#the amazing spiderman fluff

[spiderfunkz]

✧.* cold hands

— summary : frozen yogurt dates with peter

— pairings : tasm!peter parker x gn!reader

— word count : 0,6k

— warnings : fluff, pet names, the normal cheesy first dates, peter and reader being awkward and cute, holding hands, messy plot, not proofread, lmk if i missed any !!

a/n : more fluffy peter blurbs because i may or may not have an angsty idea for him soon wink wink ;) this blurb is so random but i've been craving frozen yogurt so i thought this would be cute.

you grab onto your leather jacket as you see peter from across the street right next to the frozen yogurt store.

"hi." you smiled.

peter's eyes immediately lit up as he saw your smile, "hey." he smiled back.

"you look pretty nice." he says, fumbling his words — "wait- not pretty nice i mean you do i-" he pauses sighing as he couldn't find the right words, "you look pretty, and nice. really pretty and really nice."

the skies turn pink as your face does the same. "you look really pretty and nice too." you nodded.

"oh! these are for you bye the way." peter pulled a flower bouquet from his bag, a bit crumbled. "aw they're lovely." you commented as a petal fell, "they were nice."

"i'd say they held up pretty well, you got my favorite colors there too." you added.

"i'll get you new ones, that don't have missing petals on each flower." peter smiles, putting the flower back in his bag.

"well, let's get some frozen yogurt now." you say, gesturing towards the store.

peter bought you some frozen yogurt and you two talked for a while, walking towards a park as the sun begins to set.

you got to know eachother, his interests, your interests, favorite colors, food, music taste, and much much more.

you've always admired peter from afar in your class. he always stood out to you, his sarcastic humor, his well written character, the way his hair is always so perfect everyday.

he's always nice too, standing up for you that one time flash made a comment about your art studies.

but you've always just seen him as a small crush, too afraid to make any moves. until you found a note from peter in your locker, asking if you wanna hang out sometime.

you've worked with him in projects before, but you've never had an actual conversation and interaction with him.

you're nervous yes, but peter is just that type of person that you could easily talk to, like talking to an old friend you haven't seen in a while.

"you wanna try it? it's really good!" you offered, "no it's fine you go enjoy it." he nodded still smiling at you.

"it's really good, pete," — "really, try it!" you offered again as he accepts it.

"see?" you look at peter as he furrows his brows. "not a fan?" you pout.

"sour." peter states, "it's yogurt peter, say it with me, yo-gurt." you smiled.

"i mean if you like it i can learn to like it too." he shrugs his shoulder.

you smile at his sentence as you arrive at the park with peter.

you finish your frozen yogurt, sitting next to peter at the bench, getting the best view of the sunset.

you rub your hands on your jacket, warming up your hands from the cold treat you just had.

"you cold?" peter asked, "oh, no, just my hands." you reply as he looked down on your hands before gently holding it.

he looked every where else other than you, avoiding the awkwardness of eye contact.

"that is literally so cheesy." you smile, holding his hand back. "cheesy?" he laughs — "it's sweet, but cheesy." you stated.

you continued your afternoon walking around the busy streets of new york before peter walks you back home.

"tonight was really nice y/n." — "i had an amazing time with you, really." continued, "it was really nice spending time with you peter, i really enjoyed it." you wave.

"i'll see you tomorrow?" he says, referring to school. "mhm, bye pete." you wave goodbye as he skipped away.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker #peter parker x reader fluff #tasm!peter #tasm #tasm fluff #tasm!peter x reader #tasm x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter fluff #spiderman #the amazing spiderman fluff #the amazing spiderman #tasm!peter parker x reader fluff

[peppermintsparker]

it's always been you

summary -- the one where peter parker realises how badly he's messed up. cue a heart to heart with aunt may, a heartbreak and a love confession warnings -- mentions parental death (gwens dad), minor explicit language, little bit of angst and mostly fluff authors note -- this is a part two to this fic so please read that beforehand!!!

Peter Parker cannot believe how badly he had messed up. Really, if someone had tried to bestow the ‘worst person in the world’ award upon him, he wouldn’t even think to turn it down; he knows he deserves it more than anyone else possibly could. Not only had his selfishness caused Gwen to lose her father, he had also lost you. His best friend, the other half of him. The biggest and brightest part of him.

There’s a lot of things that he knows to be true: Aunt May is the best cook, grass is green, Flash Thompson is a grade A asshole. And that you are, without a doubt, the most important person in the world to him. Peter knows he loves you, more than he should love a best friend really, and he knows that losing you would be the catalyst to his downfall.

And, Peter Parker absolutely does not want to live in a world without you. Only, now he sort of is living in a world without you. He knows that he has to make it right, and he has to fix what he’s broken. Only, he’s not quite sure how he is supposed to fix something that he doesn’t know can be fixed; that’s where May Parker, the wisest woman he’s ever known, comes in.

“Y/n told me that she loves me,” Peter confesses over dinner, five days later. There’s an air of nonchalance about him that he knows will likely drive Aunt May crazy, but he needs to get through this conversation first. “I went to go see her, after Gwen’s father died. She cried, and I apologised and told her that I had kissed Gwen. When she told me that she loved me, she told me that she knew I was a boy that would never be hers.”

May looks rightfully perplexed, trying to figure out what the right thing to say in this situation would be. “How do you feel about Gwen?” She asks; a question Peter’s not sure that he knows the answer to. Though, he sort of does know the answer deep down; she’s pretty, and smart, and sweet. Gwen Stacey would totally be his type if he wasn’t in love with you.

When Peter fails to answer, May knows that it’s time to try a different approach. “Okay, picture this: you’ve graduated from school with a doctorate in mechanical engineering and now you’re working in a lab. It’s a Friday evening and it’s been a busy week and at the end of the day, you drive home. Who, and what, are you driving home to?”

It’s quiet in the kitchen as Peter thinks about it, trying to envision where he is in the future. He knows that if Gwen had asked him this question, he’d have to say it’s her. But when it’s May Parker asking, the answer feels like it could be different. And it makes him feel guilty, like he’s leading Gwen on. But it’s you, Peter thinks, it’s always been you.

“It’s Y/n,” Peter answers when dinner has long been over. May is sitting on the couch, watching a movie on the television when Peter comes to interrupt her downtime. “I’ll come home from the lab, and I’ll be tired from a long week. And, Y/n will be sitting at the kitchen table, music playing in the background, maybe from the radio or Spotify, whilst she works on her novel. Maybe we have a dog or cat, but there will be several loose pages in front of her. She’s editing, and looks tired, but still so beautiful. She saves her work, gets up to kiss me. And all the tiredness and stress just dissipates, melts away. Because I’m home. And, it’s Y/n. It’s always been Y/n.”

May smiles at him so brightly that Peter thinks that it could power New York City forever. And, he knows that he’ll have to break Gwen’s heart in order to love his best friend the way that he wants to. “Go, Peter,” May tells him, the movie forgotten about now. She doesn’t mind, she’s seen it before and her nephew needs her attention the most right now. “You have to talk to Gwen, and Y/n.”

“I can’t, May. I can’t.” Peter knows that he sounds desperate, and that there’s only so much his Aunt May can help him with. But, maybe it’ll be enough anyway. “I can’t break Gwen’s heart, not when she’s lost her dad. But Y/n is everything to me, and I don’t want to live in a world where she isn’t mine.”

“I know that Gwen has lost her father, and that is a hurt she will feel forever,” May pauses for a second, trying to gather her emotions as she thinks about Ben, and how grief is a hurt that is always felt. “But not telling her? Peter, that is going to make her feel worse. Gwen deserves better than you pretending to love her. And, she will move on and she’ll find the one for her. And in ten, or twenty, years time, she might even be grateful to you.”

Peter nods, moving to press a kiss to his aunt’s forehead before rushing to grab his skateboard from where he’d dumped it in the entrance way. He’s quick as he skateboards through the city streets, avoiding getting hit by the traffic. One knock, two knocks, three knocks before Gwen opens the door. “Peter!” Gwen exclaims, voice full of surprise. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today, you wanna come in?”

“No I, uh-” Peter pauses, trying to come up with the right words. He hates that he’s about to break Gwen’s heart, but he knows that it’s necessary for the sake of love. A deep breath before, “no, sorry. I’m not staying long. I feel like such an ass for telling you this but I can’t not tell the truth and I really am so sorry for the loss of your father and I know this isn’t a great time but Y/n told me that she loves me and I left without saying anything because I’m with you. Only, I love her. Like, a lot. And, it’s Y/n, you know? It’s always been her.”

“I know.” Gwen smiles, and Peter’s not entirely sure what to think. And, Gwen must sense the boy's confusion because, “I know it’s always been Y/n for you. The two of you have been best friends for twelve years now and I see the way that you look at her. You look at Y/n like she strung all the stars in the night sky. I won’t lie and say I’m not upset by this, because I am. But you love her. So please, Peter, go and tell her okay? I’ll be okay.”

Peter’s quick to press a kiss to Gwen’s forehead, “I love you.” He’s honest, and earnest, and even though Peter doesn’t mean it in the romantic way, it still warms Gwen’s heart to hear him say the words. “I know it’s not in the way you want me to mean it, and I’m sorry that it’ll never be you. But I love you, Gwen Stacy. And, goodbye.”

In the blink of an eye, Peter is already skateboarding back home, stopping at your house with a hopeful smile on his face. Your bedroom window is open, and Peter can hear your music playing and the sound of you typing on your keyboard and oh – how it fills his heart with joy to hear the familiar sounds of the Peter + Y/n playlist. Skateboard abandoned in a bush, he climbs up the trellis until he’s leaning against your windowsill. “Hey, you.”

You jump, whirling around on your desk chair to see the boy you’ve loved your entire life. It’s a fresh sort of pain, and you can’t help but wonder why he’s practically hanging off your windowsill. “Get in here, idiot,” you shake your head at his foolishness. Peter does so, sitting on your bed to look at you. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you meant to be with Gwen?”

“I told Gwen I don’t love her,” Peter starts, trying not to laugh at the look of pure shock and disbelief on your face. “Well, I did tell her I love her but not in the way she wants me to love her. Not in the way that I love you. Because, I do love you. I don’t know when I started loving you but I shouldn’t have left that night. I should have said it back, but-”

“Gwen.” You finished for him, and Peter just nods. Truth be told, you’re not sure what there is left to say to Peter. Everything you wanted to say, you had already said so there wasn’t much else left to say. You turn away from him, and Peter worries that he’s blown it so he hangs his head in dejection whilst you save the document you’d been working on.

“Tell me again.” You practically demand, whirling back around on your chair. You don’t know why you’re so desperate to hear him say those three magic words again; maybe it’s because you’re not entirely sure it’s real. “I need you to tell me again. Please.”

And Peter does, with a softness that could put the finest of wools to shame, three words delicately weaved together with the finest of red threads; connecting the two of you in an everlasting love that you’ve only dreamt about. “I love you. I loved you at ten years old when you finally learnt to tie your own shoelaces, I loved you at thirteen when I comforted you through your first heartbreak. I loved you at fourteen, when we were each other's first kiss. I loved you at sixteen. And I’m standing before you aged eighteen years old, and I love you.”

And this, you knew for sure: Peter Parker would always be part of you. He would always be yours.

#tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker #the amazing spiderman x reader #the amazing spiderman x you #the amazing spiderman fluff #the amazing spiderman #peach writes

[liz-allyn]

📸📸📸

CELEBRATE WITH ME!

Thank you so much, @utterly-in-like! I can’t wait to dive into your fics soon— I’m on my tasm!peter kick but I saw that you write Tony Stark, and Psych (your xover with white collar)??? Man it’s been a hot minute since I read any Psychfic.

Fun fact that’s one of the fandoms I used to write the most for back in the day. The fic I’m most proud of from that era was an insane Final Destination-themed crossover fic feat Shawn Spencer, Johnny Smith from The Dead Zone, Adrian Monk from Monk, and Xander Harris from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Yeah, it was a whole thing.

BUT enough about that - you ordered a pic of Andrew Garfield and I present to you, a GIF

This one is special. See, this one is yoga instructor!Peter Parker.

tw health/body issues, post COVID illness, sexy innuendo under the cut

You really hate your sister for this, despite her good intentions.

Instead of being a sympathetic ear to your complaints about your ping-ponging energy and your slow cardio recovery post-COVID, she went and actually tried to help you. Goddamn it—all she had to do was sit there and listen to you be miserable, with the occasional wheeze and cough as you try to do something physically taxing. Like taking out the trash. Or standing up too fast.

But no. Instead, she bought you one of those gift certificates for a package of weekly yoga classes. 12 weeks seems extravagant, and you told her so with a sour, sarcastic, “Oh. You shouldn’t have.” But then you realized it was a biweekly vinyasa in the middle of Central Park at the magic hour of 5:00am.

What a bitch.

“We can go together!” she said. “We’ll make it a thing!”

The “thing” was you showing up in the middle of a dewy field at the ass crack of dawn to greet 6 other strangers—your sister nowhere to be found—as she cancelled her membership the night before and neglected to tell you.

What a bitch.

You hate running. You have no time to go to a gym. And you haven’t ridden a bike since you were 9. But here you are, rolling out the cheapest mat you can find and an old bath towel, next to an array of all walks of life and all number of age.

Great. You’re going to wheeze with your jiggly ass in the air next to a 67-year-old Herculean, bald guy who brought nothing but too-short shorts, a beat up Neoprene bottle, and his own sweat to his practice.

You rolled your eyes, and that’s when you saw him.

The Adonis. The face of an angel. The sculpted build of a Michelangelo. This was way worse. It’s one thing to embarrass yourself in front of random strangers, but another thing to embarrass yourself in front of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

He wore a tight black tank and board shorts (fuck, was he also a surfer?) as he greeted the class, biceps bulging from the mat tucked underneath his arm.

“Morning! How’s everyone doing?” he smiled brightly.

With devastatingly dark eyes and a saccharine sweetness to his expression, his gaze landed on you and you felt your face heat up. It’s mid-50s temperature in New York this morning, and you didn’t dress warm enough, but suddenly you’re on fire and have the urge to take off more clothes.

The slightest twinkle sparked in his eyes as they landed on you. He bit his lip, taking you in. (Fuck, did he really just do that? Is there something on my face? Do I have a tit showing?)

“Are you my new student?” he grinned, something seductive and—excited?—trapped in his throat.

Your mouth was dry, nodding in a fugue state.

Student? Like he’s the teacher? You’re going to need to bring an apple to him next time. Why is your crotch already sweating?

“My name’s Peter, it’s good to have you join us,” he says, his deep voice pouring over you like honey.

Why is he staring at you like that?

“Today’s a great day to start, we’re going to take each position very slow,” he added.

Is he serious right now?

“Just try to relax,” he says with a smirk. “I’ll take good care of you.”

You’re breathing heavy again, you notice.

And Peter keeps his promise, guiding the class through gentle stretches and poses. You keep your eyes glued to his form. For science.

Muscles flexing and a light sheen sweat forming on his face.

His eyes find you more than anyone else in the group. He starts traveling through the group when he’s convinced they’ve got the sequence down. He’s a great teacher.

At some point, midway through your 3rd downward dog, you notice that he’s glided to your side. You hadn’t even seen him coming, your eyes fixed on the blades of grass in front of your face, when you feel two large hands gently press around your pelvic crest.

Your heart stutters the second he touches you, and the butterflies in your stomach carry the wind from your lungs.

“Just like this,” Peter whispers, only loud enough for you to hear, as he guides your hips back into a more pointed position. “You’re doing so well.” You notice him line up your hips with his, and you swear he could lift you up by your pelvis with just the strength of his fingers.

You love downward dog. You love anything with dogs. Doggy style, all the way. Every time.

And with his help, goddamn it, the stretch is satisfying. You feel your spine start to decompress. Air fills your lungs in short measured breaths. His hands remain on you, encompassing your hips and the small of your back, pulling you into a delicious pose.

“Right there. Does that feel good?” he coos.

This mother Hubbard.

You moan. And then clear your throat. “Yeah,” you cough, trying to recover.

You can’t see his face but you can feel the body heat reverberating from him. And you can hear that cocky grin in his voice as he whispers back. “Good girl.”

Somehow, you survived. It was at the end of the class, when everyone else bolted and you were struggling to roll up your mat and ignore just how SWEATY your crotch was, when Peter kneeled down in front of you to help you. You gaped at his long fingers, curling the rubber into a neat cylinder.

“So how was it? I hope we didn’t go too hard on you.” His voice was like warm syrup. His eyes were dark chocolate pools. His lips looked like sugar-coated cherries.

He was bad for your health, without a doubt.

“No, um, it-it was g-good,” you shyly replied. “I’m just a little rusty.”

“Well, we can work on that,” he gazed at you with a lazy half smile. It was clear he found your timidness amusing. Appetizing, even. “See you next week?”

“Yes,” you blurted out, without hesitation. “Thank you. Thank you, Master.”

Your eyes went wide, locked on his. The word drifted into the atmosphere, a balloon swept away, never to return. He quirked a brow upward.

Your face turned crimson. “Teacher,” you stuttered “Teach— Guru? I… I don’t know why I said that.”

He licked his lips as he stared at yours, unabashed and unafraid.

“We can work on that, too.”

CELEBRATE WITH ME!

Thank you for supporting fandom writers with a reblog and/or comment!

#lizzy’s 600. #Lizzy’s 600 celebration. #Lizzy writes! #peter parker x reader #Peter Parker imagines #Peter Parker blurb #Peter Parker Drabble #Peter Parker #tasm peter Parker #tasm!peter au #the amazing spiderman x reader #the amazing Spider-Man #the amazing spiderman #the amazing spiderman fluff #tasm imagine #tasm spiderman #andrew garfield spiderman #Andrew Garfield #andrew garfield x reader #Andrew Garfield x you #Peter Parker x reader #Peter Parker x you

[alwaysmoncheri]

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.

#my works ──★ ˙☕️ ̟ !! #tasm! peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm!peter smut #tasm!peter angst #tasm! peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker drabble #the amazing spider man #andrew garfield

[literaila]

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

*

“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.

*

#tasm peter x reader #andrew!spiderman #the amazing spider-man #peter parker #peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #spider-man #the amazing spider man #tasm #tasmania #tasm 2 #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm spiderman #tasm!peter imagine #tasm fanfiction #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter parker #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter smut #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm!spiderman x you #andrew garfield #andrew!peter parker #andrew!peter x reader #andrew!peter imagine #marvel fanfic #marvel

[irndad]

TULIP WITH THE GUY EVER

this is for peter!! im feral for this man my god this is long for nothing happening- guys i am SO fucking rusty prompt: an act of affection so blatant everyone notices roommate!peter &lt;;3 flower prompts

It’s hard not to look at her. 

There’s so much to observe, so much to place his attention on- how she smiles, the way she taps the sides of her mugs before she sips her tea. She’s a vision in red lipstick and he’s the kind of person that’s blessed to be in her presence. 

It’s a Friday night, and there’s a sweet sort way that she curls into herself. She’s been his friend for just about a minute longer than he’s been in love with her, and he’d like to think he does a decent job at hiding this fact.

He landed on his hip today, from a height far enough off the ground that it still hurts, pain radiating from every step as he walks home. The commute is actually quite far from his internship at the newspaper, but he likes the area he lives, and the woman whose company he keeps while he lives there. He makes concessions. 

Still, he’d been looking forward to the sight of her since the ache began. Her presence had a way of soothing. 

She’s curled up onto an inherited recliner in their shared apartment, and when he bursts their creaky door open in a fluid motion, he’s greeted with this sight. She’s not alone- some friends from her graduate program on their Ikea couch. 

It’s girls night, and it’s his dutiful role to say a quick quip and head back to his room. Her two best friends are over, legs splayed over each other in an open display of affection that he adores witnessing. He could hear the laughter and yelling from outside the apartment itself. He likes how they make her laugh, how they seem to make her heart lighter when he can tell she’s not able to carry the weight of everything by herself. 

“Peter!” She’s the first to even notice he’s around, and he tries not to let the stubborn firework in his chest keep exploding at the thought of it. At the thought, she sees me. Her voice is warm and kind and weightless, and he drinks in  the sight of her. Their floor lamp illuminates her in warm golden light, a coupe glass with red wine held in delicate fingers. 

“Hey, you,” he replies, an unmistakable warmth he can’t seem to rid himself of in his tone. He tries not to seem disappointed, like he’d not been imagining watching an irrelevant TV show, a little too close together until they’d fallen asleep just that way.

As he’s hanging his withered coat, he asks, “What are you guys up to tonight?”

Her friend explains that they are watching the Spy Kids trilogy in order, and she nods dutifully along. 

“That sounds wonderful,” he can’t help but laugh. “I’ll leave you guys be-“ 

And it’s no surprise, when they send a him a chorus of please join, and you’re welcome to be here! 

She stands up to give him a hug goodnight (because she wants to kill him), and he envelops her before he can stop himself. She smells like a mixture of lavender and rose and sweet red wine, and he’s grateful for his heightened senses for a moment; it doesn’t take long to memorize it all. 

It occurs to him that he won’t see her until morning, and he takes in the sight of her again, eyes raking over her. She really is beautiful- lovely in a way that radiates her smile, follows her in action. His hands rest on the curve of her waist, and something and things being made to fit one another cross his mind, against his better judgement. God, he could spend forever looking at her, longer touching her. 

He only pulls away when he hears a muffled pair of laughs, failed attempts at not interrupting a moment. Which is absurd, because there is no moment. None. 

She beams at him despite the laughter of those she holds dear, and it aches saying goodbye to her. She's just down the hall and it hurts to leave.

He slinks off to his bedroom smelling like her perfume, blushing bright red and maybe, just maybe, the tiniest bit hopeful. And he thinks he might of heard the faint whisper of two other people, whispering questions he mulls over every day.

"Just roommates, huh?"

#the amazing spider man #andrew garfield #andrew garfield spiderman #spiderman #spiderman x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker oneshot #peter parker blurb #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #tasm #tasm peter parker x reader #andrew g

[writtenbymoonflower]

Unpretty

You are insecure and Peter is oblivious. tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

cw: reader had very negative thoughts about body image. mentions of weight and general body image issues. i tried to keep it as neutral as possible so everybody could read and relate, so it can be read as plus!size reader or not.

1.5k words

The position you were in wasn’t unnecessarily uncomfortable. The physical part felt really nice, actually. Peter was laid on his side, nose nuzzled into your hair while you were in his arms flat on your back. His even breathing was soothing and you felt close and warm. 

Emotionally, however, you felt confused. 

You had to resist cringing every time you remembered that Peter’s large hand was spread over the bottom of your tummy, likely feeling everything “wrong” about it. He could definitely feel it wasn’t as flat or firm as you would like it to be, even through your thick crewneck. And even though you logically knew it was impossible, you felt the stinging insecurity all over your body, like he was touching you everywhere you hated. Your brain was telling you that through feeling the soft part of your stomach, he could also feel and see where your thighs were too big, where stretchmarks were painted all over your body, and where your skin wasn’t completely smooth. 

He probably would hate my body as much as I do if he could see. The little voice in your head nagged. 

Obviously, you knew that wasn’t true. You knew that everyone had little things that bothered them and yours weren’t even especially unusual. You also knew that voicing these thoughts to Peter would likely lead to you being even more self-conscious and him being confused. Or even worse, him pitying you. You were snapped out of your spiral by Peter’s shifting in position. 

“What’re you thinking of, baby?” Peter whispered. To your horror, his hand started rubbing your stomach over your sweater. “I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears.” He laughed the way he does when trying to calm you down, like he doesn’t think it’s funny but it might be less intimidating if you believe he does. You turned your head to look at him. Being this close didn’t allow you to see his full face, but you could see one of his pretty brown eyes, looking at you with far too much love for your heart to handle.

“Not thinking of anythin’ really.” You kept your voice as even as possible and hoped he didn’t hear the nervous hitch in your breath as he reached under the hem of your sweatshirt to touch your skin. You panicked and tried to cover by grabbing his hand in yours and holding it between your ribs, right under your chest. He looked confused but still stroked your hand with his thumb.

“Yeah okay.” He was sarcastic and rolling his eyes but his voice was still light. He brought your joined hands up to kiss the veins on your wrist, closing his eyes and letting his lips linger for a good few seconds. All while still burning his eyes over your face, letting his pupils linger over a feature before jumping to the next, admiring your whole face with so much care you would cry. 

“What?” You asked, growing shy under his intense stare. 

“You’re so pretty, baby.” He was still smiling at you like a fool. “So so pretty.” He sing-songed. He urged you to lay on top of him with his arms, but you held fast in your place. Your boyfriend apparently took this as a challenge, because he showed off his real strength by pulling you fast onto his chest. 

“Peter!” You said, scolding and nervous and flustered all at once. 

“What?” He asked smugly, with a look of triumph on his face. You ducked your head out of his eyesight. “Baby, what’s up?” He asked again, more sincere. You still didn’t answer, your anxiety was roaring too loud in your head. You were probably crushing him under your weight. His hands were planted on your hips, likely feeling the extra fat and getting grossed out. He was just too nice to say anything. He was also too far close to your face for comfort, definitely seeing patches of oily skin or blemishes littering your face. It all became too much for you and you tried to roll off of him, but he gripped onto you harder. 

“Peter, let me off.” You kept your voice light but you were panicking inside. 

“Yeah, not happening.” He stayed stubborn as a mule. 

“But I’m heavy, I’ll crush you.” You said desperately. 

“Good.” He rebutted, still acting as if this was a casual conversation. 

“Peter, I’m serious. I’m too heavy for this. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Your voice trailed off, getting quieter towards the end. The whole sentence was soaked in shame that Peter hadn’t yet picked up on. Now, there was a concerned crease between his eyebrows. 

“Huh?” He looked genuinely confused. “What put that dumb idea in your head? ‘Too heavy’ for what, exactly?” He started as if he was about to rant, but cut it short. To your dismay, he pulled more of your weight onto him. 

“It’s not dumb, it’s true. I’m just too heavy” You argued back. He couldn’t really be that oblivious. Anyone with eyes could see it. 

“Oh I’m sorry,” He started sassing, like he actually wasn’t sorry at all. “I didn’t know that you now were the only deciding judge of something being ‘too much.’” He was being defiant on purpose. 

“Peter, please.” All joking and argumentativeness had left your tone, just leaving shame and sadness. Peter softened at this and encouraged your head up to meet his eyes, holding your jaw firmly so you couldn’t look away. He looked like he was slowly putting pieces together in his head. 

“Baby,” He started, still not breaking eye contact with you. “Is this why you’ve not been letting me touch you as much?” Peter looked so sad, it didn’t suit him at all and you wanted to make it better immediately. “Do you think there’s something wrong with you, that I would think there’s something wrong with you?” On the last sentence he was extra distressed, like he couldn’t believe the words were leaving his mouth. 

“I just-” You were trying to articulate your feelings without making this any worse. “I mean, not every part of me is pretty, you know that.” You tried to say it casually but Peter’s expression didn’t lighten at all. Instead, his bottom lip jutted out and his eyes got wider, looking like a cartoonishly sad puppy who was denied a treat. 

“I don’t know that, actually.” He moved his hand to the back of your head, threading his fingers in your hair. “You don’t think you’re pretty?” He said the last part like his heart was cracking. And in Peter’s mind, it was. His baby was thinking badly of herself, and even worse, she was thinking he thought badly of her. 

“I mean,” You cringed as the words left your mouth, wanting desperately for the conversation to end. “Not really. At least, there is a lot about me that could be a lot better.” Peter was at a loss for words. You had obviously mulled this over and were solid in your opinion. 

“I don’t think there is. I think you are perfect. I love everything about you.” He said softly, his voice missing its usual teasing tone.

“But-” You started, but cut yourself off. 

“But what?” Your argumentative boyfriend was back. “C’mon. Talk to me, baby.”

“I just-” You gathered your thoughts as best you could. He was really being difficult. There was no way he hadn’t noticed something. You also really did not want to say your insecurities out loud. It was too raw. But you knew Peter, and he wouldn’t back off without you giving something. “My stomach isn’t flat.” You said, as if that was enough argument for you being disgusting. 

“Okay?” He actually laughed at this, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “And?” 

You rolled your eyes, irritated. “And, in general I’m just too big. And my skin isn’t good either. It just doesn’t all add up very well does it?” You resisted the urge to cry, you didn’t want to add that on top of this already stressful discussion. 

“Sweetheart,” He looked exasperated. “I think- I think you’re being really mean and unfair to yourself.” He searched for the right words. “Everyone has things about themselves they don’t like, yeah? But you should know, you are not too anything, and there is nothing about your looks or body that is ‘not good.’’ He said every word firmly. “And most importantly, there is nothing, absolutely nothing about your body that I dislike, or that you should worry about me seeing or touching, okay?” His voice was soft during the last few sentences, like he was speaking to a little kid with a scraped knee. It made it a lot harder to resist crying. “Okay?” he said, still looking directly into your eyes. 

“Okay.” You said, watery. You swallowed hard and buried your face in his chest, feeling all too many emotions. “Thank you, Pete.” You didn’t think you could say anything else without falling apart. 

“It’s okay. I'ts alright. It’s what I’m here for.” He stroked the back of your head, still being gentle. “Just do me a favor, yeah?” 

“Mhm?” You muffled.

“Just, make my job easier for me next time. Tell me when you’re feeling like this, okay baby?” He pleaded as he pressed a kiss to your hair. 

“Okay. I will.” 

“Good. Now cuddle me please.” Demanding Peter was back. “And put all your weight on me, it’s no good otherwise.” 

#tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm spiderman #tasm!peter x you #tasm!spiderman x reader #fluff #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm peter parker drabble #peter parker x reader #drabble #hurt/comfort #peter parker hurt/comfort #the amazing spider man

[madxyy]

Selfish

| pairing : peter x reader

| summary: your boyfriend comes home injured--as usual--late at night and you can't help but want him safe from his life as spider-man

| warnings: fluff, touching wrists (sigh, again), y/n used once, baby used, peter being cute and angsty as usual, reader also being cute, light angst

author's note: i am trying to write angst so bare with me lol

2 am. 

It’s always when you hear that faint knock on your window that makes all your worries wash away in a split second. But not today, no, today was different. You were waiting all night to hear that thud on the firescape or the cries of the window seal being opened. All night you were absorbed in your own anxieties and worries. Your hopes were dreading as time went by. You were getting scared for the local crime fighting hero and you did everything in your power to take your mind off it.

You really did. 

Drawing, watching tv, listening to music, cleaning the room—which was a bad idea as it just bought you a reminder of the boy who has your heart. You would stumble upon Peter's belongings that were scattered around your shared apartment like confetti: his engineering notes, his sweaters, his latest sketch of a brilliant idea he had to improve his spider-man suit. It only made your heart ache even more, longing for his presence and increasing your worries for your vigilante boyfriend. So you would take another route and try binge-watching a new season of a recent tv show you are watching, which would likely just be collecting dust in the column of ‘continue watching.’

Your mind keeps on going back to him. ‘He’s okay. He’s okay.’ You thought to yourself. ‘He’s coming back to me. He’ll be alright. He’s probably on his way right now. It’s just going to be a scratch, hopefully. He's going to be okay, right? Oh god. Oh god.’ 

As much as you love and adore that your boyfriend is helping the city and its people by saving anyone from another lab experiment gone wrong or from a dangling car that’s about to fall off a bridge, you can't help but wonder if he would ever take care of himself. It’s hard seeing him everytime he comes through your window with a new bruise on his keen jawline, a wound on his ribs, a scar on his hip. You couldn’t deal with it anymore. You wish he stopped just for his own safety. You know it’s selfish but is it so wrong to want him safe? Just the thought of turning on the news and seeing J. Jameson reporting: “Breaking News: Our local friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man reported dead by …” 

You want him back with you already, his arms wrapped around you, drowning you into his warm embrace, so distinctly Peter, while he whispers soft and reassuring words that always mend your heart. You long to hear his random facts about science, see his lopsided smile that always welcomes you back into reality whenever you wake up next to him each morning. You yearn for his contagious laugh that makes your heart throb in delight over the euphonious sound. You want to smile at the tics he does when he gets nervous or the way he avoids eye contact and scratches the back of his neck when he is stuck in an awkward situation. You want him to be back so you can smooch the newly embedded scars that are planted all over his body which you love kissing away everyday when he wakes up. You want to see his dimples that adorn his face when he smiles wide enough because he finally got his web shooters to work, followed by a triumph fist bump to the air. You want to see his eyes, oh his eyes: brown, soft, autumnal, brimming with love and warmth, despite the grief and cruelty he has been absorbed in. His scent, a mix of cedarwood and asphalt (due to his high-flying urban adventures). You want to see the way his hair sticks up in the morning whilst the sun gives it a mixture of honey and bronze aura, running your hands through the mused up tufts of hair, which always leads to the corners of his eyes crinkling up as a sleepy, boyish smile tugs up on his rosy lips. 

Selfish. You can’t help it. 

You waited as long as you could; staring at your window for who knows how long. Your eyes were trained on the window for a good while, but you couldn't help it, all this anxiety finally got to you and you were feeling drained and your posture slumps with exhaustion. Your eyes burn from keeping them open, and soon those same eyes start to slowly droop. Blinking back sleepiness proved futile; your head eventually settled onto the cool silk of your pillow. The material greets your cheek, making it easier for you to be welcomed into slumber. 

It was 4 am, yet your worries haven’t gone down at all. Your eyelids started to grow heavier, and darkness gradually enveloped your senses, until you heard a faint knock on your window, piercing the silence. 

Your heart leapt, and you twisted towards the sound. In an instant, sleep was gone.

Not even a second later you heard your window opening—mm the sound of the cries. Your tired, red eyes snapped open. You were met with a disheveled and drained Peter Parker. His hair sticking to the nape of his neck and forehead, sweat giving him a post-shower appearance. A large laceration marred his chest. Oh. Your stomach dropped, eyes widened with horror at the sight of the injury. It looked like he was scratched -- no, clawed by someone or something. With quick motion, you quickly peel away the sheets, disentangling yourself from its soft embrace, and quickly hurrying to his side.

“Peter” you gasped softly. A hand settles onto his latex-clad one, the other arm wrapping around his waist to support him as you guide both him towards your bed, placing him where you had lain just seconds before. “It’s not that bad, don’t worry about it, seriously, I mean you should see the o-” Peter quickly swallows his words upon seeing your stern glare. He slumps his head downwards as he sighs in defeat. 

You sigh, telling him quietly that you'll be back soon. You left him for a few moments before coming back with a wet rag. Gently, you tug at the suit, trying to cautiously take it off him without aggravating his wounds. Soon, you were met with his bare torso, which is marked with a huge claw mark. You mentally steel yourself before starting to lightly clean around the injury, dabbing the wet rag gently onto his toned chest as you avoid his eyes. It’s not like you were trying to make him feel bad, but you were also trying to cope with the situation. You don’t know if you were mad, relieved, sad, maybe all of the above? Uncertain emotions swirl within you, but one fact anchors your turbulent thoughts: he is here, safe, and alive. That's what truly matters.

Peter seems to catch your avoided gaze, he studies you for a few minutes. Biting the inside of his cheek as he purses his lips to the side, trying to figure out how to approach this situation. He takes in your furrowed eyebrows, the way you’re also biting the inside of your cheek as you put all your strength into avoiding his worried amber eyes. He knew the consequences of inviting someone into his dangerous life, it wasn’t exactly a warm and inviting embrace, nor was it appealing, but what he didn’t fully grasp is how it truly hurts you, in more ways than one.  “Y/N…” he whispered, rough hands that have been through so much and experienced so much, reaching for the comfort of your skin but you gently dodge his touch, leading to a sudden twinge of anguish in his heart. You give him a slight smile to distinguish any suspicion – I mean, you weren’t doing a good job at it – before you continued cleaning the dirt away from his injury. Peter’s eyebrows furrow while his lips start to droop downwards, a frown laid upon his lips at the rejection. 

Biting the inside of your cheek harder to stop the tears from flowing down the curve of your cheekbones. You keep on wiping his cuts clean, overs and overs again, getting flashbacks of his visits from the last time you had to patch him up. Blurred vision starts taking over your eyesight and all you can think about is his pain, what he goes through, his blood, the thought of losing him, life without him, the many ‘what ifs.’ The many times he almost visited death's door. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, it was like a burning sensation bubbling in the back of your throat, the sadness was too hard to keep buried down now. You started shaking and before you knew it your sobs filled the walls and all your fears were coming out of you in the form of a liquid pea that contained so much. As soon as the warm liquid left a path down the curve of your cheeks, peter panicked and rose to action just like the hero he is—your hero. 

Quickly sitting up and fixing his posture, which made him wince slightly from the injuries but he pushed through, his mind set on you and only you. He wipes the tear away with the pad of his thumb and takes the wet rag away from your slightly shaky grip; gently putting it on your nightstand before he lightly reaches both of his hands out and holds onto your wrists.

“I can't” You choke out a sob. 

“Hey shh it’s okay baby, what’s wrong? You can’t, what? Tell me,” He coos. 

He hunches down, trying to find those eyes of yours that he swears are otherworldly, but you just can’t. You can’t see him like this. Hurt. In pain. Suffering. It pains you that he is in this much pain -- you can’t. “Peter I just… ” he gently takes your face in his hand, caressing your cheekbones with his thumbs that are growing wet from your moist cheeks. His heart hurts from the sight of you crying, it conjures a deep-seated throb of pain in his eyes. “Look at me,” he whispers softly, gently nudging your head up with his right hand that is slowly descending down to grasp your chin as if you were a treasure, in a way you are, to peter you are his treasure, the main reason he even gets up or even tries, you are his rock, the only thing that makes sense in his life, and god does he love you, he loves you so much that his heart hurts. A quiet sigh escapes you, it sounds defeated. “Please,” He pleaded oh-so-gently, his gaze unwavering but patient. You sniffle before swallowing down a ball of saliva forming in your throat. As soon as you look up you are met with a pair of almond-shaped umber eyes that are filled with the utmost care, worry, and a hint of guilt. 

“Talk to me..” he whispers desperately, his heart crushing at the pain you are experiencing, he just wants to take it all away with his soft whispers but he knows they will be in vain. Shakingly exhaling “I can’t,” you frantically shake your head. “Please baby…” A few silent beats pass before you finally look back up to find those amber eyes looking back at you with nothing but worry and sincerity. 

You take a deep breath before swallowing deeply ”Peter...I just…” another beat passes. You take a sharp deep breath. “I just really wish you would take more care of yourself, I...I know you love saving people and fighting crime and trust me I love you deeply for that but you come home everyday with a new wound that’s even deadlier than the last one,” You pause, licking your salty lips. “aren’t you worried that maybe those people that you save won’t have anyone to save them if they’re local neighborhood spider-man won’t be there to save them anymore..?” You ask him, almost in a plea. Peter bites the inside of his cheek, thinking over your words with a solemn expression forming on his face that are littered in small cuts from his last escapades. He diverts his gaze to the floor and the room is quickly overcome with silence as he takes in your words, letting the heaviness of your words sink in.

The silence fills the room, it lets you both engulf into your own thoughts. Peter knew what it meant when he finally told you he was the unmasked superhero. He remembers spilling his deadly secret on a rooftop late at night, where you both were admiring the stars, laying on a blanket and talking about anything and everything. He remembers looking over at you and admiring the way the moon was cascading down on you, making you look even more angelic and completely ethereal. 

Peter looks at you hurt and guilty and god do you hate that. Both of you guys shared a gaze that held so much that it made the room feel denser as the distant sounds of ambulances filtered through the slightly open window. A breeze wafts in, brushes against you both, causing small goosebumps to prick up on your skin. Peter grew to learn from his past relationships and the impact it had on his partner knowing he was Spider-Man, which is why it hurts him to know he is the one making you feel like this. A calloused hand slowly creeps up, gently grasping your cheek with the utmost care, as if you were made of glass and he was scared of causing further harm. “I know, I know,” He murmurs, his voice breaking while his toughened fingers absentmindedly traces the curve of your cheek. “It’s just so hard to stop when I know I can make a difference.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat as his words sink in. Your heart breaks knowing how much his words are true and the scary reality that he won’t stop until crime is put to bed and everyone can roam around the streets freely. You shook your head, one hand gently grasping his wrist. “But at what price, Pete?” you ask ever-so-softly like the question itself was forbidden territory. Those eyes that he loves so deeply, look up into his eyes and it causes a gnawing feeling in his chest, almost making him wince from how hurt you look, how scared you look. Peter bites the inside of his cheek a bit harder while furrowing his brows, trying to think of what to tell you because he himself doesn’t know.

He takes a shaky breath, adjusting the grip on your face and slowly pulling your head a bit closer until both of your foreheads are resting against one another, a silent plea for understanding in his eyes. The brush of skin itself was tender-filled, telling a millions of words with just one movement. “I am just sick of all the crimes happening here and the cops not even doing anything about it.” Peter whispered, his voice a low blend of anger and helplessness. You could feel the raggedness of his breath, each exhale a testament to the battles he fought alone in the shadows of the city. The close proximity allowed you to see the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his eyes shuttered as if bracing against a storm of inner conflict. “Peter, I know you care – it’s one of the things I love about you,” you respond gently, reaching up to smooth a stray lock of hair from his clammy forehead. “But you can’t carry this burden alone. It’s too much for one person, even for Spider-Man.” Your voice was a soothing whisper, trying to pierce the armor of duty he wore so steadfastly.  

Peter simply nodded, the weight of the world momentarily lightened by your understanding. You saw the fortress around his heart crumbling, if only just a bit. His eyes, usually so vibrant and full of life, now shimmered with unshed tears, reflecting the constant battle between his duty and his love for you.

“I’m sorry…” Peter’s voice broke through the silence, each word heavy with remorse. He leans forwards, delicately kissing your forehead which grounds you and makes you close your eyes momentarily as you cherish the soft kiss that eases your heart just a bit. “I am sorry for not fully understanding what you are going through. I am so, so sorry,” He whispers into the dark night, the words flowing into the air as gently as ever. A few beats of silence pass while you take in his words. It gave your weary heart time to mend. Peter leaned back slightly so he could get a better look at you, his gaze locked with yours, conveying a depth of sincerity and vulnerability. “I’m truly, deeply, sorry” He whispers once more before he starts to softly press kisses underneath where your ear and jaw meet, your cheeks, forehead, nose, the wrinkles in the middle of your eyebrows, smoothing them out with the pad of his thumb, and finally kissing your lips, so delicately, it makes you want to cry even more. 

The kiss was so deliberate, it was a bundle of promises that his lips sealed to keep, an abundance of love, tenderness, deep affection and care that runs so deeply into his veins that it affects his touches and kisses, he can’t help but pour it all into the kiss, he just wanted you to know how sorry he is. He wanted you to know that he never meant to hurt you, whether it was indirect or direct. It makes your heart flutter and reassures your timid heart. Slowly one hand moves to cup the left side of your face as his other hand descends down towards the side of your neck as peter tastes the saline on your moist-tear lips, but even that doesn’t stop him from pressing gentle kisses against your lips, it only fuels his love, turning the kisses even more tender. Each kiss conveys a message of “I’m sorry, I love you, please know I love you.” You can taste the metallic on his lips as your lips were caressing his back as equally gently and lovingly, your kisses filled with a message of “It’s okay, I love you.” 

Peter slowly pulls back from the kiss, his mouth hovers over yours, his breath fanning over your lips, noses rubbing against each other in the tenderest manner ever. Both of your eyes were still closed, taking in everything, cherishing one another. His right hand moving back up to cradle your face, both hands cradling your cheeks and caressing them with the pad of his thumbs in a feather-like caress. You nuzzle your cheek against his right hand, feeling the rough and calloused palm that you grew to admire and adore. It always provided you with such care and comfort, always caressing or reaching out to gently touch you. Both of your hands now encircled around his wrist, caressing the inside of it so softly that it makes Peter almost melt.

Slowly, Peter opens his eyes. His amber gaze held nothing but love and the utmost care. Shortly after he opened his eyes, your eyes opened as well. Both of you search each other’s eyes as a white noise of admiration passes you both. After a moment of silent communion, the air between you both thickens with unspoken words and shared feelings, Peter finally speaks, his voice a soft murmur against the quiet room. “I can’t promise there won’t be more nights like this,” he says, his honesty laying bare the truth of both of your lives entwined with danger and uncertainty. “But I promise you, no matter how many crazy guys in suits I have to fight, I’ll always do my best to come back… to this, to us.”

This promise, simple yet profound, strikes a chord within you. It’s not a heroic declaration from Spider-Man, but a heartfelt vow from Peter Parker, the boy behind the mask, the one you fell in love with. His words acknowledge the reality of his life—danger is part of the package, yet he’s equally committed to your shared life, to you, and he isn’t going anywhere.

You feel a surge of mixed emotions: fear for the dangers he faces, gratitude for his honesty, and love for the person he is. “And I’ll be here,” you say, matching his tone with a blend of seriousness and affection, “not just to patch you up and be your personal nurse, but to love you.” The corners of his lips quirk up, his eyes twinkling with love as he takes in your words. He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, a silent vow of his commitment. “Thank you,” he whispers, gratitude resonating in his voice, “for everything.”

“Of course,” You whispered. 

The two of you stay like that, embraced in the warmth of your love for one another, finding comfort in the silence that now speaks volumes. The world outside, with its chaos and challenges, seems momentarily distant as you both cherish this safe haven of understanding and love you’ve created together.

#andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #the amazing spider man #andrew garfield #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #spiderman #tasm andrew garfield #light angst #fluff #peter parker fluff #tasm fluff

[lovelettersforthedamned]

sex pollen with tasm?

Interlinked

--genre + trope: sex pollen, SMUT, fluff, nsfw.

--pairing: tasm!peter parker x afab!reader

--word count: 1.5k

--warnings: SMUT, unprotected PinV (don't even think about it), multiple orgasms, creampie, kissing, mentions of being sore, fluff at the end.

--gif credits: @tvandfilm

If you could live in this moment, you would. You’re sitting on Peter’s bed, faint rhythms of his music playing in the background. Having your laptop open, you were able to look through the work you needed to finish before the day was done. Having Peter next to you puts you in a state of ease. You knew he was right next to you, you knew he was safe. 

Peter’s spent the last hour or so working on new varieties of web fluid, mixing together different chemicals to see if anything would change. He already had a few things in a large beaker, swirling it around occasionally, when he mixed in a powder of some sort. The reaction caused a small ignition, causing you to look up from your spot on the mattress. “What was that,” you ask, looking for his reaction to gauge how severe this was. 

He rises from his chair, “I’m not sure, but let’s open the windows.”

You climb towards the windows of his room, pulling them open to let fresh air in, and whatever was in the air, out. You weren’t aware of this yet, but your skin was absorbing the particles in the air, and every breath you took allowed the unknown reaction to enter your system. And, of course, Peter was in the direct line of the reaction, causing the particles to make their way directly onto his face, the fragments fluttering onto his cheeks. 

Peter’s heightened senses caused him to feel the effects of the reaction much quicker than you. His pupils dilated, the hairs on his arms stand, and he starts to feel warm. Stepping away from the window, he looks over at you, and suddenly, he is hyperfocused on you. The smell of the perfume you applied hours ago is now flooding his nose, your heart rate has elevated, and much to your dismay, he also took note of the growing wetness in between your thighs. 

You’re the first to speak up, “Pete,” your voice is shaky with concern, “What’s going on? Why do I feel weird?”

He rubs his hands along his face, trying to come up with an answer, but the growing ache in his cock cuts him short, “Bug, I–I don’t know, but I need to go.” He doesn’t know what’s happening, but his now primal urge to get to you scares him. He needed to get away from you.

His answer only made you more nervous, “Wait! Baby, don’t leave.” You reach out, grabbing his hand. The touch between you two felt like waves of pure energy, you pulled your hand back quickly, rubbing the area that just touched him, “Please, don’t leave, I’m scared and I don’t know what to do, especially not alone.”

“I’m sorry…I just–I’m so confused, I–,” he’s cut off by a kiss. 

You were hungry for him, your lips devouring his. Peter didn’t seem to care, he needed this as much as you did. Craving more of his touch, your hands reach down towards the bottom of his torso. You slide your palms along the sides of his shirt, running them along the front of him, quickly undressing him in the process. As soon as you reached the top of his chest, you slipped the shirt over his head, tossing the garment over your shoulder. 

He unlatches from your lips, takes a breath, and mutters the last coherent sentence said for the rest of the night, “Will you let me have you tonight?” A smirk displays itself on your lips, and an eager nod gives him all he needs at that moment. 

Walking towards the bed, you stumble back blindly before the back of your knees are met with the bed, causing you to fall back onto the plush mattress. Peter stands above you, licking his lips as he places himself above you, caging you in his arms. Attacking your lips, Peter moves one of his hands to palm at the flesh of your hip, reaching underneath your underwear to make direct contact with your bare skin. 

You moan into his mouth, the skin-to-skin contact igniting a wave of pleasure to flow to your core. He takes note of your increased desperation for more of his touch, moving his hand from your hip to your aching clit, making small circles on the slick skin. Arching your back into his chest, you reach your hands up to grasp at his shoulders, the sudden pleasure shocking you. Peter unlatches from your lips to look at you below him, the sight making his cock ache with need. It only takes a few more circles on your clit to make you cum, but still, you needed more. 

You waste no time, pulling off every piece of clothing on your body, before you reach down towards Peter’s jeans, pushing them down as far as possible before Peter has to kick the rest of them off. There’s a silent exchange of glances before he lines up with your entrance. A quick nod signals to Peter that you’re ready. 

Lifting both of your ankles to rest on his shoulders, he finally pushes inside of you. The world around you stops. For a few seconds, there is a sigh of relief, the ache you’ve been meaning to satisfy has dissipated. You thought you found the cure, but the clench of your walls snapped you out of your relief. Peter seemed to realize this too as a moan left his lips, his head dipping forward. The desperation returned, and you needed Peter to move. “Baby…pl–please. Move,” you manage to mumble. 

He starts to sink into you further, stretching you out in the process. Every movement causes you to squeeze him a little tighter, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to last, especially with those whimpers leaving your mouth. He can’t stand to keep moving at this pace, every second spent not pounding you into the mattress is a second wasted. He needs you, desperately. Peter pulls almost all the way out, exerting a pathetic whine from you before he slams back into your entrance. The pressure of his cock dragging along your walls made you claw at his neck, the angle of your legs pressed against your chest making you see stars. 

You’re not sure how long he’s been fucking you, but your hips have started to become sore, and the number of times you’ve come is blurring between four or five times. The effects of whatever hit you earlier are slowly wearing off, but Peter hasn’t let up. If you had to guess, you would assume that his senses and increased stamina have allowed him to feel everything you felt, but increased tenfold. 

It’s gotten to the point where you know that Peter’s not even trying to make you cum again, he’s using you for his own pleasure, and that in itself is enough for you to cum again and again and again. His hips stutter and his brows furrow, you know he’s right there, he’s just about to cum, and it’s killing him. Bringing your hand up to hold his cheek, he snaps his eyes open, tears are lining his waterline. You pull his face down, connecting your lips together. The extra touch of your lips pushes him over the edge. As he finishes inside of you, he lets out a grunt into your mouth, this action alone making you moan back, the thought of him cumming inside of you lights a fire inside of you. 

Your lips detach from his, taking a deep breath before you feel Peter’s fingers reach up toward your calves, slowly bringing them down onto the bed. He guides them down, knowing that the position has led to soreness in their hips. When you feel the plush blanket touch your thighs, you finally are able to come to your senses. 

Peter comes down to lay next to you on his stomach, looking at your side profile. Closing your eyes, you feel the weight of exhaustion finally hit you. There’s no way you’re leaving this bed any time soon, and Peter knows that too. You don’t feel Peter’s warmth next to you anymore. Opening your eyes, you look over to where he should’ve been, then to the doorway. There he was, holding a glass of water, walking to your side, and placing it on the table next to you. 

Then, falling into the bed, he remains next to you. “Whatever you did for that web fluid,” your voice cutting through the silent air, “write it down, and make sure to put it somewhere safe.” 

You’re still looking up at the ceiling as Peter grabs your hand, raising it to his lips and giving you a kiss, “I will, I will. I’ll lock it up…only until you ask me to use it again.” Looking towards him, a stupid smile is firmly locked onto his lips, a hint of amusement in his eyes. 

You shake your head in disbelief, “Oh, like you won’t want to use it again next week.”

“We’ll see about that, bug.”

--author's note: this is my favorite smut trope, and i'm still awful at writing it LMAOOO. also what happened to these remaining blurbs??? my incapability to write smut blurbs is insane, but anyways i hope you liked it!!! also the gif??? i'm foaming at the mouth and ripping at these iron bars...don't forget to support your writers by liking, commenting, and reblogging!! KEEP SENDING IN ASKS!!! my inbox is open my loves! ok, bye ily<3

#andrew garfield peter parker #peter parker #peter parker x reader #marvel #fluff #spiderman #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #peter parker smut #tasm! peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm spiderman #tasm peter parker #the amazing spiderman

[moonstruckme]

hi!

can i request tasm!peter meeting reader after having to do long distance?

if not thats okay! love your writing:)

have a great day<3

Thanks lovely, hope you have a great day as well!

Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 683 words

You don’t just give out copies of the key to your apartment, so when the front door opens you think you’re about to be shot. 

Breath caught in your throat, you freeze in the hallway and say the first deterrent that comes to mind. “I’ve got a gun!” 

The laughter that responds is as familiar as it is cheeky. “No, you don’t,” Peter says. 

“Jesus.” Your heart starts again, and in that split second your feet are already moving. 

Peter opens his arms as you throw yourself at him, taking your weight happily. “Nope, just me,” he quips, his harsh grip at odds with the levity of his voice. 

“Still a bad joke.” Your own voice is thick with fondness. You press your face into his neck, getting your boyfriend as close as you can. “What are you doing here?” 

“I live here.” He gives your upper back an excited squeeze. “You miss me?” 

“Not even,” you mumble into his shoulder. You go ahead and wrap your legs around his waist, and Peter chuckles, starting to walk the both of you towards your couch. “You scared the shit out of me, you know.”

“Yeah, maybe not my best plan.” He collapses downward, and you fold yourself around him more completely, getting comfortable in his lap. You think you’ll just never leave, honestly. “I thought the surprise would be more fun than scary.” 

“I could’ve met you at the airport.” 

“May would’ve killed me.” He palms the back of your neck, lips finding your hairline. “She wanted to pick me up herself, but she’s letting you have me for dinner. I have to be back by ten.” 

You let out a petulant whine. “Why does she get to decide?” 

You adore Peter’s aunt and he knows it, but when you’re having to battle her for custody of your boyfriend all that love goes right out the window. 

“I know,” Peter commiserates. “You’d think after a semester of taking care of myself in another country, I’d be allowed to stay out until at least eleven.” 

You hum, vacating your spot in the juncture of his neck in favor of seeing his face. You pet down the cowlick at the crown of his head, and Peter catches your hand, kissing your palm. A warm thrumming starts up in your chest. It’s similar to the sensation you’d gotten during your evening calls while Peter was abroad (well, your evening, his late night), but more. Better. You’ve missed feeling it like this. 

“How was Hertfordshire?” you ask. 

Peter gives you a look like you’re being silly. “I told you already.” 

“It’s different in person.” 

He smiles, thinking. “Small. Grassy. Cute, but not much to swing off of.” There’d been no vigilante work while Peter did his research abroad. He talked like it was a welcome break, but you could tell he missed it. Something changes in his look, eyes going soft and flirty. “No pretty girls.” 

You bite back a smile. “Let’s not do the women of Hertfordshire a disservice,” you chide.

“Fine.” Peter rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “None of my pretty girl.” 

He lifts his chin and you oblige him, touching your lips to his. It’s a kiss months in the making, and it heats quicker than either of you are expecting. Your heart thunders and throbs to the point of aching. You shuffle closer in Peter’s lap and his hand presses into the small of your back, both of your breathing turning harsh and desperate. 

“Missed you,” he says into your mouth. 

“I missed you more.” 

“Wanna bet?” Peter lifts you off the couch, and his casual strength shouldn’t surprise you anymore but it does. You laugh, again wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“Shouldn’t we start to think about dinner?” you ask as he carries you towards your bedroom. 

He hums, reluctant. “What time is it?” 

You look to the side to check the clock on your microwave, and he kisses your cheekbone while you do. “Almost seven.” 

Peter hums against your skin, pressing another kiss to the side of your nose. “We’ve got time.”

#tasm!peter parker #tasm!spiderman #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x fem!reader #tasm!peter parker x y/n #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x self insert #tasm!peter parker fanfic #tasm!peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter parker fic #tasm!peter parker fluff #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker blurb #tasm!peter parker scenario #tasm!peter parker drabble #tasm!peter parker one shot #tasm!peter parker oneshot #the amazing spiderman fanfiction #the amazing spiderman #tasm peter parker #tasm spiderman #the amazing spiderman fandom #the amazing spiderman x reader

[reverieblondie]

Neighbors

Chapter 4: Via the Window

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Eludes to voyeurism kink but nothing explicit.

Summary: It's time you thank Spider-Man properly...

A/N: I hope you enjoy the update! Hoping to get these out more frequently!

Word Count: 2,392

‘If I shut my blinds you won’t know where to come get your thank you.’

‘Thank me how’?

‘Come by Monday night and find out?’

‘I will swing by then’ 

Your Sunday has been spent in two ways. One you had taken the time to get ready for your first week of school. Write out your schedule and figure out what buildings your classes would be in. Best to prepare for your first day to eliminate any surprises that could occur. Two, and far more nerve-wracking; you kept talking with Spider-Man through notes via your window. At the time leaving notes and checking every few hours for a new message from your pen pal was an exciting experience. It was a thrill to get a new message when you weren't even able to catch a glimpse of him! How could he even be that sneaky? 

Well now it’s Monday and you're having to reflect on your messages…

You said you wanted to thank him, but now that it's Monday you find yourself playing with the last note he left you. You're still trying to wrack your brain for ideas, but you can’t sit and stir forever. You have a big day ahead! As you're getting ready to leave for school you're double, triple checking that you have your things and that you look decent. Going from the living room to your bedroom, back to the living room to the bathroom like a madman. Once you scramble into the kitchen to make a bottle of water, it clicks. Turning towards your admittedly out-of-date oven the brilliant idea hits, cookies! 

Who doesn’t like cookies? Maybe it's a bit old-fashioned or maybe he doesn’t like sweets, but it's the thought that counts right? Just a nice thankful gesture right? Well, there are other thankful gestures you could do for him…But you quickly shake away the thought, you don’t even really know him best not to cross any boundaries; not yet at least. 

Getting your mind off of…activities you check your phone and see that you need to leave, don’t want to risk being late on your first day. Doing one last run you check yourself and your things. Before you exit your apartment you find yourself going to your window on pure impose, checking it one last time before you leave. A part of you wishes you would see him swinging by like he's checking on you but you know you won’t catch him. 

Walking out of your apartment you look over to Peter's apartment. You haven’t seen him since your moment together in the laundry room. Admittedly you take your time locking your door for the off chance Peter would be leaving his apartment at the same time as you. Though you quickly come to find that your day is not going to start with seeing a brave hero or your annoyingly cute neighbor, that's not going to be a damper on your day. Walking to school making sure to stay out of the bike lane you open your phone and start looking up cookie recipes. 

As expected the first day of classes was nothing more than a lot of info dumping about the class and all the materials needed to be successful in the class. Yes, it is easy to just sit and listen but that doesn’t mean it's any less tiring to have to go through. Taking a stretch you feel your muscles stretch and hear your bones softly popping. Just have to go to the store then you can get your little thank you gift for spidy going. The thought of seeing him leaves a giddy feeling to swell in your stomach. But that is soon interrupted when you see a familiar face walking past. 

Well, well if it isn't your odd neighbor, of course he didn’t mention you two go to the same university, typical…

“Peter!”, you call out

In an instant, he's stopping and turning to meet your eyes with a somewhat surprised look on his face, though there is a slight hint of a smile on the corners of his lips. You quickly approach him making your way past the swarm of other exhausted college students. 

“You know this is starting to get a bit frequent, first the elevator, then the laundry room, now here. Are you following me?” He teases with an annoyingly adorable smile. 

“Yeah, if I’m going to stalk anyone it would be a celebrity, not my random neighbor.” 

“You would stalk someone? Bad girl…” 

The teasing nickname sends a rush over your spine but you must resist, he's insufferable…and adorable…dammit. 

Ignoring the comment you kept the conversation moving, “You know most people mention if they go to the same school as someone else they know.”

He shrugs, “True, but that kills the fun of you having to figure it out.”

“Oh, so fun Pete” 

“You're welcome. Are you done for the day?” 

“Yeah, I was heading home, well going to go to the store then home.” 

Peter smiles as he adjusts his backpack, “I was also heading home, you want some company for the trip?” - Well isn't this a friendly change? 

“Sure.”

Now you have eggs and sugar, but chocolate chips, flour, brown sugar, and vanilla extract you need to buy. Just to find them is the issue, this store Peter took you to is different from the one you have started to get accustomed to. Peters runs off to grab something, leaving you to wander down the aisles by yourself, so much for his company... 

As you browse down the aisle something catches your eye and it's staring in your direction. Two men seem to be whispering and glancing in your direction. You turn to see if they are looking behind you but nothing seems to be odd enough to catch any attention. Facing them again you see they have slid closer and you're starting to feel nervous that it may be you that is catching their attention, but why? 

Is there something on your face? Are they staring at your basket? Are you doing something wrong? You're starting to become uneasy as you do your best to just ignore them. They are whispering amongst themselves and you just keep your eyes forward, just ignore them, and let them walk past you. 

As the men start to walk in your direction a sudden warmth then wraps around you for a second you're frightened but as you look to see who has their arm wrapped around you you see Peter's striking profile. 

“There you are, did you find all the ingredients?” 

You look at him confused and he just winks before holding you tighter, sliding his hands to hold you in a hug as his chin rests on your shoulder. The feeling sends a rush down your spine. It's all so quick and confusing, why is he holding you? Did he see you were nervous? Turning you see Peter staring at the two men who had been approaching you up. But now seeing that Peter is with you they quickly scurry away. 

Once they are gone Peter's warmth leaves you and there is a zipping of your bag and things start to click.  

With a smirk, Peter ruffles your hair and you glare at him. 

“You need to pay attention before you get pickpocketed.”

Swatting away his hands he smiles before grabbing your basket and heading towards the register. You bite back a smile and take a second to fix your hair before following him. 

“You know I could have carried my bags” 

“No, no, it's fine. If my aunt May found out I walked home with someone without helping with the groceries I might just get disowned.” 

“Oh? Is that where you learned to be so chivalrous?” you say mockingly as you unlock your door. 

After a little effort with the old lock, you get the door open and gesture for Peter to step in. As he steps inside and you see him looking around you realize he's the first guest you have had in your apartment. Taking the groceries from him you start putting away things you don’t need and taking out the things you do. 

“You keep staring around at the place, are you not impressed by my decorating skills?” 

“Actually smarty pants, I am impressed, might need you to come over and help me with my place. You even managed to get the mildew smell out.” 

You smile then turn on your oven with a turn to the old dial, “I charge by the hour and am very bossy. I will warn you” 

Peter's eyes flash with mischief, “I wouldn't mind that…” 

Folding your arms over your chest you look at him confused, is he flirting? Peter's confidence starts to falter as he rubs the back of his neck trying to ignore the budding tension in the small kitchen. Looking at your counter he sees all the ingredients out. 

“Making something?” -smooth change the subject

“I am, just some cookies for a…Friend?” that is technically what you are doing…but can you call Spider-man a friend? You two are friendly but friends? Before you can get wrapped up in thought Peter is speaking up. 

“Friend? Judging from how you say it, I assume you two are very close.”

Start to take out your measuring cups and recipe. You roll your eyes at him, “He's a new friend, well acquaintance…”

Peter eyes your hands as you start to place everything down. His eyes on you are starting to make you slightly nervous…but in a good way…where it feels like a rush, “I'm an acquaintance and neighbor.”

“Well, he helped me with something.”

“Um, I carried your groceries and took care of a spider for you.”

“I thought you were carrying my groceries so you wouldn't be disowned, and if I recall you called me dramatic about the spider.” 

Peter thinks for a moment before snapping his fingers, “Playful banter between friends.” 

Wow, he wants cookies. Letting out a sigh you look at his smirking face trying not to smile. “Do you like chocolate chip?” 

“That's my favorite.” -of course it is…

Peter then gives you one more smile before grabbing his bag to leave. “Well, I will leave you to it. Thank you.” 

“Oh get cookies then leave?” 

“I have a deadline, unfortunately, those spider-man pictures won’t edit themselves” 

The mention of the hero's name causes you to perk up, as Peter is heading towards the door you muster up the courage to ask him about it. “Do you think maybe I could see some of your pictures sometime?” 

Peter adjusted his bag on his shoulder opening the door, “Bring the cookies and you can look through all my photos. Later.” 

Carefully you tie a neat blue bow on the bag to make sure it stays closed. Finally, you got the cookies done and to your credit, they are probably the best cookies you have ever made. Thank you internet for all the baking tips! 

Looking out the window you see it is very late and it's time to get ready for bed after all your hard work. Stepping into your room you go to shut the curtains so you can get changed, but as you go to shut the curtains you have a stray thought…what if he's watching out there…swallowing your dry throat you keep the curtain open and turn your back to your window. He said he would be by later… it's later… 

With trembling hands, you lift your shirt over your head dropping it to the floor as you shake your hair out. 

Is he out there…

Sliding your hands down your body you start undoing your pants slowly, your body feels hot and you can feel your face flushing to a bright red as you strip down to your underwear, closing your eyes you go to slide down your panties. 

The thought of his gloved hands roaming across your skin, the feeling of his weight and warmth pushed against you, stomach tying into knots and with a deep breath you open your eyes looking over your shoulder, and you see…

Nothing…

Whipping your hand down your face you quickly grab your pajamas and put them on. What were you doing stripping like he would be watching…Ugh, that is so embarrassing! You don’t know him and here you are getting horny like a fangirl, get a grip on yourself! You need to start meeting more people so you stop fantasizing about superheroes… maybe Peter has friends…or maybe Peter…

No! Not crossing that line, he's the only person you know in this city you can’t go mucking that up! No way! Off limits! 

Walking to the kitchen you look at the two bags of cookies, Peters you will drop off tomorrow. A smile stretches to your lips, you two have become something akin to friends. It's a relief to have him not hate your guts still snarky though…but funny. Maybe you will run into him at school again…

Turning to the other back you feel your heart race increase, Spidys cookies… You hope that he enjoys these. There is the chance he might find this as a lame gift, you can only imagine what kinds of gifts he receives after saving people. Have others made him treats? Giving him money? Presents? Something else…would he want that…You swallow your dry throat and quickly write a note attaching it to the bag to keep your mind busy. 

Do spiders enjoy sweets? - you include a doodle of a spider seemingly eating a cookie. 

Hopefully, he likes them and isn’t disappointed by the thank you. 

Walking over and opening the window there is a slight breeze that sends a chill through you. You wish you could leave the window open tonight to enjoy the breeze but you know better. Placing the bag of treats on the window seal you adjust the note and the bow so they look perfectly placed. Once set you look out into the glimmering lights of the city taking in the breeze, the sights, the noises, but that's when you hear a clearing of a throat. Looking up you see that iconic mask, body clinging to the wall as he looks down at you. 

“You have a thank you for me?” his voice coos

You forget all about your cookies…

Tags:

@huesdreamhouse @keiva1000 @spdrwdw @betizda @lunablackcosplay @juliluvhz @avareadsthings @xxrougefangxx @briviny @llpovi @beautyb1ade @lulawantmula @kikieatshomophobes

#tasm peter parker #tasm spiderman #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm peter #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #the amazing spider man #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter smut #tasm!peter fluff #andrew garfield #peter parker smut #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #spider man #spiderman x reader #spiderman fic

[spiderfunkz]

✧ NOT A LOT, JUST FOREVER.

summary : you create a memory that peter will remember forever.

word count : 0,5k

contains : tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, reader and peter go stargazing.

a/n : inspired by my number #1 favorite movie ever which is 'eternal sunshine of the spotless mind' !!! i love this scene with all my heart and i thought it'd be cute to make a blurb inspired by it 💕

the snow fell harsh.

peter never liked the cold. his sweaters were always too thin, or too thick, maybe too itchy and a little silly. he either loses one of his mittens or finds them ruined and dirty. and he never wore his beanie because he never wants to ruin his best quality— his hair.

you've always liked the cold. your sweaters were warm and hand knitted by one of your family members, your mittens fit perfectly in pairs, and you have an entire collection of beanies for every day of the week, decorated with pins and colorful clips.

there is also a reason why you liked the cold.

the hidden lake you've been going to since you were little freezes up. it's thick enough for you to walk on but slippery enough for you to fall.

you've gone ice skating there, made snowmen there, lost your boots there, and fell in there once, maybe twice. but you've never hated it. falling in cold ice gets you hot cocoa at the end! and a big headache.. and a sneezy nose..

but other than that you've loved it.

and you are so excited to share all of that with peter. even the headaches and sneezy noses.

"come on!"

you smile, peter holds your hand tightly as he steps on the ice for the first time. "it's very solid this time of year, don't worry."

"i'm not so sure about that." he's clinging to your arm, "come on, come on." you gesture.

"oh wow. i could see the city lights from here." peter grins, "pretty right?" you ask.

"very."

you don't notice peter's loving doe-eyes looking smiling at you and instead, you run into the middle of the lake before slipping.

"ow!"

"jeez, are you okay?" peter runs to you.

"you okay?" — "yeah i'm okay." you brush of the snow from your coat. "come on, now!" you gesture getting closer to the middle.

"i use to skate here sometimes. oh, we should do that sometimes!"

"i think i might cause the ice to crumble. and end up in 50 or so bruises." peter giggles, "i can teach you."

you give peter a smile before laying down on the ice, patting on the space beside you, gesturing for peter to follow along.

peter hesitates for a moment before following, "i think i heard a crack," he shook his head.

"it's not gonna break! or crack- it's so thick."

the stars shine above you. twinkling and glowing.

"show me which constellations you know."

"oh, i don't know any.." peter shrugs shyly, "yes you do! you took astronomy once!"

peter smiles, he pauses for a moment. "that's osidius," he points.

"where?" — "right there, see?" his cheek touched your cheek as he inched closer. "it's sort of a swoop and a cross. osidius the emphatic."

you smile and laugh.

"ooh look, that's us." peter points, "where?" you squint. peter takes your hand and slowly points in the direction of two stars.

"me, and you. you're the brighter one." peter says. "i'm the brighter one?" — "mhm, my bright, pretty, star."

#tasm #tasm x reader #tasm x you #tasm imagines #tasm imagine #tasm fluff #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagines #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker imagines #tasm!peter parker fluff #the amazing spider man #the amazing spiderman #the amazing spiderman fluff #peter parker blurb #andrew garfield!peter parker #tasm andrew garfield

[lives-in-midgard]

You fall in love with your best friend, Peter Parker who is also spiderman

#spiderman #Tasm #tasm x reader #tasm!peter fluff #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #tasm peter x reader #peter parker fluff #andrew garfield spiderman #andrew garfield #marvel #marvel x reader #tasm!peter parker #the amazing spider man #spiderman no way home #spiderman moodboard #marvel moodboard #moodboard

[astxroiid]

manhattan longing // tasm!peter parker

❥ tender hands, late nights, secrets, falling from great heights.

wc: 1.1k

navigation ✩ new york private life (I) ✩ empire state of mind (II)

Peter Parker never thought a wall looked so good to punch. Sitting backwards on your toilet while you shakily stitch up a gash on his back does that to a man.

The adrenaline from the fall wore off and Peter realized he probably didn't just land on the concrete of the sidewalk.

Plus, the glass you ungraciously pulled from his wound answered any doubt.

Speaking of ungracious, the needle in his back was definitely not forming and sort of straight lines.

Peter clutches the toilet lid like a vice. Knuckles turning white and head feeling light from how long he's been holding his breath.

"Okay, this should be the last one," the tone in your voice makes him feel awful for the pain he's feeling. He can here the sadness in your voice, how bad you feel for hurting him.

You push through his skin, pulling the stitch tight and cutting the string. Peter intakes a breath, attempting to dig his nails into the porcelain he's wrapped himself around.

You set the needle on the counter, both peter and you letting out a long awaited breath. His shoulders slump. You slowly reach up, running a thumb over healed scars, all white and jagged.

"Do you fall on glass often?" Your tone is soft and close to a whisper.

Peter turns his head to the side, looking at you over his shoulder. "No, I...." he pauses, attempting to think of a good excuse. Though, you don't know that. "I used to, uhm, box. Yeah. It was intense."

"Oh," you frown slightly, tilting ur head.

You back up, allowing Peter to stand. He turns to face you, revealing a forgotten scar on his chest.

It's long. It spans from his collar bone diagonally to the bottom of his rib cage and it's almost an inch wide.

"Peter," you whisper. "There's no way you got that boxing."

Peter quickly grabs his shirt off the counter, pulling it over his head. "That one's not, I don't really wanna talk about it."

Shame. Shame and embarrassment crash over you like a cold wave. Why the fuck did i mention it?!

You look down at your hands, digging your nails into the sides of each other. "Sorry, I didn't mean to over step."

"No, nonono, don't be sorry. It's okay," Peter smiles at you and, in one spontaneous moment, he's brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

His heart is pounding in his chest. Fear of pushing a boundary crawling up his body.

Your cheeks are warm and before you know it, your hand is holding his against your face, thumb rubbing his knuckles.

"You're so sweet, Peter Parker."

Fucking kiss her!

You let your fingers trail along his arm, trying to give him a hint he can pick up on.

Fucking kiss me!

It's the perfect time too. God her smile. And her hands, they're so soft, and gentle. Loving in a way he never knew he needed.

"Thank you for fixin' me up," Peter gives a lopsided smile, pulling his hand back to his side.

A cold absence takes hold of where his hand once was.

"Of course," you give a flat smile. "You saved my life. It's the least I can do."

꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

You offer Peter to stay the night, again saying it's the least you can do in repayment of his heroic act.

You both end up on the couch, curled up watching tv. Again, seeing a couple embrace and feeling the same longing from the other day.

You move to lay your head on Peter's shoulder, letting his arm wrap around you, and sighing into him. Comfort overtakes your body as you sink further into him, slowly running your hand up and down his forearm.

His heart is pounding in his chest. Nerves shaking his hands and his thoughts. "y/n?"

This is it. I'm finally gonna kiss her.

"Yes?"

And with the sweet, sleepy tone of your voice he feels all his confidence start to fizzle. His brain short-circuits trying to come up with a cover up.

"D'you wanna go to bed?"

"Yeah," you yawn, pushing further into him.

Pete leads you from the living room to your bedroom, making sure to turn all the lights off along the way. He pauses once you reach the bedroom, not sure where to go.

You turn and walk up to him, grinning. You place a hand on his chest, feeling his pulse increase.

Peter has no idea what to do. His heart is in his throat, hands tingling.

You let your hand slide up his torso and to the back of his neck, getting as close as you can to him. Peter gulps, looking from your eyes to your lips then back again.

Time seems to stand still, neither of you breathing nor looking away from each other. You tangle your fingers into the brown curls and the nape of Pete's neck, twirling them.

Finally, you pull Peter down to you fully. You kiss him the intensity of the sun. He immediately reciprocates. Your bodies instantly meld into one. Finding their way to the bed and laying you down on your back.

Peter Parker is hovering above you, smiling like an idiot. The same Peter Parker that you loved way back in ninth grade. You were both fourteen, both idiots. The Peter above you now is the same one that fell off the jungle gym in gym class in second grade and blamed you for distracting him.

All the memories swell in your mind, bubbling into one thought you can't help from leaving your lips.

"I have loved you for a long time, Peter Parker."

Peter's eyes go wide, head tilting towards you. "You, what?"

"Have loved you for a long time. since ninth grade to be exact," you state seriously.

You've said it twice and yet, he still can't process it. You notice and try to help him out. You push him over on his side, moving yourself the same way.

"When we were both fourteen, we went on a school field trip to the Empire State Building. We all got to go to the top, but i was afraid of heights. So, you held my hand and told me-"

"If you fall, I'll fall with you," both of you repeat together. And in a crazy twist of fate, you both did fall together.

"I've loved you ever since then."

Peter grabs you by the back of your head, pulling you in for another kiss. Souls connecting into one like two water drops.

He can't believe it. You. You've loved him from the same moment he loved you, and after all this time, you made it back to each other. Falling harder than ever.

remember: likes are appreciated but comments and reblogs are the desire. Remember they do more for authors and tumblrs than a like ever could.

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[secretlovezz]

Peter Parker who plops himself down to lay on you after he gets home from patrol, doesn't even bother to take off his mask let alone his suit before throwing his body weight onto you while you lay in bed. He just needs to be close and feel your warmth against his. He just needs to hold you and for you to hold him.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #tasm peter parker #peter parker #peter parker fluff #tasm peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker drabble #peter parker x y/n #mcu peter parker #mcu peter x reader #the amazing spider man #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you

[literaila]

broom closet

tasm!peter x reader

summary: is a closet a good spot for a makeout sesh?

warnings: i’m not sure what’s wrong with me :))

*

you’re not even sure how you’ve managed to find this small room. how you grabbed peter before he could protest, or any slight qualms you might’ve had could come to mind.

you’re not sure where you are in the building, or what you just knocked over.

but honestly, you don’t really care.

how can you when peters hand is keeping you close, and his breath is keeping you dizzy?

“peter,” you whisper into him, pushing yourself up. your neck is already aching, but peters hands are very helpful—and needy, grabbing you and keeping you to him.

he won’t allow an inch. he would stop the atoms making up any distance between the two of you if he could. he would break physics just to glue you to him.

but he doesn’t say anything back—doesn’t really need to—only hums into your mouth, his kisses leaving a burning feeling in your belly.

you’re not even sure what you meant to say. you shake your head mindlessly, moving backward into the wall.

your hands are in peters hair, your fingertips brushing his scalp and making him groan.

“this is a terrible idea,” he says, whispering viciously into you. his hands are everywhere, his hands are not enough.

“you say that,” you pull yourself up against the wall, trying to keep pace with him. “like i put any thought into this.”

he smiles against you, tilting his head so you both get a moment to breathe, tiny little gasps like hymns you’ve just written. but almost as soon as he pulls back, his lips are on your jaw, around the side of your cheek to your ear. “so this wasn’t your plan for tonight?”

his breath is hot and you can barely breathe.

“not here,” you say, keeping your eyes plastered shut so you don’t have to look at him and his self satisfied smirk. “not now.”

it’s almost a whine.

“you just happened to know where this broom closet was…” he whispers it and bites at your earlobe.

you push his face away, pulling at his hair again. “you just happened to push me into it…”

“you just had to put your hair up,” he groans and takes it down. his hands are evil as they curl around the back of your neck.

you lean back and breathe, licking your lips. “sorry,” you finally look up at him, your eyes close enough to tease. “i forgot that haphazardly thrown up hair is your weakness.”

“no,” peter shakes his head, his eyes looking from yours to your lips, his breath hot enough to burn. “you’re my weakness.”

you want to make fun of him, but you’re too busy leaning in to bite him again. peter doesn’t mind, only uses one of his hands to keep your back straight, and leans into you.

his kisses are teasing, just subtle hints at what he knows you want. one peck there, and another one to hell.

you’d gladly burn yourself alive if he would kiss you properly.

“peter,” you warn, but he is innocent, and his cheeky mouth just continues to prod.

you push yourself up onto your toes, pulling him down to you, but he doesn’t relent. his hand moves to your chin, helping and killing you. you whine into his pathetic kisses.

“what?” he says, pulling back just so he can pout at you. “did you want something?”

you scowl and push him back, trying to take over this small room, to devour his lips before he gets the chance to notice.

but peter is still smiling.

you almost squeal when he pushes you again, back against the wall so he can prop you up.

“you’re being too loud,” peter scolds, his voice low and smooth, and completely breathless. “someone’s going to wonder what the brooms are getting up to when they’re unsupervised.”

“you’re the lookout,” you tell him, your hands going to his jaw, keeping his eyes on you. “you listen for anyone coming, spider-man.”

peter scoffs and shakes his hand. one of his fingers trails the skin by your lips, tickling and teasing. “do you think any of my senses are working right now?”

he subtly puts the blame on you, but you smile. “let’s test that.”

you press your forehead against his, lips brushing and breath meshing. “touch,” you whisper, kissing him slowly, not a sound coming from either of you.

you are deadly silent, and you let the kids linger until you feel peters eyelashes fluttering against your cheek.

then you pull back, minimally. you tilt your head. “taste,” you kiss him again, deeper and harder, like you want him to fall back and have both of you falling to the ground. but before that can happen, you ask “good?” against him.

you can feel it when he swallows. then nods.

“what else should we test?” your lips move to the corner of his mouth, then his jaw. “sight,” you say, trailing upwards, “sound.” your nose brushes his cheek, while your lips kiss above his eyebrow. “smell.”

but after a moment too long—you lingering and peter breathing harshly against your neck—he makes a low sound in the back of his throat, and pulls your face back down, kissing you hungrily.

if he burns, you burn.

you kiss back, though smiling against him, feeling that familiar ache in your chest. a testimony to how small this broom closet is.

*

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