#stares at u with spider-man eyes

[pervysenpaix]

What abt Piercer!Katsuki who sees that ur nips aren't hard enough so he helps u out by playing with them which turns into him sucking on them and his hand rubbing ur clit through ur underwear. And we cant forget Piercer!Kiri who has to thank you for distracting Katsuki for him because he was late. Thats how you end up between both men, legs and holes spread being fucked stupid.

A/N: i- I this took a turn. It's slightly different from what you requested and a little longer than expected but hey "When in Rome" right? I realized how long it was starting to get so I condensed the ending a bit. I hope you like it.

tw! dubcon ? [ i don't think so but it's questionable so just to be safe] , degrading , dumbification, mentions of blood (piercing), nipple play, spit-roasting, established KRBK, aged up characters

18+ NSFW Content| MDNI

It was almost comical how sweet you looked sitting in the 90's grunge inspired lobby of HotRocks! Tattoo & Piercing Parlor, a joint venture between high school friends. Looking oh so cute in the in the oversized sweater that was tucked into a pleated pink skirt. Thigh-highs forming indentions on your skin, making the fat bulge to the top in an oh-so appetizing manner. Bakugo had to bite his lip to refrain from commenting on how cute you were. Didn't want to scare you off when Kirishima spent so much time reeling you in and getting you comfortable during your consultation. Ensuring that your first time would be virtually painless. His needle would be in and out and the only indication that he'd ever been there would be a trickle of blood and a shiny set of balls adorned to your skin.

Bakugo remembers just how wide your eyes got as the innuendo settled. Pulling at the hem of your skirt and trying to look anywhere but the two sets of red visionaries, one vermillion and one crimson, locked on your face.

"Hey, if it's any consolation, I think you'd look so cute with those little nips pierced". Heat flooded your cheeks, nodding dumbly as you signed all the consent forms and scheduled your appointment for the following week.

Now, you're here. All alone in this quiet shop with a man who hasn't said a word since you arrived, but won't stop staring at you.

"i-is Kirishima gonna be here soon?" His ears perked at the sound of your voice. Soft and sweet, just like your pretty face. and probably your pussy. The blonde shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he rounded the counter. "Fucker's probably still sleepin' after the poundin' I gave 'em last night". His brazenness had you coughing, chocking on your own spit. The blonde quirked a brow, leaning in and dropping a heavy hand on your back while barking a harsh , "you good?" As if he didn't just casually mention his sexual ventures to a stranger.

He lingered in your space a bit longer than necessary. Cologne a heady mixture of caramel and sandalwood. It was dizzying paired with the way his fiery orbs held you.

"Sure you're okay, Princess? Don't need 'ya passing out when you get poked".

Your little gasp shouldn't have signaled his cock to twitch in his jeans but it did. The thought of other sounds he'd hear if toyed with your stupid little twat.

"Want me to do 'ya ?" Another gasp suggested that your mind had also been wandering. "Huh?!" you squeaked, swallowing thickly as you drunk in the sight of him. A 6'5 ash blonde god , chiseled body decorated with beautiful patterns of black ink. More than a few piercings adorned his face. Spider bites on the left side of his bottom lip. A silver hoop through his nostril. Several piercings on his ears, but the kicker was the shiny red tongue ring that he played with absentmindedly. Rolling it in out of his mouth. It was distracting..

"m'not Kirishima, he's better with first-timers, but you'll be ok, huh? not a crybaby, are ya ?" he sneered, pinching the fat of your cheeks.

A shameful tingle danced in your nether regions from his condescending tone. The nerve of him being so mean, but you were determined to prove him wrong. Blinking away the tears that were already forming from his harsh grip on your face.

"I can take it" you pouted, eyeing him defiantly but confidence waning when he leaned closer smirking.

"I'll be the judge of that."

You sat stiffly on the table as Bakugo stood with his back to you, silently sterilizing his equipment and popping on black gloves in surgical fashion.

"Alright" he sighed, turning towards you and leaning against the table, "Let's see what ya got." Offering no further explanation other than an upward motion with two fingers pointed in your direction.

He must mean-

"Show me your tits, Princess" An eyeroll but he was anything but annoyed. You were so cute and innocent, looking up at him with big doe eyes and a wobbly lip. What even convinced you to go through with this in the first place ? "Need help?"

Big, scarred hands were sliding underneath the large sweatshirt before you even had time to respond. Fingers grazing over your skin as he removed the material. You hadn't bothered with a bra, knowing you'd be sore after. Hence the oversized sweater.

Now, you were bare chested, wearing nothing but a skimpy skirt and thigh highs. It was like something out of a porno. Especially with you trying to cover your breasts from his burning gaze. "Tch, c'mon now. None of that". His hands circled your wrists and pulled them down to your side.

"Not bad" he muses, inwardly groaning at the sight of your pebbling brown nipples. His hands slowly trail up your arms, over your shoulders and down to palm your breasts. Large hands covering them entirely. "Gonna get 'em nice and hard for me. That okay, Princess ?" Your cunt throbbed every time he said the pet name in that perfect condescending manner. Talking down to you so sweetly, like you were the dumbest and cutest thing in the world.

"'S'okay, Bakugo" His name sounded heavenly on your lips. As a reward, he brought the pads of his thumb to your darkened areolas and began rubbing tight circles. You looked absolutely adorable with your brows scrunched in concentration while biting your lip to fight the urge to moan. It felt so nice, the way he was working you over and when he pinched your nub between fingers you couldn't help but whimper.

"Good girrrll-" he drawled, slotting closer between your legs. He could feel the heat from your core against his stomach. Damp material making a mess of his band tee. "Don't be embarrassed. Keep makin' them pretty sounds for me. Feels good, yeah?"

"Y-yeah" you mewled, tongue darting out to wet your plump lips. It was hard to tell which ones were more enticing. The glossy ones pulled into a pout as he tweaked your nipples or the ones that'd swallowed your thong and were currently drooling against his abs.

Why not have both ?

The blondes lips smashed against yours just as his hand snaked between your thighs. He pulled the material hard against your clit, side to side, as he licked into your mouth and massaged your tongue. Even though you were shocked and startled you didn't pull away. Actually wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer.

"Good fuckin' girl" His head fell to your shoulder. Sucking bruises onto your throat and collarbone before taking your bud into his mouth. You flinched when you felt the first vibrations of his tongue ring but quickly succumbed to the pleasure. Lewd moans so loud that you'd failed to notice the jingle of keys and soft chuckling.

"Nice of you to get her prepped for me, Bakubabe".

Your eyes fluttered open to take in the site of the massive, 6'7', Kirishima snapping on a pair of black gloves. Long hair pulled up in a high, messy bun that left ruby strands framing his tanned face. Wearing a skimpy Crimson Riot tank top with the sides cut and ripped black jeans. Like his blonde boyfriend his body was littered with tattoos, some dark and ominous, others brightly colored and bold. Perhaps an ode to his multifaceted personality. He also had most of the same piercings with he addition of a golden hoop over his scarred brow and shark bites in contrast to Bakugo's snakes.

He looked absolutely sinful and the dangerous grin he wore had you clenching your thighs around the blonde.

"Took ya long enough, dumbass. Thought I was gonna break her in" Spit soaked lips brushing your peaks with each word. "No way, man" the redhead beamed, "I've been thinkin' about popping her cherry for days". A pleasurable tingle shot down to your cunt making you squeeze his waist tighter. "Fuck you're a needy little thing aren't ya?" You whimpered, equal parts embarrassed and aroused, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

"Fuuuck-- she's cute" Kirishima groaned, adjusting the tent in his pants. He was hoping that your session would've ended like this but he never expected Bakugo to take the initiative. Good for him. He approached, standing shoulder to shoulder with the snarky blonde that was pinching your nipples. "Eyes on me, babygirl" your head lifted immediately, and your obedience only added to their growing arousal. "Alright, sweetheart. I'm gonna stick you now and it's gonna hurt for a bit , but I promise I'll make you feel real good after. Sound good?" You nodded, giving him a shy smile that he returned with his signature grin.

"Good girl".

Words couldn't describe how beautiful you looked as the two men fucked into you. Tears falling from your rolled back eyes and drool spilled from the sides of your mouth while Kirishima shoved his length into your heat. Running his big hands over your throat to rest against the bulge and pressing down to add more pressure on his cock. You could barely breathe and the blonde's explosive thrusts that slammed your body forward didn't help. Groping at the fat of your breasts, far enought to not upset the piercing, but just close enough that it brought a confusing mix of pain and pleasure. Your pussy squelched obscenely, wetness dripping from your sopping core onto the table. "Such a messy girl" Kirishima cooed, "Should make you lick that up". A low groan rumbled from Katsuki's chest , "sh-shit fuck! squeezin' me so tight. you like that, huh ? nasty little bitch". It could've been his words, the sloppy thrusting, the fingers pinching your clit, Eijiro squeezing your throat or maybe a combination of it all, but something had you screaming as best you could with a cock down your throat, and squirting all over the blonde. They both spilled inside you, thick sticky ribbons of white that painted your insides. Breathless and exchanging silent grins as they looked down at your fucked out state. Probably couldn't remember your own name at this point. Which was fine for them, all you needed to think about was getting you cute little cunt split for a second time. And maybe your ass too.

@xogabbiexo, @yo-nn, @bookwormsenpai, @plussizeficchick, @38riku, @7inaa, @simpliheavenli, @blkchxrryblyss, @nasty-quillz, @namjoonswifeyy, @tenyaiidasslut @presidentmonica , @hhawkz

[peterthepark]

streets

pairing: tasm!peter parker x black cat!reader

summary: peter parker has had enough dealing with strays like you, the black cat. when he shows up to your hideout uninvited, he tries to correct your behavior - yet peter finds himself falling for your tricks, and can’t help but give in to your sweet claws.

tags: pure nsfw filth, graphic 18+ smut, oral sex (m receiving and f receiving), fingering, witty banter, degrading, anger issues, blood and mentions of wounds from fighting, choking, lots of sexual tension, no protection but wrap it before u tap it

note: enjoy my first peter smut! probably did not edit this, so forgive any typos! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 mwah! (based off of doja cat’s “streets”) this is literally pure sin and i hope u love it!!

Rain patters against the thick garage door, thunder booming from the outside of a dark New York night. Peter’s fingers trail down the edge of a cold, metal table. He feels the coolness through the material of his Spider-Man suit, and it’s enough to make him uneasy. Though, the contents atop of the table is what sends a shiver down his spine, and his hands hover over quite personal pictures of you, the Black Cat.

Peter knew you by the alias Felicia Hardy, but it didn’t take much for him to figure out you were straight bluffing. He figured out your name through your own disclosure, when he personally revealed himself to you after you begrudgingly helped him in stopping a bank heist. You, of course, had gotten a couple money clips and jewels out if it. (Peter didn’t know that, but he had suspected something of the sorts). He was drawn to you in the same manner you were to him. Occasionally, you would be of assistance to him, but those times were rare. Peter viewed you as a thief, and you were a nuisance to the city.

Perhaps, he saw you as a threat or a challenge.

On the other hand, you saw Peter as someone to conquer. He had secrets that you wanted to uncover, but you committed crimes that he couldn’t just let slide because of your history.

His cheeks flush as he sifts through the collection of the grainy photographs - you were barely dressed in any of them. Was there ever a time Peter hadn’t seen you out of that stupid - but fucking hot - latex suit? His body grows warmer as he pauses at the final picture, mouth agape. This was inappropriate, an invasion of your privacy. He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t have snuck in. He felt almost dirty staring, no, memorizing it. You were wearing nothing but a see-through red lace set - a Spider-Man bandage covering the small gash on your upper thigh and the split skin on your cheekbone. His fingers traced the outline of the cobweb pasties beneath your bra.

His eyes flicker to the bounce of light across the room, and the soft scuffle of boots against the concrete floor. The hairs on his body stand up as imminent danger fills his senses, and he turns in time to see a shadow sitting in the dark.

“You can stare all you want, Spidey...” The room illuminates with a dark red light as you turn on the spotlight beside you. Peter drops the picture, letting it land at his foot as he looks at you straddling the arm of a jeweled, velvet throne. God, that voice. You smirk at him with painted lips, mask nowhere to be seen. You were baring yourself to him. “But the real deal is right here.” His breath hitches, and you notice. “Hello, Peter.”

You shift your weight on your hands, leaning forward on the armrest. Peter clenches his jaw, fighting off the urge to look at the curvature of your hips and the way you sat so perfectly on the furniture.

“Y/N, what the hell are you up to?”

There’s distance between your two bodies. Peter looks as if he’s unsure in leaving his place by the table, letting his arms rest by his sides as he remains in a defensive stance.

“I’m up to no good.” You mewl with a pout, nails following down the seam of your outer thigh. “Are you here to punish me?”

“What the fuck are you thinking… pulling off a robbery like that?” He growls angrily. You see it in the curl of his lip, the snarl of his mouth, the way he grinds his teeth together. “You’re stupid, Y/N. You don’t think, ever! I told you specifically not to mess with Kingpin…”

You interrupt him, and your façade breaks for a second.“Oh, fuck off, Peter.” The brunette is caught off guard, and he carefully studies the way you break eye contact.

“I told you if you’re gonna take him down, you’re not doing it alone.” He scolds, wagging a pointed finger at you. Peter’s words clash together as he hurriedly speaks, almost as if he weren’t able to say everything in one sentence, you wouldn’t hear him. “You never fucking listen, Y/N. I don’t know why I even trusted you to begin with. You’re a criminal. This is so below me.”

“The Black Cat is never to be trusted.” You say calmly now, sliding off the armrest as you stand across from Peter. “And yet here you are,” You coo as you approach him slowly. He doesn’t level his stare at you, and you look up at the spider through innocent lashes. Your knuckles ghost over the dried blood on his cheek, “…coming back for more.”

He swats your hand away in a flash, pinning it over your head as he roughly backs you up against the scrap metal garage door with long strides. Your head and back hits it with a loud bang, and you let out a pained groan from the harsh contact. Peter’s eyes bore into you like daggers, searching your face for remorse. He’s breathing heavily, hand still gripping tightly around your pinned wrist and the other digging into your abdomen. You make use of your opposite hand - the one that’s free - and claw down the side of his face with a grunt, throwing him against the door as well. He clutches the right side of his body as the gashes on his face reopen.

“Don’t fight me, Peter.” You close the distance between you two, standing behind him while his back faces you. The whisper of your voice tickles his ear, and he wonders what it would be like to hear you plead his name. You place a kiss on his wounded shoulder, “You know I’ll win, hm?”

“I hate you. You don’t understand how badly I wanna…”

He looks down, balling his hands into fists with a defeated sigh. Peter turns to face you. There’s a slight difference in his posture, and he’s slumped over in pain. Blood trickles down the side of his jaw, and you mindlessly reach out to wipe it. Peter winces, catching your thumb before you pull away. He studies the blood-covered digit, how the dark liquid shines on your latex glove. Peter’s lips part as he takes your thumb into his mouth, sucking the blood off of it.

You hold back a moan, never tearing away from his intense glare. You nearly whine when your finger leaves the warmth of his tongue, and he lets it go lazily.

“Who were those photos for?” He asks you with an accusatory tone.

“For myself.”

The front of his webbed suit rubs against your chest. “No, I don’t believe you. Try that again, Y/N.”

“For you.” You whisper longingly, eyes blown with lust. Peter shudders.

“You’re filthy for that.” Peter’s moral compass turns sour, and he forgets what he’s here for when he sees you rub your thighs together. Without thought, he reaches over your collarbone, pushing your hair away from your face. “Filthy girl.”

You chuckle cockily, humming in approval as Peter’s bloodied fingers trail down your neck. They wrap around your throat like they were meant to be there from the beginning. Your smile grows wider, and Peter draws you close to his body.

“Guess you aren’t such a good guy after all, Spidey.” You remark, fighting off a grin as a provoked Peter shoves you against the metal table. He has you turned around in his grasp, so that your back is to him and your ass is pressed up against his dick. He bends you over just enough, and his other hand grabs a fistful of your hair.

“Look at those fucking pictures.” He holds you, so that you have no choice to admire the self-portraits littered about. “All for me? Is that right?”

“Yes,” You gulp, breathless. “All the times you caught me stealing… and sent me home with nothing… I couldn’t help but think about you and what you could do to me.” You submit for now, knowing you weren’t in a position to undermine Peter’s strength. But you let the back of your heel follow up Peter’s thigh, just above his knee to tease him. He groans audibly, and you take that moment of vulnerability to press up against him harder.

“God, you’re fucking…” Peter hisses, unable to resist your sweet voice and the way you sounded so desperate for him. He kisses the underside of your jaw, peppering them across your body till he turns you and kisses you roughly on the lips.

“I thought about you, taking me in handcuffs.” You say between kisses. “I thought about you fucking me in that museum. In a police car. In the alleyway where we first fought. In the bed of my apartment.” Peter whines loudly, his lips messily searching for yours. He’s hard at the thought of you just even thinking of him that way. You fantasized him, the way he did to you. “I think about you fucking me now.”

“If I don’t? Are you gonna beg, Y/N?” Peter reaches for the zipper of your suit, toying with it. “Beg for it.”

“No, I don’t beg.” You growl, leading him by his arm. He follows, surprisingly. And he’s in awe as you push him onto your (stolen) velvet throne to straddle him. “But you, Peter, you’ll beg.” You take his hands into yours, guiding them down your breasts, your stomach, your thighs, till you lead them back to the zipper of the latex suit.

Peter doesn’t wait any longer, pulling it down the tracks without care. It breaks, and Peter pushes the suit down your front hastily. “Oops,” He whispers against your flesh, nursing a mark on your neck. “Forgive me, Y/N.” His big hands cup your bare breasts, not even questioning your lack of a bra. He stares, lips wet and stained from your gloss.

He takes a nipple between his mouth, eyes flickering up at you for approval. You nod rapidly, cradling the back of his head as your jaw hung open in pleasure. Peter’s nails dig into the tenderness of your hips that you grind against him, earning a breathy moan from the hero.

“Oh, Peter…” You run your hands through his wild hair, tugging at the brown locks. “You’re so pretty like that. Fucking… god, I can feel you under me.”

Peter pulls away momentarily, attacking your lips once more. He tastes of saliva and blood. “I can’t get enough of you already. You’re gorgeous, and I’m so fucking hungry for you.” You feel his hips buck up into you, and you have to place your hands against his chest to calm him. He looks like he’s on the verge of tears, and you soothe him with kisses down his clothed chest.

You watch him intently as you slide onto your knees and slowly run your tongue down the spider logo on his sternum, pressing a gentle kiss to the black symbol. It’s enough to have him forget his name, and he throws his head back as he prays an ‘Oh, fuck’ into the thick air.

It was like you were tainting him, poisoning him, corrupting him… and he liked it.

He wouldn’t be able to look at the symbol the same ever again.

He reaches to unzip the honorable suit, and you make use of the time to get rid of yours as well. Peter’s in nothing but his underwear, and you admire the way his abs shine with sweat under the red light. Your black nails draw down the middle of his stomach, and your core warms at the sight of the hairs beneath his waistband. You tease, brushing over his clothed hard cock with a mocking moan.

“Please, Y/N.” He mumbles.

“Please what?” You rest your head against him, drawing hearts around his knee. “Do you wanna fuck me, Peter?” A pornographic moan slips from his body, and it takes everything in you not to give in immediately. “Do you wanna fuck my mouth?”

He nods, “Gonna watch you, make sure you take all of it.” There’s a constant back and forth of dominance between the two of you - was it a vigilante thing? You weren’t sure, but you were wet and you didn’t care.

“Are you sure you just don’t want me to shut up?”

“Oh, trust me. I’ll make you shut up.”

Peter’s pride grows extensively as he admires the adorned marks on your neck and chest. His.

He marked you, the Black Cat, once untamed and untouchable - yet now, he has you on your knees, his cock in your hands. You pull his underwear down, flinging it to the side in the darkness of the garage. Peter’s tip is a bright pink, dripping with precum. Your tongue follows the vein on the underside of his cock, a smile breaking out on your face as his moans spur you on.

“Such a pretty sight.” He comments, running a hand through your hair. His thumb strokes the back of your head, gently and softly. Peter looks like he’s afraid to hurt you, as if he hasn’t thrown you off buildings and kicked your ass before. He notices the fingerprints on your neck, and he remembers to be a little more careful with how he handles you. “Y/N… shit, that feels so good.”

You take note of how Peter’s hand envelopes your free one, interlocking your fingers together. It makes you feel safe, and you feel your face flush. You let your thumb press against the slit of his cock, before you shift to take him into your mouth. He marvels at the sensation, your hooded eyes gazing up at him as you bob your head up and down the shaft.

“I’ve… Y/N, I’ve fantasized about you, too.” He confesses, guiding your head down. He closes his eyes as you gag wonderfully around him, and he stops to recollect his thoughts. “I’ve imagined how your lips would feel against mine. How fucking amazing your body would look under that beautiful suit.” You take all of him, hand splaying against his thigh tightly. His voice lowers with a rasp. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you look without it? Fuck, Y/N, you - you do things to me. I wanna please you. I wanna make you cum. Christ, I can’t.”

Peter’s hips buck up once again, and he’s quick to pull you off before he has an early release. You send him a questioning look, and he shakes his head at you. “You keep going like that, I’ll cum all over you.”

“Aw, boo. Should’ve done it.” He pats the seat of the throne, scooting over to make room for you. “I would’ve savored every damn drop.”

You sit atop of the armrest, parting your legs for Peter. Somewhere along the blowjob, your panties had ended up on the floor. Your folds were wet with slick, nearly dripping down your inner thighs.

“Oh, Y/N, you’re so wet.” Peter croons, spreading your legs further apart as his tongue flicks up your clit. You jolt, suppressing the moan from your lips. Peter whispers against your mound as his eyes meet yours, fingers playing with your entrance. “Don’t go quiet on me now. I wanna hear you, angel.”

“Peter, please put your fingers inside me.” You moan with wanton, cupping your hand over your mouth as his middle finger curls into you. His tongue laps at your clit, and Peter watches you like a hawk.

He finds pleasure in your reaction - the arching of your back, the way you’d push yourself against his finger as if it wasn’t enough, the needy expression on your face. He adds another digit, his ring finger, and copies the ‘O’ shape of your mouth as he pushes against your g-spot.

“Feels good?” He asks, before he replaces his fingers with his tongue.

Peter Parker eating pussy was a sight for sore eyes. His jaw flexed as he tilted his head, angling his tongue better inside you. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, and it was hot to see someone so riled up by another person’s pleasure.

“Holy… fuck, I wanna come. Can I come?” You try to move his hand away from your clit, but he keeps circling, pulling you closer to the edge. “Peter, I’m gonna - shit, I love your mouth. I love it so much.”

You cry out of his frustration when his talented mouth leaves you, and you embarrassingly plead when his fingers fill you up once more. They pump in out of you, curling as the squelching of your juices echoed throughout the dim room. Peter’s wrist snaps in and out, and his fingers are buried to the hilt as your walls tighten around them.

“Mhm, go on. You’ve earned it. Cum, Y/N.” He praises you, and you gasp through chants of Peter’s name as you squirt all over his hand. He chuckles, awed by your capabilities. “You’re so perfect. My filthy, filthy fucking girl.”

You’re a mess by the time Peter takes you into his arms and positions you into the throne. He lays you onto your back, pushing your knees up to your chest. He quickly pumps his cock, hissing at the sensitivity in his tip.

“You’re okay?” He asks you, and you recognize the softness of Peter Parker in his hazy gaze.

“Yes. Fuck me.”

“Good.” He pushes himself into you, fully. Peter’s cock feels big, and it fills you up snugly. You clench around him, adjusting to the girth as he rubbed saliva against your clit. “We’re not done with each other yet.”

You moaned, out of pain and out of pleasure as he leaned over you. His right hand finds solace around your neck, while the other grips onto the curve of your ass. Peter’s hips snap at a slow antagonizing pace, and you fear that you’ll cum again before he’s gotten to properly fuck you.

“Peter, oh my god. It feels so good.” You stare into his warm eyes, hands scratching against the expanse of his wide back. The intimacy of seeing your dilated pupils, the quiver in your lip, the feeling of your throat gasping for freedom pushes him to go faster. His thrusts are messy, and he moans your name at the sight of cum dribbling down your ass.

“Y/N, I’m right there.” He manhandles you without difficulty, turning you so that your ass was in the air and your tits were pushed up against the velvet cushions. “Your pussy is so tight, like it was meant for me. And me, only.”

“Just for you. I’m yours for tonight.” You breathe out, squealing when Peter’s strong arms wrap around the front of your stomach so you were pressed upright against him. “I’ve dreamed of you being inside me.”

He fucks you harder, and you pull his head down to kiss at your neck. Peter bites down on your skin, moaning with cries of pleasure as your hips came to meet his.

“You’re mine always, Y/N.”

You cum at that. Peter has to steady you, forcing your eyes to stay open as he admires the lustful stars in your irises.

“Oh, god, Peter.” A tear falls down your cheek, and Peter kisses it into nothingness. “I’ve always wanted this. Always wanted you.”

He grunts, and the laziness of his hips give him away.

Peter cums inside you, and your thighs tremble at the new feeling of warmth and fullness within you. He falls forward, trapping you against the throne and his heaving chest.

“I want you, too.” He whispers, the sweat in his hair mixing with the sweat on your neck as his head drops to kiss your clavicle. Both of your heavy breaths fill the air, and Peter finds it hard to move away from you.

Was he guilty? Were you?

Hesitantly, you turn your head to look into his concerned eyes.

“Well, Spider-Man knows how to fuck.” You say, matter of factly.

He laughs at that, and you hiss when Peter slowly pulls out of you. Cum drips from between your legs, and Peter uses a nearby tissue to clean it. He gingerly wipes away any remnants from your body, even cleaning the bloodstains he had transferred onto you as a result of his wounds.

He’s tender. The gesture doesn’t go unnoticed.

“And Black Cat can be tamed.” He bites his lip, brushing the matted hair away from your face. You’re about to speak before he beats you to it, “Y/N…”

“Peter?”

The tone of his voice is apologetic, and soft.

“I think I should go.” He blushes, looking unsure and you see hesitation in the way he tries to reach for you. You silently hand him his suit, his fingertips lingering over your palm for too long.

You turn away from one another as you redress, and he clears his throat when you’re finished. You spin to meet his eyes, and you see it.

Longing.

Your hands shakily trace over the black spider symbol of his suit, contrasting from the confidence you had bared to him earlier.

He doesn’t say anything, but he takes you into his arms without mention.

“I won’t let you go after Kingpin alone.” He rasps, and you try to wipe at the lipstick stain on his Adam’s apple.

“Then come with me. I can end this.”

Your face glimmers of fear, and he recognizes a roughened, nervous Y/N - no sight of the cocky Felicia Hardy he had fought before.

“Okay.”

Peter moves to cradle your chin, his swollen lips ghosting over yours. He kisses you, his index and middle finger settling on either side of your ear as his thumb presses into your skin.

Spider-Man knew the Black Cat was horrible for him, like you were an oil spill - a darkness dominating over the serenity of water.

But there was no one else in the city like you.

Peter Parker was drawn to your darkness and your mystery.

Maybe he was made to play in the shadows, or maybe he was just another toy in a cat’s game.

-

[thefreakymunson]

can u do some eddie angst to comfort please? maybe they get into a bad argument because readers brother thinks they need to stay away from eddie but reader doesn’t want to listen. somehow they fight but eventually they make up because they miss each other

"You think I WANT this, Eddie?" You shouted, walking after him down the pavement from your front steps.

"Jesus - WHAT is it that you do want, Y/N? I can't fucking take this anymore." Eddie shook his head, "You sure as fuck don't tell me what's going on in your life anymore. Or why I can't come inside your house? What the fuck is this? They got it out for me or something?"

You seen the wild eyed look in his eyes as he turned around to stare you down. Everything happened so fast.

You came home from school to your mom, dad, and older brother sitting on the couch waiting for you. You were blindsided by them as they demanded you to stop seeing your boyfriend of two years. They had heard he was rumored to be in a cult with close ties to the mysterious murders over the summer. They didn't want him anywhere near you.

"They - they heard about the accusations, Eddie. They're - they're scared of you. They say your a bad influence and you're only out to hurt me."

"Hurt you?" Eddie snorted and shook his head, "What the fuck! We've been together for two years. I haven't hurt you yet."

"Why didn't you tell me about the accusations?" You stared at him, "Why did I hear about them from my brother?"

"It's not something I boast about, Y/N. It's all bullshit anyway. You know that." Eddie shook his head, "You should know that."

"I think you should just leave, Eddie." You frowned, "I need time to think this over...I need time to myself."

"Fuckin' granted," Eddie snorted as he threw his hands up in the air, "You're more fucked up than I thought if you listen to them over me, Y/N."

He snorted and turned around from you, storming off down to his van. He sped off without a second glance back at you. Tears fell down your face as you watched him speed away. You knew he wasn't a murderer. He released spiders outside instead of killing them. The man wouldn't hurt a fly, much less you.

You walked back into your house and up to your bedroom, ignoring the calls of your family members as you closed the door. You needed to be fully alone to process everything.

You just wanted to be dialed in on the thigns effecting his life, too.

It was the evening of the next day when you got a call from one of your friends asking you to go to a party with them. They were bored and you needed to get away from the prying eyes of your family. You needed booze and some fun.

Before you knew it, you down by the quarry with a red solo cup in your hand. You moved through the throngs of classmates as you all danced lazily. You were in conversation with your best friend when the sight of that familiar head of hair caught your eye. His denim vest stood out in stark contrast to the leather coat he wore underneath it. There was no hint of a smile on Eddie Munson's face tonight.

You must've caught his eye at the exact same time as he walked past you. The two of you shared a look that was full of hurt and longing. He looked away before too long making your heart sink. You missed him. You mussed everything about him.

Excusing yourself from the group of girls, you silently followed him and the guy he was with through the crowd. You know where he was going as you seen the baggie sticking out the back of his jeans. Parties meant he made good money that night and it meant his life got a little bit easier for a few days.

You stood back, watching as the two traded money for weed. You were trying to be quiet, but you stumbled a bit and stepped on a twig, alerting both men to your presence.

"Hey man, what the-"

"It's cool," Eddie said, not even looking up as he counted the money, "She's just being her usual nosey self. That's my girl, she's fine."

It didn't go unnoticed that he still referred to you as his girl. At least you hadn't completely ruined everything. He still had some love for you by the sounds of it.

You stayed underneath the tree as he finished his deal. The guy walked off with his goods, leaving you and Eddie alone in the shadow of the night.

"Look, Y/N-"

"I don't want to fight anymore," you said softly, watching as he walked clsoer to you.

He leaned his shoulder against the tree, looking down at you skeptically. Even though it was dark, the moonlight illuminated his face enough that you could see the hurt etched into his features. You wanted to die knowing you were the cause of it.

"I'm sorry I blew up." You frowned, reaching out to grab his hand but he pulled it back, just out of your grasp.

"You think I'm capable of hurting people," He said, his voice heavy with unshed emotions, "That I want to hurt you...c'mon, Y/N. You know-"

"I know. I know." You nodded, "I just...please let me explain?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, obviosuly interested in what you had to say for yourself.

"I know that you'd never hurt me. I never doubted that for a second that you would, or even could. That's not what pissed me off. The fact you didn't tell me what was being said pissed me off." You frowned.

"It's embarrassing," Eddie nodded out towards the crowd of people, "They call me a freak. They don't care about what their words do to my reputation. They make my life a living hell every chance they get. I didn't want you to know just how much of a loser I truly am, Y/N."

"A loser?" Your eyes widened up at him, "I don't think you're a loser. And I've never cared what they said about you. I thought we could talk about anything and everything, regardless of how embarrassing it is. Eddie, I love you. I don't want this to end like this. I don't...I don't want this to be over. I've never cared what they have to say about you."

You watched as he hurriedly wiped his tears away. This was obviously effecting him more than he wanted to let on.

"Oh, Eddie." You frowned, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He hugged you tightly to him, unable to help the sobs that came from his body. Thankfully, you two were secluded and no one could see him breaking down. They didn't deserve to see him this vulnerable.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Eddie said, voice mumbled by your jacket, "I was just...scared."

[donald4spiderman]

hear me out…peter talking abt u in his sleep and it leads to him confessing his feelings for you? maybe fem!reader x andrew!peter parker if you could write this? totally up to you, and i love ur writing!

I’LL BE HERE WHEN YOU WAKE UP

sleepy confessions may be just what the two of you need to take your friendship to the next level. (friends to lovers)

tasm!peter x fem!reader

tw: kissing

a/n: sorry this took like five fucking months to do i’m the worst. PLEASE REBLOG!!!

*not proofread*

masterlist

EVERY TIME YOU SLEEP OVER, Peter is out like a light by 10 pm. No matter how hard he tries, he always ends up falling asleep. Especially if you’re next to him.

He feels horrible about it, but he really can’t help it. Peter loves spending time with you, and he hates to ruin all the fun by possessing the sleep cycle of a geriatric man.

You don’t mind—in fact, you’d rather him rest than watch a movie or play a card game. You’re super understanding of his exhaustion due to his responsibilities as both a Midtown student and NYC’s busiest superhero, Spider-Man. Plus, cuddling with your admittedly cute best friend is never a bother.

It’s only 9:30 pm—30 minutes earlier than usual—but Peter drags you into his creaky twin-sized bed anyway, smothering you with his heated torso as you giggle and wither beneath him. You’re no match for his enhanced strength.

“Snuggle me. Pleeeeeaaase.” He pouts, tucking his face into the crook of your neck as you struggle to free yourself from his hold.

You release somewhat of an exasperated groan, but the elation in your voice is still evident. “Mmm...fine.”

“Yes!” Peter grins, slithering his vascular arms tightly around the swell of your hips, face pressed firmly into your chest, “and, uh, can you play with my hair, too?”

“This sure seems likes a lot of labor.”

“Labor of love.” He corrects. He’s not totally wrong.

You thread your fingers through his chestnut hair, fingers scratching and massaging gently at his scrap. You swear you can hear him purr like a kitten—fuck.

Peter hums with content for a while. Then the noises stop, jaw falling open as his breathing slows into a calm rhythm.

You think about falling asleep too, but you’re not really tired at all. You glance down to Peters freckled face, smiling as you trace the outline of his cheeks and nose.

“Hmmmph.” He groans, shuffling slightly.

Shit. Can he sense when people stare at him? He is Spider-Man after all. He’s never mentioned it, though... Shit!

Your worries fade when his falls relaxes again. Okay, good. He’s asleep.

“(Y/N)...” Peter mumbles, startling you, though his voice registers below a whisper.

So he is awake? “Peter,” you reply, “is everything okay?”

“(Y/N). Nooooo, don’t do that!” Don’t do what?

Then the realization dawns on you: he’s sleep talking.

You stifle a laugh, not wanting to rattle the sleeping boy on your chest. His brows furrow together like he’s deep in thought. He murmurs something you can’t quite decipher.

“Stop it. Stop being so...cute.” Peter smiles to himself, snickering. “Mm...you’re so cute. Kayoooot.”

Okay, well, there must be someone else in the dream, too. There’s no way it’s just you and him. ‘Cause then that means he would be calling you cute and that’s just—no, that’s not what’s happening.

You’re certain your heart rate is going a million beats per minutes and your inhales grow shallow; you know for a fact Peter’s senses can detect that kind of thing. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing your lungs and heart to slow.

“(Y/N)! Please,” Peter jerks in he sleep, hands flapping around your waist, “just kiss me.”

Kiss...Peter. This is not happening. No no no. This is not real. Maybe you’re the one dreaming right now because there’s no way your hearing things correctly.

“I love you so much, (Y/N).”

Shit.

-

You barely managed to sleep last night, especially with the extremely snuggly Peter flush against you. You ran through a thousand different excuses or reasons for why he would say things like “kiss me” or “I love you” with respect to you, his best friend. But after a long time spent contemplating, you realized that there was no platonic rationalization behind his sleepy confessions.

Peter likes you.

You woke up long before him, troubled by this epiphany. You haven’t done anything all morning besides pace quietly in his kitchen, nearly disturbed by the ordeal you’re in. It’s not that you don’t like Peter-it’s just-things are so much more fucking complicated now than they should be.

You tense when you hear him shuffle out of his bedroom and through the hallway.

“Morning.” He greats, voice so raspy it’s sinful.

You eyes wander down his toned stomach, stopping at the waist band of his plaid pants where the firm edge of his hipbones jut out. You tear your eyes away and gulp. You’ve never been this flustered before.

“Yeah, m-morning.” You stammer, refilling your glass of water in an attempt to busy yourself.

“Sleep well?”

You sigh, “Yeah, I guess,” deciding to pry a little, you follow up with, “did you?”

He nods. You don’t notice any tell or twitch in his behavior. “Yeah. Like a baby. The usual.”

You nod and giggle, “I know. You slept 12 hours.”

“Holy shit. 12?”

“Uh-huh.”

The conversations lulls in an unsuspecting matter. Usually, the both of you have something to say—endless things to talk about. The atmosphere is uncharacteristically frigid.

“So...” you start, “dream about anything last night?”

His face perks up, “What? Why? No. I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause somebody talks in their sleep.”

Peter’s face falls into his hands. “Cool. Did I, uh, say anything? J-just wondering.” His face goes beat-red as he looks up at you.

He already knows, right? But does he know that you know? This entire thing is a huge mess.

“I may have a heard a few thing...”

“Oh, god,” he groans, “what did you hear?”

You bite your lip, hands fiddling anxiously behind your back. “Well, what do you think I heard?”

“Are y-you really gonna make me say it?” Peter stutters, a bashful yet frightened grin on his face.

“I am. So, say it.” You encourage, holding back a grin, too.

He laughs, anticipation nearly killing the both of you. “I, uh, like you.”

“Just ‘like’?” You tease, smile spreading over your entire face. “‘Cause I recall you saying something a little bit different...”

“Alright,” he concedes, “I love you—in a more than best friend kind of way. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before and that you had to find out like this. I swear I was planning on telling you soon.”

It feels surreal to hear something you never know you needed to hear. Your heart swells with both pride and adoration.

“You really do?” you gleam, walking from behind the kitchen to stand in front of him.

He meets you in the middle, arms wrapping behind your waist to pull you in closer.

“I do,” he whispers, “do you love me back.”

You glance down at his lips, “Mm, I think I do.”

“Think?”

“I need to kiss you first in order to be sure.” You declare, earning a hearty chortle from Peter.

He leans down, cupping your jaw with one hand, the other pulling you tighter from the waist. Your eyes flutter shut when your lips meet, the faintest of touches, before they crash together. You never believed in sparks, but kissing Peter feels like fireworks exploding beneath your chest. God, love makes you sound so cliche. Yeah. You do love him.

Eventually, you break apart, noses still touching—you wish to be impossibly close forever.

“Alright. I know I love you.”

let me know what you think!

[awkwardlyfangirly]

HI TGIS IS MY FIRST REQUEST EVER SO YEA

MAYBE A GN READER THATS FRIENDS WITH THE TURTLES BUT HAS MORE A CONNECTION WITH LEO AND THE READER GETS ATTACKED BY SOME CRIMINALS AND LEO SAMES THEM AND ENDED UP DOING THE SPIDER-MAN KISS AND THAT WOULD BE LIKE THEIR FIRST KISS TOGETHER OMFG

I AM SO HONORED TO BE YOUR FIRST REQUEST EVER

hope u enjoy! :)

/////////////

rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles fanfiction ~ Leonardo x female reader ~ tw/cw: reader gets somewhat unsuccessfully mugged in an alley lol

/////////////

You were normal, right?

Like, you didn’t have a lot of friends. That was normal.

And you were a senior in high school. That was also normal.

You lived in an apartment with your dad, and you had two older sisters who were studying abroad, and you had a hamster named Oreo Cupcake, and you had a lot of posters on your walls. Normal.

You were normal, right? Right??

You’d spent so, so many years of your life desperately wanting to not be normal. Just wanting something, anything, to happen to you. Just wanting to stand out.

And look at you now. Spending so much of your time hanging upside-down off your bed, blasting music into your eardrums at a volume that will probably cause early hearing loss, staring at the texts pinging into your phone and just wishing that your life was anything resembling normal.

Because the truth of the matter was that you were not normal. Not at all.

Your few friends were four color-coordinated human/turtle mutant ninjas who lived in the sewers, blew up your phone with the weirdest texts you’d ever be able to imagine, and annoyed the chicken nuggets out of you. They wouldn’t be normal even if they didn’t live in the sewers or weren’t, you know, mutant human/turtle ninjas. Also April, who was technically “normal,” but lived the same decidedly un-normal existence as you.

Not normal. You weren’t normal.

You hung out in the sewers most of the time with your ninja turtle friends and sometimes encountered other weird things like a raging celebrity chef turned pig mutant who tried to kill you or a raging news anchor turned worm mutant who tried to kill you or a sweet and bubbly random dude turned capybara mutant who constantly provided you with the best lemonade you’d ever had and --

and yeah. Not normal.

Which is why you felt… decidedly unsurprised when you found yourself being backed against a wall by a pair of humanlike foxes -- or foxlike humans -- in a dark alleyway. Unsurprised; just disappointed. You knew better than this. You shouldn’t be getting mugged.

“I don’t want trouble,” you said. Your eyelids were so heavy. You’d just finished the closing shift at work; you’d been getting your hands cracked and calloused with mop and broom handles for the past thirty minutes. You just wanted to get home and put on Phineas and Ferb and sleep.

The yokai or mutant or whatever standing on the left smiled, his teeth vicious and bright in the artificial moonlight of the city. “Should’ve thought of that before you bothered to come here wearing that.” He reached out with a sharp, curved claw to hook the chain around your neck, scratching your skin a bit.

“Okay,” you said.

He yanked, sudden and firm. The necklace came off in his paws.

You flinched.

You were trusting beyond trust that they wouldn’t hurt you -- that they’d take the necklace and go -- but the second yokai or mutant or whatever put a paw on his shoulder.

“Hey,” she said. “Hey. Look at that.”

“At what?”

And she gestured at the Hamato clan symbol you wore around one wrist.

“You know where we’ve seen that before?”

“No,” the first yokai or mutant or whatever said, sounding irritated. “What are you --”

And the second one leaned in to whisper into his ear.

You watched his eyes widen and his ears perk up.

“You’re kidding,” he whistled. “You’re kidding. So you’re a Hamato, kid?”

Okay. That was trouble.

Guess Phineas and Ferb and the sweet, sweet embrace of unconsciousness would have to wait a little while.

The yokai or mutants or whatever -- you were leaning towards ‘yokai,’ seeing as they’d recognized the Hamato symbol -- had made you press your arms above your head, against the wall. But you slowly shifted your fingers until you could depress the panic button.

There were two gentle pulses against your fingers -- the panic button silently letting you know that it had transmitted your signal.

You stared at the sickly sweet grins spreading across the faces of your attackers and your throat clenched tight.

Hurry, you begged. Hurry.

There were four Hamato boys. Raph, Donnie, Leo, and Mikey. Currently all in a giant pile in the living room, biting and kicking, while Splinter screamed at them to settle down, he couldn’t hear his TV show. SETTLE DOWN. And finally he had to step in and slap them all in the face with his hairless pink tail, and even then, Leo and Donnie were still glowering at each other.

Splinter sighed, deeply, and pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Boys --”

And then the panic signal activated.

It alerted each of the brothers, pulsing against their wrists until they tapped it twice. It was Y/n’s signal.

Leo felt his heart drop.

It was Y/n’s signal.

“Where is she?” he said, quickly, as the brothers gathered around Donnie to stare at the map on his armband. All thought of the last minute’s tussle was out of everyone’s mind. The only thought was her.

Donnie moved his fingers to enlarge the map. “Right there,” he said, tapping at her blinking icon. “Let’s go.”

You were still standing in the same spot, pressed up against the wall, as the yokai argued about what they should do with you.

“Big Mama,” one of them was saying, without stopping, over and over and over again. “Big Mama. Big Mama. Big Mama. Big Mama.”

The other kept talking over her, loudly. “You know how Big Mama is. She’ll steal us for the games. We won’t have a choice. The Foot Clan will want her. The Foot Clan hates the Hamato. The Foot Clan doesn’t run a bloody battle to the death that they will inevitably trick us into.”

“Big Mama,” the other kept saying, louder and louder. “Big Mama. Big Mama.”

You tried to scoot towards the opening of the alley. They didn’t seem to notice; they were so wrapped up in their own argument. Closer. And closer. And closer. Just a few more feet --

“Hey,” one of the foxes said, and you felt its claws close around your shoulder. Your heart leapt into your mouth and you stopped breathing for a moment. It dragged you back into the alley.

The other yokai sighed and admitted defeat.

“Fine,” she huffed. “Fine. You’re right. Big Mama is too dangerous to deal with. We go to the Foot Clan.”

Her brother chirped happily.

“You heard her,” he growled into your ear, the sudden tone shift startling you. “We’re going to the Foot Clan. Come on. Let’s go.”

The Foot Clan. April was always more eager to tag along on the action than you were; she and the boys had told you all about them. You’d only encountered them twice, yourself. And you weren’t eager to encounter them again.

Please hurry, you begged again. Please hurry.

And you didn’t move your feet fast enough for the foxes; they shoved you forward, roughly, and your heart rose into your mouth again. Propelled itself up through your throat. You choked on it for a second, gasping for air.

Please hurry.

They’d received the message, you knew. First there were the two pulses letting you know that your signal had transmitted -- and then three more pulses after a few seconds, letting you know that they’d actively received and acknowledged your signal. They were on the way. They could track you if you were moved anywhere. You would be fine. You would be fine.

For a moment, you wished you were April instead -- she was so strong, so full of life and fire. She’d have both of the yokai on the ground, sobbing, without raising a single finger. And then you felt bad for wishing April was here, instead of you.

Please. Please hurry.

They had to. They had to. You’d never used your panic button before, but you couldn’t imagine it would take them too long to respond. Especially since you were on the surface, on the streets of New York -- not too hard to track, probably. Hopefully.

Please.

You didn’t have many friends. But these friends were like your flesh and blood. You knew -- without even having to think about it -- that you’d die for them. Again and again. You’d give up anything for any single one of them -- go without food or water or sleep for days -- face your darkest fears and the darkest parts of yourself. Just for them.

And they’d do the same for you.

It was why you wore the Hamato insignia on your wrist: a symbol marking you as one of their own, part of their family. You were there for one another, always; protecting one another, always.

They’d be here. They’d be here.

The foxes cackled again -- their laughs were chilling, echoing sharply through the warm night air -- and the one grabbed you, slinging you over his shoulder. You went limp. Every muscle in your body went completely limp, immediately.

You held your breath.

“Wait,” the other one said. “The Hamato clan -- wouldn’t they want her back?”

“There are still Hamato??”

“You’re so dumb.” His sister rolled her eyes. “Yes, there are still Hamato. Remember? Those turtles?”

“Ohhh, yeah!”

“I bet you they’d pay a ransom beyond all ransoms.”

“I trust the Foot Clan more than I trust those Hamatos, though,” her brother mused, and before she could reply, one of Those Hamatos had landed with a THUD on the fire escape above him.

“Hey!” it said. “That really hurt my feelings!”

You tried to twist your head to see what was going on -- but before you could, a hand grabbed the back of your shirt, and you were yanked backward, off of the yokai’s shoulder and into the security of the roof above.

“You good??” Leo screamed twice in your ear before you finally came back to yourself and coughed.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay, I’m okay --” you started, and then he wrapped you tight in his arms.

“You sure??”

“Yes,” you gasped, as he crushed the lungs out of you.

“I was so worried!! You’ve never set off your panic button before!”

“I’ve never been mugged by two kidnappy yokai before!!”

“Fair point,” he admitted, and squeezed you close again.

You sank your head into his shoulder.

He was firm, and warm, and his shell was solid and sturdy under your shaking hands. A breath in -- and then you started to sob.

He rocked you slightly back and forth. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re alive, alright?”

You nodded, still sobbing, and he rubbed the back of your head with one hand and pressed his face into your hair.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “Sorry I’m so dramatic. It just --”

“Not too dramatic,” he said. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He portaled the two of you back down to the floor and the other brothers gathered around you as Leo climbed back up to the fire escape, dangling his feet and keeping his eyes on you. They asked you if you were alright, and reassured you that they were taking the yokai to the appropriate authorities. You told them you were alright. You thanked them.

“I’ll help walk you home,” Mikey offered.

“I’ll do it,” Leo called, from the fire escape.

“I don’t really --”

“I’ll do it,” Leo said again. “I got it, really.”

And so they left. Leaving the two of you alone.

“I’ll help get you home,” Leo said. “Don’t worry.”

He’d hung himself backwards off of the fire escape, his head dangling close to yours as you turned towards him.

“Thank you,” you told him. “I appreciate it.”

His entire face lit up when he smiled.

“Anything for you,” he said, softly.

Now, all four of the Hamato boys were four-fifths of your best friends in the world. But Leo -- ? Leo was your favorite.

You didn’t know what it was -- “soulmates,” perhaps? -- but the two of you had clicked from the moment you met. You could tell him anything, and he would listen; and vice versa. You knew his hugs like the back of your hand, and his warmth was always a comforting presence next to you when neither of you could sleep and you ended up at each other’s houses, idling away the time until you dozed off together. You loved all of the boys, but you loved Leo the most.

You’d never tried to kiss him, and he’d never tried to kiss you. You’d never discussed taking your relationship to that stage. You were just there for each other; the best of best friends; forever and ever.

But he was hanging upside down in front of you and staring at your lips.

That seemed like invitation enough.

You stepped a bit closer to him and placed your palms on his cheeks and started to lean in, your heart pounding so hard that it seemed absolutely definite that he could feel it in the pressure of your hands.

He didn’t say anything. He just looked at you. His eyes moving from your eyes, to your lips, and back.

He didn’t pull away. He didn’t try to right himself. He just dangled there, and stared.

And then he reached out his own hand, relying on his legs to keep him in place -- and he touched your own cheek, his thumb gently caressing your lips. His hand pulled you a little closer --

and then, contact.

Contact.

Your lips on his, or his on yours, who knew? Did it matter?? It didn’t matter to you. Nothing mattered to you, suddenly. You couldn’t understand anything except the soft firm gentle warmth of his lips and the way they moved against yours.

You gasped for breath, your mouths still together, and he kissed you again, and again, humming against your lips as you gulped in your shared air.

You felt his heartrate speeding up, right where your fingers met the junction of his jaw with his throat. You broke your lips away from his and kissed at his pulse.

“I like this,” he mumbled, putting both of his hands on both sides of your head, cupping your jawline. “I like kissing you.”

And you giggled and rested your forehead on his chin. He took the opportunity to kiss at your own heartbeat, fast and giddy in your neck.

“I like kissing you too,” you whispered, and he took one of your hands in his and brought the fingernails to his lips.

It was a long, long while before he finally walked you back home.

[ddejavvu]

Hi! CONGRATULATIONS ON 6K THATS AMAZING!!!! So happy 4 u :D I know it’s the last day but I wanted to throw in a request for your 5.7 k event if that’s okay?

My heart won't change

Peter Parker + “I love you too much to ever forget you.” Where readers friends and family having forgotten their birthday, so all her family goes out for plans without her. Peter shows up at her door with balloons and flowers at night to wish her happy birthday, and she immediately collapses into tears in his arms.

Peter Parker is the last person you expect to see when you open the door. Your parents don't knock, but your best friends are out, so you have no time to prepare for the sight you're greeted with when it swung open.

A colorful party hat is strapped under Peter's chin, the boy's blinding grin on display as he stands waiting for you. He holds a cake in his hands, red and blue frosted with a spider-man action figure stuck messily into the icing.

"Happy birthday, bug." His voice is impossibly bright, lighting up the darkened street around him, "Do you like it? I made it myself!"

You stare down bewilderedly at the cake, two messy eyes drawn onto either side. They're just like the lenses of his mask, and he catches your eye scanning them.

"May had to help me with that part," He admits, "But the rest is- hey!"

You burst into tears before he can finish regaling his baking tales. The thoughtfulness clearly displayed in the sloppy icing before you strikes your heart with a warmth you had never felt before. Sure, you were loved. But you'd never felt it like this, you'd never felt so wholly and unequivocally cared for.

It makes Peter panic. He sets the cake as gently as he can on the flower boxes to his right, then takes you into his arms hurriedly. You sob weakly into his shoulder, pent-up frustrations from a day of neglect all piling up and oozing out now that the cycle is broken.

"What- what's wrong, sweetheart?" Peter tries in vain to get you to speak, but all you can do is blubber, "I mean, I know it's not the best cake in the world but I didn't think it was that bad!"

"'S not the cake," You urge, your voice muffled miserably into his neck, "I love you, Peter."

Your throat is clogged with emotion and it bleeds through your voice, making his arms wind tighter around you.

"I love you too, Y/N." He almost lets out a laugh at how adorable you are, but doesn't want to make you feel patronized, so he keeps it in. Instead he channels it into the bear hug he's giving you, suddenly tempted to let his sticky grip win over and cage you to him forever.

When the sniffles finally die down, though, he decides against it. He gently pulls back from the hug, peering concernedly at you, "Are you okay, bug?"

"I'm good," You laugh bashfully, wiping tears off of your face, "I just- everyone forgot me, and- aah! I love you, Peter."

He frowns at the realization that he's the only one who's shown, but giggles softly at your repetition. The sentiment is sweet whether you've said it once or a million times.

"I love you too much to ever forget you," He smiles sappily at you, then leans in to press a soft kiss to your lips. You let him, basking in his affection rather than pushing it further.

When he draws back you lick over your lips slightly, a soft blue film transferring to your tongue. You smack your lips thoughtfully, then glance at the cake, "You've already had some, haven't you?"

Peter blushes under your interrogation, "Only a little bit! I got to lick the spoon."

His admission only makes your heart soar further, and you eagerly tug him inside, grabbing the cake so that he doesn't have to. You notice that there's been a gift bag by his feet the entire time, and from the looks of it it has several wrapped presents inside. You let him take over that, though, rushing the cake to the kitchen and nearly dropping the knife in your hands before you can cut it.

"Easy!" He chides you lightly, "Can't have you making a birthday trip to the ER."

"They might give me special treatment," You shrug, "Two painkillers instead of one?"

"My girlfriend the druggie." He pinches teasingly at your side, then watches as you pluck the action figure from its sticky stance. You pop its feet into your mouth, running your tongue over the plastic to clean it off.

"Very good frosting," You note, taking a swipe from the side of the cake, "How big of a slice do you want, Peter?"

"Half," He grins cheekily at you, "Let's finish it so no one else gets any!"

"Deal," You giggle, eagerly chopping the cake in half down the middle, "Left or right eye, Peter?"

"Left." He chooses without hesitation, "It's your birthday so I have to let you be right."

"What a gentleman," You snort, plating the massive slab of cake, holding it close to your chest before handing it to him, "Thank you, Peter."

"You're welcome." He doesn't even feel right responding, because it's the least he could have done for you. Or maybe it's not, maybe it's over the top and extravagant, but he doesn't care. Because he loves you, and he loves letting you know it.

[secretaccountlol]

How could you, Spiderman?

Hi, I've been staring at this piece of shit fic for too long. I lowkey hate it. So, I just ran it through Grammarly one last time before uploading it, I'm wiping my hands clean of this monstrosity!

18+ This is S-M-U-T !!!

This is written with tasm/insomniac games spiderman in mind but you can picture any spidey you'd like.

CW: Bondage, swearing, angry talk, like non-con if you squint? [The reader plays hard to get to protect her feelings] unprotected sex, teasing, humiliation, praise kink!

Summary: Well, unfortunately for you turns out spiderman was using you to get to king pin's files. Now, you're stuck between a bed and a hard place.

As always, please like, reblog, or comment I always love hearing from ya'll <3 ! Anyways! ENJOY!

You writhe against the cool webbing, a horrid creaking sound glides through the air as Spider-Man glares at you momentarily before shifting back to look at your computer. “Shh! I'm trying to read your top secret files!” His playful tone pisses you off, as you start to thrash around even more. He takes the flash drive he had previously shoved in your computer back as he turns to you. You shoot daggers through his heart with the malice that radiates from your eyes, his confidence shatters for a moment he’s not sure, if he’s doing the right thing anymore, not that you can see that through the mask. He gently pries off the webbing from your mouth. “You fucking asshole!” You huff, he sighs. “I-..yeah I deserve that.” He bites his lip and his hands' fiddle with the flash drive. “Did anything we do mean anything? Or were you just trying to get into King Pin’s pants through mine?! Huh, Spider-!”

You fiercely twist and turn. You can feel your wrist bruising but you don’t care you just want to rip that stupid mask off his face and shove it down his throat. Spider-Man quickly places his hands over your bonded ones, throwing the flash drive on your dresser. “Please calm down, you'll hurt yourself, angel.” His light touch instantly soothes your burning skin for a second before you remember what he’s done and then you start trying to kick his shins with your unbounded legs. “Fuck you! Like you care! if you did you wouldn’t have pulled this shit!” He throws his legs over yours straddling you, caging your legs in, they still jitter under him desperate to hit him. “You think I wanted to see you like this?! Huh? So infuriated at me you can’t look me in the eyes without thinking of ripping my head off?!” He slaps his hands on the bed beside your body, he grips the soft sheets. “It wasn’t supposed to go this far, I’m sorry” he faced away from you, his mask hid his face, but not his voice.

“How far was it supposed to go then?” You're chested and pumped laboriously. “I-.. we were supposed to be just- friends. But- I..” he finally turned to look at you. “You’re..personality- it’s - your. Fuck! You’re so cute, funny, amazing I-I couldn’t stay away.” His hands found their way to your face, you let him touch you slightly leaning into his touch, though you didn’t want to. “I’m a wax candle and you’re the sun, I just got too close to you..” he tilts forwards bringing his face to yours you can feel the breath through his mask, softly nuzzling your face. “So, it’s MY fault for being so charming?” You chuckle cruelly. “And how cheesy are you? Let’s be real, you just wanted to fuck.” You scoff, and you try to turn your head away from him, but his strong hands keep your head in place.

“ Ha- okay, well fucking you was a..Bonus. Per Se .” He matter-of-factly stated to you, he analyzed your face for any reactions, you refused to be antagonized, you simply only scowled. This prompted him to lean back to observe you, really ogle you. Clearly, you had planned for him to be there, but not in this way. Your hair was styled the way he told you he liked it, nails done in his favorite color, and your nightgown, or lack thereof. His eyes raked down, a light blue lingerie gown. convoluted detailed bralette and dainty panties lining your hips. Your demeanor switched instantly. You turn away hiding your gaze, you pout, not like you could do anything anyways.

“Were you..for me?” His voice was quiet, awestruck. You didn’t answer, you couldn't, the shame and anger blistered inside of you. Your body shivered as he palmed your breast softly, humming to himself as his other hand traced down your sides. “All mine, hm?” His voice vibrated through your ears. “I am not yours!” You jerked your head back to stare at him. “Oh? Say it to my face then.” His smug tone irked you. “I totally could if you’d show me, coward!” You spit back. “Fine!” As he lugged his mask off, you're frozen in place, HOLY FUCK. “Come on, say it. Say you don’t want to be mine, angel.” Spider-Man’s eyes were trained on yours. You tried to speak, but nothing came out. He was ..beautiful, soft brown hair flopped into his gentle, kind eyes, though they looked regretful, his lips were a perfect kissable pink. You were kinda glad he waited this long to show you his face because you’d probably be too shy to talk to him if you knew he was THIS handsome.

The feeling of a cool hand slipping into the baby pink panties snapped you back to reality you jerk against it, and your eyes find his. “Sp-“ “Peter” before you could voice your confusion he spoke again. “Peter Parker. It’s my real name, remember it, please. I rather you scream that today, instead of Spider-Man, while I fuck your brains out tonight, Kay?” The words rolled from his tongue with ease, making your face feel like flames. “Wh-what gives you the impression you’ll be getting anything outta me tonight, you webhead ?” You smirked but before you could hurl more insults, his fingers precipitously flicked your clit, involuntary moan slips through your mouth.

“Fuck.” You muttered, your chest heaved again. “That. Right there gives that impression.” His fingers circle your clit again, poking and toying with you. You weren’t gonna back down that easily, You made an effort to keep still and quiet as his eyes bore into yours. “Oh? Silent treatment, angel, really?” His hands rubbed gently down your folds, you let out a sigh to your dismay. “Mm come on- you know I love those pretty sounds of yours, angel.” His whispers tickled your ear. “Fu-ck Off!” You manage to mutter through clenched teeth. “I’m not giving myself up to you that easi- Shi-Ah!“ Peter’s fingers found their way into your aching hole, while the other hand found a way into your mouth, his thumb resting in the middle of your tongue while the rest held your chin in place to look at him.

“Mm, that’s fine I’ll just make sure your mouth stays open so I can hear every beautiful little sound you make.” His mouth contorted into an evil smirk, as he pumped two fingers into you, your eyes screwed shut, and choked whimpers broke through the air as you felt him shift to watch his puppeteering. “P-Peter!” Your speeches slurred with his thumb in your mouth, You sounded ridiculous, you felt ridiculous, and your strong resolve had crumbled within seconds. “Yes, my love?” His voice was laced with syrup and honey, you couldn’t stand it. “I can’t-mm S��mm- top it, I’mm Gunna c-cum..” your body spasmed against his hands, as he pressed you down further to keep you in place. “I’ve only put two fingers in, my love. You can handle more than that, I know you can.” You soon felt three digits probing your cunt. “See? Fit three fingers in this pretty thing!” You whimpered, clutching your eyes closed.

God, you could explode from embarrassment. You could hear the sloppy movements of his fingers tearing in and out of you. “Fuck when I said pretty sounds I was talking about your mouth, but your pussy is giving me a whole vocal performance too. God, you’re perfect.” You whine against his words, your ears burned. “Why is your pussy so happy today, hm, baby?” His questions hung in the air as his tongue slithered down your neck, his mouth biting, nibbling you wherever he could reach, taking his hand out of your mouth to clench your throat to angle it more to his liking. Another strained whimper passed through your mouth, “Is the lingerie? No.. that couldn’t be it.. Me fucking you raw in my suit? Nope, we’ve done that plenty…ah-! I bet it’s cuz you're all tied up.” His “p” popped at the end. All you could do was nod pathetically. “Aw, sweetheart, I would’ve tied you up anytime, if I knew you liked bondage, you should tell me these things, baby.” His tone was condescending, he was patronizing you. His fingers pulled out of you, you moaned at the loss of fullness.

“Shh, I’ll give you something even better, darling.” You hear shuffling, you finally open your eyes to see Peter in his full glory, fully naked, your eyes track him as he hovers over you once more. “Like what you see?” His eyes lowered in a satisfied smirk. “Shut up and fuck me, you bastard” you spat out. “Tsk- that’s not nice. Ask nicely and I’ll gladly fuck your brains out, angel.” Peter nuzzles his chin between your neck and shoulders, humming softly again. “Wha-?” You try to twist to see his face, to avail. “You heard me, beg. Beg for what you want.” His nuzzles turn into hickeys as he waits for your reply, a minute passes as your mind races. “Parker.” “Angel-?“ You try mimicking his tone to steal some of his confidence. “Fuck me…” your voice trailed off. “Have to be louder, couldn't hear you baby” Parker parks himself on his elbows, his hands resting on his cheeks, staring at you with a gleeful look. “Fuck..me please..” his face lights up. “Of course, my love” his nose nuzzles yours, and you grin. “I’m gonna rip this off the bed frame ok? Stay still.” You nod as your hands are freed from the headboard, you instantly pull his face down to kiss you, which he accepts graciously.

“You haven’t kissed me this whole time.” You whisper against his lips, capturing them again and again. “Sorry angel, won’t happen again.” His dorkish smile lit up your heart as he hoisted you up. “Wanna ride me pretty girl?“ he gleams, his eyes radiating love for you, as you nod, priming yourself as you maneuver down his shaft. “Shit.” His whimpers fueled your desire, as you shakily bounced up and down his shaft.

“T-take your time, y-fuckfuckfuck… don’t have to go fast, love.” You chuckle watching his face contorted in pleasure. “I know, I just love watching you unravel.” You buck up suddenly as he slams back into you, trying to meet your strokes. “Tr-tryin’ to get payback, h-hm?” His breath faltered heavily as his glazed eyes stared into yours. “Yeah baby, you need a little punishing yourself” you giggle before it curves into a moan. “Mm- fuck yes yes-“ you lean towards his chest. “Just- yes right there, Peter! God- yes, you’re so.. sososo good. Please fuck-!” You were babbling now you couldn’t help it, Peter pinned you back down to the bed again fucking you into the sheets. Plea..- plea-! I-I wann- cumm- please” you’re definitely not making sense now but Peter welcomed it, he craved it. “It’s okay pretty girl I’m almost there too-“ his hands hold the back of your head trying to keep you from moving out of his grasp. Three more movements and both you collapse, a heaving mess, his cum flowing into your pussy as your nails dig into his back. His mouth slotted over yours as you both breathed life into each other.

He broke the silence first, “What..Should I- should we do now?” You snuggled your face into his shoulder. “I- I don’t know, Peter” You both relish each other's presence for a bit before Peter tries to get up, you break the silence this time, gripping his hand. “But I-I know ..I still want you to stay the night.” Your voice was small but you knew he heard you. He simply nods, snuggling you tighter. This was okay, For now.

[rnebbie]

Graduation (request)

Ryan Reynolds x teen! Reader, Ryan Reynolds x costar! Reader

Requested by: anonymous

Request description: heyy if requests are open could i request one with ryan reynolds x teen!reader? where the reader is upset that her dad isnt coming to her high school graduation (shitty fathers, am i right) and she thinks ryan cant make it because of some event, but he shows up and it gets emotional? reader can be a co-star on one of his movies, maybe a recent one like free guy :) thanks babe!

Warnings: parental issues, swearing, outbursts of anger, anxiety & insecurity

(A/n:) !!! Didn’t proofread bc I’m rushing. Anyways: Haven’t graduated high school yet or even seen a graduation take place besides in the amazing Spider-Man 2 so that’s the experience I’m going off of lol. Sorry if ryan’s out of character this is my first time writing for him. Criticism is welcomed & encouraged and lmk if u want to be added to my taglist

Dads not coming. Sorry baby :(

Your eyes narrow as you read your mother’s text over and over again as if there’s anything hard to understand about it. But honestly, it’s a common occurrence for your father to just drop out of rather important events.

You thought he might make an effort to be there for you this one time. On your very special day; the day you graduate high school. But you feel dumb for even considering that in the first place. You know it was never on his radar.

Sighing, you shut your phone off and toss it on the couch next to you, before rubbing your temples. You try to ease the anger you’re feeling before it manifests into something it doesn’t need to be. You didn’t get much from your father. Not time, love, attention, energy. But you did get his anger issues. And that’s why you have to calm yourself down.

You take a deep breath before reaching for your phone, you and your mothers text conversation being the first thing you see. You write out a long rant, your thumbs slamming against your phone's keyboard and your breath hitching every few seconds when you think of a new way to complain about your father.

But before you send it, you remember, it’s just your mother. She’s not responsible for your fathers actions and it’s unfair to take out your hurt feelings on her.

You delete the rant and replace it with

its ok. i love u ill see u soon

You stare at your texts before shutting your phone off. It doesn’t matter, you think. It doesn’t ever matter. Your feelings or accomplishments don’t ever matter to your father, and how foolish of you to believe they did even for an hour. An hour out of his afternoon for one day would be all he had to do to make it up to you. To make up for all the abandonment. But he can’t even do that.

You just grab a jacket and walk out of your trailer.

You and the cast were all planning to go out to lunch together, because no one had any other plans. But while you were walking towards the exit of the set, you only saw Ryan standing there.

“Everyone else somehow became too busy for us, so it’s just gonna be you and me.” Ryan said as you approached him within earshot. You bite your lip, you thought if you had gone with a bigger group it would’ve been easier to stay quiet and just bask in everyone else’s lives. But now that it’s just you and Ryan, it’s gonna be harder for you to pretend that nothings bothering you.

“That’s fine.” You reply, putting your hands in your jacket pockets.

Ryan makes a slightly confused face at your lack of character at the moment, but doesn’t seem to dwell on it. “Where do you wanna go?” He asks you, you shrug.

“Anywhere is fine.”

That’s it? No options, no suggestions, not even any funny or attempts-to-be-funny comments. Ryan can already tell something is wrong.

“Are you okay?” He asks. You attempt to smile and not, telling him you're fine, and you’re just hungry.

He decides on some place that recently opened near the set. You plan on ordering quickly, getting in and out, with as minimal talking as possible. But Ryan had different plans.

Once you two are seated you immediately open the menu and stare at it blankly. Ryan hasn’t opened his menu yet, but instead stares at you. “What’s up with you today?” He presses. You didn’t even realize he was paying attention to you so you don’t understand.

You make a confused face at him and shrug, “nothings wrong. What are you talking about?” You say. You can tell you’re acting like a typical teenager in a tv show but you can’t help it. It’s your current defense mechanism. Maybe you could get him to think it’s just your period or something.

“Yeah, okay. Well you’ve spoken fifteen words in the past thirty minutes which is a slight downgrade from your usual fifteen words a second, on a good day. So I’m not buying it.” He replies to your defense. You roll your eyes and look away. You feel like being really mean, because you’re just really upset. But you know that’s only going to continue the cycle.

“Nothings wrong, dude. I’m just tired and hungry. I need food.” You lie. You’re not a good liar, which is ironic because you’re an actor. You’d think actors are good liars, but not you. You’re only good at lying if it’s while the camera is rolling.

Ryan hums in response before picking the menu up and finally looking at it. You eye him, searching for any hesitation, before you do the same.

Shortly after, the waitress takes your order. You order something light and Ryan does the opposite. You ignore the urge to roll your eyes and curse him out.

After the waitress leaves, Ryan stares at you.

“Are you judging me?” He smiles, visibly messing with you. But you’re not in a jokey mood right now. “What?” You angrily reply.

“Because I ordered two sides. You’re totally silently judging me. Sorry I’m not as healthy and fit as you.” He continues with the stupid smile on his face, probably thinking he’d the funniest person alive.

“I literally didn’t even hear what you ordered.” You reply after being silent for a long couple of seconds trying to figure out how to answer him.

“Why? Because something’s bothering you?” He presses, looking slightly more serious. You roll your eyes. “Can you stop?” You simply reply.

“Can you talk to me? What’s the big deal?” He asks.

“Ryan, if I wanted to tell you I would.”

“So you’re admitting there's a problem.” He replies.

“I can deal with my emotions on my own!”

“We talk about every little thing, so it must be something big and important.” He theorizes.

“It’s nothing. Alright? Can you just stop please?” You beg, rubbing your forehead.

“You’re in a bad mood anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.” He replies to your plea.

You whisper an annoyance under your breath and try to tune him out, grabbing your phone out of your pocket and starting to tap your passcode in before Ryan reaches over and grabs it out of your hand.

“Dude, what the fuck? You can’t just take my stuff, you’re not my father.” You start raising your voice at him, not really caring if you’re making a scene, because the anger you feel is going to come out at one point or another.

Ryan acts taken aback and offended, “I never said I was. I’m just worried about you.” He raises his eyebrows.

“Well it’s not your job, ryan. It’s fine. You don’t need to hear it.” Your eyes start feeling all watery and you look down to avoid crying, something you often do and Ryan notices.

He reaches over to put his hand over yours but you flinch away and cross your arms over your chest.

“It’s not a matter of it being my job or not, y/n. I just care about you, the way any friend would.” He says.

You sigh and use your sleeves to dry your eyes that only slightly got wet. “My dad isn’t coming to my graduation.” You sniffle.

You wouldn’t be able to see, because you’re looking down. But Ryan frowns. You often complain about your dad to him and he feels for you. He wished he could make it better for you.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, y/n. What day is it?” He asks.

“It’s this coming Sunday. It’s fine.” You shake your head.

“He should care enough to be there. This is important.” Ryan sympathizes.

“Yeah.”

“I’m proud of you, y/n.” He says.

You press your lips together. “Thanks.” A tear rolls down your cheek and you quickly wipe it with your sleeve.

…

Sunday morning your stomach feels all upside down. You can’t believe high school is already over. Honestly you could wake up this morning and believe that you were still a confused freshman getting ready for school on Monday, but it’s all over now.

You’d kept in touch with your mom, she coaxed you through all of your anxiety. But you haven't heard a single word from your dad. You fought the urge to text him and just say “hi”. You didn’t because you grew angrier with every day you didn’t hear from him.

Ryan and the rest of the cast & crew you worked with kept reminding you of how proud of you they were and how excited they were for you. You invited them all in bulk a day or two after your talk with ryan. Some of them said yes, some said no, and after everyone fizzled out you walked over to ryan.

“Do you think you can make it?” You ask anxiously, looking at your feet.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize but I have a really important meeting that day. I can't miss it. I’m sorry, y/n. But I’ve already asked your mom to send me pictures!” He says to your dismay.

You immediately frown but try to cover it with a fake smile. “No worries.” You assure him. And usually you’d stay to chat more with him, but you immediately turn on your heel and walk away from him. Because you cannot stop the tears from falling once you realize you’ve now not only been rejected by one of your father figures, but now both.

You feel uncomfortable in your cap and gown. Out of place. You’d seen your fellow high school students graduate each year previously, and it feels surreal that it’s your turn now.

You sit in the crowd with your graduating class and try to keep your head straight. Not looking around or drawing any attention to yourself, since you already feel insecure enough.

You tune out almost all of the ceremony. The speeches and the stuff you should be caring about, but you’re too busy thinking about what went wrong in your childhood to get you to this point, where not even your own father gives a shit about your life?

You try to tell yourself that’s something to think about another time, but it’s difficult to just shake the feeling.

All too quickly they call your name, and your eyes widen before you jump up to receive your diploma. Once you're on the stage you look out to the crowd to try to meet your mothers eyes, and instead you see ryan.

You smile at him and wave, and he does the same. You’re shocked and you feel relieved and cared about. You feel like a pressure has just been lifted off your chest.

You don’t realize how caught up in the moment you are until you hear other people’s names being called. You snap back into reality and run off stage.

The rest of the ceremony is nothing. And after it’s over you run over to your mother and give her a massive hug. You thank her over and over again because you know you couldn’t have made it through high school without her. As you’re excitedly rambling to her about how you can’t believe you made it through high school, someone taps on your shoulder.

You turn around and see Ryan smiling.

You immediately throw your arms around him and your face collides into his warm shirt. He hesitates slightly before hugging you back. “Woah, I thought you weren’t a hugger!” He said, which isn’t wrong.

“Today I am.” You say, slightly muffled into his shirt.

Once you pull away from the hug you look at him, “I thought you couldn’t come!” You said.

Ryan shrugs, “I skipped the meeting. You’re much more important.” He says as if it’s nothing.

You stare at him for barely a second, before you burst out bawling.

Thank God everyone around you is too caught up in their own family, because otherwise that would’ve been a lot more embarrassing.

Ryan’s mouth drops open before he reaches over to hug you again. “Hey hey, what’s wrong?” He says, rubbing circles in your back.

You sob into his shirt, feeling bad because it’s already getting wet. “N-nothings wrong.” You hiccup as you continue crying.

You can’t see his face but if you could you’d see the confusion.

He lets you continue to cry for a couple dozen seconds before you answer again, still hugging him. “Thank you for caring about me that much.” You say, and sniffle as you try to stop your tears.

He pulls away, and puts his hands on your shoulders, bending down slightly to look you in the eyes. “I love you, y/n. Okay? This is nothing compared to what you deserve. Just because other people get too caught up in their own lives, doesn’t mean you matter any less.”

You let out a sob again, this time out of sadness as you think about what your father could be doing.

Ryan initiates the hug for the second time, but he just kinda stands there hugging your head as you sob into his shirt with your arms down. “I’m so proud of you, y/n. You should be proud too.”

You’re not valedictorian or anything, but you are important to Ryan Reynolds. And that’s more than enough for you.

…

Taglist: @ohworm-writes @spidyyparker (lmk if u wanna be added)

[meetmyothersouls]

Will you do something like ‘Will You Still Love Me When I’m a Ghost?’ please 🙏 it’s my fav of yours and I’m obsessed

So, it's not exactly like 'Will You Still Love Me', but it's got the ghostly vibe to it! Hope you love it!

Dead Like Me

Warnings: stalking/watching vibes, mentions of suicide, open wounds, Timothee x first person reader

The new neighbor is weird, I’ve decided. 

Really, I’m the new neighbor. I just moved into the two-story ranch house on Willow Drive at the beginning of the week. But, that doesn’t take away from the fact that the neighbor located directly across the street from me hasn’t taken his eyes off of me since the day my massive white and orange U-Haul with two rattle snakes painted on the side, pulled into the drive way.

Every day since then he’s been watching me in some way. Day one, he stood on his porch leaning his shoulder against one of the long white pillars that stood on either side of the two step staircase leading to his front door. His stance was casual and relaxed in every way. But no relaxed human stands on their porch, unmoving, for fifteen hours. 

Day two, he paced up and down the length of Willow Drive, walking all the way up to the stop sign just before the neighborhood pool then back down to the col-de-sac that dead ended our road. He stopped briefly in front of my house each time he passed and squinted, as if he was trying to look through my curtains. I made a mental note that day to buy blackout curtains. No one can see through those. 

It’s day three now and I am relived to not see him pacing the street or hanging out on his porch all day in mock casualty with an intense, ever present stare that doesn’t seem match. But, as I walk down my driveway to check my mail I see him. Two sets of eyes peering through a set of blinds pulled down so he could see me, or my house, or whatever it is that he is so intent on watching this closely. 

I’ve had enough. 

I storm across the street and practically leap up the two red-bricked steps leading up to his black painted door. I pound on it, and my knuckles scream in protest. I hear loud footsteps seemingly bounding down a staircase followed by several clicks of multiple locks unlocking. Then he opens the door, a chain lock still attached at very top. This mysterious man peeks out of the crack the chain allows and immediately shuts it. I wait, expecting him to open it back up, but then the locks are being clicked back to their locked position and I hear his footsteps slamming against the stairs as goes back to his position by his window.

“What the fuck, dude?” I say loudly, pounding on his door. 

After ten minutes of pounding, I give up rubbing my now sore knuckles as I trudge back to my house. A man walks a scrappy looking Yorkie and waves me down before I can get to my door. 

“Hey! Hey,” he says transitioning into a jog to catch up to you.  “You must be y/n.” 

I give the house across the street a wary look. He’s still peeking out of his window, now watching me and the old man and his dog. I mentally flip him and his stupid house off.

“Yeah, that’s me.” 

The man nods, following your gaze to the house across the street. “You trying to get into that house?”

You snap your eyes back to him. He’s got a weird combover that’s multiple colors of light brown, grey and blonde. He looks like his dog and he’s saying shit that doesn’t make sense. 

“Get into the hou--no! The man that lives there is constantly staring at me. He walked up and down the street all day yesterday. It’s driving me crazy!”

The Yorkie man eyes you suspiciously, then the house. He licks his lips then shifts on his feet.

 “Y/n, there’s no one living in that house.” 

A chill spider walked down my spine, the hairs standing up on my neck in its wake. My vision shook for a minute as I felt the my world spin a bit quicker. Yorkie Man’s mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out due to the piercingly loud ringing that screamed in my ears. 

“Y/n? Y/n!” Yorkie Man’s voice slowly snapped me back to reality. My vision and hearing both returning to their normal state. I blinked hard. 

“What are you talking about? I’ve seen the fucker every day!” I glare at the house. 

“I’m not sure what to tell you ma’am. No one’s lived in that house for about five years. No one will probably ever live in that house again. Not with what happened.” Yorkie Man pulls his identical looking dog lightly and begins to walk away and I almost let him, but a question lingers in the forefront of my mind and I can’t push it away. 

“What happened in the house?”

Yorkie Man stops and turns his head ever so slightly, “Dude who lived there shot himself. It wasn’t pretty.”

I don’t say anything else and he walks off after my silence grows too long. Slowly, I turn my body to face the house. Maybe someone is squatting in there, living for free in a house that’s most likely haunted. I force myself to think that and right before I turn around, the blinds lift and eyes peek out at me again. 

Fuck this. 

I have trouble sleeping tonight and it fucking sucks because I’m tired and I have work tomorrow. When I do doze off my dreams are dark and filled with dread. Gruesome, bloody and unnerving. I wake up, sitting straight in my bed and realize being awake in this moment isn’t any better than sleeping through the nightmares. 

My window is open and the neighbor from across the street has half of his body inside of my room.

Unable to hold it back, I scream and the intruder slams his head on the top of the open window. 

“Shhh. Shh.” He tries to calm me, but when I keep screaming he raises his voice. “Shut the fuck up, will you!?” He pulls the rest of his body into my room. “People will hear you!” 

I stare at him, dumbfounded and amazed that he thinks I wouldn’t want anyone to hear me. “Good! You’re breaking into my fucking house!”

His shoes make a small tap sound as his feet find the floor. “Number one, I’m not breaking in. Your window was open.” 

He turns to shut it and that’s when I see it. 

The gunshot wound in the back of his head. Wide open and raw like it just happened. 

I scream again as he flips the lock on my window. He rolls his eyes and stomps over to my bed. Calmly, he sits in the edge, and his gaping wound in the back of his head drips blood that doesn’t land anywhere. His hand covers my mouth and I can’t help but jerk back when his ice cold flesh meets my lips. 

“Number two, I’m trying to help you. Save you even.” 

His hand is still over my mouth, but scrunch my nose up and furrow my brow. My head shakes lightly and I shrug as if to silently say what the fuck are you talking about. 

He notices my face and pulls his hand away. 

“You mean you don’t see them?”

“Listen dude.” I lick my lips and they’re still cold from this dead fucker’s freezing cold ghost hands. “All I see is some weirdo in my house with a giant fucking hole in his head. Who the fuck are you and why have you been watching me like a weird ass hawk for the last three days!?”

“Never mind the hole.” Yeah like that’s fucking possible. “And I’ve been watching you because you’re being followed and I’m trying to help you.” He gets up and paces the floor. I try not to look at the hole in his head each time he turns but it’s hard as shit. “And you should be thanking me, y/n.” I mentally note that I haven’t even told him my name yet and he continues. “Because if I had not have been watching you, those fuckers would have drug you straight to hell.”

He stops pacing and I stare at him. This has to be a dream because…what the fuck. After an undetermined amount of silence he gives me an exasperated look, his hands fly into the air in disbelief.

“You mean you don’t even know?”

“Know what?”

“I can’t believe they’d let you walk around the earth and not even tell you. Christ.”

“They who!? Tell me what!? What the hell is going on!?”

I stand up and I want to charge this dude. He looks at me up and down before averting his gaze. I realize I’m only in a t-shirt and panties, so I make a weak attempt and pulling my too short shirt down over my crotch.

Dead Guy McGee pulls open the bottom drawer to my dresser and throws me a pair of sleeping pants before I have a chance to scold him for going through my drawers in the first place. I slide then on and sit on the edge of my bed.

“Dude, just spit it out, what’s the sitch?”

When he gets close, I notice my breath turns icy and I can see it fog up in front of me.

“You’ve got demons following you, y/n, and if we don’t stop them you’ll end up just like me.”

Tags: @imnotoverlyobsessive @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @fashphotolife @chicchanelcigs @scentedkittenperfection @weasleytwinscumslut @timotheel0ver @mxciscastleintheair @marvelmaniac2000 @lovelyrocker @divine-1 @louievr @love-poems-only @starberry-cake @inlovewithphantasy @alexagirlie @misswestfall @softhecreator @livresjaunes @timmymyluv @inannamoon @harrys-thick-thighs @s-we-e-t-t-ea @timolaurence @its-schmackin-dude @justagirlwhoneedshelp

[nowayhomer]

hi! could i request a fic with fem!reader for peter parker (tom's) angst/fluff where peter kept the fact that he was spider-man from her to protect her but is forced to reveal it? u have total creative liberty! love new writers xx

hi !!! tysm for being my first request and giving me a lot of free space to work with,, hope you enjoy <3

protect us

Ⅰ. PAIRING tom!peter x fem!reader

Ⅱ. GENRE angst, fluff ending, you're open to decide if they're platonic or romantic by the end.

Ⅲ. WARNINGS usage of mature language, a minor depiction of gore, self-harm (peter punches walls and willingly lets himself get hurt from it)

Ⅳ. WORD COUNT 2,5k

peter, ned, and y/n were the dynamic trio of midtown high. the three of you practically did everything together, there was just one tally mark under your name when, for once, you had to cancel a plan. usually, peter had racked up the absences with his stark internship, but he never missed anything greatly important. it was to your luck that the night you cancelled was the night ned found out peter was spider-man. 

every day after the secret revelation, peter found himself staring at you with guilt. while he hadn’t intended for ned to know about his superheroics, he felt that you should know, it was only fair. the idea was shot down immediately every time peter thought about it, ‘what if something bad happens to her because of spider-man ? because of me ?’ he played with the spaghetti on his tray before he was brought back to reality. “hey, peter, you good ?” you look at him with concern etched into your features. he hated when you made that face when you worried about him. “i’m fine, just zoned out.” peter gave a dry chuckle and felt the relief set in when he saw your brows curve back into their natural shape. he sat with his back straightened and he ate his lunch slowly, not adding much to the conversation. for peter, most of his conversations had been reduced to spider-man business and it was nice to listen to someone in his life be so blissfully unaware of all the dangers of the superhero life.

peter, however, had failed to recognise the dangers of new york. you were in delmar’s corner store for a bag of chips to snack on during the walk. you were about to hand mr. delmar until the sound of a gunshot made you drop everything and scream. you cowered on the floor, holding your arms over your head. “give me everything you got old man, or the girl gets it.” you were ripped from your fetal position and felt the gold metal of the gun against your temple. The tears poured out of you while mr. delmar shakingly opened the register. your eyes were closed while you prayed for any help to come. it all happened so fast; the gun was no longer pressed against your head, leaving its imprint on your skin. you turned was you heard the loud crack of bones shattering.

for peter, describing his feelings with the single word ‘anger’ was an understatement. peter never wore his suit faster than when he heard the cops call for assistance at delmar’s over the police radio. he swung through the streets, his arms crying as he strained to go faster. he saw the scene through the store windows and instantly recognised you. the sight of the gun against your head as the tears streamed down your face made him belligerent. peter shattered the windows as he flew in. he threw a violent punch at the robber’s jaw. the sight was sickening; his jaw was barely hanging on, and the strings of flesh were thinning as they worked overtime to keep his skull together. the cops ran in to apprehend the criminal and before he could be questioned about his sudden act of brutality, he picked you up and swung to your house. 

peter gently landed on the side of the brick building and hoisted you through your window. he was about to leave before he heard your voice call out to him, “spider-man ?” his heart broke when he heard you sound broken. you sounded nasally as your throat clogged up and your nose ran from sobbing earlier. “please… come inside.” peter just could not say no and he landed with a soft thud on the wood floors of your room. his mind was running a mile a minute, conjuring up every possible scenario and every possible response from you because he knew you like the back of his hand, or so he thought. what came out of your mouth next was a chess play he had not anticipated in the game with you. “you saved me, and i want to call you my hero, but you’re not one.” you slightly backed away from spider-man. you stared at your hands and felt your breaths get ragged as you saw the way your fingers trembled. “you could have killed him. he was a bad guy but no one deserves that and i thought you would know that. i always heard stories of spider-man being a hero but in there… you were someone else… something else. how do you even know where i live, anyway ?” peter watched you through the lenses of his mask, his jaw tensed at the question. “i… look y/n please,” he reached out to you and you moved back, your legs hitting your mattress. “how do you know my name ?” peter was at a loss for words while his brain tried to declutter his jumbled emotions and find a right answer.

‘it’s now or never,’ peter pulled off his mask. he’d imagined this moment so many times and each time he’d dreamt you were excited that your best friend was a superhero because he just knew you would have been. what was unfurling in front of him was the beginning of his worst nightmare. peter saw the way your eyes glazed over, the way your mouth hung open, the way your legs shook and slowly lost the strength to carry your body. you sat on your mattress. “what the fuck… peter, what the fuck is wrong with you ?” you felt your body flare up, the skin across your back itching as the heat of your anger consumed you. peter wasn’t ready to hear what you had to say, but he stayed because even in such a scary moment as this, he wanted more than anything to hear what you had to say.

“i grew up with you, for years i stood by your side and this is what you do to me ? you don’t even clue me in on something this huge ? you were always whispering to ned and you just shut up whenever i came by. i used to think it was about a girl, but you’d always told me about your romantic endeavours so it had to be this, right ? he knew you were spider-man this whole fucking time and you never told me. you don’t trust me, do you peter ?”

“i do trust you, i just couldn’t tell you because you’d be in danger all the time just for being associated with me. i wanted to keep you safe, y/n.”

“keep me safe ? i had a fucking gun pointed at my fucking head peter. not everything revolves around your superhero life; this is the real world, where people get traumatised by a single event on what they think is a normal walk home. how am i supposed to believe you can even keep me safe after what you did to that guy ? you brutalised him, his jaw was literally hanging by threads of his flesh and you want to talk to me about ‘keeping me safe' ?”

‘i know what i did. i couldn’t control myself when i saw what that bastard was doing to you. i was just angry and i did what i could to get him away from you. you mean so much to me and i wanted to rescue you, to protect you as i’ve always been trying to do.”

“peter, being a monster doesn’t protect me, it satiates an evil in you. it was scary to see you like that and, i don’t want to see that ever again.”

“i promise, i won’t ever use my powers to hurt someone again.” peter reach his hand out to hold yours, but you moved it away. “I don’t want to see you anymore. please, get out.” peter felt like his skeleton had been ripped from his body and he was a mess of goo on the floor. he left without a word, not wanting to upset you anymore and he understood that. 

peter had given up the heroics after what happened. his suit never saw the light because there was so much darkness stained on it. the fabric held memories like water; his right glove stored his sin in the threads. his mask’s intricacy was once inspiring, but now the web designs felt like they represented the spread of your emotions since finding out: horror, anger, disappointment.

he was met with trouble in everyday tasks. peter could barely hold his beakers steady in chemistry class because of his bloodied knuckles. he spent his free time punching the dumpster in alleyways, slowly losing his healing abilities. he watched you from afar and felt himself get weaker; he was wearing his glasses again and each sit up in p.e. felt painful.

you were in your room, counting and recounting the stipples on the popcorn ceiling, each time losing focus and restarting your count. you spent most of your time thinking about peter and what had happened. your memories shifted from the time peter would defend you in school from bullies at the cost of his own reputation to the time peter ruthlessly struck a man’s jaw. you thought about how he could have sent the bottom half of that man’s skull flying; at that moment peter still showed some restraint. ‘was that enough ?’ you thought. sure, spider-man was a hero to many, at one point, you had looked up to him too, but if peter couldn’t control himself when it came to you then how could you possibly consider being around him ?

that’s what all of your thoughts boiled down to how you affected peter. you spent more time considering distancing yourself from him because if you were no longer important to him he can be the good-hearted hero that’s taken new york by storm. 

peter was walking out of the alley, completing the only task he could bring himself to do daily. he collided with someone; he barely stumbled back while the other had fallen to the ground. peter reached out with his good hand and helped them up, “sorry, i–” he went rigid. you stared at the face in front of you, both of your hands still holding the other. you were the first to talk, “peter, we need to talk.” 

the walk together created a bubble around them, blocking out the sounds of the cars honking and people yelling to create an uncomfortable silence between them. peter unlocked the door of his apartment and let you inside. the two of you had spent so many days of your lives in peter’s room with ned, the three of you were the happiest kids on earth. when you entered his room, the light the room once had seemed to have faded. peter’s room was a mess, homework that was due weeks ago was strewn across the floor, and his posters were taken down and in a messy pile with his slightly dusty suit on top of them. “sorry about the mess,” peter clumsily moved across the room and you caught a glimpse of the knuckles of his left hand. you noticed he had recently started wearing bigger sweaters and now knew it was to cover his hands. you brought his hand up to your eyes, “peter,” your heart broke at the sight. peter watched you move towards the first aid kit he left on his desk, rummaging through it to find alcohol wipes and bandages. you were careful with his wounds, each hiss of pain was a signal for you to be more delicate. with peter’s newly bandaged hand, he led you to sit on the bed next to him.

“i thought about you, about spider-man. i was the reason you did something like that, so,” you sighed and played with the neckline of your shirt, “i thought it would be best if we aren’t friends anymore. i can't be someone that important to you for you to attack the people you’re supposed to stop. maybe if we keep our distance, i’ll fade out of existence to you and you can be a hero again.” you couldn’t bare looking at him, yet you knew what he looked like.

 peter’s eyes watered and his jaw was tense. he pulled his hair and stood up abruptly, “you think that’ll solve it, do you ? do you even know why i’ve been doing this to myself ?” he pushed his wrapped hand to your view. you watched him quietly. “i’ve been beating myself up every single day over how we just ended all of a sudden. i gave up being spider-man because i couldn’t put on the suit without thinking about how scared you were of me. i never told you i was spider-man because i didn’t want you to worry about me or get involved with some fucking supervillain. ned only found out on accident, it’s never been about who i trust more or less. you don’t know how happy i was to see you every day with a smile on your face, not worrying about how badly i’d been beaten up as spider-man, and now you want to just leave me in the dust to protect me ? ever since we stopped talking, my powers have barely worked. my strength is near gone, i can’t stick to walls, and i can’t heal the way i used to. i’ve been the worst i’ve ever been without you, if you’re gone for good…” 

you held peter in a tight hug as he cried on your shoulder. he pulled away to look at your face, and analyse your reactions before continuing, “i’m so sorry for scaring you and i never felt guiltier. i’ve even been visiting the guy in the hospital as a volunteer to try and at least make up for what i did in the only way i could.” you pulled him back into the hug, finding some comfort against his chest. “i promise i won’t leave you again.” 

days turned to weeks as you and ned sat in front of a computer and spoke to peter over comms. peter's powers returned as his life repaired itself. spider-man was a greater hero than he was before, growing his skills, exercising restraint, and he credited all his work to his two best friends. 

peter swung to your window and knocked on the glass and watched you open it to let him in. “what’s wrong ? are you okay ?” you gave him no time to respond as you held his right arm up to check for any injuries on his side. “i’m fine,” he pulled his arm away, “i just wanted to say thank you. you stood by me after seeing me at my lowest, helped me be the best spider-man i can be, the best peter i can be.” you smiled and held his hand. “of course. while you’re protecting new york, i'll be here protecting us. you know that might make me a superhero of some sort.” you end the sentiments with a joke and peter laughs, “you’ve definitely been my superhero.”

[forensic420]

hi!! (i finally found the ask button lolol) could i ask for something of prebrand/future noah or firebrand (whichever you'd like to write for more)?? it could be literally anything, i just need content of them cuz they're comfort characters for me :^D

thank u!!

yeah well how about i give u both 😎

Firebrand Noah

You see him in mirrors and reflections. Little notes and trinkets appearing around your house and in your belongings. He had a special way of showing he cared, either that being messages written in a cryptic language or random bruises and marks. Firebrand is an observer, always looking at you with a plain face and following eyes.

“You okay, hun?” You’d ask, looking over your shoulder while doing some other task only to see him standing in a dimly lit corner watching you. You can see he’s embarrassed and looks around frequently before he’s walking out the nearest entrance. “Okay..” Said you with a low voice.

Prebrand Noah

At this point you’re practically sobbing on your knees. You had lost Noah somewhere around the boardwalk about an two hours ago. It had only taken a giant spider for you to breakdown and cry for Noah. You whimper and fall back when you notice the worn out shoes in front of you. Looking up you find to see a man, more specifically a shaggy looking Noah with short hair and bangs.

“Noah..?” You ask, voice horse. He examines you, noticing your tear stained face and bloody hands. “Somewhat.” He responds, his voice is higher than Noah’s. You wobbly stand up, keeping your eyes on him. Prebrand searches around his satchel before taking out some bandages, which are worn out at all hell. He places them in your palm and grasps your hands, staring at you. “Take care I guess…Y/N” Is all he says before releasing your hands and walking down the rest of the boardwalk before disappearing around a corner.

[peterthepark]

Could I request a Andrew Garfield Peter Parker x reader where reader gets kidnapped as someone trying to hurt Spider-Man with a happy or happyish ending?

here u go love! hopefully i brought it into fruition :)

take me home

pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

tags: kidnappings, depictions of violence and blood, wounds, kinda angsty kinda fluffy, husband!peter, mentions of anxiety and loss, happy ending, she/her prns, mentions of God and church, venom and symbiote

summary: peter doesn’t know where y/n has gone and deals with the aftermath of trying to locate her.

note: sorry this took forever to get up bb!!! enjoy! trying out a diff pov for this one :)

missing out? ➤ my masterlist

The place is cold. It’s almost as if a storm has come through — a shattered window, the fist-shaped hole in the wall, the fallen vase that once held a bouquet of roses, and the torn photo of her and Peter that once hung above the fireplace mantle. It invokes tears into his vision, and suddenly, he finds himself unable to breathe in the space of his own home.

Home.

How could it be home if Y/N wasn’t here?

Peter balls his fists into the knitted blanket on the couch, shutting his eyes to inhale her lingering perfume. He wishes it were a dream, that she would walk into the room at this moment and greet him with a sweet kiss to commemorate his return from patrol, to tell him that the house was just a mess and he had nothing to worry about — he always worried. Peter thinks of her warm hands, the softness of her palms, her gaze of unconditional love. He imagines her sitting in his lap as they rest in their big red armchair, eating nothing but bowls of cereal and making fun of each other as they watch TV. But as he opens his heavy eyelids to stare at the doorway to the living room with diminishing optimism, he realizes that she, in fact, isn’t going to come back at all. Someone had been here, and someone had stolen his home from him.

The tearful boy has no choice but to push those emotions aside, struggling to catch his breath as he began eyeing the state of their house. He needs to focus if he wanted to find Y/N. The study room is the worst out of all; the papers she had been grading for the past week were scattered across the hardwood floor, the desk was no longer upright, the bookshelf was indented — he winces at the thought of her needing to put up a fight — and the novel Y/N had been reading was decorated with drops of blood. His gloved hand brushes over it, and he shudders at the knowledge of her being hurt.

He avoids calling her mother or father, not wanting to worry them until he knows what happened here. His steps are quick as he scans the house once again. Peter’s throat tightens at the sight of the doorknob to their bedroom, and his worried eyes finally widen as he realizes who — what took Y/N.

The black thick liquid swirls around the brass knob. Peter doesn’t hesitate any longer, barreling out the front door and swinging out onto the streets like second nature.

He knew Eddie Brock had been holed up in some Catholic church right outside of the city. And he also knew that Brock was losing control of the venomous symbiote within him, blinded by hatred for Spider-Man and the world around him.

What better way to taunt the hero than to take the love of his life?

Peter doesn’t bother to make a silent entrance. His gracefulness and suave as Spider-Man has vanished by the time he opens the double doors to the church with a shout, sweat accumulating beneath the confines of his mask.

“Eddie!” He yells with tears in his eyes, voice cracking as he doubles over. His hands rest on the tops of his thighs, and he finds himself bordering on insane at the emptiness of the building and the echo of his broken voice. His chest feels tight, like anytime his whole body would collapse and the hero tears his mask away from his head.

The crucifix at the front of the church is nothing but a mockery. Peter can’t look at it.

If God was real, then how could He let Y/N face this alone?

Peter freezes at the shuffling noise behind the altar. He turns quickly, shooting a web out once he feels the familiar shiver of his spine.

“Darling?” The choked sound has his bones trembling.

Y/N peeks out from behind the marble fixture. He lets out a garbled sigh, and rushes over to embrace his lover. Up close, he studies the purplish bruises surrounding Y/N’s right eye, the bloody split of her bottom lip, and the huge gash along her abdomen.

“Oh, Y/N.” Peter cries, kissing into the tangles of her hair. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Pete, he’s still here.” She croaked, looking up at him with fearful and terrified eyes. “He said he wants to kill you.”

Almost like Eddie had been waiting for the right moment, he emerges from the shadows. The contrasting black suit to the Spider-Man one makes Peter’s soft features harden.

“I thought you said you’d leave Y/N out of this.”

“I said a lot of things, Peter.” Eddie shrugs. Peter winces at the drops of dark liquid falling from his fingertips. “Just be thankful you aren’t a widower tonight.”

Peter grows mad.

Y/N moans painfully under Peter’s touch, kicking out her legs as he applies pressure to the stomach wound. He takes his eyes off Eddie briefly, searching her face. “Apply pressure. You’ll be okay. I love you.”

She nods through shut-eyes, whispering the declaration of love under her breath as she clutches her torn blouse.

The blood stains the wedding band on her finger.

Peter doesn’t speak to Eddie any longer.

A couple punches are thrown, grunts ringing through the church as the colors of the sacred stained glass cast over Venom and Spider-Man.

Eddie is much stronger than him, but Peter is quick and agile. His only goal was to get Y/N out of here safely — out of here alive.

To take her home.

Peter evades the monster quickly, weaving in and out from between its legs and over its shoulders to keep him in a tight chokehold. The spider is thrown onto the altar, cracking the marble in half as he coughs out blood from the impact. He searches for Y/N in the chaos, seeing his wife behind one of the tall pillars, watching with slumped shoulders and a broken form as she struggles to stand. Peter rolls away before the symbiote can crush him, sliding behind the altar. He effortlessly picks up the broken pieces of marble, throwing it at the monster in defense.

The collision sends Venom flying backwards, and the stone clashes over its head as a result of Peter’s fear and anger. He’s out cold, and the hero takes the moment of vulnerability to scoop Y/N into his strong arms.

“Is he dead?” She whispers as Peter relieves her of walking, shooting a web outside the open window by one of the pews.

“You’re gonna be okay now. I’ve got you.”

“Are you alright?”

“I should be asking you that.”

By the time Peter gets to the house, Y/N is unconscious. His worry doesn’t reach the extreme, since he can still hear her shallow and wheezy breaths, plus the slow heartbeat in her ribcage.

He lays her down on the couch, like she had done many times to him before. Fishing out the first-aid kit from beneath the coffee table, his clumsy hands dig through for sutures and bandages. He rids her of the bloodied shirt, kissing at her forehead as she stirs at the movement.

“Thank you, Peter.” She mumbles, hissing as Peter cleans the bloody slash.

“For what?” He whispers, meeting your gaze for a second.

“For saving me. Like you always do. I was so scared that something would happen if — if you came. Part of me wished that you wouldn’t just in case he’d try to harm you.”

Peter tugs his lip between his teeth. “Y/N, I will always be there to protect you. No matter what. Even if it hurts me, as long as you’re okay, it’ll make it all better.” He presses his nose against Y/N’s hand before moving to kiss the ring on her finger. “You have my life. You are my life. I vowed to save you the moment I met you.”

“And the moment you married me.” She smiles down at him, letting her hand tousle with the curls in his hair. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” He tears his eyes away from her face, focusing on stitching up the gnarly wound.

Peter feels at home now.

And fulfilled, knowing that he would get to spend another day with Y/N And another. And hopefully more.

After all, home is where the heart is.

And his heart was hers.

-

[leggerefiore]

▽Drider Emmet△

so since multiple people are down for monster hcs... you get them... would u be interested in like mothman ingo as well

○ He, naturally, takes his arachnidian features from Galvantula. Living in abandoned areas of the city or deep within Chargestone cave depending on whether he's close to a mating cycle. He tends to get a bit violent unconsciously during that period, so he prefers to spend it alone in a dark cave. (Ingo still visits him because even in a more feral mindset, he knows his twin isn't a competitor in that way. They are still identical twins, but for some reason only he got the dominant spider genes.) When he's in the city, however, he tends to hide better as hybrids aren't exactly favoured. Especially ones with such an unsettling combination.

○ He takes on orphaned Joltiks as his own spiderlings as spoils them rotten. A few genuinely believe he fathered them biologically. Emmet did not, but deeply appreciates the affection. If you see a large amount of Joltiks within an area of Nimbasa, that means he's nearby. What you do with that information is on you. He wants biological children desperately, but finding a willing mate is extremely difficult. (Elesa and Ingo are out putting up posters, “Are YOU interested in spiders? Would YOU like to kiss a very special spider? Contact us here…”)

○ Like Galvantula, his silken web can have electrical charge. This can be used to a variety of effects… Do be careful, a sticky, net designed to fully paralyzed and immobilise isn't a very fun way to spend your weekend. He's mostly immune to electrical charge, so he might not even realise to web is zapping things. His fur can also be shot out from the spider portion of his form, this also is electrified. This is why he isolates during a cycle; he will likely take someone out unintentionally.

○ Whether you meet him through the strange advertisements posted or just wandering into him and going “oh, neat”. Emmet is ecstatic you aren't terrified of him as most people take a single glance at him before running away screaming. It really hurts him because everyone says he has such a friendly face before they notice his more monstrous features. You sit carefully on his (not electrically charged) web he spun for you and chat casually.

○ It was most unexpected to find a spider hybrid who desires to be a conductor, but you suppose we all have dreams. You remember his brother actually is a conductor, too. (There's an awful joke made, “But you already conduct electricity, Emmet!” He stared at you with soulless eyes and a kind smile.) He proceeds to go into a tirade about trains and different engine types. Then he goes into hypothetical engine types. You begin to realise that his spider hybrid state is literally the only thing preventing this man from achieving his true calling.

○ If you stick around long enough, and he grows interested in you romantically, you're offered a special Joltik he raised from an egg. It's terribly sweet, but please don't take them unless you plan to actually involve yourself like that with him. He's terribly sad if you reject him and may disappear for a short while to work his emotions over. Part of him knows how precious friends are, but another truly has come to love you.

○ Should you agree, however, you are squeezed into a loving embrace while his body vibrates from the sudden increase in electrical power. Emmet is elated to finally have a mate and talks about how he's going to attempt to make you something from his silk. (He makes… a blanket. Anyone who visits your home asks why it smells like spiders. You say nothing wrapped in the lovely gift. It's terribly warm despite the musk.)

○ Move him into your home, and you obtain a spider househusband. He cooks very well and cleans anything that doesn't involve taking down his webs. Have fun, he whines like you're hurting him when you have to. You come home from a long day of work to be cuddled by your boyfriend who coos and caws over every little thing. (At night, Emmet may try to cocoon you. Keep a sharp object handy for freedom because he sleeps in.)

18+ under cut, take precaution!

cw: spider fucking, bondage of sorts and, well, eggs, AFAB reader

○ He warns you of his cycle and how he gets. If you want, he'll leave. Tell him to stay, however, and you best ask for the time off. It's impossible to leave when he keeps blocking off the door. It's a fire hazard, you tell him. He stops promptly and attempts to bind you instead. His face is always flushed while he needs a hand on you constantly. The Joltiks have long since left the room he's hunkered down in.

○ You can choose your bed or his web, either way he restrains you in some way. You're down for it, however; you have chosen to fuck a spider, after all. He's tearing up and terribly hot as he presses his body close to your own. Kisses are placed over every centimetre of skin while he asks if you're truly alright. You wonder how badly he'd whine if you told him to stop. His six eyes stare adoringly at you.

○ You've been alerted to the eggs, and you're informed they don't magically go away overnight. (Ingo gave you this talk like that was a normal thing to do.) So, you're basically about to become pregnant for a shorter term. Something about that is kinda hot. Emmet positions his ovipositer carefully and checks again to make sure you certain. This is the point of no return. You nod, and the alien length is gently pushed inside. He cries out with unexpected loudness. You moan out as it completely stuffs you. There's still so much that can't fit. He begins to thrust, and your brain just stops functioning for a moment.

○ He makes strange clicking noises alongside human moans and groans while you just cry from the foreign pleasure he's giving you so readily. You're going to cum a few times before he even begins to lay the eggs; walls beckoning his actions. Emmet's smile turns extremely venomous as the first egg travels down the shaft. Your body's first instinct is to reject the precious young, but the pressure from the ovipositer and your weakened state from multiple orgasms passes that over quickly. It's laid deep inside your body with a warm gush of liquid. Another is following not long after, then a third and a fourth and a fifth. You're an absolute mess from the sensation and Emmet is pressing loving kisses to your neck and murmuring reassurances.

○ One of his hands rubs your swelling stomach as his eggs come faster and faster down the shaft. You cum again from the sudden bombardment, which moves the eggs quicker once again. You look heavily pregnant by the time he's finished pumping you full of his young. One last gush of warm liquid has you cry out from overstimulation. His ovipositer is retracted, and he's cooing over how full you are. You're, unfortunately, a bit brain-dead at the moment. You feel him begin to cocoon you as he usually does during the night. “Sleep, darling,” he spindles his web across your chest, careful not bind you too tightly (as to not hurt his growing young or you), “I'll take care of everything you'll need.”

[spicler-man]

uncle rhodey fic recs

masterlist here

Father & Son by peterparkr for ephemeralstark

Rhodey’s certain about two things. The kid is definitely Tony’s son. The kid is also Spider-Man.

OR

Rhodey meets Peter and tries to become the best uncle that he can be.

carpool introductions by sapphirestark

“It’s - it’s nice to meet you too, Colonel Rhodes, sir. I’m Peter. Uh, Parker.”

“I heard.” Rhodey smiled. Well, teenage Tony had certainly never been this polite. “Just call me Rhodey, kid.”

“O-okay, Rhodey.” Peter’s timid smile transformed into a grin. Rhodey decided he would definitely rub that in Clint’s face the next time he claimed Rhodey wasn’t good with kids.

“Are you kidding me?” Tony interrupted from the driver’s seat. “He’s Rhodey after two minutes and you’re still calling me 'Mr Stark'?”

Revelations by Angeeelatin

When Peter Parker had crash-landed into their tiny little circle and promptly made himself a home, it was obvious that everyone had had to change and adapt to the new circumstances a little.

It was a process and a half but by the end, Peter Parker had slotted himself into their small little family quite nicely, as if he was always there.

This process, however, wasn't something that Rhodey had consciously done.

Or: Peter Parker and his relationship to the Iron Family as seen through the eyes of James Rhodes

boundaries by OnlyForward

in colonel james rhodes’ expert opinion, there were three things that people needed to know when it came to tony stark. the real people, not the journalists: the people who knew him, spent time with him. tony had boundaries, and they were sacred boundaries, not to be crossed.

rhodey has never seen someone be able to break these boundaries. at least, not until peter parker.

"I have a nephew!" by zimnokurw

After six long days of a business trip, Tony comes back home to his not-son-but-totally-a-son and Rhodey gets the pleasure to witness it.

A Big Heart by honestmischief

The thought of Mr. Rhodes sitting alone in his hospital room made Peter feel uneasy, even though they had only exchanged a few words to each other in Germany. It didn’t feel right for Peter to do nothing.

Allston Christmas by Gruoch (orphan_account) for sagemb

“You guys didn’t have to do this,” Peter says from where he sits squeezed into the middle seat of the U-Haul, sweat running down his back. The air-conditioning in the truck they’ve rented is broken, and even with the windows rolled down it’s hellishly hot inside. “Really. I could have handled it myself.”

“We wanted to,” Tony replies as he blasts the horn at a minivan with a “Harvard Mom” bumper sticker that is attempting to cut into his lane. “It’s like a little trip down memory lane. It’s nostalgic—it’s gonna be fun. Right, Rhodey?”

“Absolutely,” Rhodey agrees, with all the enthusiasm of a man being lead to the gallows.

a drunken ode to peter parker by indexofangels for TheOceanIsMyInkwell

“You’re an emotional drunk,” Rhodey says. Rhodey has his arms straight in the air and he’s staring at his hands like they’re deeply puzzling to him.

“Nuh uh,” Tony says, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “You just. You don’t get it.”

“I do get it,” Rhodey says. “I speak Tony language, and Tony language says that you… um, you love the kid. That’s what.”

“I do not!” Tony yelps. “I hate him! A scourge on my life and soul! I cannot stand his squeaky shoes and his stupid big ears!” Tony takes a deep breath and then delicately screams. “Who let him have such big ears, he’s going to fall over when it’s windy there are sailboats with sails smaller than his ears.”

Rhodey lets his arms flop down onto his chest and turns his head on the floor. Tony can hear the bumps in his skull rolling on the linoleum. “Man,” he says. “You love that kid so much it’s disgusting.”

decidedly dad-like behaviour by RandomRuth for Author_Incognito

“Something came up,” Tony says. “I had to make a detour on my way to our lunch meeting. I’m sorry you’re gonna miss those bacon sandwiches you like but…” Tony trails off and jerks his thumb, indicating the back seat.

Rhodey twists around and jumps. “Holy shit,” he says, just shy of shouting it.

(In which Tony is late for lunch with Rhodey and there's a good reason for it.)

(A one-shot that has turned into a one-shot series.)

brighten up, sunshine by iron_spider for killerqueenwrites

Rhodey doesn’t know what the hell to think, and Tony doesn’t give him any reason to stop as time moves on. The kid is always there, and he starts showing up at family dinners, Rhodey meets his aunt, and they actually pick him up from school a couple times when Happy gets sick. Rhodey pays close attention and no, Tony doesn’t treat any of the other interns like this, and Rhodey has to accept what his head has been trying to tell him all along. Actually, legitimately accept it. Visualize the word and link it to Tony and link it to Peter.

This is Tony’s kid.

Repeat After Me by battybatzgirl

Tony’s face hardens as he says, “What kid.” “I don’t know, some twelve year old—” Below him, the kid coughs out, “Fifteen.” “—Fifteen year old—” Tony scrubs a hand across his face. “Don’t tell me he’s wearing a dorky shirt with a chemistry pun on it.” Rhodey frowns. That was oddly specific. Glancing down, he looks at what little he can see of the kid’s shirt—which isn't much since there’s so much blood now, but what could be once called a cartoon joke is printed on it. “Um, yeah?” “Son of a bitch.”

Otherwise known as how Rhodey finds out about how old Peter is, and how badly he needs to beat Tony with a stick.

the child (born to be a light) by aimingarrows

Tony is watching Peter when the realization hits him like a speeding train.

“I want kids, Rhodey.”

“What?” Rhodey coughs, his eyes blown wide as Tony turns to look at him, “Where the hell did that come from?”

Tony’s eyes slide over to Peter.

Wingman by sahiya

Holy shit, Rhodey thought. Tony’s a dad.

It's not a big deal--My Dad's just a superhero by AimAim94 for XiaoTYY

(no summary)

The Same Soul by KatinaMoon

Rhodey admittedly doesn't know a lot about this kid that Tony not-so-secretly loves, this kid that seems to spend more time at the Tower then not. He'd meant to, he'd wanted to, spend more time with Peter and learn what had made him so special that Tony, of all people, had gobbled him up.

Not like this, though.

Better Than I Was by Sara (ctrsara)

Hey Rhodey :-) Hey Pepper :-) When are you going to come see us again? It’s been weeks. You know how Tony gets. Yeah, that’s the funny thing. I know it’s been a while, but he’s only been mildly annoying instead of increasingly demanding and whiny. What gives? Oh, I might know something about that. You gonna share with the class? He’s been busy being a role model. We talking about the same Tony? Is this about that intern he mentioned? --------------

Rhodey makes it down to the Tower for a visit, and to meet the "intern" Tony has been so busy with, and is surprised by what he finds there.

Part of the post-Homecoming series "Strands in the Rope," but stands alone, also.

The Concerning Hypotheticals by emmedoesntdomath

Peter Parker (Tony’s Intern): so Peter Parker (Tony’s Intern): hypothetically speaking Peter Parker (Tony’s Intern): how would one go about removing a bullet from themselves Peter Parker (Tony’s Intern): bc google is surprisingly lacking in ideas

As it turns out, having a bullet in your leg is worrying.

5 times Rhodey solved a Tony crisis by KatinaMoon 

+1 he didn't have to

the human equivalent of a radio by KatinaMoon 

Rhodey makes a gasping sound that he's sure Tony can hear. "Oh, fuck," he repeats. "Fuck. Spider-Man. You hurt?"

Of course he is. Of course. Rhodey can see the damage, the blackened material of the kid's suit. The way he's swaying on his feet.

Rhodey just shot him. Just shot Tony's kid.

Are you sure he’s not yours? by for_the_night 

“Was it your idea to put my kid in your suit?” Tony demanded when he finally reached the lab, seeing Rhodey’s suit disengage.

Rhodey's eyebrows shot up. “Your kid?”

“Huh?” He glanced at Peter and back again. “You know he’s not my kid. He’s my kid but he’s not.”

“I don’t know, I only met him an hour ago.”

Tony blinked. “What?”

Or: Peter meets Rhodey for the first time. Needless to say it’s chaotic.

So Far So Good by Derpmallow 

"I'm not a maniac, Peter."

"Diggity denial! I love it." A young voice shouts from across the lab. Rhoedy stares. What the fuck?

"Denial?" Tony shouts, head popping up from behind a workbench. "Peter, my dearest intern, I'll have you know I pay you too much for this kind of sass." The kid makes a face and he taps the table, inspecting his robot. Tony throws a tool to the boy, Peter, apparently, who catches with ease without looking up.

Or, Rhodey meets Peter Parker. He decides being a cool uncle is a not a want, but a need.

[justabunchofproblems]

It’s cold outside || tasm! Peter Parker x male reader

hello there ! it’s me again :D

this was requested by @bigassbisaster (idk if I wrote you username right, sorry). i hope you like it ! :)

Warning : none, it’s only just fluff. friends to lovers disclaimer : gif is from Pinterest. the story is an original one. maybe something like this have already been made, if so, i don’t know about it. again, english is not my mother tongue ! i’m still learning it so, if u see any mistakes or misspelled sentences, pls tell me nicely in the comments or by private message. enjoy ! :)

It has been snowing all day and the streets of New York we’re completely white. It was already dark outside, due to the winter and of course, the weather was very cold. (Y/N) was in his room, singing the song he was listening to while doing homework. Suddenly, there was a knock at his window which made him jumped and looked directly at it. He met eyes with Spiderman or as he had always knew him, Peter Parker, his best friend. As (Y/N) got up from his desk chair, he rolled his eyes at the superhero and opened the window.

"What are you doing here ? it’s bloody cold outside !"

"Yeah, you’re right, can I come in please ?"

"Of course you can, hurry before you start to transform into an iceberg."

Peter did not last any second and went inside the room, already feeling better and (Y/N) quickly closed the window. The hero sat on the bed as the smaller one took a bunch of blankets too put on his friend’s shoulder before sitting next to him.

"What were doing outside with this weather ?" (Y/N) asked, worrying about the spider.

"I wanted to see you, actually. I need to talk to you about something."

Peter looked at the ground for a moment and a silence fell between the two boys. The smaller one finally broke it by urgently standing up.

"Okay, I’m gonna cook us something to warm you up and then, we’ll talk. Deal ?"

Peter’s only answer was to nod and (Y/N) disappeared in the kitchen. His parents weren’t there tonight -actually, they took a weekend off together, knowing their son was responsible enough to stay alone.

He made noodles soup and put it into bowls for him and Peter before going back to the bedroom.

"Here you are !" he said, smiling, giving one bowl to Peter.

"Thank you.” he replied, gladly taking the hot thing is his hand, appreciating the warm coming from it.

Again, a silence fell between the two boys while they were eating. The spider was looking at everything, except his friend, worrying the younger man. When they finished their soup, Peter finally looked at (Y/N).

"So, about this thing I wanted to say to you…" he stopped, suddenly being very hesitant.

What if (Y/N) wasn’t sharing the same feelings ? Then, he felt him take his hand and he relaxed a bit.

"You can tell me anything, Pete. You know that."

Peter took a deep breath and nodded before he started to talk again.

"I think… no, i’m certain of it, actually. I’m in love with you, (Y/N)." he said, looking at his friend, waiting for his reaction.

(Y/N) stayed silent and the spider started to internally panic when the other one said nothing. And then, he suddenly smiled. An happy and warm smile, while he was staring in Peter’s eyes.

"I’m in love with you too, Peter."

For a second, he didn’t believe it, thinking he had dreamed that moment or that maybe it was a bad joke. But when he felt (Y/N)’s lips on his, he knew his new boyfriend was sincere.

After that, they laid together on the bed, sharing the tone of blankets and a warm hug. Then they both fell asleep not long after that.

[ladyvesuvia]

peter parker angst where both peter and reader feel insecure about their relationship???

by nine

PAIRING: peter parker x gn!reader

WORDS: 1.6k

REMINDER(S): wrote this to get out of reading slump. kinda messy. not my best but wtvr anw relationship insecurities. angst no comfort no happy endings i hate happy endings boo hoo go cry about it jk i love my fluff lover babies

A/N: imagine any peter u want life is short be a delusional little bitch

It’s so easy to love a hero. Being with a masked one has its own charm; one being the constant feeling of gratitude and positive disbelief because, after all, you were loving the hero. And he loved you back. You.

But sometimes, the cons outweigh everything else where you’d sometimes find yourself sitting on a chair you forced yourself to carry from the small space you could call the dining room all the way out to your apartment balcony, waiting for a little figure somewhere in the distance swinging from one building to another.

The cake you ordered for yourself had started losing its spark that you took three spoonfuls before deciding your appetite had disappeared.

There was still no sign of the same masked ‘hero.’

“I’ll be there by nine,” he had told you yesterday.

About a couple minutes ago, just a few seconds before nine, you closed your eyes, hoping that when you opened it, a little jumpscare would bring back your appetite.

Nothing had happened. And it’s been quite some time now.

You checked your phone, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man could be a decent enough boyfriend to send a text.

You stood up from your chair, leaning on the railing and checking left and right, looking for any sign of him.

“I’ll be there, alright?” he had told you just the day before. He’d been on the railing you’re now leaning on, and you so badly had wanted to take the mask from his sweaty palms and rip it up. “I promise.”

“Do you really?” The sun was only starting to set yesterday during this exchange, and his smile looked a lot more promising in that light.

“I really,” he nodded aggressively. “Oh, I really, really, really really.”

“Nerd.”

“A nerd who makes promises.”

And here you are, waiting for him to fulfill that promise. You opened your phone, begrudgingly ringing his phone.

“Shitty promises,” you thought to yourself as you checked the time. 21:39.

Are you expecting anything? you asked yourself, slowly antagonizing your own motives and his. Expecting what? For him to press pause on screaming damsels and tell perpetrators to stop their crimes just so he could answer some random person’s phone call?

You ended the call before it could head straight to voicemail. What even was the point anymore? You moved away from the railing, pulling your chair along with you while staring at the other empty chair across the tiny patio table you’d also carried hours ago.

You had come back to pull the other chair you’d brought out for him, but he had just landed on the railing you had just been leaning on a second ago.

He had his mask off, but he still had it crumpled in his hand. You stared at him for a solid three seconds before deciding it wasn’t worth your time, yanking the chair away and carrying it with one hand while using the other to open the door.

“[Y/N]—”

“I can carry it just fine,” you said with no entertainment whatsoever.

“I know it’s late, I’m sorry, but I—”

You dropped the chair as gently as you could so as to not wake anyone. “Was saving the world, what else could it be?”

“I mean, it’s just the city. Sorry. I mean—”

You crossed your arms. “You said you’d be here by—”

Peter scratched his nose with the hand he was holding his mask with, adjusting his seat on your railing. “—Nine, I know. It’s just that—”

“Some cat got stuck up in a tree? Some— I don’t even know anymore! And frankly, I don’t even care. I just want you to be here when you say you will.”

“And I’m here,” he said, his brows furrowing. It’s so strange seeing his face to that thing where he’s at war with himself.

It was the one of the many things that got you all head over heels for him the first time you knew there was more to him than his charm. It had been so funny seeing him get all confused and agitated at the same time for a second in class and looking all genius the second he got the right answer.

“Yeah, like, an hour later. I just want to sleep right now, alright?”

“No, no, let’s celebrate your birthday.” Peter hopped off the railing, his hand on yours before taking the chair with him. He sat down on it, looking at you with those god forsaken terribly convincing eyes you just wanted to be convinced by.

“I don’t even get to hold your hand anymore,” you muttered under your breath. He heard that still.

Peter drew closer, looking up at you as he took your hands into his, and you could only feel the texture of his suit. It feels like a stranger’s.

You looked back at him. He’s waiting for you tk say something, and it took you a long time to realize you’d been waiting for yourself to say something, too.

You obliged. “Do you want to end things? You can just say so.”

“What? No! Why would you—? Do — er — do you?”

“I — it’s not that — it’s just that you say that you’re going to do this but then you don’t and then you say all of this is worth your time and yet you can’t even give me ten minutes—!”

His brows furrowed even more. “I am giving you—”

“No, let me finish,” you say with a louder voice than you had intended before realizing you hadn’t gathered enough words to continue on. You look everywhere else but his eyes. You weren’t gonna do that now.

He’s waiting, and he’s letting you talk. So talk, you told yourself.

You cleared your throat, looking up. “It’s just that” — you swallowed the lump in your throat, your pride staying up, threatening to burst — “you tell me all these . . . these great things and make all these hopeful promises but you’re . . . you’re Spider-Man, y-you know?”

“What do you mean?” The moment his bright demeanor dropped, you knew this wasn’t going to end well. Was this even him? Or is it some other Spider-Man? Some other Peter Parker, perhaps? You looked at him, taking a tiny glimpse to make sure.

It is him. Only that his eyes were shining, and not in the way you wanted it to. Yours were probably shining, too.

See, dating the masked hero of the city is great. Wonderful, even. Nobody knew, of course, but it was the tiny little secret that kept it alive. But it’s also the same one that would kill it.

You saw it coming. Heck, he probably saw it, too.

You took a deep breath.

He stood up. “Let’s just celebrate your birthday, [Y.N], okay?”

You pretend not to see him raising his hand only to put it down.

It was your turn to take a breather. You leaned against the railing, the hum of the busy city doing nothing to relieve you from any of this.

Do I read too much into everything you do? Do you think of anything I do at all? Do you want to end things? Are you just waiting for me to do it?

“No, I can’t— I can’t just get some cake and ‘celebrate’ with you right now, Spi— Peter.” Even his name feels like uncharted territory. You pretend not to have seen him flinch at the uncertainty. “Are we really cut out for this?”

You expected him to try and find his words, ask what it is you thought the two of you were not cut out for, or at least assure you that you were, and that he’d make it up next time.

Anything but “I don’t know.”

You should’ve been angered, you knew that. But you didn’t know, either. “Me too.”

Silence.

You didn’t even realize he was leaning on the railing right beside you, looking out at the city. The only light right now was the inconsistent pattern of condominium room lights open; at least, those not covered by thick linen curtains.

There were also the countless cars passing by, but you paid no mind to the city at this moment because this could be the last time you’d ever see his face again.

“I don’t think we are,” you managed to confess. He only nodded in answer, but there was constant bickering in his head. “I’d say I need more time to think but I . . . I’ve had quite a few to do so and maybe it’s better if we just. . .”

You waited for him to cut you off and disagree.

He didn’t.

He’s made up his mind, hasn’t he?

You took a deep breath once more. “It’s better if we just stay away from each other.”

“For a while?” Peter asked, hopeful.

“No.”

“Oh, I. . .” He looked away. “I’m sorry. Okay. That — that makes sense. I understand.” He didn’t.

You changed your mind. It was easy to love Peter Parker. But loving Spider-Man? Oh, what a tragedy it was. The sometimes reeked of always.

It was always waiting for something, and it was always more tiring than exhilarating. You so badly wanted to ask him why can’t things just go back to the way it was, cry into his chest and deliriously confess that you just wish that spider hadn’t done everybody else in the city a stupid favor and that you just wanted your Peter back.

But that would be too selfish, and so you waited.

“Do you want me to go?” Please tell me no, he thought as he said so.

No. “Yes.”

And just like that, the anonymous hero was gone and with him your best friend.

poosi tight poosi clean poosi fresh ty for getting me out of the slump a bit nonnie i love you