

You nodded again, following him out into the hall. You had fallen hard for the room. It was the best place you’d seen by a country mile, let alone the ridiculous plus of having a private bathroom. Steve seemed…nice. Normal. Well, aside from being insanely hot and you clearly having a weird crush on him which made you feel strangely dazed…but that was okay. You would get over your crush. If your biggest problem with him was him being too hot, you would cope. Especially for your own copper bathtub. You wondered what exactly ‘negotiable’ meant. And what about this Bucky guy? You and Steve seemed to get along fine, but what was the other roommate like?

“Uh…where do you sleep?” you asked as Steve led you back towards the stairs.

He flicked a finger upwards. “Next floor up, Bucky and I have our bedrooms there. I would take you up there but it’s not particularly interesting” he said dismissively as he guided you back down the stairs.

You thought it a bit strange that he had left out an entire floor, after all the rest of the tour was so thorough he’d shown you inside cabinets and drawers downstairs. But bedrooms were personal, you wouldn’t be in their rooms or their bathroom anyway – so you supposed it wasn’t relevant.

Steve led you into the living room and you were surprised to see the wood fire roaring, as if it had been like that for hours. You had been in here not a few minutes earlier and there wasn’t even a hint of a spark. Someone must’ve got it going in record time…

“Hi there, nice to meet you” came a voice from behind you.

You flinched, surprised as you hadn’t noticed anyone else in the room when you came in. You turned and your stomach dropped when you locked eyes with the owner of the voice.

There sat nonchalantly in an armchair was possibly the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, every thread hugging his body perfectly. He had long chestnut hair slicked back into a small bun, and a jawline that could cut glass. A bit pale, like Steve, but it made his skin look porcelain. His lips were full and pouty, and you could see a glimpse of his shirt straining over his broad shoulders. What had stopped you in your tracks though, were his eyes. Perfectly cerulean pools that seemed to pierce into you, to penetrate your very thoughts and dreams. If you thought you’d felt a pull towards Steve, then this was like a blackhole – unstoppable and relentless.

You gawped open mouthed at him for a moment before remembering you were trying to impress and charm here, shaking yourself out of it.

“Oh yes, hi. You must be Bucky?” you managed to utter, extending your hand to his as you gave him your name.

He smiled back at you and for a split second you could’ve sworn he was smirking, entertained by how flustered you were. But it was a tiny glimpse, quickly swallowed by a more genuine smile.

“Yep. James Barnes, officially. But everyone calls me Bucky” he replied. His voice was soft yet deep. His hand was just as cold as Steve’s had been, you almost flinched as his cool flesh met yours.

“Ooh, I think you’re a little chilly. Hopefully the fire will warm you up” you stammered, still ruffled by the effect he’d had on you.

Bucky just smiled dryly in response, gesturing for you to sit on the couch as Steve slipped down in the armchair next to his.

As you sat you were suddenly aware of how warm it was in the room. How could he possibly be cold? It was sweltering in here with that fire.

“So it’s great you’re interested in the room” Steve began. “We just want to check our compatibility, make sure you’re a good fit. And then we can talk about rent payment, alright?”

You nodded, grabbing your purse and pulling some documents from it.

“Here are my last six pay stubs” you said as you passed the papers over to Steve, doing your best not to look at Bucky in case you had another meltdown. “I work full time, and I have good references from past landlords. So I can prove I’ve got a steady income and I’m good for the rent” you explained, with slightly more urgency than planned.

Steve nodded and looked at them briefly, but didn’t really seem to read them. He passed them to Bucky who seemed just as disinterested. Your heart sank, that wasn’t a good sign.

“So where are you living now?” Steve asked.

You giggled awkwardly and launched into the much shorter, less warts and all version of your break up and subsequent forced eviction. You explained you were staying on your friend’s couch but needed to move out, and that’s why you were house hunting now. Both Steve and Bucky seemed intrigued, studying you carefully as you awkwardly gestured with your hands, laughing nervously to fill the silence.

“Sorry to hear that” Steve finally said. “Break-ups are tough. Especially when you’re cohabiting. Did you just want different things?”

You nod. “Uh yes. I wanted to be in a relationship with him, and he wanted to be balls deep in other women while I was in the next room. You know, classic incompatibility”.

Steve looked at you sympathetically while Bucky let out a strangled laugh.

Up your hand went to your mouth as you realised what you’d said.

“Oh wow, I’m so sorry that was…too much” you cringed.

“Don’t apologise. Sounds like you’re far better off” Bucky said sternly, his eyes practically burning into you.

You nodded, you felt your face flushing slightly from the intensity of his attention.

Your eyes must’ve been playing tricks on you in the firelight as they both men seemed to tense up for a second. But then it was over as quickly as it started.

“Thanks…I guess it’s all still pretty raw” you chuckled weakly.

They told you that they were business partners, dealing in antiques and doing some book restoration on the side too. They’d been friends for years, more like brothers really, meeting in the army and setting up their company after they were discharged. You were impressed, you didn’t know any former soldiers turned antique dealers.

They proceeded to fire questions at you. Standard stuff about your job as a copy editor, you explained you worked from home mostly and they said that was fine as they weren’t around much during the day and the WiFi was decent. Perfect.

They asked if you did any drugs or drank heavily. No and no. Maybe a few glasses of wine or a cocktail at the weekends.

Then they asked if you had any medical conditions they should know about. You cocked an eyebrow, unsure of why that was necessary information for a roommate interview.

“I’m sorry, I promise we aren’t trying to pry” Steve advised, noticing your discomfort. “And obviously you don’t have to share anything you don’t want to. It won’t affect your chances of getting the room. It’s just we had a diabetic roommate once who didn’t tell us, he went into a hypoglycaemic coma in the kitchen and we had no idea what was going on and couldn’t help him. He was fine, an ambulance came in time. But now we just like to know if it’s not too intrusive to share, just in case we ever need to help”.

You nodded. That made sense.

“No, no medical conditions”.

They smiled at you, then exchanged glances. Both of them looked at each other for a moment before nodding in unison.

“Okay, the room is yours” said Steve.

You couldn’t hide your squeal, your fists clenching in excitement. You almost wanted to run up and hug them both, but restrained the urge. You were already daydreaming about that tub.

“Oh wow, amazing!! Thank you” you beamed. “But what about the rent…?”

They exchanged another look before Steve spoke again.

“Well, you see. That’s where the more uh…unconventional elements of the contract kick in” he replied warily.

Your brow furrowed in confusion.

“The thing is…” Steve continued, his voice solemn. “We don’t need your money for the rent. We require something else from you”.

You frowned, suddenly uncomfortable. “Look, I know this is the twenty-first century but I don’t do stuff like that to keep a roof over my head, no matter how bad the rental market is” you spat, getting to your feet as you felt your anger rise. Who did they think they were?

Steve and Bucky shook their heads, laughing, which just made you madder.

“No, not that” Steve soothed. “We want your blood, sweetheart”.

You scoffed. “What?”

“Your blood” replied Bucky nonchalantly. “We’re vampires, Doll”.

You rolled your eyes. “What kind of sick joke…”

“We’re vampires and we need your blood” Bucky explained, cutting you off. His tone deadpan, as if he was explaining something as trivial as how to use the stove. “So you can stay here for free, no payment needed, we just need to feed from you every couple of days. We won’t take more than you can give. You won’t feel any ill effects, and you’re not in any danger”.

You laughed incredulously, clutching your face with exasperation.

“Really? Is this how you fuckers get your kicks? Pretending to rent a room so you can pull messed up jokes?” you hissed. You should’ve known it was too good to be true.

Steve and Bucky seemed unfazed by your disbelief. They both watched you with merriment as you got up and grabbed your purse, stuffing your wage stubs back inside.

“You wanna show her or should I?” Bucky asked Steve.

“Knock yourself out” Steve replied dismissively. He reached for his phone.

As you headed to leave you had just managed to wrap your hand around the doorknob when Bucky was suddenly inches away from you in a single second.

You sputtered, turning to face him. “H-how did you get here so fast?”

You looked over at Steve who was mindlessly scrolling on his phone, unbothered by whatever was happening just a few feet away from him.

Bucky grinned. His eyes glowed yellow for a brief moment which made you gasp and slump against the door. You watched in horror as his canines grotesquely lengthened, morphing into something like animal teeth before your very eyes.

No, not animal teeth. Fangs.

At first you thought it was a prank, some sort of special effect or trick of the light. But it wasn’t, you saw it with your own eyes and you knew it deep down. This was real.

Suddenly it all clicked. Their inhumanly cold skin despite the warm house. The insistence on meeting at night. The way Bucky had soared across the room in half a second. The covered windows.

They were vampires.

“This can’t be happening” you muttered under your breath, your chest rising and falling as fear gripped you. You wanted to run but you couldn’t, your terror freezing you on the spot like a deer in headlights. Panic had overtaken you.

“Hey. Don’t get yourself too worked up, like Buck said - you’re not in any danger” Steve offered casually, not looking up from his phone.

“You’re safe” Bucky echoed, and you saw his fangs slowly switch back into normal, human teeth as they were before. It was almost like it never happened.

Almost.

“You wanna continue this? Or you wanna go home?” Bucky asked. He sounded annoyed, like you were somehow the unreasonable one here, wasting their time.

“You’d just…l-let me leave?” Your eyes widened with fear. “Even though I know your secret?”

“Sure” said Steve, as if it was nothing. He was much softer and gentler than Bucky. “We can hypnotise you into forgetting and send you on your way. You’ll just think the room was a bust and that’ll be it. You think this is our first viewing?”

You flapped your mouth open and close like a goldfish while they patiently waited for you to decide. It was too much. You couldn’t process it. Vampires existed?? Really? How could this be happening?

You wanted to tell them to hypnotise you, to erase all of this and let you go back to your life. You could return to blissful ignorance, rent a shoebox room somewhere else with actual humans. Human roommate toenail clippings and all.

But something inside you rebelled against all reason. A tiny voice of dissent amongst the otherwise harmonious chorus. You had no idea where it came from, it was against every survival instinct you had as adrenaline coursed through you. You battled against the urge to leave, to run as fast as you could out into the night and never look back. You couldn’t justify it, you knew it was stupid…but you listened to that tiny voice.

“Tell me more about how this works” you whispered, as your rational brain screamed at you.

#vampire bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #the blood pact fic #james bucky barnes #Vampire bucky au #Vampire bucky x you #Vampire bucky x reader

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