#peter parker ps4 x reader

[m0chaminx]

Peter Parker | Snow Storm

*•.¸♡Request: hello! can i please request ps4 peter fluff? maybe just peter coming back from a long night of patrolling and being really needy and tired <3

*•.¸♡Prompts: none

*•.¸♡Warnings: none

*•.¸♡Paring: ps4 Peter Parker x GN!reader

*•.¸♡Summary: Peter comes back from a night on patrol in the middle of winter. (This is straight up fluff)

*•.¸♡Words: 784

You raced around your small New York apart. Winter has surged through New York like it was intent on ruining your happiness and warmth. The heaters were broken, thank the landlord for that, and the small heat van had fallen from its place on your desk and broken against the hard floor in your hurried search. Search for what exactly? Peters's extra large black hoodie with a small spider symbol on the back, which you would never let him live down.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you found the hoodie in the stash of clothes you had stored in case Peter had decided to swing by. Just as you pulled the hoodie over your head your phone buzzed, its light shining through the darkness of your apartment. As you unlocked your phone you smiled softly, Peter's picture popping up in your messages. 

Is your window unlocked? 

It can be

PLEWASDE ITRS FREEZIUNG!!

ARE YOU SWINING AND TEXTING

IKLL BE OVER IN 5

You rolled your eyes and opened the latch to your apartment window before walking to the kitchen and putting a dozen pizza scrolls in the oven. As you walked back to the living area as Peter landed on the fire escape with a groan. He slipped through the window and flung his mask off. "Hello, hi, yes, you can kick me for this later," Peter rambled as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. You squealed as the cold of his suit chilled through the hoodie and your now freezing cheeks.

"Peter! Peter, you're freezing!"

"But you're so warm!" Peter ducked his head and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

"Go have a shower you creepy bug," You hissed, slipping from Peter's arms. "Get warm!" Peter groaned and threw his head back. "I'll set up a movie, I already have food on."

"You're the best," Peter cooed before turning towards the hall.

"Uh, Peter. Mask." Peter paused to grab the mask that he stuck to the side of the window sill before locking the window and rushing to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later you had set up the living room, most of your night had been spent on the couch with Peter anyway so most of the pillows were out there.

The living room was arranged to create the ultimate movie-watching experience. The centrepiece of the room was a plush, oversized sofa, adorned with soft throw pillows in mostly black and blues shades. In front of the sofa, a sleek and modern entertainment centre stood proudly, housing a large high-definition television. Netflix already set up on the movies section, the remote tossed thrown onto the table in between.

The small coffee table was placed within arm's reach of the sofa, holding the pizza rolls and whatever else you had found in the pantry. A bowl of freshly popped popcorn, still warm and smelling of salty butter, was surrounded by an array of snacks and hot chocolate.

As you set up to sink into the sofa Peter hopped over the back of the couch, stealing your spot. One of the hot chocolates almost split but Peter quickly caught it. "Hey-"

Peter pulled you down into the couch, your chest falling against his as your legs kicked up over the arm of the couch. "Hello to you too." Peter laughed and in a moment of pure affection, his eyes met yours. With gentle anticipation, his lips drew closer, the world around you both fading into the background. Time seemed to stand still as their hearts beat in synchrony, brimming with tender emotions.

Peter's lips finally met yours in a soft, delicate kiss, a sweet connection that sent sparks of warmth and joy coursing through your bodies. It was a gentle caress, filled with tenderness and an undeniable sense of belonging. In that fleeting instant, everything else ceased to exist, and their love spoke volumes in the quiet language of that sweet, innocent kiss.

Slowly Peter drew back, but still closer enough that his nose brushed against your forehead as he pressed a quick peck to your skin. "Tough night?" You asked softly, your hands coming up to trace a small cut above his eyebrows that had already healed to a small mark.

"Just long," Peter complained, his head dropping onto yours. "Evey second mission Yuri sent me on was on the other side of the city. I spent most of the night swinging in the freezing snowstorm."

"Well now..." You pulled yourself closer to Peter so you could curl against his chest. "You can just relax and watch The Princess Bride."

"We watch that every time," Peter complained, his head falling back against the couch.

"You can choose next."

ﾟ°☆Page Navigation

[lanae111]

THE BOY IS MINE‼️

[yns-world]

3:31 am.

"i'm sorry, baby."

y/n ran her black claws across peter's masked face, caressing his cheeks.

he was powerless against her touch, and he went still as he burned each second into his mind. that was all he could do in this game of cat and mouse— she would give him a taste and then run away.

and like actors reciting a scene by heart, y/n pulled up peter's mask to reveal his lips. but before she could plant her final remark, peter pulled off his entire mask and took her face into his hands, pouring all of his soul's love and affection into that kiss.

if you enjoyed this, please reblog. we all know that likes don't do anything to help a creator.

read my pinned post for request and comission rules :)

[periprose]

Angsty/Sad imagine idea for insomniac!peter parker

Reader dies in his arms or he visits her grave for the first time and he says something like "we weren't supposed to end like this" and its just sad....

😭 this ask made me sad but also excited to write! Thanks for requesting it.

/

"How is Spider-Man supposed to reach us in time?" The woman tied up next to you quivered in fear. "Those assholes having been taunting their guns for the last twenty minutes... oh God..."

You never worried if Peter would show up to rescue you in time. Ever since Fisk had gotten jailed, multiple up-and-coming criminals had taken this as their chance to shine.

Unfortunately for you, that meant being kidnapped or harassed, and often you'd get out of those situations thanks to the police- but being Spider-Man's girlfriend sometimes had it's privileges, namely that you could text him discreetly for help and he'd be on his way.

You always felt bad about it. You knew there were worse, harsher things happening out there. But Peter always insisted that you ask for help.

Usually it would end in a quick brawl, and you'd be safely thwipped into his arms, no harm done as you'd swing back to your apartment in safety.

This time, though? It's a lot more serious. These thugs want to "directly send a message to Spider-Man", and it's by poor luck that they've discovered your connection to him.

Every once in a while, they taunt you, but you're sure Peter will rescue you. You've sent him a text and he's read it- he must be frantically swinging right now.

"He's coming, don't worry." You try to comfort the woman beside you, but to no avail- she mutters that Spider-Man doesn't deserve a girlfriend if this is what happens to her, and that you need higher standards.

"This one's getting too confident, boss." One of the thugs kicks your side after hearing your remark, and you wince. "Being pretty won't save you now, bitch."

The woman next to you shrieks in fear- but she suddenly gasps in relief, and you see him, red-and-blue Spider-Man saviour swinging directly to the intersection you're currently kneeling at.

"I've got you, stay down!" Spider-Man shouts at you and the other hostages. He doesn't have a hint of his usual, tension-breaking humour, and it fills you with dread.

The pavement hurts your knees, but you stay down, not wanting to draw attention now as Spider-Man attacks and webs up your kidnappers. He's putting a lot more emphasis into his punches- it seems like they've really ruffled his feathers this time.

Of course, Peter's actually furious- he doesn't know how they figured out your connection to him, and he's desperate to take you away and hide you somewhere safe.

He wonders if he can convince you to move to New Jersey.

After a blur of punches, Peter sees that there's just one more guy to defeat- he swings forward, the guy shoots his gun, a flurry of bullets ricocheting everywhere, and Peter doesn't care about the sudden searing pain in his side- he takes him down.

He turns- hoping that you're still okay to go home now- but the woman next to you is crying hysterically, pointing to your slumped over body.

Oh no. Oh no. No, no, no.

Peter starts running, not with the confident poise of Spider-Man, but with the fear of a young man about to lose the one person he truly, truly cared about.

He scrambles over the pavement, where you're lying in a pool of your own blood, gunshot wounds scattered across your body- it just seems unnecessarily unfair, so needlessly cruel that the universe decided that you would take all those bullets. They should've hit him- he would've gladly taken every single shot.

"No, no. Please-" Peter squeezes your hand, as you look up at him, tears falling out of your eyes. Your face is ghostly pale, you're shuddering- but you still have enough time to say something.

"Keep... going..." You try, because you don't want Peter to blame himself for your own stupidity.

"No. Please, somebody help her!" Peter shouts, gritting his teeth, and there's nobody left here but him and you. Everyone else has ran off- and Peter's too shaken to call an ambulance at this moment. "I don't know what to do, don't- don't-"

You know what he means, and you're trying. You're using all your might to not die here, to let yourself be rescued and healed. But you can't let Peter stay agonized like this, not when he means so much to people, not when he protects so much more than just you, so you use your last reserve of energy to speak, even though he tries to shush you.

"New York... needs... you."

"I need you!" Peter yells, and you can tell he's crying under the mask. "It should've been me, I could've taken it- please don't-"

But Peter's luck always runs out, and it seems like the universe wants him to lose even more than he ever has. Your grip loosens from his hand, your eyes glaze over, and even though he sobs, clings on to you even more tightly- you just aren't there to hug him back this time.

/

It's been a month since Peter lost you so unceremoniously.

He stares at your gravestone in disbelief. None of this feels real- he was sure that if anyone in this world had to die from random criminals, it should've been him.

All the time, he feels like he's waiting for a phone call from you. He still swings by your apartment- your things have been removed, he can see that through the window.

Even though he saw your body being taken away into the ambulance, where you were immediately proclaimed dead, and he was at your funeral. It's like the reality of the situation is refusing to sink in his mind.

Even worse, he's taken out his rage on every petty criminal that comes his way now, as Spider-Man. J. Jonah Jameson loves it, calls him even more of a vengeance on the city, and that he should be behind bars.

Peter would be behind bars gladly if it meant you would've been safe. Maybe being Spider-Man was a mistake.

But he can't forget your last words. The last thing Peter would ever do is disappoint you, and he knows what you wanted. That he would keep protecting the city, that he would keep going despite it all.

Damn it, he hates you sometimes. Hates that you still know how to inspire hope in him, that you're such a significant presence in his heart that you're permanently etched there now. He hates how much he loves you, and how he's going to forever listen to you.

He just wishes you were here to see it through.

"We weren't supposed to end like this. It was supposed to be me and you, together, living a full life." He whispers. "It... it was supposed to be us, and our kids, our grandkids, hell even great grandkids, and then, only then, would I accept it. That we would be allowed to-"

He still can't bring himself to say die. So he lets himself swallow the agony, the sobs that always threaten to ebb out of his throat, and rests another bouquet of flowers at your grave.

[hanasnx]

closure

MINORS DNI 18+ WARNINGS: sexual content | booty calling spider-man :)

PETER PARKER doesn't understand why he keeps letting you do this to him. Over and over again you tell him friendship is all you want, yet at the late hours of the night— since you know he's already up— you ask if he can afford a break. Like an idiot, he swings by. Doesn't even get the chance to take off the suit before you're shoving him down into a seat, straddling him to rub yourself all over his bulge.

"Hey, easy," he tells you, "you're gonna leave a wet spot." To protest you, his gloved hands cup the plush flesh of your backside, lifting you over him. That spider-strength has you weak in the knees, eagerly latching onto his neck over the cloth. A gasp emits from him as he maneuvers his erection from the confines of his suit and you mouth at his pulse point.

"Want- you, Spider. Need you." At the invoke of that nickname, he lulls his head back and you bite onto him in your enthusiasm. A delicious and low groan pours from his throat, from both the sensation and anticipation of being inside you again. Obediently, he lowers you, nudging your entrance with the head of his cock until he feels a give. You suck in a breath to feel that stretch, no one stretches you like Peter does.

"Fuck," he drags out the word, slowly reintroducing you to his every inch. Impatiently, you push down, as if you could ever hope to overpower him. The man has lifted buses. "Wait a second, baby, wait," His fingers dig into your skin, warning you that you're going too quick for your sake.

"I can't wait any longer, you took so long getting here," you whine, burying your nose into the crook of his shoulder. You can smell his sweat through it, the musk of recent exercise, prowling the streets of Manhattan looking for trouble. "Just fuck me already?"

Pete can't believe this is working on him. Yet again bowing to your whims because he's that desperate for your attention, that desperate for your touch. He can't lie, your impetuous begging for him and his dick strokes more than his ego, length twitching while half-seated inside you. "You want it that bad?" his tone betrays his hope.

"Yes! Yes, please, Pete," With your plea, your grip on him inflects with your syllables, rutting your body against him for any kind of friction, while his halt remains infallible. No matter how you wiggle, he won't let you sink further. At first it was to keep you from hurting yourself, now it's because he likes hearing your bargain for him. Those addicting lips glide up to his ear, and he can feel your breath on the shell of it through his mask. "Need my friendly neighborhood Spider-Man."

"You're gonna pull that card? Seriously?" his indignant question is adversely punctuated with a buck up into you and you cry out. It got you fucking wet. It spurs him on, working himself up to a steady pace as he fucks you. He can hear the sounds of the city through the open window, if sirens flew by right now he's not sure he'd have the strength to leave you.

Putty in his hands, your body acts as fluid as he uses it, and you're so grateful you reached out to him. Fucking a superhero is thrilling enough, but fucking Spider-Man has a perk you can't pass up. That spider bite may have gifted an extra couple inches to his cock, but you're more interested in his power to fuck you like a sex toy. Along for the ride, you bounce on him because he's moving you. Like you're nothing. Out of instinct, your lips clumsily find his on the cloth as you brush noses. Your tongue peeks out, the felt drying the tip and his lips shift under your touch.

Breathless and amused, he asks, "Are you trying to french me through the mask again?"

[thespiderpals]

somebody

Insomniac!Peter Parker x F!Reader

summary - Peter is always saving everyone else, so for once you want to be the one saving him.

warnings - angst, hurt/comfort, Peter struggles to cope with loss, Peter physically struggling after putting Doctor Octavius away

Everybody needs somebody.

Peter often came home bloodied and covered in bruises. It was never surprising to spot him trying to sneak in through a window in the hopes of not letting you see him like that, but it always hurt you. His pain always hurt you, because he acted like it was nothing for the sake of everyone else. He was too selfless, too self-sacrificing, and every time he went out to face another supervillain you always feared that he wouldn't come home. And not because of a lack of faith in him, but because you knew he would go to any lengths to keep the city safe - to keep you safe - even if it meant losing his life.

So when you see the news of The Raft failing to contain it's prisoners, your heart almost stops at the sight of a familiar red-and-blue hero swinging to the rescue. Your heart sinks to the lowest part of your stomach as you watch the chaos unfold, and witness him being overwhelmed by all the big ones he put away.

And you can't help but cry when he crawls through your window hours later, banged up but okay because Yuri had found him and taken him to the hospital. You can't help but run to him and almost crush his bones again in a hug. You can't help but wet his neck with your tears as you mumble incoherently and tell him how much he scared you - how worried you'd been that you lost him.

And he holds you like he does every time, his arms secure around your waist as he presses several loving kisses to the top of your head. He rubs your back soothingly and tells you he's okay, he's here, and he's not going anywhere. He keeps you against his chest for what feels like forever, but neither of you complain. You're both just glad to be in each other's arms.

"You're so stupid," you tell him with glassy eyes when you finally look up at his tired face.

"I am?" He chuckles, "Why's that?"

"Making me worry so much..." Your hand finds its way to his cheek, and your heart flips as he leans into your touch, contentment on his face at your small but affectionate gesture.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, and you hear the sincerity in his voice.

"I know."

You know he won't stop until he's put every convict back in The Raft. You know he won't stop until he's put an end to Doctor Octavius's plans. So you do the only thing you can, you support him however you're able to. Whatever he needs you to do, you do it. If he needs you at home for the sake of his peace of mind, that's where you go. If he needs you helping out at the F.E.A.S.T center, you're happy to see May again. And you're happy to help the new kid, Miles, adjust.

But when all is said and done, and his heroics give way to tragedy, you're the only one who can stop him from spiralling. When he collapses over May, sobbing uncontrollably, you stand beside him with just as much pain in your heart at the loss of the most important person in both your lives. He blames himself, you already know, and the way he almost crushes your smaller frame in his despair makes your chest ache.

It was never fair to him.

He should never have had to choose.

He's been through enough. Not just in the last eight years, but just the last few days. Losing his mentor, having to fight him, then retrieving the cure only to find out he can't save May AND the city...

Many would be surprised that he's not broken yet.

But they don't see it.

You moved him into your apartment mere hours after he'd been evicted from his. So now that you were living together, you saw everything. The nightmares, the breakdowns, the episodes...you saw all of it.

"May!"

You jerked awake to the sound of Peter's scream, turning quickly to see the man sweating, shaking and in tears. You're quick to move closer to him, wrap your arms around him, and pull him to your chest. You're quick to murmur words of comfort in his ear, into his hair, wherever you can for him to hear.

They don't see him cling to you like you're his lifeline, like you're the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. They don't see how he soaks your shirt with his tears, how his body wracks with sobs as he's bruising your skin with his tight grip. You don't ever mind or care, his strength is the last thing on his mind in those moments and you would rather suffer through the pain than admit he's hurting you. Because he needs you, he needs to hold you, and you don't want to take that away from him.

"I'm here, baby," you reassure him, "It's okay. You're okay." And as you comb your fingers through his hair that you love so much, you mumble the very words he needs to hear. "I love you."

They don't see his hands shaking every time he tries to do menial tasks around the apartment - the way your expression softens and you move over to help him.

"There you go baby," you gently ease the omelettes onto the plates, setting them down on the table for breakfast. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he says shakily, trying to smile at you but you can see the way his lips tremble. "Thanks."

They don't see the way he struggles to deal with inheriting May's house, the way his eyes gloss over as a thousand memories slam into him with the force of a tidal wave. You're sitting on his old bed with him, his hand in yours and your lips pressing reassuring kisses to his shoulder.

"I don't think I could have done this alone," he admits quietly, before looking at you. "Thanks for being here."

"Always," you smile back, squeezing his hand.

He returns the smile, but it fades as he looks around again, "I don't think I can stay here alone either." He looks at you, and runs his thumb across the back of your hand. "Move in with me."

"We were already living together silly," you laugh, resting your head on his shoulder.

"I know," he smiles, "You can bring all your stuff here. Bye bye rent."

You laugh at that and turn to him, "I'll do just that." And then you kiss him, smiling wider when he mumbles 'I love you' against your lips. "I love you too."

No one sees that you're the only reason he's not broken. The only reason he hasn't gone insane. You're always there for him, always there to catch him. He saves the city, and you save him.

Everybody needs somebody, and he's eternally grateful to have you.

He proposes with May's ring, which was willed to him. You're overwhelmed with emotion by the gesture, your heart swelling at the fact that he wanted you to have her ring. And of course you say yes, you've been ready to marry him since before any of this started.

Slowly he starts to heal, and he puts the horrors of the Devil's Breath incident behind him. He chooses to move on, knowing his future looks good with you in it.

"And what would you like for dinner, Mrs Parker?" He teases you every night since you made it official, knowing just how much it flusters you. But that's only a cover, he really likes saying it.

"Hmmm, maybe your world-famous dumplings," you tease back, laughing as you sit at the small table in the kitchen.

"As you wish, my lady."

Slowly, the old Peter Parker comes back to life. He makes more jokes, he sleeps like a log, he's generally more lively and energetic. And you love to see it.

And then Harry Osborn returns.

"You have to meet my wife."

"You're married?! Was I gone for that long?"

When Peter introduces Harry to you, you can see how happy he is and the way his eyes light up is something you haven't seen in a long time. It warms you to see that things are getting better for your hero.

Unfortunately, that peaceful happiness is short-lived.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Yan! Peter Parker x reader x Yan! Harry Osborn - Poly headcanons

A/N: They are just too cute together and I just feel like they'd work well in a poly dynamic. Ofc i'm going to yandere-ify every damn thing.

Warnings: Obsession, stalking, over-protection...

Masterlist

Requests: always open

Both Peter and Harry are absolute sweethearts and care very much about the people around them. It's clear that they are willing to do whatever it takes to not only keep the community safe but as healthy and happy as possible.

You are no exception to the rule. ...but admittedly they can be a bit over stepping when it comes to the relationship with you.

Peter is known to be quite over-baring and a bit controlling in relationships. It's one of the reasons MJ couldn't continue with it. Peter has a good heart but he's just lost so much that he can be a bit blinded when it comes to seeing the lines that he shouldn't cross.

He can also have a bit of a temper, it's usually well contained but there are times where it slips up. Most notably when someone harmed you or he's jealous of someone. This is not to say he's ever spoken down to you or got violent. He can just be a bit of a jerk or throw a small tantrum. Peter always makes up for it though, he doesn't like loosing his cool and is always striving to be a better boyfriend.

I can imagine that you were a close friends or even already in a relationship when Harry came along and Peter was superrr jealous of Harry. Like they absolutely love each other but Peter has always felt a bit inferior and insecure next to Harry and it's so cute watching Peter get all flustered over the fact you and his bestie are clicking so well.

After the idea of the relationship was proposed, that jealousy went away and the relationship became very tight-nit.

Harry is a very optimistic and easy going guy. He takes a bit more of a softer yandere role. He prefers to observe you from a far and keep trackers on you. The gifted jewelry from him is always chipped with some sort of device so he can monitor you better. False sense of freedom!

He's very uptight about your well being though. Anything that could potentially make you unwell or injured is immediately blocked out of your life. While he loves enjoying life to its fullest, no, you cannot do anything extreme. It's too risky. He doesn't want you hooked up to monitors like he once was.

Harry isn't much of a jealous type in the relationship. He really doesn't have much of a temper either, it'd take a lot for him to snap. Seeing a douche flirt with you doesn't phase him, he's a filthy rich and attractive guy. Simply putting his arm around you is enough to cause the man to cower because of his family's name. There's really not much competition out there. But like Peter he can still be rather possessive. You belong to them not anyone else and while he doesn't feel threatened by anyone, he doesn't like to share you much outside of Peter.

Peter and Harry often are in cahoots about how to keep you safe and send each other updates about you. You'll tell Harry that you are going out to a friend's place and Harry will happily kiss you goodbye...but the second that you are gone, Harry is texting Pete to go stalk you on roof tops.

They can also be a little manipulative when you are making a decision they disagree with. You wanted to do a study abroad thing and they were like hell no. New York needs Spider-man and the foundation needs Harry....If you wanna take a trip then Harry can make arrangements for an accompanied va-cay.

Harry plays the most dominant role in the relationship. He's often the mediator when you and Peter might disagree, he is extremely social and the one planning dates and events..plus he's basically the main financial provider.

Peter is your guard dog. He's super friendly looking but also he's jacked enough to scare most men off when you're out together. This makes him a bit smug at timesss....He's always alert about your surroundings and it's easy to feel safe with him. He's also a good person to confide in and help with your issues.

Speaking of being out with them...They are either always holding your hand or having their arms around you. I like to think at event dinners for Harry, Peter keeps his hand on your leg and Harry had his arm intertwined with yours.

Oh it's a non negotiable to live with them. You are to put the notice in. Harry will take care of the fees from breaking your lease. You guys are a family now. You saw just how persistent Peter was with getting MJ to move in....

No, you don't have your own bedroom. Why would you wanna sleep alone when you have two lover that you can snuggle with every night?

Harry and Peter might try to keep you locked up in the house or at the lab 24/7 with them. They are quite good persuaders when it comes to convincing you to just stay in.

They are obsessed with you. Both Peter and Harry love taking photos of you, sniffing your hair, taking your clothing items...it's like a small trade ring going on between them. They are always looking at you with such admiration and love..Maybe there's a smidge of insanity in their gazes... They are both extremely affectionate and require constant affirmations and attention. Yes, they are both busy men but they are willing to drop everything for you. Every few hours in the group chat they are sending messages or calling you to hear you voice. Peter could be in the middle of fighting and hearing you say " I just wanted to say I love you" will always make him melt. Harry won't mind you sitting on his lap for hours while he works on nerdy things.

Please don't go incognito on them. Don't take off your tracker jewelry, don't turn off your phone and don't leave them with no clue to where you are going. I don't care that you're angry...please.

Peter will be stressing and absolutely going after every suspect in his book, Harry is trying to keep him calm but he's also making calls to people to locate you. You will be basically on a leash for now on. They will not let you our of their sights again. Maybe Harry needs to look into getting chip place in your brain....

[int-writersmind]

Fragile

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: The first night you and Peter are intimate together...

Part 3 of Potential Customer (could be read as a standalone)

Warnings: Smut, smut, (semi-dirty) Smut, unprotected sex (whoops), little Fluff at the end

Word Count: 1.7k

Authors Note: This series started off pretty gn w/ the Reader so I tried my best to carry that on w/ this part. Forgive me if isn't that great, I'm a cis woman trying her best, Enjoy!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Is this ok?” Peter asks.

“Yes. It. Is. You flop against your bed, elbows holding yourself up, slowly opening your legs, giving Peter space to situate himself in between. He stands there for a moment looking you up and down before leaning over you. “Are you down?”

“Hell yes.”

He quickly kisses you on your lips before going to your neck, peppering more down your throat. Your fingers go to the front of his shirt, pushing the buttons through the loops. His hands go to your pants, slowly unbuttoning, then pushing them down. You peel off his shirt as you reach the last of the buttons, his hands trailing up your body, bringing your shirt upwards and over your head. He brings his hands down your body, down your chest, fingers gliding over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their absence. His fingers wrap around the waistband of your pants, pulling them off in one easy swoop. 

As your hands go towards Peter’s pants you catch him looking you up and down, his eyes practically memorizing your skin. “Gosh, you’re making me nervous…” You say.

Peter’s eyes immediately go to yours, “I don’t mean to, just…taking everything in” He goes towards your ear, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I’m making sure I don’t forget a single thing.” You chuckle as you push his pants down, Peter helping, making sure it comes off. Your fingers creeping towards Peter’s waistband are going to pull them down— ”You sure? Last chance to change your mind.”

“Whatever you’re hiding, Peter Parker, I wanna see.” You push his underwear down all the way, fighting the urge to look down. You fail, of course, face turning red, you bring your eyes back up to meet Peter’s. He kisses your smirk away, bringing a hand in between your legs, touching you in ways that make your eyes shut, his hand movements making you gasp and struggle under his touch. “Oh..my…”

Peter’s hands pick up the pace, causing that heat in the low of your stomach to grow. You feel yourself reaching your peak before Peter takes his hand away, causing you to groan in response. “...Not yet” Peter whispers, bringing his hand up to his mouth and licking away your excess from his fingers. 

His hands take your hips and pull them closer to him, one hand gripping onto your hip, the other guiding himself inside of you. You wince the deeper he goes, and you gasp, going to clutch his shoulder.

“Am I hurting you?” Peter whispers.

“Oh god no,” You bring one hand to his face and using the back of your hand softly graze his face. “I don’t think you could ever hurt me.”

Peter bends down, placing a kiss on your lips as he starts to move, slowly at first, gentle, perhaps a little too gentle for you.

“I’m not fragile, you know?” Your voice is low and soft. 

“I know.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me.”

“I know.”

“Then Peter,” You grip his chin, keeping his face straight on yours. “Pick up the fucking pace.” You both laugh as Peter does in fact take your suggestion into consideration, snapping his hips into you, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head.  

As Peter keeps up the pace, he grips your headboard, leaving a slight dent in the metal that you don’t notice until the next day. His head falls into the crook of your neck, nipping at the sweaty skin. 

Your hands graze his back, feeling the curves of his moving muscles, fingers falling into the dip of his shoulder blades. One hand going to the low of his back, slowly pushing downward, giving him permission to go deeper, opening more of yourself to him.

Peter looks down, his hair damp causing it to curl and stick to his forehead, his sweat making him almost glow. Your eyes catch one another, neither one of you daring to break contact. The arm resting on the headboard falls to rest next to your head, the other caressing the side of your leg. Peter slows the pace, but not the pressure. “Oh god, I-” Peter struggles to get out. “I-”

One of your hands snakes their way from nape to scalp, gently massaging his roots. “Tell me what you want.” You respond.

“I-uh-” His head dips forward to kiss you, on the chin first, then the side of your face, to behind your ear. “God-I-”

You gently tug his head backward so that your eyes are finally meeting together once again, his movement stills for a moment. “I want you to use your words, sweetheart.”

Peter laughs at this, “I think I’m the one that is supposed to say that.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” You move up and gently bite him on the ear, “Plus I can’t imagine you saying that.”

Peter growls just slightly, “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me” His mouth moves to your ear, “Like all the naughty things I want to say to you, want to do to you.”

The two of you look at one another again, holding intense eye contact before breaking out into laughter. “Well, so? Do I get the part?” Peter asks.

“Shut the fuck up…” 

The two of you embrace in a hot, messy, kiss, your arm hooking him closer, tongues entering each other's mouth.

“I want you,” Peter says between gaps of kissing, breathless, “Not just now, but every night, just like this.”

The two of you break away from one another, Peter looking down smiling such a genuine smile that you couldn’t help but blush from this intimacy, from his vulnerability. Thank god you didn’t call out of work that day.

“Ditto.” Was all you managed to say, you smiled back, causing him to chuckle and grin in response.

You turn on your stomach, Peter placing kisses down from the nape of your neck down to your tailbone. He gently lifts your hips, before guiding himself into you once again.

A sigh falls from your lips at the familiar feeling inside of you, Peter’s hips crashing into you, pressing you into the bed farther and farther, one hand going between your legs, pleasuring yourself.

Peter’s head leans down, resting on your shoulder, his moans and groans turning you on more than anything he was doing physically. One of your hands, resting on the bed, is soon covered by Peter’s, his hand interlocking with yours, squeezing, and squeezing and squeezing–

“Ow, Peter-”

Peter quickly stops everything, lifting his head from your shoulder. “Oh God, I, I-”

“Hey,” You turn your head, craning to see his worried face. “Accidents happen, and remember I’m not fragile.” You turn on your back once more, careful to not let him slip out of you. “Just keep your eyes on me, babe, keep your eyes on me.

You hold his face in both your hands, pulling him for another kiss on the lips, then another on one side of his face “Darling,” Than another on the other side, “Honey,”

“God, we gotta talk about this obsession with pet names,” Peter responds, the panic finally leaving his face.

You giggle back, “Only after you fuck me like you did earlier.”

You hold each other's attention as Peter does just that, eyes never leaving each other, noses so close that with every thrust his nose brushes against yours. You bring one hand in between your legs, making quick work to bring yourself back to the edge, so close you could trip into pleasure. “Ah, ah- oh god, Peter…”

Waves of pleasure spread throughout your body, the heat that built in the lower part of your stomach spreading to every inch. You throb against Peter inside you, with him continuing his pace, until he’s burying his head in the crook of your neck, groaning as he releases inside of you, pressing your bodies against one another. 

Letting some of his body weight on you, Peter lifts his head so he can look at you, glancing back, spent, but happy.

Seemingly untired from the whole ordeal, Peter climbs up your body kissing you again, deeply, passionately, as if he didn’t know you would escape and never come back. 

Tired, you kiss back, running your hands through his hair as you do so. As Peter finally looks into your eyes. “God we are so sweaty.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “You’re so fucking…I don’t even…I don’t even know.”

Peter takes himself out of you, shifting so he lays next to you, leaning over to look at you. “You know what? I’m gonna have to wash that dirty mouth of yours.”

“Oh please,” You go to thwack Peter on the forehead with your pointer finger flicking from your thumb. “Weren’t you the one that had naughty things to say to me?”

He catches your wrist effortlessly, placing a kiss on the inside, “Doesn’t count, I was under a lustful haze.”

“Fuck you!” You say, laughing as his head turns to face you.

“You already did.”

You roll your eyes before sitting up and placing a kiss on Peter’s lips. “Don’t go anywhere I gotta pee.”

And you do so, as Peter remains on the bed, arms crossed behind his head, an image that makes you chuckle as you come back. “God, you-you look even better now.”

“You’re only saying that ‘cause I’m literally naked.” You climb back in bed, turning to lay on your side to face him. 

“Maybe,” He turns to his side as well, “But I would say that to you even if you wore twenty layers of the heaviest of snow clothes.”

“Yeah maybe to yourself”

“Ugh, just get over here!”

The two of you just laugh as Peter pulls you into his chest, turning you around so that your back is now flush against his chest.

“Ugh, Pete, I’m sticky and hot.”

“I really don’t care.”

You reach back to play once again with his hair, “But I’m sweaty, so, so sweaty.”

“God, you could say a million other things and it wouldn’t matter,” He lifts his head so his lips are close to your ear, “I want you.”

“And I want you.” You strain your neck to see him, “Only for your body, of course.”

“Of course”

The two of you laugh as the moonlight shines through the window, illuminating a conversion that no one else will hear, but would be the start of something amazing to the both of you.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Hey thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed, Part 4 (the final part) will be out Sunday. Hope to see you there 😜

masterlist

[multi-fandom-enjoyer]

Peter opens a window and crawls through it to see Miles and Y/n on the floor laughing.

Peter: Silly string? Really?

Miles: April fools!

Y/n: Sorry we couldn't help ourselves.

Peter: How many people have you pranked today?

Y/n: Not many just you, Felicia, Strange, Logan-

Logan: Y/n!!!

Y/n: Oh crap...

The apartment door flies off its hinges, causing you to jump out the window and swing away.

Logan runs to the window after you, with nail polished covering his claws.

[serenity--writes]

Devotion | Peter Parker x Reader

Being friends with Peter Parker is easy. You fit together so well, it’s like sliding a puzzle piece into its designated slot on the first try. It’s studying together, laughing together, having him take you up to the Empire State Building in the middle of the night because he can, gaping down at the city in awe because wow, New York really can be beautiful. Or, Peter Parker as your best friend, your boyfriend, and then your husband (to be). //3.7k~ words. Unedited. GN! Reader. Any Peter, I just really like Andrew Garfield's face (even though it's hidden in the gif lol).

You can’t sleep. 

All you can think is, ‘Is he okay? What if he’s hurt?’ Your mind spins with each and every fear, and your body aches with it. Anxiety is nothing new, but it’s so constant now. You wake up and wonder if he’s still alive, if he’s safe, and it feels like you can’t breathe until you see him in person. Texting doesn’t help much anymore, because he could be texting you on his metaphorical deathbed and you wouldn’t know—

Your name echoes in the air. You whip around, eyes wild. “Peter?!” He’s barely inside your bedroom before you’re throwing yourself at him. The window falls shut as he slides his leg in with the rest of him. 

Peter winces as you enclose his waist in your arms, groaning. Jerking back, you peer worriedly at him. You spot dark red on blue and your blood runs cold. “Do I need to get the med kit?”

He shuffles over to your desk chair with his breath stuttering in his chest. Despite the jerkiness of his movements, his voice is even. If you hadn’t seen him, you wouldn’t think anything was wrong. That thought frightens you. “Yeah. Please.”

You’ve done this what feels like hundreds of times, but your hands still shake as you grab the stocked up med kit, courtesy of your nurse mom. She probably never imagined you’d be using it for Spider-Man. Who also happens to be the little boy (now teenager) she’d watched grow up with her kid.

She would shake Peter up and down, asking why he was putting himself in so much danger. 

In that, you and your mom are very similar. 

You return with the cargo, watching as your idiot best friend inhales, then exhales. He’s sprawled out on your chair, all long legs and mussed hair. His face is pale. No shit.

“Okay,” you start, hands ghosting over his suit. You don’t know where to touch and where to avoid, anxiety cruising through you like it was on a fucking joyride. You kind of want to puke, but don’t feel like vomiting up chili right now. It would burn. “Suit off. Can’t stitch you closed if the suit’s in the way.”

Peter wiggles his eyebrows, eyes still closed. “If you wanted me to undress, all you had to do was ask—”

“You’ve been saying that line for six months, Parker, learn some new material.” 

“Ouch,” he pouts, but complies. The suit is skin-tight, and he struggles to get it off without wincing so hard you’re afraid his face will stay that way, so you help him tug it off his shoulders, letting it pool around his waist. Blood soaks his stomach. “Last name already?”

Your stomach churns, his joke going in one ear and out the other. “Jesus Christ, Pete.”

He smiles shakily. “Not as bad as it looks, promise.”

Looks pretty fucking bad. You dig out the needle and suture kit without looking, then grab a disinfectant pad and steel yourself for another night of praying your hands don’t fail and you accidentally fuck him up even worse. 

Peter grabs your shaking hand and squeezes. “You got this,” he says, soft. His eyes are tired, but so kind. “You’ve done this before, and you were perfect. Okay? You can do this.” 

You nod, wiping your hands with the disinfectant pad before grabbing another. The wound looks daunting compared to the last, and it’s no wonder he’s drooping like a sunflower with too little sun; he’s losing a lot of blood. “Shit, okay. You’re right. Fuck, Peter, you really need to be more careful.”

His response is swallowed by a pained gasp as you run the pad over the serrated skin. “Fuck,” he whines. Then he laughs at himself. “Hurts more than getting stabbed, which is really w-weird.” 

“Duh. Alcohol burns, and you were probably running on adrenaline back there.” Your lips will be ruined in the morning, with how much you’re biting them, but you can’t bring yourself to care. The small sting of pain helps you focus as you thread the needle and start sewing him up.

You try to distract him from the pain. And yourself from the heavy weight on your chest; if this gets any worse, you’ll start suffocating. “So, we’re still on for the Star Wars marathon this weekend, right?”

Peter grins, and the sight of it steadies your hands. “Smooth. But yeah, unless there’s, y’know.”

You roll your eyes, kissing your teeth as you complete the first stitch. “Not all of us are masters of conversation, Your Majesty. And yeah, I do—gonna ditch me for your heroics, huh?”

“Let’s hope t—they… all decide to take a day off,” Peter jokes. Despite the improbability of it happening, it’d be nice to have a night with him all to yourself. “Mandated time off, even. With pay.”

“Paying criminals now?” You tsk teasingly. “Spider-Man, the meddling menace who’s secretly working with his, quote, ‘greatest foes!’ to make a quick buck—”

Peter laughs so hard he almost dislodges the stitches; would have, too, if you didn’t put a hand on his stomach (wow, he’s toned) to keep the wound steady. “You did not just try to imitate Jameson. Oh fuck, that’s funny—” He giggles breathlessly. 

“Laugh it up, Spidey, and there’ll be a new podcast out there slandering you any day now.”

The last stitch is done, and you don’t even attempt to hide your grin as you tie off your work. Peter hands you the bandages before you can reach for them, whispering a small ‘you’re welcome’ before you can say anything—typical Peter—and helps you wind it around his stomach. 

“For the record, your podcast would suck.”

“Suck it, Parker.”

—

Being friends with Peter Parker is easy. You fit together so well, it’s like sliding a puzzle piece into its designated slot on the first try. It’s studying together, laughing together, having him take you up to the Empire State Building in the middle of the night because he can, gaping down at the city in awe because wow, New York can be beautiful.

It’s… patching him up after a long day, taking him in your arms as he weeps because he couldn’t save her—God, I couldn’t—and trying not to cry as your hands shake and you feel like your body is an electric current, so in tune with him that it feels like you’re falling apart with him but not knowing why. 

.

.

.

“Honey.”

You narrow your eyes. Shake your head. 

“Love?”

You grimace. 

“Yeah, not British enough.” His eyebrows furrow. “Love-er?”

“Pete, we are not British. We are also not in the middle ages.”

He laughs, throwing his hands up. “'Babe'! That’s literally a classic. Can’t go wrong. It’s like the bread and soup of pet names.”

You wrinkle your nose. 

“C’mon, that’s perfect. You’re acting like a baby, so it fits, anyway.”

“Fighting works, Parker,” you warn him, biting your smile away. 

Peter raises an eyebrow. “Right,” he drawls. You don’t look at him but you know he’s flexing his irritatingly good-looking arms. Yeah, you have eyes. And a functioning brain. 

“Just call me by my name,” you suggest. Like a normal person. 

He sighs like you’ve exhausted all of his patience. “I love you, babe, but you are seriously in need of some relationship etiquette lessons. I’m sure Aunt May would love to be president. She’d be great at it. And she wouldn’t charge you admission because being my boyfriend has benefits—”

“Yeah, gotta make up for the lack of health care somehow.”

You turn around to find him wide-eyed. 

…

Okay, maybe that was too far. “Pete?”

He collapses onto the floor with a dramatic gasp. “Stone cold words from the love of my life! That hit harder than Rhino, and I gotta tell ya, he hits like a truck. Wow,” he chuckles breathlessly, eyes meeting yours. 

You soften. “Hey, bugboy.”

He doesn’t make fun of the nickname, but you can tell he wants to. “Hey, lover.”

“... Still weird. Why’re you so bad at pet names?” You crawl over and lay down beside him, cushioning your head on his upper arm.

He shrugs his other shoulder. “I guess I just excel in every other field but that one. Don’t hold it against me?” Cue the puppy-dog eyes. 

You snigger. “Help me with that chem question, and we’re all good.”

“Mmm, fair trade. I accept.”

—

You’re familiar with it: the longing. The loneliness. It doesn’t get better, but you adapt to it. It hurts less, even though the sting lasts longer now. You can’t brush it off as easily.

You know what you signed up for, and you’re not a quitter. 

Especially not when it comes to Peter Parker. 

He’s late, again, and you know why—it’d be hard to not see the fight happening a few miles away. Social media is blowing up with doom and gloom, worry for Spider-Man, hate for Spider-Man (you block people who post those comments; you don’t need to see that shit), and demands for better security. 

Peter’s swinging circles around Electro, who blasts electricity at him in between moments of chase. How he got out of the Raft is anyone’s guess, but he did, and now your boyfriend is chasing him around Harlam like it’s life or death. Which—you guessed it—it most likely is.

Being in prison, much less one like the Raft, festers a type of hate that can only bring destruction for the person who put you in there. 

People rush to the windows to gape at the scene, pressing you against it as they vie for a look. You’re suffocated literally and figuratively, your breath stuck in your chest and unable to escape. “C’mon, Spidey,” someone whispers from beside you. 

You glance at the man, but he’s already walking away. 

Your fists clench at your sides as you brave another look at the man who haunts and blesses your dreams. Electro staggers as Peter throws something—a car door?—at him. Your body lights up with hope from the inside. Yeah. C’mon, Peter. You can do it. 

Soft, brown eyes. Gentle, calloused hands. Warm, inviting arms. Feathery, windswept hair. You breathe out slowly, remembering the feel of him. The sound of him. He’ll be okay.

He always is. Even if it takes a while. Even if it’s hard. Sometimes, it feels impossibly far away, but you’ve been there throughout it all. You know him.

And he promised—

“I’ll always come back to you.”

—

“Honey?”

You pause your stirring, heart beating so fast that you have to take a deep breath before turning around. Tears well in your eyes and he panics, stumbling forward. He calls your name as you tremble. 

He holds you against his chest, knowing just what you need. Thump, thump—

Peter’s arm moves away from you, moving the pot off the burner. It makes a small clink against the glass stove. You exhale warily, knees shaking as the stress that weighed on your shoulders dissolves. Thump, thump, thump. It’s all you can hear, that lovely sound. His heart beating is your favorite thing to wake up to, and it’s so beautiful. Too perfect to put into words. 

“You’re okay?” you ask, voice a whisper. You can’t manage anything more.

Peter’s grip tightens for a moment as he tugs you away from the kitchen and to the couch. “Just a little fried. I’m okay, everything’s pretty much healed already.” He pauses, and you wait. There’s more. “He wasn’t prepared like last time. I don’t know who got him out, but… it was a spur of the moment kind of thing.”

Not Octavius, then. 

“I’m sorry for missing dinner. I—I really wanted to make it. I tried to text but he fried my phone.”

Thump, thump, thump. 

You shake your head against his chest. His heartbeat jumps as you settle against him, and you smile. Thump, thump—thump. You want to crawl inside him, that’s how empowering your love is. It scares you, sometimes, how much you crave him. A world where only you and him exists doesn’t sound too bad on days like these. Love crawls up your throat like acid, but it’s sweet. You can’t help but let it go, let him experience your devotion—“I love you, Peter Parker.”

His name is like honey on your tongue. 

Peter laughs, voice wet. “I love you, too. More than anything.”

You grab his wrist and slip your fingers between his, and marvel at the snug, comfortable fit. It’s perfect.

—

Being partners with Peter Parker is like a trip on acid, if you had to sum it up. It’s messy, full of ups and downs, euphoric but with a crash that’s unlike any other. But there’s always another rainbow on the horizon, another chance that maybe it’ll go better this time. It’s a life unlike any other, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

.

.

.

Peter gets down on one knee the day he almost dies. 

He’s pale as a ghost, blood crusting underneath his fingernails. His arms shake as the pain sets in, but his eyes never leave you.

Neither of you are dressed up, and you both desperately need a shower, but he gets down on one knee, no ring, and lets his devotion spill from his lips and the genuine love in his eyes make the emotions bubbling inside you burst. A sob tears through your throat, and you let him devour it with his lips, and it feels like healing. 

Yes, yes, yes, yes—

It’s an easy choice. 

Blood soaks your clothes as he falls into you, but his frantic eyes and strong hands pull you from your worry and you fall into pleasure. He’s lovely, this way, so fierce and vibrant, vigour pouring out from him in waves. 

Thump, thump, thump—thump. 

He murmurs your name, and that’s all it takes.

I love you.

—

“Blue,” you suggest. “And white. With hints of red.”

Peter side eyes you as you conspire with your mom about the colors of your wedding. You smirk at him when she turns away, and he grins back, bashful, before letting May steal his attention.

“You’re not at all patriotic,” your mom complains. “Where is this coming from? And why couldn’t you do this when we went to that football game—”

“Spider-Man wears red, white, and blue,” you explain. You know you’re confusing her, but it’s fun to watch. And Peter’s blushing face never gets old, even as you two do; teasing him is one of your favorite pastimes. 

Your mom thinks Peter has a ‘man-crush’ on Spider-Man, and she doesn’t tolerate it. ‘His heart is meant for you, and only you, honey. This Spider-Man is a good man, but he’s not Peter’s man. Take some sense into him before I do.’ 

It’s hilarious. 

Peter’s gone through this before, which makes it even more funny. Posts on Twitter about him dating Spider-Man have gone viral before, and you tease him about it mercilessly, more than a decade later. 

“You’re not really planning our wedding based on Spider-Man, right, honey?” Peter slides an arm around your waist, placing a chaste kiss to your cheek as your mom watches in approval. She loves Peter, Spider-Man crush notwithstanding, and she makes sure he knows it. He’s been a part of your family for a while, but she doesn’t want him to question his place. Even your father loves Peter, which is a miracle in and of itself. 

“They are,” your mother sighs, leaning back in her chair. You and Peter share an amused look. “I told them that blue and white were perfect, but they insisted.” She eyes you. “Talk with him, and get his opinion. It’s your day together, not just yours.” She smiles at Peter as she stands, patting his head like she always does. “Don’t let them strong-arm you into something you don’t want, Peter.”

You cross your arms, every bit the petulant child you were twenty years ago. She says that you’ll always be her little baby, and you’re kind of convinced she’s mind-controlled you or something. She did have a pocket watch when she was younger… Maybe she hypnotized you, like that one Scooby-Doo episode; you’ll ask Pete later, he’ll know. “Mom.”

She does that mom-thing, you know the one—she goes ‘ah-ah-ah’, finger wag included, and gives you a look. “You are stubborn, and Peter is madly in love with you. He will say yes to everything, despite what he wants. Be mature, child of mine.”

Peter pouts as she walks away. She throws her arms around May and laughs; they’re the perfect picture of best friends. You smile before turning back to your lovely fiancé, whose pout dies down as you snuggle up to him. “Hey,” he says breathlessly. “Love you.”

(… Your mom may have had a point earlier.)

If you thought you fit together perfectly before, years ago, then you are practically melded into one being now. His skin against yours was like being enveloped in warmth, and his breath mixing with yours could send you into a lovesick spiral if you weren’t careful, too drunk on him to do much else. But his smile, crooked and unabashedly stunning, stands out as the moon to your night sky. 

You kiss him, slow and deep. He tastes like chocolate and mint tooth-paste. You pull away when your smiles become too wide to continue. Your voice is tinged with sweetness as you giggle into his neck. “I love you, too.”

—

The hectic day of wedding planning ends with the sky streaked in golden rays, oranges and yellows towering over the blues. It ends with long, dark eyelashes resting against soft cheeks, chocolate eyes hidden from the world. Soft, chestnut curls tickle your cheek from where Peter leans into you, and your thumb drifts over his hands, calloused and worn but ever-so gentle.

Your music hums in your ear, the artist crooning about love and life and the days that fly by. You tap your foot to the beat, the slow rhythm unfamiliar but lovely all the same. It gives you nostalgia for a life you’ve yet to live.

Suddenly, you get an idea. 

Gently guiding Peter onto his back, your couch significantly better than the one he’d endured while he was fresh from May’s house, you press a kiss to his forehead. 

Your earbuds stay in your ears, and you sway back and forth as you enter the kitchen, letting the infectious happiness of the music overtake you. 

One thing you know Peter loves is wheat cakes, May’s recipe. Of which she’d just given you as the two of you left. ‘A little gift,’ she’d hummed, clicking her tongue as you stammered and thanked her. Her hug was warm and kind, and you had melted into it without a second thought. May Parker will always be a lovely woman, but she shone like diamonds to you in that moment, when she pulled away and told you that you were the best thing to ever happen to Peter.

Even now, just thinking about it makes you tear up. 

Knowing how much Peter values May’s opinion makes it all the sweeter. You feel like you’re on top of the world. It’s almost too much, but the view you’re gazing at now is so much better than the one you saw on the Empire State Building; you’re staring at Peter, and he’s so bright, a star glowing amongst the dark, and he’s yours and you’re his, and he’s the best thing to ever happen to you, too.

—

You shake Peter’s shoulders, coaxing him out of sleep. He groans and wipes his eyes groggily. “Lover,” he says with a lop-sided grin as he takes you in. You’re wearing his clothes. A soft, faded MIT sweatshirt with sweatpants that hang low on your hips. You’re surrounded by the smell of him, and the only time you’ve felt safer was in his arms.

“Bugboy,” you retort fondly. The game is old and familiar, memories of nights spent play-arguing rushing to the forefront of your mind before they’re stolen by the lips pressing against yours. You smile against his lips as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. They’re broad, strong enough to hold the world upon them if they must. And your ankles, but that’s neither here nor there.

“I made food,” you say as he pulls away. He looks dizzyingly attractive, all flushed and pliant. You want to eat him instead, but you worked hard on that dinner, damn him. 

He’s smug as though he knows what you’re thinking, scooping you up and into his arms as he waltzes into the dining room. Your music plays softly in the background, earbuds unplugged and set aside. The wheat cakes are finishing baking on the stovetop, the smell enough to make him perk up and remove his face from your neck.

Peter’s eyes sparkle. You want to grab his camera and capture him in the moment—you're rarely the one behind it, and it's a shame. “No way!” 

Abruptly, the tension—the good kind—fades into lighthearted tones. From rose-red to tulip-pink, from dusk to sunrise. You grin. “May gave me the recipe,” you say, settling into your seat.

“Really? Oh wow, they smell so good…”

Without looking, you call out, “No dessert until after dinner. Y’know the one I just spent an hour making!” His chair, right beside you, sits distanced from the table, right where you left it. 

“Whatever you say, honey.”

You grin smugly, swallowing your bite. “Good boy.”

He doesn’t whimper, but it’s a near thing.

—

Being (almost) married to Peter Parker is like… dancing in the dark, not knowing where you’re going but having so many feelings in your heart that you’re about to burst. It’s small moments of silence, comfortable in each other’s presence that no words are needed. It’s biting back tears as he grimaces and comforts you as he bleeds onto your floors. It’s the days where you wake up to his face, painted gold and flush by the morning sun. 

It’s the small acts of devotion. Notes left in every nook and cranny of the house, small little assurances and reminders and nonsense that leaves you smiling. Dinner made and put away for him to reheat when he gets home, cold and hungry. Little things you had your eye on, placed perfectly in your space so you can’t miss them. Arms open, so he can soak in your presence and bask in your love for him. Music playing, low and crooning, as he takes you into his arms and twirls you around your home, laughter decorating the walls and saturating the air.

Thump, thump, thump.

[meiluu]

Tis' The Season

Peter Parker one-shot

Peter Parker/ Female Reader can be any peter :) cw: SMUT 18+ MDNI, this is basically pure filth that came to me in a dream and i had to write it, mating season *wink*, breeding kink, creampie, feral and protective peter.

*not edited*

peter pov.

When Peter got bit by that radioactive spider, then waking up in a new body, being able to do what he thought was impossible. He thought that he would be the only one in the world who was like him. But as the universe would have it, there was another.

 It had been a rather uneventful day of swinging around New York, catching would-be robbers or the occasional purse snatcher, when he had decided to take a different route back to his apartment. He didn't know why his body acted on its own accord- almost like it was possessed and on a mission. Slowing down his pace, quietly landing on the roof of a building his eyes locked onto a girl. She was carrying a couple of boxes into what Peter assumes is her new apartment. But the moment he's able to get a full look at her his spider senses are buzzing, electricity shooting down his back. 

This was a wholly new sensation, whenever his senses went off it usually indicated danger and sent his blood rushing as his body pumped adrenaline into his veins. but this- it was like a melody, a soft tune that lulled his body into a state of comfort and familiarity. It was like his body was telling him to go to her. Though embarrassingly enough Peter had been gawking at her and with his senses singing around him it was almost like they sent a message to her because in a quick motion she was looking out the window and towards peter. Thankfully enough Peter was quick enough to duck down, getting cover from the edge of the roof, shielding himself from her view. A huff left his lips, god what is wrong with me?, a multitude of thoughts ran through his head a majority of them shaming Peter for being a creep. Although a small portion of those thoughts were relishing in what they had just witnessed, She was so beautiful...

With that little encounter Peter was quick to head home, hoping to forget the weird experience. 

It was a few months later that Peter would eventually meet her again. Throughout those months Peter would always feel that same soft and comfortable feeling in the back of his mind, like she was always near him. Come to find out she had actually been following Spider-Man, but it proved more than difficult to follow the superhero. She had been essentially guessing on where he would possibly show up, hoping to get lucky and catch a chance to talk to him. Whenever y/n moved into her new apartment she had mainly locked herself up, given the drastic and terrifying changes her body was undergoing, she never got the chance to turn on her t.v. But when she did, a surge of hope blossomed within her chest. Spider-Man was the source of that hope. After doing a bit of investigating she was able to uncover that he was someone like her, maybe not bitten like her but he showcased all the things that were happening to her. And so she made it her mission to talk to him- and to hopefully find out more about herself, and to maybe make a friend along the way.

And that day finally came, after spending a couple of hours on the roof of a building where Spider-Man frequented- there he was, standing right before her. Her senses buzzed in pure happiness, and his senses were singing to him. "Hey." Peter was breathless, lost in the feeling that was coursing through him and it didn't help that she was absolutely angelic looking as the sun casted a golden glow upon her skin. "Hi." a timid voice was all she could muster, all her words becoming stuck within her throat.

And from that day onwards they become each other's salvation. Finally after coming to the conclusion that Peter would be the only one that was like him, it was a very welcomed surprise to find someone who was just like him. Your relationship started off slowly, as you both got to understand how you both were changed- answering one another questions. you both moved onto asking questions like, "Which star wars movie is your favorite?", "what’s your favorite place to get pizza?". Then one day it was, "Can I show you who I am?".

The day that Peter took off his mask was a day neither of you would forget. That day Peter felt a weight be lifted from his shoulders, no longer held back by the barrier that the mask created he could finally be with you as Peter parker. 

Slowly lifting the mask from his face, his eyes locking onto yours. Your face split into a smile so big your cheeks had started to hurt. His brown locks were messy from being underneath the mask- and he was so handsome, you were utterly lost in his visage. Peter had been slowly inching his way towards you, getting close enough to catch onto your familiar scent and warmth. Looking down at you Peter raised his free hand, gently cupping your cheek. "Can I kiss you?" his voice was nothing but whisper meant only for you. "Yes, please." your cheeks where dusted in a rosy blush, and with such care Peter leaned down enveloping your lips with his. Dropping his mask, he now has both hands cupping your face like you were made of porcelain glass. Sweet and soft lips, dance together- you lips tasting like your favorite lip-gloss. Gathering up the courage Peter tentatively bites your bottom lip, asking so sweetly for entrance. Opening your mouth your flooded by the undeniable taste of him. Unashamedly you'll admit that you and Peter spent the better part of that day making out, until the sun set behind the horizon, and only then did you both finally separate from each others embrace. And from that your relationship reached a whole new level, trust within each other bloomed and with that came love, an unfathomable amount of love for one another.

—

You and Peter had been together for a little over a year now, your bond with one another growing with each passing day- and with that growth came a new discovery. After being together for an extended amount of time your senses along with Peter's had become attuned with one another's. You could feel Peter's presence from halfway across the city, and that went for Peter as well. He would catch himself periodically checking up on you while he was swinging throughout the city. And no matter where he was he would always find his way to you, with your senses always calling out to him.

Peter had woken up this morning, turning on his side and seeing you buried within the sheets of his bed, heart swelling at the sweet sight. And like any morning he had, he got up to start his routine but something was off. His senses felt like they were in hypervigilance, with this looming feeling that he needed to secure his apartment, hairs raising and goosebumps erupting across his skin. Peter had quickly thrown on his suit and started patrolling the area around his apartment. Although Peter didn't understand why he had this need, seeing as his apartment was well protected by the many gadgets he had implemented, as well as it being high above the city in a nice area. But he followed his instincts, seeing as they have never proved him wrong before… and it wasn’t like he could ignore them. So he spent the next few hours making sure that there were no threats around his home. And like a timer going off his body completely switched its motion, senses now wholly focused on you. He needed to get home now. Quickly maneuvering through an open window, landing softly on his feet, his mind and body on a one track mission on finding you. Giving into his senses he allows his body to guide him to you.

Opening the door to his bedroom, he is immediately hit with your mouth watering scent permeating throughout the room. And with his eyes zeroing in on you he sees you webbing- his mind pauses at what he is seeing, how can you be webbing anything without his web cartridges'? Then he’s whipping his head down to his own wrists seeing how he never reloaded his web-shooters before he left this morning. How did he not notice that he was producing organic webs? But before he was able to begin his theories his mind had begun to solely focus on you, your scent and watching as you made some sort of nest. The nest so far consisted of your duvet cover, pillows, and was all being held up by your webs. A part of him wants to go up to you but the more instinctual part of him tells him to wait, telling him that what you are doing is very important and you needed all your focus upon what you were doing.

With one last pillow, Peter's senses buzz with your call- you were using your senses to communicate with him. Your hair was still untamed from sleeping all night, but you looked so beautiful right at this moment. Sitting perched in your nest eyes full of love as your senses begged Peter to come to you. And in a swift movement Peter is jumping and latching onto the ceiling crawling his way towards you. Reaching you, Peter envelopes you within his strong embrace, burying his head within the crook of your neck. mumbles of 'I love you.', 'So pretty.' , 'Smell so good.' tumble from Peters lips. You sigh at the praise, reciprocating his love tenfold.

Through the soft kisses that Peter litters across your face, reaching your mouth his tongue dives in dancing with yours. The heat within him grows. A need so strong it has him whimpering into your mouth- and it seems you are on the same page. Hurriedly discarding each other's clothes, a wave of relief floods through him, finally feeling your bare skin. "Baby-Fuck." Peter groans as his fingers get a feel of how wet you are. A needy whimper leaves your slightly swollen lips, "Peter...please, I need you so bad." Peter's entire body tenses up at your words, a near-growl rumbling from within his chest echoes around you two. Spreading your legs, giving Peter an open invitation to fuck you, and he accepts it without hesitation. Lining his aching cock that's dripping pre-cum at your cunt, only a moment later is Peter sinking into you. Satisfied noises of pleasure leave the both of you, pushing to the hilt- hips flushed with one another. Peter is leaning over, his face over yours, and his arms are snugly wrapped around your body.

Grinding his cock further into you, eyes rolling back at the feel of your walls trying to suck him in further. Another whimper of Peter's name has him losing all semblance of care as he starts at a rough and fast pace. Your cunt is warm and dripping, and with every harsh thrust of Peter's hips it has your eyes rolling into the back of your head- moans of pleasure being punched out of you with every harsh plunge of his cock. Latching onto his muscular back, trying to keep yourself grounded to him- seeing as it's not enough you twist your head to the side biting down hard into the skin where his shoulder and neck meet. A loud 'Fuck' accompanied with your name tumbles from Peter's lips. Manhandling you, Peter moves your legs to rest upon his shoulders as he latches onto the blanket and pillows around you. Fucking into you with every bit of strength within him, mind and body on the sole mission to mate you and to truly make you his. Your body in tune with his, you are spreading your legs wider as your hands latch onto Peter's backside, trying to communicate with Peter but failing as a messy jumble of words is all you can muster. But thankfully Peter catches onto your message, sliding his hand down to your backside he tilts your hips upwards towards him. Allowing him to reach so deep into you, you swear you could feel him within your throat. Thrust after thrust, you feel yourself reaching closer to euphoria, thighs quivering in anticipation as your cunt continues to dribble its arousal around Peters pistoning cock. Leaving one side of Peter's backside you snake your free hand to your clit. Rubbing hasty circles around the bundle of nerves, and not too soon later you're cumming. Cunt rhythmically squeezing around Peter's cock, begging it to fill you. A moan tumbles from Peter's lips as he feels your walls tighten around him, feeling hot pleasure roll down his back before he feels himself cumming into you. Sloppy thrusts of Peter riding out both of your highs slowly come to a stop. Breathless and flushed in residual pleasure you both gently turn to your sides, making sure to stay connected as you both come down from your highs. Exhaustion is quick to take you both, wrapped in each other's embrace, still connected as one. 

Peter doesn’t know what time it is when he wakes, all he knows is that he needs you and you need him. Maneuvering you onto your hands and knees, sinking into you. A pleasure filled moan falls from your lips, jutting your hips up giving Peter a better angle to fuck you deeper. Hips pistoning into you, latching onto the blankets around you trying to keep yourself steady with Peter's brutal thrusts. Unhappy with how far apart you are Peter is leaning forward, front to your back. Face right next to your ear. Your mind is soon flooded with the sounds of Peter's pleasure. A moan  leaves you as Peter bites down onto your shoulder, and brings one of his hands to your clit. Swirling his fingers around your bundle of nerves, your body is quick to go pliant under him. Letting him fuck and fill you to his content, your body sings in happiness when you cum around his cock and Peter is soon to follow in your lead. Warmth pools within your belly, a content smile takes over your face. And with that you are snuggling deeper into your nest, falling back asleep.

Peter huffs out a breath, slowly removing himself from your cunt. His mind is the most clear it’s been since the last time he was awake. Making sure you are secure in your bundle of blankets, Peter quietly descends from your nest, putting on a pair of sweats. Now Peters mind is trying to figure out how long you’ve both been in your nest, doing nothing else but fucking. In the haze of his memories he sees that he would periodically leave the nest to get you both feed, would fuck again and then fall asleep with you. Peter heads over to his phone, quickly doing mental math…and shit he’s been with you for nearly 5 days! But before he can stress about that fact, his senses are going into overdrive.

Someone was coming to his door. Thankfully the apartment was dark, with the only illumination being from the full moon seeping in through the curtains. Peter is jumping to the ceiling, a whirlwind of protectiveness and anger swirling within his chest. Then he hears the front door open. Using the shadows to his advantage, Peter is quietly crawling into the living room. His mind is flooding with all the ways he could kill the intruder. Looking down from the ceiling he can make out a couple of figures, voices merging together. Readying his arm, waiting until…Now! With fast and precise movements he’s webbing the intruders to the adjacent wall, but before he can web up the last intruder his mind is halted by his voice being called out. “Peter! What the hell kid!” Tony’s voice rings through his head. “Jarvis, turn on the lights.” Light floods the living room, and with it Peter is able to see Tony with his hands up in surrender. And to the adjacent wall he sees, Steve, Bucky and Sam webbed to the wall. Mind reeling at what he sees, shame floods through his body. He was going to kill them! What is wrong with him…”Kid, you need to calm down- or you're going to pass out.” Tony's voice is soothing, and with that Peters is able to realize he’s been hyperventilating. Slowly calming his breathing, he lowers his arm backing away from Tony. “What, what are you doing here?” Peter's voice is barely above a whisper. A concerned look crosses Tony’s face, “Kid you’ve been M.I.A for 5 days, we were getting worried when you didn’t respond to us.” Peter's body is slowly relaxing, “I- I’m sorry, I’ve been…busy.” Cringing internally at the word ‘busy’. “Kid, you're gonna have to give me more than just ‘busy’. We haven’t seen you in 5 days, no sight of you swinging around New York. Thank god you have Jarvis installed, because without him we wouldn’t even know if you were alive.” 

Peter's gut churns, shame and guilt swirling within him. “Can I come by the tower tomorrow, then I can explain everything.” Tony has a sympathetic look upon his face, “Peter-“ Peter soon stops listening to him when he feels his senses buzz, you are awake and you're terrified. Worried that Peter wasn’t there when you awoke to what sounded like a fight going on in the living room. Whipping his head to the bedroom, he tries to communicate that you needed to stay in the bedroom. Then in the corner of his eye he sees Tony moving towards him- getting closer to you. “No! Stay back, don’t take another step.” Shock mars Tony’s features, Peter had growled out his words. They were nothing short of a command, his face was painted in anger and fierce protectiveness. Arms ready to web him to the wall. “Kid! I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

“I know that but I can’t let you get closer to her, you guys need to leave. Please..” Tony takes a moment before nodding his hand and then makes his way to the others that have been stuck to the wall this entire time. Quickly cutting them free, Peter watches as they eventually leave, now his body can finally truly relax. Shoulders slumping in relief. But that relief is short lived with the weight of what he was supposed to do now.

How in the world was he going to explain this Tony and to you now that you’re awake?!

[websterss]

CAPTAIN AMERICA

IRON MAN

KRAVEN

LOKI

MOON KNIGHT

PETER PARKER

THUNDERBOLTS*

‣ BACK TO: MASTERLISTS

[professionalcinderellas]

anti-symbiotic

pairing: insomniac's/ps5 peter parker/reader

warning: marvel's spiderman 2 spoilers! summary: Peter almost killed you last night under the influence of the symbiote, and you have the pleasure of dealing with the aftermath. tags: reader is mj, angst, anger, all that jazz.

author's note: loved spiderman 2 but didn't really feel fulfilled with how they don't address this particular scene. crossposted on ao3.

Peter Parker's antics never made you scared. Broken bones, gunshot wounds, mystical villains, or masked demons, it never felt particularly "hard" being Spider-man's girlfriend. Aside from some missed dates and late bills and being generally overprotective once upon a time, things were generally great. Handling anything with him felt so easy in spite of the pressures that were put on you.

But since Aunt May died, it felt as if Peter was somewhere far away that you couldn't reach. Ever since he almost died, even further away. He was already hardly home, and when he was, he was obsessively working on something to use as Spider-man. You knew he needed time, but you also knew he needed to talk about his feelings--even though you knew he wouldn't. Weeks of attempts piled up in the corner of your mind, endless replays of asking him if he was okay and trying to lure it out of him. After the fiftieth failed attempt to coax him to bed, with the sun already high in the sky and him still working on his iron spider legs, you found yourself wondering just how much distance lay between the two of you.

But it was never something that felt tangibly tested until now.

Last night was spent desperately trying to wake him while hunters gathered around the area, swarming Peter and losing track of Miles in the process. Your palms still felt the pebbled gravel of the road embedded into them, and the damp coldness of being trapped in that tunnel. Peter's voice, if it even was Peter at that point, rang in your head all night.

He could've really hurt you, and could have even killed you. 

The thought made you acutely aware of the cuts and bruises that littered your body from last night; your bandaids felt itchy and your hand started gently nursing at a scab that was on your knuckle. Thankfully, Harry and yours' fresh tea demanded more importance to distract you. Until you walked into Peter in Harry's room, where the intensity of their gazes made you immediately aware of the context of their conversation.

"Pete!" You never said his name before like you did now. There was an honest attempt to hold your gaze steady at him, before it eventually fell. The bags under your eyes felt much more apparent suddenly, and your eyes defocused themselves on the ground as you set aside the two cups of tea occupying your hands. Your skin felt prickly, like it didn't fit right over your body, and you couldn't help but wonder if this is what the symbiote also felt like. 

"Uhm," The words drowned in your throat and sunk back into your chest. A long pause takes over the room before you're able to find your voice. "What do you remember about last night?"

Your body betrays you in full, arms frozen on your sides and lifted up ever so slightly as if you were prepared to sprint out of the room at a moment's notice. It takes everything in you to look at his face, and he isn't looking at you so much as he's looking at the floor trying to recall. 

"I... just remember feeling tired..." Peter's brows are knitted together to form an expression that feels foreign to you. For some reason, a look of betrayal for your suspicion clears over his features. Peter's sharp brows and tensed jaw warned like a snake about to bite. Comparatively, Harry's eyes darted over to you, with eyebrows raised ever so slightly--a wordless sentence that made itself clear to you from expression alone. 

You okay? You could see his face asking. It took a slow nod from you before Harry's attention moves back to Peter. Your words are careful by the time you open your mouth next. "Pete... you're not yourself. That suit is changing you."

"This suit is the only reason I'm still alive." He didn't have the slimy black tendrils he did last night, but he didn't need that for you to step back with the tone he sported.

"Yeah, it's pretty great, isn't it?" Harry speaks up.

"Why don't you pop some more pills and say what you're really feeling?"

A fly buzzes over their heads. Harry is standing up with his cane, and you can't fathom why. Their words are too quick for you to react, but they replay in your mind again for good measure. It makes heat rise in your face and a cloud dawns over your usual good judgement, making you feel almost jittery. You take a sharp breath inwards to stable yourself on the tightrope of their conversation--and then you willingly fall off.

"Stop Pete, what is your problem?" Your tone rose significantly, anger replacing whatever hesitancy you had before.

"I'm busting my ass out there trying to save you, and this is what I get?" Peter continues on at Harry, and you realize he made a conscious choice to ignore your words. Which pisses you off even more. 

"I said stop, Peter." Your eyebrows raise over the word 'stop' and your mouth enunciates every single word, dragging him away from the attention of Harry. Peter turns to you wordlessly with those unfamiliar fixed brows you've been studying. You could push the envelope more.

"I saw your story." Acknowledgement. Peter's fangs are bared towards you now.

"I tried to tell you." Indignance defies the fear that made you back off, and you find yourself closer to him as you speak. The intensity of his gaze means nothing when you're made acutely aware it isn't Peter Parker you're speaking to anymore, or at least, not the one you knew. As far as your mind was concerned, this was a near stranger.

"Yeah, but you didn't, did you? Your job is to write the truth." Peter retorts angrily. This provokes another sharp inhale from you that makes you almost dizzy. A laugh echoes through the room, and only afterward do you recognize it as your own--it serves as your own kind of warning.

"I did. Nothing I said in there was a lie. It was kind of prophetic, really." A slow shake of your head emphasizes the contempt you bare towards him in response, your tone even and sharp for good measure. It felt agonizing to write those words last night, but when Peter nearly kills you and treat Harry like this? Whatever empathy you held in your chest dissolves entirely. Who gave a shit if you didn't have powers?

"The truth is, I'm the hero here. Not you." Peter shot back. It may have been the paranoia, but it feels as if those familiar tendrils were going to spout out of him again at any second. 

"Yeah, real hero you are, huh? Real heroes almost kill their girlfriend because their suit was doing their bidding for them? Is that what you tell yourself?"

Everyone in the room stopped breathing. You were in Peter's face now, close enough that you were looking up at him. Peter's face freezes in time alongside his breath, and the expression is no longer so terrifying to you now. 

"What are you-"

Stop. Don't say anything you can't take back, you thought, but something in the back of your mind wanted to take it further. You study his features again and the words boil over. 

"What? Are you gonna try and kill me again?" You exhale into the tail end of a laugh, and you can feel it hit the both of you. Your hands are shaking. Peter's hands are clenching and unclenching in a repeating cycle. His gaze doesn't even meet yours anymore. 

"I-I didn't know. I don't remember that." There's a flicker of the Peter you knows in his eyes, and a shadow falls over his eyes when he looks down. His expression read as... shameful, embarrassed, or torn maybe. You're curious if he remembers, but it doesn't matter either way. It was clear his feelings were hurt, and your words were a bucket of cold water over his head. But you weren't going to budge.

"You should leave. Harry doesn't need this right now." Peter's eyes snapped to you to read your expression, but there was nothing displayed on your face. Your eyes met his to prove a point, and then trailed over to look at Harry, who was staring at the both of you with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry." It's the last thing he says as he exits the room, his head hung downwards and his shoulders hunched inwards. It's only after he leaves that you can finally breathe again, your shoulders slumping and eyes squeezed shut. Harry looks at you with an expression you're not interested in finding out. 

"Are you okay?" Harry asks, with a tone that read almost like he was approaching some sort of wild animal. It made you snap out of your anger and finally look at him, your lips thinning into a line. 

"Yeah. It's fine, sorry, didn't mean to get into that in front of you. Or use you as an excuse." Your hands were still shaking, and you were starting to take deep breaths to take yourself down a notch. Not wanting to have Harry try and comfort you when he was the one who was sick, you look towards the towards the door and back at him. "If you want to check on him, you should." 

He nods slowly and makes his way out of his room, his cane hitting the ground rhythmically as he walked out. It was the only sound you could hear as you sunk back on Harry's couch, the cold leather being of no comfort.

You didn't open your eyes as you sat back. You didn't want to see Peter waiting by the elevator or see Spider-man swing across the city skies or have Harry comfort you. A wave of regret washes over you in full, whatever feelings you were holding back in your anger coming back in full swing to puncture your chest. You knew you weren't right for your outburst, and it feels as if every word hung on to fear rather than love. It's hard to imagine what Peter would have done to you if he did catch you, your mind involuntarily running through vague daydreams of dismembered limbs or becoming a tendrilled monster yourself.

But it didn't matter when all those thoughts lead back to Peter's face as it fell when you spoke, anger dissolving into sadness and shame. 

[parkerpeter24]

Heyy I just replayed the Spider-Man ps4 and ps5 games and was wondering if you could write something where the reader is a big comic Spider-Man fan from a universe where he does not exist. Then they somehow get transported to the insomniac Spider-Man universe. If that makes sense?

through space and through time

coming through with a mediocre fic, here you go ✌️

pairing ➭ insomniac!peter x reader.

warnings: strong language (like, one word); i haven’t read many comics so i couldn’t involve any references but i hope you enjoy this.

“i can’t afford that, i’m broke.” you sighed, clutching the spider-man shirt in your hand before you placed it down gently over the piled up similar shirts, the anxious store worker who’d been constantly following you since you entered the place instantly reaching out to fold the material of clothing.

“maybe you can get it for your birthday?” your friend suggested, gently poking your side with his elbow before he linked his arm with yours and pulled you along to another corner of the store, containing all the snacks.

“maybe...” you looked around, spotting a few favourites, but decided against getting any, “or maybe i could start saving money.”

“you can try.” your friend said as he waved a pack of chocolate oreos in front of you, “but you’ll fail.”

you reached out but before you could grab it, aaron pulled it back. you groaned slightly and slid your hands in the pockets of your shorts, “i don’t like you.”

aaron chuckled, “come on, i’ll get you strawberry ice-cream.” you smiled at that and followed him.

after dinner you’d left a text on the group chat, ensuring if all your friends were coming to college the next day. it was the last year of college and before you were off looking for jobs and ultimately planning your whole lives, you wanted to spend some quality time with your best friends without any worries.

you’d gotten into a heated argument with your friend tobias over the best marvel character and while you’d sided with spidey, he was vouching for wanda, saying she’d defeat him in the wink of an eye– adding along the fact that she was also the hottest character. you rolled your eyes at his obvious comment before putting down your phone and turning over to sleep.

the next day you woke up, you had a splitting headache, even worse than the time you got drunk at the sleepover in zoe’s house when her parents were out of town. you drank plenty of water before getting out of bed. noticing that you were late, you rushed to get ready and rushed out of your apartment, ignoring your mom’s voice scolding you for never appreciating the food she cooks for you.

two blocks away and aaron joined you.

you couldn’t help but notice his appearance. he looked different. his physical appearance hadn’t changed but the way he dressed today was certainly different. the colourful beaded bracelets he usually wore were gone and his simple, monochrome t-shirt did not spell aaron.

you tried to ignore it but it gnawed at the back of your mind.

the two of you walked towards the nearest subway as you complained about your mom always being too uptight. you sighed, “i was right about wanting to save money, i don’t think she’d want to spend money on a stupid shirt.”

aaron looked at you confused, ��what do you mean?” you frowned.

“um... the spidey shirt?” he looked clueless.

before you could figure out what was happening here, police sirens, followed by people screaming, raised your ears. you turned around to see a black sedan turning the corner haphazardly, followed by a police car. your eyes widened as you pulled aaron by the arm, taking a few steps back on the sidewalk.

“we should go.” aaron said, dragging you along as he rushed past the scene but the second you turned your head back to glance what was going on, you caught the sight of a certain superhero and your mouth gaped.

spider-man was standing between the car and the road, a foot on the hood of the car due to which the rear wheels lifted off the ground. he was surrounded by camera flashes. you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d held in.

aaron shook your shoulders and your head snapped back to him, he pushed your jaw closed and mumbled the same words as before. how was he not freaked out right now?

you ran with him until the two of you were in the subway and mounting the train that would lead the two of you to your college. you panted, doubling over to catch your breath, “what the... heck... was that?!”

aaron shrugged, “the usual, you know?”

you eyed him as if he’d pushed a toddler for a candy, “what the fuck in freaky friday-”

“you’re acting strangely.” your friend chuckled but you could hear the concern in his voice.

“yeah? well, why aren’t you?!” you cleared your throat and straightened up, looking at the heads turning towards you. the amount of people in the train at this hour didn’t seem uncanny but something felt off to you– the elephant in the room being spider-man himself.

aaron placed a hand on your shoulder, “are you sure you’re okay? after last week’s incident, i’d understand if you wanted to take another day off...”

you’d just opened your mouth to question that but before you could, you had to deboard the train.

you didn’t question anything else throughout the day. it didn’t seem fruitful. everytime you tried, your friends would start acting strange and avoid your questions about the last week, especially zoe. she avoided your eyes as she tucked her chestnut hair behind her ear. just like she would do everytime she was anxious about something.

you returned back to your place pretty soon after school got over. you excused yourself from your friends, saying you had some work but you’d gone straight home. the apartment was silent when you reached. your mom must’ve been asleep– and you didn’t have the will to heat up anything that she must’ve left in the casserole.

you left your bag in your room and quickly exited the building, walking towards your favourite deli just a few blocks away. you hummed the song that was playing through your earbuds as you walked inside the store and asked for your regular sub– taking an orange juice box along with it.

when you were walking back from the deli, you heard an old lady yell, a few feet behind you. when you turned your head, a guy shoved past you, making the stuff in your hands drop down to the sidewalk. you yelled at the man to look where he was going but he only gave you a side glance– the cold stare, even though it lasted a second, sent a chill down your spine.

the next time you turned around to get your stuff up, you saw a blue and red blur swinging towards you. you shrieked and put your hands up but when you sensed no impact, you peeked through your fingers only to see spider-man, standing in front of you in his glorious spandex suit. he picked up the paper bag with your sub and the juice box, handing them over to you, “you gotta stop running into trouble, miss.” he chuckled, in a hurry, his eyes focused behind your shoulder, “gotta go, an old lady needs her bag!”

and that was it.

your first encounter with spider-man.

you didn’t know how you broke out of your trance or when you reached the park bench– at least your sandwich was saved.

you’d just taken the first bite of it when someone cleared their throat behind you. you looked over your shoulder, choking slightly when you saw him again. his suit eyes widened and he hurried to hand you the juice box kept on the bench.

when you took that, he made that his queue to sit down beside you on the bench. this time around, not many people gathered around as in the morning– as if no one cared that spider-man was casually hanging around the park.

“um...” you started awkwardly, “is this a prank? like okay the car thing in the morning was really cool. did tobias put you up to that? he’s like that.” you sighed.

“what?” you heard spider-man mumble as his mask shifted.

“that’s a very good costume too, which spider-man inspired it?” you asked, trying to make sense of everything that you’d encountered today.

“which...?” the right eye on his suit shrinked in confusion.

“seriously, it’s not funny.” you laughed

“then why are you laughing?” spider-man blinked.

you blinked back as a response, “who are you?”

“i’m spider-man.”

you scoffed, “sure, and i’m john cena.”

“well, you don’t look it, but i am actually spider-man.” he said, sighing, “look, i was just here to make sure you’re okay-”

“there’s no way you’re him.” you gave him a challenging look.

spider-man sighed again.

he pointed his hand towards your juice box and in an instant a string of web attached to it. he pulled it towards himself before tossing it into the trash can.

you looked at him in disbelief.

“believe me now?”

“...i was having that juice.”

spider-man rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “sorry- i’ll get you a new one?” he offered.

“it’s fine.” you shook your head, “you can’t actually be peter parker.”

“how did you- how would you-” you could see his mouth fall agape through the fabric of his mask. he dodged your hand as you reached out for the hem of it, “hey!”

“let me see!”

he got up and you followed.

“look, you’re a weird lady and i don’t know how you know my name-” his voice dropped to a whisper, “my identity! but... don’t tell anyone.”

“are you like, tom holland?”

“who?”

“or andrew garfield... he’s dreamy.”

“i don’t think i’m-”

“or are you tobey, or-”

“who are these people you’re naming?!”

“they’re like... famous people” you shrugged, “now will you let me see?”

spider-man again took a step back, “no! why should i?”

“listen... today has been one of the craziest- not even one of the, today is the craziest day of my life! i don’t even understand where i am or what is going on with my friends or how i-”

“look, i saved you last week from a goon, and that’s how i remember you but i don’t know how you know me!”

“through comics... and movies.”

“yeah, but they don’t tell people my identity!” he protested, “did felicia somehow-”

“no. no, no, no. i... this is crazy but, i’m... not from this earth.”

spider-man’s eyes widened, “oh.”

“in fact i’m from a place where spider-man only exists in movies and... that’s you.”

“oh, well, that’s not me. i’m not really the showbiz kinda guy, if you catch my drift” he threw a finger gun at you.

you crossed your arms and he chuckled awkwardly, “see that’s why i wanna see your face.”

“see, the purpose of the mask-”

“i know you’re pete-!” before you could finish the sentence, a hand was covering your mouth. your eyes widened slightly as you looked at the robotic spider-man eyes. if you focused enough, you could make out the outline of his features through his mask due to the proximity.

he backed up when he realised, clearing his throat, “s-sorry...”

“y/n.”

“y/n.” he mumbled, “sorry about that.”

“look, i... may need your help.”

“i don’t really know any good psychiatrists, may i refer you to my friend, yuri-”

“excuse me, i’m completely fine.” you rolled your eyes and peter couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

“my bad. but how exactly would you need my help...? i don’t know anything about... travelling to another earth.”

you felt your head gears turning as you looked into his eyes l, “well, do you have any guy named fisk?”

“willy? yeah, i mean... he’s in prison now.” he shrugged, “i don’t see how he could be behind all this...”

“oh, spidey.” you sighed, “we have a great deal to talk about.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[periprose]

Heyyy I’m literally playing through ps4 Spider-Man again 🤣!

I was wondering if I could request a ps4 fic, maybe Peter and reader have been dating for a while, and she gets hurt during the explosion and he can’t find her but she’s with may at feast with like a broken arm or something?? (She knows he’s Spider-Man) 👀🫶🏼

hey lol thanks for requesting! I'm on the first playthrough of the game myself. Basically this is set during the explosion at the election event in the game, and Peter and you are there to proudly watch Officer Davis accept his award.

/

"Hey." Peter comes up from behind you on the sidewalk, fixing wrinkles in his civilian clothes. He must've just changed.

"Hey, Parker." You nudge him. "Ready to go watch Osborn smooch up to the well-meaning audience of Manhattan?"

"Well, ready as I'll ever be." Peter takes your hand. "I'm really just there to watch Davis get his well-deserving award, y'know. Hey, didn't I tell you to stop calling me Parker?"

"Meh, you love it." You joke. "You'll always be Parker to me, even if you are my boyfriend now. It's our thing."

Peter shakes his head, but you know based on his little smile- he loves that you have a little thing just for him.

Together, you walk to the intersection in front of City Hall, where many people crowd around, waiting for Mayor Osborn and whatever speech he's about to give today. They're all dressed in Osborn themed merchandise, cheering and clapping.

You can't believe this many people care about Osborn's so-called promises to the city- you and Peter are really hoping he won't be re-elected this term after all- but people are clapping for him, and you sigh knowing that your cost of living is about to go up.

"Hey. Wipe that frown off your face. We're here to be supportive." Peter whispers from next to you in the crowd, and you nod.

"Where's Davis? Is that him?" You whisper back, pointing to an older black man up on the stage.

"Yup. You wouldn't believe it, he was so helpful in Hell's Kitchen. Dude whipped out his gun and had my back like we've been best buds for years." Peter smiles. "There's not many out there doing it like him."

"He sounds like a real treasure. I'm glad you have someone on your side." You squeeze Peter's hand, and continue to look up towards the stage in mild excitement.

You don't really care for Osborn's speech- Peter laughs about his promise to open up technology for NYC when you both know that's reserved for the elite- but you both grin when Davis, looking nervous as ever, walks up the stage to receive his award.

"It is my privilege to present Officer Jefferson Davis with the Department Medal of Honour." Osborn hangs a medal around Davis' neck, and you and Peter clap.

"I'm so glad this is all over. The gang war, I think." Peter whispers to you, and you raise your eyebrows.

"Really? Does this mean you'll finally be a little safer?" You ask, but Peter frowns a little.

"Well, there's some loose ends still to be tied up, but-"

"Loose ends?" You give him a wary glance. "Like what?"

"Like whatever 'Consolidated Shipping' is. It doesn't make sense." Peter sighs, watching concern grow on your face. "It's not right, but I'll figure it out."

Davis says a few words- he thanks his wife and his son, Miles, who you can see is sitting up at the front of the stage.

"Aw, cute kid." You remark to Peter, and he nods, gaining a slightly sheepish smile.

"Officer Davis did say I remind him of his son. I'll take it as a compliment." Peter jokes, and you snicker, calling him even more of a baby.

Behind you, Sable guards are talking on their walkie talkies about "keeping eyes on Osborn," which to you sounds as if they perceive a threat. You turn back to tell Peter, when he suddenly flinches.

"Peter-?"

He grabs his head, panicking- you watch as his pupils dilate, and he's clearly in some kind of shock.

"Everything feels off-" Peter flinches again, and you know he's having a Spider-Sense meltdown. There must be multiple things happening at once- even worse, you're not sure what he's supposed to do in this situation. He's not suited up, and he risks revealing his identity if he does anything.

Either way, Peter runs behind you. He shoves people out of the way, trying to get to the back of the event, behind the audience, but he's not fast enough. There are men arriving out of cars- corrupted men, turning that strange grey-blue-transparent hue that confirms their connection with Martin Li.

Peter runs- he dashes- but you see him flinch again, cowering under such threatening energy. He turns to the stage in horror, and you gasp in shock.

There's another corrupted on stage, covered in explosive devices.

An explosion goes off behind you, to the right of you, than another massive one on stage- the ground shakes beneath you, and you're too in shock to move.

"Get down!" Peter shoves you back, attempting to push you out of the way, just as another two explosions cause the earth under you to rattle, and you lose your footing and fall back on the pavement. You twist your arm unnaturally and hit your head.

You black out, the last thing you see being massive blue-black explosions in the sky.

/

Peter wakes to floating ash in the sky.

He coughs- there's a sharp pain in his right side, and a slight ache at the top of his hairline- he touches his forehead and pulls his fingers away to see brown-red, dry blood.

It doesn't matter. He'll heal faster than most, anyways- he needs to locate you.

He gets up, seizes a little due to the pain- and to his alarm, you're nowhere in his near sight. He walks around seeing Sable guards help people off the streets- although Peter really thinks they're poking and prodding and shoving them away, so they can clean up the mess around here.

He hopes you haven't been taken away by Sable guards.

Peter rushes to the nearest clinic- but there's too many people crowding around there with their injuries, and the receptionist at the emergency room tells him there's no one by your name here.

He begins to panic. You're not responding to his calls, either. Peter doesn't want to believe the worst could've happened to you, but he does hear people talking on the streets about the casualties. Apparently at least 10 people have been found dead so far- Peter starts swearing under his breath.

He decides to head to FEAST- he's not sure if you'll be there, but it's better to ask Aunt May or some of the volunteers if you've been seen. FEAST also operates as an emergency medical clinic, too, even with limited supplies, and it's with this small amount of hope that Peter travels there.

Pushing through the doors, the front desk woman- Amanda- she's startled by how intensely Peter asks about you.

"I don't know, Peter." She points to the main auditorium, where many homeless and injured people are currently being attended to. "It's kind of an open house back here- you're going to have to look through the crowds."

Peter sighs. "Thanks, Amanda."

It takes him about fifteen minutes to do a full, quick walkthrough. The entire time, his heartbeat thumps faster as he realizes- he's not seeing you anywhere. There's nobody wearing your trademark scarf, your usual dark blue jeans- nobody with your fastidious expression, where you always seem to take in the entire world before speaking- nobody to relieve the steady ache in his heart.

Peter walks into the room full of medical supplies, expecting to see Aunt May- and while May is there, busy with another volunteer, the first thing he sees is you, with your hair all disheveled and messy, bruises on your cheek and a cut under your lip, and your arm wrapped in a cast and a sling.

But you have a soft, comforting smile. You're kneeling down to help a little girl- she can't be older than five- and you're placing a bandage on her knee. And the little girl squeals, hugging you after you say "It's all better now."

Peter would agree with that.

You look up, arms still embraced around the little girl- Rina is her name- to see Peter, looking wistful, sad, a clear lump in his throat. His eyes are watery.

"Peter?" You watch as he comes forward.

"I thought you were- I thought..." He wipes his eyes. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Well, Little Rina over here needed a little bit of medical attention." You kindly tap her shoulder and she nods up at Peter, smiling. "She tripped and fell and no one was paying attention to her knee, so I decided to help her."

"That's..." Peter trails off, wondering how you could be so selfless when your own face was looking a bit worse for wear. "That's sweet of you to do. How do you feel, kiddo?"

He kneels towards her, and she grins really big. "Better!"

"Alright, high five then." Peter high fives her, and she dashes off afterwards, most likely looking for the parent she came with.

"Why didn't you respond to my calls?" Peter asks you as soon as you turn back to him. "I thought... I thought the worst had happened-"

"Peter, please. Stop with the wounded ego." May calls him out, listening from the sidelines. "What's important is that she's safe and in one piece- that's more than enough to feel grateful about."

Peter looks down, ashamed. He knows May is right, and he has to swallow his pride for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Peter." You grasp his hand, and he looks back at you, jaw tight as he listens. "I didn't mean to not answer your calls- my phone got shattered. And I didn't know where to find you after I woke up- I was already being taken away by Sable guards to 'safety' and then I decided my best chance to find you was over here."

"Oh." Peter feels kind of dumb, but he also feels glad you think of FEAST as a spot to find him. "I should've kept you safe."

"Don't. Don't make yourself crazy with what you could've done." You plead with him, and he sighs but shakes his head. "My arm will heal with time. I guess I landed on it weirdly and broke it."

Peter winces. "Well, you can always ask me for help if it bothers you. I'm there for you."

He traces your lip, where the cut under is still a red-brown, harsh hue in comparison to the pink of your bottom lip, and May takes this as her cue to leave.

Peter snorts. "I wish you had my-"

"Super healing? Yeah, I wish that too." You laugh. "Were you lucky enough to not get hit, or did you just heal on the way here?"

Peter's reaching for a facial bandage and some rubbing alcohol. "The latter."

"Ugh, lucky bastard." You smile up at him, cringing only slightly as Peter rubs away the blood from your wound. "I'm just glad that means I don't have to worry too much about you."

"You still do." Peter remarks, placing the bandage on your face. "But that just means you love me."

And, being ever so thankful that you're safely back in his arms, Peter places a soft kiss on your forehead, and then a slightly-less-soft one on your mouth, hoping it doesn't hurt you, but happy that you kiss him back anyways.

[hanasnx]

About Peter in "closure"... He is soooo pathetic. I love him.

Do you think he's the kind of guy who suggests dating after dirty sex, even though you've already rejected him many times? I get the vibe that every time you call him he thinks something 'changed' in your feelings

— source.

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: anon this shit got me biting my lip.

"I'd be a lot more accessible if we were, you know, dating." PETER PARKER's suggestion catches you off guard, exchanging a glance with him while he adjusts the hemlines of his suit. After your brief love-making you'd think he couldn't wait to get back out there, save the neighborhood or whatever. Your reticence is alarming, and he has to fill the silence, "It can be about more than just the sex."

You scoff. "Thought we've been over this, Spidey," You fix up the disheveled state of your room after he threw you around. "Besides, I doubt I can share you with the entire city of Manhattan." you joke, more to yourself than to him.

"Is that what stops you?"

You face him, and see he's approached the window, a steady hand bracing on the wall. "C'mon." you reason, slacking in place with books in your hand that were knocked from your nightstand. "Don't be like that."

"Be like what?" he asks indignantly, and you recognize his tense stance, the crease in his mask, his feigned ignorant tone.

You tilt your head at him with an exasperated sigh. "If you're gonna do this every time I call you, then maybe you can't handle it."

"Yeah, maybe I can't."

He's baiting you, playing a martyr to dramatize it and get you to see what you're about to lose. It's familiar. "Alright. Maybe don't come over next time I call."

"Maybe don't call."

Your jaw rolls, a thrill setting in your stomach. There's something hopelessly alluring about him when he gets like this. Pathetic and wanting, throwing a tantrum— in his own little way— to get you to understand his side of things. You idle. Throw your books onto the bed with a bounce. Leisurely, you saunter towards him, gaze set on his feet. You hum pensively to yourself, "'Don't call.'" you muse, parroting his words as if you're mulling them over, generously scanning his suit-clad form. You come to a stop in front of him, and he's made no move to exit. "Not even when I... need you?"

He considers it, and firmly responds, "Well, if it's an emergency..." he trails off, clearly referring to life-or-death situations, as Spider-Man is often confronted with.

"Oh, it's always an emergency." you correct him, your voice lowering to a sultry level as you fidget with the texture of his uniform.

"Not-" He pivots his head at the innuendo, narrowing his eyes. "Not that kind of emergency."

You close in. "Not even when I can't get myself off? When my fingers aren't enough? C'mon, Spidey, s'not fair. You know I have small fingers." you plead, heightening your pitch to convey a desperation as you clamber for his attention. Pressing yourself to him, draping over him. You can feel his resolve melting. "Thought you were all about helping a girl in need."