#peter Parker x female reader

[httpvomitello]

Tom Holland Peter Parker x y/n

Every time Peter looked at you, it was like the chaos of his double life faded into the background.

I hope you like it ~ ♡♡

Where It’s Quiet .｡*･ﾟﾟ

Summary: When Peter Parker looks at you, it’s like the noise fades.

peter parker x f!reader

Peter Parker’s life was split in two.

There was the public version: college student, intern, quiet nerd with a sweet smile and permanently messy hair. The one who showed up late to lectures and forgot his own birthday sometimes.

And then there was the other version: Spider-Man. Defender of Queens, of Brooklyn, of people who had no idea their friendly neighborhood hero was just a tired guy who lived off dollar pizza and caffeine.

But then there was a third version.

One that only showed up around you.

He didn’t quite understand it at first. Just that… every time he saw you, something in his chest unclenched. Like he could breathe a little easier.

You weren't flashy. You weren’t part of the hero life. You were just—you.

And somehow, that was everything.

It had been raining.

Peter had ducked into a bookstore for shelter, soaked and shivering, with no intention of buying anything. You had been behind the counter, flipping through a paperback and sipping hot chocolate from a chipped glass that said 'Fight Me, I Read Classics.'

He smiled at the glass before he smiled at you.

You looked up. “Need a towel or a copy of War and Peace?”

“Do either come with a working umbrella?”

You tilted your head. “I’ll throw in the sarcasm for free.”

That was the beginning.

You weren’t exactly friends, not right away. Just familiar faces in the same places. You started remembering his coffee order. He started remembering which books you’d already read. You teased each other. Laughed. He’d linger longer than necessary just to hear your voice.

And each time he left the shop, the weight of the world felt a little less sharp.

It terrified him.

Because Peter Parker didn’t get to have normal. He didn’t get to have peace.

But somehow, when he looked at you—really looked at you—the chaos faded.

You were on your lunch break, sitting on the edge of a low brick wall outside the bookstore, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, chewing the end of a straw. Peter had dropped by under the guise of “just being in the neighborhood,” which was obviously a lie, but you let him pretend.

“So,” you said, nudging his knee with yours. “Are you ever gonna tell me why you always look like you haven’t slept in three days?”

He blinked. “I look like that?”

You gave him a knowing look.

Peter hesitated. “I just… have a lot on my plate.”

You didn’t push. You just nodded, taking another sip of your drink. “Well, maybe take something off. The world won’t end if you let yourself breathe.”

He looked at you then.

Really looked.

And something in his chest moved.

He hadn’t even noticed how tightly wound he’d been until you said it.

“Maybe,” he murmured.

It was late. You were closing up, and he was helping—just because. You stacked books. He sorted receipts. You didn’t talk much, but the silence wasn’t awkward. It was easy.

At one point, you stood next to each other behind the counter, only inches apart. Your arm brushed his. Your eyes met.

Something clicked.

Peter swallowed hard. “You make it easier. Just so you know.”

You tilted your head. “Make what easier?”

“Breathing.”

Your face softened. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

The tension was there. Barely restrained. His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you. Yours curled into your sleeves instead.

He didn’t kiss you.

Not yet.

But he thought about it the whole subway ride home.

Everything went wrong.

A weapons deal in the Bronx. A warehouse full of armed men. Shouting. Smoke. Peter barely escaped with a bruised rib and a broken comm.

He got home at three a.m., bleeding and exhausted, hands still shaking from adrenaline.

He should’ve slept.

Instead, he pulled out his phone. Opened your contact. Stared at the screen.

Then typed:

“Are you awake?”

A minute later:

“Yeah. You okay?”

And without thinking, he replied:

“Can I see you?”

You opened the door in an oversized sweater and pajama shorts. No makeup. Hair a mess. Peter stood there, looking wrecked.

You didn’t ask anything.

You just pulled him in and shut the door.

He sat on your couch in silence while you made tea. His eyes were red. His knuckles scraped.

“Rough night?” you asked softly, handing him a mug.

He gave a humorless laugh. “Something like that.”

You didn’t push.

You sat next to him, curling your legs under yourself. “You don’t have to talk.”

He looked at you, and for the first time that night—maybe the first time in days—his shoulders dropped.

“I just needed to be here,” he said.

“You are.”

You were leaning into his side, head on his shoulder, listening to the city breathe.

“I should go,” he whispered.

You didn’t move. “You don’t have to.”

He looked down at you. His fingers found yours.

And then—slowly, carefully—he kissed you.

It was soft. Gentle. Like he was afraid you’d disappear if he leaned in too much. Like he needed to be sure you were real.

When he pulled back, his voice cracked.

“You make everything feel quiet.”

You smiled. “And you make everything feel loud.”

He laughed, kissing your lips again. “Good loud?”

“The best kind.”

[forever-ev]

Mom!reader being upset postpartum and starting to get her pink back

°°°♡°°°☆°°°♡°°°☆°°°♡°°°☆°°°♡°°°☆°°°♡°°°

Peter sits in the rocking chair in Charlotte's nursery, swaying back and forth with your newborn daughter. You walk in and just stare at the sight of your beloved husband and daughter.

"I can't sleep." You say softly.

"Yeah? I'll go lay with you once I put her in her bassinet."

Peter gets up carefully and walks with you back to your bedroom. Charlotte is placed in her bassinet and you two lean against your headboard.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to change her myself." You whisper.

"Baby, you deserve to sleep. You pushed a whole ass human out of you only a few weeks ago. It's my job to take care of her too."

"Yeah, I just feel guilty. I feel like I could be doing more, and I know I've had my almost four trimesters of this, but I just feel gross and tired, and I should feel just love."

"I know you love her, sweetheart, and I'm so proud of you. You are her food source and previously the only thing sustaining her. It's okay for things not to be perfect."

"It's just hard for me to feel blissful when she spit up in my hair earlier and I'm exhausted and bleeding." You groan.

"You have a dinner plate sized wound in your uterus, baby, you're going to feel awful for a bit." He chuckles softly.

"Where'd you hear that?" Your brows furrow and you laugh in shock.

"The nurses when you had her. I was freaking out and they were trying to calm me down with weird facts." Peter laughs along with you.

"Oh, Pete...what did I do to deserve you?" You shake your head.

"Just being you. You deserve every part of this including the baby spitting up on you."

"Whatever." You snort. "Would it be bad if I showered and got dressed up just for fun? I know it's four in the morning but I feel so ugly and gross so maybe that'd help."

☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇

You walk into the living room to see Peter bouncing Charlotte gently while holding her against his chest. He gasps then holds her up closer to you.

"Awww, look at mommy, Charlie. Isn't she so pretty?" He coos.

You giggle and reach for your baby, "Hi, baby...oh, you stink. Does daddy need to change you?"

"Oh, I need to change her?" He laughs.

"Yeah, I thought it was your job too."

"Don't weaponize my own words." He groans but takes her anyway.

°°°♡°°°☆°°°♡°°°☆°°°♡°°°☆°°°♡°°°☆°°°♡°°°

[iamgonnagetyouback]

CURIOSITY GLASSES KILLED PETER.⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤ●ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ P. PARKER

SUMMARY ৎ୭ peter always leaves his glasses lying around, and today, curiosity gets the best of you. slipping them on seems harmless—until he walks in, stops dead in his tracks, and suddenly, you're the cutest distraction he’s ever seen

WARNINGS ಇ. fluff overload, peter being utterly whipped, excessive compliments, and one (1) very flustered boyfriend. proceed with caution A/N ಇ. first peter fic omg?? was kinda gonna make a longer fic on the more angsty side but then i was like nah that’s too much effort so drabble it is. and honestly i love it so much ughhh enjoy!! ‹𝟹 also pls tell me it it's terrible

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 403

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The apartment is quiet, save for the hum of the city outside and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Peter had left a little while ago, probably off to grab coffee or run an errand, leaving you curled up on his couch with one of his old textbooks in your lap.

Your gaze drifts toward the small table beside his desk, where his glasses sit, slightly askew, as if he had taken them off in a hurry. A small smile tugs at your lips. You’ve seen him push them up the bridge of his nose a thousand times, seen the way he squints when he forgets them, how they somehow make him look both like the smartest and the cutest person in the room.

Curiosity wins. You reach over and pick them up, slipping them onto your face.

Everything is…a little off. The lenses make the room blur at the edges, and you blink rapidly, adjusting. A quiet giggle escapes you. “Wow, how does he even see in these?” you murmur, tilting your head at your reflection in the window.

The door creaks open.

“Babe, I—” Peter stops mid-sentence.

You turn toward him, wide-eyed, and his breath catches in his throat.

He blinks once. Twice. His mouth opens, then closes again as if he’s buffering.

“Pete?” you say, confused by his sudden speechlessness.

“Oh my God,” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “Why—why do you look so cute right now? What is happening?”

You snort. “What?”

“No, seriously.” He steps closer, eyes locked on you like you’re a puzzle he’s desperate to solve. “That’s illegal. You can’t just—just put on my glasses and look like that.”

You grin, tilting your head. “Like what?”

“Like the most adorable human to ever exist?” He groans dramatically, dropping onto the couch beside you and burying his face in your shoulder. “This isn’t fair. I wasn’t prepared for this.”

You laugh, tugging the glasses off. “So what you’re saying is I should wear them all the time?”

Peter lifts his head, eyes soft but full of mischief. “Babe, if you do that, I’m never gonna be able to focus on anything else ever again.”

You smirk, slipping them back on. “Guess you’ll just have to suffer, Parker.”

And judging by the way he grins before pulling you into a kiss, you’re pretty sure he doesn’t mind one bit.

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐂𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐬

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → Fluff, jealousy (of a pillow), clingy Peter, playful banter, and excessive cuteness!

Summary → Peter spends his first night at your place, only to find himself jealous of your oversized cat pillow stealing all your cuddles.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the moon filtering through the sheer curtains. It was Peter's first time sleeping over at your place. Though he'd swung through the city countless times, faced down criminals, and juggled the life of Spider-Man with his high school responsibilities, nothing had made him as nervous as tonight.

After a cozy dinner and a movie marathon, you'd both retreated to your room, chatting lazily as you got ready for bed. Now, the real challenge awaited him: sharing a bed with his girlfriend of two months for the first time.

Peter turned his head slightly, watching as you peacefully snuggled your oversized, ridiculously fluffy cat-shaped cuddle pillow. Your face was pressed against the plush fabric, your arms wrapped tightly around it, and your breathing had slowed into the soft rhythm of sleep.

Peter, on the other hand, was wide awake.

He shifted slightly on the bed, feeling the weight of the blanket against his chest. The bed was warm, the sheets were soft, and the scent of your shampoo lingered in the air. It was perfect. Except for one thing.

That stupid. Giant. Pillow.

Peter’s eyes darted to the pillow, which was far too long for its own good. It stretched nearly the length of the bed, practically barricading him from you. He sighed, sinking further into the mattress.

“Lucky pillow,” he mumbled under his breath, glaring at the inanimate object.

He turned onto his side, his face just inches away from the pillow. “You know, I don’t get it. What’s so special about you?” He whispered, his voice barely audible. “I mean, you’re soft, sure, but I’m soft too! And warm! And…” He groaned softly, running a hand through his curls. “God, I’m talking to a pillow.”

Peter glanced at you again. You were oblivious to his plight, blissfully cuddling the intruder. A soft pout formed on his lips as he debated his options. Should he wake you up? No, you looked so peaceful. Should he push the pillow away? No, that felt mean.

“Maybe if I just…” He reached out hesitantly, fingers brushing the edge of the pillow. He gave it a tentative tug, but you tightened your grip in response, mumbling something incoherent in your sleep.

Peter’s heart melted a little at the sound of your sleepy voice. “You’re not making this easy for me, you know,” he murmured, his tone laced with affection.

For a while, he lay there, trying to distract himself. He counted the little stars on your ceiling, listened to the faint hum of traffic outside, and even considered pulling out his phone to play a game. But the ache for your warmth persisted, gnawing at him.

Finally, with a soft huff, he rolled onto his back and muttered, “Okay, Parker. Time to man up.”

He turned back toward you, his cheeks burning as he summoned the courage to speak. “Y/N?” He whispered tentatively. When you didn’t stir, he tried again, a little louder this time. “Y/N?”

You let out a soft groan, your eyelids fluttering open. “Peter?” You mumbled groggily, your voice thick with sleep.

“Uh, hey,” he said, suddenly feeling shy under your sleepy gaze. He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. “Sorry to wake you, but, um… I need to talk to you about something important.”

Your brows furrowed slightly as you propped yourself up on one elbow. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he assured you quickly, waving a hand. “It’s just… I have a problem.”

You blinked, now more awake. “What kind of problem?”

Peter hesitated, glancing at the pillow between you. “It’s about… that.”

You followed his gaze, your eyes landing on the cat pillow. “You mean Mr. Whiskers?”

“Mr. Whiskers?” He repeated, his lips twitching as he tried not to laugh. “That’s its name?”

“Yes,” you said defensively, hugging the pillow closer. “What about him?”

Peter let out a dramatic sigh, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I’m jealous of a pillow.”

You stared at him, your sleepiness evaporating as a laugh bubbled up in your chest. “You’re… jealous? Of Mr. Whiskers?”

“Yes!” Peter exclaimed, sitting up slightly. “You’ve been cuddling him all night, and I’m just… here! All lonely and cold!”

“Lonely and cold?” You teased, raising an eyebrow. “Peter, we’re sharing the same blanket.”

“It’s not the same!” He whined, pouting. “I want cuddles, Y/N. Real cuddles. With you. Not with some oversized stuffed cat.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his adorable sulking. “You should’ve just said so, Pete.”

“I didn’t want to wake you up!” He protested, his cheeks turning pink. “But then you looked so cozy, and I started overthinking it, and—ugh, I sound ridiculous, don’t I?”

“A little,” you admitted, your eyes twinkling with amusement. “But it’s also kind of sweet.”

Peter groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Aw, don’t be embarrassed,” you said softly, leaning over to brush a curl away from his forehead. “You’re cute when you’re clingy.”

“Yeah, well, Mr. Whiskers doesn’t think so,” he muttered, glaring at the pillow.

You giggled, setting the pillow aside and sliding closer to him. “Better?”

Peter’s eyes lit up as you wrapped your arms around him, resting your head against his chest. “Much better,” he said, his voice warm and content.

“You could’ve just asked for cuddles, you know,” you murmured, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his shirt.

“I know,” he admitted, his voice soft. “I just… didn’t want to bother you. You’ve been so tired lately, and I didn’t want to be annoying.”

“Peter,” you said, tilting your head to look up at him. “You could never be annoying. If you want cuddles, just ask, okay? I don’t mind. I like cuddling with you.”

A shy smile spread across his face as he tightened his arms around you. “Okay,” he whispered.

For a while, the two of you lay there in comfortable silence, the warmth of your embrace lulling Peter into a state of pure bliss. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his heart swelling with affection.

“You’re really warm,” he murmured, his voice heavy with sleep.

“So are you,” you replied, your voice muffled against his chest.

Peter chuckled, his fingers gently running through your hair. “I’m never letting Mr. Whiskers steal you from me again.”

“Good,” you said with a smile, your eyes already closing. “Because I like this way better.”

Peter’s heart fluttered at your words, and for the first time that night, he felt completely at ease. As your breathing slowed and you drifted back to sleep in his arms, he made a silent vow: no more cat pillows.

From now on, he’d be the one you cuddled. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[mintyys-blog]

PETERS SECRET— peter parker x stark! reader

WARNINGS: implied sex

Tony Stark prided himself on being an intelligent man. Genius, billionaire, philanthropist—he had a lot of titles. But clairvoyant? Yeah, not one of them.

So when he found a box of condoms in Peter Parker’s backpack while rummaging for a piece of Stark tech the kid had borrowed, he did what any reasonable father figure would do.

He sighed, put them back, and pretended he didn’t see a thing.

Peter was a good kid. He had a life outside of the Avengers, and Tony wasn’t about to metal in his dating life. The kid was responsible, respectful, and, more importantly, not some playboy running around breaking hearts.

So Tony let it go.

That was his first mistake.

His second mistake?

Not checking who, exactly, Peter was dating.

Which led to his third and worst mistake—walking into his daughter’s room one afternoon, completely unannounced, only to find her tangled under the sheets with none other than Peter freaking Parker.

For a full three seconds, there was nothing but dead silence.

Then—“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?” Tony’s voice boomed, making both of you jolt.

“OH MY GOD—DAD!” You frantically scrambled for the blanket, yanking it higher over yourself while Peter nearly fell off the bed in his attempt to escape.

“Mr. Stark—SIR—this isn’t what it looks like!” Peter blurted, eyes wide in terror.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Oh? Because it looks like you were about two seconds away from defiling my daughter in my own house!”

“No, no, no, sir, I would never defile her!” Peter waved his hands frantically before realizing how bad that sounded. “I mean—I would—I mean, not in a bad way—I mean—”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Peter, stop talking.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he squeaked.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply through his nostrils like he was physically holding back an aneurysm. “Parker.”

“Sir?” Peter swallowed hard.

Tony pointed a deadly finger at him. “I let it slide when I found condoms in your backpack. I told myself, ‘You know what? The kid’s growing up, he’s responsible, I don’t need to know who he’s seeing.’ But now—” He let out a humorless chuckle. “Now I know. And I do need to know. Because I am two seconds away from throwing you out the damn window.”

Peter paled. “I—um—I can survive that, but I’d really rather not.”

You groaned again. “Dad, please—”

“Please what? Let you two get back to whatever this is? Hell no!” Tony crossed his arms. “I trusted you, Parker.”

Peter looked like he wanted the Earth to swallow him whole. “I—um—I still want to be trusted?”

Tony scoffed. “Yeah? Well, I trusted Steve too, and you know what happened? He ran off with my murderous ex-friend and hid my parents’ killer from me.”

Peter blinked. “That… that seems like a separate issue, sir.”

“Oh, so now you’re giving me therapy, Spider-Boy?”

“Okay—both of you, stop,” you cut in, grabbing the blanket more securely around yourself. “Dad, I get it. You’re mad. But we’re both adults.”

“You’re nineteen.”

“And legally an adult!”

“Not in my damn house!”

Peter slowly raised a hand. “Mr. Stark, sir, if it helps, I love her.”

Tony snapped his head toward Peter so fast that Peter actually flinched.

“Love?” Tony repeated, like the word offended him on a personal level. “Kid, if you really love her, you wouldn’t be rolling around under the sheets while I’m in the house!”

You groaned. “We weren’t even—”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

Peter frantically nodded. “I won’t! Sir, I swear, I respect her! More than anything!”

Tony exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before muttering, “You know what? I need a drink.” He turned, making his way toward the door before pausing.

Then, without looking back, he said, “Peter.”

Peter stiffened. “Sir?”

Tony glanced over his shoulder, his expression as serious as a heart attack. “If I ever catch you in her bed again, I will build a suit specifically designed to kill you.”

Peter audibly gulped. “Understood, sir.”

With that, Tony left, slamming the door behind him.

Silence fell over the room.

Then, Peter slowly turned to you. “So… do you think I should start writing my will?”

You sighed, collapsing back onto the pillows. “I’ll help you draft it tomorrow.”

[snowluvvie]

Chocolate lava cake with Peter Parker!!!! Any letter (or all if ur feeling kind) I need this please please please thank you

You need to pick a letter next time but I love Peter so I picked three I wanted :)

₊˚⊹ ♡ . NSFW ALPHABET (D, S, Y) w/ PETER PARKER

₊˚⊹ ♡ . MDNI 18+. warnings — fem!reader, voyeurism, peter being a perv and a peeping tom, m. masturbation, overstimulation, crying, oral (m. and f. receiving), p in v

D is for DIRTY SECRET — pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of his

That little perv has swung by your window countless times, usually just under the guise of “checking in on you” or “making sure everything’s alright” because he is the neighborhood hero, of course—and you do live in the neighborhood, right? You were always going about your normal day-to-day when he saw you, brushing your teeth, typing on your laptop in the living room, rushing to put your shoes on because you were late to go somewhere. Those moments made him like you more and more, seeing you just be.

That is, until that one time he caught you changing. It seemed like he’d swung past the very moment your bra had fallen to the ground. He was a gentleman, averted his eyes and left… after a minute… or two. After you were fully dressed again. (Fine. Peter watched you change.) Poor guy (pervert) was rock hard the whole rest of his patrol, swinging around the city with a massive bulge in the front of his suit. Thank god he didn’t end up having to stop any crime—that would’ve been awkward (deserved.) The sight of your tits is the only thing that filled his head when he was strangling his own dick for the next… month? No, much longer. Until the next time he saw you like that.

S is for STAMINA — how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?

Super-stamina… self explanatory, no? (I’m gonna explain anyway.) Sometimes it seems like Peter can go forever, as long as you’ll let him—and sometimes he lasts too long, focuses too intensely how good you feel when he’s rutting into you, closes his eyes and just gets completely lost in it. He’ll go until you’re both dripping with sweat, the sheets soaked through, and you’re struggling to come down from your third orgasm, shaking and spasming and whining, but he just doesn’t let up. It takes you saying his name in a choked sob: “Peter,” for him to finally open his eyes and look down at you, all disheveled underneath him, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes—for him to come back to reality and with a long, breathy moan, he finally cums at the sight of you. And if we’re being honest, he would’ve gone longer if you hadn’t been desperately exhausted and fucked out.

Y is for YEARNING — how high is his sex drive?

Quite literally wants you—needs you—all the time, but he can be reserved about it, especially in the beginning.

When he swings by your place after a patrol late at night, desperately wanting to let off some steam, he doesn’t want to say anything about it. You’ll have a perfectly nice night until you notice the way Peter’s jaw has been set all funny while you’ve been walking around in your cute little PJs, nipples perked up from the cold air. He doesn’t wanna “ruin a wholesome night,” but you saw the look on his face at least twenty minutes ago, and have been pushing your chest out ever since then. When he finally admits he’s tense, and you suck him off to help him relax, he insists on returning the favor. He feels bad receiving without giving back—so every time you swallow his cum, you find yourself halfway off the edge of the bed with his head buried between your legs.

The longer you’re together, the more confident he feels just snatching you up so the two of you can run away, giggling and making out, to your bedroom or some other private corner of whatever you are, so he can release tension by bouncing you on his cock. He’s so strong, you don’t find yourself having to do any of the work when you don’t want to. Peter will fuck you senseless, and then kiss you long and sweet and tell you: “Thanks :)” with that grin and glint in his eye, like you did him a favor. All you can do is nod numbly in response, still dazed.

[backtothefanfiction]

Professor Peter Parker

Summary: The first day of college nerves are suddenly made worse when you realised the guy you f*cked last night is your new Physics Professor!

Warnings! 18+ ONLY! This is some of the filthiest smut I have ever written and posted on here yet. Female reader and pronouns, Age gap (everyone is of legal age, Peter is a very young Professor), Oral (F + M Receiving), Dirty Talk (so much fucking dirty talk), praise kink, edging, P in V, Peter Parker (YES he does need his own warning), One Night Stand... or is it?, ITS SEX PEOPLE, JUST STRAIGHT UP SEX WITH A LITTLE PLOT FOR ADDED TENSION AND POW!

Word Count: 4.9k+

A/N: Consider this my formal application piece for the literary prostitutes society. There are no words for this, so I'm just gonna type/sing Don't Lose Your Head from Six. "Sorry not sorry but what I said, I'm just tryin' to have some fun..." But seriously though this was so self indulgent and I can't believe this came out of me. It's very much giving Aria and Ezra in Pretty Little Liars but older and much more Peter Parker. Also I am really sorry about if the tense keeps changing, I sometimes have a problem with finding my rhythm and I really cba to spend the time working it all out and changing it.

First day of college. Standard level of nerves for a first day. Are you running on just a couple hours of sleep? Sure. Still a little tipsy from last night? Okay, yeah, maybe just a little, but that’s a good thing right. Takes the edge off. But then again numbers and science had never let you down before. You can do physics. You’ve got this.

You took a deep breath, hand hesitating on the door handle. ‘This is the first day of the rest of your life.’ You said to yourself, breathing deeply.

You found a spot somewhere in the middle of the room. Not so eager you were at the front but you also didn’t want to hide away in the back. That and you were pretty sure you were due for an eye test and if you sat any further back you wouldn’t be able to read the board. You got out your notepad, flipping open to the first page, your fingers smoothing across the fresh paper comfortingly. You reach for a fresh pencil from the novelty pack your Mom had bought you especially for your first week, knowing you prefer the feel of writing in pencil than pen, the ink always getting smudged on your hand from your messy scrawl. You pluck the one with tiny zebra all over it from the clear case before placing it back in your bag. Your fingers drum the back of the pencil on your page nervously as you wait. You tried not to overthink things as your stomach began to churn. Had you really turned up this early? You took a quick look around the room at the other 5 people who had actually been there before you. ‘Hey,’ you reasoned to yourself, ‘at least you weren’t as early as them.’ 

You yawned. Damn you were tired. Although you had this early class, when your new room mate suggested you go out with the guys who lived across the hall you couldn’t say no. To be fair, it had been a good night all considered. You had met some new people, exchanged a few numbers, agreed to go to the end of semester drama club performance even though the term had only just started, drank way too many jello shots, got snuck into a local bar and then ended up going home with a tall brunette with the softest yet devious brown eyes you had ever seen who completely rocked your world. 

You absentmindedly rubbed your thighs together, squirming slightly in your seat as you thought back to his head between your legs. The lewd moans he’d pulled from your lips echoing around your brain. It sent a fresh new wave of arousal straight to your core.

‘Not the time or place.’ you berated, instead forcing your mind back into the classroom and the task at hand. ‘Physics of Matter with Professor Peter Parker. He was probably middle aged’ you thought to yourself. It was always the case with classes like these, middle aged men finally leaving the lab for the first time after finally completing their life's work, now relenting to their wife’s begging to spend more time with the family. Or older men with white hair, wrinkles and tweed, desperately holding on to their independence, understimulated by the idea of retired life when all that knowledge of matter and the universe was rattling around their brains. ‘Young hot professors were only to be found in the movies or on TV’ you daydreamed as you tried to distract yourself from the growing pit of nerves in your stomach.

You check your phone every few seconds as other students file into the room, finding their own seats as you count down the minutes. 5 minutes… 3 minutes… 2 minutes… 1 minute… … He’s late… 1 minute past… 2 minutes past… 3 min-

“Okay, okay, settle down!” A voice called out as the classroom door opened, far younger than she expected and slightly familiar. “Welcome to Physics of Matter,” the voice continued as he made his way towards the board, picking up a bit of chalk and lifting it to the board as he spoke, “I am Professor Parker, but please,” he said dropping the piece of chalk back onto the little shelf at the bottom of the board, “call me Peter.” He said finally turning around.

SHIT!

DOUBLE SHIT!

You dip your head towards your page as you sink a little bit down in your seat. Hopefully he won’t notice. ‘FUCK!’ your head was suddenly screaming as all those memories of the night before flooded your brain again. His messy hair. His naked body. The way he had moaned into your cunt- FUCK!

You subtly glanced around the room from your head's dipped position. This had to be some new prank show right. There’s no way this happened in real life. There had to be cameras. He’s an actor right? Ashton Kutcher was about to burst through the classroom door shouting “YOU’VE BEEN PUNK’D” any second followed by the actual Professor Parker, right? Right?

“Now I’m not gonna ask you to get your books out this lesson,” he began to say playfully, his voice carrying around the room as he walked back and forth in front of his desk surveying his new class. “Today is about you getting to know me and me just going over all the things we are gonna be covering over the course of our year together.” He said, talking a lot with his hands. “As much as I’d love to start getting into equations with you, I’ve learnt that that tends to be futile during our first lessons. I mean, just by a show of hands, who went out drinking last night?” Professor Parker asked and a shower of hands across the room went up, Peter’s gaze scanning across the faces of the raised hands as he continued, “Keep your hand up if you’re still a little bit drunk-” his voice cut off as his eyes finally landed on you, his own oh shit face befalling him.

You felt your skin crawl as people lowered their hands and began following his gaze to you. You moved your hand up to your face as you sank down in your seat further. ‘Stop staring. Stop staring. Stop staring!’

8 HOURS EARLIER 

“I couldn’t help but see you staring.” He said as he sidled up to you. ‘Holy fuck’ he was gorgeous. Tall, lean, perfectly messy brown hair and the most delicious biceps (not too big) that were flexing under the cuffs of his fitted T-shirt you really just wanted to wrap your fingers around and squeeze. Damn. “Is she okay?” He said turning to your friend.

“Yeah she’s just-“ your roommate started before nudging you and breaking you from your hypnotised gaze on this absolute Adonis of a man. “She thinks you’re really hot!” she shouted over the music to him.”

He raised his eyebrows as he gave a small chuckle, flattered, as you cringed. They both laughed at you. “Do you wanna dance?” he asked as he took your hand.

“Yes, she does!” your friend said, pushing you off your stool. His other hand comes out to steady you as you almost slam into his chest. You blush before turning to give your roommate a death stare. 

He flashed one of those charming smiles again before he began to guide you away from her and to the dance floor. His hand doesn’t leave yours as he starts to bop and bounce, easing you both into the music. You slowly relax, smiling as a giddy feeling churns in your stomach, as you begin to bop with him to the music.

The music swells and he gives you a twirl under his arm before he pulls you closer to him. “So have you got a name or am I supposed to refer to you as flower for the rest of the night?”

You frown. “Why Flower?” 

“Isn’t that the name of the skunk in Bambi who is all quiet and has those big eyes and blushing cheeks and-”

“Don’t call me Flower.” you quickly say, slightly embarrassed by the way you had gone all goo goo eyed and helpless over him.

“Okay, then what can I call you?”

You hesitate for a second as you think about giving him your real name but what would be the fun in that, especially if this only turned out to be a one night stand. “Trouble.”

He laughs, his head dipping to hide his amusement. “Is that so?” he says from beneath his lashes. “Fine, if that’s how we’re playing it, you can call me Professor Brat Tamer, Professor for short.”

You feel your arousal soak your panties the moment he says it, the words going straight to your core. What have you gotten yourself in for? It’s like he knows too from the way he’s smirking. He turns you, pulling you back into him, his hands resting on your hips as he begins to grind himself against your ass. “Now, are you gonna be a good student?” he coos against your ear only loud enough for you to hear. “Or are you gonna be like your namesake says and cause me a whole lot of trouble?”

He can feel the way you relax your body back against him, your eyes closing as you relish in the feeling his words elicit in you. 

You smirk as you look back at him, “I’m sorry Professor, but you may have your work cut out for you.”

An hour and a half later he’s pulling you into his apartment, your back slamming hard against a wall of exposed brick as your mouth latches onto his. Both of you had done so well keeping your hands to yourself the whole way back, but the moment you got through the door it was like a starting pistol had gone off, both of you suddenly in a race for pleasure.

You moan against his mouth as his tongue slips between your teeth. You can taste his final Jack and Coke he had had before you left. Your skin felt like it was burning under his touch.

“Fuck.” You gasp as his mouth is suddenly moving across your jaw and down your neck, his teeth and stubble grazing you slightly in his hunger for you. 

“God Trouble, you sound so fucking pretty.” he coos against your chest, his hand moving to paw at your breast, bunching it up to spill over the top of your dress as he leaves wet kisses across the skin.

Your fingers wrap around his messy tresses as you pull his head back up so you can connect your mouth with his again, a small growl escaping his lips at the slight pain. You kiss him messily, both of you breathing heavily before you push him back, allowing you room to drop to your knees on the hardwood floor. Your fingers immediately begin to fight with his belt buckle, the sound of the metal clinking sending arousal straight between your own legs.

“Fuck.” He pants as he looks down at you, his hand reaching to cradle either side of your face as you pull down his jeans and his boxers in one swift pull. “Uh, baby, baby, baby.” he coos as you take his length into your mouth and immediately begin to work your tongue up and down his cock.

His fingers move away from your face, grabbing at the hem of his t-shirt and you watch as he pulls it up and over his head, exposing the rest of his body to you. Fuck he really was gorgeous. “Oh my god.” he cried out when you began to swallow his length down your throat, your nose pressing to his pelvic bone. “Uh,” he said, his head tipping back, “she’s not trouble, she’s fucking perfect.” he says as he drops his head back forward to watch you, his thumb reaching to wipe away a stray tear at the corner of your eye.

You take his length out of your mouth as you gasp for air and he thinks it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. “Come here Trouble.” he says as he takes your face and chin in his hands and lifts you from the floor, pulling your lips back to his as he smashes his mouth into yours.

He begins to kick off his shoes as well as his jeans and boxers that now sit tangled around his ankles as he continues to kiss you, freeing himself so he can lift you up into his arms, your own arms throwing themselves around his neck, as he carries you to his bedroom.

You can’t help but cheekily bite at his lower lip as he stops just before the foot of the bed. “Oh she has some bite does she?” he says against your mouth. Your teeth almost clash together from how close you are as you grin, waiting to see what he’ll do or say next. “Okay,” he says as he pauses a little for dramatic effect, “I can bite back.” he says before throwing you back on the bed.

You let out a small squeal as you're caught by the mattress springs and pillows. You quickly prop yourself up on your elbows so you can see the devilish look on his face as he pulls off your heels before he stalks up the bed towards you. He leans over you, attaching his lips to yours once more, his tongue sliding deftly into your mouth and out again with every kiss until his last, when he uses it to suck your lower lip between his teeth, pulling on it. He releases it just as you’re beginning to feel it bruise, his lips instead attaching to your throat as his hands come up to pull down the top of your dress. He had already clocked that you were sans bra from how low the back of your dress was and is even more grateful now he can immediately latch himself onto your nipples, his tongue lapping at the small sensitive nibs, one and then the other.

You moan under his touch, your eyes falling closed as your head tips back, fingers gripping tightly at the covers beneath you. When he looks up at you, keening under his touch, he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Look at me baby.” he softly commands and you oblige, your chin pressing to your chest as you gaze straight into those big brown eyes. It’s the sexiest eye contact you’ve ever held. It’s like he’s fucking you with his eyes as his fingers begin to snake their way up your thighs, lifting the bottom of your dress up to your hips so he can pull down your underwear. He takes one feel of them before saying, “Fuck, trouble, these are soaked.”

You can only nod in agreement, as all words seem to have left your brain. ‘Fuck, he’s so fucking hot’ you think, as he kisses his way down your middle, over your dress until he reaches the hem where he can start kissing at your skin. You sigh, your head falling back again at the sensation of his lips kissing across your hips and then down your thighs. 

His fingers spread your legs and he gives a small nip to the inside of your thigh and you gasp at the small feeling of pain, that quickly turns to pleasure, as yet another wave of arousal floods between your legs.

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping.” he says as his finger scoops up the arousal thats begining to drip down your thighs, bringing it up to his mouth. You watch hypnotised as he sucks on his fingers. “Damn, trouble, you tast so fucking good.” he says as he slips his fingers from his mouth. It’s so filthy. He has barely done anything and you’re a fucking goner.

His tongue suddenly crashes between your folds. “FUCK!” you cry out loudly. His fingers trace over your thighs, reaching for your own fingers which you entwine with his. He’s got his eyes closed, savouring every moan, every little gasp he pulls from you. 

He can tell you’re getting close from how your cunt begins to grind itself down against his tongue, chasing you’re high, but to allow you to have it would be too easy. He listens closely to your breathing, your moans; one… two… he suddenly moves his mouth away and you want to scream. He playfully nips at the inside of your thigh, almost hard enough to bruise. You really do scream now in frustration. “Told you I could bite.” he says coily as he mumbles against your skin. 

He licks another stripe through your folds as if in apology, as if to soothe the sting but his tongue flicks at your sensitive clit before he sucks it hard between his lips and you cry out again. “Mmmm.” he hums against your cunt, “you sound so pretty when you scream like that.”

You want to cry, you are so sensitive and overstimulated but suddenly he’s lapping at your pussy again and you’re melting back into the bed as your muscles begin to relax again with the long slow licks of his tongue.

When you both begin to feel the build of your climax again he doesn’t pull away this time. He lets you have it, your thighs closing around his head, hips bucking off the bed as the wave of pleasure crashes over you. He keeps going, his mouth lapping up everything you’ll give him until you're pulling yourself away from him. Tears well in the corners of your eyes from the over stimulation as you pant and whine and rub your thighs together, desperate for the feeling to dissipate. He grabs at your ankles, holding you still as you flop back into the pillows at the top of the bed.

“So good for me Trouble, you’re doing so good.” he says as he crawls up the bed to kiss you. 

Although he’s wiped at his mouth, the taste of you still remains and you lick it off every part of his mouth you can reach as he settles himself between your legs.

His hands slide up your thighs before they’re grabbing ahold of your waist and suddenly he’s flipping you, his head crashing into the pillows as you straddle his hips. Your lips race to chase his as you continue to pant breathlessly into his mouth, another flood of arousal soaking between your legs. 

His fingers reach for the bottom of your dress, lifting it up and off your head, leaving you finally, completely naked before him. “Fuck, trouble,” he moans as his eyes drink you in, “has anyone told you how absolutely fucking perfect you are.” You giggle and blush as you lean down to kiss him. “No. No. Look at me.” he says as he takes your head in his hands and moves you away from him so you have to look at him. He’s giving you that look with his eyes again as he holds your face in place, not allowing you to break eye contact with him for one single moment as he begins to grind his hips up against you, his rock hard cock grinding against your clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. “So fucking perfect.” he repeats. “Now tell me, trouble, how do you want me to fuck you?” You can’t think, your eyes closing as you try to focus your thoughts as his skin drags across your clit teasingly. He gently taps your cheek with his fingers, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. “Eyes on me Trouble,” he says, “find your words, tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

You shake your head as you close your eyes again, really unable to think. “Options.” you say breathlessly, your eyes flying open, before he can punish you for breaking eye contact again. “Give me options.” 

“Okay.” he concedes with a small nod and a smile. “Okay, pretty girl.” he repeats again soothingly as he pulls you back down closer to him, his lips kissing you sweetly and encouragingly, aware he’s over stimulating your brain. “I can fuck you like this.” he says as he looks into your eyes. His hand slowly trails down to wrap around your throat, his other hand still cradling the back of your head as he flips you again. “Or I can fuck you like this.” he says as he continues to slowly grind himself against your sex. “Or,” he says as he lowers his head down to the crook of your neck, breathing you in deeply as he speaks directly into your ear, “I can flip you over and fuck you from behind.” You sigh as his words go straight to your core again.

“The last one.” you say breathlessly as your eyes close.

“MMM.” he hums into your ear as his teeth nip at your jaw, satisfied with your response. He pushes you back into the bed slightly as he lifts himself onto his knees, his hands moving away from your face and you watch him eagerly as you await his next move. He leans over to the bedside table, reaching into the draw for a condom, lazily tugging at his length with one hand whilst he uses his teeth and the other hand to open it up. You’re almost starring as he’s rolling it down the length of his cock, fully taking in his erect size. He smirks when he looks up to notice you nibbling at your lower lip.

“Come here, trouble.” he says before he’s flipping you over, your head finding a comfortable position on the pillow as he lifts your ass into the air. 

He slides his fingers down your opening before placing two fingers slowly inside you, stretching you out and you let out another breathy moan at the feeling. He pumps them in and out of you a couple more times before he slowly lets them slide out of you, his fingertips dragging agonisingly across your clit before he uses them to pump his cock again a couple times, shifting himself into position.

His fingers grip tightly onto your hips as he lines himself up and slowly pushes himself inside you, your back arching with the stretch, head shifting as you let out another moan of satisfaction into the pillow. “Mmm, let me hear you baby.” he says as his hand removes itself from your hip to reach for the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he turns your head back towards him.

“Fuck.” you hiccup as he pulls himself out little by little before he’s slamming his hips forward against your ass, pushing himself in even deeper.

“Fuck, trouble. So fucking tight for me.” 

You lose all ability to speak as he begins fucking into you, slowly building his pace until he’s fucking into you at a wicked speed. You want to scream again, your face screwing up in ecstasy as his cock continuously hits that spot inside you that makes you want to explode. His other hand reaches around for your throat, pulling you back up as he leans over you so he can stick his tongue back into your mouth. It adjusts his angle somehow, making the feeling in your cunt even more intense. Your mouth falls open as he holds it there, you’re panting and moaning into his mouth. “Look at me.” he encourages as his thumb rubs soothingly across your jaw. You can’t help but obliged. 

It’s too much. It’s the hottest, most filthiest sex you’ve ever had. You know you’ll never be the same again. Nothing, no one, will ever compare to this. “Please, please, please.” you find yourself repeating as your eyes close again. You’re so close and he knows it because your cunt is constricting like a vice around his cock. 

He moves his hand down to circle at your clit between your legs. “Come on, trouble, give it to me,” he coaches, “Fuck, baby!” he snarls against your mouth as he smashes his lips to yours again, pulling at your lips bruisingly. 

You pull your mouth away from him, wailing, gasping for breath as your body convulses around him, his pace only slowing slightly to help you ride out your climax. “So good.” he coos, “My trouble, so fucking good for me. Atta girl.”

His pace is steady as he feels you begin to relax again but you’re still so stimulated. You’re surprised he’s still going. “Your turn.” you say to him breathlessly and he smiles. When he doesn’t say anything you decide to push your luck. “How do you want to fuck me?” you coo, now you’re the one who’s eye fucking him.

You watch as he closes his eyes, head falling back. He chuckles then, something low and devious. He suddenly pulls out of you. It makes you feel so empty. You’re about to whine but then he’s flipping you over and pulling your legs together and then over his shoulder as he bends you in half. He lines himself back up with your entrance and slips back in with ease and you gasp as he bottoms out, the position making him hit that devastating spot inside you instantly. He leans all the way over so he can kiss you, his mouth swallowing every moan, gasp and breath that leaves your mouth as he pounds down into you like something fierce.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” you whine as the sensitivity grows too much. His pelvis is slamming against your clit with every thrust. Now you really are crying, your eyes rolling back in your head as you feel yourself clamping down on his cock again. 

“Oh my god, baby.” he says. “You’re so fucking wet. So fucking good. Such a good fucking girl.”

It’s a guttural wail you let loose into the room as you cum and his head dips down as he buries himself in the crook of your neck, his thrusts growing even faster as he chases his high. “Stay with me, Trouble,” he says, trying to ground you. He lifts his head, hand reaching for your face, forcing you to look at him. “Just a little bit longer, baby, just a little bit-” but he can’t finish his words. He’s so fucking close. One pump, two- he suddenly stills as he buries himself inside you, his forehead pressing into yours grounding you both as he pumps his seed into the condom inside you. You whine at the feeling of his cock pulsating against the still extremely sensitive spot inside you.

“You did so good.” His voice reassures as he strokes soothingly across your cheek forcing you to look at him as you breathe deeply and heavily in your come down. “So fucking good.” he says as he kisses your forehead before slipping out of you. 

With his body no longer crowding you you fully relax back into his sheets, your eyes closing as you try to regulate. You think you might even pass out. You think you may even have blacked out for a second, but you know you haven’t as your eyes fly open and your body jumps at the feeling of a cool damp cloth between your legs.

He watches you content as you suddenly relax once more, the cool washcloth doing wonders to soothe the hot swollen feeling between your legs as he cleans you up. You definitely black out then, completely exhausted.

You are disturbed again a few minutes later, a soft reassuring hand brushing up your legs. “Here.” his voice says softly as he sits on the side of the bed next to you, waiting for you to open your eyes and look at him so he can pass you a glass of water.

The cold liquid does wonders to help regulate your temperature and you can’t help but stare at him again in wonder as he sits before you in a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms. He leans over you, kissing the top of your head, breaking you from your sex induced stupor.

“You can stay if you want.” You nod your head, you have no energy to move yet.

“Okay.” he says with a soft smile as he takes the now mostly empty glass from your fingers. “I’m gonna go get you another one of these,” he says motioning to the glass now in his hands, “you go to the toilet, there’s a spare toothbrush under the sink, get yourself ready for bed and when you get back we can cuddle.”

You still have no words, just dociley nod and agree. You wobble slightly as you try to stand, blood rushing back to your limbs and his hand reaches out to steady you. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” You say as you sway slightly and wave him away.

He just chuckles. “Whatever you say, trouble.”

You crawl into bed beside him 5 minutes later, tucking yourself into his side as his arm wraps around you. “You really are Professor Brat Tamer huh?” you joke as you nestle into his bare chest.

“And don’t you know it.” he smiles, pulling you tighter into his side so he can place a kiss to the top of your head.

You wake just after 6am, sneaking from his bed with a smile on your face as you pick up your clothes before doing the walk of shame back to your student halls. The sun is just coming up and the leaves are just starting to change, you can still feel the alcohol in your system as well as the after effects of your orgasms and you know, although you’re tired, today is gonna be a great first day… or was it?

________________________-

@tarzinnia @withahappyrefrain @xenasolos @sincericida

Is this a one off? I don't know. Is there a lot of room for this to turn into a collection of shorts... yeah, maybe.

[lotus-n-l0ve]

𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐀 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐞𝐞

— Peter Parker x Stark!Female Reader

☯ SYNOPSIS : When Peter's girlfriend pays him a little visit in Midtown High School and meets his long time bully, Flash Thompson.

☯ WARNINGS : Au, stark!reader, Peter is barely present in the fic, cursing.

☯ NOTE FROM LOTUS : Hey guys. I have been having such a bad writer's block that I couldn't write anything for past few weeks. I'm writing this to, hopefully, get over my writer's block.

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 || 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

The red Saleen S7 car, parked outside of Midtown High School, gaining curious glances from the students and passersby. You wait, sitting on the driver's seat, with your phone in your hand. The past week you were out of the country with your father so you had not seen him for the past seven days and barely got to talk to him.

So when you came back today, you wanted to give him a surprise visit. You came here, all confident, but now you were doubting your choices. Maybe you should just wait till school ends?

Fuck it. You are Y/N Stark, girl. Since when do you get nervous?

You checked yourself last time in the back mirror. Perfect as always. You throw yourself a flying kiss and put on your favourite pair of glasses. The car door opens with a click and you get down. It was not long before you were walking down the halls of Midtown High, making everyone stop what they were doing and gawk at you.

You chuckle in your mind. Of course you loved being the centre of attention. You were Tony Stark's daughter after all. Now there's one problem. You don't know exactly where Peter is. You look around the hall before your eyes fall on a boy, sitting with two girl on each side.

Without any second thoughts, you walk up to him, "Hey, do you know where Peter Parker is?"

Flash tore his eyes from the beautiful girls in his arm to the legs standing in front of him. He raised his eyes to your face. His gaze so disgusting that made you want to throw up.

"Talking to me, angel?" Flash stood up, abandoning the girls.

You roll your eyes at his pathetic attempt of flirting. At least he got the angel part right.

"I asked if you know where Peter Parker is." You deadpan.

"Peter Parker? Oh! You mean penis Parker. What do you need with him? I'm sure I can help you way more than he can." Flash wiggled his eyebrows at you, giving you a suggestive look.

You just stared at him, completely unimpressed and now angered. This pathetic flirt has the audacity to call your baby penis— wait a damn minute. Penis Parker? Something clicked in your mind.

"Are you Flash Thompson?" You ask before you could stop yourself.

Surprise flashed on his face before a smug smirk appeared on his face.

"Wow! I know that I'm famous but not much. Damn!" He said, running a hand through his hair.

You giggle at his ignorance as you take off your glasses. Folding it and keeping it safely in your hand bag, you step towards him, closing the distance between you two.

"Listen here you little shit." The smirk on his fell at your words, "If I ever hear from Peter that even got anywhere near him, I'll kidnap you, shave off your head, leave you on a deserted island and post your disgusting nudes all over the internet."

"Wh—"

"Shut up and listen." Flash gulped with fear, his face covered in sweat. The menacing aura around you looked scarier than the monster under his bed.

You say while jabbing on his forehead with your pointer finger, "Don't think of him, don't look at him, don't walk on his direction, don't breathe on his direction. Don't go anywhere around my boyfriend. Got it, you failed experiment of a chimpanzee?"

"Y-yes, I....um, I-I..... I under-understand." He nodded his head vigorously. Anything to get away from you.

"Good." You back away, giving him space to finally breathe in relief. Fuck! He didn't know Peter's girlfriend was this scary.

"Y/N?" The familiar voice of your boyfriend called from behind and your demeanour changed like lizards change colours.

"Hey, Pete." You walk up, giving him a quick kiss, "let's go, you are skipping class today. I missed you."

You linked your arm with him and started dragging him out of the school. Peter complied with you because he did miss you a lot too and skipping one day was not going to do any harm on him.

"I missed you a lot." Peter smiled down at you.

You left the school, leaving behind a embarrassed Flash. After you two left did Flash realised the crowd of students circling around him in the hallway. And they were chuckling while looking down at his pants?

Flash looked, "FUCK!"

His blue jeans were now dark blue, water spread on the floor around him. He had peed in his pants. His face turned red with anger and embarrassment. He should not have fucked with Peter.

FUCK!

© 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒-𝐍-𝐋𝟎𝐕𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 — all content rights belongs to LOTUS-N-L0VE. do not plagiarize any works and do not repost or translate onto any other sites.

All the rights and credits of the characters, gifs, songs and pictures used here belongs to their rightful owners.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Soulmates with Peter Parker? 🥺💕

.⋆｡Arachnophobia｡⋆.

Peter Parker x plus size reader

Who knew that moving to New York could be just the kick the universe needed to fulfil your destiny?

Warnings: fluff, soulmate AU, explosions WC: 876

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

6k Celebration Bingo

Well this spider doesn’t hate you.

Those were the words that appeared along your collarbone the day you turned 18. The black lettering was just barely visible when you awoke that morning but by lunch time, all of your friends were poking fun at the strange phrase now permanently branded into your skin. You glared at them as you told them to back off and that you at least had an interesting soulmate if their first words to you were as strange as that.

But a nagging part of your mind wondered if they were right, if the person that burned with the same flame as you did was some kind of weirdo. As the months went on, you imagined countless scenarios where those six words would be uttered to you. Maybe at a frat costume party where they would be dressed like a spider. Or they were your next door neighbour and they saved you from a stray arachnid that had made a home in your kitchen. Or maybe they were just really into spiders in general. Needless to say, your obsession with your soulmate's words had slowly developed an aversion to the insects, going completely out of your way to avoid them just in case your soulmate was a weirdo like your friends had predicted.

Three years after you finally escaped the social wormhole of high school, you moved to New York City. With a scholarship under your belt and dreams of going to a college that could handle more than 300 students, you moved into a tiny dorm right at the edge of Columbia’s campus. You were excited to chase your dream but first- you needed groceries.

With headphones fitted tightly against your ears, the deafening sounds of the city blurred around you. You weren’t really sure exactly where you were going but it was early afternoon and your phone was fully charged, so what was the harm in wandering for a while. 

New York City opened up before you, the skyline glittered with thousands of windows and bright lights capturing your gaze no matter where you turned. It was all so exciting and rather distracting. You were ignorant to the commotion building behind you, until a strange heat licked at the back of your neck.

In a second, your world went completely upside down, literally. The only warning you received before the wind was knocked from your lungs was the blast of some sort of explosion and then, the world zipped by you. Someone had a firm hold on your thick waist as dots of light swirled around you. You clung to them, your head spinning as they lifted you higher and higher, until it all suddenly stopped.

Gravel crunched under your shoes as you stumbled forwards. A hand curled around your wrist, keeping you upright. You crashed into his strong chest. Your eyes slowly came into focus as the ringing in your ears faded. Sirens filled the air yet all you could think about was the insignia of a spider splayed across the red suit right in front of you.

“God I hate spiders.” The white eyes of his mask widened comically as you heard his breath stutter. His grip on your waist tightened for just a second.

“Well this spider doesn’t hate you.” The world stilled in that moment. You leaned back just enough to look into his eyes, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“I didn’t expect this.”

“Neither did I, I mean I am Spider-MAN and you hate spiders.” Heat crawled up your cheeks while you bashfully glanced away but quickly looked at him as he laughed. Something deep in your chest came to life with his laugh, quickly spreading through your veins and making your heart flutter with a whole new emotion. 

His gloved hands slipped down to the small of your back. You could feel the way his body shook with adrenaline, just the same as yours was. “Maybe I don’t hate this spider.”

“I could be venomous.” You shrugged, your fingers slowly creeping up the expanse of his torso, feeling the toned muscle that lay just beneath his suit.

“As long as you don’t bite, I think we’ll be ok.” His mask scrunched up where you imagined his lips would be.

“I-“ Another explosion rocked the building beneath your feet. He tore his gaze away from you. He sighed heavily and reluctantly took a step back. “I have to go.”

Your touch lingered on him for as long as you could, almost fearful that he would completely vanish the second you let him go. “I know.” The tips of his fingers brushed against the swell of your hips.

“I’ll come back, I swear.” His voice cracked. 

“Go save the world Spidey and I’ll let you take me on a date.” And with a gentle kiss to his masked cheek, you fully broke away from the other half of your soul. 

He jumped onto the ledge of the building you stood atop of. “Just so long as there’s plenty of flies for me to eat.” And as he swung away, your laughter still ringing in his ears, Peter was suddenly glad that there was one person in the world who hated spiders.

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[deftmeat]

‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ 彡 ‎ ‎ ‎‎ stepbrother!peter parker obsessed with you

NSFW ( mostly just a self-indulgent au )

• reposted since tumblr hid it •

w a r n i n g : contains non con and perv!peter

before tony stark had settled down with pepper potts, he had been with another woman. but after a messy divorce and an unwanted child, he decided to cut off all contact with her.

that woman was your mother. you had never met your father until she handed you off to him one day in the chilly autumn of new york.

after turning 18, she had decided to kick you out and dump you at the very front doors of stark tower.

with loose, messily packed luggage and fat tears staining your face, a man with short curly hair opened the door to you.

of course, later you learned his name was happy and tony trusted him greatly. happy also seemed to willfully obey his every order so you assumed there was a lot of trust and history between them. but you also wondered if tony ever told anyone about you.

it didn’t surprise you though, when you were brought up to tony, escorted by happy, that your father had no idea who you are. and when you explained yourself, he acted shocked you existed.

that’s how you ended up being employed by tony himself, starting out more as an errand runner or assistant to his incessant requests.

you couldn’t lie and say you enjoyed the first few months helping out around the avengers tower and catering to people who intimidated you- but after two years you had come to form closer relationships with those on the team and were more than just a nuisance.

but there was one other person you spent a lot of time with.

peter parker.

you were basically the same age as him, both the same generation and shared the exact same humour. your friendship with peter was nothing like the ones you possessed with the other, older avengers.

your texts between each other consisted of memes and spammed word vomit. peter spilled his secrets and his fears to you while you comforted him and listened. he didn’t see you any differently despite being aware of your hidden relation to his boss, respecting you enough to never bring it up.

there were times where you’d catch him staring at you for too long or you’d accidentally touch each other and he’d linger… just a little bit. you only brushed it off that he was clingy and touch starved.

alas, peter knew sometimes you would feel embarrassed of the fact you were tony’s kid especially when tony never liked to share details about himself to his coworkers. a few of them had been told too but treated you like you weren’t the daughter of one of the most narcissistic men they knew.

another reason you got along well with everyone. so much that you had been silently promoted to aiding in missions and able to train side by side with peter and the rest of the avengers.

when sparing with peter, he’d purposefully sweep your legs out from under you, only to collect your wrist in both of his hands and slam them to the mat, his thighs locked on either side of your hips and his face unnecessarily lowered to hover over yours.

you found most of your sessions under him and while it frustrated you that he beat you every single time, you couldn’t help but notice the look on peter’s face when he did trap you to the floor.

you also noticed how as soon as he got off of you, peter was quick to end the sparring match- practically running out of the gym, his pace fast and posture hunched over. maybe peter was just weird in general?

but he couldn’t help it. seeing you under him, looking vulnerable and so damn pretty like that… his cock swelled with blood and his balls ached with the need to breed you. every. single. time.

the feeling didn’t go away, even after may had died. despite the fact peter had become a mess, you were right there, picking up the pieces that used to be him and taping them back together as best as you could.

that’s when tony had made the executive decision to take peter in. he reasoned that he was already like a father figure to the poor boy, nothing would change. tony obviously had a soft spot for him.

at least, that’s what he said to convince you. and you couldn’t turn peter away when everyone he loved was no longer in his life.

so he moved into the building, took all of his belongings and clothes with him. peter put university on hold while he figured things out. you were understanding and tony- supportive. that’s when he could see the resemblance between you two. you both cared for him. and he suggested to become apart of your family.

of course tony took it the wrong way and surprised peter by adopting him, not even telling you beforehand. you were both speechless but for different reasons.

when peter stroked his leaking dick at night, giving into his fantasies of pushing your head down and dragging his red sensitive tip across your slit and deep inside your soaked walls; he could do so freely. now? now he couldn’t.

he couldn’t have you the way he wanted. peter was definitely frustrated at the new dynamic between you and him but he found it as an excuse to freely walk into your room whenever he wanted. why not? he was your step brother now.

it creeped you out at first, how he would sometimes silently slip past your doorway and make himself at home, occasionally starting up random conversations as if he hadn’t done anything wrong.

eventually you got used to it. sometimes leaving your room to grab a snack or go to the bathroom. you could trust peter not to break anything. he was such a sweet and quiet guy.

and that’s when he would take his chance, going through your drawers and stealing little things of yours.

the sheer panties your best friend from high school had given you for your birthday. a photo of you in a revealing bikini from a trip to the beach when you used to live with your mom. one of the many bottles of body spray that littered your vanity. lotion that you used all the time. another pair of underwear that were less appealing but you wore all the time when you wanted to dress comfortably.

peter even started to lay on your bed on his stomach as soon as you left the room and grind his hips down, rubbing his jean clad bulge against the soft blanket you slept under. he’d stick his face down into your pillow and hump your mattress, veiny hands fisting any fabric he could grab and pulling it closer to his nose, smelling you while he thought of raw dogging your puffy pussy in your own bed.

just when he was on the verge of cumming in his pants, you’d always walk in and he’d feign innocence. pretending he wasn’t just dry humping your bed like a greedy rabbit. you were never the wiser.

you noticed certain things of yours started to go missing little by little until you barely had things to wear or use. you assumed it was the dryer eating your entire wardrobe so you complained to tony and he gave you his card to buy an entire new one.

he didn’t want you going alone though so he made peter go with you. you weren’t entirely thrilled since had he had been glued to your hip almost constantly as of recently but you went along with it, knowing that if you didn’t agree, tony wouldn’t let you go at all.

so when you get to the small shop on the busy corner, peter wouldn’t stop suggesting pieces for you to buy or even try on. you found that they were either way too revealing or borderline inappropriate for him to request. but he wouldn’t stop insisting, going as far as to shove a whole armful of things into you and pushing you to the changing room very eagerly.

“i’m just trying to help.” he told you before closing the door behind you once you fully stepped inside. it didn’t help that every two minutes he’d knock and ask if you had finished, that he wanted to see what they looked like on you.

you obliged, feeling a bit uncomfortable. you were exposed- not to mention in front of peter. your step brother.

you left the small room in the first thing he had shown you, a size too small t-shirt and extremely tiny booty shorts. but peter seemed to hype you up, smiling enthusiastically. his eyes held a glossed over look while his gaze slowly went down your body, taking in how your skin would stick out and show where it probably shouldn’t be.

“okay turn around.” he spoke abruptly, making your face twist into one of uncertainty. he shook his head and merely spoke down to you like you were playing dumb; “come on, i just wanna see what the back looks like.”

huffing out a sigh, you reluctantly shifted your weight and spun to show your backside.

when you did though- you swore you heard a camera clicking but when you whipped your head around to catch whoever had taken your picture without consent.. no one was there.

“peter..?” you meekly stared around, looking for the boy but he had disappeared as if in thin air. the only other people you saw were two employees reorganizing hangers across the wall.

your stomach twisted and you shrunk back into the changing room, not bothering to try the other pieces on and put your own clothes back on, feeling anxious that someone was watching you.

as soon as you went to open the door, peter was standing right in front of the entrance- making you jump and drop the large pile of things you were holding.

“woah, sis. calm down. it’s just me.” he laughed it off, giving you that boyish smile, peter’s eyes never leaving yours. you felt your face flush and apologized- pushing past him to put the exposing clothes back on the racks where he had gotten them from.

ever since then, you felt violated. you avoided peter. you started to ask FRIDAY to lock your door with an access code. you weren’t entirely sure it had been him but he was starting to freak you out even after that day.

you’d wake up multiple nights in a row, in a cold sweat, absolutely sure you could feel someone else had been inside your room besides yourself.

you’d place your hoodie down on the couch to grab a drink, coming back to find it gone.

peter would stay up for two hours after you went to bed, wanting to be certain you had fallen asleep before typing in the access code to your room- watching you put it in while he stuck to the ceiling one day.

he’d quietly shuffle in and see your phone beside your pillow and your face scrunched up while you dreamt. he’d whisper your name just to double check then crept over to your bed, hovering down to stare.

the next thing he knew, he was fucking hard- just by looking at you. that’s what you did to him and you didn’t even know it. his step sister always teasing him, purposefully taunting him with something that was forbidden for peter.

but he bottled up his frustration, struggling to push down his jeans as silently as possible. the slight sound of denim rubbing against itself was drowned out as his pants clung just below his knees. he hadn’t worn a belt for this very reason. wanted easy access while keeping you unaware of his presence.

peter bit his lip when his warm palm finally made contact with his cock, the angry tip already leaking and spilling down to weave through his fingers. “mmshit..” he choked out, careful not to be too loud when he started to stroke himself. his eyes were locked onto your sleeping face, his tongue darting out to drag across his bottom lip with desire. desire for you.

since he couldn’t have you, this was the best he could do, flicking his wrist to increase the speed that his hand jerked his dick, his cheeks wearing a dark flush the faster he went.

“yeah.. wanna breed my lil’sis.. make you mine, baby..” peter muttered, leaning forward so that his cock was right beside the pillow, the back of his hand almost ghosting your nose every time he moved up the entirety of his throbbing length.

he had only touched himself above you one other time but every single night since he saw how your ass looked in those small shorts- he couldn’t help but visit you while you were unconscious, whispering about how badly he wanted to feel your pretty cunt wrapped around his dick, about how good he bets you taste. but he was growing restless, as he confided in your passed out form- he needed more.

which lead to two nights ago. peter couldn’t help but jack off while sitting at the chair in front of your desk in the corner, listening to your soft breaths, one your previously used panties stuffed into his mouth to keep himself quiet - forcing peter to spurt cum all over his hand and bare thighs.

tonight was no different but he was feeling bolder, the aggressive animalistic demand his mind screamed at him to paint your face and mark you as his. to see how hot you looked while his warm sticky seed dripped down your lips and chin and onto your sheets, ruining them. ruining you.

a low groan rumbled in his chest when you shifted, your face now just under his slapping balls. peter almost came at the sight of your unconscious submission, your eyes fluttering and your lips just barely parted. ready to swallow the load he could feel about to explode from his swollen cock head.

his other hand not gripping his dick, shot out to claw at your head board to steady himself from falling on top of you, his body tingling with pure heat. he could barely stand, his knees buckling and the strong muscles in his pale thighs rippling with the effort to maintain his stance.

he was sure he could last another few minutes but when you moved your arms under your blanket, the sudden action pulled it down, revealing the loose tank top you had chosen to wear to bed.

peter’s eyes flitted down to your tits, and upon noticing you hadn’t worn a bra, your nipples stiff and pressing into the fabric- he let out a loud moan, massive ropes of white cum pouring out of his cock.

a few spurts hit your bare collarbones, your chest, the soft blanket draped over you and of course your pretty face. he watched as the thick goo caught on the tip of your nose and bottom lip- gravity causing it to run inside your mouth and down your cheeks onto the pillow.

“fuuuck.” peter cursed at the sight of his cum soaked step sister, all laid out for him.

when you felt something hot splatter your skin you flinched. it had made you stir. blinking your messy eyelids, trying to get whatever it was out of your eyes- you were fully awakened when you heard that familiar click of a camera.

rising your hand up to drag your numb fingers across your face, whatever was on it stuck to your digits and webbed between them. then you noticed it was also in your mouth so you leaned forward and let it drizzle out past your lips and land on your sheets. then you saw movement in the darkness and your unfocused gaze lifted to just barely be able to make out what it was. or who it was.

your body ran cold- you were first met with a cock that was still strikingly hard, leaking and pointing right at you, followed by hair framing the base of the shaft, accompanied by a small trail of the same hair up to below his bellybutton.. peter’s face above it all.

he lowered his phone with clouded eyes, panting heavily and cheeks flushed. his eyes on you.

“…pete?”

[seduzist]

pov: you’re dating loser!peter parker

pairing: loser! peter x reader

warnings: none!! just pure fluff.

[maivolpe]

Peter Parker x female!reader (established relationship)

Imagine if Peter finally brought his gf to the tower

Everyone would be so happy for Peter, and tony would give her wanrjngs ofc

this is an alternate universe where the events of civil war never happened, but tony still called peter in. and let’s not talk about how i’m over a year late… life caught up to me. if you’ve stuck around, i appreciate you! thank you for requesting ♡

･｡ﾟ: ∘◦☾◦∘｡ﾟ.

pairing: mcu!peter parker x reader cw: mentions of anxiety, mentions of alcohol, threats wc: 1.4k

“honey, why are you fidgeting?” peter asked, gently grasping your fingers to keep you from pulling on the hem of your sweater.

you sighed, giving his hands a small squeeze. "i'm scared, pete. they're a huge part of your life. what if they don't like me?"

he laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "i promise they'll love you, bug. how could they not?"

you managed a wobbly smile, and concern clouded peter's face. "how about this, honey? if they don't like you, i'll quit. i'll pack everything up and leave. we're a package deal, yeah?"

he extended his pinky, prodding yours.

"no, that's so stupid. this is- you love everything about them, and this job. i could never make you do that."

peter wrapped his pinky around yours and grinned. "good, because it's not going to happen."

a small ding preceded the elevator slowing to a stop, and your heart once again raced. you knew it was stupid, you knew they wouldn't be anything but kind to you. and yet, the same little voice that told you peter was too good for you was talking.

it didn't have much time, however, because the elevator doors slid open.

in front of you stood a massive workshop, high-tech equipment stuffed in every corner. screens mounted high on the walls blinked with all sorts of blueprints, while robots scuttled across the ground and holograms of iron man suits twirled through the air. both vintage and sports cars lined the back wall, shelves stuffed with funnels, jacks, and batteries. old versions of iron man suits stood displayed across the workshop, all the way from the silver mark two to the flashy mark forty-five.

the real iron man was bent over a table saw in the middle of the workshop. he was clad in a ragged metallica shirt, grease smeared across his face as he ran a sheet of cherry-red metal over the blade. sparks danced up into the air at the contact, just missing his face.

“hey, mr. stark!”

the screech of the saw stopped, though tony didn't look up from his work. a scrap of metal clattered to the floor, and you cringed at the sound.

“hey, pete,” he said.

it was silent for a moment, and peter cleared his throat. tony’s gaze flicked toward you, and you offered him an awkward wave. his eyes widened.

“well jesus, spider-boy, you didn’t tell me you were bringing a lady!”

“sorry,” peter laughed. “this is mr. stark. mr. stark, this is…”

"oh, she needs no introduction!"

he leapt up from his desk, tossing his plastic safety glasses to the side before pulling you into an embrace. he smelled like smoke, and your eyes stung with it.

"nice to meet you, mr. stark," you said, muffled against the fabric of his t-shirt.

"nice to meet you, kiddo." tony leaned in close to your ear to whisper. "you hurt him, we hurt you."

you blinked. "um-"

"kidding, i'm kidding. but seriously," he said, straightening up and walking back to his saw. "don't try it."

"i-i won't."

peter shot tony a glare before taking your hand in his. "come on, bug, let's go meet the rest."

"bug? that's adorable. think i should try that on pepper?"

"shut up, mr. stark!"

peter led you across the floor, through a set of doors, and up a flight of stairs. when he ceased to hear your footsteps pattering behind him, he glanced back at you. you stood three or four steps down, mouth agape at the majesty of the space in front of you.

it was the floor of the avengers tower that you'd become accustomed to seeing, in the back of peter's selfies and facetime calls, but pictures didn't do it or its inhabitants justice. beautiful paintings were hung across the walls, antiquated weapons were illuminated in glass cases, and intricate centerpieces adorned a dark wooden dining table. bookshelves lined the hardwood floors, full of armor and games and magazines. light streamed in from frosted glass windows and glowed from lamps set in every corner.

the kitchen was just as impressive, overflowing with bowls of fresh fruit, all sorts of cutlery, and every cooking gadget you could dream of. some shelves were full of cookbooks and ingredients, others displaying china and cocktail glasses. the sleek silver appliances glinted in the sunlight, only compounding your overwhelming sense of just how expensive everything was.

the scarlet witch stood at the stove, stirring the contents of a pot that smelled heavenly. across the room, sprawled on an orange couch, was black widow. the opposite couch held sat captain america and the falcon, deep in conversation.

peter's voice echoed across the room when he spoke.

"hey, i, uh, brought you guys a friend."

every head turned, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. silence hung heavy in the air, and your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"well, don't stare the poor thing down," natasha said.

somehow, just like that, the tension was gone.

wanda smiled brightly from her spot in the kitchen, offering you a wave with her free hand. "i like your sweater!"

"thank you!"

steve rose to his feet and shook your hand firmly. "i hope tony didn't scare you too badly."

you chuckled. "no, he's just... a little intense."

natasha laughed, shifting to one side of the couch to make space for you. "that's a nice way of putting it."

you settled next to her gratefully, and she offered you a warm smile.

"he's going crazy because rhodey's not here to keep him in check," sam said.

"when does he get back?" peter asked. "i have an idea for a new attachment for his suit."

"he has a committee meeting in d.c.," natasha said. "he should be back in a week."

peter frowned. "why does he have to be gone for so long?"

"do not be upset that colonel rhodes has a job and you are unemployed," a new voice spoke from behind the couch.

you snickered at the betrayed look on peter's face.

the android floated around the corner, extending a vibranium hand. "i am vision."

you shook his hand. "nice to meet you."

peter didn't want to let the subject drop. "being spider-man is my job," he argued.

you saw your chance to tease him, and took it. "then where are those paychecks?"

peter's jaw dropped, and before you could protect yourself, he was lunging forward, fingers tickling under your shirt. you squealed and squirmed behind natasha, who stared daggers at your boyfriend until he backed down.

steve smiled. "i like you. you're good for the kid."

"yeah, he needs humbled sometimes," sam agreed.

the conversation continued around you, and while you didn't contribute much, they made sure to include you. you found you loved observing the avengers' dynamic, their quick banter and easy laughter captivating you. it felt like, well, a family.

wanda called to you from the kitchen, her voice pulling you out of your reverie. "i am making lunch, would you like a plate?"

you shook your head. "that's very kind, but you don't have to."

"no, i insist."

"trust her," sam offered. "she's a great cook."

you relented. "if you're sure, wanda, i'd love a plate."

everyone gathered at the kitchen table while wanda served up lunch. peter pulled a chair up next to you and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek.

"having fun?"

"so much," you smiled.

wanda had made dumplings, and they were indeed delicious. you were glad you had taken her up on her offer. they even seemed to sate peter's superhuman appetite- he sat back in his chair after only six.

tony passed through the kitchen, even dirtier than before, if that was possible. now a whole sleeve of his shirt was singed off. he grabbed a plate with stained fingers and loaded it with dumplings.

"these are great," he managed between bites.

"they're better if you chew them," steve mumured.

"hop off, old man. not like you could chew with those dentures anyways."

he finished his plate and set it on the table, grabbing a bottle of scotch from the shelf. natasha and steve exchanged looks while he poured himself a glass.

"underoos, do me a favor and bring your aunt over next."

he strutted out of the room before peter could let out an exasperated 'mr. stark!'

when you had finished your dumplings, peter cleared both of your plates and returned to your side.

"ready to go, baby?"

"pete, could we actually... stay a while?”

you swore you'd never seen peter as happy as he looked in that moment. he was positively beaming, eyes alight with pride.

"we can stay as long as you want, bug."

･｡ﾟ: ∘◦☾◦∘｡ﾟ.

ko-fi ♡

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

physics and english teacher love affair

pairing: ps5!peter parker x fem!reader

wc: 1.5k

warnings: none. squeaky clean, just happy fluff

summary: those two teachers that students are always interested in their relationship status.

A/N: guess this could be for any spidey, but i’m just really falling for ps5 peter and there’s like a hand full of fics for him. not fair!

masterlist / peter parker

working at the same high school with your boyfriend is harder than it looks. the two of you try to stay professional during schooling hours, not needing the staff or students in your business. but hearing miles tell you and peter, “people are very invested in your interactions,” made both of you realize you weren’t very good at keeping a low profile.

-

instance 1

“okay…jaime! your take on the dream sequence. what does it tell you?” looking to the male student near the back. he was dozing off a bit earlier so this was a wake-up call.

he floundered a bit, “uh, uh…the dream sequence…it’s a- a dream?” light giggles filled the classroom at the foolish answer.

a gentle sigh from your lips, “yes, jaime. but do you see any significance to our story?” being patient with him as he flipped through his book and packet, “uh…”

and before he could joke or stall, your door opened drawing all eyes to the popping in head. “sorry for interrupting,” peter apologized to the students then you. “

a wavering smile. “it’s fine. jaime,” the boy looked startled, “a few minutes to find an answer and then give me something. please.”

you looked over to peter again and waved him in. the door closed with a soft clink behind him, his steps thudded lightly against the linoleum tile. both of you exchanged delicate smiles as peter sat on the edge of your desk.

“what’s the occasion?” whispering low since his heightened hearing will pick you up. both of you tried to stay away from each other’s classrooms as much as possible, but the two of you were magnets, always attracted to each other.

peter shrugged, “nothing, just thought you would like to see me.” a playful tilt of his head.

a twitch of your lip, “and i thought we would only do that during our planning period.” subtly knocking your knuckles against his thigh. peter flashed a smile, “well, i also got you something, from our favorite bakery. if you want-“

“yes!” voice an excited yelp. the kids chattering came to a stop at your raised cry. you cleared your throat, “sorry. a few more minutes.” and they happily returned their gossip.

peter chuckled, “a little hurt you had more of a reaction for pastries than your awesome boyfriend.” you rolled your eyes, “well at work you’re my friendly co-worker.” “ew, gross.”

teeth biting into your bottom lip to stop a gleeful smile you made grabby hands for your treats. peter teasingly rolled his eyes while reaching into his backpack for your present. you had to hold your squeal in at the muffin and donut, mouth salivating at the sweet smell.

“i should head out. don’t want to stop your lesson.” making a move off your desk. you stopped him with a hand wrapped on his wrist, “wait, lean forward a bit.”

peter furrowed his brows as you urged him close, you ignored the dozen of eyes watching you both.

grabbing your lesson plan packet you covered both lower halves from curious eyes. “i love you. thank you for the sweets.” then blew peter an air kiss.

his cheeks pinked quickly and you cooed internally. peter sent a kiss back before swinging his bag onto his shoulders and waving goodbye to your students.

when he left the room you clapped your hands to signal order back. “okay, jaime. figure out an answer?”

“is mr. parker your boyfriend?” a girl, ashley, blurted out.

the class froze along with you. you took a moment to take stock of the abruptness before replying, “it’s rude to blurt out questions and second, no he isn’t.” heart cracking a little at the white lie, “but that’s none of your business, ashley.”

-

instance 2

the day before christmas break peter decided to play the class home alone. kids either watching the movie, chatting with friends, playing card games from out of nowhere, or just napping away the last hour of the school day.

peter and miles were sat at his desk, talking about the latest on spider-man. miles was in the middle of talking about a gang bust from the other night when multiple students said, “hi, mrs. l/n.”

peter and miles stopped talking to see you enter the classroom, waving to a few students who had seen you earlier in the day.

you walk up to peter’s cluttered desk, “hi boys.” stealing his rolling stool so you can join them. in the dark peter loop his right arm behind your back before pulling you in close, lips spreading into wide love struck smiles.

“how’s my best girl?”

a content sigh, “so excited for a week off. can’t wait to do coupley holiday stuff and also celebrate hanukkah with you. miles,” turning to the junior, “any plans with your time off?”

miles talked about how he was gonna visit hailey’s family for the first time. “really nervous, don’t want to mess things up.”

“you won’t, they’ll love you.” washing away his worries as peter’s fingers drummed on your waist.

“your great with parents and plus you’ve gotten a lot better at your asl. earn you brownie points.” peter affectionately punched miles’s bicep.

“what was may’s first impression on you?” miles turned the conversation around.

you perked up as the memory flashes to mind. you glance at peter and he has a look on his face, already knowing what you’ll say.

“well may opened the door and as i was introducing myself she interrupted with “oh! you must be y/n. peter can’t keep your name out his mouth for longer than two minutes. i’ve timed it. that boy is deeply in love with you, just don’t tell him i’ve said that, he’ll be a blubbering mess.” and i didn’t tell him until he said i love you first.”

peter tucked his chin to his chest hiding away his flushed cheeks while miles covered his laughter.

you carded fingers through peter’s growing hair before leaving a peck on his cheek. “i’m gonna pack my things then come back. enjoy your break miles.”

-

instance 3

“mr. parker and ms. l/n are definitely a thing.”

miles heard the charter from across the lunch room at the mention of your names. he tried to look distracted with his homework to keep listening in.

“and what’s your proof this time?” a boy asked the girl.

“well one, i saw them leaving together when i had to stay late to help mr. johnson. they were laughing and smiling in that love sick way. also could totally tell they wanted to hold hands when they kept bumping them. and second, i saw them at the subway station-“

“so you stalked them?” a girl interrupted the retelling.

the storyteller sighed, “no i just happen to take the subway, like most of new york does. anyway, i don’t take the same train as them but i walked past them and they were now holding hands and then…” taking a dramatic pause before almost squealing, “they kissed!”

a bunch of girls joined in the yells and a few boys were like “holy shit!” and others like “whatever.”

miles stopped listening and just smirked down at his homework ready to tell peter this news.

-

instance 4 the final

you know the nosey students are gonna have a field day if they spot the new jewelry on your finger. a huge milestone has been made on a simple thursday during spring break.

“okay class. welcome back! if anyone wants to share a quick story about their break just raise your hand.” a couple shot up at lightning speed and then some more slowly.

you squint your eyes while humming, “emma. what did you do?” she went on a quick spiel about visiting her mother’s family in atlanta, also how she managed to snag tickets for a spa concert at the box office.

“girl i’m jealous. i wish i could see sza. okay… jaden! what’d you do?” he said he just stayed in the city and worked, hung out with his friends on his days off.

“already getting a taste of adult life. well i’m glad you made time to relax. uh final one is… ashley. how did you spend your break?”

“oh, nothing special. i just have a question for you and the new ring on your finger.” a sneaky smile appeared, exactly what you wanted. she’s been the most observant on your relationship.

“you may ask.” folding your hands so the stone reflected a bit of light.

“did mr. parker propose? is he your fiancé now?” and most of the girls in the room were practically vibrating in anticipation.

you smiled down the ring, fiddling with the band. you looked up and said calmly, “yes. mr. parker is my fiancé.”

and you could bet that peter heard all the commotion of your room from down the hall, already preparing for nosey teens to ask him a similar question.

both of you were just glad to proudly say the other was yours.

turns out working at the same high school as your fiancé isn’t gonna be so bad after all.

-

[forever-ev]

Dad!peter having a tea party with his daughter

Requested by @ladycaramelswirl

°°°♡°°°☆°°°♡°°°☆°°°♡°°°☆°°°♡°°°☆°°°♡°°°

Charlotte toddles into your bedroom, grabbing onto Peter's thigh as he works at your shared desk. He glances down at her and lifts her into his lap.

"What's up, Charlie?" He asks, smoothing her unruly curls a bit.

"Go play princess tea party please, daddy. Mommy says she can't play because baby brother is hungry." She grabs his hands and plays with them while she stumbles through a response.

"Give me a minute to put this away and I'll meet you in the kitchen."

Peter places her down on the ground and she runs off to gather her toy tiaras and wands and everything needed to have her perfect princess tea party. A few minutes later Peter walks back over to you and Charlotte and gives you a kiss on the forehead.

"How you feelin'? I can refill your water and get you more snacks, I know breastfeeding always makes you thirsty." He says sympathetically, gently touching your son's sparce hair.

You sigh and hand him your water bottle, reaching for the remote to turn Tangled down a bit.

"Can you just wash this and get me one of the Gatorades?"

"Uh, I think we're out. Do you want some watered down Pedialyte?" He jokes.

You chuckle and nod, "Sure, I'll take some baby electrolytes."

"Great." Peter chuckles

He hands you back your cup now filled up and walks over to Charlotte.

"Alright, Lottie, I'm ready." He crouches down and sits in a tiny chair at one side of the miniature table.

Charlotte picks up a plastic crown with blue fake jewels on it and places it on Peter and puts a pink one on herself.

"Princess daddy." She nods and he holds back a laugh.

"Princess daddy? I thought I was the king."

"Um, no. I said princess tea party not king party." She shakes her head like she's dissapointed.

"Okay, Princess Charlotte May." He bows, his crown sliding down.

Charlotte adjusts Peter's crown and places a toy cookie and tea cup on his plate.

"Oh, Princess daddy, here's your cutlery."

"Wow, your highness, that's a fancy word." He pretends to sip from the toy cup.

"Silly, daddy, I didn't give you your tea yet." She pretends to pour tea into his cup from a toy teapot.

"Oh, yes, thank you, your grace." He nods.

Just as he begins to drink the imaginary tea, Charlotte interjects.

"Uh, actually that's poison." She exclaims.

Peter gasps and grasps at his chest.

"Noooo, how could you do this to the one and only princess daddy?"

"Because I want to be the real princess." She asserts, twisting her fake pearl necklace.

"But what about your brother?" Peter gasps falling onto the floor.

"Oh, I can't poison him. He just a baby, silly." She cackles.

"Tell mommy I still love her." He groans.

Your daughter laughs again, falling too to hug him.

"Okay, game all done, daddy." She grins.

He stands up then picks her up, throwing her into the air and catching her. Charlotte squeals with laughter as he plops her down onto the couch.

"Can I finish the thing I was working on while you watch that and I'll take you and the baby to the park after?" Peter asks.

Charlotte nods and you lean your head up for a quick kiss before he goes off to finish mending his suit.

°°°♡°°°☆°°°♡°°°☆°°°♡°°°☆°°°♡°°°☆°°°♡°°°

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐀 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨'𝐬 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐰

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → angst, fluff, bickering

Summary → Peter Parker and Y/N, classmates with clashing views on Spider-Man, constantly bicker until they unexpectedly start dating. When Y/N discovers Peter’s secret, their relationship is tested, leading to love, trust, and acceptance.

You sat at your usual lunch table, picking at the corner of your sandwich. MJ was engrossed in her sketchbook, adding tiny details to a scene that only made sense to her. Ned was, as usual, scrolling through some Reddit thread about Star Wars theories. And then there was Peter, sitting directly across from you, stealing glances at you between bites of his apple.

Peter Parker. Your classmate. MJ’s friend. By default, your friend. Except you weren’t sure “friend” was the right word when all you ever did was argue.

It all started a month ago.

You had been lamenting over the state of your mom’s flower shop—crushed display racks, smashed windows, and shattered pots after a Spider-Man fight. You weren’t exactly his biggest fan before, but that incident sealed the deal. Since then, any mention of Spider-Man sent you into a tirade, and Peter, for reasons unknown to you, always felt the need to defend him.

“Y’know, I don’t get why you hate him so much,” Peter started, leaning forward on the table. “He’s literally out there saving the city.”

“Oh, please,” you snapped, glaring at him. “Saving the city? More like destroying it in the process.”

MJ smirked but didn’t look up from her sketchbook. She always found these debates amusing.

“He’s trying his best!” Peter argued, raising his hands defensively. “It’s not like he plans to wreck things. Do you know how hard it is to fight a supervillain while keeping everything intact? ”

“I don’t care how hard it is, Peter. He’s supposed to be a superhero. If he’s going to throw someone into a building, maybe pick one that’s already abandoned!”

“Buildings aren’t labeled ‘abandoned,’ Y/N!” Peter shot back, his voice rising slightly.

“And who asked you to be Spider-Man’s PR guy?” You retorted, crossing your arms.

“Someone has to defend him against unreasonable critics!” Peter huffed, his cheeks flushing.

Ned let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair. “Here we go again.”

“Okay, but seriously,” Peter continued, pointing a finger at you. “You’re ignoring all the good he does. What about the times he’s saved people? The bank robberies he’s stopped? The kids he’s rescued from burning buildings?”

“Yeah, and what about the innocent people he’s hurt in the process?” You fired back. “My mom’s flower shop was destroyed, Peter. Destroyed! And all he did was yell, ‘Sorry!’ like that would magically pay for everything.”

Peter winced at that, and for a brief moment, you thought you’d won. But then he leaned forward, his brown eyes narrowing.

“Well, maybe if you knew the first thing about being a hero, you’d understand that sometimes sacrifices have to be made!”

“Sacrifices? Oh, so now my mom’s livelihood is a sacrifice?”

MJ finally looked up, raising an eyebrow at the two of you. “You guys do know you sound like an old married couple, right?”

“WHAT?” You and Peter shouted in unison, your faces burning.

Ned chuckled. “I mean, she’s not wrong. The bickering, the tension… it’s classic rom-com material.”

“There’s no tension!” Peter exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly.

“Yeah, because there’s no romance!” You added, glaring at him.

MJ smirked knowingly and returned to her sketchbook. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

---

Later that day, as you packed up your books after class, Peter approached you, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

“Hey,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck.

“What now? You want another Spider-Man defense speech?” You asked, not bothering to hide the annoyance in your tone.

“No, uh… not that,” he said quickly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

That caught you off guard. “Sorry? For what?”

“For yelling at you earlier,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “I didn’t mean to downplay what happened to your mom’s shop. That sucks, and you have every right to be mad.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond. “Oh… um, thanks, I guess?”

Peter smiled awkwardly, and for a moment, you saw a side of him you hadn’t noticed before—genuine, kind, and a little shy.

“Anyway,” he said, stepping back, “I just thought you should know that… Spider-Man would probably feel awful about what happened. If he knew, I mean.”

You frowned, puzzled by his choice of words. “Yeah, well… too little, too late.”

Peter nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he walked away.

As you watched him leave, a strange thought crossed your mind. Why did he care so much about what you thought of Spider-Man?

And why did his apology make your chest feel weirdly warm?

---

Over the next few weeks, your heated arguments with Peter began to mellow out. Sure, you still disagreed on Spider-Man—he’d throw in a sly comment about his heroics, and you’d roll your eyes and retort with something snarky—but the intensity had dulled. MJ even joked that you two were “maturing,” though Ned claimed it was just because you were running out of insults.

Somehow, in the midst of it all, you found yourself… enjoying Peter’s company. He was annoyingly persistent, yes, but he was also witty, kind, and, admittedly, kind of cute when he got flustered.

You weren’t sure when the dynamic shifted, but it became clear one sunny afternoon in the cafeteria.

---

“You’re telling me Spider-Man doesn’t do anything for the city?” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow as he took a sip of his chocolate milk.

“I’m saying he does some things,” you admitted, stabbing your fork into your pasta. “But he could learn to be a little more considerate. Not everything is about showing off with a backflip mid-fight.”

Peter nearly choked on his drink. “A backflip mid-fight? Are you serious right now?”

“It’s true!” You insisted, laughing despite yourself. “What, does he think the villains will be so impressed they’ll just surrender?”

Peter opened his mouth to respond, but then he stopped, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you shot back, grinning.

Across the table, MJ and Ned exchanged knowing glances.

“Okay,” Ned interrupted, leaning forward. “This is officially weird. When did you two stop hating each other?”

“We never hated each other,” Peter said quickly, his ears turning red.

You tilted your head, smirking. “Yeah, Peter’s more like… a really annoying little brother.”

Peter scoffed. “Little brother? I’m literally older than you.”

“By, what, four months?”

“Still counts,” he retorted, but his smile softened the blow.

---

A few days later, as you packed your books into your bag after chemistry class, Peter lingered by the door.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant.

“Hey, Peter,” you replied, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “What’s up?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit you’d come to recognize. “So, um… I was wondering if you wanted to, uh, grab coffee or something. W-With me. Like… like a date?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “A date?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, his cheeks flushing. “I mean, I know we argue a lot, but I also think you’re really smart and funny and—”

“Peter,” you interrupted, smiling. “I’d love to.”

He blinked. “Wait… really?”

“Yes, really,” you said, laughing. “But if we’re going on a date, you better not spend the whole time defending Spider-Man.”

Peter grinned, his confidence returning. “Deal. As long as you don’t spend the whole time calling him a diva.”

“No promises on that,” you teased, brushing past him as you walked toward the door. “Pick me up at seven?”

“Seven,” he repeated, nodding like an eager puppy.

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe Peter Parker wasn’t so bad after all.

---

Peter had been the perfect boyfriend for the past six months—sweet, caring, and thoughtful in every way. He always seemed to know how to make you smile, whether it was sneaking your favorite snacks into your bag or staying up late on FaceTime to help you with homework.

Today, you wanted to return the favor. With his favorite brownies in hand, you headed to his apartment, excited to surprise him

When Aunt May opened the door, her warm smile immediately made you feel welcome. “Y/N! What a surprise,” she said, stepping aside to let you come in.

“I brought brownies for him.” You said with a smile.

“Oh, he'll love those. Peter’s in his room,” she said, drying her hands on a dish towel. “He’ll love that you came.”

“Thanks, Aunt May,” you said, your excitement bubbling as you made your way down the hallway to his bedroom.

Without knocking, you pushed it open. “Hey, Peter—”

The words caught in your throat.

Peter stood in the middle of his room, his back to you. He was peeling a red and blue suit halfway down his body, revealing a torso covered in bruises and cuts. The mask lay discarded on the bed.

Spider-Man.

Peter's Spider-Man.

It was like the air had been sucked out of the room. You froze in place, your mind racing.

Peter turned at the sound of your voice, his eyes going wide with panic. “Y/N!”

Before you could react, he darted forward, grabbing your hand and pulling you inside. He shut the door behind you and leaned against it, as if trying to block out the world.

“Baby, hey,” he said quickly, his hands gently cupping your face. “Look at me. Y/N, please. Just breathe, okay?”

Your chest tightened. Words wouldn’t come. It all made sense now—why he defended Spider-Man so passionately, why he limped sometimes, why he was late or distracted on dates.

“Y-You’re… Spider-Man?” You finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Peter winced, his hands falling to his sides. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly.

Your heart sank. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time?”

“No, I—I wasn’t lying,” Peter stammered, his voice laced with desperation. “I just… I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought… I thought you’d hate me.”

“Hate you?” You repeated, your voice rising. “Peter, why would I hate you?”

He hesitated, his brown eyes searching yours. “Because… you hate Spider-Man.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. “That’s why you didn’t tell me? Because you thought I’d hate you?”

Peter nodded, his shoulders slumping. “I didn’t want to lose you, Y/N. You’ve always been so… so vocal about how much you don’t like Spider-Man. I thought if you knew, you’d look at me differently. That you’d leave.”

You stared at him, your emotions spiraling—anger, betrayal, confusion, worry. “Peter, I hated Spider-Man because of what happened to my mom’s shop. But you—you’re not just Spider-Man. You’re Peter. How could you think I’d leave you?”

“Because I’ve seen the way you talk about him—about me,” he said softly, his voice breaking. “I thought… if you knew, it would change everything.”

You took a shaky breath, your chest tight with conflicting emotions. “Peter, you lied to me. You hid a huge part of your life from me. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

“I know,” he said, his voice thick with guilt. “I know I messed up. I should’ve told you. But I was scared, Y/N. Scared that I’d lose you, and I couldn’t handle that.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You could see the fear in his eyes, the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide.

“I don’t know how to feel right now,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I’m mad at you, Peter. But I’m also… worried. You’re out there risking your life every day, and I didn’t even know. I don’t know if I can handle that.”

Peter stepped closer, his hands hovering near yours. “I get it. I do. And if you need time to figure things out, I’ll give you all the time in the world. Just… please don’t walk away. Please.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him—the boy you loved, the hero you’d misunderstood. “I need to think,” you said quietly.

Peter nodded, his expression pained but understanding. “Okay,” he whispered.

You turned and left the room, your heart heavy with the weight of everything you’d just learned.

As you stepped out into the cool evening air, one thought echoed in your mind: You loved Peter Parker, but could you love Spider-Man, too?

---

The walk home was a blur. Your mind replayed the scene in Peter’s room over and over—his bruised body, the half-on Spider-Man suit, the raw fear in his eyes as he begged you not to hate him. You couldn’t decide what hurt more: that he’d kept such a massive secret from you or that he genuinely believed you’d leave him for it.

The next few days were agonizing. Peter gave you space, just as he promised, but it didn’t stop the text notifications from lighting up your phone.

Peter: I’m sorry.

Peter: Please let me explain everything. I owe you that.

Peter: I miss you.

Peter: I love you.

Each message was harder to read than the last. You missed him, too. But every time you thought about reaching out, doubt crept in. Could you handle being with someone who risked his life every day? Could you handle knowing the person you loved might not come home one night?

By the third day, MJ cornered you at lunch.

“Alright, spill,” she said, sliding into the seat next to you.

You blinked at her, feigning innocence. “Spill what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N,” she said, crossing her arms. “Peter’s been moping around like a kicked puppy, and you’ve been weirdly quiet. What happened?”

You hesitated, unsure if Peter had told MJ the truth about being Spider-Man. But the knowing look in her eyes answered your unspoken question.

“You know, don’t you?” You asked softly.

MJ slowy nodded. “I’ve known for a while. He’s terrible at keeping secrets.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “Yeah, except from me.”

MJ sighed, resting a hand on your arm. “Look, I get why you’re upset. But Peter’s not a bad guy. He didn’t tell you because he was scared. He’s always scared when it comes to you.”

“Scared of what?” You asked, your voice cracking.

“Of losing you,” MJ said simply. “He thinks you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, Y/N. And he’s terrified that being Spider-Man will ruin that.”

Your chest tightened. You’d spent so much time feeling hurt and betrayed that you hadn’t stopped to think about how much Peter must have struggled with his decision.

---

That evening, you found yourself standing outside Peter’s apartment. You didn’t even remember deciding to come—it was like your feet had a mind of their own.

Aunt May opened the door, her expression lighting up when she saw you. “Y/N! Oh, thank goodness. Peter’s been mopping around since the day you left. It feels like a gloomy cloud in here.”

You managed a small smile. “Is he home?”

She nodded, stepping aside. “He’s in his room. Go on.”

Your heart pounded as you stopped in front of his door. This time, you knocked.

“Come in,” Peter called, his voice muffled.

You pushed the door open and stepped inside. Peter was sitting at his desk, his back to you, but he froze when he saw you in the reflection of his computer screen.

“Y/N,” he breathed, turning to face you. His eyes were tired, his hair messier than usual, and there was a bruise on his cheek that hadn’t been there before.

“Hey,” you said softly, closing the door behind you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then Peter stood, his hands fidgeting nervously. “I—I didn’t think you’d come back.”

“I needed time,” you admitted. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Peter’s shoulders sagged in relief, but his eyes were still filled with uncertainty. “Are you… okay?”

“No,” you said honestly. “I’m still upset. You kept something huge from me, Peter. I feel like I don’t even know you.”

“You do know me,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “Spider-Man is just… something I do. But Peter Parker? The guy who loves brownies and terrible science jokes and can’t go a day without thinking about you? That’s me. That’s who I am.”

Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I’m scared, Peter. Every time you put on that suit, you’re risking your life. How am I supposed to be okay with that?”

Peter reached for your hands, his touch gentle but firm. “I can’t promise I’ll always be safe. But I can promise I’ll do everything I can to come back to you. You’re the reason I fight so hard, Y/N. You make me want to be better.”

Your heart ached at the sincerity in his voice. He wasn’t perfect, but he was Peter—the boy you fell in love with.

“I’m still mad,” you said, your voice wavering.

Peter gave you a small, tentative smile. “I can live with that. As long as you’re still here.”

You let out a shaky laugh, finally letting a tear slip down your cheek. “You’re lucky I love you, Parker.”

Relief flooded his face as he pulled you into a hug, holding you like he was afraid you’d disappear. “I love you, too. So much.”

You buried your face in his chest, the familiar warmth of his embrace grounding you. For better or worse, you were in this together.

And for now, that was enough.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[mintyys-blog]

CROSSED A LINE— peter parker x reader

WARNINGS: smut

The night starts like any other.

Music hums through the apartment, low and familiar. Laughter echoes off the walls, warm and easy. You’re curled into the corner of the couch, legs tucked beneath you, a drink in hand. Peter is beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushes against yours, the warmth of him steady and comforting.

You’ve done this a thousand times—movie nights that turn into long, rambling conversations, confessions made under the safety of half-light and shared jokes. It’s always been easy with Peter. Safe.

Best friends. That’s what you are. That’s what you’ve always been.

But lately, something’s been shifting. The glances last a little longer, the touches linger. You dance around the edges of something heavier, something that feels a little too much like more. But neither of you dares to step over the line.

So you stay where it’s safe. You stay where it’s familiar.

Until tonight.

Maybe it’s the drinks. Maybe it’s the low hum of vulnerability settling between you, thick and inescapable. Maybe it’s the way Peter looks at you, like you’re something he can’t have but wants anyway.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you say quietly, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Your voice is almost swallowed by the music, but Peter hears you. You know he does.

“You won’t,” he says, but there’s something in his voice—hesitation, uncertainty. Like he doesn’t quite believe it himself.

You look at him, studying his face. The way his eyes flick to your lips, the way his breath catches for just a second too long. You wonder how long you’ve been pretending. How long you’ve been lying to yourself.

“I mean it,” you whisper, and your throat feels tight. “I can’t lose you, Peter.”

His eyes darken, but his voice is softer this time. “You won’t.”

The silence between you grows heavy, thick with everything you’re not saying.

And then, maybe it’s you. Maybe it’s him. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Because someone leaned in, and someone didn’t pull away.

The first kiss was hesitant, careful. A question. The second was an answer.

And then it was a blur—hands in hair, fingers tracing skin, breathless whispers that sounded too much like need, too much like finally. They stumbled to your bedroom, clothes left in a trail behind them, and everything felt like falling and flying all at once.

It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t soft. It was years of tension crashing into one night, years of wanting spilling over in messy, breathless moments.

As you looked up at him, your eyes met, and for a moment, the room stopped spinning. You felt a jolt of attraction, and Peter's eyes seemed to burn with the same desire. Without a word, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, gentle kiss.

You melted into the kiss, your hands wrapping around his neck as he deepened the kiss. The room spun around you, but you didn't care— all that mattered was the feeling of Peter's lips on yours, his tongue tangling with yours.

As the kiss broke, Peter pulled back, his eyes gleaming with desire. But for a moment, he hesitated, his brow furrowed in concern. "Maybe we should slow down," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding in your ears. "I don't want to do anything you'll regret in the morning."

You looked up at him, your eyes locking onto his, and smiled. "I want this," you said, your voice firm, despite the slurred words. "We should do this."

Peter's eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you thought he'd pull back, that he'd decide it was a bad idea. But then your shirt slipped, and your bare chest was exposed. Peter's eyes dropped, and his gaze lingered on your skin. It didn't take much convincing after that.

His hands reached out, touching your skin, playing with your nipples, sending shivers down your spine. You felt a rush of pleasure as his fingers trailed over your chest, his thumbs brushing against your nipples. You arched into his touch, your back bending as you pressed into his hands.

Peter's eyes never left yours, his gaze burning with desire. He leaned in, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate, intense kiss. The room spun around you, but you didn't care – all that mattered was the feeling of Peter's skin against yours, his lips on yours, and his hands touching you in all the right places.

As the night wore on, your clothes disappeared, piece by piece, until you were both tangled together on the bed. Peter's hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, and driving you crazy. You felt like you were drowning in pleasure, your senses overwhelmed by the feeling of his skin against yours.

The headboard slammed againist the wall as he thrusted in you. You moaned, while Peter whispered dirty nothings in your ear. Your legs wrapped around his waist, “Peter! Oh, like that!” You moaned and he continued to hit that spot. “Fuck I love you—“ he whispered, you almost didn’t catch it. You smiled againist his skin.

In the end, it was just the two of you, lost in the moment, lost in each other. The world outside melted away, and all that was left was the feeling of Peter's body against yours, his lips on your skin, and his hands touching you in all the right places.

That maybe they’d finally crossed the line for good.

⸻

But morning comes too soon.

You wake to cool sheets and an empty space beside you. Panic flutters in your chest, sharp and anxious. For a second, you wonder if it was a dream, if last night had been some whiskey-soaked fantasy. But then you find him.

He’s in the kitchen, standing by the window, coffee mug in hand. The light catches on the sharp edges of his face, his gaze distant, his shoulders tense.

“Morning,” you say, your voice rough with sleep, but it’s not just that. It’s uncertainty. It’s fear.

Peter glances at you, but the smile he offers is tight, almost forced. “Hey.”

And then nothing. Silence.

It stretches between you like a wound, raw and open.

You don’t know what to say. You don’t know how to ask what last night meant—if it meant anything at all. So you swallow it down. You shove the feeling aside, wrap yourself in the safety of pretending.

“It was… a mistake,” you say, and you force a laugh like it’s nothing. Like you didn’t feel like the world shifted beneath you just hours ago. “We were drunk. It didn’t mean anything.”

His jaw tenses. His fingers tighten around the mug. But he nods.

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice is quiet. Flat. “Just a mistake.”

And that’s it.

No questions. No explanations. No real goodbye.

Just coffee and silence and the ghost of last night lingering between you.

⸻

But pretending is harder than you thought it would be.

Peter stops coming over as much. His texts grow shorter, colder. Excuses come too easily. You tell yourself it’s fine. That it doesn’t matter. That this is better—safer.

But every time you see him, your heart aches.

Because nothing is the same.

Every glance lasts a little too long. Every brush of fingers burns too hot. Conversations are stilted, laughter forced, silences too loud.

And you hate it.

You hate the distance. You hate the silence. You hate that one night shattered something that had felt unbreakable.

But more than anything, you hate yourself for wanting it again.

For wanting him.

⸻

And maybe Peter feels the same.

Because there are moments—small, fleeting moments—when his mask slips. When his hand brushes against yours and stays just a little too long. When his gaze lingers on your lips, like he’s remembering the taste of you.

And then it’s gone. Because you’re both scared. Scared to ruin what’s left. Scared to lose each other completely.

So you stay in this limbo—half-friends, half-strangers. And you tell yourself it’s fine. You tell yourself you can live with this. That it’s better than losing him for good.

But every time he leaves without looking back, it feels a little like losing him anyway. And you don’t know how many more times you can survive that.

The days stretch long. The weeks even longer.

You try to fall back into routine, to pretend things are normal. You go out with friends, keep busy, push Peter to the edge of your mind. But it doesn’t work. Because every little thing reminds you of him. The coffee shop you used to visit, the street corner where he used to meet you after class, the songs that played on nights when laughter was easy and feelings were simpler.

But nothing is simple now.

And the worst part is knowing he’s doing the same thing—pretending. You see it in the way his eyes shift when you catch him staring. You hear it in the way his voice falters when he says he’s fine.

You both keep dancing around it, pretending the night you crossed the line never happened. But the tension lingers, sharp and heavy, in every glance, every brush of skin, every word that feels half-formed and unfinished.

You wonder if he regrets it.

You wonder if you should.

⸻

It happens again one night.

It’s late, and you’re both at a mutual friend’s apartment, laughing at some story that feels hollow in your chest. You shouldn’t have come. You knew he’d be here. You knew it would hurt. But maybe some part of you wanted that.

Peter’s standing across the room, laughing with someone, but his eyes flick to you. And it’s like a spark—instant and electric.

You don’t look away.

Neither does he.

It’s stupid, really. How one look can say so much. How it can ruin you.

Later, when most people have left and the buzz of the night has faded, you find him alone on the balcony. City lights stretch behind him, casting his face in sharp relief. His hands are braced on the railing, his shoulders tight.

You should walk away.

You don’t.

Instead, you step outside, the cold air biting against your skin, sharp and waking. You stand beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his body, but not enough to touch.

The silence hangs heavy.

Until you break it.

“This sucks,” you whisper, voice low, meant only for him.

Peter doesn’t look at you. He stares out at the city like it holds answers. “Yeah. It does.”

You swallow hard. “I miss you.”

His hands tighten against the railing. You see it, the way his jaw clenches. The way his breath comes a little shorter. “I’m still here.”

“No, you’re not,” you say, and your voice cracks. “Not really.”

He doesn’t respond. Not for a long time.

And when he finally does, his voice is quiet. Tired. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You didn’t.”

Peter turns then, and his eyes find yours, and for the first time in weeks, he looks at you—really looks at you. And it breaks you. Because you see it there, written across his face. Fear. Want. Regret.

“You said it was a mistake,” he says.

You hesitate. Because it’s easier to lie. It’s easier to stay safe. But you’re so tired of pretending.

“I lied.” The words are soft but heavy. True. “It wasn’t a mistake.”

The silence that follows is sharp. And you think maybe you’ve ruined everything.

But then Peter’s moving. Slowly, carefully. Like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he moves too fast. His hand finds yours where it rests on the railing, his fingers tentative. Testing.

You don’t pull away.

And it feels like breathing after being underwater too long.

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” he admits, his voice low. Honest. “I don’t know how to do this without ruining everything.”

You swallow hard, blinking against the tightness in your chest. “Maybe it’s already ruined.”

Maybe it is. Maybe you’re too far gone.

But maybe… maybe it’s not.

“Or maybe,” you whisper, “we just keep pretending until it doesn’t feel so terrifying anymore.”

Peter’s lips press into a line, and for a moment, you think he’ll let you go. That he’ll walk away and leave you with nothing but regret.

But instead, his fingers tighten around yours, grounding. Solid.

“No more pretending,” he says, his voice rough, shaking. “Not with you.”

⸻

The first kiss is slow, careful. It tastes like fear and hope and the ache of something long denied. His hand lifts to cradle your face, hesitant, like he’s waiting for you to pull away.

But you don’t.

You sink into him, into the warmth of his mouth, into the safety of his arms. And it feels different this time. More. Real.

When you finally break apart, your forehead rests against his, and you’re both breathing hard. Both holding on.

“I’m scared,” you admit, because it feels easier than pretending.

“Me too,” Peter whispers. “But I’d rather be scared with you than lose you.”

And maybe that’s enough. Maybe it’s not. But for now, it’s honest. It’s real. And you think maybe, just maybe, that’s a start.