#don’t even get me started on Andrew’s Peter

[flamingo-writes]

@midnightnoiserose I’m gonna reply here bcs tumblr doesn’t let me post one long reply in the comments djjdjfjf

@midnightnoiserose I think it’s a bit of a shame, because Hobie’s character actually allows for a lot of dark content. Like, punk in general discusses a lot of problems and the punk scene is actually pretty unsafe. From the friendly gigs, the mosh pits can be quite dangerous adjust but fun. And then there’s the not so friendly moments during marches and manifestations. And there’s a lot of things that haven’t been explored. (I mean understandable, people want the fluff and the smut and I also want those as much as the person next to me). And I —as someone who’s called herself a punk for literally half of my life— have a lot of very strong opinions on various topics, and one of the reasons why I loved Hobie’s character so much (from the moment his comic got serialised last year) is because of who he is as a person. I Can relate so much to him.

The fact that they made him so hot in the movie was 😭😭 chefskiss. but tbf Hobie already was my dream guy hahaha but I digress.

There’s so much potential in writing Hobie in a fanfic where punk ideologies are thoroughly discussed, and all of the hardships and unfairness that happens in the world are talked about. You can’t talk about rebellion without oppression, and all the things those entail. Hobie is just the perfect character to put through these scenarios, it’s literally his natural habitat. —Also me projecting myself bcs that’s why I wrote fanfics in the first place. I tend to project sometimes a little too much of myself in my fanfics.

I have another Spider-Man fanfic (incomplete, I will finish it I promise 💀) in which my strong opinions on power abuse and general rebellious traits shine through the MC/Reader.

I will also project in that other fanfic, but in this one MORE bcs I live for punk. I love talking about punk ideology.

I’m thinking of writing a multi chapter Hobie fanfic, but I need motivation and free time 🥲 it will have heavier/darker themes, a lot of things discussions revolving punk ideologies, oppression, corruption, feminism, as well as other ugly parts of reality such as drug consumption, physical violence, SA and so on.

What I don’t know is if I should post it on AO3, or perhaps here? Or maybe both??? Idk what do you guys think?

[henry7931]

Swap Short: Thanksgiving Edition

Not My Cousin Andrew’s Body!

Jamie:

I loath the thought of Thanksgiving because my family is so freaking weird! Every year we get together and all of us stay in my Uncle’s house for the night before Thanksgiving. And right before bed all of us are forced to play this dumb game. We call it, ‘guess who.’ (Which is nothing like the board game btw.)

Basically everyone randomly swaps bodies with someone else and none of us know who’s in who. We all have to try our best at pretending to know whoever’s body we’re in that year. And the last two who don’t get guessed correctly basically win bragging rights and like $500. I personally don’t want to participate but I don’t have much of a choice.

So when I arrived at my Uncle’s house, I caught up with my family. I felt the my nerves kick in every time someone mentioned the game.

I looked around the room, thinking to myself who would I be comfortable being for a day. Probably my Uncle Peter or maybe my little cousin Davie. I haven’t swapped with either of them yet. But I know one person who I’d hate to swap bodies with… my cousin Andrew. I find him repulsive!

He’s one of those far right guys who just has the most punchable face you’ve ever seen. He looks like he skips a bath every other day and I’m confident that he’s not a fan of gay people. I don’t know, I try to avoid him at all cost. Luckily I haven’t swapped with him yet and I’m hoping it stays that way.

By the time the night started to wrap up, I was so ready to go to bed. I say good night to everyone and laid in bed slowly falling asleep thinking about who I was going to be in the morning.

The Next Day…

As I wake up, it takes me a moment to get my bearings. It’s just so dark in the room but it doesn’t take me long to realize that I was no longer in the room I fell asleep in.

I stumble to find a lamp and turn it on. As I swing my new borrowed legs out of bed. I stared down at the feet that I now control.

I don’t even get up quickly, my mind races eliminating who I could possibly be until i conform who’s stubby toes I’m looking at. Andrews.

“SHITTTT FUCKKK!!! WHHHYYYYYY!!!!”

I stand up feeling Andrew’s heavier frame move and almost want to cry. I look the in mirror confirming what I already knew.

“Well this fucking sucks.”

I stare at his reflection taking it all in when I realize something else. I’m hard as a rock right now.

The bulge underneath his pjs was begging for my attention. And I didn’t want anything to do with it.

I try to ignore it but it’s difficult. His body is just soo horny!

I walk myself through the logistics and my best conclusion was to just close my eyes and pretend I’m in my body.

So I lay back in bed and pull off the pajama bottoms. And the smell of ball sweat fills my nostrils.

My eyes are still closed and I reach down to touch his dick. As his fingers embrace his dick, I feel a rush come over me.

His dick… it’s so sensitive especially his cockhead.

I trace his fingers along his balls and feel so turned on. And it’s like I don’t even have pretend anymore that I’m still myself. Even in my cousins body, it’s kinda hot jerking off with someone else’s dick.

I pump faster and faster… I start to moan. I open my eyes and stare down at my cousin’s junk.

I bring his fingers up and sniff them… they smell like a jockstrap. Who knows the last time he’s washed his dick.

I pump faster and faster…

And then the freaking door swings open!

“What the fuck!”

It’s my body standing at the door. I thought about stopping but I’m too deep into it.

He slams the door shut and runs over.

“Jamie! What the hell dude!!! Stop playing with my dick in front of me.”

“I… can’t …stop! Your body… it’s too…. Horny!!”

“Shit! Here,” he says pulling my fingers off of his dick.

Andrew wraps his fingers around it and starts working it in a way that feels a million times better.

I can’t handle it! I end up cumming everywhere and he’s now soaked in it.

“Are you kidding me??? God of course this is what happens when I swap with my gay cousin!”

“Oh come on!! It’s your body, you think I wanted to do that?”

“Maybe! I don’t know, you’re the one who likes dick!”

“Well it looks like you enjoyed the show too!”

Andrew looks down and he’s now rocking a boner. His face turns red.

“Did you enjoy jerking yourself off?,” I say to him.

He looks away and groans. “Yeah… it was kinda hot.”

“Yeah well I have to say it was hot watching my body doing the work as well. You definitely know your way with your dick”

I look at my boner and get an idea.

I grab Andrew and tug him into bed.

“What are you doing?”

“A favor.”

I pull off the pair of shorts I had on last night and my dick comes flying out.

“Wait! Are you about to?”

I grab my dick and force it down Andrew’s throat.

“Holy shit!” he screams out.

I put in the work and feel him running my hands over his body.

I run my fingers down my balls to my taint and then my hole. He squirms and lets out a little noise as I insert his digits into my hole. He tries to complain until he realizes just how good it feels.

I then pull back and decided to try something a little more freaky.

I laugh to myself thinking about how much of a mind fuck this has to be for my conservative cousin. I take both of his feet and lick them.

“Fuckkkk why is that so hot to watch,” he says to me.

“Oh you like watching me lick your feet? What if I did this…”

I wrap his toes around my dick and start pumping. He’s moaning so loud now and ends up exploding all over them.

And reaches for one of his feet and rubs the cum covered foot on my face.

“Oh my god, that was… that was amazing…” he says out of breath.

I grin at him and say, “ I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“But don’t get any ideas! I’m not gay!!”

“Are you sure? Because you just rubbed your cum covered foot all over.”

He gets agitated and says, “YEAH WELL! ITS ONLY BECAUSE IM IN YOUR GAY ASS BODY!”

I laugh and say , “then why am I not attracted to girls then Andrew?”

“Well… that’s a good point.”

“So how about you whip off my face and go get ready for the day cuz.”

Andrew grabs my shorts and throws them on.

“Don’t forget my face!”

He turns around and grabs a rag. He whips it and throws it on the ground. I giggle loudly as he storms out of the room slamming the door.

“Shit, that almost made this worth it!,” I say laying back in his naked body.

The rest of the day was fun. Mainly because I got to fuck with Andrew the entire time and he couldn’t say shit!

Andrew sat across from me and I pulled off his shoes. And then just one sock.

I sit back in the chair crossing my arms and stared at him while wiggling his toes.

Andrew gazes at them for a minute before standing up and storming out again.

As the day goes on, I watched my family trying there hardest to put up a front for everyone. My little cousin Davie was the first one out, ironically he swapped bodies with my uncle Peter.

He was pretty easy since he kept talking about how cool it was being an adult. Then it was my dad and my grandpa, then my aunt and her son… soon it came down to only four of us.

None of us were aloud to out one another. Now it’s up to the rest of the family to guess. You have my brother Ashton and my other Uncle Jessie. And then me and Andrew.

But it was one wrong guess that lead me to a victory. ✌️ Yep! I won the game (and so did Andrew technically).

We both got ushered to the front and they asked us to say a few words.

I speak up and say, “Well, I’m happy I swapped with Andrew this year. I feel like we got to know each other better and can’t say we’ve ever been closer. Is that right Andrew?” I say wrapping his strong arm around him.

“Yeah… I agree, we’re so much closer now.”

“Well good job guys!,” I says Uncle Pete in Davie body.

I grin and discreetly grab one of my butt cheeks which causes Andrew to blush.

I hear him say under his breath, “I hate you.”

“Yeah well, you got a few more hours and then we get to do this again next year,” I say softly back to him.

“Great…”

We all head to the dinner table and I purposely sit across from Andrew.

“So who’s ready for some turkey?”

[deadsetobsessions]

Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

F

E

L

L.

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now… People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

[bouncybongfairy]

Study Buddies

Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield) x Fem Reader

Summary: Peter Parker is your neighbor and, to put it bluntly, you've had a thing for him since moving in. One night, Peter discovers you're doing a report on the T. fabricii spider. This species is known for bounding and biting the female before sex. Peter decides to give you a live demonstration of this.

Word Count: 2.5k+

TW: Rough Sex, Blood Kink, Bondage, Nasty Smut.

Go to reference blog for smut: @kaionyx

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

To say you somewhat keep an eye on the sad man who lives across from you would be an understatement. Part of you felt like it was wrong to invade anyone’s privacy in such a way; the other side didn’t share these same morals. Living on your own, for the first time at 19 was really overwhelming. When you first caught a glimpse of him through the window above your bed, while reading After We Collied by Anna Todd. It had been a long day, School 9:00 am to 12:30 pm then work from 1:00 pm to 9:00 pm. Not to mention the homework and reading assignments from your professors. Even though you had a stack of homework needing attention you were procrastinating by reading. Feeling your stomach tightening and a hot blush creep onto your face. Then your ears started burning, which made you set down the book and get a glass of water. You saw him through the window as you walked back into the bedroom. He was taking his shirt off, setting his hands on his desk, and letting his head low. Either he was covered in a thin layer of sweat or water from the shower covered his body. You could see every muscle in his back and arms under his skin, completely flexed like he was in pain. His hair was brown and shaggy, flopping in front of his face, covering his eyes and nose. Cuts and bruises were scattered around his body, his mouth was hung open. Saliva was making his pink bottom lip glisten from the glow of the laptop on his desk. He was inspecting his own body, looking at all the cuts and abrasions. Out of nowhere, he moves to look directly at your window, which makes you drop onto the ground, hoping he didn’t see you. Your cat was so spooked, he attempted to run under the bed but unfortunately his rolls prevented him from doing so. You crawled over and began soothing him. 

“You don’t think he saw me right?” you asked as you gave him kisses between his ears. You were really hoping he didn’t see you, your hair was wrapped up in a towel for god sakes.

Standing up slowly, you checked to see if he was still there. When you checked, the lights in the bedroom were cut off making it impossible to see anything. After turning the T.V on and getting comfortable in bed again, you realize you can’t stop thinking about him. His body was so long and lanky, yet his muscles were still so defined and toned. You clear off your bed, and try to act like seeing your neighbor indisposed isn't affecting you. The next morning, you’d completely forgotten about last night's events. In fact, you were feeling quite chipper, immediately filling the cat's bowl. It was Friday and you couldn't be more excited to sit around and rot for the weekend. You were currently working at a bug museum that was a couple hours away from your college. It was super convenient not only distance wise but you loved the job. Sure the kids could get sticky and annoying but you liked working with all the insects. Nobody could waterboard this out of you but ever since you started working there, you’d become quite sweet on Spider-Man. It didn’t take long for you to put the pieces of the puzzle together to figure out his identity. Sometimes as you unlocked the door to the apartment building, you’d see a single web hanging from his window. Other times, you’d hear police sirens and then you’d hear the loud screeching of a heavy fire escape window open then close. You started keeping notes of all these little things. Currently being the manager of the Spider section of the museum, it gave you an excuse to research till your fingers bled. Trying to figure out what species of spider he could be. A theory you were itching to prove true or false, was that Spider-Man didn’t have naturally occurring webs but rather man made. A healthy spider doesn’t normally have a limit to the silk it can produce. When you watched him fight, he would eventually stop using his webs and rely more on crawling or jumping. You had a notebook where you noted all these little observations and ideas. 

After taking the subway to school, you rushed to get to your lecture on time. Calculus and Zoology were the last two classes of the week. Many of your peers had dropped the class by this point but that didn’t bother you one bit. It only meant more attention for you, not to mention the teachers became less… picky when it came to assignments. Hell there were times when you thought your English professor used your class as a rant session. You were praying the professors would take it easy on the class, you know… get into that Friday spirit a little early; they didn’t. As pitiful as it was to admit you were actually looking forward to your Zoology assignment; a research paper of an animal of your choice. As sad as that sounded, you really were excited about it, at this point it was like a special interest. 

Work was quite slow, only a couple people wandered in and left once they realized it wasn’t a themed cafe. This made you chuckle every time before turning back to your laptop. Honestly, you hated it a lot more than it was slow. When it was busy, it distracted you from being on your feet for 8 hours. Before leaving, you grabbed a book on the spider you chose for your report: Thanatus fabricii. The owner ended up closing early for the day which you didn’t mind at all. Practically skipping to the taxi you’d just hailed down. It was coming down so hard that you were practically soaked by the time you made it inside the building. Hair dripping and makeup beginning to feel sticky. It took you a couple times to shove the door open due to the weather making them expand and warp. Fat-Boy came and greeted you while opening the door. Meowing like he’s never eaten before in his life. You giggled at his nervous pacing while scooping a couple cups into his bowl. Setting your bags on the counter and pulling out your laptop, book and notebooks, typing at the rough draft of your essay. Suddenly Fat-Boy began clawing at the bedroom door which prompted you to go investigate. Walking into your bedroom and opening the door you shiver from how cold the air is. After flicking the lights on, you immediately notice the window was open. You rush over to close it, luckily there wasn’t too much water damage from the rain. Your stomach was doing summer salts, especially because you know it was closed before you left. Running back into the kitchen, trying to find a knife to arm yourself with. You could practically hear your heart beating in your ears. Suddenly something drops from the ceiling, causing you to scream. Immediately you recognized him as Peter, eyes dark and brows furrowed. He slowly started moving closer, you were frozen in fear. In complete shock, your flight or fight reflex is fully engaged. You thought he was coming towards you but instead, he went over to your computer and notes. Every once in a while his eyes would widen or he would chuckle. As scared as you were, you couldn’t help but take in all his little details. The cuts on his face or the bruising under his eyes. 

“I knew you were a horny little freak but I didn’t realize how nasty you really were,” he said, breaking you out of the dissociation you fell into. Still frozen in fear, you held up the knife a little higher, hands still shaking. 

“You’ve been studying me?” he asked, using a web to take the knife from your grip.

“I’m honestly impressed. I originally thought you were watching me because you wanted proof of my identity. I didn’t realize you were stalking me because of an infatuation,” he said, coming closer. 

You booked it, running towards the front door attempting to pry it open. Once you finally manage to rip it open, a web flies past you. Slamming the door closed with a loud bang. Immediately you run to the bedroom, knowing the fire escape is there. By the time you reached the window, he was already right behind you. He grabbed your arm and turned you around so you were facing him. His grip was strong, stone locked onto both arms. This was the first time you’d ever gotten a good look at his face. He looked like he was fraying at the edges. Eyes with pupils so wide they looked black, both eyebrows had splits in them. Bruising around his eyes and spread around his face. 

“I saw you’re doing a report on the T. fabricii spider, have you finished your research about how they mate?” he asked, you just stared at him. Ashamed that you were finding this erotic. The entire time you’d been watching him, he’d been doing the same. Made you feel inferior, like you weren’t as slick as you once thought. He wasn’t pleased with your silence and shook you a little to break you out of that trance. 

“No,” you said weakly, he let go of one of your arms and brushed a piece of hair out of your face. 

“They bite and bound the females before mating to avoid being eaten. Doesn’t that seem… efficient,” he said chuckling slightly. 

You were unsure of how to react, his energy becoming harder and harder to read. Originally you thought he only had violent intentions due to him discovering your infatuation. Knowing that his intentions were more sexual made you feel less stressed or scared. He let go of your arms and moved his hands to your waist then to your hips. You shivered as goosebumps began to prickle along your skin. Lowering his head a bit, he runs his lips over your ear and down your neck. Your back arches involuntarily, drawing a deep breath in from the sensation. 

“I like touch starved whores,” he growled into your ear, picking you up and using his body to press you against the wall, “getting wet from the littlest things, like me breathing down your neck or gripping your arm a little too tight,” he said into your ear. 

Not being able to take the build-up anymore, you smash your lips against his. The kiss was rough, continuously biting and nipping at your lip. Your mouth started to taste metallic, making you pull away. He didn’t let you, tangling his fist in your hair. Moving the two of you from the wall to the bed. The way he picked you up and threw you around made you feel weightless. Completely at the mercy of his strength, you welcomed it nervously. Teeth chattering and hands shaking, he was sucking hickies on your neck to the point where it was hurting. Starting to squirm a bit, he secures your wrists to the head board with webbing. Doing the same to your feet, completely paralyzing you. Instead of pulling your clothes off he rips them from your body. His strength and pure brute force was daunting, shredding fabric like it was paper. After undressing himself, he crawls back up. You couldn’t hold back a couple gasps and moans, feeling the tip of his length trace up your leg then inner thigh. He looked angry and focused solely on you. He rested his elbows by your ears, not caring that he was pulling the fuck out of your hair. This caused you to squirm even more, in reaction to this he sank his teeth into your shoulder. 

You cried out in pain as he slowly started adding more pressure to his bite. The hot burning sensation causes more pleasure than it should. Trying to aid the aching feeling from the lack of touch, you rub your thighs together. Spread your wetness all over your thighs. Becoming irritated with your lack of patients, he uses his knees to separate your legs. Letting go of your shoulder to sink his teeth into your neck. Now biting harder and more often; moving from your neck to your chest and other shoulder. You were beginning to foggy, face bright red and flushed. Once he was satisfied with his work, he turned his attention back to you. Grabbing you by the jaw to see the state of you. He practically moaned when seeing how glazed over your eyes were. Rubbing his shaft in between your folds, broke you out of this trance. Bucking your hips up, trying to create more friction between the two of you. Not liking how much control you had over your movements, he began binding you up tighter to the bed. Once he was confident in your restriction, he started pushing himself inside you. He was grunting and cursing under his breath, your legs being tied together making you that much tighter. He was big and you could feel yourself stretch around him. He buried his face into your shoulder, practically panting as he fucked in and out of you. The overstimulation being caused by the pain and pleasure simultaneously was driving you crazy. His arms were wrapped around your neck, almost suffocating you as he pounded frantically. Your moans and cries were strangled and garbled. A mixture of sweat and tears were running down your face. Being completely bound and restricted was making your stomach cramp with frustration. Unable to touch him or not being able to match his energy. 

He slowed down for a second and turned to make eye contact with you. His mouth was covered in blood from how often and forcefully he was biting you. Mouth hanging open and his face glistened in sweat. He catches your lips with his, indicating a sloppy kiss. He’s completely slowed his thrusts down to an agonizing pace. All your frustration and over stimulation coming to a head, you bite down on his lip as hard as you can. He pulls his head back and looks down at you with a shocked expression. 

“Faster,” you beg, accidentally spitting a bit of blood onto his face. He smirks down at you, before wrapping his hands around your neck. 

“Doesn’t look like you’re in any position to be making demands,” He growled at you before slamming his dick inside you. 

He was now using his hands around your throat to support his weight. It didn’t matter to you because he was now pounding into you at full force. Almost showing that he was as frantic to reach his orgasm as you were. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, letting your body go limp. Sucking in strangled breaths, he paid no regard to this to catch up at his current pace. You were getting close, your walls pulsating around him. Your pussy was contracting around him as you came. Black dots appear in your vision as you ride out that high. Seeing and feeling you cum was enough to send him over the edge. Rutting and spurting into you, completely blissed out as he came. Immediately after he was done he didn’t bother letting you free from the webbing. You were too exhausted and braindead to care.

[blooming-violets]

For Inexperienced Smut Prompts

“I can’t believe you’re this innocent…”

With Andrew! Peter Parker x reader ❤️❤️❤️ !!!!!!

Not So Innocent || Inexperienced Smut Prompts

[tasm!Peter Parker x fem!virgin!reader]

Warnings: Alcohol use and depictions of being intoxicated, a lot of dry humping and fingering

A/N: I changed the quote just a tiny bit to “I didn’t know you were so innocent" because it fit better. Same vibes though.

You weren’t used to being dragged along to parties, especially one’s held in a large penthouse overlooking the city. The host of the party was a friend of a friend of a friend. At least, that’s what your roommate said. She desperately wanted to attend with her boyfriend but was too nervous to go without you. She promised to find you a date so you wouldn’t be third wheeling despite your claims that you’d rather not attend at all. Somehow she had managed to convince you to get dolled up in clothes that weren’t your own and make an appearance. You trailed behind her and her boyfriend as the three of you walked out onto the wrap around terrace. 

The night air was warm and the sounds of the heavy bass booming out of the speakers reverberated inside your heart. You couldn’t even make out what music was playing; it was too loud. You scrunched up your face in distaste, fidgeting with the bottom of the short skirt of your dress, and pushing your way next to your friend. 

“Is this really worth it?” You shouted over to her. 

She either couldn’t hear you over the noise or was choosing to ignore you, “Look! Over there!” 

She grabbed your hand and dragged you over to an elegant, glass table in the middle of the terrace. It was completely covered with different types of alcohol. You weren’t really educated well enough to be able to tell the difference between them all. She poured you something clear and shoved the cup into your hand. 

“Drink this!” She practically forced you to tilt the cup to your lips and held her hand under the bottom while you drained the contents. 

You were sputtering and gagging by the time it was finished, “That was horrible!”” 

“I know, it was pure vodka,” she laughed. “But it will get you loosened up.”

You felt like vomiting. She poured you something else. 

Her boyfriend leaned between the two of you to point over at someone. “Matty is over there. Why don’t you go talk to him?” 

You turned to see where he was pointing. Matt was the guy who was supposed to be your date tonight. He played college football with your roommate's boyfriend. You gave an unenthusiastic smile. That was supposed to be your cue to leave the two of them alone so they could enjoy their night as a couple. You weren’t sure what the point of your coming was. It wasn’t like your friend was planning on actually spending time with you. 

You reluctantly made your way over to Matt and gave him an awkward wave, “You’re Matt, right?” 

He nodded, “Yeah. My friend’s call me Matty, though.” 

“Great,” you replied. You weren’t a friend so you thought you’d stick with Matt. “Uhm, nice to meet you, I guess.” 

He looked you over, overtly eyeing up and down your body. You curled into yourself under his gaze and quickly started drinking whatever was in your cup. It tasted like bleach and lime. You did your very best not to make a face of disgust and keep drinking. 

“You’re supposed to be my date then?” He asked. 

“I guess,” you shuffled the toe of your foot against the ground. “Do you-”

He cut you off, “I was told you were really hot.” 

You laughed at that. It was a self deprecating, uncomfortable laugh. He was already heavily intoxicated, swaying on his feet. You wanted to go home. The forced smile faded from your face as you turned your sights to look out over the city. 

“Sorry to disappoint you,” you stated, feeling like shit. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him shrug, “Nah man. It’s cool. You’re still hot but, like, a prudish kind of hot. Like how the pastor’s daughter is always smokin’ hot but you know she’d never actually go down on you, so you don’t even try to bark up that tree, ‘cause it leads nowhere. Not really fuckable, ya feel me?” 

You didn’t feel him. You felt insulted for some reason. As if being called unfuckable by a drunk stranger was the worst thing you could ever be called. Matt was clearly looking for one thing tonight. He wanted someone easy. He took one look at you, uncomfortable in your roommates clothes, and could instantly tell you weren’t that kind of girl. She could dress you up but she couldn’t change your personality. You were self-conscious and fidgety. Even this dumb jock could see that. Before you could reply, Matt’s attention got pulled away by a group of giggling girls throwing heart eyes at him. He didn’t say a word as he stumbled away, already forgetting your entire existence. 

And, just like that, you were left alone at a party you didn’t want to be at. 

You finished the drink in your hand despite wanting to gag every time it touched your lips. You were already starting to feel the effects of the two drinks. You had never drank in your life so it didn’t take much to make you feel funny. Your skin sort of felt tingly and your thoughts were slow and lazy. Even though you were left on your own, you felt a sudden rush of happiness pushing away the shame. The music was starting to sound less terrible, too. It made you want to dance. You were beginning to feel invincible. Confident. Matty could go fuck himself. You were totally fuckable. You were hot. This dress was super sexy and slutty and short and you were an absolute babe with it on. You could do anything you wanted. You felt like if you stood up on these rooftop railings and jumped, you would simply sore away into the sky like a bird. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

A vaguely familiar voice popped up behind you before you had time to test your theory of flight. 

You turned around to come face to face with Peter Parker. He was your lab partner for biology. You two usually only ever spoke about class related topics but it was still nice to see a familiar face. You always found him to be very sweet. 

“I wouldn’t expect to see you here, either,” you responded with a big smile. 

Peter laughed, “I guess us nerds don’t usually get invited to rich people’s rooftop parties.” Once the words left his mouth, his eyes widened, afraid that he offended you. He quickly added, “Not that I think you don’t belong here! Or that you’re a nerd. You’re very pretty. Not that nerds can’t be attractive. That’s just a dumb stereotype. I think you’re really smart and you have a nice smile and you look really pretty tonight. Not that you don’t look pretty other days. And not that it matters what you look like. Or…well…I mean…I don’t remember what I was originally talking about…I think I’m drunk.”

The crimson blushing over his cheeks was incredibly endearing. You found yourself leaning in closer. You knew he was always handsome but, tonight, he looked beautiful. Radiant. Mesmerizing. 

You think you might be a little drunk, too. That first cup your friend made you chug was causing your thoughts to swim. The second cup only sealed the deal. 

“Thank you!” It was all that needed to be said. Also, because you sort of forgot what he was saying, too. You got distracted by the way his lips formed each word. They were lovely lips to look at. “I think…” 

His blush deepened and he hid behind the beer bottle in his hand as finished off the contents, “Do, uh, do you want to dance? With me, I mean. Or by yourself is fine too but I’d hope it was with me. That’s why I’m asking. For your hand. Not in marriage! To dance with.” 

You weren’t a dancer but you didn’t think Peter was either. That made you feel more confident in accepting his offer. 

“Okay,” you nodded, laughing at how he managed to out awkward you. 

He took the cup from your hands and put it onto the first table he saw along with his own empty beer. Then, he took your hand and pulled you inside, onto the dance floor that had been set up in the living room cleared of furniture. The feeling of your hand in his, the way he easily maneuvered you through the crowd, sent an excited, pulsating electricity shooting up your spine. Peter found a nice spot off to the edge of the crowd. There, you two could still enjoy the energy without being trampled on by all the sweaty bodies. 

An unspoken tension settled in the air between you and Peter. You were drawn to him. Captivated by him. You’d often spend the two hours of your lab huddled up close to his face while sharing a microscope but this felt different. Stronger. You couldn’t stop staring at the way his body moved. It might be the alcohol talking but he seemed to have a natural flow to his movements. You felt in sync with him. Your eyes shamelessly traveled down his body, much like Matt had done to you earlier. Only instead of feeling nervous like you had, Peter merely smirked, the smile flashing over his lips. Without his usual oversized sweatshirt, you could easily make out the strong muscles of his biceps as they pulled the sleeves of his t-shirt tight against his arms. You would have never guessed he was hiding those under there. 

You got lost in the music, loving it a million times more than when you first entered the party. You were moving, swaying, and bouncing along to the beat. Peter was right there with you like he was reading your mind, or reading your body, able to anticipate which way you were swaying and following your lead. The rest of the party faded around you as your eyes locked with Peter’s. It was just the two of you and the unfamiliar sensual tension clouding the air, growing thicker with each passing second. 

You were not a prude. You were not the preacher’s daughter. Matt could go fuck himself. He had no idea what you were like. All he did was take one look at you and thrust his own narrative on your shoulders. Yeah, maybe you were still a virgin, but you gave a guy a blow job. Once. In your senior year of high school. That qualifies you to be a part of a Non-Prude Club. Fucking Matty, that piece of shit. A big giant turd. That’s what he was. His brain had probably been hit one too many times during football anyway. You didn’t even think he was that attractive. Maybe he was the one who wasn’t fuckable? You bet he never thought of that!

Peter didn’t think you were a prude. He thought you were pretty and he wanted to dance with you. That means…well, it doesn’t mean much, but your vodka fueled brain was trying to connect some kind of dots together. Peter wanted to fuck you. That was probably it. Or maybe that was Matt who wanted to do that. Not Peter. You were getting them confused. 

No, no, Matt didn’t want to fuck you. Or he did but he didn’t think you would let him. 

And he was right. You wouldn’t have let him. He was kind of gross. 

But, Peter…

“Am I fuckable?”

His eyes widened, “Excuse me?”

“What?” Did you say that out loud? Shit. “I didn’t say anything!” 

His smile grew. He leaned down to speak directly into your ear, “Yes. You are.” 

Heat flooded your face. Holy shit. A nervous, intoxicated laugh tumbled from your lips. The song changed to a new track and your eyes lit up. 

“I know this one!” You excitedly bounced on the balls of your feet. 

“Everyone knows Britney Spears,” Peter laughed at your enthusiasm as I’m a Slave 4 U blasted out the speakers. 

Someone bumped into you from behind and sent you tumbling into Peter’s chest. He steadied you back onto your feet. Instead of moving away, you embraced the closeness, feeling bold, and wrapping your arms around his neck. His eyebrows raised, slightly taken off guard, but he quickly settled his hands comfortably around your waist. The electricity in the air heightened. You wanted Peter to touch you forever. There was not a single other person in this party except for him. You smiled up at him through hazy eyes. 

“I never drank alcohol before tonight,” you confessed. Something in his eyes felt safe, like you could tell him all your secrets and he wouldn’t tell another soul. He would keep you safe. A protector. “I don’t think I’m too drunk, though. I think I’m just happy. I could still totally drive a car.” 

That was a lie. You didn’t even have your license. It felt pointless when you grew up in the city. 

Peter chuckled. It was a nice sound. 

“I didn’t know you were so innocent,” he teased. “Never had a drop of anything before?”

You feigned a gasp at his comment, “I am not innocent! Why are people always assuming that about me tonight? What vibes am I giving off? My roommate told me these were some of her favorite slut clothes. Apparently they’re doing nothing to help my image.” 

“Oh, trust me, they are,” He nodded with appreciation for her tight fitting outfit. Then added, “You’re at a happy drunk level. Me too…but that might just be because you’re here with me.”

Your stomach tumbled with excited butterflies. With Britney Spears cheering you on, you pushed your body closer, brushing against his. As you swayed to her hypnotic beat, you purposely rubbed your hips into his. The moment you made contact, you felt his arousal. Solid and hard against you. 

You let out a tiny gasp, eyes widening in shock. You hadn’t been expecting that. That was because of you. You had given him that. You. Peter’s eyes had closed and his lips parted when you pushed against him. For a split second, it looked like he was going to let out a moan right there in front of everyone. His eyes shot open when he realized what was happening and a slew of slurred, bashful apologies tumbled out of him. Before he could get too embarrassed, you silenced him by repeating the movement. This time, locking eyes with him with a defiant stare, as you rubbed your pelvis over his erection as if you were daring him to stop you. 

You would show him you weren’t innocent. You would prove him wrong.

He licked his steadily drying lips and swallowed the lump in his throat. He was completely speechless, utterly in awe. This was a new side of you, one you hadn’t even known existed before tonight. A horny, needy side. It only took him until the chorus to snap out of his stunned daze. His hands traveled up your sides, curving around your waist, then traveling back down. He hovered over your butt, watching your reaction to see if you’d object. When all he got a quiet smirk urging him on, his large hands cupped your cheeks. You could feel your dress riding up your thighs as he squeezed you, bunching up the fabric. He pressed you closer, holding you tightly against his erection. You tightented your grip around his neck, smooshing your breasts against his chest, and feeling the flood of wetness rush to your core. 

I’m a slave for you. I cannot hold it, I cannot control it. I’m a slave for you. I won’t deny it, I’m not tryna hide it.

Britney was always right. You really were trying to have him dance up on you. You could not control it and you won’t deny it. Truer words had never been spoken. 

You felt weak. A good kind of weak. Like your knees might give out at any moment and your head was spinning but everything felt wonderful. A happy drunk. That’s what Peter had called it. Or a horny drunk. Maybe both. 

The more you held his gaze, the more attractive he became. You didn’t think that was possible but here you are. The flecks of sparkling light reflected off those beautiful hickory colored eyes. You were lost in them. Lost in his magnetic pull. His lips were centimeters from yours. He wanted to kiss you but he was letting you close the gap, giving you the choice. You took a shuddered breath and smashed your lips together. It might have been a little too eager and aggressive but Peter easily remedied your attack. He softened his lips and gently eased open your mouth with his tongue. The butterflies in your stomach turned to a frenzy at the feeling of his warm tongue gliding across yours. It reminded you of a dance. Much like your bodies were still pressed together and swaying to the music, your tongues were having their own party. 

When your breath became short, you carefully pulled yourself back with a dazed smile. 

Peter’s smile matched your own. The alcohol swam in vision, giving him adorable bleary eyes. He looked more relaxed than you had ever seen him. 

“Have you had your fill of dancing?” He asked once the song ended. 

You had forgotten you were even in a room full of people. You glanced around you, noticing Matt eyeing you from the other side of the room. He looked impressed, wondering if he had gotten the completely wrong impression of you. He raised his drink and winked in your direction as if to apologize for his own mistake. It made you giggle. You flipped him off with a smile. 

You turned back to Peter, the smile still lingering on your face. You were enjoying the tension between the two of you. You liked the dangerous excitement of rubbing up on Peter in the midst of a crowd. You were afraid of the moment ending if you left but your head was spinning and you needed some fresh air. 

“Let’s go back outside,” you offered. “The music is just as loud out there.”

Peter nodded in agreement. You had the feeling he would have gone anywhere you asked him to. He took your hand and tugged you towards the terrace. The entire glass wall opened up to make a seamless transition from the inside of the penthouse to the out. The night air felt cool in your throat. It helped soothe the pounding heartbeat in your chest. A coiled up excitement resided in the pit of your stomach from your adventures on the dancefloor. You wanted more. 

Peter pushed his way to the corner. It was the one place the lights failed to reach. It felt like a very purposeful spot to bring you. He turned around, leaning against the railing, and studying you with burning, passion filled eyes. His gazed forced your own downward, like he was a blazing fire, too bright and hot to stare at for too long. Except now you were now looking directly at what had been pressed against you. 

His dark, skinny jeans left little to the imagination. While the stiff material kept him from achieving his full potential, the bulging outline over his inner thigh was more than enough to get the idea of what he was working with. Truthfully, you had no idea what was considered large or small when it came to dicks. Like with alcohol, your knowledge was limited. But Peter looked quite big to you. He was clearly very excited to be in your presence. That was the nice thing about men. You could always tell when they were attracted to you. You were enjoying the power it made you feel. You felt sexy. Fuckable. 

You had been staring at it for too long. You needed to avert your eyes back to his face. 

When you finally forced your gaze back where it belonged, Peter was smirking at you. He had enjoyed watching you get lost in the sight. He liked knowing that his body was showing you how attractive he found you. He wanted you to know. It wasn’t a secret. Before you could allow yourself to be embarrassed, you twirled around, letting your skirt flare up around your thighs and started dancing again to the music. The perfect distraction. He caught you in his grasp, spinning you away from him, and then pulling you close. He was more suave than you gave him credit for. He might actually have some decent moves. 

You turned around in his hold, leaning your back against his chest. Peter’s arms naturally snaked around your waist to hold you to him. He tightened the hold so your bottom was rubbing once more against his bulge as you lazily swayed back and forth. Your dancing was more of a  gentle rubbing at this point but you didn’t mind. Whatever kept you locked to Peter was okay in your eyes. You wanted to keep him excited. 

His face leaned down, his cheek brushing against your hair, and you heard him inhale the scent of light, floral perfume. You could have sworn you felt his bulge twitch. You had to refrain from squeezing your own thighs together at the thought. Tingly, hot sensations were flooding your core. The need to thrust your hips or rub yourself on something was becoming stronger. 

You swore Peter could sense the subtle change in your breath because, as if he knew how aroused you were getting, his hands started to travel. They slid down your thighs until they reached the bottom of your dress, gliding the material through his fingers. 

“I’ve never seen you wear a dress like this before,” he breathed, voice ragged, in your ear. “I like it.” 

Your ears felt like they were burning, your chest was tight, your toes wanted to curl in your flats. All from the sound of his voice. Of course he had never seen you wear a dress like this. The only other time he saw you was in your early morning lab. He was used to your oversized cardigans, comfy leggings, and a permanent sleepy expression. 

His hand slipped under the loose hem of the dress. He hesitated, testing the waters to see if you’d say something, when no objects came he glided over your underwear to rest on your bare hips. The back of your skirt lifted with his wrists to expose the bottom cheeks of your butt. You could feel him lean back enough to get a quick look. He seemed to like what he saw because he almost immediately ground his hips against you. 

You couldn’t stop the gasping moan that fell from your lips. Your body felt alive. You could feel the jolt of electricity shoot from your nipples down to your clit. You pushed back, grinding your bottom into his erection. You had no idea what had gotten into you but you couldn’t stop. His obvious arousal only fueled your own spreading fire. 

Even your nipples were painfully erect. Your friend had assured you that this dress had a built in bra and you wouldn’t need to wear one. That was a load of bullshit because it was obvious how hard your nipples were poking out. Your breath was becoming labored. You were in the middle of a rooftop party, actively grinding on your lab partner, and drunk on whatever the hell energy Peter was giving off. It wasn’t even the alcohol that was making you act like this. It was all Peter Parker. 

You turned in his grasp, throwing your arms around his neck, and finding his lips. He fell back against the railing with your sudden enthusiasm. He managed to keep himself from falling and slid his leg between yours. Without even thinking about it, you rested your core against his thigh. The wetness seeping into your underwear was now blatantly evident to you. Give it a minute and Peter would surely become aware of it, too. 

His hands roved hungrily over your body without any more hesitation. You opened your mouth, letting in his tongue, as he fervently attacked your lips. You angled your hips downward and thrust them against his jeans. Your aching clit screamed in pleasure at the delicious friction. Peter was back under your skirt and cupping your bottom. He helped push you along, easing the aid of you grinding against his thigh. 

His mouth left yours to leave sloppy, wet kisses along your cheek and down your neck until he found a spot he liked. He suctioned his lips to a pulse point and began sucking and nipping at your soft skin. Your eyes rolled back, mouth parted, at how wonderful it felt. A mix of pain and pleasure. He was bruising your neck, claiming you as his own with a visible mark. You let him dominate you, manipulate you however he pleases. You were his. A slave for Peter Parker. 

When he slowly pulled back from your neck, a trail of saliva connected your skin to his bottom lip. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the corner of his lips tugging into a satisfied smile as he admired his work. It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen in your entire life. 

“Do you need a break?” He whispered, his voice hardly heard above the obnoxious techno music now playing. 

You swallowed. You probably should stop. You should probably slow down. You were getting too lost in your own feelings. But you shook your head “no”. You didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want to have to pull yourself away from him. 

“I told you,” you whispered back, resting your forehead against his. “I’m not innocent.” 

“Are you sure about that?” He asked, the amusement coating his voice. “If I dragged you into the nearest coat closet right now, what would you do?” 

You didn’t hesitate in your reply, lust dripping with every syllable, “I would let you touch me however you wanted.” 

That was it.

Peter shoved his way past any person who stood in his way. He lead you through the crowd, swerving and weaving between sweaty bodies. The penthouse was huge. The first door he opened was the bathroom but it left too much probability of someone potentially needing to use it. The next was a guest bedroom. That one was already taken. The three people inside of it weren’t too pleased to see two more show up unannounced. The third was nearest to the elevator. It was a narrow, walk-in closet filled with fancy coats and shoes. 

“Jackpot,” Peter muttered under his breath. 

He pushed you inside and shut the door behind him. It was decently sound proofed in here with all the jackets. The music instantly muffled into the distance. You tugged on a gold chain hanging from the ceiling to flick on a single bulb. It wasn’t much light but it was enough. You turned to face Peter, the spell from outside starting to crack as the nerves set in. You might not have been entirely truthful when you told him you’d let him touch you however he wanted. The thought of losing your virginity in a closet wasn’t exactly how you envisioned it. 

Peter’s smile softened when he caught the apprehensive glint in your eye. He reached out his hand and tugged you close to him as he leaned against the door, making sure no one could enter. He placed a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

“Remember when I told you were fuckable earlier?” He asked. 

You nodded. 

“Well,” he continued. “I didn’t mean to imply that you were nothing more than a quickie in a stranger’s closet. I hope it didn’t come off that way and that was the impression you got. This might have gotten a little out of hand. We might have gotten a bit carried away.” He took a step away from the door so you could leave if you wanted to. “If you want to go, it’s okay, I won’t stop you. I had enough fun tonight to last me a lifetime. Just being able to dance with you made my day.” 

You gave him a light shove, pushing him back in front of the door to act as a human lock, taking back control, “I never said anything about leaving.” You took a deep breath, being brave, and trying to advocate for exactly what you wanted from him. “What I said still stands. You can touch me however you want but just with your hands. Okay?” You trailed a finger down his forearm, grazing over his wrist, and locking fingers with him. “If you want to go, it’s okay, I won’t stop you.”  

His smile grew when you repeated his own sentiment back to him. To help build back up the same electric energy from outside, you pressed closer to him and grazed your breasts against his chest, letting him feel how erect your nipples were. He tenderly cupped your cheeks with his large hands and captured your lips with his.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time,” he mumbled against your lips. His kiss was slower than the other two like he was really savoring the moment. You felt special. Wanted. Beautiful and sexy all at the same time. The way he worshiped your lips made you feel like the only woman left in the world. Maybe you were. Maybe nothing existed outside of this closet. All that was left was you and Peter. 

“Mmph,” was all you could manage back. Very articulate. 

And, just like that, you were back under the Parker spell. 

His hands made a slow descent away from your cheeks. They traveled down your neck, pausing for his long fingers to gently wrap around it, making you feel small inside his grasp. They brushed over your shoulders, toying with the thin straps to your dress, inching them to the side until they fell down the slope of your arm. The back of his fingers traced over the swell of your breast, letting the hard nub of your nipple feel every bump as he dragged each of his four fingers slowly over it. He was taking his time, carefully watching your every move and listening for every hitch of your breath. He was treating you like a precious piece of art that was meant to be admired and painstakingly inspected under a magnifying glass so as not to miss any precious details. 

The pooling wetness between your thighs caused your soaked through underwear to cling uncomfortably to you. You wished you could remove them but still felt too nervous to make any moves and distract Peter from his work. You stood still as a statue, lids half closed, as he molded his hand to your breast. Your eyes gazed up at him, helpless under his touch, the sounds of your heavy breaths the only thing you were now able to hear. 

A quiet moan whined in your throat when he pinched your nipple through your dress, capturing it between the knuckles of his middle and pointer finger. He shuddered at the sound, giving a sharp inhale. He wanted to hear it again. His free hand wrapped around your thigh to close the miniscule gap between your hips. He thrust his hips forward, rubbing himself against you, as he molded your breast in his hand.

“Can-” he breathed. “Can I?” 

His fingers slipped into cups of your dress, starting to tug them down to imply what he was asking, and pausing to look to you for confirmation. You gave a silent nod. 

Peter nearly stopped breathing as he tugged the top half of your dress down to reveal your naked breasts. His eyes were alive with flames while he took in the new sights. He tenderly cupped under your breast, giving it a gentle squeeze, watching as your flesh melded to his touch. His mouth opened and closed a few times, like he was begging to capture your nipple between his lips, but he stuck to the “only hands” rule, using his thumb to flick over it instead. 

Your hardly audible moans hit his ear. The sound must have awoken something in him because he responded to it with a whimper of his own. You glanced down to his crotch. His erection was thicker than before. It looked painfully locked up behind the confines of his jeans. You wanted to unleash it, let it be free, but you were too scared to take that leap. 

Peter didn’t seem to care about what his cock was feeling. He was too focused on losing himself in your body. He was more of a giver and a taker, you could tell. His hand still gripping onto your hip started to get more daring. You felt him sliding closer to your core. His fingers traced over the elastic band of your underwear, circling around the tiny, ribbon bow adorning the top. If you had known this was how you would end up tonight, you would have bought something sexier. That concern immediately flew from your thoughts as his fingers slipped between your thighs. His palm rested over your mound while the pads of his finger tips traced along the drenched material. His ragged inhale was all you needed to know to understand how turned on that feeling made him. 

“You’re so wet,” he growled in your ear. 

“Mm,” you croaked out, eyes closed. Words were no longer something your brain had access to. 

You bit your bottom lip the harder he pressed your panties against your slit. The thin cotton material was the only thing holding him back from entering you. 

Peter lifted his other hand to brush under your chin. He lifted your head so you were forced to look up at him. You pried your eyes open, staring at him through heavy lids. Your mouth hung open to accommodate your panting breaths. He locked eyes with you, looking into your soul, as he slipped the wet fabric to the side. 

You gave a silent, wide eyed cry when his finger grazed over your bare slit. Your stomach seized, nearly doubling you over, in excitement. You felt your folds open to his touch. His leg resting between yours nudged your ankle, telling you to spread your legs open a little wider for him. You clutched onto the front of his shirt, grabbing a fistful of it into your grasp. Without it, you felt like you might collapse. The look of lust etched into his features caused you to nearly orgasm on the spot. Your body was trembling, craving more, nodding your head as if that would make Peter work faster instead of slowly dragging everything out at a crawling pace. 

He leaned down, whispering in your ear, “I’m going to make you cum for me.” 

That nearly did it. You whimpered, letting your eyes close again. Peter tugged your underwear down your legs. They stopped at your knees, the width at which you were standing not allowing them to go any further. It was enough. His hand cupped between your thighs, rubbing you, teasing you. You grind your hips, thrusting your clit against his palm. He gave a soft chuckle, enjoying how desperate you had become. 

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” he mumbled to himself. 

His long fingers moved gently on you, caressing your wetness, feeling how easily they slid through the slickness you were creating for him. All for him. He continued to simply feel you until you gazed back up at him. He was waiting for your eye contact. Your heart was pounding, waiting for the inevitable, and surrendering yourself over to him. The moment you locked on, he eased his middle finger between your parted lips while his thumb brushed slow circles around your clit. It was the first time a man’s finger had ever touched your sex. You felt the pressure, felt the fear, felt the excitement and the slight searing of pain at how tight you were. You whined as the pain and pleasure mixed to create an intense, swirling storm deep in your sex. Your pussy felt like it was sucking him in, trying to eat him whole, the deeper he sank into you. 

You clung to the front of his shirt, balled up fists, and tears spiking in your eyes. It felt so good. More intense than anything you’d ever felt. You’d touched yourself before but Peter was different. Better. You were sharing the moment, giving up control, and letting someone else learn the intimate details of your body. Your legs were shaking. Your knees felt weak. 

You buried your head into Peter’s neck as he started a steady, slow rhythm of easing his finger half way in and out of you. He focused most of his attention on servicing your throbbing clit. He could tell you were a virgin, he could tell how tight you were squeezing him, and he wanted to go as slow as possible so as not to hurt you. Even a single finger felt like it was filling you up. You were moaning against his neck, whimpering, whining, beginning for more. Your hips worked with each small thrust of his finger, trying to push it deeper. You thrust your clit against his thumb. Your body was taking over as you tumbled towards a climax. 

Peter’s lips were pressed against your ear. He whispered quiet words of encouragement, urging you on, praising you, comforting you. The night was all starting to meld together. The slutty dress, vodka, the obnoxiously loud music, how easily Matt rejected you with nothing more than a few words, finding Peter, dancing together, Britney Spears, the passionate terrace make out, the closet and how sweet Peter had been to quell your obvious fears, the way his finger felt so big inside of you. The entire night was swirling around your thoughts. A tornado building inside your brain. Ready to wipe out anything it touched. 

“That’s it,” Peter whispered over your pathetic whines. “There you go. Cum for me. You’re right there. Let it go. Let it happen.” 

You gave a sharp cry as light exploded in your vision. The tornado tore straight through you, ripping your mind from your body. You were floating in the air. High above everything else. You had no control of the way your body jerked and spasmed, held tightly against Peter’s chest. You’d never experienced an orgasm this powerful. It would have brought you straight to your knees had Peter not been holding you upright. 

He wrapped his arms around you, tracing his fingers over your back and up your neck. He soothed you with a quiet humming until your mind came crashing back down to earth. You were shaking, shivering, eyes glued closed. Peter was your one tether to cling on to. He kept you grounded as you let the tornado fade off into the distance. 

When you finally managed to get your bearings once more, you took a shaky step back from him. He kept his arms outstretched in case he needed to suddenly catch you if you decided to crumble. You shrugged the straps of your dress back up and adjusted the chest so your breasts were back to being concealed. 

Peter had given you a gift you didn’t even know you were looking for. You wanted to repay the favor but you didn’t think your body could handle anything more tonight. Instead, you slipped the underwear still clinging around your knees down to your ankles. You carefully stepped out of them. He watched in a silent curiosity as you closed the gap between you two, stuffing them into the pocket of his jeans. 

“To give you something to remember me by,” you stood on your tippy toes, planting a kiss on his cheek. A sweet, innocent kiss. 

He looked at you with an awe, loved filled gaze as you pushed open the closet door and stumbled into the hallway. 

When he didn’t follow, you glanced over your shoulder with a sly smirk, “Well? Are you coming?” 

[madzlang]

what about this: reader is on what they thought was an innocent facetime call with andrew garfield spider-man but it turns out he's 'secretly' been jacking off 🙊🙊

contrary to popular belief, I do indeed respond to my asks 😋

nah, but actual, lovely request, and I’ve been thinking about this one for a while, soo hope you like it ♥️

Keep Going…

(andrew) peter parker x fem!reader

warnings: male and female masturbation, phone sex, squirting, that’s like it

“And get this, he spilled coffee on me then yelled at me for trying to leave to clean it up.” She rambled on, lying on her left side as she spoke to her boyfriend.

“Pete? You listening to me?” She muttered, flipping around to lay on her stomach, holding her phone under her.

“Mhm, always do, sweetheart.” She heard his out of breath voice from her phone, furrowing her brows at the sound of it.

“You okay, Pete? You don’t sound too well.” She spoke worriedly.

Suddenly he moved the phone to in front of his face, which was flushed red. “I’m fine, babe. Promise.”

“You don’t look well, either. Are you sick?” She groaned. “I told you just because you’re Spider-Man doesn’t mean you can be out late at night during winter when it’s raining-“

“I-I’m not sick, baby.” He shook his head, his fluffy hair bouncing.

“Well, what’s wrong with you?” She asked, pouting slightly.

“Nothin’. Nothin’s wrong.” He shook his head again making her huff and bury her head into her pillow.

“Hey, hey, baby. Don’t stop talking, ‘kay? Keep going.” He mumbled, his voice sounding slurred, and when she looked back at her phone only his neck was visible due to his head being thrown back.

“Pete.” She whined and she heard him mutter ‘fuck’ under his breath. “What’s wrong?”

He groaned, chewing on his bottom lip before he looked back at the screen, his brown eyes hazy.

“You sure you wanna know?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

She nodded enthusiastically, attentively looking at her phone screen.

He swallowed harshly before moving his phone down to around hip level.

Her jaw dropped as she saw his veiny hand wrapped around the base of his dick pop up on her screen.

“Pete.” She muttered breathlessly.

“Shit- yeah, Princess?” He groaned loudly, her eyes going wide when she saw his hand start to move up and down, his thumb running over the tip of his dick.

“You- you’re jerking off.” She whispered, trying to pull her eyes away from the sight but she couldn’t.

“Mhm. To the sound of your voice, baby. Been too long since I’ve had you wrapped around me.” He groaned out, a bead of pearly precum dribbling down the length of his cock.

“Pete.. have- have you done this before?” She whispered, holding back the urge to slide a hand down and into her pyjama shorts.

“Mhm” he groaned out, his hand moving even faster. “That okay, babe?”

She whimpered, hearing the loud squelching of his hand around his dick and watching as the tip of his cock got redder and the veins got more prominent. “Yeah.. yeah, it’s okay.” She whispered out, her mouth salivating.

His pearly teeth bit into his pink bottom lip. “Baby, touch yourself. You know you want to.” He spoke lowly, his hips thrusting into his fist.

She whimpered and nodded, moving the camera down to hip level, just like how he has it, and wiggled her pyjama shorts off, leaving her in an oversized shirt (that belonged to Peter) and light pink panties that had a dark patch at her entrance.

He groaned, seeing the wet patch on her panties, his hand moving even faster around his dick. "Fuck, you're so fucking wet."

"All for you." She whined out, propping her phone up with a pillow so the could use both hands to pull her panties down, throwing them somewhere in the room.

"Shit, look at that. Fuckin' cunt fluttering around nothing, huh? Bet you want my cock, right?" He spoke lowly, taking his hand off his dick to lightly roll his balls in his hand, staving off his impeding orgasm.

She whined, nodding her head and running her index finger through her folds, tracing her slit as her arousal practically dripped down onto her bedding.

"Stick a finger inside your pretty pussy for me, yeah?" He grumbled, his hand wrapping back around his dick.

She whimpered and followed his orders, circling her entrance with her middle finger before easing inside of her, a sharp moan escaping her lips.

“There ya go.” He groaned, his eyes fixed on her finger as it disappeared inside of her pussy, his hand movements speeding up.

She whined, curling her finger up inside of her, her other hand playing with her clit.

“That’s its princess. Keep fucking yourself. Imagine it’s me, yeah? Stick another finger inside your pretty cunt, baby.” He groaned out, his hips bucking up to meet the movements of his hand.

She whimpered, moving her ring finger to join her middle finger in her movements inside of her.

His voice faded out in her ears as the white hot pleasure built in her lower stomach.

“Pete- Petey!” She whined out, her eyebrows furrowing.

“What? You’re gonna cum already? Fuck, desperate, aren’t you?” He groaned, tilting his head back for a second before looking back at his phone screen.

“Mhm!” She whined, feeling her arousal drip down her ass cheeks and onto the her sheets even more.

“Fuck, yeah, cum for me, baby. Gush around those fingers.” He grumbled, feeling his thighs tense as his own orgasm approached.

She whimpered, her fingers rubbing her clit faster as her legs shook and she threw her head back into the pillows, a large gush of liquid exiting her body and a shaky moan exiting her body.

He groaned in response, biting his lip as the camera on her end got blurry, her squirt covering her phone. His hand tightened around the base of his cock as he also came, closing his eyes as his cum covered his stomach, chest, and hand.

She whimpered, taking her fingers out of her pussy and looking at her phone, her eyes widening as she used her (his) shirt to wipe off her phone screen so it wasn’t covered in her squirt anymore.

“So, baby, what happened after your boss yelled at you?” He asked lazily, bringing his phone back up to his flushed face, staring at her through the phone.

i never know how to end these ahh

[petals2fish]

The Golden Globes Incident

James Potter cannot get a decent interview in with Lily Evans. It's mostly because any time they get together it's all banter and wit, which leaves the couple no time for seriousness. one shot. Victoria on Tumblr asked me to re-create the Andrew Garfield interview at the golden globes but with jily, and this is the result. READ ON A03 (and yes I do plan on writing the chicken shop date @joyseuphoria for this to add onto)

“I heard Lily Evans is going to be here.” Peter, James’ cameraman, said sneakily as he set up his tripod, “you going to act like an idiot again?”

“James always acts like an idiot when Lily Evans is around.” Marlene, James’ producer, said with a tinge of annoyance, “and the reason I am here and not in the studio.”

James shot his producer a sheepish grin, “you act as if you have better things to do with your time.”

Marlene waved the cards in her hands at James, “I brought cue cards, in the hopes I can keep you on topic around the woman, although after the last interview I highly doubt it.”

“I can be professional.” James argued as he straightened his bow tie, “she’s the one who got me off topic last time.”

“You guys spent twenty minutes comparing cows to cats,” Marlene deadpanned, “forgive me for lacking faith in you.”

“We don’t even know if she’s truly going to be available for interview.” James reminded them, “or if she’s even here.”

The screams from the fans across the road announced her presence first. People begging for her to look their way, to come over, and to acknowledge their existence. James would honestly do the same for her attention, had done so, back when he was nothing but a footballer and she was a child star trying to live a normal life. Going to American high school and being two of the three brits on site had placed them both in similar crowds, but nothing had ever come of them but friendship.

But this wasn’t high school, and now they were basically strangers, acquaintances at best. James had done his football thing, retired early due to a poor shoulder, and became an entertainment host for ABC. Lily had propelled from her childhood sitcom on Disney into an impressive acting career that had landed her at the Golden Globes that night. They saw each other around, mostly at these events, but every time he was reminded just how much he missed seeing her every day in high school.

Then she appeared and James felt as if his breath left his lungs at the sight of her.

There she was, walking over to him with the biggest grin plastered on her face. Lily Evans’ cheeks were shining with glitter painted on like freckles, and her green eyes were shadowed with golden dust. She wore a stunning dress that made her pale skin look tanner than usual, or she’d just gotten back from an ocean-based vacation.

God, she was just beautiful.

She wasn’t going to come over to him though, no, the last time they’d seen each other had probably scared her off for good. He turned towards the cameraman, pretending to be interested in a nonexistent conversation. He tried to look nonchalant. He didn’t dare look at her until after he was sure she’d passed by. He couldn’t take rejection, not from her.

“James.”

Lily was standing directly beside him and hadn’t passed him by. James turned halfway and looked at her. She stood eye to eye with him since she wore heels. She was even more goddess like up close and personal. James looked back at his coworkers for confirmation that he could start an interview with her. Even though he never managed to talk to her normally, in any situation.

Peter nodded at him, and Marlene made a motion with her hand that meant the camera was rolling and they wanted him to interview her. Right, James had to do his job.

Lily, however, gave an awkward wave to the camera and turned her back to the camera. James touched her shoulder with the microphone, and she cackled, turning back to face him, and allowing the camera to angle down her body for dress shots.

“Looking lovely.” His voice cracked like a twelve-year-old boy, bloody hell.

“Oh, you are interested in talking to me?” She pestered him.

“Of course.”

“I just saw this…” Lily gave an imitation awkward smile and turned away from James, pretending to be him five seconds ago when he’d seen her coming and hadn’t known whether to run away or die on the spot.

“No, I didn’t do that!” He sniggered off his awkwardness, she always gets him laughing when she’s around.

“You did!” Lily pressed a fresh manicured hand to her red tainted mouth, “you’re like a capybara in the wild”

“No!” He felt like he wanted the red carpet to swallow him up now that he knew she’d seen how awkward he had been at the sight of her. “I was smiling!”

“Good.” Lily brushed a strand of her auburn hair back, “I thought you were going to pretend you didn’t know me.”

“I was smiling! I was like…” his smile was strained because he was aware of everyone within fifteen feet watching them. “Happy to see you!”

“It was not! It was this…” Lily did a perfect imitation of James’ side eye. He had to laugh at that, because she looked preposterous, which meant he’d been even more stupid looking.

“No, I was happy!” He cried, touching her shoulder, and forcing her to bring her eyes from her feet to his face.

There was a playful fire in her eyes that made his stomach twist into knots as they stared each other down. It was if she were daring him to give in and make a move, declaring her mutual attraction. James tilted the corners of his mouth into a quizzical expression as she stuffed her hands into the folds of her gown.

“Can we start over?” Lily and James both looked over to the camera man and his producer, who currently had her arms crossed and had interrupted their little reunion. “This isn’t usable material.”

“Right,” James cleared his throat and then pointed the microphone at the actress. “Professional.”

Lily bent down so her mouth pressed into his microphone with a sly little, “hi.”

He couldn’t resist matching her smile with one of his own smoldering grins as he brought the microphone back to his lips to respond to her just a coyly. “Hi.”

The sparks flying between them were undeniable. She looked beyond happy to be standing in his shadow. There were no words in the English language that could describe how he was looking at her, at least none he could remember.

He started to ask a question, but Lily bent back, face ecstatic and she winked at him as she said, “Fancy seeing you here.”

Her red hair was also dusted with gold, making her look as if she were hand painted by an artist. James would love for one afternoon to sit and paint the way her smile lifted her cheeks. He’d love to sketch every feature to perfection. He’d taste her skin with his—nope wrong time to think about that.

The last time they had run into each other had also been an awards show. He’d complimented her cat, asked her if she liked pizza, and made some off-the-wall comment about her leg hair. This time, for the golden globes, he ought to be more refined. There was something about Lily Evans that brought out his worst and best parts. The last time they’d met, he hadn’t gotten even a reel of good footage to use. It had all been banter and wit.

That’s what led James to start with a polite, mildly flirtatious, “we must stop meeting like this.”

Lily snorted, brushing off his claim with a wave of her hand, “I only ever want to see you.”

His voice dropped an octave. “What?”

He cannot comprehend what Lily just said out loud, thankfully he could rewind the tape a million times when he got back to the studio. Meanwhile, Lily was still talking like a mile a minute.

“At an, on like a—“ And then Lily saw James’ shocked expression and she quickly covered his hand on the mic. James felt like he might feint as he was now holding her bloody hand. “No, that’s not the end of—“

“What?” James asked again, tugging her up and closer to him.

Lily paused, as if mesmerized by him, before shaking herself from her stupor and adding quickly, “—the sentence! That’s not the end of my sentence!”

James licked his lips, “Care to clarify?”

“I only ever want to see you in this kind of sort of situations.” She seemed to wince, but James didn’t know if his eyes were able to do anything beyond gape at her, let alone deduce her actions fairly. “I mean, I like to see you in these situations.”

“What about other situations?” He asked boldly, or stupidly,

“Not--” Lily’s face was tomato red as she glanced at her publicist who nodded thoroughly at her for whatever answer she was about to give. James arched a brow. So, Lily was being babysat that night. He wondered if it was due to him, and the last viral interview they’d had. Lily turned her eyes back on James and said without an ounce of truth, “not interested.”

James clicked his tongue with feigned disappointment. “I was gonna invite you to my birthday party!”

Lily’s publicist hit herself with her notepad when Lily grabbed James’ elbow and inhaled, “wait, when’s your birthday party?”

“March.” James said, “all our friends will be there.”

“We have mutual friends?” Lily giggled, fucking giggled, in his direction.

She was flirting.

She was flirting so much that everyone watching was picturing what he might say next.

“Oh loads.” James lied. “We miss each other on all the big outings.”

“Well then I should invite you to my birthday.” Lily said, “how rude of me!”

“What astrological sign are you?” James asked, seeing Marlene throw her que cards on the ground in frustration as he once again pulled the interview into a mad direction.

“I’m an Aquarius,” she said, “and yours is Aries.”

“How’d you…” he cut himself off and glanced over his shoulder at the camera crew literally gaping at them, speechless. He would hate himself forever if he didn’t be wholly honest with her now. Screw Marlene and her cue cards. “Did you know that if you have a sun, that’s the same as the sun sign of someone else…”

Lily grew worried by how serious he had become, “is it not good?”

“Nah,” he leaned into her space again, feeling quite courageous. “it’s good.”

They were compatible without all the astrological signals. Hell, he had been attracted to Lily from the first second he saw her walking the hallways of their old school. Everyone had known he’d had a crush on her, everyone but Lily. He had been determined to take her out, but it had always been the right girl at the wrong time. He hoped the timing was finally right.

“Oh, so it’s good that we share a sun or a moon?” She rocked in her heels, “well that’s interesting.”

“Why?” He stepped into her with a cool smirk, his knees brushing the edges of her puffy gown. “Is that an issue?”

“Well because, I don’t…I don’t think we should explore this.” She said faintly, but her eyes weren’t leaving his, almost like she was begging him to just kiss her already.

“Okay, well, I’m not even asking to explore it.” He resisted the urge to tuck her red hair behind her ear as it tickled her sparkling cheek.

“I know, but I’m just like really kind of…” Lily’s voice trailed off as looked at James like she wanted to push him against the nearest wall and find out just how compatible they could be.

He wouldn’t argue, and told her as much with a clever arch of his brow and a seducing brush of his teeth on his lower lip.

“Okay,” Marlene, his producer, retorted boisterously from beside the camera, “we need to do an actual interview you two!”

Lily pretended to not look flustered as she stepped back from James a bit. “Whoops, sorry, he’s just so into me.”

“I’m sorry,” James tried not to flush red and he casually brushed Lily’s wrist with two fingers. “You’re the one who’s obsessed with me.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” She said, motioning at all of him like he hadn’t been joking with her. “I’m scared of what it could turn into.”

Holy shit.

Was she being serious?

Was she being serious and not joking right now?

James’ heart was beating a mile a minute.

“Ugh, okay.” James scratched his head, unsure of what to say because Lily Evans was having a crisis on camera in front of him, about him.

“And I’m not ready for that kinda thing.” She seemed to be talking more to herself than to anyone else. “it’s not you, I just am not ready to really dig into that, right?”

“It would be too much,” he deduced, offering her an out that he didn’t really want to give.

“I’m not ready for it.” Lily confirmed, but she confirmed it a little too hastily as she glanced at her publicist who gave her a thumbs up.

Something was keeping her from bluntly asking him out, and that something was her publicist. James wondered if they had some other plan for her romantic life, a marketing relationship to get her more screen time. James doubted Lily wanted that because she acted like she wanted him instead.

“Oh okay,” James placed his hand on his chest, “well, I am ready whenever you are.”

“Wait.” Lily froze in place, her eyes widening with astonishment at his admittance. “Fuck.”

James realized he had thrown her off and quickly tried to backtrack. “You’re nominated tonight, congratulations.”

“Thank you very much.” Lily still looked like she was sweating, she kept glancing at her publicist who seemed at a loss for words or advice for her client.

James couldn’t remember the questions he had prepared. He felt like a dunce standing in front of her. He willed his brain to come up with something. “You have, I feel like you have an affinity to playing religious characters.”

“Are you serious?” Lily’s face cooled down as she cracked another tickled smile. “That’s what you want to talk about? Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going to ask a serious question?” she argued, “this sounds like you pulled it out of your arse because you forgot what you were really going to ask me.”

James shrugged, “I mean if you don’t want me to interview you—”

Lily took a deep breath in through her nose and then let it out. “You aren’t going to ask any serious questions?”

“Fresh out, sadly.” He admitted, winking at her.

“I knew you would do this!” She hit him with her little Prada bag.

“Ouch,” James gripped his arm dramatically making Lily roll her eyes.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t try acting after football.” She baited him, loving the banter just as much as he did.

James glared down at her, “I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent actor.”

“Hey! Focus!” The producer called to them both. “Please for the love of God, focus!”

“Sorry Marley,” James shot his producer a grin, “old friends—you know the deal.”

“No I don’t know,” Marlene snarled, “but I do know this isn’t an interview!”

Lily grinned sheepishly at James when he looked back at her for confirmation that they were both being yelled at, “No. Go on then. Let’s see what we can do. Let’s see if we can do it.”

Was she talking about them?

Or the bloody question he still hasn’t made up?

“You seem to have an affinity…” he bit his lip, and she let lose a bubble of laughter, “to playing…”

Just then a man, an actor, in a black tux ruined any semblance of an attempt at a normal conversation. He pushed between James and Lily, and the camera, cutting them both off from the camera pointed in their direction. His bodyguard followed him, also blocking the camera.

James’ face fell. “Oh sorry.” He shouted after them sarcastically, “just in the middle of an interview here!”

Lily noticed James’ frustration and started yelling after their retreating backs too. “Yeah, go ahead. Cut in front you fucking bastards!” Then Lily looked at James warily. “Wait, are we live?”

“Kind of?” James said, having to kneel over because he was laughing so hard at her ‘fucking bastards’ comment. “Holy shit you’re hilarious Evans.”

Lily stared laughing too, and they leaned into each other as they cracked up over the situation they had found themselves in.

“Please ask your fucking question.” Lily said while still laughing, wiping her eye, removing some of the glitter from under her eye. “Before we’re rudely interrupted again.”

“You have an affinity for playing religious characters.” James continued, slowing down his breath as his laughter died. “I feel like you’re always playing a religious woman in some way.”

Lily put a hand on her hip and tilted it right. “That’s not a question,”

“Oh yeah, sorry.” He adjusted his glasses on his nose and then very cheekily added, “Why?”

Lily burst into laughter again and walked back a few steps, holding her face as her shoulders shook. The producer, the camera man, and Lily’s handler were all shouting at them now. James knew they were on borrowed time, and about to be separated for their nutty antics on the carpet.

“Wait, we can do this,” James motioned for Lily to come back over, “tell me your favorite food.”

Lily broke down with laughter again, doubling over in front of the camera this time. Her dress shook, looking like a waterfall as it vibrated against her skin. James brushed his fingers through his hair, chuckling, as she placed her lips near the mic, he was still holding it out between them.

“I’ll tell you my least favorite food.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” She started listed several foods.

James glanced over her shoulder when Sirius Black did bunny ears behind Lily without her noticing. Unfortunately, James didn’t look back at her quickly enough because she caught his interest moved elsewhere.

“You just looked over my shoulder. Is it someone more important?” Lily glanced back and spotted Sirius bounding away like a troublesome toddler. “Ah, yes, my costar.”

“Yeah, Sirius Black.” James joked, “can we like wrap this up because I need to speak to him about your terrible interview skills.”

Lily pretended to talk into a mic attached to her ear, “SB is coming in. I better bounce.”

James said speedily, “can I get your autograph before you go?”

“Wait this feels like a trap.” Lily said as he took a pen and paper from his pocket, balancing the mic on the crook of his elbow. ”Is this a trap?”

“No.” James said, “not a trap, just sign it.”

“I’m not going to read what it says.” She dipped the ink against the page and started writing with great big curly letters.

“It says…”

“I’m not reading it.” She repeated, handing the paper and pen back to James, “I won’t.”

“Okay.” He shrugged, “but full disclosure, it’s a best friend’s certificate.”

“Well then call me later bestie,” she winked as she was walked away, or rather, was pushed away by her exasperated publicist. “Bye James.”

James glanced down at the paper.

She had signed it with two hearts.

And her cell phone number.

[wh0re43van]

You are great writer! Stumbled on that on set Evan fic and it was soooo good 🔥 Lol, I actually do work on set and you really captured the atmosphere tbh. Keep it up!

Not sure if you’re open to requests rn, but I would love your take on Evan and his partner trying to make a baby for the first time. He just seems so sweet and I’d love to think of this man in a happy marriage, daydreaming about little feet running around.

Thank you so much! I truly appreciate your kind words <33

So, I decided to make this two parts. This first part is just fluff, the readers get to see Evan in kind of a paternal role in this part, baby making will be in the next, I hope you enjoy!

Also ngl, I had this done for a couple of days now, I just couldn’t think of a title :/ so sorry about that. I’m awful with titles smh

Baby fever (Evan Peters X Reader) Pt. 1

Summary: While babysitting for Evans brother, you realize that you’re finally ready to have a baby, much to your husbands delight.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: none in this part ;)

Pt2 Pt3

“Thank you again, I know it’s a bit short notice, “ Evans brother, Andrew, says as he closes the door behind him to step out onto the dim front porch with Evan, his daughter Ellie, and myself.

“Dude, It’s no problem really!” Even smiles, laying a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder. “It’s always a joy having Ellie around,” he grunts as he picks up her small ‘Peppa Pig’ suitcase and her car seat.

“Yeah, Dad! They love me!” Ellie giggles as she grabs onto my arm. I smile at her snaggle toothed grin. The yellow light of the porch reflecting off her dark hair, making her curly pig tails look golden.

“They’re right Andrew,” I reiterate as we all begin to walk to Evans car, Ellie’s small hand in mine while the crickets chirp their evening song. “Now you go inside and help the Mrs. pack for your..uh.. trip. We’ve got it from here, “ I give Andrew a sympathetic smile, taking Ellie’s sippy cup out of his hand.

Andrews wife’s mother has been rushed to the hospital just a few hours ago and the couple is driving through the night to be there with her. They haven’t told Ellie the reason for the trip, all she knows is that she’s spending the weekend with Auntie y/n and Uncle Evan.

“Be sure to call me if you need anything or if Ellie just wants to talk, bye sweetie,” Andrew picks up his daughter, giving her kiss on the head.

“I love you daddy,” she giggles hugging him back quickly before trying to escape his embrace. “Let me down! I wanna go to Uncle Evans!” She Kicks her small light up sneakers, flashes of purple and red glow on the concrete as her feet hit the ground. Andrew just laughs. Thanking us again before making his way inside.

“Give me the suitcase babe, I’ll throw it in the back,” I take the pink bag out of Evans arms, walking to the trunk to toss it in.

I make my way around the vehicle to see Evan bent over struggling to get the carseat hooked in as Ellie hangs on his leg, both of them erupting in giggles.

“Ellie I can’t get this carseat in with you climbing all over me like that,” he laughs as he pulls at the locked seatbelt, trying to free it so he can stretch it through the back of the child’s seat. Ellie continues as if she hasn’t heard him, and Evan lets her. I smile at the pure joy beaming from my husband. He loves children dearly; his niece is no exception of course. He’s brought up starting a family of our own many times in the few years we’ve been married, I’ve just never felt quite ready with how much time away his job requires, but now things are slowing down and the idea of having a baby grows on me more every day.

“Now Ellie, how will we ever make it to our house if you don’t let Uncle Evan buckle your seat in?” I ask, giving her a stern look. She considers my statement, then reluctantly trudges over to me, leaning on my leg.

“Oh okay,” she frowns, looking up at me with her big hazel eyes.

“Done! … I think.” Evan exclaims, backing away from the vehicle. I stifle a laugh when I see the crooked car seat that he is ever so proud of. I simply walk up and adjust it before plopping Ellie in the seat and strap her in. Finally, we can go home.

•

•

After arriving home, we bring Ellie’s bag in to the room that she’ll be sleeping in, I take her down to the kitchen as Evan goes to change into some sleepwear. It’s a bit late, 7:00 pm and the sun’s already set for the night, but we’ve been informed that Ellie hasn’t had supper yet.

“Okay so you want a grilled cheese, we can do that, but you need to have a veggie as well,” I pick up Ellie and set her on the dining chair. She’s expressed that she wants a grilled cheese and only a grilled cheese. She even briefly tried to convince me that she’s allergic to all vegetables. “We have broccoli,” I pull a head of broccoli out of the fridge and set it on the table.

“Yuck!” The small girl rolls her tired eyes.

“Carrots,” I grab a bunch of fresh carrots, placing them in front of her.

“No way!” She shoves them away from her. I huff.

“Or we have green beans,” I reach into the pantry and set a jar of green beans next to the other veggies.

“Aunt y/n, you’re crazy. No thank you to all of them. Just a grilled cheese please,” she says in disgust, reaching for the bag of bread and block of cheese, sliding the ingredients closer to me.

“Ellie-“ I sigh, admittedly losing some patience.

“Oh wow look at all these super veggies that Aunt y/n has laid out for you. You’re lucky, she’s giving you the special ones,” Evan says coming around the corner, now in his pajamas, as he takes a seat next to his niece.

“What do you mean?” She inquires, raising a small eyebrow.

“Oh she didn’t tell you?” He gasps, shifting his gaze to wink at me. I stifle a laugh.

“These carrots,” he pulls the bunch to him. “They give you night vision.” He explains. Ellie considers his claim.

“What about this one,” she hands him the head of broccoli.

“Oh this? It just gives you super speed, no big deal I guess if you don’t want to be the next quicksilver,” he says nonchalantly, tossing the head of broccoli in between his hands. Ellie gasps, her eyes light up.

“I want this one!” She grabs the green veggie and hands it to me. “Please.” She adds, remembering her manners. I laugh.

“Don’t you want to hear about the green beans?” Evens asks, standing up from his seat.

“No thank you. Super speed please!” She crosses her hands on the table, awaiting her superpowers. Evan takes the broccoli from my grasp, turning to grab a cutting board.

“I got it honey, go upstairs and get ready for bed,” he kisses my forehead. I smile and thank him before making my way to our bedroom.

•

•

I change into some comfy pajamas and do my nightly routine of skincare and brushing my teeth before padding down the steps. Before I peak my head around the corner I hear Evan shout,

“One more time… GO!” followed by the quick stomping of tiny feet. I clear the corner to see the furniture pushed out of the way and Ellie hurtling full speed towards me. She runs right into my stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of me.

“Jesus,” I wheeze. Ellie giggles boisterously with a toothless smile.

“I’m sorry Auntie y/n,” she manages to choke out as she falls to the ground in her fit of laughter. I look to my husband with wide eyes, trying to process what happened.

“Hey don’t look at me babe, it was the supper broccoli. Hopefully it will wear off soon,” he says genuinely, putting his hands up in defense. I can’t help but laugh.

I take a moment to admire the sight of my husband standing in his sweatpants and old stained shirt draped loosely on his toned body. His beautiful brown curls that are just a bit overdue for a trim sticking out every which way, yet resting perfectly on his soft features, and his scruff filling in more and more every day that he’s doesn’t shave. The gorgeous man in front of me, smiling from ear to ear with the purest of joy in his chocolate eyes makes my heart sing. He’s truly in his element right now. The elation coming from Ellie and Evan is contagious, I find myself in a fit of laughter as well as Ellie crawls up my legs and onto my back.

“Your turn to race Auntie y/n!” She cheers.

“No, no not tonight honey,” I disappoint her with my response.

“We have to clean up and get you ready for bed,” I walk over to Evan, passing the girl on my back into his grasp. “Which will be Uncle Evans job since he’s the one that wound you up,” I raise my eye brows at him. Ellie happily rests in his arms bridal style, her gummy grin never leaving her face.

“Hey, don’t give me that look,” he begins to walk towards the steps. “You’re the one that gave Ellie speed enhancing veggies,” he reminds me, almost fooling me as well, with how serious his tone and expression are.

I roll my eyes as I turn to put our living room back together.

‘You’d think Evan would know not have a 6 year old run laps around the house half an hour before bedtime.’ I sigh as I push our couch back into place. As irritated as I want to be, I can’t help but feel giddy. Seeing how happy Evan is with Ellie makes my heart swell with joy.  

‘Maybe I will discuss having a baby with him.’ I think to myself as I replace our rug and coffee table back into the center of the room.

‘But having a child isn’t always fun. It’s much different having your own child than babysitting.’ I make note to remind him as I shove our recliner back to its designated spot.

‘And pregnancy can be complicated’ I’ll have to tell him. ‘I hope mine won’t be, but it is something you have to prepare for’ I’ll explain. He’s not the one getting pregnant so I know this may not be something he’ll consider.

I make my way to the kitchen to begin stacking the dishwasher with what little dishes Evan left in the sink before he went to destroying our living room.

‘And what will we do if you get a big job and have to fly halfway across the country while I’m in labor or freshly postpartum?’ I’ll be sure to ask. I begin to make myself nervous considering all my concerns.

‘And what if-‘

“She’s laying down,” Evans comforting voice breaks me from my thoughts. I can hear the smile as he speaks. I don’t even need to look up. “Once I finally convinced her that there is no goblin living in our guest room closet, she crawled right in bed,” his voice gets closer as he moves to wrap his strong arms around my waist, I lean back to rest my head on his shoulder, taking in his familiar scent. I turn to look up at him. I don’t know how his dimples haven’t popped right off his face from how much he’s been smiling this evening.

“Let’s have a baby,” I blurt out, looking into the pure joy glinting in his eyes. The joy turns to shock. He grabs my shoulders, spinning me around so he can search my eyes for any hint of joking. There isn’t any.

“Are you serious y/n?” He asks. The smile now just his jaw dropped to the floor, his eyes wide and his eyebrows raised so high that they’re hidden behind his curls. I chuckle at his reaction, my chest warming at how excited that one sentence has made him.

“Yes,” I simply answer. He matches my smile, pulling me into his chest so tight it almost hurts, but I don’t say anything.

“I want nothing more than that y/n,” he mumbles to the crook of my neck. I wiggle out of his grip enough to meet his gaze, seeing his mahogany eyes glistening. He blinks and a single tear threatens to escape though his long lashes. He reaches a hand up quickly to wipe the happiness attempting to leak from his eye.

“Let’s do it,” I grin. Every doubt, every concern, flying quickly out of my mind. The speech I was going to give him about the dangers and responsibilities of childbearing now long gone after seeing how happy the idea of us having our very own bundle of joy is making Evan.

“I love you so much y/n Peters,” he pulls me into a soft kiss, his lips warm against mine. I reach my hands up to bury my fingers in his curls.

“And I love you Evan Peters,” I smile against his lips. Though this kiss is gentle, but it is easily the most intimate kiss we’ve had. I can feel the adoration with every breath that fans over my face. “I think we should try as soon as Ellie goes home,” I suggest, pulling away from the kiss, resting my forehead on his.

“You wouldn’t reckon my brothers on his way home now, would you?” He jokes as he reaches down to grab my hands. Running his thumbs over my knuckles.

“I’m not even sure they’re out of the state yet Ev,” I smile at my husband. He brings both my hands up to his mouth, kissing each one gently.

“I suppose I can wait,” he sighs. I giggle, grabbing his arm to guide him to our room.

“Let’s check on Ellie one more time, then we can head to bed ourselves,” I whisper as we walk towards the guest room.

“You seriously expect me to be able to sleep, Honey? I feel like a kid on Christmas Eve night,” he flashes his dimples, I roll my eyes and smile at his excitement.

[psithurista]

approach shift - epilogue

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 2.3k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: PIV (protected), sneaky little non-descriptive pegging reference, disGUSting fluff

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

a/n: I'll keep it quick: I'm so sorry this took so long, but I just wasn't quite ready to finish it off haha. It's been two years almost to the day since I started writing this (and they've been fucking crazy years) so it feels very strange saying goodbye to these adorable losers. I once again can't even start to express how happy it's made me seeing your reactions to this fic, and I'm endlessly grateful to everyone who took the time to leave a comment or reach out to say hi. I hope you like this last sweet little snippet! x

series masterlist

SIX MONTHS LATER

“We need to get up,” you say, making no move to do so.

He turns his face from where it’s smushed into the pillow to speak, his eyes still closed. “You first.”

You groan. 

You have no idea what time it is, and your phone is out of reach, but the light through the curtains is blinding like near-noon and Bear’s supposed to be here at 10 to pick you up, so you’re almost definitely cutting it fine.

“Peter.” Your legs are tangled with his, his thigh between yours. He huffs morning breath sleepily into your face in response, reaching a hand out to pat your cheek. 

“Shh.” He shifts, pressing his thigh harder between your legs, skin sticky on skin. You know he’s doing it on purpose; he knows exactly where he’s pressing you. You make a quiet, satisfied noise, then pull away regretfully. 

“Bear’s gonna be here soon and you need to be dressed. She’ll freak if she has to see your ass again.” 

“Mmm. Yeah. I’m up.”

You sit up, and the slow weight of his arm slides off your waist. The bedroom door is open to the living room where you can see the debris left over from your at-home date the night before: the bowl still on the couch with a handful of unpopped kernels still rattling in the bottom, the fairy lights web-stuck across the ceiling still glowing gently and the blown-out candles stuck in pastel wax puddles to the coffee table you’d rescued from the curb a few weeks after moving in together. It’d been unbearably funny watching Peter’s elaborate performance of pretending to struggle under the weight of it on the way back home.

He drags himself out of bed, and you hear the coffee machine gurgling while you start pulling out clothes.

It’s hot and stuffy; the air’s stopped working again sometime in the night, so you screech the window open and prop the broom handle under the frame to keep it there. It’s a precarious solution—more than once, the window’s fallen shut while you’ve been at work, forcing Peter to awkwardly perform a frantic outfit change behind the dumpster in the alley so he doesn’t run the risk of running into one of your neighbours in the elevator. But the rent’s affordable for a pair of research scientists with a dash of supplementary freelance photography cash on the side, and the occasional bags of free food from a grateful shop owner after a thwarted hold-up.

“Should we call about the air?” you wonder out loud through the open door.

 “Don’t worry about it, it’ll be quicker if I just get up on the roof and fix it again myself,” Peter says, his voice stretching out into a yawn halfway through. He appears in the bathroom doorway, still naked, two mugs in his hands. 

You gasp in appreciation as he passes one to you. “God, I love you,” you murmur, taking a sip.

He grins dazedly at you in the mirror, his cheeks flushed. “Is that all it takes, huh? A crappy cup of coffee?”

You turn and slide the mug onto the counter so you can wrap your arms around his waist. “No. You’re cute, too. That helps.”

He kisses you, his thumb and index finger framing your chin. “M’not cute,” he says against your lips, leaning his too-warm body along yours. “M’intimidating as hell. Ask anybody.”

You’d only gotten as far as underwear before he’d interrupted you dressing, and it already feels like there’s far too much in the way between you. “You’re gonna make me late,” you say, reaching down to dig your fingers into the taut swell of his ass. “Gotta get ready.”

“Okay, so keep getting ready,” he says, mouthing at your neck. “You’re the one groping me.”

He’s right; now you’ve started, you can’t seem to stop. You press your hands to the small of his back, drawing him closer. You can feel his cock beginning to harden where his body is pressed against yours, and his tongue comes out to touch at your pulse. He makes a tiny noise in his throat as you slip one hand down between your bodies to wrap loosely around his rapidly-growing erection.

You stroke him once, gently, and he huffs. “I don’t see how this is helping,” he says. 

You hum your response, your resolve melting away as he strokes the back of his knuckles down your spine, making you shiver. “Maybe…” you say.

He ducks his head to kiss first one breast, then the other, your nipples standing hard and sensitive. “Maybe?” he prompts. His fingers brush your hip, coming around to rest just below your navel.

“Maybe, if we’re quick…” you say, biting your lip, pushing your hips upward to try to encourage his hand lower.


“Babe, I can be so quick,” he says, half-groan, half-laughter. He thumbs your labia, spreading you open just a little, so he can touch your clit. “Too quick, even, if you want. Some would say it’s a talent.”

You grin at him, letting go of his cock. “Bed. Now.”

He swings you up into his arms so fast your head spins, practically flinging you onto the bed. 

You sprawl out in front of him, your arms thrown back as he peels your underwear off. “Holy shit,” he says, running his hands down your sides, staring at the expanse of your body. His jaw is slack with longing, and the sight of his adoration never fails to make fresh heat flood your face, even after seeing him staring at you like this so many times.

He kneels down over you, sucking two fingers into his mouth as he does. You hitch your knees up to give him a better angle, and he gently presses a firm thigh between your legs. “How do you wanna…?”

“Condom,” you tell him, running your fingers through his hair, making his eyes roll closed with pleasure. “No mess.”

He holds your lower lip gently between his teeth, and slowly pushes his two slick fingers inside you. You shift your hips up, and he withdraws them both again, using the slip of your arousal to work against your clit. He kneels up a little, so he can palm your breast with his other hand as he bends down to lick the inside of your thighs.

“Oh,” you breathe. His fingers stop circling to push back inside you, just as his tongue works a hot, messy kiss over your clit. You grab handfuls of his hair to try to keep up with the pace he’s setting, but the feeling of your fingers against his scalp only makes him work faster, a weak groan vibrating down through his tongue.

He bends his head lower, so he can lick around where your wetness has started to gather on his knuckles as he keeps pumping leisurely, in and out. It’s so wet you can both hear it, and he works faster, angling his fingers higher, until you’re writhing.

“Peter…come on, please,” you beg, yanking hard at his hair. 

It works to break his concentration, and he scrambles up, leaning down sideways so he can dig around in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. It’s filled with an assorted mix of toys and, stashed further back, Peter’s wrist canisters. The logic had been that anybody who broke into your apartment would be too freaked out by the toys to keep looking in the drawer, but it also meant Peter had to dig through a dizzying array of plugs and lube every time he went out.

You turn your head to the side and see the wistful way he glances at your strap-on, and you click your tongue. “We’re in a hurry, remember? Later.”

“Mmm. I’ll hold you to that,” he says, kissing you again as he rolls the condom smoothly over his cock.

He leans back, propping a pillow under your hips to give himself more leverage. As he sinks inside you, you hold your breath, letting it out slowly.

He groans above you, easing just a millimeter out and then back in, like he can’t help himself. It feels devastatingly good; he’s thick and beautifully hard right against where you need him, and thanks to his mouth, you’re wet enough that you’re ready for him to start moving immediately.  

You hook your ankles together behind his back to pull him in deeper, and he sinks home, fully seated balls-deep inside. You clench your muscles, just to feel as much of him as you can, and he grinds his hips against yours. 

You can feel the tension in his limbs as he draws back and starts to move. You’ll never, ever get sick of how he feels inside you, you think, your mouth open. He’s fucking you so good; his strokes long and firm and perfect.

He cups your ass with his hand to lift your hips even further, shifting the angle once again, and your breath stutters sharply in your throat as the head of his cock catches your g-spot.

“That’s it, right?” he murmurs, his voice wrecked. “Right there? That’s it, babe, c’mon, show me, I wanna see…”

You can’t even respond, your fingers gripping his biceps like his body is your only lifeline. It’s so good, and you’re getting so close, you just need…

“Fuck,” you gasp, high-pitched and panicked as you come, hard and blinding. 

He doesn’t slow down. If anything, he fucks you harder, chasing down his own release as you clench and melt around him. It only takes a few more moments before his cock jerks inside you and he curses, collapsing the hot weight of his body on yours.

You pant together, sweaty and spent. His cheek is crushed to yours, and he turns his face just enough to kiss any part of you he can reach—the top of your shoulder, your forehead, the tip of your ear.

When you manage to drag your eyes open, you find his huge doe-brown eyes already looking at you. “Good?” he whispers, kissing your shoulder again.

You smile at him, feeling drunk and dizzy. “So good,” you tell him.

You’re still wrapped up in each other like idiots when he jolts hard as though startled. You’re confused for about half a second, before the buzzer from downstairs goes off. 

“Oh, shit,” you hiss, scrambling out of bed.

“You get ready,” Peter says, somehow already dragging on a pair of sweatpants. The speed and dexterity with which he’s able to dress never ceases to amaze you. “I’ll stall.”

You’re stepping out of the fastest shower of your life when you hear the squeaky door to your apartment opening.

“Hey, Bear,” Peter’s voice says.

“Hey, Parker. Your shirt’s inside-out,” she says. 

You lean the naked top half of your body around the bathroom door to wave at her. “Hey, sorry, I just got out of the shower. I need like, three minutes to get dressed.”

She clicks her tongue, but doesn’t look overly annoyed as she flops onto the couch. “It’s hot as shit in here,” she says cheerfully, swinging her feet up onto your coffee table. 

You can hear her and Peter chatting as you hurriedly get ready; he asks her about Krista, she asks him about his aunt. Unsurprisingly, Bear and May had hit it off in a huge way at your birthday after May had excitedly demanded to know everything about the play Bear was auditioning for.

You give yourself a quick once-over to make sure you look presentable before you duck out into the living room. Peter and Bear have moved onto once again arguing about music; Peter’s on Blur’s side, Bear’s on Oasis’. 

You give them both a sideways look. “I’m not getting involved in this,” you say, checking to make sure your keys are in your bag. “But I’m just saying, in a real fight, Liam Gallagher would kick Damon Albarn’s ass any day of the week.” Peter grins at you from behind the counter, where he’s attempting to clean the disaster left in the kitchen from dinner last night.

“Oh, my God,” Bear says, looking you up and down. “Why do you look so worked up? Were you guys just fucking? Like right now?”

 Peter can’t turn away fast enough to conceal his snort, and you make a face at her. “It’s called caffeine. Come on, we’ll be late.”

Peter waves at her. “Say hi to Krista.”

“You should come with us, next time you get a night off work,” Bear says, helping herself to a stick of gum from the packet on the bench.

“Bye,” you say, leaning in to wrap your arms around Peter’s waist. “Be careful,” you add quietly, leaning up to kiss him.

He grins. “Always am.” He kisses you back, slow and gentle, before letting you go.

Bear shakes her head. “You guys are so gross. Later, Parker.”

Peter trails you to the door so he can close it behind you. Bear’s a few feet ahead of you, and you don’t mean to linger, but you can’t help but look back one last time as you go.

Peter’s leaning in the door, a dish rag over his shoulder. His hair’s chaotic from where you’d run your fingers through it, and his cheeks are still a little pink with warmth. 

As you watch, his eyes crease at the corners. “Love you,” he mouths, too quiet for Bear to hear. He still has the cutlery in his hands he’d been drying before you walked out; two knives, two forks. 

You can feel your face splitting into a smile you’re sure must be even goofier than his. You hold his gaze, and as Bear drags you away, you’re missing him already.

[pinkhoodi]

pop princess !

✎ᝰ — spider boys with a gf who’s a popstar !

♡⃕ — tasm!peter parker, ffh!peter parker x popstar!fem!reader

♡⃕ — genre + warning: fluff + peter is a major fan girl, mention of anxiety, failure, insecurity. lemme know if i missed anything !

♡⃕ — a/n: this includes andrew garfield and tom holland’s spiderman !

꒰ TASM!PETER PARKER ꒱

Ꮺ at first peter was doubtful of dating a pop star, especially being a simple nobody in his high school. just a boy with his camera but now he’s in front of the camera. don’t get me wrong, peter is more than thrilled to be dating you but he’s dating you. thee famous y/n, everyone’s favorite pop girl, star girl that has little girls dreaming

Ꮺ but also the lights, camera, the attention can be quite overwhelming and he will take a minute to adjust from all this. though, you won't always ask him to attend every event and he doesn’t mind attending attending every event so there

Ꮺ cause of his lowkey nature, you try to keep the relationship discreet. you would rather not have your fans swarm at peter’s door or harass him constantly at school

Ꮺ out in the public, you two would wear some type of covering so paparazzi or fans cannot tell who you both are

Ꮺ he’s try very very very hard to be your supportive boyfriend and attend every concert, every showing, every fan meet, any and everything. but being spiderman, and a high school student, he won’t always be at your hip at all times. If he can’t, he’ll send you a text that he won’t be there and send words of encouragement

Ꮺ during his duties as spiderman, if he’s not too busy, he’ll swing through the city until he reaches the venue of your concert. he’ll take a seating on the roof of it and sing along to your words, it’s not the best view but hey, it beats missing your girlfriend’s concert

Ꮺ on the roof, peter snaps some pictures of your concert and prints them off at home. he’ll hang them up on the wall above his desk, along with the many other cute pictures of just you

Ꮺ strangely enough, when you two are out on the red carpets, reporters ask about your views on spiderman. some even ship you with the masked vigilante and you just laugh it off

Ꮺ when you’re not around, he’ll sing some of your songs but definitely won’t tell you. he knows how much of a tease you can be and jokingly calls him your number one fan. of course, that title he won’t deny

Ꮺ whenever you’re at peter’s home, you play a cd of your unreleased songs or demos. you two would just sit and listen to them in peace or he’ll learn the lyrics to sing along. you always give him a copy of the cd before you go home

Ꮺ of course peter has backstage pass to your concerts so he’s usually chilling there until the show starts. he’s there to compliment your outfits, help you go over your setlist, and of course take many pictures of his beautiful pop princess

Ꮺ when things get overwhelming, you go to his home and just rant. you lay on his bed and just talk until you can’t no more, while peter sits and listens to you rant, he’ll rub your back or the top of your head. he would study how your body fluctuates as you vent, for future reference. he would silence sit in for a while than talk you through what is bothering you. whether it would be the lack of privacy, the expectations from fans, fear of failure, insecurities, etc., peter will advise well on how to handle them all. well, at least most of them

Ꮺ if the both of you are not too busy, you would bring him to your studio and show him your song-making process. it’s a very special and private place for you and why not show your loving, supportive boyfriend ?

Ꮺ he would ask questions here and there but for the rest of the time being, he’s quiet. peter would watch you write the lyrics and create a melody, he would watch you scribble and scratch in your journal as he sat across from you

Ꮺ if you appear to become frustrated, he silently hug you and asks if you want a break. he would take you on a walk, and ask more about the song to help you piece it together. sometimes you guys would stop for food, talk more about the song, and figure out what direction you wanted to go for

Ꮺ though, you don’t always have the energy to talk about songs so you would rather chat about your daily life. peter would update you on aunt may and you would tell him about your latest crazy fan experience

Ꮺ if he doesn’t have any advice, he will tell you words of encouragement. he would tell you how proud he is, how far you came, that you’re in control of who you are and not the public. he would remind you of the real you, the raw, organic y/n that he knows and loves. but also reminds me of how happy you look to be on stage or shooting in magazines as the world’s pop princess

Ꮺ speaking of, every shoot that you do for magazines, best believe peter would have every collection. sometime he’ll try to read it in class and some people speculated that he was a fan girl cause there’s no way that every issue always includes you on the front. that’s odd parker, very odd

꒰ PETER PARKER ꒱

Ꮺ your biggest, BIGGEST fan. he’s got all your merch, your cds, you’re his wallpaper. literally he couldn’t be more proud to the boyfriend of everyone’s pop girl, y/n l/n

Ꮺ peter is singing your songs, loudly and bad, posting your new song on his socials, the whole nine yards. I wouldn’t say he’s staying up to listen to your new song but he does learn the lyrics to impress you

Ꮺ I would say your relationship is discreet but not too lowkey ?? like ned and mj knows about the two of you but also you post peter from time to time. If not, then you two would usually hint about the relationship but not give too much information

Ꮺ on red carpet events, peter is recording you from the first step ‘til you hit inside the venue. he’s complimenting and hyping you up, fixing any small details like a loose lash or a small wrinkle on your dress

Ꮺ as bad of a fangirl he is for you, he might be even worse for other celebrities he meets. listen, he is a teenage boy from queens, did he expect to meet gwen stefani or rihanna ? rihannna ? he’s passed out on the floor at this point. if you see one of his favorite musicians, drag him the other way….

Ꮺ now, not all the time he can attend due to his school and his duties as spiderman. but he is sending words of encouragement to fulfill his presence

Ꮺ peter would be starstruck every time he’s out with you. no he’s still not used to being in your dressing room filled with priceless jewelry, clothes that must cost hundreds, and accessories that are so unique and made just for you to wear. it’s like he’s stepped into a popstar’s bubble and very scared to touch

Ꮺ I feel like peter would refuse to believe he’s dating thee pop girl, y/n. like he knows he’s dating you but has he accepted it? let’s just say he still pinches himself every time you text him, ya know, to make sure he’s not dreaming

Ꮺ whenever you’re at peter’s home, you play a cd of your unreleased songs or demos. you two would just sit and listen to them in peace or he’ll learn the lyrics to sing along. you always give him a copy of the cd before you go home

Ꮺ secretly peter has a playlist of just your songs and only your songs. he wouldn’t allow you to see since he would feel embarrassed but ned and mj are for sure teasing him about it

Ꮺ like the other peter, he would have every single issue of your magazine covers. he doesn’t care if they’re small articles of your latest look, he is reading it !

Ꮺ between class times, he would try to watch clips of your interview and blush over how cute you look. certain questions would have him a tad bit concerned but he knows you can handle it well

Ꮺ throughout the day, peter would ask if you’re doing okay, mentally and physically. he understands how draining it is to be well-known in the public eye, especially in the age of social media. If you say no, he’ll stop by your place and comfort you with what is bothering you. also, please don’t lie to him about how you’re feeling cause his spider senses will tell him

♡⃕ lately I’ve been listening to music from the 2000s and it makes me wish to be a pop girl in the 2000s saurrrrr bad. omg-

♡⃕ it doesn’t help that one of my fave shows was hannah montana. the pop princess FRRRR

♡⃕ ngl, tasm peter was VERYYYYY hannah montana coded. I’m sawry she’s like my pop girl inspo 😞

♡⃕ I felt like I kinda didn’t do my best with tom holland peter parker ngl 😭

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: romans 8:26

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟥 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Under His Protection

Pairing: Andrew!Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: angst, stopping a potential rape, getting slapped, minor fluff at the end

Summary: Your good heart won't let you walk by something when you know something is wrong. That usually means trouble for you, but you can always count on Peter to swoop in and save the day.

Squares Filled: villain/hero for @spider-man-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Shit, you’re going to be so late. Thank God you live right behind the school for this exact reason. Your backyard is right by the school’s football field so you cut across it every single morning and afternoon. Due to being so close, you can sleep in longer than everyone else.

This time, you might have overslept.

You jump over the fence and walk across the empty football field quickly. You think it’s empty until you hear someone over by the bleachers. You walk a bit closer and see it’s one of the most popular jocks, Jake Staton. He’s honestly one of the best players this school has seen in a few years but all you’ve heard is horror stories about him.

He’s arrogant, a terrible lover, and at times, abusive. He thinks so highly of himself and doesn’t treat women right. Ask any one of his ex-girlfriends.

The girl he’s with says something you mistake for a moan but the closer you get, the more you realize she is protesting against Jake.

“No, stop. Get off me,” she begs.

“You know you want it, baby. Don’t fight it,” he smirks and kisses her neck.

“Seriously, stop. I mean it.”

You could keep walking and ignore what you saw but that’s not who you are. You have a reputation for sticking your nose where it doesn't belong.

“Hey, dickwad,” Jake steps back from the girl to glare at you. The girl pushes him off her but he doesn’t move much. “She said no.”

“Fuck off.”

You step closer and put a hand on his shoulder to yank him away from her.

“She said no. You’re the one who should fuck off.”

Suddenly, you feel a stinging sensation on your cheek. You fall to the ground from the impact and stare at Jake in shock. He backhanded you with the hand that has rings on it. The girl sees this chance to run away from him, and he scoffs at not getting some before school. He steps closer to you but you don’t do the smart thing and back away. You’re not going to show him any weakness.

“Get in my way again and it won’t be your face I’m slapping next.”

Once he is gone, you take your hand away from your cheek to see it bleeding. God, this shit hurts. You can’t go to class with a bleeding cheek so you push yourself to your feet and head to the nurse’s office.

“Come on in, honey,” she says when she sees you standing in the doorway. When she sees your cheek, she gasps. “What happened?”

“I tripped and fell.”

She knows you’re lying but she doesn’t press on if it’s going to make you uncomfortable. You sit down on the examination table and allow her to look at you. She takes care of the bleeding which isn’t from a big cut so it’s easily manageable with a bandaid. The only thing that will be prominent is the bruise already starting to form. She grabs an ice pack from the freezer and places it over your cheek.

“Thanks,” you wince and keep it there.

“Stay here. I’m going to grab something to help with the pain.’’

“Okay.”

You’re sitting there for not even five minutes when Peter Parker walks by the nurse’s office. He makes eye contact and keeps walking but stops suddenly when his brain registrars that it’s you. He rushes into the office with an angry look on his face.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” he cusses quietly. You try to keep him away from you but there is no use. He takes off the ice pack to see the darkening bruise underneath. “Who did this to you?”

When he sees your bruise, you can tell a piece of his heart broke through the look in his eyes.

“I’m fine, Peter. It’s nothing,” you sigh.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

You forgot how overprotective he was when you two were dating. He was the perfect boyfriend to you. He’d treat you like you were the only woman in the world, he brought you flowers every time the old ones died, he made you feel safe and loved. You were and still are in love with him.

He was the one who broke up with you. You went to his house for a study session when he dropped the bomb on you. You were heartbroken. Why did he do it? You two were going really good save for a few secrets you knew he was keeping from you.

That’s why he ended things with you. He hasn’t told you that he’s Spider-Man and it was becoming a hindrance keeping that secret from you. He loved you too much to bring you into his mess so he had to end things with you before you got hurt because of him. It hurts him to keep you at such a distance knowing how much he loves you.

“Jake Staton,” you sigh. Keeping it from him is pointless. He would have gotten the answer one way or another. “He was going to rape this girl and I had to stop it. I couldn’t do nothing.”

He loves how caring you are about other people, even people you don’t know. He places the ice pack back on your face and you hold it there so it doesn’t fall. He doesn’t say another word and leaves the nurse’s office.

He doesn’t have to say anything for you to know where he’s going. After the nurse gave you some medicine for the pain, a touch up of your makeup, and one of Peter’s baseball caps that you stole, you were ready for school. You kept your head down for the first half of school so that you didn't have to talk to anyone.

By lunch, you are sitting with your best friends who already know what happened. You’re checking out of the conversation since you don’t feel like talking to anyone when you notice Jake on the far side of the cafeteria. He’s sporting his own bruise on his face with a swollen eye and busted lip.

Your eyes immediately go to Peter who is sitting with Harry and Gwen. He grins when he sees you and winks at you to let you know even if you’re broken up, he still will always protect you. You know you shouldn’t feel this way but your heart skips a beat and your stomach does summersaults at his attention.

x

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[waitimcomingtoo]

hoax ~ p.p

chapter six: deja vu

series masterlist

The next morning, you felt like you were walking on air as you walked onto campus. Hearing Peter promise to love you as long as you wanted him to made you feel whole inside. You knew you didn’t need any man to complete you, but you also knew how special it was to be loved. Your life was feeling more and more like one of those romantic movies you loved and part of you couldn’t help but wonder if things were too good to be true.

“Someone looks happy.” Kate commented when you sat down at the library table.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said with a coy smile.

“Oh my God.” Gwen gasped. “You saw his face, didn’t you? You found out who he is?”

“He wanted to show me. But I said no.” You admitted.

“Excuse me? You said no?” MJ raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t want to disrupt our perfect night. If I saw his face, I’d just be left wondering why he didn’t show me sooner. And then I’d be focusing on that instead of the fact that I’m in the middle of a fairy tale romance with a guy I’ve been crushing on since MJ was still “straight”. Right, MJ?”

“I’m sorry, but when was MJ straight?” Gwen laughed and looked at her.

“Freshman year of high school.” MJ admitted. “I hadn’t figured it all out yet. And we had a very androgynous French teacher that looked good in his jeans.”

“Oh yeah! Mr. Andrews.” You gasped when you remembered. “He was so cute. I don’t even blame you. We all had a crush on him.”

“And now you’re in love with a man in tights. Isn’t it crazy how things work out?” MJ said sarcastically.

“I know you’re teasing me, but you’re actually right. It is crazy how things works out. I can’t believe I’m in love. I honestly never thought that would happen for me.”

“Aw. Why not?” Gwen frowned and rubbed your arm.

“It just didn’t seem in the cards for me that someone would fall in love with me and stay in love me once they really got to know me. No one ever really had crushes on me growing up. That kinda fucks with your head and makes you feel undesirable. So the fact that I’m in a loving relationship with someone I can trust and be myself around without fear of scaring him off is amazing to me. I guess it’s just still hard to believe sometimes.”

“Aw.” Kate gushed. “I’m happy for you, girl. I’m happy you’re in love. And that it’s with a nice, trustworthy man.”

“Those are rare.” MJ agreed. “Even though I’m still pretty firm on my stance that no man is to be trusted. Not even one’s that can shoot webs.”

“I wonder if he can shoot webs out of his butt.” Gwen thought out loud.

“He can’t.” You sighed. “Believe me, I asked. He said he makes his own web fluid so they can only come out of his wrists. No butt webs.”

“I guess that’s kinda a good. I was honestly really worried that he could shoot webs out of his penis. Because what if they grabbed onto your guts and yanked them out of you? Imagine how horrible that would be.”

“That can’t happen.” You laughed. “Oh shit. Wait, can it?”

“You better make sure he can’t shoot webs out of that thing because I do not want your guts all over our dorm room floor. It’s carpet.” MJ reminded you.

Ned and Peter came and joined the table, having no idea what conversation they were walking into. Peter looked at you and felt his heart ache in his chest. After everything you promised each other last night, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you hello and hold you in his arms. He’d never trusted a person more than you and he hated that he had now had to sit across from you and pretend that was some other guy.

“What are you guys talking about?” Ned asked when he noticed the table had gotten quiet.

“The trials and tribulations of Y/n getting her back blown out by Spiderman.” MJ said simply. Peter started choking on his water while you gave MJ a look.

“Great. Now you’ve killed Peter.” You sighed and clapped Peter on the back to help him out. He gave you a weak thumbs up as he wiped away the water that had come out of his nose.

“What kind of trials and tribulations?” Ned asked Peter.

“Wait, why did you look at Peter when you said that?” Gwen wondered and you nodded in agreement.

“Because Peter…” Ned trailed off when he saw Peter motioning for him to stop. Ned sighed and gestured to Peter.

“Why don’t you tell them why I looked at you, Peter?” Ned said pointedly. Peter gulped and looked between you and Ned as he scrambled for something to say. Everyone turned to look at Peter in confusion while Peter blushed all the way to his ears.

“Because I have feelings for you.” He blurted. “And Ned knows so he didn’t want me to hear this conversation.”

“You do?” You asked him.

“Woah. Plot twist. That every single one of us saw coming.” MJ said sarcastically.

“I mean, I guess I kinda had a feeling.” You admitted. “That’s really sweet though, Peter. I’m sorry you’ve had to hear me talk about my boyfriend so much. I wouldn’t have been saying all that stuff if I knew how you felt.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about me.” Peter forced a laugh and waved his hand in dismissal.

“Really, dude? That’s what you’re going with?” Ned said in disappointment.

“Ned. Please. There are things you don’t understand.” Peter whispered to him.

“I think I understand plenty. I gotta go.” Ned sighed and left the table. Peter felt his heart sink as he watched his best friend walk away. Keeping this lie up might end up costing him the two most important people in his life.

“Well that was odd.” MJ noted.

“What’s his damage?” You asked Peter.

“Maybes he’s in love with Peter so Peter confessing his love for Y/n was too much for him to bear.” Kate shrugged.

“Or maybe he’s in love with Spiderman and was he was devastated to hear that Y/n stole both his men.” MJ added.

“Stop it guys. This is serious. Do you think I should ask my boyfriend if it’s possible that he could accidentally pull my guts out with his penis webs?” You genuinely asked your friends. Peter burst out laughing when he heard this in a way no one at the table was expecting.

“Woah, Peter. I’ve never heard you laugh like that.” You smiled at him in surprise.

“Sorry. It just caught me off guard.” Peter said sheepishly.

“Hm.” You faked a smile as your mind began to wander. Peters laugh sounded so familiar that it gave you a sense of deja vu. Even the way he threw his head back when he laughed was familiar to you, despite the fact you’d never heard Peter laugh like that before. He noticed you staring at him curiously and gulped. When you looked into Peters eyes, something you didn’t normally do, you felt something stir inside you.

“You have really nice eyes, Peter. I never noticed that.” You said to him with a look on your face that Peter couldn’t quite read.

“Wild thing to say to a friend who just confessed their feelings for you.” MJ mumbled.

“Oh, uh, thanks. They’re just brown.” He shrugged and stopped making eye contact with you.

“They’re a real nice shade of brown, though. Very pretty.” You continued as you titled your head to the side. You felt like you had seen those eyes before, and not just from being in the same friend group as Peter.

“Um, what’s happening?” MJ laughed uncomfortably. “Are you trying to get Peter to join you and Spidey in a throuple?”

“No. I just never noticed his eyes, okay?” You shrugged and stopped staring at Peter. Peter relaxed when you stopped interrogating him, but you weren’t done yet.

“So are you dating anyone, Peter?” You asked him, making him freeze.

“Yes, actually. I have a girlfriend.” He answered honestly. He needed to get through this conversation with as many honest answers as possible if he wanted to keep you as a girlfriend.

“Wait, really? Since when?” Kate asked.

“A few months ago.” Peter replied, still being honest.

“And you never said anything?”

“You never asked.” Peter shrugged.

“He’s right.” Gwen realized. “Sorry, Pete. She’s a lucky lady.”

“Not really. I’m not that great.” Peter sighed, still telling the truth. He was keeping things from you, and that made him less than a good person.

“Aw. Don’t say that.” You pouted. “I’m sure she’s very lucky to have you.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.” He said sincerely.

“No problem. And I mean that. Don’t doubt yourself and get all insecure. That’s never good in a relationship. You’re cute, smart, funny, and very surprising at times. Don’t start doubting what you have to offer. Because you’re a great guy.”

“Wait, you really think all those things about me?” Peter asked in surprise. He knew you felt all those things and then-some about Spiderman, but he didn’t think you ever even noticed him as Peter.

“Of course I do.” You said simply. Peter smiled and nodded his head, feeling more confident in telling you the truth now.

“Thanks. I didn’t realize you thought I was cute.” Peter said as he stared at your from across the table.

“Is cute all you got out of that? I said a lot of other things too.” You said with a coy smile.

“I know. But that one stood out.” He mumbled shyly and looked down at his lap.

“Woah. Sparks are flying. Throuple is growing imminent.” MJ snorted and you kicked her under the table.

“You’re totally cute.” You insisted. “I happen to love brown eyed boys. And the whole curly hair thing mixed with your soft preppy style is so in right now. I’m actually not surprised at all that you have a secret girlfriend.”

“Oh great.” MJ groaned. “Y/n fell in love and now she’s giving out compliments like she’s Mother freaking Theresa.”

“Me next. I want compliments.” Gwen sat up and clapped her hands. Peter tuned out the praises you showered Gwen with and sat deep in thought. Hearing you say you found him attractive meant there really was no excuse this time. Tonight, you were seeing his face no matter what.

After study hall, you waited outside Gwen’s locker while she put her books away so that you could walk to your next class together.

“Tonight’s definitely the night. I’m gonna find out who he is.” You decided.

“What if he says he’s still not ready?” Gwen asked as she shut her locker.

“He doesn’t have a choice anymore. I deserve to know. And if he still can’t trust me after all this time, he’s gonna have to find a new girlfriend.” You decided. Gwen smiled and wrapped an arm around you.

“Good for you, girlie. We can practice how you’re gonna ask him instead of listening in class.”

“You get me.” You chuckled and followed her into your next class.

That night, you had every intention of asked Peter and he had every intention of telling you. But both your plans were sidetracked when Peter had to postpone coming over to deal with an armed robbery at a bank. The robbers ended up being three times Peters size and wearing something Peter had never encountered before, brass knuckles. He got beaten up pretty badly but still managed to swing over to your parents place where you agreed to meet. He was too weak to use his hands so he knocked on your window with his forehead. You excitedly threw the window open but your smile immediately dropped when you saw the state Peter was in. He stumbled through your window and slumped into your chair.

“Oh my God. What happened to you?” You asked as you went to get your first aid kit. He pulled his mask up over his nose to gasp for air before hanging his head and starting to drift off.

“Me? You should see the other guy?” He smiled weakly and started nodding off again.

“Oh God. Don’t smile. Your really cute smile is full of blood.” You laughed and started to clean up the blood around his nose and mouth. His head was flopping around like a dead fish and you knew you didn’t have long before he passed out from the pain.

“You think I’m cute?” He teased you as you pressed the button on his suit to take it off.

“I do. Even with this busted lip.” You humored him as you cleaned the wounds on his chest and arms.

“It doesn’t even hurt that badly.” He slurred and lazily waved his hand before wincing from the pain of the hydrogen peroxide you were using.

“Sorry, baby. I meant to warn you. It’s gonna sting.” You apologized and kissed his knuckles.

“Oh God. Your knuckles look awful. Did you at least win the fight?” You asked and started to clean his bloody knuckles.

“Psh. Always.”

“The police had to pull them off of you before they could kill you, didn’t they?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m not even entirely sure I’m not dead right now.” He answered honestly.

“You’re not.” You chuckled. “You’re with me. I’m gonna take care of you, okay? Don’t you worry.”

“You’re so good to me. I love you so much, Y/n.” Peter said as he head slumped backwards.

“I love you too…” You said and trailed off when you realized you didn’t know his name and therefore couldn’t use it to tell him you loved him.

“It’s Peter. Peter Parker. From school.” He slurred, but you didn’t make out a word of it.

“What? I can’t understand you. I need to rinse your mouth out.” You said and poured some water into his mouth to rinse out the blood. After Peter spit, you could understand him better.

“I should’ve just told you right away. Ned was right.” He said apologetically as he cupped your face.

“Told me what? Did you say Ned? Like my friend?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie to you. I just wanted you to like me.” Peter started to cry as his head slumped back onto his shoulder.

“Like you? What are you talking about? I love you.”

“I know. But I’m scared you won’t anymore after…” Peter trailed off as he finally lost consciousness from the pain.

“After what?” You asked desperately. You tried to shake him away but he was out cold. Your disappointment returned as you realized you’d missed your window to ask him about his identity. As you stared at him, you felt tempted to just rip the rest of his mask off and finally see the rest of his face. It would be so easy to just reach over and pull it off, then all your questions would be answered. He’d never even have to know. You reached out and and touched the wend of his mask, about to pull it off when you stopped yourself. You withdrew your hands and sighed. It wasn’t right to do it when he wasn’t awake. Especially not after everything you said about it needing its own special moment. So instead, you held back some tears and fixed up his wounds before carefully moving him into your bed. You crawled in bed beside him and held him until you fell asleep.

When Peter woke up the next morning, his suit was on your bedroom floor but his mask was still on. He sighed in relief and felt around the bed for you, but you were gone. In your place was a little note with your handwriting.

“Had to go to class. Sorry I couldn’t be there when you woke up! Call me when you’re awake. Love you <3” You had written. You didn’t know that Peter had the same class, which he slept through by now. He noticed you had redressed his wounds and left him a cup of water with some ibuprofen beside it before you had left. He smiled at the gesture, then felt his guilt return. He was supposed to tell you everything last night but instead became your patient. He downed the water, threw his suit back on, and swung home so he could make it to his next class. He didn’t see you until study hall that day, and rushed to sit down when he saw you in the library. He put his hand on your shoulder and felt you relax under it before putting your hand on top of his. You looked up smiling but your face dropped when you realized it was Peter touching you. Peter then realized that he shouldn’t be touching you because you had no idea he was your boyfriend and yanked his hand away.

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else.” He quickly lied and sat beside you.

“It’s okay. I thought the same thing.” You laughed awkwardly. His touch had felt just like your boyfriends, but that felt weird to say. Peter suddenly felt eyes on him and looked up to see that you were staring at him like he had ten heads. Peter felt a panic grow in his chest and turned to you.

“Is everything okay?”

“What happened to your lip?” You asked him, making his blood run cold. He touched his busted lip, the one he had completely forgotten about, and forced a smile.

“Oh, nothing.” He said and turned away from you. You couldn’t stop staring at the cut on his lip. It was shaped like a “c” and on the bottom left of his mouth, the same place your boyfriends was last night. Peters busted lip looked much more healed then the one you had cleaned last night, but it was still bizarre to you that you were seeing your second busted lip in the past 24 hours.

“That’s a pretty bad nothing.” You said as you continued to access Peter. He was in long sleeves, despite the hot weather, and had another cut just above his eyebrow.

“I tripped and bit my lip.” He lied. “Hey, do you have the notes from class this morning? I wasn’t there.”

“Yeah, sure.” You handed him your notes without breaking eye contact. You had a feeling he was trying to change the subject, making you want to stay on topic all that much more. When he took your notes from you, you saw that his knuckles were completely busted.

“You busted your knuckles too?” You gasped and looked into his eyes.

“It was a bad fall.” He said quickly and hid his hands as soon as possible.

“Hm.” You hummed and nodded your head, but you didn’t believe a word. The rest of your friends soon joined you but you did not contribute much to the conversation. You were too busy thinking about the magnet on Spider-Man’s fridge for your college and how he never mentioned that he or someone he knew went there. Or how his parents died the same way Peters did, and at the same age. Or how he never texted you back during school hours. Or how he took you on specific dates that you dreamed of going on but never told him about. Or how looking into his eyes for the first time didn’t feel like it was the first time.

You looked over at Peter and watched his curly brown hair fall into his eyes as he laughed at something Ned was saying. You knew that laugh. It all started it feel like too much to be a coincidence. You got up from table and left without saying a word. Everyone was confused and debated who should go after you, but Peter convinced them to give you space. He had seen the look on your face when you saw his busted knuckles and he knew you were off somewhere, connecting dots. He tried not to panic and anxiously waited for study hall to end so he could change into his suit and walk you home. He’d tell you right away, before you had a chance to figure it out.

As he was throwing his books into his locker after study hall had ended, Peter’s phone rang and he picked it up.

“Hello?” He asked as he shut his locker and went to bolt out of school to see you.

“So it’s true?” Your heartbroken voice sounded in Peters ears. But your voice wasn’t just coming through his phone.

It was coming from behind him.

Peter slowly turned around and saw you standing there with your phone pressed to your ear. Tears were streaming down your face but you never broke eye contact. Peter hung up the phone and reached for you, but you pulled away.

“How could you?” You whispered.

“Wait, please. I can explain.”

🖤🕸️🖤

Tag List 🏷️

@miwagila @gidgett11037 @hoetel-manager @deffnotnia @uncle-eggy

@freakofmusic25 @loveleesthings @katerinaval @tom-hollands-wifey

@helen-on-earth @amberpanda99

[timeless-fanfic]

Hi! I have an idea for a mini series if you’re open to it.

I want it to be a romantic Andrew X reader fic but where the 12 all experience something crazy and wake up in modern day 21st century together. Andrew meets an American girl and doesn’t plan on it but starts to fall for her

Out of Time: Chapter 1

Word Count: 1302

Andrew x Reader

Note: The plan is roughly 20 chapters but we will see how that goes when we get there...

The sound hit him first. It was unlike anything Andrew had ever heard. The hum and buzz of countless voices filled the air, layered with strange beeping, hissing, and an odd mechanical hum that seemed to come from every direction. He blinked rapidly, his mind struggling to catch up with what his eyes were seeing.

This wasn’t Galilee.

His brothers, the other disciples, stood around him in various states of confusion. Peter was scanning the area, eyes narrowed in suspicion, his hand reaching instinctively for his sword that was no longer there. James and John flanked him, their faces set in the same confusion that Andrew felt, though John’s eyes sparkled with a bit more curiosity than panic.

They were in the middle of a city. A massive, sprawling city, far larger than any place Andrew had ever seen. Tall buildings of glass and steel rose into the sky, reflecting the sunlight and towering over them like mountains. Carriages—or something like them—zoomed by on wide streets, faster than any horse he had ever seen. People walked past them in hurried strides, dressed in strange, colorful clothes, with odd devices in their hands, staring down at them as if their lives depended on it.

Andrew reached for Peter’s arm, needing some sort of anchor. “Where are we?” he whispered, though the question seemed impossible to answer.

“I don’t know,” Peter muttered, his eyes never leaving the crowd. “But stay close. I don’t trust any of this.”

Andrew glanced at the others. Matthew stood rigid, his eyes wide as they darted from one strange thing to the next, taking in every detail with the intensity of a scribe at work. Simon the Zealot stood apart, his muscles coiled, ready to strike at any threat. Thaddeus and Bartholomew exchanged nervous glances, while Philip seemed lost in thought, muttering a prayer under his breath.

John finally broke the silence. “We’re not in Judea anymore, that’s for sure.”

“Is this... Rome?” James asked, though even he didn’t seem to believe it.

Before anyone could respond, a group of teenagers passed by, laughing and chatting loudly. One of them pointed at the disciples, shaking his head as if they were an odd sight. “Tourists,” he muttered, and the others laughed before continuing down the street.

“Tourists?” Peter repeated, furrowing his brow. “What does that even mean?”

Andrew barely registered the comment. His attention was drawn to something else—a massive, glowing sign hanging from one of the nearby buildings. He couldn’t read the words, but the sheer size of it, and the fact that it lit up without the use of fire, was unnerving.

His heart pounded in his chest. How had they gotten here? Was this some kind of test? A vision? Was the Lord showing them something?

“Excuse me, are you all okay?”

The voice that broke through his thoughts was soft, gentle. Andrew turned and found himself staring into the kindest pair of eyes he had ever seen. A young woman stood before them, her expression concerned as she looked over the group. She wasn’t dressed like the other people around them—her clothes were simple, practical, yet there was something about her that put him at ease immediately.

Peter stepped forward, instinctively putting himself between the group and the stranger. “We’re fine,” he said, though the tension in his voice made it clear that was a lie.

The woman raised an eyebrow but didn’t press the issue. “You just looked a little lost. Are you from out of town?”

“Out of time, more like,” John muttered, earning a sharp look from Peter.

Andrew found his voice before Peter could respond. “We’re... we don’t know where we are,” he admitted, unable to hide the confusion in his voice.

The woman smiled, though it was tinged with sympathy. “You’re in Chicago,” she said. “Downtown, to be exact.”

“Chicago?” Thaddeus echoed, frowning. “Is that near Jerusalem?”

At that, the woman blinked, clearly taken aback by the question. She studied them for a moment, as if trying to figure out whether they were serious or not. Andrew braced himself for her to laugh or walk away, but instead, she tilted her head, as if piecing together a puzzle.

“Are you... tourists from some kind of historical reenactment?” she asked, her tone cautious but still friendly.

Andrew exchanged a glance with Peter. None of them had any idea what she was talking about.

“Look, you seem a bit overwhelmed,” she continued, glancing between them. “I can help if you want. There’s a café nearby where you can sit down and get your bearings.”

Peter opened his mouth to refuse, but Andrew stepped forward, surprising himself with the sudden burst of courage. “That would be helpful. Thank you.”

The woman nodded, and before Andrew could second-guess his decision, she began leading them through the busy streets. The noise and chaos were overwhelming, but Andrew stayed focused on the woman’s steady figure ahead of them. Somehow, her presence grounded him.

They arrived at the café, a small, cozy place tucked between two towering buildings. The disciples entered cautiously, unsure of what to make of the odd, modern décor and the unfamiliar smell of brewing coffee. Andrew, still dazed, glanced around in awe at the strange contraptions behind the counter. People sat at small tables, talking, laughing, and staring at those little glowing devices in their hands.

The woman pointed to a machine against the wall. “If you’re thirsty, you can use the vending machine over there. Just put in some money, and it’ll give you a drink.”

Andrew stared at the machine, completely bewildered. “Money?” he asked, pulling a few ancient coins from his pouch.

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Not those kind of coins. Here, I’ll show you.”

Andrew watched as she pulled out a small, rectangular piece of paper from her pocket. She inserted it into a slot in the machine, pressed a few buttons, and moments later, a cold drink fell into a compartment below.

Andrew’s eyes widened in astonishment. “It... it just gives you the drink?”

The woman smiled, handing the bottle to him. “Pretty much.”

He turned the bottle over in his hands, studying it as if it were some kind of magical artifact. It was cold, colder than any drink he had ever held, and the strange material it was made of was unlike anything from his time.

“How does it work?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine wonder.

She shrugged, still smiling. “Honestly, I have no idea. But it’s handy, right?”

Andrew nodded, too stunned to say anything else. He took a sip of the drink, and the cool, fizzy liquid hit his throat, making him cough slightly. The woman laughed, and Andrew found himself laughing too, despite the surreal situation.

For a brief moment, everything else faded away—the confusion, the fear, the overwhelming noise of the city. In that instant, there was just him and her, sharing a quiet moment in the midst of the chaos.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his gaze lingering on her for just a second longer than necessary.

She smiled again, and this time it reached her eyes, warm and genuine. “No problem. I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

“Andrew,” he replied, his heart doing a strange little flutter at the sound of her name.

“Well, Andrew,” she said, her voice teasing but kind, “let’s get you and your friends settled. I have a feeling this is going to be a long day.”

Andrew nodded, feeling a sense of calm wash over him. Maybe they were out of time, maybe this world was more foreign than he could have ever imagined, but somehow, with her by their side, it didn’t seem quite so terrifying.

[dailyreverie]

My beautiful, my wonderful, my amazing Jul🥰

I’m so happy you’re getting back to writing again! 🥰

Please may I request:

75: standing on your tippy toes, frustrated you can't reach your lover's lips

With Andrew’s Spidey please ☺️🕷️ tall boyfriend & short girlfriend cliche coming in hot 🥺🥺

Friendly

A/N: Li!!! Surprise, I'm your secret santa! MERRY BELATED CHRISTMAS!!! (and sorry I was so late!) This was a whole journey since I really wanted to gift you some enemies to lovers and I've actually never done that before lol if you only knew how many plots and characters went through, and then you requested this and I was finally illuminated my the gods (aka Andrew Garfield mostly). I really really hope you like it! Also, thanks to my lovely wife @nadja-antipaxos for being an amazing beta!!

Pairing: tasm!Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 1.4 k

Could you call Peter Parker your enemy, when all he does is make your heart feel like it was going to come out of your chest with pure rage? Yes, yes you can. Peter Parker is your sworn enemy ever since he stepped into your class all those semesters ago and decided to take your spot as the top student.

He outsmarts you, every single time, in every class, and every chance he gets; you even have come to the conclusion that he’s only waiting for you to let him show how much better than you he is, the tiniest opportunity to hold on to make it about himself. Everything is a competition when it comes to your rivalry with Peter. You are sure your whole class hates you both by now since you both end up in debates in every class trying to beat the other one round after round of fact-dropping.

And yet he’s so nice, so flawlessly and naturally nice. Always sending you a smile and a wave when you cross each other in the halls, with his perfectly messed-up hair, his soft shirts, and his always sleepy brown eyes. You loathe him.

It's only natural that you would end up being stuck on a project together, working on it forcing you to spend a whole afternoon together as you try and decide whose idea to use; which book to use, what font color, which argument was better, anything and everything ending in at least 10 minutes of going back and forth.

It is when you are on minute 12 deciding whether to use the book you want or the website he found for your research, going back and forth when you get tired of it. You can’t stand it anymore. “Choose whatever you want then, I’m done.” You stand up from the table, grab your bag, and walking away. 

“Oh, come on! Where are you going?”

“To the roof.” You admit with your back already to him, as if going to the roof was nothing, just as it was for him. 

Peter sees you go with just a chuckle. “Have fun!” He says when your back is all he sees on the distant horizon. Because you won't take long, right? You only needed some fresh air, he guesses.

But minutes go by and you don’t come down, minutes that turn into almost an hour, and with that, the cold winter evening starts to roll around all while your jacket is hanging on the back of your chair. Peter hates to admit it, but his leg keeps bouncing faster with every minute that goes by and you don’t come back. Could you still be up there on the roof? Were you really five floors high sitting there all by yourself?

You were ridiculous, storming out like that. Yes, ridiculous, and Peter has to remind himself that, because suddenly the idea of you out there, up there, completely alone on a New York City rooftop fills his body with a hollow feeling.

He mumbles a curse after a couple more minutes when his hands were already tugging at his hair. Damn you, spidey sense. He storms off, jacket in hand and feet almost sprinting through every floor he goes up.

Quiet meets him when he reaches the roof, and indeed, there you are leaning against the bricks of the roof wall that overlook the city. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” You mumble curling further into yourself when you see him, rolling your eyes when you meet his. “Go away, Peter.”

“See, the thing is I can’t.” With long steps he joins you, standing next to you with his gaze looking straight forward, stretching his hand to give you your jacket. “I can’t let you be by yourself on a roof, there are crazy people here.”

“You don’t have to do it.” You accept the jacket, though, crossing your arms across your chest once you have it on and leaning against the fence again.

“I kind of do, it’s my job as your friendly neighbor.” You try to guess what he means by that just by looking at him. Peter only shrugs, a guilty smile on his face. “It’s my fault you are here. I may be trying to beat you in class but I’m not gonna let someone push you from up here, doesn’t seem like a fair win.”

His sarcasm is loud and clear, and it makes you both chuckle. “Ah, so you didn’t come to do that yourself?”

“Okay, why is it always like this?” The change of mood in his voice startles you, his usual calm demeanor nowhere to be seen. “What did I do to make you hate me so much?”

“Because you get on my nerves, Peter! You always have to be the smarter one, and the one with the final word. Every time I say something it’s like I don’t even matter as soon as you open your mouth!”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t-”

“I’m not done.” You swallow. “I’ve been trying so hard to keep myself casual about it, because there have been so many times where I know I’m right, and that you have to know it too, yet you keep going on and on and I get mad and it really, really makes me hate you so much.”

You breathe once you are done, your eyes almost shining with tears with all the frustration finally out of your system. But when you look him in the eyes, soft and brown and without an ounce of threat in them again, genuinely listening to you with the slightest hint of an amused smile in them. Then, you are reminded of the latest truth: ”but you keep making it really hard to hate you.”

Facing each other now, you have to take a deep breath to regain your composure. Peter stays quiet, his face unmoving with the same smile showing through his eyes. “What?” You find yourself asking, trying to read him, but he only smiles. Right, that’s why you hated him.

“Nothing, it’s nothing, I just-” His head does a little wobble and his eyes finally move away from yours, a small laugh escaping through his lips when words fail him. “It’s ridiculous.” 

“I’m ridiculous?” Your eyebrows shot up your forehead, waiting for him to explain.

“No! I am, this is! I never- ughh!” He grabs your shoulders, maybe to ground himself after his nonsense ramble, maybe to feel you. You try not to give it too much thought, since his touch alone is sending electricity through your veins, you don’t need to add an explanation on top of that. “I never planned on you to hate me, that was not what that was for. I was doing all that because you… you are so smart and so clever and witty and… and I thought maybe if I answer to what you say then maybe you would think I was smart too.” 

“Oh,” there’s a bit of doubt in your voice, a strain that tells him that his plan was not precisely working. 

“I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”

“You are forgiven.” You smirk, and with that, you both relax. “When did it turn into a competition then? Because it certainly did.”

“When I saw you smile every time you won.” Peter huffs a laugh and shrugs as if confessing that to you was an obvious statement, not something that would turn your stomach upside down with butterflies fluttering all over your chest. “You have a very nice smile.”

You take a step towards him, standing almost chest to chest, so close that you can see his throat bobbing as he licks his lips. Your body seems to move without you commanding it to do so, lifting your heels from the ground to try and reach him, any part of him. He sees that, and all he does about it is smile.

“Damn you, Parker,” is all you are able to say before you are standing on your tiptoes and being pulled towards him, with his hands holding your back to help you keep your balance as he kisses you, dipping down to find your lips in the middle. Your hands grab onto his neck, for support and to feel him closer, to be able to hold onto something while your lips move so in sync with each other. 

Whatever competition you had with each other is forgotten, and it’s like all that fighting made him know you better since he knows exactly where to move his hands, when to deepen the kiss, when to squeeze you closer to him, keeping you wanting more of him even after only minutes of knowing what kissing him was like.

So, could you call Peter Parker your enemy, when all he does is make your heart beat so fast? No, maybe you could not, as it turns out it was not rage, you were just in love.

🕸️✨🕸️✨🕸️✨🕸️✨🕸️✨🕸️✨🕸️✨🕸️✨🕸️✨

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

[indecisivemuch]

Time wasn't in our favor - Part 4 (Sad Ending)

Pairing: TASM Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield) x Female!Reader

Summary: What if...your soulmate is from another universe but you didn't know? Soulmate AU. Set during NWH, fluff.

Word count: 3k

Series Masterlist: Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Happy Ending, Sad Ending.

The first thing Peter Parker did after he returned to his universe was swing back to his apartment. He needed the confirmation despite his heart already giving indications of the truth. Ignoring the injuries that he was sporting after the multiversal battle, Peter checked his soul mark. A shaky chuckle echoed as he saw the mark identical to Y/N’s.

His tattoo indeed changed after meeting her. They were red - a color Peter never thought his tattoo would ever be in again. Peter shook his head as his brain started racking up ideas on how to see her again. While changing out of his Spider-man suit, an item fell out and onto the ground. They were the photos he took with Y/N from the photo booth.

Peter quickly threw on a hoodie before picking the photo up. His hands ever so lightly held the item, as if afraid he would ruin it. But as of that moment, it was the only thing left of her that he had - excluding the tattoo, of course. He settled down onto his bed, eyes never leaving the item. He traced every inch of her face, clinging to every detail the little paper would convey. He finally had time to breathe, instead of getting tangled into the rush of saving the day. It was only now that he got to memorize every inch of her face, something he, unfortunately, could not do before leaving the second chance he got at a soulmate.

Suddenly, the sound of his front door unlocking caused Peter’s senses to perk up. The hero immediately listened for more signs of danger. He set the photos on his desk before inching towards the bedroom door. His hands gripped the knob as he heard the sound of a sigh, some things being dropped before footsteps sounded. With determination, Peter stormed out of his room and prepared to attack the stranger.

“Oh my gosh, Peter, you scared me,” the voice yelled right after yelping. The person started soothing their heart by rubbing their hand above where their heart would be. 

Meanwhile, Peter froze in disbelief.

“...Gwen?” his voice broke while calling out to his first love.

“Yeah...who else?” she jested, giving him that familiar grin that he once wished to cherish more often than before. But now, he had the chance to see it again. “Oh my gosh, what happened to you?” she asked upon noticing the dried blood on him, inching closer and putting both her hands on his face. 

“I-I’m not sure,” the boy muttered, lost in the thought of her and what was happening.

“Must be quite a bad guy, huh? For them to be able to do this? I do trust that you kept your promise to be careful though,” Gwen caressed his face, lightly tracing it as if scared that she would hurt him.

“H-how did you get in?” Peter asked, finally realizing that he always locked his front every time he got home.

“...What do you mean?” she asked, looking at him as if he had lost his mind. All that came back at her was a genuinely confused face. “Peter...I have a key?” It was a statement that came out as a question. “I...I live here with you? We’re married?” Again, Gwen was met with no replies. “Babe, this is our home,” she continued.

Home? Why does home sound so wrong? He could not help but wonder as the words spilled out of her mouth.

“Did they hit you that hard? The bad guys? Are you...do you have an amnesia?” Gwen touched his forehead at this. 

“No, I-” he stopped himself, staring at his supposed wife in disbelief. 

How did this happen?

“Don’t worry about me,” Peter finally settled on saying.

“Yeah, well, it’s included in the vows so I can’t really opt out on that. ‘Through sickness and in health’, remember?” Gwen smiled, finally removing her scarf and discarding it on their sofa. “Well, how about I make dinner tonight, you’d like that?” she asked, even though her mind had already settled on the idea. Gwen proceeded to wrap her arms around her husband’s neck, grinning up at him like a kid on Christmas day.

“Yeah, I-I’d like that.”

“Good, now, go shower. You stink,” she confessed, offering him another one of those gorgeous smiles before walking into the kitchen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He saw his ring on the sink when he walked into the bathroom.

Marriage was definitely something Peter had wanted his whole life. However, he could not help but be scared at the thought of knowing he was in one right that second. He was already unsettled from the fact that Gwen’s stuff was already in the bedroom when he returned but he was so engulfed in post-battle and thoughts of Y/N that he did not notice.

Y/N.

Peter looked down at his tattoo. It was still identical to the one on the wrist of the girl he had met a day ago. The color was still bright red. Peter could not tell how he should feel about Gwen no longer being his soulmate. Seeing her again right after finally healing that one wound he never thought would stop hurting made it worse. Either way, he has to face this.

Exiting the bedroom, Peter found Gwen swaying to the music playing on their speaker.

“I bumped into one of my old classmates from Oxford and had a quick catch-up. I just can’t believe how long ago it has be-” Gwen immediately let out a chuckle as she heard the next song come on. “It’s our wedding song. Dance with me, Peter, please?” she asked, tugging at his hand.

“Won’t the food burn?”

“It’ll be quick,” she pulled Peter out of the kitchen and into their living room, where her hands found themselves around his neck as the two started swaying to the song that apparently signified so much to them. However, to him, it was the first time Peter heard that song. It hurt him so much to know that he somehow unintentionally missed out the last few years of their relationship. He knew that it was somewhat selfish cause he should feel grateful to have her back, but half of his thoughts were purely about Y/N.

Before he knew it, the song was over. Gwen lifted her head from his chest and looked into his eyes. She inched on her toes and gave him a quick peck on the lips. 

“I love you,” she said after breaking away from the kiss.

“I love you too,” why was it so damn easy for those words to slip out of him.

Maybe this is a sign from the universe. It gave her back to him.

Next thing he knew, Peter was bending over as he groaned. His left hand immediately clung around his wrist, where his tattoo would be. It felt almost numbing, yet the burning sensation made Peter want to collapse on his knees. Without even looking at Gwen, Peter stormed into the bedroom and locked the door.

“Peter? Are you okay?” he heard her from inside the bedroom, but dismissed it as he rolled his sleeves up to look at the source of his pain. 

There it was. His skin was swelling and morphing into something new as the previous red mark blistered and scarred. Peter gasped for air as the pain seemed to amplify while his heart rate tripled. He looked away from the tattoo as he hid his face in the pillow, letting out a muffled scream over the agony.

Then just like that, the pain abruptly stopped and all Peter was left with was a hazing feeling. He weakly lifted his head up in disbelief over the experience. Almost immediately, his eyes landed on the wrist and almost dry chuckled at the situation.

There it was, a red soul mark. Except this one matched with Gwen instead of Y/N. However, he could briefly see a scar underneath that resembled what was his second chance. 

Sitting up, Peter blinked wildly as he tried to comprehend what was happening. He approached the desk and saw the photo booth photo again. The boy picked it up and stared at the item in confusion before hearing Gwen call out again.

“Peter, please let me in. I’m worried about you.”

He turned towards the bedroom door before his eyes took in the sight of what used to be his bedroom. It was now his and Gwen’s bedroom. There were photos of them hung everywhere. His stuff was intertwined with hers. Every little thing here resembled a life that he somehow missed. Everything in this room was what he had always dreamed of. His happy ending was right here, but why does it feel so wrong to have it?

“No...” Peter muttered as he tried to have an internal conversation with himself. A part of him tried to convince his mind that perhaps he deserved this and the hesitation would go away once he settled into this life. After all, this was what he had wished for for so long. 

Maybe it was time to just take things for granted. Perhaps this was life giving him a true second chance. What is to say that he will ever see Y/N again anyway? His heart ached at that, but Peter ignored it as he tried to sway the thoughts away. He looked back at the photo in his hand. 

Maybe...the ‘this feels wrong’ feeling will disappear...if he lets the memories go.

With that, he dropped the photo out of the window, letting the wind take his what-ifs away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Come back in two hours, yeah?” though his voice made the question come out as more of a command than anything. But the girl knew it was all with good intentions, so she nodded and watched as the man closed the magic portal.

Y/N was here on a mission: find Peter Parker - the one that belonged to her, and…possibly stay here and run from Doctor Strange if he tries to take her back to her universe. Though now that she is in his world, she felt almost foolish to come here without a plan to actually find her Peter. So here she was, standing in an alleyway, clueless and lost. Neither does she know how to find him either.

“Life, please give me a sign on where to find him...” she groaned as she muttered to herself. The girl covered her face as she brainstormed on ways to find Peter. That was when something light hit her head, which made her uncover her eyes and look at the object. Her mouth fell agape as she recognized what had landed on her a second ago. Y/N picked up what was metaphorically “a sign” for her, It was the photo she took with Peter in the photo booth. However, the girl scrunched her eyes as she realized this was not her copy, but Peter’s.

Y/N looked up into the sky before averting to the building next to the alleyway. She then saw the light turning on in one of the rooms. In a slight cliche way, a lightbulb almost went off in her head as she deduced the situation. Perhaps Peter lived in this building and left his window open, and somehow the photo fell out and reached her. Even though Y/N knew it was technically illegal, the girl decided to try it anyway. She climbed through the fence and reached the fire escape with slight difficulty. Once there, Y/N made her way up to each window on each floor, peering in slightly to check and hoped that it was Peter’s apartment.

She almost gave up when she reached the fourth window. However, that was when Y/N halted as she peered in. There he was, just like how she remembered him. Except now he was in ordinary clothing that fitted him, instead of his spider-suit or clothes of a Peter Parker from another universe. Blood was no longer on his face, but there were marks indicating that the battle did happen and that he had saved her New York City.

But what struck Y/N was the blonde that was with him. Y/N desperately wanted to believe she was only a friend, but with her hand on his face and the ring on both their left hands’ fourth fingers. Y/N bit her lip as she glanced around his bedroom and saw the photos that hung on the wall. They almost all had the blonde in them. He also looked so happy in all of them. 

He looked in love.

Y/N hands gripped slightly harder on the photo booth’s photos, scrunching it slightly. She held back the tears, but all her self-control broke when she saw his wrist.

His soulmate mark did not match hers.

A sob left her lips as she felt pain jolt through her wrist. Y/N slapped a hand over her mouth as she ducked down from the window, afraid of getting caught.

Peter heard the noise and turned towards the window.

“Probably our neighbor again, she’s always drunk on Friday nights,” Gwen commented, dismissing the noise. Peter kept his glance out the window for a second, his spidey senses signaling something to him but he could not decipher it. Also dismissing the noise, Peter turned back to Gwen and smiled at her.

Meanwhile, Y/N was sitting on the fire escape, her head under the window as she bit into her arm to keep herself from screaming. She leaned against the wall near the window, hiding in the shadow. Tears were free-falling from her eyes as she looked down at her tattoo. The radiating color it once held was slowly slipping away. Another sob almost escaped as she realized that instead of reverting back to black, her soulmate tattoo now had a faded gray color.

The pain slowly subsided, but the numbness remained. Y/N looked at the photo again.

She wondered if he had thought of her at all ever since he came back. She wondered why he never mentioned having a wife and why he would ever cheat on his partner like that. She wondered if he had felt it all like she did, or was it all one-sided and this was once again another false hope situation. Out of bitterness, Y/N ripped the photo in half and discarded it on the metal ground she was sitting on.

He made his choice, so she walked away. Her legs dragged her numb self down the stairs before sliding down a wall in the alleyway to wait for Doctor Strange. 

“Hey, kid,” Doctor Strange called out, scrunching his eyebrows softly as he saw her tear-stained face. Y/N, on the other hand, realized that she was too occupied by her mind to notice that time had passed and the man who had already portaled there.

“...Come on, let’s go home,” he spoke quietly, his voice soft and the most empathetic he could. Doctor Strange knew asking if she was okay would be stupid, and offering sentimental support was not his forte either. In fact, the doctor believed that with his lack of skill in displaying empathy, he might make things worse by accidentally saying something sarcastic and mocking. But either way, he decided to try: “There’s some ice cream at the sanctum...” he muttered, glancing away from the crying girl.

“Thank you, but...just take me home, sir,” Y/N replied, knowing that even though he offered it, the sorcerer was uncomfortable with this kind of situation. Stephen Strange nodded, conjuring a portal with the hand motion that Y/N had seen many times. He stepped through it with ease, but Y/N’s foot felt heavy as she dragged herself closer to the sparkling circle. The girl looked back up at that brightly lit window.

“You coming?” he said softly from the other side of the portal.

Despite her anger at that moment, she knew that if he decided to run after her in the future, she’d still open her arms to him. So if, by chance, it doesn’t work out with Gwen, he’ll always have a chance with Y/N and her world. With that last thought, Y/N stepped through the portal and into her world, saying goodbye to the man that had stolen her heart in less than twenty-four hours.

Granted, her wish came true. She fell in love with no indication from her mark or the concept. And it did prove to her that the concept was genuine. However, it also proved that sometimes soulmates aren’t meant to be, because hers never belonged to her since the beginning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BONUS:

In the middle of New York, a girl entered her favorite sandwich shop. “Hi, can I get a meatball sandwich without pickles and extra cheese, please? Thanks, Richard” the girl ordered.

“No problem, Y/N. How was the shift?”

“Super busy...and depressing. I had to slip away to get my mind off today's surgeries. Everything just seems to fall apart today,” Doctor Y/N L/N answered. Surgery after surgery, the girl has worked for over 50 hours without sleeping. Not only that, but the bus accident has left many in critical conditions.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Here, a brownie on the house,”

“Thank you, Richard, I’ll see you soon.”

The girl picked up her sandwich and brownie before heading towards the door. Before she could reach it, her knee gave away. She collapsed on the ground, groaning loudly as she felt an excruciating pain on her wrist, where her soul mark was.

“What’s happening?” she looked down to see her tattoo of a spider with two shorter legs slowly vanishing. 

“Y/N?” the owner called out, coming up from behind her, trying to figure out what was wrong. The doctor, however, only had her eyes on what was happening to her wrist. There it was, a pink scar in the spot where her soulmate tattoo used to be. Without answering the man behind her, Y/N took out her phone and dialed it.

“This is the Palmer-Strange clinic for soulmate care. How may we help you?” a voice answered through the device.

“Get Doctor Christine Palmer on the phone, please.”

-------------

That's it for the series. Thank you for reading!!!!!!

Series Masterlist: Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Happy Ending, Sad Ending.

[vciousevrvale]

i finished reading your blood, my bones by kelly andrew yesterday, and i don’t know words fit to describe it other than beautiful, because the writing is just so incredibly good, i was amazed the whole time. that book has hundreds of beautiful quotes, i swear, it’s so good i don’t even know what to say, but i know for sure that i won’t be able to get it out of my head anytime soon and will annoy everyone i know by constantly talking about it and analyzing every detail.

what’s funny is i didn’t even know about this book’s existence until a few days ago, i just randomly saw a review (which i didn’t even read, i really just liked the cover and the title), but the premise seemed so interesting and unlike anything else i have ever seen that i just had to immediately pick it up. it was so good. if you just need something with a good atmosphere, interesting characters, and incredibly beautiful writing, please pick up this book. it’s pretty fast-paced and not at all hard to get through, and it definitely deserves way more attention that it’s been getting.

it’s also very much peter by taylor swift coded. i’m not kidding, i’ve been saying this ever since starting this book, and now i can’t even listen to the song (one of my favorites off the album, by the way) without thinking about this book. i was very pleased to find out that the author sees it too, like yes!! you get it!! this book owns that song, so if you like peter by taylor swift, please read your blood, my bones by kelly andrew. it’s just amazing, definitely the best book i’ve read so far this month, and maybe one of my favs of the year, too.

there are books that—i don’t know, maybe they just leave me so flabbergasted that i suddenly can’t think at all, can’t think of a way to describe them, or maybe it’s a permanent thing and i never really know what to say, but really, the only fitting word is beautiful. so painfully, heartbreakingly beautiful. the same thing happened when i read if we were villains by m. l. rio last month—i still can’t shut up about how incredible the writing was. i just love well-written books so much.