#peter parker one-shot

[ddejavvu]

hi mei, i was curious if you could write about reader hiding like their childhood stuffed animal or comfort item like a baby blanket from maybe hotch or peter parker the first time they come over cuz they r embarrassed

this is not age regression shit, just to justify LOL

this works with any peter (hopefully) - the first time my bf came into my room i hurled my decrepit old childhood teddy bear into a corner and when he left i grabbed him like i'm so sorry man i couldn't let him know about you and me.

It's a testament to Peter's natural curiosity that you've been sprawled out over your bed for twenty minutes and he hasn't taken the bait and kissed you yet. Instead he's walking around your room inspecting every nook and cranny, peering into picture frames and opening drawers to paw through their contents.

"Peter!" You laugh, watching him duck beneath your desk, "The only things under there are cords; what are you doing?"

"I'm just looking around!" He insists, "My aunt always tells me you can find a lot out about a person by the space they keep."

"Oh? What are you finding out about me?"

"You have terrible cable management," His nose wrinkles as he ducks out from beneath your desk, "But that's better than what May says about me. She says my room tells her that I'm a pig person with no standards for cleanliness."

"Ouch," You snicker, "May doesn't hold back, does she?"

"Never," Peter grins, and does a final lap around your room before finally succumbing to the call of your mattress. He flattens himself out beside you and sighs, "Your room is boring."

"Hey!" You jab him in the ribs, "What do you mean?"

"I mean it's so clean!" He groans, rubbing his side, "There's no- there's no personality here, there's no trash on the desk, there's no clothes on the ground, there's no comfort blanket on the bed."

"I don't have a comfort blanket," Your cheeks rouge, and Peter zeroes in on it with an eagle's eye.

"Yes you do," He accuses, leaning up on one hand to tower over you, "Where is it? Show me!"

"It's not a blanket!" You insist, but you've implicated yourself, "It's- it's a teddy bear, okay? And I put him away because he's... fragile."

"Mhm. Fragile." Peter nods, "I'll be careful. Show me."

"He's kind of hard to get to."

"Show me."

"He's- uh, he's falling apart, too, not pretty to look at."

"Show me."

"He needs to be washed."

"Show me."

"No!"

"Come on!" Peter groans, "I'm not gonna make fun of you! I've got a stuffed animal too."

Your glare is perhaps made less effective by the way that your cheeks are on fire. Peter isn't deterred in the slightest, and the second you grumble, 'He's under the bed,' Peter's swinging himself over the side and jamming a hand beneath it.

"Got him," Peter laughs, peering at the plushie that he's dragged from beneath the bed, "This is your special one?"

"Mhm," You nod, watching warily as Peter surveys him, "Like I said, he's- he's kind of worn out and he needs to be washed, and-"

"He's great." Peter smiles, tucking the bear to his chest as he gazes fondly up at you, disarming the nerves bundled tightly in your chest, "You can meet mine the next time you come to my place."

[buckseb]

always hold you

pairings — tasm!peter parker x bff/gf!fem!reader

summary — in which, she needs her boyfriend's support more than anything else, after another particularly bad fight with her father.

word count — 2.6k.

warnings — a little bit of angst, use of pet-names [dove, sweetheart, darling, love, bug], reader calls peter pete, lots of fluff and this is basically just a hurt/comfort fic, protective/soft!peter, this is also sort of similar to my other peter fic (take as a part two that one), peter comforting reader, mentions of the reader's low self-esteem issues and it being explained a bit more, both physical and emotional abuse (manipulation and gaslighting, but not from peter), hugs and cuddles, forehead kisses, peter just taking care of the reader and showing her the love that her family refuses to do, gwen is in here for a second and being the comforting platonic best friend that she is to reader, peter comes off as a little harsh and scares reader a little bit but he makes up for it in the end.

notes — hi! so, this is really more of a vent fic. i know i've written in the past about dealing w/ a toxic family member and how i really enjoyed writing fics similar to my experiences with my favorite comfort characters to comfort the reader because that would usually help me deal with everything. but recently, the abuse that me, my mom, and my brother have been experiencing has become a lot more complicated and traumatizing for me to deal with. and things have only gotten worse. so, i figured i'd do another comforting fic like the other peter fic i wrote about going through that said abuse. i really just feel that it's important to not hide my true feelings and act like everything's fine behind a screen and i just want to be able to talk about this topic a lot more (especially in my writing), because it's so serious and not nearly talked about enough. but, nonetheless, if there's anyone out there that sees this and is a victim of abuse (whether it's emotional/mental or physical abuse, or both) please don't feel obligated to read this. i really don't want to trigger or upset anyone who's dealing with this situation in a very heavy and overwhelming way. just remember though, no matter what anyone says or does to you, you ARE strong and deserve the entire world. i love you all <3. anyways, i hope this makes up for the lack of posting anything (i've been really struggling with a lot, but i'm trying!). gif and divider creds to owner!

p.s., feedback is very much encouraged and appreciated <3.

other fic

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IT'S OBVIOUS NOW THAT SHE was stupid to think that he could change. it was even more stupid of her to go back to that apartment.

but, she's always been one to see the best in people — in her case, it's come to bite her in the ass.

even now, as she awaits her boyfriend to return home from his nightly patrol around the city, [y/n] knows that she should've known better.

she trembles as she sits on their shared bed, one of her legs bouncing anxiously — the thought of how peter will react to her foolish decision and the outcome from it is stressing her out, beyond words.

after how he responded the first time he found out about the truth about her father's cruelty and what she'd had to go through, she's worried of how he will react this time — it took almost everything in him to not confront her father, when he first found out.

she abruptly jumps when she hears the front door of the apartment shut softly.

a shaky breath leaves her lips, wondering if it's too late to try to hide the marks on her face and body.

but, when she hears him call out her name from the living room, she knows that it's too late — there's nothing she can do now to hide this.

and even if she wanted to for a split second, she promised peter she'd never lie to him again — after the last time, they promised each other that they'd never hide anything from the other again.

so, with another shaky breath, [y/n] sighs and hesitantly pulls the bedroom door open.

she keeps her head down, her hair falling around her face and covering the marks as she walks out and into the living room.

"sweetheart..." peter's voice trails off, eyes wide with shock and worry.

her breath catches in her throat as soon as she finally looks up at her boyfriend and sees the intense, protective look in his eyes.

"i—i'm sorry, peter." she whispers, voice too raspy to get any louder.

a flash of anger fills his eyes. "please... tell me that you didn't go back to him!" he exclaims in a quieter tone of voice as he pinches the corner of his eyes.

[y/n] flinches at the amount of frustration in his voice.

"peter, i—i'm sorry... " her voice trembles, guilt and regret quickly filling her — she just feels so stupid.

peter sighs, regretting taking his anger out on her.

his eyes immediately soften. "sweetheart, i'm sorry." he murmurs, before starting to walk over to her.

but, before he can reach her, she flinches and winces.

he stops short, freezing in place. more guilt fills him as he realizes that in this moment, she's scared of him.

"look... i—i know that i shouldn't have gone back," she whispers, tears clouding her eyes as she remembers the anger and hatred in her father's eyes.

peter's silent for a moment, waiting and giving her time to explain more — if she's able to.

"i'm... i'm so stupid, peter." she whispers, too ashamed to talk any louder.

peter's eyes widen in shock, not expecting that statement to come out of her mouth. "w—what? darling, that's not true."

this time, a tear falls down her cheek. "yes, i am. peter, who's stupid enough to choose to believe that their abusive, monster-of-a-father can change? me — it's me!"

the rambling and the self-loathing words coming out of his girlfriend's mouth becomes incredibly clear to peter as he walks over to her.

this time now, he doesn't hesitate to pull her into his chest as her voice becomes more trembling and wavering, "this is on me — it's my fault."

"it's okay now, love. don't blame yourself." he murmurs as she stops holding herself back and breaks into breathless sobs into his chest.

after a while, her crying slows and quiets down with her tears now dried on her cheeks.

she faces him and takes in a deep, calming breath as he wipes away the remaining tears away and looks over her bruises more intensely.

"i wanna kill him for doing this to you — again." the venom in his tone sends shivers through her spine — knowing what he would do to protect her comforts her.

but, on the other hand, she also knows that hurting her father isn't going to do anything for them or fix anything.

"no, peter. i know you don't mean that." she murmurs seriously.

an angry frown places itself over his lips. "no, i do."

she sighs. "okay, maybe you do. but, it won't fix anything and we both know that," she says, moving one of her fingers up to smooth out the crease in between his very furrowed eyebrows.

"it's okay now — i'm okay." she whispers seriously, grabbing his hand and rubbing soothing circles over his thumb.

you'd think from how she's comforting him that peter was the one that got hurt, not her — that's just how she is; she always finds herself taking care of everyone else, when she really should be taking care of herself.

maybe that's why they're such a good pair — while they're taking care of everyone else and their loved ones, they can trust the other to take care of the other.

"that's the thing, love. it's not okay! you shouldn't have to go out of your way to avoid him, just to protect yourself." he exclaims, ripping his hand out of hers and this time pacing around the living room with his hand now gripping his hair in frustration.

she sighs, frowning — this is exactly why she didn't want to tell him because she hates worrying him like this.

"it may not be fair, but if it's what i have to do to protect myself, then that's what i'll do — i should've kept doing that, instead of being an idiot to believe he'd change." she admits, shrugging, trying to play this all off, as if it's not that big of a deal.

"don't say that — don't do that!" he abruptly yells, turning around to face her defensively.

she flinches — once again — at the volume of his voice. "don't do what?" she asks meekly, her voice too soft.

he sighs in regret. "i'm sorry. i'm not trying to scare you." his eyes are downcast at the floor, before he looks up again, the guilt clear in his irises this time.

"it's okay, peter." she gulps, berating herself for some part of her being afraid of him — after all, she has no reason to fear him because he'd never intentionally hurt her.

"it's not. i shouldn't have gotten so angry — i'm not mad at you, i promise," he says in a much more quiet voice, sighing as he sees that look in her eyes — the one that she always has when she feels like a burden and feels like she should be apologizing.

"sweetheart, don't even think about apologizing. none of this is your fault."

[y/n] sighs in exasperation. "maybe it is. i'm the one that is always making a fool out of myself by believing in the best of everyone."

she sighs when a flash of irritation shows in his eyes. "what?" he whispers, his eyebrows furrowing together.

she takes in another breath when he walks over to her and hesitantly places his hands over her cheeks.

[y/n] sighs again.

"this isn't your fault, love. know that," he murmurs, his eyes searching hers for some kind of understanding. "please, tell me that you know that."

she sighs again, noticing the tears filling his eyes — it becomes incredibly clear to her how much the man in front of her cares about her.

"peter... " her own eyes fill with tears, even spilling to her cheeks.

without another thought, he gently wipes away her tears. "promise me that you understand me."

she sighs again. "y—yes, i understand," she murmurs, hating the hope that fills his eyes. "but, i just don't believe it."

he opens his mouth to object, but she interrupts him before he has the chance to say something, "i want to. but, i can't just shut off the way i feel — i was raised the way i was and with the trauma i have gotten along the way, i can't just forget it."

more tears fills his eyes, before he moves incredibly closer to her and brings her close to kiss her forehead. "knowing you want to believe it is good enough for me."

when he pulls away from her he smiles warmly at her. "let's go cuddle now, yeah?"

the softness in his voice makes her smile. "sounds like a plan, pete." she murmurs with a nod and leads him to their shared room.

once they're inside of their bedroom, [y/n] walks over to their shared bathroom, to change into her set of pajamas she set aside earlier in the day, after she had just gotten back from her father's home — she used to call it her home, but that all changed once her once-very-close relationship with her father changed.

after she changes and brushes her hair and teeth, she takes in a deep breath and tries to mentally prepare herself for the rest of the night.

but, when she shuts off the light and opens the door, she comes to realize that the bedroom is empty.

she walks out of the bathroom and looks around, her eyebrows quickly knitting together in confusion.

and just as she's about to call out her boyfriend's name, she hears hushed voices outside of the room.

with much more confusion filling her body, she slowly walks out of their room and into the living room, only to see peter standing at the door, talking at the door in a hushed voice.

"pete? is everything okay?" she asks as she walks up from behind him.

he jumps a little in surprise, before motioning towards the door.

the blond hair of their current guest surprises her.

"oh, gwen. hi." she greets her best friend and then her boyfriend, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning into him with her chin resting on his shoulder.

"what are you doing here?"

gwen shrugs. "i just wanted to check up on you — your dad called me, yelling at me because he thought that you'd left to go hide at my apartment."

the words that come out of one of her best friends' mouth shakes [y/n] to her very core — anytime she hears anything about her father, she gets easily nervous and scared.

in a matter of seconds, [y/n] slowly pulls away from her boyfriend's body.

she knows that she should try to pretend everything's fine and as if her friend's words don't affect her, but she can't help it.

if she had a few more seconds, she'd probably fall into a state of mind where she'd completely shut down.

but, when a light touch to her shoulder by peter shakes her out of her daze, she sighs and nervously finds her boyfriend's eyes on her.

"what's going on, guys? did something happen?" gwen asks worriedly after seeing the tense look on [y/n]'s face.

peter doesn't speak. he doesn't even look away from his girlfriend — his eyes simply say that the decision is all hers.

despite the fact that him and gwen are pretty close friends, he's always respected [y/n]'s choices.

with a sigh, [y/n] turns to gwen. "i kind of had a run in with my dad earlier."

as she hears that statement, gwen begins to notice the bruises on her best friend's face.

she frowns. "are you okay?" she asks, but after a moment, she groans and rolls her eyes at herself.

"i'm sorry. that was insensitive — of course you're not okay."

[y/n] laughs, despite the seriousness of the situation. "it's okay."

gwen gives her a pointed look, not believing for one moment that what she asked was okay.

"really, gwen," she says, finding some courage inside of her. "i'm probably not okay. but... " she trails off, suddenly feeling like everything is going to be okay with the ones that truly love her by her side.

"for the first time, i think i'm going to be okay — that everything will be okay." she says confidently, moving even closer to peter and practically burying herself into his arms.

gwen smiles. "good. i'm glad."

—————

AFTER A LITTLE BIT MORE of talking, they all finally say their goodbyes and peter shuts the door gently.

they move over to the couch, peter covering them — mostly [y/n] — with one of the fuzzy throw blankets that was lying over the front of the couch.

"you doing okay?" he asks softly as she lays her face into his neck.

she smiles, feeling reassured for the first time.

she lifts her head back up to look at him.

"i know going back was stupid. i do—" before she can continue, he interrupts her with guilt evident in his brown eyes. —"i'm sorry, bug. for how angry i got earlier."

she tilts her head in confusion. "what do you mean?"

"i shouldn't have gotten upset with you. and i'm sorry for startling you. i was just worried." he murmurs seriously, frowning at her confusion.

"i just... every time i think about your dad being near you or hurting you, well, it drives me crazy, sweetheart." he says, trying to ignore the anger in his voice every time he thinks about the type of person his girlfriend's father is.

"pete... it's okay. i'm not going to go back — i learned my lesson." she says, cupping his jaw with one hand, in order to try to calm him down.

he sighs, leaning into her hand and covering it with one of his own.

"that's the point, sweetheart. you shouldn't have to be cautious and scared to avoid him, so that he doesn't act like that. it's not okay."

she frowns, wishing that she could stop him from worrying.

but, she also knows that he needs to get these feelings out and off of his chest.

"tell me, peter. what is it?" she asks, being the understanding girlfriend that he loves — no matter how cliche that actually sounds.

"i love how good-hearted you are, sweetheart. the way you always see the good in everyone, despite what they've done to you — it's amazing," he starts, pulling her hand away from his jaw to hold over one of his legs.

"and i never want you to stop being that person. but, i also hate that you have to avoid him. you shouldn't have to give up your happiness and peace."

she nods in clear understanding.

he groans again, leaning his forehead over hers.

"it's okay, peter."

he pulls away and opens his mouth to say something in defense, but she stops him by speaking before him, "peter, i know it upsets you that he doesn't get to be punished for his actions and i get that."

he stops short, giving her a chance to finish talking.

"i know you hate that. but, i know that you love me more than any urge that you have to give him what he deserves — and that's what i need you to do, okay? love me more than you hate him." he frowns at her words.

as if noticing his hesitation, she says, "for me. please?"

he sighs in defeat and nods. "fine. for you." he murmurs as he pulls her closer into his embrace and body.

she smiles in victory as she lies her head on his shoulder. "i love you, peter parker. you know that?" she murmurs, cuddling up close to him.

"i know i can always count on you." she says, once more, smiling as he chuckles and stretches over to kiss her on the forehead.

"good. because i love you more and i'll always hold you when you need it, dove." he murmurs, smiling at her calm and at peaceful face.

and like that, they cuddle until they fall asleep with peaceful expressions on their faces.

[moonstruckme]

MAAAAEEEEE I was wondering if I could request a Peter Parker fic where he just kind of adopts shy!reader without her consent like “yeah we’re friends now, we spend time together and also we’re probably gonna fall in love and date but why don’t we just start with me walking you home from class” or some such nonsense. Also wondering if you could keep his spidey-powers; I love that little mutant freak

I hate you for doing this to me

Ugh our mutant freak <3 Thanks for the request babe!

tasm!Peter Parker x shy!reader ♡ 920 words

You’re never alone on the way home from class anymore. You’re not sure what changed at the start of the spring semester, if you just started putting out helpless-pedestrian energy or if it was something else, but soon after the start of classes your walks home from your night class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Friday began being accompanied by none other than Spider-Man. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, it’s Peter. 

You and Peter have molecular biology together. On the first day of class, he rushed in just as your professor started lecturing. Every seat was full except the one next to you, and when you offered it to him silently with a nod of your head, Peter looked so relieved you’d think you handed him an A in the class. He’s been glommed onto your ever since; some days he asks you to stop for coffee after class, some days he offers to study with you in the library, and he always walks you home. You don’t know what you did to deserve the company, but you appreciate it. 

“You ever been there?” Peter asks, nodding to a stand advertising New York City’s Best Vegan Hot-Dogs. 

“No,” you say.

“Well, seems like we’ve gotta try them at some point. I mean, they’re the best in New York.” 

A smile tugs at your lips. Peter’s always doing that. Making plans, saying we. It’s like the idea of you two hanging out beyond the end of your class is a foregone conclusion in his head. You haven’t been able to figure out if that’s just the way Peter talks or if he means it. You hope it’s the latter. 

“You think so?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Peter says with affected certainty. “I mean, why would you doubt the sign? Everyone knows you have to get things like that certified.” 

You glance up at Peter, but one look into his smiling eyes is too much for you. You have to turn your face away. “I’m pretty sure there are three #1 Indian Restaurants in my neighborhood.” 

“Oof. Must make for some brutal decisions when you’re craving Indian.” 

Two weeks ago, you offered to buy Spider-Man dinner for walking you home. It was stupid—he can’t eat through the mask, which he told you kindly and which you could have figured out if you thought about it for more than a second before opening your mouth—but you were feeling guilty about stopping to pick up takeout and indebted for all the time he spends walking you home instead of preventing mob activity or whatever Spider-Man does. He professed, upon smelling your takeout, that Indian food is one of his favorites, too. 

You haven’t told Peter about your vigilante escort. Spider-Man never comes to you while Peter’s around—presumably because you don’t need his help if you’ve already got a companion—and it’s the sort of ridiculous story you know will sound made up out loud. Why do you know that Spider-Man likes matar paneer? What makes you so special? They’re unanswerable questions, and you’d never be able to look at Peter again if he laughed at you. 

“Hey.” Peter bumps your hip with his. You go stiff at the contact. “You okay?” 

“Hm?” You look up, and he’s watching you with concern. “Yeah, sorry.” 

“You seem a little quiet,” he says. And when your face heats, “Well, quieter than usual.” 

“Sorry,” you say again, embarrassed. “I think I’m just tired.” 

“Oh, yeah? Class was a long one, huh?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That makes sense.” Peter sounds disappointed. You blink at him in confusion, and he almost winces. “I don’t suppose…I mean, if you just want to get home I get that, but I was wondering if you wanted to grab food? With me?” 

Your steps stutter. It’s not that you and Peter have never hung out before. Or even that all the time you’ve spent together centers wholly around class—there have been coffees, chats in the hallway, walks in the park near your university building—but it’s something about the way he asks, like it’s important this time, like it means something. You want for it to mean something. 

“I could still grab food.” You’re not quite looking at him, fiddling with the contents of your jacket pocket. Popping the lid to your chapstick on and off. 

“Yeah?” Peter asks hopefully. 

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Mhm.” 

His voice softens, a smile in it. “Could you look at me, maybe?” 

You glance up, regretting it instantly as always. Peter is resplendent. Dimples framing his smile like parenthesis, hair mussed by the wind that beats at you while crossing every street, he’s the sort of handsome that’s only just starting to figure out how handsome he is. You think you probably make it easier for him. To figure it out. 

“Do you really want to,” he asks in a sincere tone, “or are you just appeasing me? If you’re tired I can take you straight to your place.” 

Your heart thudders. If you have to look at him for much longer you worry you’ll melt into the cracks of the pavement. “I want to,” you say. “I’m sort of hungry, too.” 

“Okay, awesome.” He sounds happy again. You think if you were lucky, that’d be the only thing you were put on Earth to do, make Peter happy. “Maybe we could try one of those Indian places near yours? See who’s really number one.” 

“Sure.” You smile up at him, brain buzzing when Peter beams back. 

“Sick! I could really go for some matar paneer.” 

[literaryavenger]

Thoughtful

Summary: You find something of Bucky's.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avengers!Reader

Warnings: My poor attempts at being funny. No use of Y/N. Bucky being a bit of a tease. Just a whole lot of fluff.

Word Count: 1.1K

A/N: This is a dream I had and I couldn't get it out of my head so I decided to write it down. Hope somebody enjoys it!

Masterlist

“Good morning.” you say casually to Bucky sitting at the island as you enter the kitchen.

He merely nods back to acknowledge your presence while sipping his coffee. It’s not like Bucky doesn’t like you, he’s just not a morning person. But the whole team is used to his morning grumpiness.

Also, you and the brunette supersoldier aren’t particularly close, so you don’t really expect bells and whistles when he sees you.

You pour some coffee for yourself and then sit on the kitchen island in front of Bucky. A light jingle coming from under your shirt gets Bucky’s attention and he raises an eyebrow at you.

“What was that?” He asks you, his curiosity getting the better of him.

You frown at his question before following his eyeline and seeing him looking at your chest. But he’s not staring at your boobs through your admittedly thin tank top, he’s looking under them where he can see something resting between the fabric and your skin.

You’re honestly confused at what that is for a moment before you remember and your eyes widen a little as your cheeks start reddening in embarrassment.

Bucky’s confused at your reaction as he watches you take the chain around your neck to bring out the set of dog tags around your neck and Bucky frowns even more.

“I didn’t know you were in the military…” He comments while looking at the tags and then at you, unclear as to why you’d be embarrassed about it.

“I wasn’t…” You say quietly while glancing down at the tags. “They’re kinda… yours.”

Bucky’s even more dumbfounded by your answer. But, after letting your words sink in and deciding he indeed heard you correctly, he couldn’t help the grin that started to grow on his face, much to your surprise.

You thought maybe he’d be mad, although it’s not like you stole them, you simply found them. But still, you were worried what he might think about you wearing them.

“Oh good, I thought I lost them!” He says relieved. “I looked for them everywhere.”

“Well, can I have them back now?” He asks you after a moment of silence and you realize you haven’t even taken them off yet this whole time.

So you quickly do, leaning over the kitchen island and setting them down carefully on his outstretched hand. You watch him put them on, your eyes lingering on the metal on his chest a minute longer than necessary before going back up to his. 

“And why exactly are you wearing my dog tags?” He asks, and right now you wish he’d get mad at you instead. Anything is better than the amusement that’s all over his face at watching you squirm in your seat.

“I found them at the gym… But it’s not like I was planning to keep them.” You quickly justify yourself, your tone entirely too defensive even to your own ears as you blush more. “But you had just left for your mission with Steve and I thought I would just keep them safe until you came back, so I put them on… But I had every intention to give them back, I swear!”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, doll...” He says, his grin turning into a full grown smirk as he points out the obvious. “But I’ve been back for a week, and you were still wearing them.”

“Yeah, I-I guess I got so used to them that I forgot to give them back…” You say quietly, your face turning impossibly red as Bucky seems to be having the time of his life right now.

You groan internally when you see his smirk still going strong at your embarrassment and you decide to cut your losses and not give him more fuel to add to the fire before 9am.

You get up and put your empty cup in the sink. As you turn around you’re startled to find the Sergeant much closer to you than he was before, the kitchen island no longer between you. He doesn’t give you a chance to say anything or even pull away before he’s talking.

“On the other hand…” He takes his dog tags off and reaches out to put them around your neck, making sure to keep his eyes on the metal and not glance at your boobs no matter how much he wants to. “Maybe you could hold onto them for me.”

He looks at the tags on your chest then up to your face before he pulls away completely with a quiet “Beautiful.” and takes a step back, leaving you a flustered mess.

After a minute you remember how to breathe and you glance down at the tags. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. We wouldn’t want me to lose them again now, would we?” He says with a smile, reaching out to lift your chin gently and making you look at him. “But you’ll keep them safe for me, right doll?”

You nod almost without thinking about it, his eyes putting you in a trance. You’re sure you’d agree to anything right about now, all you can really hear is your own heart pounding anyway.

“Plus, now I can do this…” He lets go of your chin and wraps his hand around the chain of the dog tags. 

He uses his hold on them to pull you closer and your heart skips a beat as he leaves you a soft kiss on your lips. You barely realize what’s happening before he’s pulling away again and you merely look at him with your mouth agape in shock.

Before you can say anything, though, you hear snickers from the door of the kitchen and you both turn towards it just to see the whole team there. All of them have smirks, grins and smiles, everyone delighted at the situation as your face starts getting redder than Tony’s Iron-man suit.

You look back at Bucky and the cheeky bastard is also smirking, clearly much more amused than you at being caught like this.

“Okay, well,” You say while clearing your throat awkwardly and stepping away from Bucky to escape from this situation altogether. “I’m gonna go research the tallest building in New York so I can throw myself off of it.”

Your deadpan reaction leaves everyone laughing as they get away from the door so you can pass.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart, it wasn’t that bad!” Tony yells after you between laughs, obviously sarcastic and you roll your eyes.

“Bite me, Stark!” you yell back, not even tempted to look back as you try to hide a smile of your own while hearing the team’s amusement in the kitchen.

You’re still a little in shock that Bucky kissed you but, once the embarrassment at the team having witnessed it washes away, you can’t wait to follow up on this with Sergeant Grumpy.

Part 2

[gloomskulls]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚LIMERENCE [tasm!peter parker]

pairings: tasm!peter parker x reader

part 2

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ For Peter Parker, the deepest secret is not being Spider-Man. It's that he likes you, no he loves you, wants you in any imaginable way possible. After years of quietly admiring you from a distance, everything changes after a biology project that partners you two together. Peter sees a glimpse of chance to get nearer to you, but the line of affection and obsession begins to blur

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ obessive peter, creep peter, stalking, masturbation, panty sniffing, dirty thoughts, breaking in, just peter being hopelessly in love. If any of this finds you uncomfortable, please click out do yourself (and me also) a favor. lemme know if I missed any! MINORS DO NOT READ

If you don't want to see my dark stories in the future please block the tag #madi: dark content

A/n: my first ever fic posted on Tumblr, yippee! This is also my first ever smut so it probs be equivalent to horse poo but anyways, this also takes place in tasm 2. don't steal any of the shit I've written or else i'm gonna turn you into Vicky from Terrifier/srs

Peter didn't understand what was so special about you, you were just a crush. Or that's what he convinced himself. Every single place you were in, Peter would carefully trail behind you, like there was a magnet strapped onto you, and Peter was the metal, he would always find himself drawing next to you. Peter Parker was no stranger to keeping secrets. It was, after all, the epitome of his double life. A mask, a costume, a name that wasn't his at all. There was one secret, however, that even the Spider-Man's mask couldn't cover—his growing infatuation towards you.

It started out really simple. You decided to give back the nerdy boy's pencil in sophomore year and defended him from Flash Thompson in his junior year, it was all simple really, something a person with decency and was taught with proper manners would do. But Peter took it as more than that.

Candid photos here and there, purposefully falling of his skateboard so you would help him, cryptic notes in your locker, sometimes a random flower if Peter was lucky to find any.

Limerence, as some might say

The first people who would ever notice Peter's strange behavior where the people who raised him. Uncle Ben would notice this girl in the screen of his nephew's computer, so did Aunt May when she saw many polaroid photos of the same face underneath Peter's bed. Peter shrugged it off, saying the same exact words to the both of them.

'she's just a crush'

Peter Parker was very good at being hidden in the open. Sure, he didn't want to be invisible, but it is what it is. One of the self-working "losers" with horrible punchlines and pretty much the face screaming "nerd". Well, it didn't bother Peter much. He had many other more important things to think about. You

It's been years now. It was already the last year of senior year, graduation was already nearing, still, he hasn't mustered up the courage to do speak to you, afraid that you won't reciprocate the same feelings he has. His been watching you from a distance, stealing glances in class and making mental notes on all the little things you did, like doodling on the corners of your notebooks or, how you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were concentrating. He knew that it was weird, creepy even, but Peter couldn't stop himself.

So, when Mr. Warren announced a paired project for biology, Peter's internal monologue kicked into overdrive.

"Pair work begins today," Mr. Warren said, his smile a gruff overture that still Peter thought unnecessary. "Choose your partners wisely, just choose somebody you will along with. You can really screw up over this project if you don't!"

The room broke out into a low buzz as students shuffled their chairs and moved toward their friends. Peter didn't move. He never did. Choosing a partner was like finding a needle in a haystack type of task for him

Alright, Pete, it is not such a big deal. You are not going to end up with her or anything. Just relax, find someone cool, and—

"Peter!"

Your voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up to see you in front of his desk, clutching a notebook to your chest

"By any chance do you have a partner? My friends kind of made their own pairs" you asked, your lips curving into an easy smile.

Peter blinked. His brain short-circuited.

"N-nope. I'm totally solo. Flying solo. A lone wolf. A…"

"Awesome! Then let's team up."

Peter turned to you, his mind racing, he blinked, trying to absorb this. You were choosing him? He nodded frantically; his heart was hammering at a top speed that he was convinced you could hear it

You smiled at him, you fucking smiled at him

For the rest of the class Mr. Warren instructed everyone to plan for the project for the rest of the class. You kept bouncing ideas back and forth, and Peter felt a strange, thrilling sensation of in his heart. You were funny, clever, and surprisingly very easy to communicate with. Every time you laughed at one of his jokes, he felt like he was soaring.

When the bell rang, you packed your things and turned to him. "We should work on this at my place. Tomorrow after school?"

Peter nearly dropped his notebook. "Uh, yeah. Totally. I mean, yes. That works. Perfect. So super normal."

You laughed again. "Cool. Here's my address."

And with that, you scribbled it on a scrap of paper and handed it to him before walking away, leaving Peter frozen in his seat.

That night, Peter was sitting in his room staring at the address. To most people, that was just a little detail, probably not even worth a second thought. But to Peter, it was an invitation, or perhaps a key, even just for a second to get into your life. To know every little thing about you

Unfortunately, though, that's not enough.

He felt his hands shaking as he opened the drawer in his desk to reveal a small trove of hidden treasures; poorly taken pictures of you from a distance, bits of paper that you had thrown away during math class, and a small stash of hair strands that he meticulously collected from your hair comb when you weren't looking

This was love, wasn't it? The desperate consuming desire to be around her, to know everything about you.

And tomorrow, he shall get his chance.

You invited him, but Peter just knew it was really more than what you would ever willingly give.

His love was a web, and you were stepping into it, one delicate thread at a time.

Peter stood outside your house with a crumpled piece of paper clutched in his rather sweaty hand. The address on it was correct, but doubt clouded him. What if she had forgotten about this meeting? What if this was simply a joke? No, she would never do that, he tried to convince himself

Peter Parker was standing at your porch. Each thump of his heart sounded like one of the drums in the music club. He raised his hand to knock, hesitating for a moment. Maybe it was a terrible idea to come here after all; he could fake being sick, sending her an apology while rescheduling. Just then, the door swung open before he even had the chance to run.

"Hey, you found my house, I actually thought you would get lost cause I wrote the wrong color of the rooftop on the note" you said while stepping aside to let him enter.

"I was actually hesitant to knock, because it didn't look like the description" He quietly said. You actually got everything right, I was just being a huge pussy so I didn't come immediately, he thought to himself.

"Come in. I have started working on the diagram."

Peter plasted a grin and forced his legs down inside. "Well, look at you. Overachieving already. I guess I'll just sit back and let you do all the hard work."

You rolled your eyes and laughed, your voice making him feel that the world wasn't so bad after all. "Nice try, Parker. Grab a marker. You're on label duty."

"Come on, we can work in the dining area," you said, leading him across the house.

The dining table was already loaded with supplies, with textbooks scattered everywhere, colored pencils, sheets of poster paper, you name it. You positioned herself and gestured to him to join you.

You fell into a rhythm, your hand sketching the parts of the circulatory system while Peter scrawled out the labels in his neatest handwriting. He cracked jokes every few minutes, drawing out your laughter like a lifeline. It would be so easy to lose himself in the moment, pretend that you both were just two friends hanging out and not a guy hopelessly infatuated with someone who didn't even know half the truth about him.

Both of you had a relatively smooth first hour of working, few questions were asked here and there on the project. Peter kept his answers short, being extra cautious with what to share, but it seemed you did not mind. You sketched diagrams, jotting down notes with an ease that made Peter's hands tremble every time he made an attempt to help.

"So Peter," you suddenly announced after the silence, "why is it that you don't talk very much? At school I mean"

The question staggered him, rendering him blank while the colored pencil just hovered above the page.

Peter jerked up his head and looked surprised. "What do you mean? Talking is what I do. I mean, there's even people begging me to stop."

You smirked but didn't let it down. "I mean really, you're funny but I know nothing about you. What's your thing, Peter Parker?"

He didn't answer immediately but fiddled with the marker. "I'm just… some guy. Pretty boring, honestly. Not much to tell."

Your expression softened, "I don't buy that. You're not boring".

Your words made Peter's chest tighter. He wanted to believe you, yet the voice at the back of his mind reminded how wrong youwere. If you only knew the real him, the guy who had spent countless nights staring at your window, memorizing your every move, you wouldn't be smiling and sitting here before him.

"Hey, don't overthink it. You're cool. Let's just finish this masterpiece, okay?" you said, flicking his arm before he could answer.

Peter smiled forcedly

And when they finished the day's work, you walk him to the door once more, your smile as warm as ever.

"Thanks for coming over," you said. "You're actually a pretty decent partner, Parker."

"Decent?!" Peter gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. "Wow. Don't hold back; tell me how you really feel."

And you laughed, shaking your head. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Peter waved. You waved back at him, as he strolled down the street, but he did not go very far. Instead, he found himself across the street in the same place, hidden under the shadow of the oak tree.

you were in your living room again, curled around a blanket and a pillow as you watched whatever was on your screen, your face glowing softly from the light of the television. Peter leaned against the tree with both hands shoved in his jacket pockets and simply watched.

How long he'd been there, he couldn't tell, but he didn't want to leave. This was the closest he ever felt with you, even if you didn't know he was here.

He knew this was crossing the line, but he couldn't help himself. He found himself sneaking into your house. Now he really felt like a robber trying to intrude a home, expect he wasn't really going to steal anything, or so he thought.

It was late at night, you and your family were already asleep at this point

Peter knew that the right thing to do was to head home. He knew for sure that this crossed a line even he wasn't sure he could come back from. But before he could stop himself, he was moving, slipping across the street and into the shadows of your yard.

His palms were slick with sweat as he scanned the side of the house. The metal trellis leading up to your window wasn't very solid, but it would hold him if he was careful.

He carefully climbed the trellis, not putting too much weight on it. And his heart was pounding as he got to your window, his fingers brushing against the cool glass.

It wasn't locked.

At that moment, his body froze. The rational part of him screamed to stop, to climb back down and pretend this never happened. But then his hand was on the window. And that soft sound of it sliding open seemed to be deafeningly loud in the stillness of the night.

He slipped into his feet and landed silently on the carpeted floor. Your room smelled of lavender and something warm and sweet like vanilla. A little bit of moonlight filtered through the curtains and brightened the room in pale silver.

There she was

You laid curled up in your bed, the blankets pulled up to your shoulders, your face peaceful in sleep. Peter’s breath caught in his throat. You looked so serene, so utterly perfect, that it made his chest ache.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity, just watching you. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to feel—satisfaction, maybe, or relief. But all he felt was a strange mix of awe and guilt.

This was wrong.

He knew it.

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

He looked around your room, it was full of polaroids of either you or your friends.

He started walking around your room quietly, careful to not wake you up in your slumber, because God knows what will happen if you saw him in your room with all its glory, he couldn't even imagine the disgust on your face.

But one thing caught his eye

Your bathroom was open, and in your bathroom was a basket with what he assumed inside were dirty laundry.

He knew it was disgusting, heck, over the top creep award would probably go to him, but he found himself walking towards the bathroom. It was wrong, but he still did it, he needs to get help, he thought to himself.

One second ago he was walking towards your bathroom, next thing you knew he was rummaging through your dirty laundry, occasionally smelling some of your shirts. He cherished the way your scent overwhelmed his nose, he was in Cloud 9.

While he was rummaging, a little piece of clothing caught his eye. With shaky hands he picked up the piece of clothing, it was your pink underwear with little cherries scattered everywhere as design.

He brought it near to his nose. He suddenly sat down in the neat cold tiles of the bathroom floor, he smelt it as if it was his oxygen.

He let out a small moan. He didn't know if it was an invisible force making him do such things, but he found his hands unbuttoning his pants

Peter Parker sat in the rest room; hand clasped tight around the lacy edge of the pink panty. He took out his hardened length of his boxers. The scent of dirty panties wafted his nose.

He imagined you wrapped around his throbbing cock, he thought of the feeling of your tight little pussy riding his cock, he wanted the sweet nectar from your lips, while having a feast on your quivering hole. His cock throbbed in his palms, his hands were much faster now, stroking his hardened cock. He had to bite his tongue to keep himself from moaning

Why was he doing this? You were literally there, outside the bathroom, sleeping. And Peter was here, out in the open, jerking off to the smell of your used panties

He was drenched in sweat as his hairs stuck to his wet forehead. He fantasized about your perky tits; perfect little nipples erect in anticipation. Pumping the shaft rapidly, imagining you on all fours begging for more, the bounce of your tits while riding him moaning his name like a mantra, Peter, fuck Peter, Peter, oh my God!

Peter was breathing heavily, his release was near, he profusely pumped his manhood, his hands and cock covered in his sticky pre-cum.

He wanted to feel you inside him, want you to quiver in pleasure as he fucks you over and over again.

He felt a sudden wave of pleasure hitting him, before he knew it, he released a flooded torrent of jizz into sticky cum as it scattered all over the floor. He slumped against the wall, heaving as he tried to steady his racing heart. He looked outside the door, finding you in the same spot as you were. You were sleeping oh so peacefully

He gazed at you, his heart full of unfulfilled yearning. He desperately wanted to be part of your world, to be someone you chose to let in. Yet no matter how many jokes he made or how close you seemed; he knew deep in his heart that he was not enough.

A soft sound broke the silence.

Peter's eyes snap to the bed, and his stomach lurch at the realization that you were stirring. Your brows knitted, your breathing started shifting, just as if you were going to wake up.

He immediately threw your panties back into the basket as he stood up and fixed his underwear and pants

He felt panic surging him, he immediately sprinted near the window. It made a loud a thud, now he was fucked

He moved quickly and quietly without thinking as he quietly ran towards the window. Just as you were about to opene your eyes, he slipped stealthily past the fluttering of curtains.

He tried scrambling down the trellis and found the ground, shivering and shaking as he did so.

He was hidden in a shadow corner, looking up towards your window. You were sitting up now, rubbing your eyes and looking around your room with a sleepy confusion.

Peter's chest tightened.

What's the matter with him?

He hurried as he turned away, his footsteps quiet against the pavement

The cool night air wrapped around Peter Parker like a cold, suffocating blanket as he walked back toward his house. Each step seemed to slant further and further as if his sneakers were scuffing wet against the cracked pavement in a slow and deliberate rhythm.

It was as if the world had gone still—entirely quiet. No cars were heard, no distant chatter, no hum of the city. Just Peter, the quiet whistle of wind through leaves, and the pounding thuds of his thoughts.

With that, he shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets, his fingers curling into tight fists. Replaying the scene, he heard the soft sound of your breathing, the warmth of your room, and the way you stirred in your bed as if you had felt him there.

What the heck are you doing, Parker? He hadn't intended to climb into your room. He hadn't intended for it to get this far. Watching from the shadows was one thing, but tonight… tonight he had crossed a line.

He stopped moving and leaned against the lamppost, his breath escaping him in short, sharp gasps. Above him, the light flickered, shining unevenly across his shadow on the ground.

"This isn't me," he whispered to himself, the voice trembling.

But wasn't it?

Hadn't he been staring at you for years, taking notes while you weren't looking, memorizing all of your movements, laughter, and smiles? He had told himself that it was just harmless admiration from a distance, but now it was clear.

What would you think if you knew?

He sighed, Peter threw back his head and gazed up at the sky. Above him the stars, though cold and distant, seemed on to him— judging him in silence.

With the words of Uncle Ben echoing in his mind, With great power comes great responsibility, Peter winced.

Peter's jaw clamped down. Not great power; not yet. But wasn't all this part of it? Taking responsibility for his actions, owning up to his mistakes before they spiraled uncontrollably out of hand?

It hit him like a gut punch.

He wouldn't ever be able to take it back. Nor would he ever be able to wipe away the fact that he'd violated your space, your privacy, in a way you might never forgive. But he could stop it from going any further. He could ensure that you never found out.

@gloomskulls 2024. DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE ANY OF MY WORKS HERE OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES. Photos don't belong to me

[shawnxstyles]

panty stealer 2

DATE: JULY 12, 2023

summary: after the forbidden and surprising night of the ‘break-in’, you couldn’t get your mind off of peter. luckily, he couldn’t either, and finds his way back into your bedroom to invite you to a party.

requested: so many times yes!

words: 11.2k!! woah

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, slight oral, masturbation, vibrator], praise kink, degrading kink, slight exhibitionism, dirty talk, and protected sex), language, mentions of marjuana/alcohol, and fluff

note: this was the most anticipated and loved of all my writings! i’m so thankful for everyone who liked part 1, i just had to write a part 2. enjoy!!! sorry if the gif is all weird again

—

so many thoughts flew through peter’s mind as he swung through the streets of massachusetts: what homework or projects he might have, you, class, praying flash doesn’t do anything stupid while he’s gone, you, hoping ned doesn’t have a panic attack from flash’s idiocy, and you you you.

he thought of your body and the way it felt underneath him while he pushed himself deep inside of you. and the whimpers you let out as you came. and the sound of your laughter through the palm of your hand. and the smile on your face as he kissed your forehead. he wished he had kissed you longer. he wished he had stayed longer. forever.

was that dramatic? maybe.

you were a recurring thought that never seemed to cease from his brain.

peter sees you around school sometimes—only on the days you two have class together. neither of you made an effort to approach the other, almost as if you expected the other person to do it first. you both sat far apart from each other, too afraid to move seats around and make it obvious. but peter’s gaze fell heavily over your shoulder too many times for you to not feel it.

every time you shifted around to face the back of the room, you watched him avert his wandering eyes to anywhere but you. it made you smile and giggle quietly behind your hand, and of course peter’s hearing picked up on the angelic sounds, causing his heart to skip against his ribs.

and then class would begin and you’d have to wait until next class to see him again.

peter wanted to go see you—talk to you. he really did. but he was so busy with school work and being spider-man that he didn’t have a night off. mid-terms were coming up, but that also meant thanksgiving break was in the rear view mirror. after halloween of course.

in college, halloween was like any other day. you didn’t get a day off to trick-or-treat and hang out with your friends. instead, you were given a pile of tests the week before.

not much of a treat, huh?

outside of college, however, people threw the best parties that night. one of those people obviously being peter. luckily, halloween was on a saturday, so everyone would be done with mid-terms and ready to party their asses off.

flash needed everyone and their mom to come for him to be satisfied (well, maybe not their moms). he’s going to blow up everyone’s phone telling them to invite every person they know. peter didn’t care who showed up. he knows that halloween is one of the biggest parties of the year (besides fourth of july). peter only wanted—no needed—one person to be there.

—

knowing it’s been weeks since he’s seen you and the party was only in a few days, peter had to come and see you. he had to make sure you got the invite. it was difficult to fit visiting you into his schedule, but like always, he made it work.

you were becoming important to him, a priority.

he would only be in and out because who knows what would happen if peter was caught in there? last time, flash got his car hit with a baseball bat. flash was so mad that he completely forgot about peter’s dare, even though it was the whole point of sneaking into the house. it was deserved, but peter didn’t want any of that happening to him. so, peter promised himself no funny business unless you were in his room.

ugh, but peter really didn’t want you around the frat boys. they were way too much.

the sky was pitch black besides the hint of stars that were sprinkled in the sky. it was a chilly, fall night that made peter want to cozy up and pass out in his bed. but he had more important things to do first.

after a boring night of patrol, peter sneaks into his room through his opened window. without making too much noise (unlike flash), he quietly changes out of his suit and packs it into his closet in a box labeled books. peter is certain that no one, especially flash, would ever open that box. so he fixes his appearance by adjusting his shirt in the mirror, checking his teeth, and messing with his wild hair. on impulse, he throws on a cap to better hide himself. with that, he jumps out his window once again, shutting it closed on his way down with his sticky fingers.

like he’s done once before, peter sneaks across the street to the forbidden sorority house. he stares at the windows; all darkened bedrooms, except for one. peter wasn’t one hundred percent sure that that single lit bedroom was yours, but he was willing to test his luck.

for you.

peering at his surroundings, peter flips his hat backwards and slowly crawls up the side of the house. his fingers latch onto the windowsill as he very slowly lifts his head over it. he notices that it’s slightly cracked open before his gaze is seering through the glass.

you have got to be fucking joking.

your body lays sprawled across your bed as a delicate hand wanders between your parted legs and slides your infamous panties to the side. your torso is covered in the same mit t-shirt from that night, draped over your lavish figure tantalizingly. a laptop plays a pornographic scene of some sort, headphones plugged in one ear.

god, he wanted to touch you so bad.

he wondered if you were thinking of him. recalling how his fingers caressed down your body and how they touched every inch of your skin. but you couldn’t be, right? it’s been weeks and peter hasn’t made a move. you’ve probably moved on from that night like nothing happened. peter should probably go, leave you alone during such an intimate time—

“mm, peter,” your angelic voice hums a quiet moan that was only loud enough for peter’s hearing. peter feels his cock twitch needily at your noises, hissing to himself as you whimper his name. “feels so good.”

well, that’s just like a goddamn invite.

using every skill he has learned from being spider-man, peter yanks open the window and creeps inside. you were too emerged in your fantasies; eyes screwed closed as you listened attentively to the ongoing video. you failed to notice peter’s looming presence over your bed, even with only one headphone in. your noises continued, spurring peter’s next actions on.

without saying a word, peter lays his hand over yours, which is rubbing cute circles over your clit. your movements freeze and your eyes fly open. your mind doesn’t register the sight before you, so your breathing stops and your lungs get ready to scream out every millimeter of oxygen in you. but peter slips his other hand over your mouth before you could alert the entire neighborhood of his presence.

peter could sense the erratic beating of your heart as your tense muscles very gradually soften once you realize it’s him. once you’ve calmed down enough to not scream, you take your free hand and lower peter’s from your mouth.

he came back.

“p-peter, i didn't know you were coming,” you weren't sure what to say. your mind was still spinning like a top toy and your heart was beating like a galloping horse. your skin was burning underneath him, full of embarrassment and immense desire. “a head’s up would have been nice…”

“i’m sorry for the interruption…” peter says, eyes dragging down your body. his hand moves above yours gradually. you inhale sharply as peter guides your hand.

“you don’t seem sorry,” you retaliate as the friction from your hand with the help of peter’s begins to rile your body up again. you feel the wetness seep from your cunt, aching and needy for more. for more of him.

“how come you’re so wet?” peter completely ignores you, and removes your hand from your pussy with a gentle toss. peter didn’t expect anything tonight, but he especially didn’t expect to find his little angel with her hands between her legs. you gasp when his fingers are directly touching you, instantly clenching around nothing. his fingers are a bit chilly, in contrast to your flamy skin. “is it from the video?”

“n-no,” you stutter between needy pants as his fingers threaten to sink into your pulsing hole. your legs spread wider for him, inviting him closer to you. you slam the laptop down with shaky fingers to show him that you no longer need it.

“then what’s got you so wet?” two fingers dip into your cunt to persuade you to talk, but it’s doing the opposite. you bite your lip to hide the traitorous moan that threatens to escape. heavy arousal coats your labia while he pumps in and out of you easily, waiting for an answer.

“i was thinking of you,” you admit, hips rolling into his touch greedily. “wondering if you’d ever come back.”

peter’s heart saddens at the thought of you waiting for him. this whole time peter assumed you forgot about him, when in reality, it was the exact opposite. and there was sticky evidence to prove it.

“i’m right here, angel. what were you thinking about?” his body leans down hovering over yours, causing your body to sink into the mattress.

“thought about you climbing through the window, just like you did. imagined you’d fuck me, like you promised,” you moan quietly between words, trying to sound cohesive. hearing you say such vulgar words has peter’s cock twitching in his pants. with peter, you weren’t afraid to be straight to the point and tell him what you want. peter admired that, and would probably do anything you asked him to.

“with time, i’m a man of my word, baby.”

close and personal, peter interlocks his lips with yours. your frolicking hands drift to his warm neck, caressing the nape as you melt into him. peter inserts a third finger into you, eliciting a muffled moan against his lips. the action opens up your mouth and allows peter to effortlessly glide his tongue inside.

his fingers ram into you at a deliriously fast pace, causing your mind to haze into a euphoric state. it was impressive how peter could be kissing you unforgettably, but also skillfully pleasuring you with his hands. peter seemed like a man full of secrets and skills that you were dying to know.

who is peter parker?

fogging up your mind, your muscles tense and your back continues to arch until your stomach is touching his. your legs threaten to close from the overwhelming pleasure from his fingers, but you battle to keep them wide. his mouth trails down your neck and attacks the sensitive skin below your ear. teeth digging into your lip, you withhold all of your noises that peter so desperately wants to hear.

“if we were alone, you wouldn’t be allowed to be quiet,” he husks in your ear before trailing further down your neck. his voice was every level of attractive, pushing you closer to the edge. peter continued to check off all of your invisible boxes of turn ons.

“i know,” your voice was delicate and strained, and peter could tell you were close.

your walls gripped his fingers eagerly, and your stomach tightened up. it was embarrassing that you were so close so fast, but you couldn’t hold it any longer. once his fingers curled one last time inside of you, you were a goner.

“come for me, baby,” he demanded quietly, so you did.

your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami, drenched in blissful euphoria. peter worked you through your high by softly rubbing your legs and coaxing every last drop out of you until you were sensitive to the touch.

without having to ask, peter lowers himself to your mound and yanks your panties down and off your legs. he then cleans up your mess with his skillful tongue, licking and slurping all of your juices. your sensitivity causes you to be squirmy, but he’s done before you know it and then you’re left reminiscing.

although he was right in front of you, you missed his touch already. you missed him inside of you because it made you feel connected, intertwined. you didn’t want him to leave you again for weeks and come back on a random week day. or even worse, never again at all. you hoped that it didn’t become a pattern because you were getting attached to him, whether you liked it or not (you did), and that wasn’t a healthy pattern to be attached to.

peter’s body hovers over yours once again, held up by his muscular arms. your eyes attach to every detail on his face, admiring and memorizing his features in fear that he’ll leave again. he gazes at you like a living daydream, ethereal underneath him. one of his hands caresses your supple cheek, lightly swiping away your frisky hair. you practically purr into his touch, melting at his gentleness.

“peter,” you start, voice as fragile as thin glass.

“y/n.”

“please, don’t leave,” you insist in a whisper, hoping he’d stay. but you know he can’t.

“you know i can’t,” he says as you begin to sit up. see?

“when will i see you again? you can’t just… show up at any time,” you huff, sitting up straight as peter takes a seat beside you.

“i know i know…” peter thinks for a moment before reaching into his pocket. “here. you can put your number in my phone.”

your heart skips a simple beat. you extend your arm to snatch your phone on your nightstand before hesitatingly grabbing peter’s. you switch devices and enter your numbers. you label your name as ‘y/n :)’ and then you trade back phones, but don’t look at them.

“c’mere,” peter says and you curl your body into his. his warmth was addicting and cozy, and could easily make a great pillow for the future. “i’m sorry for not coming back sooner. i’ve been pretty busy with… everything i guess. i should’ve told you.” with your head cradled in his chest, he kisses your rumpled hair genuinely.

a sweet apology. could he get any better? is he just a figment of my imagination?

you lift up your head so you could see him looking down on you. “apology accepted, parker. but i feel like i’m being manipulated with your kisses.”

“how was i supposed to know you’re a sucker for forehead kisses?”

“everyone is a sucker for forehead kisses!” you whisper yell causing him to laugh wholeheartedly as quiet as possible. he kisses your head a few more times, making your heart full of affection and care.

how did you get lucky enough for peter parker to fall into your life? or more specifically, break into your house on two accounts?

“you never fulfilled your promise,” you said, referring to him having sex with you. don’t misunderstand, you were very grateful for what he gave you, but to be direct… you were greedy, needy, and missed his dick.

no time for beating around the bush.

“like i said, with time, i’m a man of my word,” which, in other words, means he’s not having sex with you. tonight, at least. you can’t help the small frown that appears on your lips.

“how much time? a girl has needs, you know,” you rose your eyebrows and pointed towards the closed laptop. peter puffed under his breath, causing you to smirk.

“there is a party this saturday… at my place. you should come,” peter informs.

“should i come or do you want me to come?” it was a test.

“if this is some sexual innuendo, yes—”

“jeez, get your mind out of the gutter, peter!” you roll your eyes and softly shove his chest, but a smile never ceases from your face. that only causes him to wrap his arms around you and squeeze you harder against his firm body.

he must live at the gym.

“you started talking about sex first!”

he’s not wrong.

“of course, i want you to come to the party, y/n,” peter smiles as his eyes wandering over every inch of your face. in any other scenario, gorging eyes would’ve made you feel insecure, but peter’s made you feel all flushed and tingly. “you’re the only person i want to be there.”

your smile enlarges even more and a rush of heat crawls up your neck. instead of kissing his lips for being such a romantic goofball, you decide to pull off his backward cap and kiss his forehead. the rosy blush that cascades his pale cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed.

“see! everyone likes forehead kisses!”

just as you say those words, peter hears footsteps padding across the hallway. he really didn’t want to leave you again, but he also really didn’t want to get caught. he sighs and you notice his change of demeanor, causing another frown to arise on your lips.

“you have to go, don’t you?”

“i’m sorry—”

“it’s okay. i’m glad you came. i’ll see you on saturday,” you smile genuinely and kiss his forehead again. he smiles, but catches your luscious lips instead. peter almost forgot about the footsteps, always lost in the moment with you.

he is obsessed with kissing you.

however, the moment is too short for both of your liking. peter struggles to pull himself away from you, but does because each footstep in the hallway is like a warning. with a finally kiss to your forehead, peter smiles endearingly before approaching your window, ready to jump out.

“oh, and peter?” as his hands are on the window, he turns around to look at you. “don’t forget these.”

you fling your panties at him and his quick reflexes have no problem catching them. you take his hat that he left on your bed and lay it on top of your head. peter cannot describe the fond feeling that bubbles up in his chest at the sight of you in his apparel. he’s sure he would die seeing you in his clothes if he’s starstruck from you in his cap.

a familiar heated flush blossoms on his cheeks as he lightly shakes his head with a few chuckles.

“you’re ridiculously cute,” is the last thing he says before he slides out the window and jumps down onto the ground.

ridiculously cute. you’ve never been called that before. are you surprised that you like it a lot? nope.

you still don’t understand how he doesn’t break a few limbs from jumping out of a two-story house, but again, that’s just one of the many things he’s skillful at. you wondered what else he was capable of. like you said, he seemed like a man full of secrets. some people thought of curiosity as a curse, but you saw it as a pathway to unknown opportunities.

not even a minute after peter left, there’s a knock at your bedroom door. you answer, skeptical, and one of your friends walks in.

“i know we’re not allowed to have any guys here, so you get kind of lonely, but when you’re watching porn at midnight can you please turn it down? i could hear it at the end of the hall,” she rubs her eyes and elicits a yawn. your eyes widen and you swallow thickly at the idea of the entire house hearing you.

you really thought you did a good job at being quiet…

“uh, yeah, sure thing,” you half smile as you apologize and wish her a better goodnight. you flick your lamp off and shift comfortably on your bed.

you gaze at the ceiling and imagine peter’s face above yours. you envisioned his lips, his cute nose, and each precious beauty mark on his face. it was easier to fall asleep knowing what his phone number was, and that saturday was only three days away.

—

those three days could not have been longer. the party was your motivation to wake up every day and go to class, eager as ever. you only saw peter once at school and that was not enough to satisfy the yearning you had inside of you. that yearning was also like an alarm clock that sprung you out of bed at eight a.m. on saturday.

you knew you had hours to waste, so you did all the things you had been procrastinating on: laundry, tidying up, few assignments due next week, and you even dusted parts of the house. yeah, you were that bored.

you weren’t sure what time the party started, but you would probably be able to tell from your window. you had no idea what you were going to wear even though you were thinking about it since wednesday. you believed you had a good sense of style, at least to your liking, but you don’t have all the clothes that you wish you had. living on a college budget wasn’t easy, but you made do.

at this point, it was only two in the afternoon, and you were about to run into the wall until your head was bleeding just to waste more time. this was the downside to having a ridiculously big crush on someone; the inescapable waiting. when crushing, time seems prolonged when you’re without them. but when you’re with them, the world seems to stop completely. it’s like nothing matters but just you two.

you remembered back to wednesday when peter was sitting on your bed and holding you snug against his body while you talked about such a mundane thing like a party invite. you could never erase the feeling of his kiss, his lips forever etched onto yours. the kiss felt like hours, but it was merely a minute before he had to pull away. you imagined what it would be like to just be with him without worrying about anything else. these daydreams cause the yearning in your chest to expand like a balloon, which is never going to satisfyingly explode until you’re in his arms again.

without making a big deal out of it, you needed a good outfit. so, you knocked on one of your “sister’s” doors. you weren’t a fan of the term “sorority sisters,” especially because none of these girls felt like sisters to you. yes, you were all decent friends who went to parties and went out to eat once a month together. but you weren’t as close to them as you were with your friends back at home. you missed them, but you’ve all moved on with your lives.

violet answers with a cheery come in and you walk into her room. you hint that you’re looking for a nice dress for the party tonight.

“i’m glad you came to me first,” she smiles as she stands up from her bed. she heads toward her closet, which is practically pouring out clothes that would laugh at yours. she had so many colors and choices, it was almost overwhelming and you weren’t even the one really choosing. “so. who’s the guy?”

“what? who said anything about a guy?”

“the fact that you want a nice dress for a frat party. you’ve never cared before, so it has to be a guy. so who is it?”

“it’s no one in particular,” you lie easily as you sit on her bed. she sifts through each dress in deep thought.

“so, you want a nice dress to catch any guy’s attention? i don’t buy it,” violet shakes her head, causing her long, black hair to wave.

not that you really care if she believes you, but what’s a believable lie? you know she’ll probably nag you about it the entire night if you don’t give her a valid excuse.

“if i’m being honest, i’m trying to, you know,” you raise your eyebrows high, motioning your hands as she whips around to face you. she nods as a knowing smirk grows on her lips. you weren’t technically lying–you did want to get laid, but you only had one person in mind that could do the job.

“i see. that’s all you needed to say,” she flips through more dresses before pulling out a short red one that makes your eyes widen. it looked nice, too nice, and you didn’t want to ruin anything she had because you’d probably spend the next few months paying to replace it. “let’s get you ready.”

“but the party is in–”

“nuh uh, we’re getting ready now. also, we’re making it into a costume.”

–

for once, you’re glad you listened to violet about getting ready early because it was already six o’clock by the time you guys were both finished. you somehow gave in to the idea of her dolling you up into some kind of sexy spider woman? you didn’t really know. she thought the red and blue accented your skin nicely. violet did what she wanted. you didn’t even plan on wearing a costume in the first place, so you didn’t really mind.

your hair was down and wavy. you had her short red dress on and white fishnet tights. she also gave you royal blue heels. she painted black webs on your eyes with eyeliner while you wore a matching red lipstick. it was a lot more than you expected to see on yourself when you looked in her vanity mirror. hopefully, the look is as attractive and alluring as violet says it is. meanwhile, violet dressed as “slutty catwoman” (her words, not yours).

and yes, violet was going. everyone at mit would be going. it was one of those annual parties that's been going on for years, even before your class was there.

you enjoyed that; traditions and routines. they created memories and showed the change through each generation. thinking back, you bet your ancestors would die of a heart attack if they saw the way you were dressed and the things people did at these parties. but none of those thoughts stopped you from leaving the sorority house and walking across the street to the frat party.

you hadn’t even walked in yet, and the music was booming throughout the neighborhood. through the blinds that failed to close, you could see the technicolor lights flashing in redirection. cars of every shade were parked for probably miles down the street, and you knew as the night went on the number of people would only increase.

violet walked in front of you, strutting through the door like she owned the place. you followed behind her almost cowardly, but you weren’t really looking for everyone’s attention anyway. just one.

however, you forgot that the whole reason violet believed you were wearing this dress in the first place was for that exact reason. so, when she realized your shyness, she turned around and shook all your nerves out of you. literally. she shook your shoulders until you were woozy and nearly stumbling over your heels (you are now wishing you wore sneakers). it was like you were already tipsy by the time she was done.

she dragged you towards the kitchen without any words, seeming as though you wouldn’t be able to hear them over the blaring music and loud chatter. bottles of liquor decorated the marble countertop along with blue and red solo cups, trashed like a 90’s high school movie. violet grabbed the first bottle she saw, pouring the dark liquid into a cup she somehow snagged.

“your turn,” she shoves the bottle and cup towards your body as a stranger bumps into you from the back. the place was getting packed, making it hard to find anywhere to breathe. “some liquid courage.”

“i’m okay. i will later, though,” you rejected, not liking the idea of being drunk when you had a goal in mind. by the end of the night, you really wanted to be in peter’s bed. but you hated the idea of being drunk while having sex, especially when you wanted to enjoy it. you only indulged in drunk sex when you really needed to get off and one; didn’t want to remember what happened, or second; didn’t want it to last longer than that night. mostly the latter.

you know what it feels like to be with peter, and you craved to feel like that again. just thinking about him made you feel a thousand different kinds of wonderful; heart racing, stomach swirling, core burning. you knew the second you found him it would be hard to keep your hands away.

–

peter finally decides to shuffle down his stairs for the first time tonight. when the roaring music began an hour ago, he knew the party had, too, but he didn’t feel like going down yet. he couldn’t help but peek out his blinds in his bedroom, waiting to see you crossing the street.

he swears he was in his bedroom for at least an hour, occasionally peeking out the window, impatiently waiting for your arrival. with a slight frown on his face, he realizes that you might not be coming.

why would you?

peter assumed that you just now noticed how creepy it was for him to sneak into your bedroom. twice. maybe all your smiles and kisses were just silent pleads to make him leave the room faster. but your laugh seemed so genuine, and the sweet, little noises that you muffled under your palms were from real pleasure. right?

you were moaning his name.

he imagined you strutting across the street in a jaw-dropping dress, one that would send him into a frenzy. but you would be too humble and would shrug it off like you were the most average person on earth. peter would scoff and take you into his arms and drag you up into his room. then he would admire you until you believed you were the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen.

open mouth kisses etched on your naked body. bites and pinches of tease. your sweet hums and delicately broken moans. nails clawing into his tough skin greedily. his voice guiding and praising you while yours is disheveled in pleasure.

god, he’s so in his head. he’s so far gone. and he barely knows you.

like a daydreaming idiot, he slaps the side of his head a few times to get his brain back into reality. he stares at his appearance in the mirror, silently motivating himself to have a good night whether or not you show up.

taking a deep breath, he finally exits his bedroom. of course, the music is booming and the place is already as crowded as a concert. peter trails down the stairs, but stops midway when he sees the top of your head.

is that you? how did he miss you?

moving swiftly down the steps, he weaves his way through the crowd, his fake glasses nearly slipping down his face. multiple people try to stop and chat with him, but he doesn’t indulge for long, having a clear destination in mind.

but, just when he reaches the kitchen, you’re gone.

he swears he just saw you. maybe he’s going crazy.

releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, peter pushes through a few more bodies before reaching the sliding glass door. he squeezed himself outside and inhales. when you’re in a house full of sweaty, drunk people smoking weed, you become more grateful for the fresh air.

he removes his glasses and tucks them into his neckline. his eyes gaze at the backyard’s minuscule decorations, and then to the sky. he stares at the stars as they wink at him, reassuring that everything will be alright. he wishes that the town won’t need saving tonight and that everyone will be on their best behavior. he hopes that you’ll come to the party, even if it doesn’t end with you in his arms.

even though that’s all he really wants.

“peter?” a voice speaks, and the sound was so elegant and soft that he thought the stars themselves were talking to him. he forces himself to blink a few times before spinning around to face you.

he nearly faints when he sees your costume.

short red dress, white tights, blue heels, black webs. you were dressed as spider-man, or spider girl, and you looked absolutely fucking stunning. you would be the death of peter. seriously, he thinks he might pass out from lust and admiration looking at you. you were just so drop-dead gorgeous, he couldn’t believe it.

maybe the stars were on his side tonight. unless they wanted to kill him…

“are you okay?” your soft voice of concern walks straight up to him, delicate hand resting on his shoulder.

“y-yeah,” peter stutters before coughing. is it surprising that he’s already half hard? a small blush cascades his pale cheeks. “you look… really fucking good.”

there’s no dancing around it.

now, familiar heat warms your neck, cheeks, and ears at his compliment. his voice was low, so only you could hear it over the screaming music, and it was laced with a small growl that had your stomach flipping. your hand fell from his shoulder.

“thanks,” you couldn’t think of what else to say, but then you looked at his outfit, which was little to none. actually, he was wearing normal clothes. peter was probably the only person at the party without a costume. “i guess i had to go all out since you decided not to wear anything. it’s your party and you didn’t think to dress up?”

peter laughs, breaking any invisible tension that might have been there. god, you loved his laugh. it was so childlike and full of joy, that you couldn’t help but smile.

“i have a costume. hold on,” peter puts on his glasses.

“if you say you’re a hot nerd—”

“nuh uh, i’m a super hot nerd,” he then rips the buttons off half of his flannel, presenting the superman symbol on his chest. rolling your eyes, it was your turn to laugh. your hand covers your face at his silliness as you lean against the nearby wall for support.

“you’re such an idiot.”

“i can’t be a nerd and an idiot, angel.”

“somehow, you make it work,” you both chuckle with huge smiles on your faces, unable to look away from each other.

“hey, dickwad,” flash abruptly appears from the sliding glass door that you two were standing by. he was dressed as spider-man, which nearly made peter cry laughing out of irony when he first found out this morning, but he kept that to himself. “—oh, hey, y/n. nice costume! at least someone has taste.”

“superman is a great superhero—”

“whatever, dude. at least spiderman is real!” flash shouts before parading away, repeating the statement to his next victims that will hear him.

“what do you have against spider-man?” you ask, leaning against the rough wall by just your arm. you were too afraid to have the dress touch it, in fear of ripping or ruining it.

“nothing,” peter shrugs.

“oh, c’mon,” you shove at his shoulder playfully. “just say you don’t believe in him. it’s okay.”

“what! of course, i believe in him, he’s not santa claus.”

“oh my god, santa isn’t real?!” you pretend to be shocked, hands slapping your cheeks. peter lightly chuckles and rolls his eyes before nonchalantly grabbing your hand. your heart speeds up in your chest at his simple movement while your breathing halters.

and just like that he’s in control.

“do you want to get a drink?” peter’s thumb plays with the skin of your knuckles while he waits for your answer. but you can’t think of anything right now besides the soft caress being tattooed onto you.

“no, i’m not in the mood to drink tonight,” you replied, hoping that gave peter a hint at how you wanted the night to go. peter wasn’t as stupid as most guys, so you have high hopes that he understood the foreshadow.

“well, what are you in the mood for?” his voice was low again, speckles of lust wavering in it. he takes a step closer to you, and you can’t help but lay flat against the wall. you weren’t even thinking about the condition of the dress anymore. you swallowed as your stomach burned in anticipation.

“somewhere quiet,” your eyes flickered between his darkening eyes and his pink lips.

“it won’t stay quiet as long as you’re there,” a cheeky smile rises up on his lips as heat floods through your body. you hit his shoulder lightly, embarrassment flushing your cheeks.

following him and his contagious smile, peter drags you through the crowds of people. there were more people in the house than when you arrived, but you’re not surprised. the upstairs section of the frat was basically off-limits to most people, unless you really had to go to the bathroom and the downstairs one was taken. you’ve been to the house a few times, but you’ve never stayed long enough to go upstairs.

but tonight everything is different.

unlike your wooden floors, peter’s are carpeted, so you’re walking very carefully on your heels. when you reach the top step, your calves are slightly burning from the exercise.

looking both ways, peter leads you towards his bedroom at the end of the hallway, hands intertwined. it felt secretive, and a part of you liked it. he closes the door right when you got inside, locking it quickly. but while he’s doing so, your hands release from his to explore his room. he rushes to clean his messes books.

peter had a gray and black color scheme that was alluring. his dark gray sheets looked soft and plush, and you could imagine yourself sleeping in them every night. were you getting ahead of yourself? maybe. you barely knew him, but you felt like you’ve known him forever. you glance around his room some more, trying to get to know him.

he had two band posters; led zeppelin and guns n’ roses. you didn’t expect the second one, but it impressed you. his desk was scattered with textbooks and papers like he had just been studying. turning around you see his two-mirror closet. it was slightly ajar, letting you see a few boxes.

“what’s in the boxes?” you ask, slowly creeping your way towards them. you don’t miss peter’s eyes widening slightly and his cheeks heating up. now you have to know.

“n-nothing important,” peter scratches the back of his neck, and if he’s trying to hide something, he’s doing a horrible job at it. on the sides of each box were black handwriting.

“trophies and medals,” you read aloud, inching your way towards the door, “books—”

“y/n, don’t!” peter exclaimed nervously with a hand reaching out to stop you, causing you to turn around and eye his expression. he swallowed thickly, praying you didn’t open the box. his anxiety was at an all time high. “there’s… personal stuff in there.”

“okay, okay. you don’t want anyone to know you have sexy magazines,” you rolled your eyes and huffed out a chuckle. “i get it. i’m not jealous.”

“yeah…” peter’s cheeks don’t cool down, still red and warm. for some reason, he senses the awkward tension arising in the atmosphere around you both, and he doesn’t know how to tame it. you both know what you want now, but it’s hard to bring it up without being so forward.

“did i tell you that you look good in glasses?” you speak after the few seconds of silence. you get yourself comfortable on the edge of his bed, unstrapping your heels from your already sore feet. you groan. “feels so much better.”

“thanks,” peter joins with a never-ending blush, sitting next to you. he’s itching to touch you.

why was it so much easier when he broke in?

he turns to face you and stares at your eye makeup. you had little black webs on the corner of your eyes. for some strange reason, the idea of you dressing up as him really turned him on. even if you didn’t know it was him.

“peter,” you said a bit breathlessly. your heart was racing with anticipation and lust. he hadn’t even noticed you were staring right back at him. you could look at each other for hours, but you really wanted more. needed it. subconsciously, you were both leaning forward towards your lips.

“yeah?” peter’s gaze never faltered. his honey brown eyes darkened to black.

“i brought something for you,” his eyes shifted from your lips to your eyes, curious.

“it’s not even christmas yet,” he smiles, “and what’s that?” you leaned closer to him, your lips hovering over his ear.

“it’s a surprise,” you whispered seductively, grabbing his hand and placing it on your thigh. he doesn’t hesitate to rub the supple skin covered by fishnet, warm and smooth.

when you pull away just the slightest, peter crashes his lips to yours. the kiss was as passionate as your feelings for him, erupting your anticipation and nerves in small gasps. he shifts you over to his lap, so you’re straddling him. instantly, you buck your hips into his crotch, desperate for more than a heated kiss.

your heart is thrashing in your chest and there’s a familiar burn in the lower part of your stomach. your hands roam his brown hair, exploring his locks like it’s new territory. except it’s not. you’ve never felt like you’ve known someone so well without even knowing them that well. the chasing, the waiting, the wanting, the needing, the wondering—it was the strangest feeling, and you were addicted to it.

you pop your lips off of peter, puffy and pink. you both take a second to breathe before you start kissing down his neck. you’re not shy with your teeth, leaving marks on his tough skin that’s shielding layers of muscle.

when you get to his collarbone, you nearly whine because he still has his flannel and shirt on. you swear you’ve never been more horny or desperate in your life.

“relax, sweet girl,” peter reassures, petting your hair while you look up at him. “we have all night.”

just tonight? you thought. what about the other nights? and days?

after a soft sigh, you nod and begin unbuttoning his flannel. your hands are a bit shaky from all the anticipation and the rapid beat of your heart. of course peter notices.

“are you alright?” he questions softly, being the caring guy he is.

“yeah, just nervous, i guess,” you answer honestly because he makes it easy to. he’s comforting and he cares.

so why are you nervous?

but instead of asking you why, he says, “me too.”

after you undo the last button and gently remove his flannel, you delicately smile at him. it was so pretty, peter couldn’t help but smile too. you tug on the end of his superman t-shirt, and he yanks it off. and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his immaculate figure. it was sculpted to perfection, as if he was given his body from some drug. or maybe even the gods.

his hand raises to caress your supple cheek, causing you to stare at his face before he’s kissing you again. it started off sweet and gentle, like how peter saw you. but it didn’t take long for it to be rougher and full of lust. peter could feel his jeans tightening underneath you, and he wasn’t stupid enough to confuse the scent of your arousal with perfume or something.

trying again, your lips go to trail down peter’s neck again. his breath is wavering our sighs of pleasure as you lick and nibble his skin.

“gonna tell me that surprise?” peter asks, hands crawling up to the back of your dress. he’s sure to be careful as he drapes the straps down, the top slowly sliding down as you make out with his chest. you push peter’s body down so he’s laying flat on the bed, not answering him. “not gonna answer?”

you weren’t. you didn’t have time for all the things you wanted to do with him. all the things you wanted him to do to you. maybe you were too far gone to think it would take more than a night to be fulfilled by peter. more than two. more than a week? maybe a month. you’d keep going until you’re sick and tired, but you don’t think you could ever get sick or tired of peter parker.

lost within the feeling of his body, you barely comprehend when he flips you dramatically over. his hard body hovers above yours, your dress barely hiding your peaked nipples.

“i ask you a question, baby,” he husks, breath fanning over your skin and traveling toward your ear. a shiver scatters up your spine and a spark of lust fires in your clit.

“you have to wait and see,” you answered breathlessly, a smirk rising on your face.

a dark color covers his eyes. peter doesn’t like not knowing something, so he’s desperate to figure out your little “surprise.”

with little to no effort, violet’s dress is tugged all the way down your body. he tosses it gracefully onto his bedroom floor, but doesn’t pay any mind to it as he gazes over your body. he hasn’t seen you since wednesday and he was craving you like crazy. he thought he was going to go insane. but as he stares down at your figure adorning white fishnets sexily, he finally knows what it’s like to go crazy.

“is this my surprise? because, fuck, you look like a prize.”

you giggle as his rough fingertips trail down your torso. your nipples ache from neglect and the chilly october air that somehow breezes through the room. your body arches up into his touch, needing him badly. maybe you should just tell him the surprise.

but wouldn’t it be so much better if he just found it himself?

“can i unwrap my present?” peter teases with a cheeky smile, nudging at the waistline of your fishnets. you know that the second you open your legs he’s going to see your wetness leaking from the fabric.

“yes, peter,” you can’t help but laugh.

“do you care if i rip them?”

“what?”

“can i rip them?”

“i don’t—” the quiet sound of stretching and ripping cuts you off. he tore your fishnets. well, violet’s fishnets. “peter!”

“too late. i’ve never been good at unwrapping gifts,” he quickly kisses your cheek in a sweet apology, “luckily, i’m pretty good at taking care of them.”

you roll your eyes at his cheesiness, but can’t help but smile like a little kid. as he makes his way down your body again, he widens your legs and sees his surprise. your heart throbs just like your aching cunt.

“ah, so that’s my surprise,” he grumbles. it’s hard for him to keep it together right now.

peter stares darkly at the small purple toy peeking out from your bare pussy. you had no panties on, which in peter’s eyes, seemed ironic. from the top of his eyes, he sees the tiny smirk creeping up onto your lips.

his hand crawls up your leg until it reaches the soaking folds of your throbbing cunt. he pets your slit delicately, like you’d break if he fully touched you. you might. even from that simple touch, you were squirming underneath him, silently begging for more.

“how long has this been keeping you full?” he questions, curious, “is this what you’ve been using while i was gone?”

“mhm,” you hum when his fingers find your puffy clit, throbbing with desire. you leaked all around the purple toy, wetness gushing from you.

“look at you. fucking soaked. what made you this wet? was it the toy?” peter circles your clit faster, making your breath falter. you try to keep your eyes strained on him, but the feeling is just too incredible to focus on anything else. “answer me.”

“n-not the toy,” you stutter with breathlessness. a wavering moan elicits from you.

“then why are you so wet?” he taunts, and the low level of his voice floods over your body just right. you clench needily around the toy right in front of him, causing him to growl.

“you! nothing makes me wet like you do,” you admit head falling back on the pillow as his rough pace gives in. he’s satisfied with your answer, so he goes to a full, fast rhythm.

you’re so dazed with your orgasmic chase that your body rumbles as it nears. to make matters more intense, peter testingly pushes the small button on the bottom of the toy. it springs to life, vibrating your entire insides electrifingly. a broken moan escapes your swollen lips, and you just pray it’s hidden behind the heavy beat of the party music.

your legs shake in his hands as his head lowers. you’re so close to your high and then he does even more? you swear you were going to explode.

his challenging mouth sucks harshly on your clit, devouring you like you were his last meal on earth. instead of the bed sheets, your hands find their way to his soft hair, tucking the roots with triumph.

you’re breathless and you’re close. so, so close. you can see your orgasm in front of you like a sunset and you’re riding straight into it on a horse.

“peter!” you cry when he nibbles on your clit, a smirk pressed against you. it was nice to release your moans without having to muffle them down. your core tenses like never before, overwhelmed by the extreme pleasure. “i’m coming—oh, fuck, please let me come!”

“go ahead, sweet girl,” he pops off of you and replaces his mouth with his thick fingers. “give it all to me.”

so you do. you release every tension within you that was holding you back. with eyes screwed closed, your back arches from the high. the wetness squeezes out of you while peter eases you through it. he switches off the vibrator and puts it somewhere besides you on the bed.

he lowers his head to clean up the mess with delight. when he comes back up, the grin on his face is toothy and contagious. you reflect it back, wondering how you got so lucky. how were you lucky enough for your intruder to be peter parker?

“you okay, angel?” peter asks, thumb caressing your heated cheek bone with concern. you’re melting into his touch, hoping to be a part of him forever. you wouldn’t mind.

“yeah, just… thinking.”

“good or bad?”

“i’ll tell you later,” you smile as you recall all the small thoughts you have of peter. peter rolls his eyes dramatically as your hands rub down his chest.

“but… i was wondering if i could be on top? just wanna try it. i need it,” you stare into his eyes and patiently wait for an answer. you’ve never been on top before, but with peter it seems like it would be really fun.

“i don’t know. do you want me to die?”

you laugh, forcing you to look away from his brown eyes. you push peter off the bed until he’s standing and ask him to take off his pants. when he’s completely naked, he goes to lean against his headboard, ready for you to sit on him. you crawl over to him as he puts on a condom from his bedside table.

“ready, baby?” he massages your upper arms.

“you’re being too nice, peter,” you note as you throw your legs over his hips. you didn’t actually know what you were doing, but confidence is key. if you just pretended like you knew, it would look like it, right?

“what? do you want me to be mean, baby? ‘cause i can be mean.”

“don’t think you’re really capable.”

“we’ll see then, doll,” peter says deeply as his hand grips your hip tightly.

as you slowly lower your body with peter’s guidance, you feel his tip enter you. it was a different feeling than being on the bottom. you had more control, but you had to do more work. you’re not sure if you cared to have so much free reign. you kind of preferred when peter took the wheel.

you rocked your hips forward, feeling his hard cock fully inside of you. it was stretching you completely out. you couldn’t get up if you tried. there was a pain mixed with pleasure that filled you up so good.

“c’mon, y/n. fuck yourself on my cock,” he growled in encouragement as you attempted to lift your hips up. you barely move because you’re squeezing around his cock so tight, like if you let go you’ll die. peter lightly moans as you squeeze him, wondering if he’ll die right here inside of you.

“i-i can’t,” you whine.

“you can’t? thought you needed it?” he taunts. peter can be mean if he really wanted to,

“it’s too hard.”

“you’re not even trying. good girls at least try. don’t you want to be a good girl?”

peter thrusts up into you once to make you moan, which works successfully. you spit out your broken moan with your hands clawing his biceps.

“barely moved and you’re already moaning. pathetic, really. you asked me to be on top and you can’t even take it.”

you clench around his prick at his degrading words. you didn’t think he could be mean, but you were wrong. his words were just the right amount of degrading that made you weak and so, so wet.

“look at that. my girl’s getting off on words like pathetic,” my girl. the two words nearly cause you to come right then and there. then peter thrusts up into you with purpose in each movement. as one hand grips your hip, the other floats up to your breast and fingers your nipple. he flicks and tweaks at it, causing you to arch into his touch. “what about slut? do like when i call you my slut?”

“fuck, peter,” you groan at his dirty talking. with each pump, you would feel every inch of him inside of you, filling you up completely. although you’re so full, you needed it harder and faster, and it was going to be difficult to get it from this angle when you’re not being much help.

before the begging words even slip from your mouth, peter is flipping you both over with ease. he doesn’t waste a second to slide back into you, causing your body to erupt in flames.

he begins with hard pumps, slowly gaining speed. but once he’s going fast, you could barely focus on your senses. you swear you could hear colors.

the sounds of your moans, shrieks, and screams echo throughout his bedroom. you don’t care if people could hear you. you hoped they could. you hoped they knew how good peter was destroying you, so they knew you were his.

peter hoped the same thing.

“so, so good, peter,” your eyes rolled to the back of your head in ecstasy.

“yeah? such a slut for my cock, huh?” he teases, voice low and lustful. “so cockdumb that you couldn’t even ride me.”

“i-i can do it,” a breathless moan escaped you, but you were too floaty to understand what you were really saying.

“oh, now you can do it? well, it’s too late, sweetheart.”

peter’s pace doesn’t falter. he makes sure to make every thrust count as he hits every angle. you cry out in bliss, chasing your orgasm like your life depends on it.

“i’m close,” the whine that elicits from you is groggy and strained from how sore it feels. you can’t even imagine how raw it would be from taking him down your throat…

for another time.

his rough hand trails down between you until he’s pressing his hand down on your stomach. with every shift of his cock he can feel himself moving through you. as he puts more pressure, you both collectively moan at the feeling.

“can you feel me? can you feel me deep inside of your little cunt? do you feel me right here?” peter drags your trembling hand to place it on your lower torso, right where he’s nonstop thrusting into you.

“yes, peter! fuck, you’re so big. i feel you in my tummy,” you clamp around his cock, your orgasm right around the corner. “please, please let me come. i’ve been good.”

“have you? you couldn’t even ride me even when i let you.”

“i’m sorry, peter–please. need to so bad,” your eyes are squeezed shut as you beg peter. his hand that was on top of yours drifts down to your clit. he stimulates it by rubbing in tight circles that have you seeing stars. every muscle is in your body is screaming and pleading for release while he overstimulates you more. “want to be good!”

“yeah? want to be a good girl?” a needy moan elicits from you. “then come for me. right now while you’re squeezing me.”

the air surrounding you turned wistful and cloudy. your body rumbled and erupted as you orgasmed, shaking with desire as it poured out of you. you thought the first time that you and peter fucked was the best sex you’ve ever had, but after tonight, you’ve never been more wrong. maybe it’s because you two are a little more comfortable with each other. maybe it’s because you told him to be a little mean. whatever it was, it was the best fucking sex you’ve ever had. because it was more than sex. it felt like more.

peter’s orgasm trails yours, making sure that you come first. his thrusts were slowier and sloppier as he pants out heavy breaths. before exiting you, his hand reaches up to caress your face.

“okay?” his voice was a bit raspy as he came down from his high. his arms were on either side of your head, and you felt safe and protected.

“more than,” you smiled dopily at peter, whose eyes were twinkling. reflecting a smile, peter begins to pull out of you. “do we have to?”

“have to what?” he stops his movements, half-way out of you. you hated the empty feeling that started to flood over you because you knew he’d leave soon. well, you would leave soon.

“leave. can’t we just stay in here all night?” you question. a part inside of you was scared for his rejection, that he was going to kick you out and then that was it. but the other half of you had the courage to ask because you knew it would all be fine.

“i would–”

“oh, there’s a but coming.”

“but i need to eat. and so do you,” he pulls out of you and rids out the condom within a few seconds. you don’t move from your flat position on the bed, feeling the cold waves of loneliness flooding over you already. peter had a tingle that you wanted more. you wanted to stay, but you were too nervous to ask. you were good at giving him big hints, though.

he loves the idea of you staying. laying with you and hearing your soft breaths as you sleep. cuddling close to be warm from the cold air. peter’s heart lurches at the wonderful thought.

peter reaches for his clothes and dresses. you bend over and slip on the dress, without the fishnets. your hair was probably a mess, but you didn’t care because the only person you cared about seeing tonight was peter.

once you’re dressed with shaky hands, peter stands in front of you and rests his hands on your shoulders. delicately, he caresses your neck as you practically pur into his warm touch. you felt your heart rate pick up, even though he was just inside of you.

“and then, if you’d like, we can come back up here,” he presses his chest against yours as his voice softens, “and we can lay in bed, watch a movie, and not worry about being caught because we don’t have rules like you do.”

although your heart was beating fast already, you’ve never felt more comfortable. he made you feel reassured, and you couldn’t ask for more. with a smile rising to your lips, peter’s heart skips a beat at the wistfulness cascading throughout his body. your lips were soft and kissable, your skin was glowing with an orgasmic shine, and your makeup was a bit smudged, but you still looked like peter’s perfect girl.

his girl.

“wait, before we eat, i have to get some stuff at the sorority.”

“okay,” he says, “put this on. it’s freezing and your wearing practically nothing.”

he throws a hoodie at you and you catch it with blinking eyes. it as a small gesture, but your heart was melting. you slip it over your head without any question. and then he’s dragging you out of the extremely loud and crowded house. no one says or questions anything, and you’ve never been more glad to be so invisible.

–

“what are you doing? come on!”

“what if they see me?”

“there’s no one home!” you whisper-shouted at peter as you walked through the door. there was a key under the flower pot that worked great when you forgot your key.

it’s kind of ironic that you are both sneaking into your sorority. it’s a full circle moment.

you both tiptoe through the clean, white house. peter nearly takes his shoes off because he’s scared he’ll leave dirt footprints in his trail. he really does not want to be seen in this house knowing what happened to flash the last time they snuck in. but it’s peter’s job to be stealthy, so he hopes he could keep up the good work.

you make it up the stairs and head straight for your room. peter remembered exactly which one was yours, now that he’s been in it two times somehow. once you’re both inside, he shuts the door behind him quietly like someone would hear him.

“why did we just tiptoe all the way up here? there’s no one even here!” you say in a normal level voice as a chuckle follows after. peter laughs with you as you search your drawers for some clothes.

“i feel it’s only right to bring the mit one, right?”

“definitely.”

“wait, did you leave the vibrator on your bed?”

“uh… yeah. sorry.”

“peter!” your skin grows warm with the idea that someone might stumble into his bedroom and find it just lying there. you cringe at yourself.

you pack a small overnight bag with your most needed essentials. peter sits patiently on your bed, practically swinging his feet as he analyzes your bedroom. it was simple with a few picture frames of family and friends. your room was basically plain white with a few pink and blue items scattered around the place. in all, it was you. he couldn’t think of a better sorority room to fit your vibe, your personality better than this room. it was naturally gorgeous, like you.

even though peter was looking around your room, he was still watching you pack. he observed when you folded a pair of night shorts with the mit t-shirt and even threw in an outfit for the next day just in case you two went out. but you were missing something.

“okay, let me grab my toothbrush,” you quickly left the room and in no-time were back. “let’s go. i’m hungry now.”

“but you’re forgetting something,” peter says. you blink, wondering what you might be forgetting.

“but i grabbed everything–” you watch as peter glides towards your dresser drawers. he opens the top left and immediately finds your colorful panties and underwear. your eyes widen in embarrassment, even though he’s seen you naked multiple times. something about him staring at your undergarments was just a little more… vulnerable?

peter snatches two different colors, a royal blue one and a vibrant red one, similar to the first one he saw you in. of course, he picked these colors purposely.

“which one? i’m thinking the blu–”

“what are you doing! that’s my underwear!” you tried to reach for them dangling in his hands, but he was way quicker than you. it’s like he knew before you even moved.

“well, i think at this point it’s kind of a tradition for me to take one, no? i couldn’t take them earlier because you weren’t wearing any!”

your neck and cheeks flush with embarrassment. yeah, you may have been confident when in the moment, but talking about it just made your face hot. peter always knew how to get you going. to get quickly out of this situation, you grumble, “blue.”

and with that, you were on your way back to the frat house. the party was still going strong and surprisingly, no one asked where either of you were. when you and peter walked through the door, people just acted like you’ve been there the whole time. but they were also drunk and high, so was it really that shocking?

within the first few minutes of you and peter being in the congested house, you both look at each other with a knowing look. there was no way you two could eat in this populous, mess of a place.

“diner?” peter shouts over the blaring music. he swore flash turned it up to full volume, even when peter told him specifically not to do that.

“exactly what i was thinking,” you reply loudly as you squeeze your bodies through the crowd. peter slides his hand into yours as you shift through everybody. a spark of electricity nearly shocks you.

when you approach his car, you throw your bag at the bottom of your feet before dropping into his passenger seat. you both inhale and exhale the refreshing night time air. the house smelt like marjuana and sweat, but his car was scented with pine and fresh leather.

as he started the car, you two didn’t say anything. and it was perfect. it was comfortable. it was safe. you turn your head to look at peter, whose eyes were fighting between the road and you. your heart skips a beat that’s getting familiar as you smile softly. gently, your hands intertwine as you ride on to the diner.

your journey with peter started… differently than most. but you liked the idea of having a tradition with peter. sure, it may not be traditional, but it was yours. you would both have to create a fundraiser for all these panties he will be stealing because they’re not cheap!

is it really stealing if you know he’s taking them? whatever.

when people ask how you guys met, it’s going to be a funny story. how many people break into someone’s house as a dare and then fall in love with them? not many.

wait… love?

–

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. i could not be more grateful for the love on panty stealer. i never thought any of my writing would get this much notice, so thank you (times three) for all the likes, comments, and reblogs.

note: i won’t be making anymore full parts, however, i will do blurbs/drabbles of these two if requested!

taglist: @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @marzipaanz @sylum @harrys-humble-housewife @blurazbabe @introverbatim @piperparker7 @graceberman3 @tommy-braccoli @fioooweeooweeeoo @conrad4life13

crossed out= not able to tag

[erinwantstowrite]

currently writing out some stuff for "Itsy Bitsy" (what I'm calling the one shot where Peter gets magically de-aged for a little bit) and I went back and looked at what I wrote a while ago and found some gems

[forever-rogue]

TASM!Peter thought I cannot get out of my head for the life of me: Reader pestering him about him and his weird spider abilities like Ned in the MCU movies, but he’s just so loving and patient because he knows he’s weird and she’s naturally curious

AN | Imagine finding out your boyfriend is Spider-Man. It’s going to leave you with a lot of questions, isn’t it?❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings | mild language

Word Count | 2.8k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Peter?”

“This isn’t what it-”

“No way!”

“Babe, this is not. I”m not-”

“Holy fuck.”

“Please, you’re dreaming. I’m not actually-”

“Spider-Man,” you blinked a few times and scrubbed at your eyes just to make sure you weren’t dreaming. But when you looked back at your boyfriend he was still standing there, halfway between the window and bathroom, mask in hand and spandex still covering his body. He looked entirely mortified at having been caught, “Peter.”

“Honey, it’s not…I…” he hung his head and let out a long sigh, annoyed with himself for being so careless, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re Spider-Man,” it was all setting in and you weren’t quite sure how to feel; it was a wild mixture of excitement and annoyance and worry and love - everything all at once, “I…you never told me. We’ve been together for almost three years.”

“I know, sweetheart…it was just better than way,” he tossed the mask onto the couch and took a few steps closer to you. You tensed up and shook your head, “I just wanted to keep you safe. That’s all.”

“You lied to me,” you pouted at him and that was enough to break his heart. If there was anything he hated in the world, it was seeing you upset, “for years.”

“I didn’t lie,” he tried softly but you huffed at him, “purposely. You know I would never do anything to hurt you. Everything I do is to protect you.”

“I feel so stupid,” you scrubbed a hand over your tired face in exasperation. All the weird quirks and odd comings and goings seemed to make sense. It felt almost silly that you hadn’t put the pieces together before. Peter wasn’t exactly subtle, “all this time. The random bruises and cuts…the times you suddenly have to leave - your weird schedule. It seems so obvious, doesn’t it? I…Peter Parker.”

“Baby-”

“You’re trying to keep me safe but what about you?” a deep frown settle on your features and Peter shook his head, trying to keep you from going down that particular train of thought, “oh my god. Anything could happen to you! And what if…if something did happen, how would I know?”

Peter gently shushed you, his strong hands settling on your shoulders with a reassuring squeeze. You looked at him, studying his big honey brown eyes and tried to keep the tears in your own eyes from spilling over, “nothing is going to happen to me, I swear it. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“It isn’t funny,” you sniffled as a few tears ran down your cheeks, quickly and tenderly wiped away by Peter, “I love you, you dumb bug. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” he whispered, brushing his knuckles along your cheek, “you know why?”

“Why?” you huffed softly, reaching for his hand and bringing it to your lips so you could press a kiss to it.

“Because I have to get home to you,” he smiled softly, looking more boyish than anything. You exhaled slowly but nodded, “I’m always going to come home to you. There’s nothing I want more.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he agreed and you allowed yourself to relax slightly, “by the way, spiders aren’t bugs. Spiders are spiders…well arachnids but they’re a completely separate thing.”

“Fine, you big dumb spider,” you let out a small laugh before playfully rolling your eyes, “you’re just lucky you look in spandex.”

“Yeah?” he teased, turning in a circle and striking a pose, “you think?”

“Shut up,” you groaned as he laughed, “just come to bed with me. But just so you know, this conversation isn’t over.”

“I would expect nothing less, love.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It took some time to get used to the idea of Peter, your sweet, nerdy, wonderful boyfriend, being Spider-Man. He just never seemed capable of something like that but when you really thought about it, it all made sense. Peter was brilliant and had a kind soul; him helping people just went hand in hand with who he was. 

You weren’t sure if you’d ever get over your worries that something would happen to him - just like he wanted to protect you, you wanted to protect him. That, however, didn’t negate the fact that you had numerous questions for him. You wanted to know everything you could about him well, his spider abilities rather. 

You were curious, luckily Peter loved that curiosity. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Where do your webs come from?” you’d been wrapped up in the book you were reading but the question suddenly hit. Peter was sitting across the couch from you, doing some work on his laptop. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you, causing your face to warm up, “I just…you have webby stuff, right? Like…where does it come from?”

“Web shooters,” he answered simply, closing his laptop with a soft laugh and giving you his full attention, “it doesn’t come out of my body, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“But spiders have it-”

“Not a spider,” he reminded you as you closed your book and tossed it on the coffee table, “human-spider hybrid. Kind of. I think that’s what you’d call it.”

“Why don’t they call you Human-Spider-Hybrid-Man?” you made a small sound of surprise as Peter reached over and gently maneuvered you onto his lap. His large hands settled on your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “wouldn’t that be more accurate?”

“You’re overthinking it,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I don’t make it in my body. I make it at the lab.”

“My genius Human-Spider-Hybrid,” you grinned at him and he couldn’t help but return the smile. To say he adored you was putting it lightly, “will you show me sometime? I wanna see it in action.”

He cocked his head to the side as he let go of your waist and held his arms up. You looked at him in confusion and he pulled back the sleeves of his sweater, “they’re right here.”

“Oh,” you reached for one of his arms and looked over the small band around his wrist, “oh? I always thought they were just…bracelets.”

“That’s the point,” he said as you made a small sound of revelation. You held his hand in yours and gave it a tight squeeze, “it’s really not that exciting.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” how could he think being Spider-Man wasn’t exciting? You took his face gently in your hands as you studied the pretty boy, “you are always fascinating and exciting to me.”

“That’s because you love me,” he put his hands on top of yours and give them a squeeze, “you’re biased.”

“I do love you - very much,” you agreed, “but I’d still think the same regardless, Peter Parker.”

He paused before nodding slightly, “I love you too.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter could feel you watching him, despite your best efforts to remain subtle. It should be noted, however, that your best efforts were pitiful; you might have been openly gawking at him. He stopped what he was doing and turned to you with a small little smirk on his features, “take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“That’s your area of expertise not mine, Parker,” you weren’t going to bother denying that he’d caught you. You walked over to the kitchen and hopped onto the counter, swinging your legs back and forth as you watched him finish putting away the dishes, “but you make a pretty picture.”

“And yet still not nearly as beautiful as you,” he put the last mug into the cabinet before turning on his heel and pressing a kiss to your cheek, “why were you watching me like a creepo, huh?”

“I wasn’t watching you! Not like a creepo,” your cheeks warmed up as you gnawed on the inside of your cheek, “I was just…admiring.”

“Uh huh,” he teased, settling his arms on the counter and caging you in, “ admiring. You’re cute. Now tell me what you’re really thinking about.”

“It’s stupid,” you offered him a sheepish smile but Peter just tutted at you before nudging his nose against yours, “promise not to laugh?”

“I promise,” he whispered sweetly, “you know you can tell me anything.”

“It’s a question,” you paused for a moment, “are you like super, super strong? ‘Cause aren’t spiders like proportionally strong?”

Peter leaned back and laughed softly, causing you to gently shove his shoulder. Not that it would matter - he was basically unmoveable. He grabbed your hand and laced his fingers through yours before you could say anything, “sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to laugh - I’m a horrible, terrible liar. It’s just…you’re precious.”

“Shut up,” you couldn’t deny that inside you were beaming from his praise, “I am not precious! Just curious.”

“I’m pretty strong,” he explained softly as you nodded, “maybe not the strongest being in the galaxy but its up there. I can show you sometime.”

“That’s why you can move things so easily,” it made sense now, why he never seemed to have an issue with moving the furniture or carrying in all the groceries at once, “wow. You’re amazing. The Amazing Spider-Man.”

“Not amazing,” he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you off the counter, easily and effortlessly holding you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and looped your arms around his neck, “just basically a mutant freak.”

“You’re my mutant freak,” you buried your face in his chest, but not before pressing a kiss to his neck, “that I love, very much.”

“The mutant freak loves you very much too,” you could feel the laughter rumble in his chest as you allowed yourself to melt into him, “curious girl.”

“Can’t blame me,” he could feel you grinning against his skin, “not everyday you find out boyfriend is Spider-Man.”

“True,” he agreed, “I’d be pretty shocked if I found out my boyfriend was Spider-Man.”

“Peter!” this time you were laughing too as he started to walk you both down the hall towards the bedroom, “where are we going?”

“Bedroom,” he rasped, “I can show you how strong I am.”

“Oh,” you felt your entire body warm up, “yes please.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late at night, but you weren't feeling too tired just yet. You were in bed, staring at the ceiling and deep in thought as Peter laid next to you reading. You liked listening to him make some small sounds as he read and the sounds of the pages turning.

“I'm not a mind reader but you're thinking much too loudly,” Peter stole a quick glance at you, causing you to scoff loudly as you rolled onto your side so your back was to him, “honey.”

“Mind your business, Parker,” you burrowed further into your pillow, “I was just staring at the ceiling.”

“Hmm,” he mused softly, “what's your silly question of the day?”

“Excuse- first of all, my questions aren't silly,” you sat up right and crossed your arms over your chest, “and secondly, you're Spider-Man! I have a million questions. Don't be a jerk.”

“I am not,” he insisted through a few giggles as you smacked him with a pillow. You knew that you'd never hurt him which just made the situation all that much more ridiculous, “I love your curiosity. I love all the little things that cross your mind.”

“Now you're just pitying me,” Peter rolled his eyes as he pulled in between his legs so the the two of you were facing one another. He put his large hands on your calves and gave them a gentle squeeze, “Pete.”

“I love you, you know?” He asked softly as you nodded. If there was anything you knew in the world it was that Peter Parker adored you to no end. But then, you loved him just ask much, “you never gotta worry about asking me anything. So come on baby, tell me.”

“Fine. Fine,” you groaned softly before mumbling your question to him, “can you like stick to walls and stuff?”

You'd said it so quickly and fast that Peter hadn't caught what you were saying, “pardon?”

“Ugh,” you huffed, “do you have the ability to crawl on the walls and ceiling like real spiders? Or is something your weird mutant DNA didn't get.”

Peter tried his best not to laugh but he could barely stop the corners of his mouth from quirking up, “yeah, babe, that is something I can do.”

“Whoa,” you watched as Peter stuck his hand to the wall and showed you how it stuck, “that's so cool. Kinda gross but cool.”

“It's definitely gotten me out of a few scrapes before,” he admitted, “I'll take you for a ceiling walk some time.”

Your face lit up with pure excitement before your brows furrowed in confusion, “will our kids have your spidey thingies? What did you call it the other day? Spidey senses?”

Peter had stopped processing anything you were saying as soon as he’d heard our kids. It had stocked something deep within him. He only came back to reality when he felt you tickling his side, “our kids? What do you mean our kids?”

“Oh,” your cheeks warmed up as you bit your lips and shrugged lightly, “I dunno, I just think about it sometimes. You know, one day we’ll have kids. We’ve always talked about that. Unless…you changed your mind?”

“No!” he said much too quickly as a small smile tugged up the corners of your mouth, “I haven’t changed my mind. I-I want kids. With you. Only you.”

“Good,” you relaxed slightly as Peter’s entire face turned bright red, “so what do you think? Will they be part mutant spiders?”

“I don’t know exactly how that works,” he whispered as he pulled you closer to him, “maybe it would be inherited or not. I’m not a geneticist.”

“No,” you shook your head as you took his hand in your face, “just a biophysicist and biochemist. Hardly anything to brag about.”

“I’m basically a professional clown,” he grinned as you traced your fingers along the contours over his face. He was so pretty and you loved getting to have him just like this, gentle and quiet and all yours. He took one of your hands in his and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “luckily I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you too, Peter Parker,” you pulled him into a tight hug; if he had been a normal person you might have crushed him a little too much. Luckily, he was able to withstand your embrace and tenderly hugged you right back, “my Spider-Man.”

“All yours,” he agreed easily, “all yours.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was spring now, and the nights were gentle and warm, finally not filled with rain as they seemed to have been the entire winter. You were leaning out the window and taking in the sights and sounds of the New York evening. 

You heard the door to the apartment open, followed by Peter’s familiar footsteps. Before you could turn around to greet him, you felt his arms wrap around your waist as he pulled you into his chest and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. You sighed softly as you pressed your body into him, “hello my love.”

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispered into your ear, “what are you doing hanging out the window?”

“Just admiring the city,” you turned around so you were facing him, “and now I’m admiring you. I’ve got another question for you, my spider.”

“Which is?”

“Will you take me swinging?” you asked softly, a nervous little expression on your face. Peter’s face grew into a large smile as he nodded eagerly. He’d imagined what it would be like with you loads of times before. He never thought he’d get to make it an actual reality, “but promise you won’t drop me?”

“I swear I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised, “and I promise you’ll have fun. Whenever you’re ready, just say the-”

“I’m ready,” you said excitedly as Peter laughed softly, “can we go now?”

“Yes,” he kissed your cheeks, “let me go and change. Then we’ll go swinging.”

“You’re the best, Parker,” you grinned at him, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he looked at you with soft heart eyes, “my spider girl.”

[spider-stark]

INFINITELY YOU

part three // spitfire

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, minors DNI

WORD COUNT - 4.5k

// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite

name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker // tobey!peter = pete

On the walk back from Peter Pan’s, it seemed as though Parker had managed to entirely escape the sputtering awkwardness that had ensnared him the night before. 

And, after countless city blocks of listening to him babble about absolutely everything and anything, you realized that there was one very striking similarity between him and Peter. 

Both boys had a fervent interest in all things nerd. 

“New Hope takes place nearly two decades after the rise of the Galactic Empire, meaning that Leia is only nineteen when she's kidnapped and forced aboard the Death Star! Which is like, absolutely insane, right? Seriously! Imagine being nineteen years old and stuck inside of something that has the potential to obliterate an entire planet!” 

Shoving open the lobby door to your complex, Parker hardly even waits for you to hum your agreement before continuing his retelling of the Star Wars film. 

“And at the exact same time, Luke is finally beginning his Jedi training! Which, honestly, nineteen is actually super old for that, but-” 

Moving towards the stairs, Parker close on your heels, you cut him off with a question. “Too old? Nineteen is hardly even an adult,” you argue. “What age do most Jedi start training?” 

“About four or five, so obviously Luke was way behind,” 

Not even a full three stairs up, you come to a grinding halt, leaving Parker to bump into your back. “Four?!” You cry out, wide-eyed as you spin around to face him. “That’s insane!” 

Parker only lifts his shoulders, clearly not understanding the reason for your horror. 

Furthering your point, you add, “There’s nothing ethical about taking a bunch of little kids and training them to be weird, intergalactic warriors!” 

“It’s the best way to train them!” He lifts his hand defensively, explaining, “The earlier they start training, the less likely it is that the kids will have formed an attachment to their families! That way they learn to act out of logic instead of emotion!” 

For a heartbeat, you’re rendered entirely speechless by the absurdity of his claim, left to stand with your mouth agape as you blink at him. 

“That sounds like emotional abuse,” you finally huff, shaking your head. “Actually, scratch that—it doesn’t sound like emotional abuse, it just is!” 

“It’s not abuse-” 

You hold a hand up, stopping him before he can say anything else. “Give me one good reason why a group of adults should withhold love and affection from children if they aren’t abusing them.” 

“Uh, how about the fact that love is basically what made Anakin turn to the dark side!” Parker scoffs, clearly unwilling to recognize how insane the notion he was pushing actually is. 

“Or maybe Anakin turned to the dark side because he was indoctrinated and traumatized by some stupid space cult!” 

The expression on his face is downright laughable. 

It was as if you had just reached out and slapped him across the face. His jaw went slack, his mouth hung open in blatant offense. As a sputtering noise falls from his lips, trying and failing to come up with a good rebuttal, you smirk. 

“Exactly,” you boast, taking his inability to speak as a sign of victory. 

Twirling on your heel, you continue up the stairs, nearly all the way to the top before you finally hear him come stomping up behind you. 

“The Jedi Order is not a cult!” He finally shouts after you. 

Already traipsing through the hallway, fiddling with your keys, you sing-song, “Whatever you say, bug-boy.” 

Reluctant to admit defeat, Parker continues grumbling under his breath as you unlock the door, spouting something off about your lack of respect for George Lucas. 

“Look,” you tell him, pushing the door open, “if liking Star Wars matters this much to you, then I’ll gladly watch them with you.” A wry smile plays on your lips as you turn to look at him, standing in the doorway, “Maybe watching them will be enough to change my opinion on turning kids into galactic slaves.” 

Eyes narrowing in a playful glare, he’s only able to hold the expression for less than a few seconds before a laugh causes him to break character. “I just can’t believe that Peter hasn’t made you watch them already,” he admits. “I had you watch them so much that you could probably recite the scripts from memory alone!” 

His amusement dies off as soon as he finishes the sentence. Despite having been the one to bring it up, the mention of his world seems to cast a sullen shadow over him, ruining his sweet, boyish smile. 

Curiosity instantly claws at you, begging you to ask him why his world seemed to have such a negative effect on him. Or, rather, why his version of you seemed to have such an effect. 

This had happened last night too, when you had asked him if the two of you were friends in his world—and it was because of this that you assume that you’re somehow the common denominator in his discomfort. 

Still, you don’t let yourself ask him about it. For as much as you’re starting to like Parker, you don’t know him nearly well enough to try prying into his life. 

Not yet, at least. 

“Well, you’re more than welcome to force me into sitting through them in this world, too.” You tell him sweetly, sweeping an arm out to gesture inside of your apartment, inviting him. “It’s not like I’ve got any plans for the rest of the day.” 

You couldn’t even remember the last time you did have plans. Life had been so quiet since that last night with Peter and Mj—the night when everything went so horribly wrong. 

Parker sucks in a breath through his teeth, a hand coming to rest against the back of his neck. “I should probably get back out on the streets,” he reluctantly says, sounding more like he was convincing himself of that than you. “But, I don’t know, maybe we can take a rain check on it, yeah?” 

Disappointment washes over you, sudden enough that you’re sure it shines through on your face. It takes a shocking amount of willpower to stop yourself from trying to persuade him to stay, wanting to remind him that two other Spider-Men were already running themselves ragged in pursuit of the villains—so why did he have to go, too? 

You had grown used to his constant talking, having found solace in the chatter that kept you from slipping too far into your own thoughts. Selfishly, you wanted him to stay so that you wouldn’t have to be alone; so that you wouldn’t have to risk thinking too long about Doctor Strange or the multiverse or constants or Peter. 

The thought of admitting any of that out loud, however, felt incredibly humiliating. 

“For sure,” you force a smile, trying to ignore the many thoughts swirling in your mind. Then, eyeing the slightly too-tight Ramones shirt that he’d stolen from you, you add, “But shouldn’t you at least come in and change?” 

His nose wrinkles slightly as he shakes his head. “Nah—I think this city has more than enough spider-people swinging around it right now. I figure we might actually benefit from one of us patrolling on the ground-level, y’know? Maybe I can ask around for any giant lizards or blown light bulbs.” 

It’s hard to tell if the last bit is meant to be a joke or not, but you laugh anyway if only to avoid knowing why you should be worried about lizards and light bulbs. 

“Sounds like a plan,” you second his idea. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later then?” 

A surprising sense of joy lights his eyes at the sound of your hesitance, unfitting of the simplicity of the moment, but charming nonetheless. He grins—a wide and endearing sort of grin—as he takes a step back, “I won’t be gone long,” he promises before reminding you, “lock the door behind you, alright? And if you need anything-” 

He pauses, patting the pockets of his jeans only to remember that he didn’t bring a phone with him to this universe—and that, even if he did, there likely wasn’t a wireless plan good enough to support multiversal travel. 

“If you need anything, call 911.” 

“Got it,” you laugh, watching as he stumbles backwards towards the stairwell, cheeks red with faint embarrassment. 

Turning to go inside, you can’t ignore the warmth that now blooms in your chest. 

You could definitely get used to having him around. 

A peculiar sensation prickles at your skin, curling along your spine like icy fingertips. 

Something was wrong. Very wrong. 

The usually comfortable atmosphere of your apartment had shifted. An eerie tension fills the space, a near-suffocating feeling that has the very walls holding their breath, humming a tune of warning as you inch further into the living room. 

Your stomach twists as the sharp tang of exhaust fumes fills your nostrils. By the couch, a faint breeze rustles the curtains of a window, wafting in the nauseating scent of the city street below—a window that hadn’t been open when you left earlier. 

A mere foot or so away, you notice that the picture frame Parker had been fiddling with before is now lying on its face, having been knocked off the end table and abandoned. Atop the table, you notice that the lamp is sitting askew, its base just inches from tumbling over the edge and joining the frame. 

Someone had come in through your window—and it didn’t appear as though stealth had been very important to them, given that they had clearly stumbled into the table upon their entrance. 

Adrenaline floods your senses, your spine stiffening as you take a series of slow, quiet steps. 

Moving towards the corner, you carefully reach out a hand to grab the metal bat propped against the wall. The bat had been an unlikely housewarming present from when you first moved in, given to you by Peter’s mentor and your own reluctant renegade, Tony Stark. For nearly two years now it had sat in this corner, unused and gathering dust—until now. 

You wrap your fingers tightly around the base, wincing slightly as the rubber grip pulls at the still-healing flesh on your palm, making you curse yourself for not properly bandaging the wound last night. 

But you’re used to pain—and so you’re easily able to bite back against it as you ease through the living room, checking for any sign of the intruder's presence. 

As you walk, gripping the bat like your life depends on it, you can’t help but hear Tony Stark’s voice echo in your mind. 

If you’re gonna live alone, then you should have some sort of protection—he had told you, gently placing the cool steel into your hands for the first time, a ribbon tied sloppily around it—not that you need it. 

Satisfied with your search of the living room, you start easing towards the hall. You’re good at sneaking around, having had a lot of practice at it—every movement you make is calculated, every footfall so purposefully gentle that it’s nearly silent. 

Quiet as you were, you could do nothing to ease the sound of your blood thrumming wildly in your own ears, your heart pounding against your chest. 

The incessant beating worries you—because you know that there are people in the world with the unnatural ability to hear such things. Peter, even with his enhanced hearing, had to be close to someone in order to hear something as soft as their heartbeat; but you had heard rumors that there were others who could hear a pulse from miles away, others like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

The thought makes your blood run cold, though you try to push the worries from your mind. From what you know, the Devil doesn’t have a habit of breaking into apartments, nor was Queen's his usual jurisdiction. 

No—what you were dealing with had to be no more than an average burglar! 

An average burglar who, somehow, scaled up the side of a building to break into your apartment… 

Alright—you think, approaching the end of the hall—perhaps it’s a not-so-average burglar, then! Still better than the Devil. 

Peeling one hand from the bat’s handle, you curl your fingers around the doorknob to the guest room, Parker’s room. You ease the door open slowly, trying to keep the old hinges from crying out as you peer into the space. 

The sweet scent of vanilla is the first thing that hits you, contrasted by the subtle bite of vetiver. 

Parker—the room smells of him, even though he had only been here for one night. 

On the bed, the quilt is rumpled and thrown about, pillows strewn about. The doors of the armoire are wide open, a few old shirts hanging over the edge of one of the shelves, no doubt from when he went digging through your clothes in search of something to wear. 

The room was messy, but empty. 

Your shoulders sag, half-a-breath loosing from your lungs. The relief is short-lived, however; as by the time you edge back into the hall to turn towards your own door, you’re overwhelmed with dread. 

If whoever broke in was still here, then this was the only place they could be—save for the bathroom, though you seriously doubt any burglar would have much interest in scouring through your toiletries… 

Easily, gracefully, you twist the knob, the metal yielding quietly to your careful touch. 

The curtains are tightly drawn, eradicating any trace of sunlight and leaving the room cloaked in shadows. But, even in the darkness, you’re able to see the rough outline of a figure sprawled out across your mattress. 

For a split second, you think of Parker’s advice to call 911, the weight of your phone suddenly heavy in your back pocket. 

You think of how you should follow that advice. 

You think about how fast you could run—if you would be able to reach the front door before they could catch up to you. 

But then you stop thinking, disregarding all logic and reason as you take a step into the room, as if drawn in by some invisible force. 

Remaining mindful of your surroundings, you slowly approach the edge of the bed. Squinting in the darkness, you try to study the body laid out atop your comforter. Watching the steady rise-and-fall of their chest, it suddenly hits you that, whoever they are, they’re asleep. 

Slinking around the corner and coming to stand at your bedside, you’re finally close enough that you can see them in spite of the absence of light. Crimson and blue spandex clings tightly to their arms as they cling one of your pillows to their chest, and you feel your entire body sag with relief as you loosen your grip on the bat. 

So this must be Peter 2. 

The fabric of his mask is bunched up and resting along the bridge of his nose, which is somewhat smushed against the pillow he’s holding, no doubt leaving him to breathe in the scent of laundry detergent and your perfume. 

Lower, you can make out the subtle contours of his jawline and the curve of soft, pink lips. Higher, you’re met with the impassive stare of then white lenses sewn into his mask. 

The lenses shield his eyes from your view, and a curious feeling begins to tug at the furthest corners of your mind. Take it off—it seems to whisper, compelling you to move in closer, your shins pressing against the side of the mattress—take it off. 

You grit your teeth and try to ignore the feeling, try to ignore the velvet-voice slithering through your mind; begging you to look at him, to touch him, to notice him, to-

Pain shoots along the side of your temple, likely in response to the sudden tightness in your jaw. It distracts you enough that you’re able to shake the strange feeling long enough to regain your focus—even if the remnants of it still linger. 

You shouldn’t be interested in him—you should be pissed at him. 

Not only had he broken into your house, which was already bad enough, but he had also climbed into your bed and made himself cozy! The absolute gall, the audacity he must have, has you allowing the tiniest sliver of rage to ignite inside of you. 

Both hands still gripping the bat, you lower it from where it rests against your shoulder to swiftly jab its head into his stomach. 

A cough sputters past his lips as the impact pushes the air from his lungs. 

You’re actually shocked that you landed the blow—in truth, you had expected his spider-sense to kick in and detect the incoming hit, waking him with just enough time to dodge the shot. But, apparently, his instincts had made the mistake of assuming that you were of no threat to him. 

“Morning sunshine,” you chime, your feigned cheerfulness set off by a sneer. 

He’s scrambling into an upright position, knees sinking into the mattress as he presses a hand against the sore spot you’d created on his stomach. “What the fu-” 

His voice is hoarse—from sleep or pain, you’re not sure—and he doesn’t finish the curse spewing from his mouth once his head shoots up towards you, as if finally registering the sound of your voice. 

“I don’t know what things are like in your world,” you muse, swinging your bat back to rest against your shoulder, “but in this one, breaking and entering is considered a crime.” 

He’s still catching his breath, and while those damn white lenses covering his eyes give so little emotion away, you assume that he’s going to apologize. It’s what Peter would do, and Parker, too. 

But not him. 

“Your friends said I could stay here,” he defends himself. Taking another deep breath and extinguishing the burning in his lungs, the lower-half of his face transforms into a defiant smirk. “It’s not breaking and entering if you were invited.” 

“And did they tell you to sleep in my bed, too?” You shoot back, brows rising in annoyance. “Word of advice: next time you’re invited to stay in a total stranger’s house, maybe try not to repay their kindness by crawling through their window.” 

He mocks you without missing a beat, “Word of advice: you live in a shitty neighborhood—if you don’t want people coming through your windows, you should try locking them.” 

“Ah, right! Cause the average person is definitely willing to scale the side of a building for the prospect of an unlocked window!” 

“You’re a pretty girl in a dangerous city,” he drones, lifting a shoulder as he meets your sarcasm with purposeful calm. “You’d be surprised what people would be willing to do for a chance at getting you alone.” 

The insinuation sends a shiver down your spine, but you mask your unease, flashing a smile that’s more predatory than sweet. “Aw,” you coo, “so you think I’m pretty?” 

He returns the expression, skillfully avoiding your derisive question. “I think you’re irresponsible—and a little cocky.” 

“Better to be cocky than a felon,” you remark. “Just spare my neighbors the acrobatics show next time, would you? Maybe try knocking on the door like a normal person! Preferably when you’re not dressed like… that.” 

It’s not that his suit wasn’t nice, because it was. But it lacks the advanced Stark-tech that makes Peter’s suit so uniquely sleek, meaning that it was likely safe to assume that no one in this world would mistake this boy for the real Spider-Man. 

Unless they were to catch him scaling up the side of your building… 

“I tried knocking.” he sounds exasperated, as if you are testing his patience. “You weren’t home.” 

You snort a laugh, wondering if he truly believes that is all the reason he needs to break into someone's home. 

“Then you should’ve waited until I got home,” 

“I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. I was too tired to wait.” 

“Then you should’ve slept in the alleyway with the rest of the strays,” you hiss at him, fingers tightening around the bat as your frustration builds. 

The sheer ferocity in your voice gives him pause, stunning him into silence. 

Then the corner of his mouth begins to twitch upwards, lazily grinning at you as if he actually enjoys the verbal onslaught. 

You can tell that he’s watching you through those white lenses, and his tongue darts over his bottom lip, you feel your breath catch in your throat. “Fine,” amusement dances in his tone as he raises his gloved hands, “fair enough.” 

For a moment, no sound comes from your parted lips, leaving you to stand there gaping at him until you remember how to speak. “Fair enough?” You echo, shaking your head slightly. “That’s all you’ve got? No apology?” 

He moves, forcing you to take a step back as he shoves his legs over the side of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s not as tall as Parker, but he still stands an inch or so higher than you, making it hard to not feel intimidated as he stares down at you, your own face staring back from the reflection of his lenses. 

“Better not push your luck, Spitfire,” 

He’s baiting you—he has to be! Using a stupid nickname to get under your skin, to try and prod further at your short temper. And it’s working—god, you hate how much it’s working!—because you find yourself contemplating putting his superhuman durability to the test by whacking him over the head with your bat. 

“By the way,” he says before you have a chance to act on your intrusive thoughts, pointing at your hands, “you’re bleeding.” 

As if his words switch a flip in your head, you’re suddenly aware of the acute throbbing in your palm. You loosen your grip on the bat, letting it clatter recklessly to the floor as you hold your hand out to examine it. 

Unsurprisingly, the rubber handle managed to tear open the barely-healed cut on your palm, courtesy of your too-tight grip on it. You hiss through your teeth, watching as blood oozed from the cut, dripping down towards your wrist. 

Slipping past you, the boy only half-manages to stifle his laugh. “You should probably take care of that.” 

He’s already slipping out into the hall by the time you regain enough awareness to follow after him, gritting your teeth against the pain. 

“And where do you think you’re going?” 

“To the other room,” he calls over his shoulder. Once he’s standing in front of Parker’s door, he spins back around to face you, his snarky expression still in-tact. “Where I’m hoping you won’t follow me.” 

Everything about him causes your blood to boil—his grating voice, his insolent attitude, his stupid soft lips. 

“Would it kill you to be nice to me?” You exclaim, your voice strained with pain as you try to wrap your hand in the lower half of your shirt. 

It takes no-time for blood to start seeping through the thin material, and you certainly don’t look intimidating like this—the lower half of your abdomen on display as you try to apply whatever pressure you can to the wound—but you don’t care. 

“I don’t have to let you and Parker stay in my house—I’m doing it because I’m nice, alright? And, so far, you’ve been nothing but a dick!” 

The thin fabric of his mask shifts, brows furrowing at the mention of Parker. Unlike Peter, however, he doesn’t bother commenting on the nickname. “Nice isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe you. Especially since you’re the one calling me names.” 

The levity in his tone makes you want to scream—what was his deal?! 

You press harder against your bleeding palm, your breathing turning shallow. You’re not sure if it’s frustration or pain or what, but you feel like your head is spinning. “Look, I don’t know you, alright? But this? Isn’t gonna work,” you bark at him, chin lifted defiantly as you stare into his mask, unrelenting. “If you plan on staying in my house, then you’ll get your shit together—got it?” 

His head tilts, curiously watching as you continue your frantic speech. 

“No crawling in through my windows or sleeping in my bed or smarting shit off! And take off that stupid mask!” You huff, shaking your head. “Or, I don’t know, pull it down the rest of the way! Just do something because you look stupid like that!” 

The words are spewing from your mouth like a torrential downpour, fueled by the rage swirling in your stomach and the throbbing in your hand and—

He laughs, a genuine laugh that isn’t born of derision, and you feel your racing thoughts slow to a halt. “You should work on your insults,” reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs his mask off. “Because that was pathetic.” 

It’s no longer just your thoughts that have slowed, but the entire world. Everything around you feels like it has come skidding to a stop—leaving you staring up at him like a dumbfounded idiot. 

He’s beautiful—a commonality among Peter’s variants, it seems. 

He’s smirking, an infuriatingly charming smirk that lets you know he has no intention of listening to your demands for him to silence his quick wit. But you’re not focusing on that—no, you’re focusing on the features that had been hidden from you this whole time; his dark hair, tousled from removing his mask, falls in a chaotic halo around his face, contrasting the vibrance of his eyes. 

His eyes. 

They leave you breathless, and you hate it. Colored with the deepest cerulean you’ve ever seen, his eyes feel like staring into the depths of a crystalline ocean. You can almost feel yourself getting swept up in their tides, feel them enveloping you in a feeling of familiarity, as if this wasn’t the first time you had been pulled into their ebbing waters. 

“Have we–” your mouth has gone dry, your voice cracking. “Have we met before?” 

It’s a ridiculous question, and you recognize that even as it’s spilling from your lips. You couldn’t have met him before—not when the two of you weren’t even from the same universe! 

He seems to be thinking the same thing, and you’re already preparing to take the full force of whatever smartass comment he’s about to fling at you. “I’ve met you,” he says simply, taking you by surprise. Then he inclines his head towards your still-bleeding hand, “You should patch yourself up before you stain the carpet.” 

You look down at your hand, at the hem of your shirt, soaked in blood. 

“But just so I know,” you look back up, his body half-turned towards the door, his fingers resting against the knob, “if Peter and Parker are already taken, then who does that make me?” 

You have to force yourself to take a breath. “What did I call you in your world?” He’s silent for a moment, staring at the floor and chewing on his lip. Then, pushing the door to Parker’s room—their room—open, he smiles.

“Pete.”

a/n - ayyy, pete's finally here! and, ofc, lots of other little important details sprinkled around as well.

also, i really wanna say thank you to everyone who has been reading and enjoying this story so far! it truly means the world to me to read all of the nice comments and to know that you guys are interested in this story! so, again, thank you 💖 as always, please comment/like/reblog and let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!

part four, titled "blooms of subterfuge", to be released april 29th

[webslingingslasher]

i'm a sucker for angst to fluff. what if parker's friends say some mean things ab your body but parker doesn't defend you. that night, you won't cuddle him, you won't even sleep in the same bed because you don't wanna disgust him... and peter has to make it up to you.

parker is a dunce!!! peter supremacy!

Peter had two sets of friend groups. 

The first one was the original one. Kids he grew up with, suffered through high school and flew into the freedom of college with him. The group you knew the most of, they were the closest to him and nearly the entire group became your friends too. Weekends spent smashing drinks and staying up too late before hitting up a diner for greasy burgers at four in the morning. 

Then the second group, which you did not know well, don’t know how Peter knows them and can’t fathom why Peter would entertain them. 

It’s split like this. 

With friend group A, he’s Peter.

With friend group B, he’s Parker. 

You don’t like Parker; not one bit. 

Parker can be stark, blunt, bold and cocky. 

It was the friend group, they made him believe he was one of them so sometimes he acted a little too much like them. It wasn’t ever too bad, just the stuff you know he normally wouldn’t feed into, he gorged. 

His friend, leader of the group, Nick, said it in passing. It’s not the first time you met, granted you try to spend as little time as possible with them but you also won’t give them the cold shoulder. The mutual understanding with friend group B is that you both are there for Peter’s sake, it just makes things easier. 

Nick threw his beer back, foam swirled to the top. His long arm extended to the seat next to him, his watch clicked against the chair top. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t bag someone with a better body, Parker.” A sharp wink is thrown at your boyfriend, and in response he snorted, “yeah, right.” 

It was sarcastic, you’ll give him that. But he didn’t give more, you waited for the ‘real funny, but don’t talk about my girlfriend like that.’ However, he just rubbed your shoulder and sent a small smile, almost like he was saying, ‘you know how it is.’ 

You didn’t miss the tiny curl of Nick’s lip when you shook Peter’s hand off your arm. 

If he couldn’t stand up to his friends over a shit comment then why would you let him put his hands on your body, knowing everyone thinks he could do better?

—------------------------------

Peter frowned when you pulled away from his grasp, he was going for a hug but you floated away. You were quiet on the ride back, not starting conversation but not letting it fail either. 

If Peter could describe your emotion right now it would be ‘fine.’ 

“C’mon, gimme a hug.” 

You cross your arms, “you sure you want your hands on me?” 

Peter reaches out and tries to pull one hand back with the other but his right hand breaks free and grabs you, “I can’t control them! They need you too much.” 

Sometimes it’s really, really hard to be upset with him. 

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you pull away, forcing yourself to stand up for yourself, if the situation was reversed you’d shut it down at the dinner table. Not smile sympathetically and give him an ‘oh well!’ 

“Want company?” 

Disappointment covers your features, “not really.” 

He wouldn’t stand up to defend the body he loves but he wants to be first in line to use it. 

“Oh. Okay, if you want I’ll make us some ice cream cones and set up a movie?” 

You shrug, “sure.” 

Peter knows what’s wrong but he views it as a boundary issue between his friends and him, not you. He knows what he needs to do but doesn’t want to involve you further. 

That message doubles down when you told him you would sleep on his couch tonight, he woke you up after the movie to take you to bed when you shrugged him off, “I’ll sleep here tonight,” that never happens, ever. 

“No, c’mon, I’ll carry you.” 

His hands slipped under your thigh when you rolled over, “if it wasn’t so late I’d be at home. Consider yourself lucky that I’m still here.” 

So, Peter presses a kiss to your temple with an “alright, honey. Goodnight, we can talk in the morning, okay?” 

When he walks away you mumble under your breath, “hope you dream about girls with better bodies.” He hears you, it takes everything in him to not bring you with him. 

—----------------------------------

Noise woke you up. 

The room was bright, sleeping in the living room left you exposed to nearly every window in the apartment. Peter’s room was dark and cool, if you were in there it could be well into mid morning before you rose. 

There was a blanket on you that wasn’t there last night, it’s one from Peter’s room, he keeps an extra by his bed for you. The sun peering in warmed up the room and you started to feel just a little too warm. 

You almost forgot why you were awake until you heard a cabinet shut loudly and a soft curse murmured from the kitchen. Peter was up early making breakfast, you know he feels largely guilty. It almost makes everything okay. 

It took heat swarming your face for you to pull the blanket away, the cool breeze from his ceiling fan felt really good. You yawn, then cough from a dry throat. 

“Baby?” 

You sniff, nothing more than a harsh breath, “morning.” Your voice croaks from the couch, you hear shuffling, steps get louder until you looked up at his face peering over you. 

“I slept like shit, how about you?” 

You stretch your arms over your head, “no complaints.” 

Peter recognizes you’re still mad. 

“Waffles or pancakes?” 

You grin, “french toast.” 

Peter leans over the back of the couch, his lips puckered. “Deal,” you push his chin away. “No kisses, you’re on time out.” 

He wanted to wait until after breakfast but he really can’t last that long without a kiss. 

“Okay, come here.” 

You got up and followed him, he grabbed his phone sitting on the counter and gestured to taking a seat at the breakfast bar. Peter unlocked his phone and tapped around, he handed it towards you, you looked at him confused before he wiggled it. “Take it, read it.” 

Taking his phone you looked down, it was blurry and you had to blink a few times. Peter busy with moving around the kitchen. 

A text thread between him and Nick. 

“hey man, I know you didn’t mean anything by it but you hurt some feelings by that comment tonight. From here on out no jokes on or about her, cool?” 

“Ah shit man, my bad. I didn’t mean to get you yelled at, no jokes about the lady in front of her from now on.” 

“I mean don’t joke about her, ever. It’s not cool to me, and it disrespects my girlfriend.” 

“Say less, I’ll tell the guys, no more jokes about parker’s girl.” 

“Appreciate it, man.” 

A small pout takes over your face, he texted it last night after you got home. If you can track it back it would’ve been around the time you were in the shower, unprompted he stuck up for you. 

Peter stood up for you, he had your back. 

You assumed he didn’t, but he just didn’t make a scene. He kept cool and calm until he was back at home, in regards to not embarrassing you or his friends and maybe damaging either relationship. 

You click your tongue, your boyfriend meets your eyes, he’s awaiting a response. 

“Well, now it’s hard to be mad.” 

“I will always defend your honor, sweetheart. Just because I don’t do it at that moment doesn’t mean I wont, okay? I love you and you are absolutely the hottest woman I could ever bag, alright?” 

You respond with countless kisses and cuddles, Peter needs to nearly peel you off his body so he can use the stove safely, but not one complaint utters from his lips. 

[m00ngirl777]

Feeling Loved by Peter Parker

Peter Parker x Reader

kiss number...9

“Sorry I kept you waiting, gorgeous,” With the gentlest of movements he grabbed your chin and pulled you in to kiss your lips, so softly but with an underlying hunger. The boy you had fallen in love with a little over five years ago, when you first met in Germany, was someone you will always hold so dear in your heart, in the purest of ways, but the young man he grew into, was the man you needed to shatter you and put you back together with his touch, because he was the only one that could. 

summary: Smutty, body worshiping, eating out, by the fireplace, storm outside, older peter and reader, baby girl and boy need each other so bad, he's yours, your his and that's on god bby.

A/N: forgive me father for I have SINNNNEEEEDDDD, JESUS CHRIST, im so sorry for tormenting you with this, hope you love it, im actually kinda proud, I did make Peter a little different, I imagine them being like 20, and I feel like, you know when spiderman comes out, Peter gets more confident and bold, and ykkkk, I feel like as he grows into his skin and body, and basically goes through a second puberty after spiderman, walking into his 20s, he just becomes this like very sweet but confident guy, who's not afraid to call his girl HIS, and be possessive and demanding, and dirty, I love him, can you tell??? anyways hope you love it, thxx for reading, love u, byeeee. xoxo. -N.

p.s. my requests are open my loves<333

tw: smutttttt, sex, raw, no protection, oral, riding, alcohol, like one mention.

wc: 4066

_ _ _

You craved it.

In the very quiet of your floor, where you found yourself in the soft carpet of you living room, wearing nothing but the red lacy set he liked and a soft robe, lying on top of a velvety blanket, captivated by the fire place. There was no light expect for that of the fire and other rose and vanilla scented candles placed through out the living area, the strong rain constant and the soft thunder rumble, setting an undeniably rousing mood. Everything so perfectly set for him to fuck you out, that’s why you didn’t even bother to contain the fact that you were aching for him to finally show. 

Earlier you had shared a beautiful meal and exquisite dessert, still he had a duty, and made a promise to make it back in no time to give you all of his attention, a couple hours passed and surely he was back, currently found himself in the shower, washing away the city, while you shed the soft robe you used to shield you from the cold, finding yourself in this position, waiting, craving, aching, longing, yearning. Call it what you want, you needed him to fuck you well into tomorrow.

At once he came out of the room you most often than not shared, in a slutty pair of grey Calvin’s you remember getting him, that allowed you to see how excited he could get before even getting out of them, and a pair of socks, he knew that was his version of the little red matching set he just now discovered you in. You sat up from the cushion you had been lying on watching the fire, as he walked. You grabbed the lonely glass of wine that was at your side, and sipped it, never losing sight of him, once he towered over you he got down and sat right in front of you, he grabbed the long forgotten glass of red, sipped it and stretched to placed it at a safe distance, the ripples of his muscles on display as he moved, full of grace. 

“Sorry I kept you waiting, gorgeous,” With the gentlest of movements he grabbed your chin and pulled you in to kiss your lips, so softly but with an underlying hunger. The boy you had fallen in love with a little over five years ago, when you first met in Germany, was someone you will always hold so dear in your heart, in the purest of ways, but the young man he grew into, the man that learned how to kiss your mouth and cunt, to fuck both of them so perfectly, to hold you down and wide open, to pose you to take his cock as he pleased, who became a little more selfish with his needs but never dared to neglect yours, the man in front of you, with his soft kiss giving you a taste of that pure boy he used to be, but letting you know with his wandering hand so familiarly finding place in your tit, that he has grown into so much more, that was the man you needed to shatter you and put you back together with his touch, because he was the only one that could. 

“So rude of me,” he kissed along the edge of your jaw, “to leave you sitting here, in this perfect little outfit,” the hand moved into the small of your waist, squeezing just tight enough, it was becoming hard to breath, “how much do you want me, baby?” he whispered in your ear, grazing his lips along its curves.

“So much, baby,” you pressed your forehead against his temple, it came out a little whinier than you had wished, but he did leave you here waiting, a couple of hours, for your thoughts to wonder all by themselves. He kissed the spot on your neck that sent shivers down your spine and straight into your cunt, you could already feel it, slowly dripping, just thinking about all he might do to you, with you, for you. He breathed in, his grip tighten slightly. Something else that had grown with time was his control, specially over his extraordinary abilities, those senses of him, had developed into those of a hound on steroids, making you the most vulnerable and helpless of preys, because he knew exactly what to do, to get you exactly where he wanted to. 

“Prove it,” Asshole, anyway you did, waisting no time, you pounced on him, capturing his lips, balancing yourself holding on to his upper back, his hands never stopping their wanders, he now sat with his legs stretched and you straddling them, the lacy material of your garments, and the cotton of his, a barrier between you, still he could feel the heat emanating from you. Every time you pressed yourself further to him, he could feel your pulsing cunt, involuntarily clenching around nothing, getting wetter by the second, just by a simple kiss and caress. He pushed you away, ever so softly and gave your body a good look, the goosebumps in your skin, the plumpness of your breasts threatening to spill out of the lacy bra, the matching thong rising up your wet pussy, giving him the perfect outline of your lips, as much as he loved the view he loved it even more when it was only you, bare, for him, you saw that pleading look in his eye, and slowly you unclasped the bra, teasingly letting it fall with your movements, when it was halfway down your arms Peter got impatient and decided to drag it off and throw it somewhere instead, your tits sitting so perfectly on your chest, he could not deny himself and neither could you, to grab them by the handful and bring them into his mouth, he took turns sucking, pinching, flicking and biting at the perky nipples, all you could do was lean into it, you arched your back and steadied yourself, placing your hands behind you, resting them on his meaty thighs, you chewed on your lower lip and closed your eyes, letting him continue the abuse to your breasts as he pleased, slightly trembling and letting out a throaty noise here and there. Slowly but surely he trailed back his kisses to your neck, leaving his hands to massage out whatever sore he had caused your breasts.

“I want you to suck my dick…please,” The please was simply for your amusement, the way he said it, the tone he used, left no place for denying. You just nodded as his request, a light patheticness to how dumb you’ve turned with simply foreplay.

He completely handled you, like you would a doll, and pushed and lifted you to kneel in front of him, he mirrored it, kneeling in front of you, and kissed you, stronger, hungrier than he had done last. He pulled away and effortlessly stood up, his bulge and growing wet spot on full display, damn those Calvin’s. You wasted no time, you wrapped your hands on the outer meat of his thighs and pushed him a little closer to you, you kissed around the bulge, blindly and still expertly trailing from the confined base, to the tip, eliciting the lowest, throaty sounds, and ragging his breath. After a moment, seeing how his dick got impossibly hard, the wet spot darkened and his member pulsed involuntarily, finally you decided to free him and hook supple fingers to his waist band, quicker than not, Peter grabbed your hands and bent over slightly to bring them to his lips, kissing your knuckles, and dropping them back down.

“You know better than that, gorgeous,” The gruff on his voice went straight to your cunt, once again you placed your hands on his thighs, and pulling him a little closer, you bit down on the waistband, craning your neck, you looked up into his eyes, and pulled down. Peter made a sound when his cock was finally on full display, and you're almost sure so did you. Never taking your eyes off his, you licked a strong line from one of his balls to just before getting to his tip, and repeated the same with the other, still just grabbing his thighs to seize him, you kittened licked around the head, never touching his tip, making his dick bounce with every flick of your tongue, he whined at the lack of stimulation, with his senses at a thousand percent too little or too much were actual torture for him, he usually lets you do your thing, doesn’t interfere, but tonight he was just extra in need, not unlike yourself.

“Please, baby, don’t tease me, please,” he placed a soft hand to the side of your hair, tangling in all the way to the back, you didn’t know if the manner meant to be begging or threatening, but softly he massaged the spot. You also thought it was enough, there was something very confronting about having him so desperate and so heavy on your mouth, you slowly brought him in and deep, still teasing, now using his thighs as an anchor you moved your head, bringing him in bit by bit, your goal for his head to lightly touch the back of your throat, but it seemed he couldn’t restrain himself and pushed all the way back, you gagged strongly in surprise and both of you pulled away. 

“S-sorry baby, please, I’m so sorry,” You let out a soft chuckle at how his body betrayed his gentleman, at last you thought he deserved it, you placed you hand at the base of his dick and brought the tip inside your mouth, violently sucking, the moans he was letting out were loud and proud, now both hands on your head, but simply resting there, giving you an idea, of just how deserving your boy was. After a good minute of truly giving him head, you pulled away, letting him catch his breath, your own hands left his thighs and brought them up to the back of your head, where both of his hands, that could break your skull with no effort, maintained the gentlest touch, and rested them on top of his. Once he had partially caught his breath, again you brought him in your mouth, your hands pushing his, to push your head, once settled deep, you found his wrists and wrapped your fingers around them, now pulling them, the way his fingers were tangled in your hair made them pull your head back, after a moment of these commotions, he seemed to understand, you dragged your hands back to now the front of his thighs and let him fuck your face, because he deserved it. He tried to be so gentle, but giving him all this pleasure, all this freedom, he pushed your head back and forth a little carelessly, letting out the most pornographic sounds with no shame, he was feeling so much so intense, he constantly had to restrain, his strength, his stamina, his intelligence, his desires, so when you so freely let him fuck your face, he spiraled into it. Soon enough he was close so, so close, you knew he was about to come, because he completely stilled your head, rubbing your temples, now just moved his hips instead, you knew he would leave you so very sore, at once he settled on the back of your throat, letting out deep moans form his chest, pulling your hair back using it to push you further into him, letting you to grasp at his thighs and breath through your nose, eyes tightly closed, threatening to spill more tears.

“Oh my God, baby,” he slowly pulled himself out of you, and kneeled back down, pulling you to him, wrapping himself around you. After a moment he kissed the side of your face, “fuck…thank you, baby…fuck, sorry,” he said, into your cheek.

“How are you? Was that too much? How do you feel?” he cupped your face and looked into your eyes, wanting to make sure how you were after the abuse he put your mouth through. 

“Soaking wet,” He almost came again, instead he pulled you in to kiss your lips, so much different from the first kiss you had shared a little bit ago. He pushed you back, laying your head on a soft cushion on the floor, he felt around every part of your body, from your thighs, to your hips, waist, ribs, breasts, shoulders, arms, and hands, never pulling away. His hands traveled back down pulled off your soaked lace, gave it a good smell and threw it aside, he intertwined your hands and pulled them up over you head and continued kissing you, slowly trailing down to your neck. Weakly, you wrapped your legs around his torso and pulled him closer to you, his hands freed from yours and slowly dragged his fingertips up and down your arms, now going back to taking turns between your breasts, again all you could do is let him. After a little bit, he dragged himself further down, he placed his hands on each your breasts and kneaded them going back to kissing your lips, very briefly, he pulled away and leaned back he was face to face with your chest, his hands still at your tits, he leaned down, as you took in a deep breath he, so, so lightly dragged his lips from the top to the bottom of your sternum, such a strange thing, but it made your whole body react, making you arch inwards and shiver slightly, he did it once more and planted a soft kiss right in the middle, before, with the same technique, dragging his lips all the way to your Venus bridge, this shiver now so much stronger, the arch deeper but now the other way, with a gentle hand he pushed you down before wrapping both around your thighs, spreading you as open as you could go. 

He watched with hunter eyes, how your pussy sobbed for him, he could see the soft dripping every time it pulsed, beggingly, so naturally he started there. With the tip of his tongue he collected your mess from your lowest hole, flattening through your perineum, before so lightly dipping the tip in his favorite hole of yours, flattening again on the way to your clit, letting it have just a taste of his tongue, he repeated that two more times, still just using the tip of his tongue he circled it around your clit, not touching the bud, just the edges around it, making you tremble every time he got closer. At this point you didn’t bother trying to form words anymore, if you could, you would’ve already screamed at him to properly lick your pussy, so you just made all types of sounds, hoping he’d understand. After feeling like he had put you through enough torture he decided to slightly reward you, he quite literally started to make out with your cunt, properly frenching it. He dipped his tongue, molded his lips to yours, from your entrance to your throbbing pearl, loving the stimulation it got from this particular way, but still being to short lived to get you anywhere. You could not take it anymore, it had been at least five minutes of this torture. 

“P-ple…please! Please!” you cried out, “suck my fucking clit Peter!” be careful what you wish for, with not a single falter he wrapped his lips around the pretty button and sucked hard, making you groan out your moans straight from your core, your hand pulling his hair, your heel digging into his back, your other hand pushing you up to fold into yourself as you felt the band in your lower tummy about to snap, so fucking close, he sucked and sucked like he did your tits, both his hands on your ass, lifting you slightly, he softly grazed his teeth against it with every suck, and you closed your eyes, frowning and your mouth hanged open, so fucking good, so intense, and just as you were about to come, so gone. 

“Uurghh! Ah!” you gasped, completely baffled at what had just happened, “Peter what the fuck, I was about to come, shit!” you almost sobbed, Peter put both his hands on the inside of your thighs, pushing them apart, not letting them rub yourself out if it, all you could do was convulse and hiss at the sudden loss, and whine a lot, defeated you fell back into the soft cushion, “fuuuckk,”

“You never said make me come,” He thought he was so fucking clever, you didn’t even respond, you just closed your eyes and folded your arms over your face, catching your breath. You felt as his hands left your thighs and circled around your hips, rubbing the bone there, kissing your inner thighs, you jolted up your arms holding yourself up at your sides as he placed his tongue flat to your clit and shook his head, you gasped and whined at the sudden touch, he had left you so sensitive from your denied orgasm, you knew it would come any second, you moved your hips, grinding against his tongue, crying out pathetically, and finally you burst, you kept moving and so did Peter as you reached your peak, making the most absurd noises, finally you let yourself fall back trying to regulate your body, but Peter continued his laps, licking and licking your clit like it was chocolate covered gold, and he was a starving poor man, so weak from your denied and achieved orgasms, what could you do but cry, until he got his second batch of milky sweet nectar from your pussy, this time you jolted away from him, if you hadn’t he would’ve most definitely continued. After pushing him away, exhausted you rolled face down and pulled the blanket you were laying on to cover you. Peter spooned your trembling body and helped you get the soft blanket over your bodies, holding you in his strong arms, he stroked your hair back and enjoyed the soft moment, complete oppose from his rock hard dick pressing against your ass, you knew what he wanted, you just really needed a moment.

“You’re so hard,” You whispered. 

“Don’t worry about that,” He coaxed you to stay in your post orgasmic bliss, not wanting to make you jump back into action so quickly. You turned around anyway and cuddled into his front, swinging a leg over his hip pressing yourself to him, he let out a breathy sound at the action and let his face find shelter in the crook of your neck. So, very softly, you started to move your hips back and forth, your lips and his shaft rubbing against each other, he tightly wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you flush to him, his face completely buried in your neck, your hand stroking the back of his head, now your turn to coax him into a less calm kind of bliss, but just as delicious. He would make the prettiest sounds here and there, so soft, when rubbing harder or on a spot you hadn’t, he couldn’t help himself and just softly moaned. 

“I ne- uh… I-I, argh…baby, please,” His voice was slightly muffled by the skin of your throat, but you understood, you further leaned into him, pushing him back, until you were on top of him, he threw his head back and placed his hands on your hips, and you placed yours on his chest. You lifted yourself up, and searched for his lips, placing a soft but deep kiss in them, once you were satisfied, you reached one of your hands back, to align him to your entrance, and sunk yourself back into him, in unison letting out a groan of pleasure, eyes screwed shut. His beautiful cock deep inside you, pale, matching the color of his skin, how it flushed the same color of his cheeks when the moment called for, an average length, but an exquisite girth, perfectly complimented by the occasional vain, like the ones in is arms, that would run from the base to the middle, and from the middle to his mauve pink, leaking head. 

After a moment of getting used to the new stretch and when Peter loosened the strong grip he had on your hips, now just rubbing the spot, slowly you started to move, back and forth, and rode your man, leaning slightly forward, putting all of your weight on him. 

“Do you like that baby?” Your voice was so breathy.

“Yes, yeah…so good,” He struggled to get out. Both of you so lost in the act, your movements had gotten faster, but still very punctuated, not letting the pleasure shorten or falter your thought out, deep back and forth, Peter just seemed happy to be there, under you, powerless by choice.

You were getting impatient, you knew neither of you would last long, sensitive and desperate for the other, great combination for an intense but rather quick fuck. As you tried to chase your own pleasure your movements became sloppy, shorter but faster. Peter seemed to love the way you were using his dick to get you off. As your body leaned back, the tip of Peter dick hit you at a complete different angle, you let your weight fall back and moved your hands to the meat above his knees, quickening your pace, letting your weight fall forward while leaning back, slamming down on his dick, making him jolt up.

 “Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby fuuucckkk,” Peter slightly bended his knees and placed his hands on your ass, helping you deepen your movements.

“ah! Ah!” you anchored yourself on his shoulders and let him help you chase release, this new position allowed you to deliciously rub your pulsing pearl on his pelvis, both of you so close. All you could do was look in the other’s eyes, any second now, ready to burst, both of your mouths open in a silent cry, your foreheads pushed together.

“Oh! Ah! Argh!” You came crashing first, and gripped him like a vice, making him follow, yanking him strongly into it.

“Fuck! Fuck!” He pulled you into him and rolled your bodies so that now he was on top of you, your hands still on his shoulders, pushing your breasts together, he crashed into them and repeatedly slammed in and out of you, his cries muffled by the plumpness in your chest. That  until he settled deep inside you, holding you tight to him, feeling his cock pulse between your walls, your mind completely blank of anything else, but that feeling, not a register of what could be happening around you. Just him, just Peter, on top of you repeating “I love you” catching his breath on top of you. 

You were so out of it, when Peter suggested a quick shower before bed, you think you nodded and mumbled something, you even barely felt the warm water hitting your sensitive body, or how Peter placed a toothbrush with a dollop of toothpaste on your hand, not even when he lathered you up with the soft pink loofa and your favorite body wash, you only gave a small whine when he rubbed a little too hard on your pussy, again when he placed a kiss on your neck and used the smaller shower head to wash the soap away, when the water hit your clit you shivered and backed away, he let it rest for now. Then, after having some amusement in the shower you think that maybe he dried you and wrapped you in a warm towel, walked you to the beautiful walk in and put you in panties and a loose tank, how he so gently moisturized your face with your favorite five hundred dollar cream, or when he kissed you wearing a thick layer of your favorite lip mask, almost feeling like a doll he could move, and dress, and do whatever he wanted to with, including guiding you to bed, getting in the covers with you, cuddling you from behind, so close and warm. What you did feel was loved, how much he loved you, and knew you, and took care of you, and maybe that's all you cared for, feeling loved by Peter Parker. 

[ddejavvu]

'you're a very good kisser.' - send me a request for a baby blurb! give me a character, and a plotline, and i'll write you a little fanfiction :)

omg what about tasm!peter taking you to the library for a ‘study date’ but you just end up kissing in the history section oops 🤭

join my 20K celebration!

'you're a very good kisser.' - send me a request for a baby blurb! give me a character, and a plotline, and i'll write you a little fanfiction :)

--

Everything's going fine, more than that, actually, until a textbook digs into your spine. Peter's too far gone to realize that your squirming is out of discomfort rather than pleasure, and you have to push against his chest to get him to break away from the kiss he's pressing you against the shelves with.

He blinks dazedly, his lips slick with spit as he pants slightly.

"What- what's wrong?"

"There's-" You reach behind you, squinting at the cover of the book you'd been bruised by, "Napoleon decided to join us."

"Oh," He laughs softly, keeping his voice down in case anyone comes to bust you for using the library inappropriately, "I think that's why we're not supposed to make out in the library."

Despite his previous statement, he leans in for another kiss.

"Peter," You mumble, unable to resist the temptation to reciprocate. He kisses you firm and steady, but you peck his lips once, twice, "Peter, I think we should move."

"Mmm okay." He hums, nose still prodding at your cheek, lips on your own, "Romance section?"

"Bedroom," You worm out of his grip, taking his hand and dragging him towards the exit. He follows eagerly, nodding with a hazy grin.

"That- that works, too." He decides, "Much less dusty."

[inkdrinkerworld]

Tasm peter with shy!reader and *sharing a warm kiss under the first snow of the season*

Congrats 👏

You’re bundled up, a day of learning to ice skate with Peter as your teacher etched into every corner of your mind as he walks you home.

The rink was cold, but New York was colder, your thermal tights were doing nothing now but adding to your aesthetic.

Still, you weren’t expecting it.

Peter’s watching you and you’re looking up at the sky, not quite believing that it’s actually happening.

You’d been talking about it for weeks, telling Peter about the days you thought was well below freezing enough for the snow, but the timing wasn’t right.

Not until now.

When you see the snowflake flicker down, hitting the apple of your cheek you giggle. Peter thinks you sound like wind chimes, he’s more than a little in love.

“It’s snowing!” The words bubble out of you, surprised and ecstatic and maybe a little breathless when you catch Peter’s eyes on you.

His brown eyes are pools of warm adoration and it makes the buzz of everyone seeing the snow dull.

“You’re adorable,” Peter whispers, his mittened hands cupping your cold cheeks. “Utterly fucking adorable.”

His lips press into yours softly, a quick peck of anything really, but it feels longer. It feels infused with something that far surpasses the beginning flushes of a relationship and you find yourself liking it. So does Peter.

The snow halos the two of you, melting on your eyelashes as you pull away.

“C’mon, before you freeze, bug.” You touch your lips as he reaches a hand for you.

“I can’t believe it’s snowing.” I can’t believe you’ve kissed me.

Peter smiles as your fingers link, your skin buzzing under his palm, “It’s the best day for it.” And he really, really means it.

[moonstruckme]

Please oh please may I request tasm!peter using his super strength to impress r? I don’t know if you’ve seen the TikToks from Romeo and Juliet but he is dangling and does a pull up to kiss her and like that vibe of just being a bit of a show off to fluster her

You may! Thank you <3

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 876 words

“I read something today,” you say, steam trailing behind you as you carry your microwave dinner into the bedroom. 

“Yeah?” Peter doesn’t pause in pulling on his suit. He nearly falls over when his leg gets stuck in the spandex. You’d think after so much practice, he’d be better at it. “That’s great, baby. Big step for you.” 

“Shut up.” You consider chucking a tamale at him, but no, not worth it. “I read a statistic about crime in New York.” 

Now you have Peter’s interest. He cocks his head, the suit hanging from his waist. Not getting distracted by his naked torso never becomes less of a trial for you. 

“Something you think I should know?” 

“Mhm. Did you know most crime here happens between noon and seven pm?” 

“Oh.” He rolls his eyes, putting his arms in their sleeves. “I know where this is going.” 

“It just seems,” you say thoughtfully, “like maybe you could stay here with me tonight. Since, you know, most of the crime is already over.” 

“I have class until six-thirty, sweetheart. What do you want me to do?” 

“Stay home.” You take a bite of your tamale, but it’s hotter than you expected. You chew with unladylike open-mouthed bites, trying to breathe out the steam. “Obviously.” 

Peter grins at your misfortune. You glare, and he makes a face so dopily in love you almost can’t stand it. 

“I have to go,” he says. “Whatever the statistics say, there are still crimes happening, and if I’ve got their schedule figured out those guys will be coming back to try and rob the gyro place again.” 

You swallow your food, frowning. “Damian’s place?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh, fuck those guys. Go get ‘em.” 

“I knew you’d get it.” Peter pulls on his mask, backing up towards the window. It’s been opened so frequently it doesn’t even squeak. You shiver at the cold wind it lets in. “Back later.” 

“Be safe,” you say automatically, pulling out your laptop and tapping random keys until it turns on. “Don’t go after guys with guns.” 

“I won’t.” 

You think Peter’s lying, but it’s the sort of white lie you’re okay with being told. You try not to think too hard when he goes out on his patrols; the worry would drive you insane if you did. You can never really fall asleep until you feel that wind come in through the window again, though, his body slipping into bed beside yours. 

You’re just navigating to YouTube when there’s a schwick, and your laptop shuts. You stare at the splatter of webbing on the back side of your screen in silent indignance for a moment before tracing it back to the source. 

“Peter.” Your boyfriend is dangling from the window of your eight-floor apartment by his fingertips. By only one set of fingertips. You know all about his abilities, and still the sight makes your heart shoot up into your throat. “What are you doing?” 

“Aren’t we forgetting something?” 

“What?” 

He attaches his webbing to the windowsill, using that hand to pull off his mask. “Uh, a goodbye kiss?” 

You roll your eyes, but it’s hard not to look smitten when the thing your boyfriend is sternest about is romance. You get up and follow the line of his web to the window. 

“You’re going to clean this stuff off my laptop when you get back,” you say, tone softening with fondness as he looks up at you. 

“It’ll dissolve,” he replies. “C’mere.” 

You bend, and Peter meets you halfway, muscled arms shifting underneath the tight material of his suit as he pulls himself upward. His lips are warm. The ends of his hair shift in the wind, tickling your forehead. You have to stop yourself from leaning all the way out the window to follow him when he pulls away. 

“Mm.” He licks his lips. “Save me some of those tamales, please.” 

“Do not tell me that I taste like bean and masa,” you plead. 

Peter grins. “No, I’m just teasing. You taste like you. Which is to say…” He pulls upward again, finding you just where he left you. “...very good.” 

Your lips curve against his, staying even after the kiss. “Flirt.” 

“Maybe.” He lets himself drop down below you, knuckles to his chin. It’s odd seeing him like this, so at ease with the city whizzing about nearly a hundred feet below him. 

You bite your lip, and his eyes drop to the motion. 

“Okay,” he says. “One more.” 

You grin. “Now you’re just showing off.” 

Peter makes a noncommittal humming sound, but you know he’s well aware of the impressive flex of his biceps and forearms as he lifts himself upward for one last kiss. You make it a good one, soft and lingering. 

“Is it working?” 

“Maybe,” you repeat his answer to your flirting accusation. But when you look at him again, your voice drops into a more genuine register. “Hey. Be safe tonight, seriously.”  

Peter’s eyes go soft. “I will. I’ll see you later, pretty girl.” He winks before pulling the mask on. “Keep the bed warm for me.” 

“If you’re not back by midnight, I’m putting an ice cube on your pillow.” 

His laughter echoes in the room after he’s gone. 

[literaryavenger]

Can I be him?

Summary: When Bucky finds something of yours, he hopes against hope that you feel the same way about him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language cause it's me. Fluff. A lot of angst. Idiots in love. Self-deprecating thoughts, both reader and Bucky. No use of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 4.8K

A/N: It’s 3am where I live, so… Happy 107th Birthday to my favorite Supersoldier! Today I’m posting 2 Bucky fics because my baby deserves it, this one and another one sometime around the afternoon. Hope someone likes it! Thank you to my angels @ordelixx and @mrsbuckybarnes1917 that gave me so many ideas that helped me finish this. I love you🖤

Masterlist

Being an Avenger is not easy.

The long missions, the intense training, the weight of the world on your shoulders…

Everybody on the team has a different way to unwind after a mission: Steve draws, Clint and Natasha compete doing target practice, Thor sleeps, Sam plays video games, Bucky takes motorcycle rides, Tony and Bruce work on side projects in their lab, Loki reads, Peter does his homework and Wanda cooks with Vision.

For you, it’s going to the rose garden behind the Compound.

It’s a bit of a sanctuary for you, Tony allowed you to put tall hedges of roses with a gazebo-like structure in the middle of them facing the lake, only it’s entirely made of vines.

You made it yourself, that’s your power: you can manipulate anything plant-related. 

Everytime you finish a mission the team splits up as soon as the debriefing is over and you walk straight here.

You sit on the bench, also made of vines, take out your diary and start writing.

You write about everything, from details of missions to your feelings about the team. From things you did that you don’t want to forget to things that you want to do after you’re not so tired anymore.

The hedges hide you from view and the only thing you can see when you’re here is the lake.

Sometimes, after a particular difficult mission, you don’t even write. You just sit there and look out into the water, the sunshine or moonlight shining down on you, and you feel at peace.

It helps that nobody else ever comes here. The team understands it’s your safe space, and the agents are mostly scared of your powers ever since you grew a giant carnivorous plant and it bit an agent that squeezed your ass during training. 

The agent got both taken to the medbay and suspended on the same day, and you got the thanks of about a dozen girls that had the same problem with the same asshole.

You walk out of the conference room, the debriefing of the team’s latest mission just wrapped up, and like usual everyone scatters to their own after-mission ritual.

Today, though, you can’t concentrate on anything.

Your feet take you to the rose garden by reflex, but your brain doesn’t even register you’re there until you sit on the bench.

Today’s mission took a lot out of you, not just because of the amount of magic you had to use to get everyone out safely, but also because it was your fault the team was in so much danger in the first place.

You fucked up your task, Natasha had to step in and save your ass, moving away from her post and making her late for her own task and that derailed the entire mission.

At the end, you had to use your powers to take out the hundreds of Hydra agents at the same time, which is no small feat and made you almost pass out.

Everybody told you on the way home not to worry, the mission was successfully accomplished and everyone made it out safely, but you know that if it wasn’t for your screw up the team would’ve gotten in and out of base without so much as a scratch. 

Nobody had fatal injuries, thank God, but Sam got shot in the leg, Clint got stabbed and everyone else had various degrees of injuries because Hydra got the jump on the team.

Because of me.

That was all you kept thinking about. Your brain had a field day making up all kinds of scenarios where your mistake cost someone’s life, a few of them even had the entire team dying because of your stupidity. 

You were so caught up in your head that you didn’t even notice someone following you to the rose garden.

Not that you ever do. 

If there’s one thing Bucky Barnes knows how to do, is move around undetected. He’s a master assassin, he was trained for this for over 50 years, he knows how to be a shadow.

Except now he uses his skills for good during missions and, occasionally, to follow you.

Not in a creepy way, of course, just to check on you. At least that’s the excuse he always uses so he won’t have to admit to himself that what he does is, indeed, a little creepy.

But he can’t help himself, Bucky knew from the moment he saw you that he was fucked. 

The moment you walked into the room to meet the team his heart was yours. You stole it with one simple smile, with one look of your beautiful eyes.

You introduced yourself and shook hands with everyone, but when you looked at Bucky he felt like a light came on and it was just you two.

You shook his hand and he felt like he had to take it off and give it to you, it was yours now. His hand, his arm, his leg, his head, his heart, his soul. Everything he is was now yours, he just knew it.

Then you said his name and he could’ve died right there and then. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and it was barely two syllables. Every word you said, every laugh and sound that came out of your pretty mouth, Bucky felt like it was all for him. Nobody else mattered.

Bucky knew then he was in love.

But he didn’t know how to approach you. You were like a fairy, like a princess. Growing flowers, always smiling, baking, growing everyone’s favorite flowers and always willing to help, like growing Aloe when Wanda burned herself cooking, or Chamomile to help with Tony’s anxiety, or Valerian roots whenever someone was feeling down. 

You were like sunshine and he was terrified he’d kill your light. But he’d be damned if he’d let the world kill it either, he’d protect you with his life.

So he took to following you, making sure you were safe from a distance.

But it’s not like he never talked to you, the more time you spent with the team the more comfortable Bucky got around you and eventually you became friends.

Bucky knew you could take care of yourself, you were one of the strongest members of the team, but he didn’t like it when you were in your rose garden by yourself. The tall hedges made it impossible to see incoming danger, so he kept an eye on you just to be sure.

For his own piece of mind. And you never saw him.

That was Bucky’s actual way to unwind after a mission.

He’d tell everybody he was going for a ride on his bike, but he’d drive it through the woods around the compound and to the other side of the lake where he’d have a perfect view of you without you knowing. 

Deep down he knew it was a little creepy, he could just ask you if he could join you, but he felt like you needed your time alone without anyone else around, and he knew if he asked you, you’d say yes no matter what you were feeling, because that’s just the kind of person you are.

So Bucky watched you from afar, always careful not to be seen. He watched you write for hours, it relaxed him to see your beautiful face so concentrated.

Sometimes you’d laugh quietly at what you were writing and those were the only times Bucky was grateful for the supersoldier serum that allowed him to hear such a beautiful sound even with so much distance between you.

But it was torture for him when he knew you had a bad day. Sometimes you’d hug your knees and cry, Bucky could tell how much you’d need a hug, and it killed him that he couldn’t just walk up to you and hug you.

Everytime he sees you cry his heart breaks a little and he always tries to make you feel better when you walk back inside. He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, he just tries to make you laugh. But all he wanted to do was dry your tears.

You did notice Bucky always seemed to act a little goofy when you're feeling down, like he somehow knew, but you never thought much of it.

You knew he was a very observant person, so you assumed he just saw your mood through your behavior better than most.

Bucky loves hanging out with you, even if it’s just as friends. You make fun of him like with everyone else, you don’t treat him like could explode at any moment, never walking on eggshells around him like most people do.

You’ve never been afraid of him, and he’s glad that you don’t treat him like glass. You treat him like everyone else, and it makes him feel normal.

Everytime time he hangs out with you, you take him back to a time where he was unbroken. You make him feel alive again.

And he falls more in love with you by the second because of it. You’re all he wants, he wants to have you and kiss your lips and never let anyone hurt you. That’s all he can think about, but he knows that’s not gonna happen.

He heard you talk to Natasha and Wanda, heard that there’s someone you’d gone on a few dates with. But Bucky knows that guy doesn’t deserve you, nobody does.

Even Bucky himself doesn’t deserve you, you’re too pure for anyone in this world, but if there’s someone that has any chance of making you happy, Bucky prays to God that that someone is him.

Bucky knows today’s mission shook you deeply. He knows you blame yourself, and no amount of reassurance will make you believe that everything is okay.

So today, for the first time, Bucky actually follows you. He can see your unfocused eyes even as you walk and he wants to be near you, just in case.

He almost walks to you when you curl up on the bench and start sobbing quietly, but he holds back not wanting to startle or upset you further.

He just listens to your soft cries until you stop and compose yourself. You sigh and get up, walking back to the Compound to take a much needed relaxing shower.

But you’re still so much in your own head that you don’t even notice you left your diary on the bench in the gazebo. 

Bucky did notice, though.

He’s tempted to call after you and tell you, but something deep down tells him not to. He waits until you’re gone and then walks to the bench, picking up your diary and opening it.

He doesn’t know why, he knows it’s wrong, these are your private thoughts, but he’s just drawn to it for some reason.

When he starts reading he notices you don’t mention any specific names, which makes sense because only you read it, you know who you’re writing about. He reads a page here and there, reading about your missions or lazy days. 

He reads about some memories with the team you wrote about, some he remembers and others he probably wasn’t there for, but seeing all these memories from your point of view does something to him.

It makes him feel connected to you, makes him feel like he’s reading your heart and soul, because he kind of is. Then he reads something that captures his attention completely. 

You write about eyes blue like the ocean and just as troubled, about a smile that could light up the world. You write about someone with a complicated past that never lost his spark, never lost his love for life. 

A man that went through hell, and never once took it out on the world. A man that didn’t ever blame the world, even when he had every right to, choosing instead to protect it. 

You filled pages and pages with everything you admire about this man, everything you love about him that you know he hates. 

And Bucky feels like every word you wrote, you wrote for him. But could this be him? Could he be the one you talk about in all your stories?

He wants to. He wants this to be him. He prays you’re talking about him. He wishes this could be him… Who is he kidding?

Of course it’s not me. 

It’s probably the guy you’ve been dating. Yeah, that’s it. You’re in love with that guy, that much is clear. 

Bucky gets to the page where you write about your dates with the guy, but he can’t read them.

He closes the diary, not knowing that you compared your date to Bucky every step of the way. Not knowing that you granted the guy a second date just to be sure he couldn’t compare to Bucky, and went on a third date at a coffee shop just to let him down gently.

Bucky didn’t read how you know he’s the one for you, he didn’t read his own name written in your handwriting, the only name in your whole diary because he’s the only person you never want to forget, even though you know you never will.

But Bucky didn’t read that.

He puts your diary back where it was on the bench and, with his heart broken and his hope that one day you could be his lost, he goes back inside and to his room.

It’s only when you go back to the rose garden after your shower that you notice you left your diary there, but don’t think much of it. Nobody ever comes here anyway, as far as you know.

After finding out you’re in love with someone else, Bucky can’t stop himself from acting differently towards you, which you don’t fail to notice.

It’s not like he’s mean, but your interactions get shorter, like he tries his best to end the conversation quickly.

He no longer sits close to you, no longer tries to make you laugh when you’re feeling down, doesn’t hang out with you as much during your down time and if he does, it’s never just the two of you anymore.

It’s silly to say, but you miss him.

Bucky knows he’s been distancing himself, he knows you’ve noticed and he can see it’s affecting you, but he’s doing this to protect himself.

He knows it’s only a matter of time before you present your boyfriend to the team, the man you’re in love with and he doesn’t want it to hurt more than necessary.

You decide not to push Bucky, knowing he has his reasons to pull away from you. Maybe he’s just trying to deal with all the stress the team’s been under and you don’t want to add any more to that, so you let him be.

A few weeks later the team’s on their sixth mission in just as many days and everyone is exhausted. You’ve been taking down Hydra base after Hydra base, because waiting too long meant losing your chance to shut down their operations for good before they got the opportunity to leave.

You’ve been dividing in smaller teams to take down the bases while still giving the team a chance to recuperate, but this last one was the biggest and required the whole team together, which sucked for you because you were in the last team with Steve and Bucky that took down a base just yesterday, so the three of you got barely a few hours of sleep while you flew to the last base.

You’ve cleared the base, all that’s left is the agents in the courtyard who are really going down fighting. The whole team is outside now, the Hydra agents giving you a hell of a fight. You’re using your magic against your better judgment, giant vines coming out of your arms like whips, covered in poisonous thorns. One touch of that and anyone would go down immediately, everyone except you.

Or at least that’s what you think.

As you’re fighting you can see an agent trying to sneak up on Bucky who’s fighting near you, so you quickly take care of it for him.

Bucky turns around and sees the agent down and then looks at you with that charming smile you fell in love with and winks at you. “Thank you, doll.”

That’s the friendliest Bucky’s been towards you in weeks and you can’t help but smile back with a small blush.

You can see the last agent standing coming at you from your peripheral vision and you quickly whip him with a vine, taking him down as soon as you can so you can turn back to look at Bucky, still smiling at you.

Bucky’s smile drops quickly, though, as he sees your face draining of any color. You barely have the time to register the sting of your own thorn on your arm that you’re already falling to the ground.

Bucky tries to catch you, but he gets thrown back by your magic that goes into defense mode, creating a wall of thorns to protect your now unconscious body.

The team doesn't know what to do, none of them know enough about plants to be sure that these thorns wouldn’t just kill them all.

The only one that would know that is you, the person that’s passed out, or worse, trapped in the midst of a cocoon of thorns.

“Okay, we need to find a safe way to-” Steve starts but cuts himself off almost immediately. “What are you doing?!”

Bucky doesn’t even turn around to answer, too intent on breaking the thorns around you with his metal arm, not caring that the thorns are ripping his clothes and scratching his face, all he can think about is getting to you.

He finally manages to get through to you, but nobody can follow because your magic regrows the thorns Bucky broke, trapping him with you inside the cocoon.

But Bucky doesn’t care, his eyes never leaving your face as he kneels behind you, running a finger softly along your cheek and shivering when he feels your skin is cold as ice.

His mind goes to the worst possibility, that there’s nothing he can do, but his brain gives him some hope reasoning that your magic wouldn’t be working if you were dead.

Right?

He snaps out of his thoughts when he feels the thorns around you vibrate, he takes you in his arms and shields you with his body from whatever is about to happen.

But the only thing that happens is the shade cast by the thorns gets replaced by sunlight. Bucky looks up and realizes Wanda used her magic to lift the thorn cocoon.

“You couldn’t have done that before?!” Bucky barks at Wanda with a glare while carefully picking you up to take you to the Quinjet.

“She’s not the dumbass that threw himself headfirst in a mess of thorns without even considering another course of action!” Natasha came in Wanda’s defense, though she seemed more amused at Bucky’s antics than annoyed.

As the team heads back home in the jet, Bruce examines you and lets the team know you’re still alive but in a sort of coma.

Their relief is cut short when Bruce makes it known that he has no idea when, or if, you’ll wake up.

As soon as the Quinjet lands you’re taken to the medbay and hooked up to machines, an IV in your arm to keep you hydrated.

Bucky holds your hand through it all, staying all night next to you just in case you wake up. He didn’t want you to be freaked out and alone, he wanted to be the first person to see your beautiful eyes open.

When morning comes, though, you’re still unconscious, but Bucky doesn’t lose hope. You probably need a good sleep.

That’s what he tells himself for two, three, four days.

That’s what he keeps telling himself for a week, two weeks. Never once leaving your side, not eating unless Steve brings him food and makes sure he eats before leaving, and using the bathroom of your room in the medbay.

He barely sleeps and, when he does, he dreams of you.

Everyone was getting worried about him, he refused to leave your side until one day Steve came into your room to tell Bucky there was something wrong with your rose garden.

Bucky was torn between staying with you and seeing what Steve was talking about, but decided that it would kill you if something happened to your roses so he had to make sure everything was okay when you woke up.

Because you’re going to wake up.

Bucky follows Steve to your rose garden, and his eyes widen in horror as soon as he sees it. The roses, the hedges, the vines.

Everything is dying.

Bucky’s heart breaks, only one thought in his mind. If your plants are dying, does that mean you’re slowly dying too?

No. That’s unacceptable. You’re not gonna die, not if Bucky has anything to do with it.

He takes it upon himself to take care of your garden, watering it and doing everything he can to keep the roses and vines alive, fooling himself into believing that this will keep you alive.

He stays on the gazebo day and night, sleeping on the bench, spending every waking moment trying to keep a hold of even the smallest part of you.

But it’s not enough. Nothing is enough.

Bucky loses track of how many days he’s been in your garden, sleeping maybe an hour at a time here and there, watering the roses every few hours and crying the rest of the time.

After all it’s his fault, if he hadn’t distracted you none of this would’ve happened. You’d be in your beautiful garden, probably with your boyfriend, and the only broken thing would be Bucky’s heart.

That he could’ve lived with. 

But how can he live with the knowledge that he caused your end? That he killed your light? That he killed his sunshine, his hope, the love of his life? He can’t live with that.

Not that he has to.

While Bucky’s spiraling while surrounded by dying roses, inside your room in the medbay you’re finally waking up after almost a month.

You open your eyes slowly, looking around you at the hospital-like room. There’s nobody around and, as you look at the window, you can see it’s really late at night.

You sit up and try to make sense of what happened while rubbing your eyes. The last thing you remember is Bucky’s bright smile, and then nothing.

You look down at your arm and see an IV, which you take out while frowning. How long have you been sleeping?

You carefully get off the bed and make your way outside to your rose garden, just to be sure everything’s okay. It’s not like anyone’s gonna stop you anyway.

When you get close, the moonlight shines on the hedges and you gasp at what you see. Your beautiful roses withering away, the gazebo made of vines dying too.

But the most confusing thing is the sobs coming from the bench, although no one’s sitting on it.

You get closer and see Bucky sitting in front of the bench while hugging his knees and crying softly. You frown and get a little closer before stopping, not wanting to startle him.

“Bucky…” You say quietly and his head snaps up, his eyes instantly meeting yours.

For a moment it feels like he’s trying to decide if you’re real, he reaches out and you extend your hand to take his. That seems to convince him and he gasps.

“Doll…” His voice is barely above a whisper, almost as if he thinks if he makes too much noise you’ll disappear.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him while getting a little closer to him, concern clear in your every feature.

It’s only when you get closer that you see his face full of cuts and you frown. Those are not just any scratches, it’s clear to you that they were made by thorns. “D-did… Did I do this to you?” 

You’re kneeling in front of him now, one hand still in his one the other comes up to trace the cuts in his face softly, but he takes your hand in his and kisses your palm.

“I’m okay…” He reassures you.

Just then he realizes, you’re fussing over him when you’re the one that’s been in a coma for a month. “Are you okay? How long have you been awake?” 

“I… I just woke up.” You tell him honestly, then look around at the dying roses and vines before looking back at him. “What happened to me?”

“You got stung by one of your poisonous thorns.” He says quietly, his thumbs rubbing circles on your skin while he refuses to let go of you. “You’ve been unconscious for almost a month.”

“A month?!” You’re shocked at the news, not knowing what to say or do, so you just stay there while letting the information sink in. The silence is broken by Bucky after a minute.

“I’m sorry about your roses… I tried to keep them alive, but…” He looks around with a hopeless expression. “I failed you.”

Your heart breaks a little. Does he really think he failed you?

You take a deep breath, then close your eyes and when you open them again a second later everything’s back to normal. The roses are as beautiful as ever, the gazebo just as majestic. It’s like nothing ever happened.

Bucky looks around in awe when he feels you take his chin and you make him look at you.

“You could never fail me.” You say firmly, wanting him to understand you mean it. You look at the cuts around his face and you can’t help the guilt and pain that you feel deep within you. “I’m sorry…”

“It wasn’t your fault.” It’s like Bucky can read your thoughts, he knows all you can see are your faults, and he wants you to know he doesn’t blame you for anything. “You weren’t even conscious. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I never wanted to be one of the people that hurt you…” Your voice is a whisper as a tear escapes you. “The world hurt you so much already… I never wanted to be part of that. You don’t deserve it.”

Bucky frowns. He feels like he’s heard those words, but where? No, he didn’t hear them. He read them. He read them in your diary, where you wrote about the man you’re in love with. Could it be possible?

Could I be him?

“It’s me…” He says lower than a whisper, his eyes locked on yours, and it’s your time to be confused now.

“What?” You ask him with a frown while wiping your cheeks.

“It’s me you’re in love with.” His voice is a little louder, but firm. He’s not asking you, he’s making a statement.

Your eyes widen in surprise, you almost take your hands away from his but his hold prevents you from doing that.

“I-I… What?” Is all you can bring yourself to say, confused as to why he’s so sure of it. Are you really that transparent?

“I read your diary…” Bucky says, guilt written all over his face, but at least he’s owning up to it. “You wrote about the man you love… and you wrote the same thing you just told me. It’s me, isn’t it? You love me back?” His voice is more hopeful now, his confident demeanor weavering.

“You… You read my diary?” You say, your mind still playing catch up.

It’s only a moment later that you register the ‘love me back’ and you don’t give him a chance to apologize or justify himself before you’re speaking again. “You love me?!” 

Bucky hesitates a moment but nods firmly. “I love you, doll. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.” 

You feel like someone punched you and all the air has left your body. You have no idea what to say, so you don’t say anything.

Instead you lean in and kiss him.

Bucky wastes no time kissing you back, but a thought pops into his mind and he reluctantly pulls back. “What about your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” You frown again, having no idea what he’s talking about. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t?” Bucky feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders and he pulls you to straddle him. “What about the guy you went on a few dates with?”

You narrow your eyes at him but decide to table the conversation about how he knows that for another time, so you smile at him and decide to just be honest with him.

“Do you honestly think that anyone could ever measure up to you? Because if you do, you’re an idiot.” Bucky grins and kisses you again. 

Maybe he is an idiot. But when he’s the idiot you’re in love with, how much of an idiot can he really be?

It looks like he can be him after all.

[uhhhj13iguess]

oh you little minx

peter parker x best friend!reader

summary: peter stumbles upon you and loki sparring, and his jealousy outs him

wc: 1.4k

peter wandered the halls of the compound, relishing in his afternoon off. his classwork was done, he'd finished helping tony on his suit, and he couldn't wait to use his free time to bug you. he hummed as he checked his phone again, tapping it aimlessly as he noted you still hadn't responded to his text. weird. i wonder where she--

peter heard your voice through the doors of the training room.

"like this?"

"perfect, darling."

peter frowned instantly at hearing loki's voice, not taking a moment to think as he hurried through the doors to the gym. he walked in and saw the two of you on the mats in the midst of what revealed to be a sparring session. he stayed back, watching you fight.

you faked loki out with a punch, immediately instead aiming for his feet. he dodged both though, catching your ankle with his and dropping you to the mat. he hovered over you, much too close for peter's comfort.

"darling, you're dealing with the god of mischief. you're going to have to try harder than that."

he watched as you gave the god a smirk, mischief in your own eyes. you immediately dropped to a pout, a whine escaping your throat.

"loki, i just don't think i'm any good at this."

he watched loki let up, sitting taller and letting go of your wrists. "you're getting there, lady (y/n). you just need to work on--OOMF."

you used loki's relaxed state to switch the positions, twisting him quickly to gain leverage on the situation and pin him to the mat instead. loki beamed at you with pride, a devilish smile creeping on his lips.

"clever girl."

the entire scene made peter's blood boil. he tried to regulate his breathing, clenching his fists at his side and rolling his shoulders out as he watched you stand and help loki up. the god stood far too close to you for peter's liking, not helping the overdrive of his senses in that moment.

"now darling, i'd like to teach you another move. it's quite effective when going against someone much larger than yourself." loki helped you get into a stance, walking you through the movement. with each passing touch on your body, peter was seeing red. he took a step forward and stopped himself.

you're not her boyfriend, parker. leave it alone.

loki finished his explanation and you feigned a look of confusion. "wait, i'm sorry, can you explain it one more time?"

"surely, my love." loki began to rewind his speech as you caught him off guard, immediately using the move he had just taught you against him. his back hit the floor and he choked out a cough. he sat up slightly, looking up at you as you stood in pride.

"oh, you little minx." loki growled as he grabbed your ankle and pulled you down with him, a fit of laughter erupting from you as both rolled on the ground, more playful than anything at that moment.

peter watched as loki held your waist and something in him snapped. he angrily marched out towards the two of you before he could stop himself, imaginary smoke billowing from his ears.

he came in hot and caught you off guard, jumping in your spot on the ground with loki.

"peter! hey, when did you come in?" you gave him a soft smile, unaware of the war crimes you'd committed against the poor boy.

he gave you a curt smile, his eyes shooting daggers at loki. the god smirked back at him.

"ah yes, spiderling. how do you do?"

Peter took a sharp inhale, his anger beginning to dissipate, instead flooding with panic. he had no idea how to justify being here.

"uh, fine. good. how, how are, uh, you guys?" peter cringed, mentally face palming as the words came out of his mouth. that's all you got?

loki stood, extending his hand out to help you up. peter's gaze was drilled in on your hands touching, loki's grasp on your hand lingering long enough to remind peter why he had come over in the first place.

"actually, (y/n), could i see you for a second?" he asked impatiently, jaw clenched tight.

loki's eyes lit up, a knowing smile creeping over his features. "ah, i see. lady (y/n), you must excuse me. i look forward to our next lesson."

he reached for your hand once more, bringing it to his lips and grazing your flesh with a soft kiss -- entirely making eye contact with peter as he did. he stood straight again, peter matching his form, fists clenched at his side. he tossed the boy a wink.

"peter."

loki left the room swiftly, leaving you and peter alone. peter felt instantly relieved, the weight on his shoulders lifting as he felt his body relax a bit. you unwrapped your knuckles, making your way over.

"what's up, pete? what did you need?"

fuck.

he hadn't thought this far ahead. again.

he shifted slightly. "oh! um, i just, uh..."

for fucks sake, you have a graduate's degree in biophysics. peter, think! of something!

"um..."

a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. "pete? you're acting weird, are you feeling okay?"

peter shifted awkwardly, his face flushing as he suddenly found his shoes all too interesting.

you started to get a picture of what was going on.

you stepped closer to him, close enough that he had to meet your gaze. you met it with a smirk.

"peter, if i didn't know any better, i'd say that you're jealous."

he let out a scoff. "jealous? me? yeah, well, good thing you don't know better."

"mhm, i'm sure. that didn't bother you? seeing his hands all over my body?"

peter clenched his jaw harshly, looking past you with an eye roll he had no control over. you had him exactly where you wanted him.

"no, i-i mean, no, obviously not. why would it?"

you let out a soft hum, placing a hand on his chest. "i don't know parker, why would it?"

peter took a shakey breath, chewing on the inside of his lip as he locked eyes with you again. fuck.

"i... yeah. okay, yeah, maybe." he squeezed his eyes shut, regretting every decision he'd made in the past twenty minutes.

bingo.

"oh, peter. i didn't mean to make you jealous, baby."

the pet name of it all made peter choke on his breath, his eyes flying open wide to pair with his beet-red face.

"well, i.... i just..."

"you're cute when you're jealous, you know that?"

peter was going to combust, the feeling of your hand on his chest beginning to burn a hole through his shirt. "y-yeah?"

you smiled up at him, snaking your arms around his neck and nearly bumping your noses together. "yeah,"

peter's shaking hands found their way to your waist with the little confidence he had left.

"you don't have anything to worry about, though."

peter let out a breath against your lips. "i don't?"

you shook your head. "no, pete."

you closed the gap between the two of you, pressing your lips softly against his. peter melted into the feeling, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist as he deepened the kiss. it started out sweet, a soft and innocent first kiss between pinning best friends, a gentle affirmation. it grew hungrier quickly, though, as you nipped at peter's bottom lip and tugged at the hair on the nape of his neck. peter moaned into the kiss, earning a smirk from you as you pulled back.

"oh," peter panted, staring at you as though you weren't even real.

this earned a sharp laugh from you as you leaned in to give him a hug that he immediately reciprocated.

"i can't believe you were jealous of loki, peter." you breathed into his chest. he leaned his head on top of yours.

"i can't believe he used the word minx in a non-sexual setting."

she's on a fic bender again, i fear. as always, leave any requests!