#tasm!peter parker series

[therealflickerman]

Split Lips (tasm!peter parker x reader)

Part four

series summary: Its simple hating peter parker, the cocky asshole who has made it his mission to one up you every chance he gets. In the same vein, its simple loving spiderman, the sweet masked vigilante who has made it his mission to ensure your safety. How simple will it be when the two worlds meet.

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chapter summary: You try your hardest to hide what you can from Peter though you can't help when secrets slip through your fingers.

word count: 6.5k (i cooked a little)

chapter contents: angst?, mention of death, mention of parental death, mention of cancer, reader is described to b shorter than Flash (6’1),  reader is intended to be fem! , language, reader is anxious and a mess, bullying kinda?

note: hi guys!!! This chapter is like INSANELY late but it's also the longest chapter by far so I hope I’ve made it up to you guys… This chapter gets only a little deep but I hope you enjoy how I've written the reader and her mum and I hope I've done the themes justice!!! 

masterlist

series masterlist

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four (ongoing!)

“Maths, History, Bio” the words quietly slip past your lips as you count your textbooks carefully, ensuring each and everyone of them are there. Pressing your forehead against the cool of your locker, your eyes flutter shut and you draw a sharp breath, holding it in for a split second before finally releasing it alongside your jaw, clenched shut almost painfully. You pull away from the safety of the metal, words role over in your mind as you prepare for the day,

BAM

Your locker slams inches from your face. 

The loud bang of metal against metal rings through the busy hallway drawing the attention of a couple stray students, including yourself as you jump back softly, your hands clenching around your textbooks extra tightly as they threaten to slip through your fingers.

Your eyes flick to the perpetrator and you feel your jaw clench as nerves buzz in your fingertips. 

“What Flash,” 

It slips softly past your lips before you can stop yourself and anxiety turns in your gut as you wish you’d simply ignored him.

“I was wondering what you were doing tonight,”

His eyes watch you eagerly, like he’s hungry for the reaction you’ll inevitably give him. 

You swallow the anxiety that grows a lump in your throat and turn to head for the serenity of your History class. You have to remind yourself that he wants the reaction, he’s starving for it. 

He’s quick to follow you, sending a look to his friends that gather in a circle a little way across the hall. You hear the familiar sound of soft snickers and you feel your cheeks heat up. 

Trying your hardest to keep a poker face you press your lips into a tight line, you’d rather set yourself on fire than give Flash a reaction to laugh about with his stupid friends. 

“I know you’re probably super busy with all those friends you have, so I just wanted to check,”

His lips curl into a shit-eating grin, you fight an expression that threatens to grow on your face. You won’t give him the satisfaction, you entirely refuse. 

Keeping focused on the goal of your History classroom, you swerve through the other students that crowd the halls.

“C’mon,”

He just about corners you against the lockers as you walk shoulder to shoulder with them, dribbling his basketball he follows closely, the sound rings out obnoxiously much as his voice does. 

You can’t seem to find your voice, you keep your eyes ahead and continue on track, praying silently for him to leave you alone, the interaction turns our gut and you slip your lip between your teeth where it belongs. 

“C’mon, stop walking away from me,” 

His voice raises slightly, his hand coming out in front of you and you’re quick to stop in your tracks. His palm leans against the locker as he looks down at you through his eyelashes. He waits eagerly for a reaction, practically starved for it. 

You kiss your teeth with a clench of your jaw, as you try to slip from the barrier he’s created and a laugh bubbles from his chest as you hand feed him what he’s been waiting for. 

“Flash,”

A shot of relief floods your veins, it’s sweet, almost addictive, and your eyes seek the face to match that voice you know all too well. 

“Can’t you see we’re talking Parker,”

Flash shoots Peter a grin, not particularly concerned with convincing him of anything.

“Does she know that?”

Peter asks, his tone sardonic. 

Flash rolls his eyes, kissing his teeth as he turns to look at his surroundings. A frustrated sigh bubbles in his chest as he opens his mouth to say something before shutting it with a clench of his jaw, not bothered to start anything especially as so many teachers roam the halls, rushing students to their classes. 

He turns back to you, sending a wink as he slips away, quick to walk back to his friends that await him. It’s as if they crave the humiliation they give other people, it’s their life source and you feel gross just thinking about it. 

A soft groan slips past your lips, “thank you.”

He offers a shrug, a smile sat upon his lips as he watches you. His gaze is sweet, it's night and day compared to Flash’s hungry eyes. Your feet scuff against the vinyl as you slip next to him, far less eager to get to class this time around. 

“He will just not leave me alone you know? It’s kind of getting embarrassing on his part, like he does the same bit everyday. I don’t think he has a whole lot going on up there, not super creative.” 

You mumble softly, a grin slipping onto your face, Peter shakes his head with a laugh. 

“I’m pretty sure he’s got a little brain damage from all that sport so don’t take it to heart,”

He draws a giggle from your lips, “I don’t think I’ve ever taken anything he’s said to heart.”

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you make it to class. Words roll around on your tongue, you fight to push them out. 

“I was thinking maybe you’d wanna…  would you wanna study again tonight?” The words slip out. 

The two of you had spent many afternoons of the past week at the library, your noses between books, studying your hearts out before grabbing coffee, if you're honest it’s the most productive you’ve been in a long while. You hate to give him his praise but having someone as genius as Peter to bounce ideas off of has opened a whole new playing field and you’re not sure you can go back to ten minute mind blanks and groans of frustration. 

On the other hand you’ve never been more busy in your typically lacklustre life, you feel a bit like Spiderman yourself with all the running around you’ve found yourself managing. It was school, then work, or study, or both. Then home, just in the nick of time, all for Spiderman to swing you through the city before returning you to your bed at some ungodly hour. It was… nice, at least it was exciting, something vastly different compared to the eat, sleep, school repeat you’ve known for the past few years of your life. 

“Yeah of course, I was gonna ask anyway, so-”

“Maybe you could… um come to my place instead of the library?”

You spit out, cutting Peter off.

“My mums gonna be home, like, kinda early tonight so she’s um… making, like, a nice dinner and I thought you could join us?”

The words flow quickly and you’re unable to stop them as they spew from your lips, 

“I’d love to,”

He hums, a soft smile curling onto his lips

“I’m sure you would, ‘can put my address in your stalker journal,”

A scoffed laugh spits from his lips as his grin grows.

“How do you know I don’t already know where you live,”

“I’d be a little worried if you already knew where I lived,”

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Your foot taps rapidly against the concrete floor, a spit of anxiety turning in your stomach as your eyes dart around the city. ‘Please god do not show up,’ you watch with furrowed eyes for a flash of red and blue. 

“You waiting on someone?”

The voice rips you from your contraction and you jump slightly as you turn to find Peter and his stupid grin

“Only you,”

You swallow the lump in your throat and a smile plays across your face. 

“How was photography?”

Your eyes flick to his face, watching him as the two of you make the slow walk to the subway. 

“Good,” he hums with a smile, “I got an A+ on that assignment,” he shrugs his shoulders as if it were nothing, though you personally know he’d practically pulled his hair out with stress over it. 

“Look at you go, Mr Humble,” you nudge him softly, “bet you picked the photo I told you to go with,” 

You lend him a grin and he can’t help but roll his eyes.

“That is a possibility.”

“Hey, you’ll… you’ll tell me if Flash bothers you more?”

Peter mumbles softly, he swallows, feeling stupid as the question slips from his lips, though it spills anyway.

You watch his face, giving him a suspicious eye as a grin tugs at your lips. 

“You gonna do something about it?”

He rolls his eyes, his head shaking,“I might.” 

You hum suspiciously with a nod and it's followed by a giggle. 

“Hey you don’t know what I’m capable of,”.

“I know Flash is, like, a six foot one athletic scholar,” 

He leans his softly, “yeah but I have something he doesn’t,”

“What would that be Peter?”

“A brain.” 

You roll your eyes and push his face away with the palm of your hand. 

The sound of the city seeps into the subway carriage, it’s fairly empty and just about silent besides the racket of Peter’s voice as he talks of his next photography assignment, very passionately if you may add. He thinks it's stupid that they grade photography, he believes art is immeasurable, whether he’d simply rather an easier class or is genuinely passionate about the topic you can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips as he rambles. Either way it ‘isn’t like he has room to complain, the fact that it is in fact graded means he gets to be top of his class’, you roll your eyes as he tells you he’s only joking. 

You find yourself slowly drifting, your eyes keep on him as you mind wonders and a small smile finds itself on your lips.  

If it weren't for Peter you’d be sitting alone right now, packed into whatever carriage you had found. You’d listen to music loud enough to hurt your ears and you’d pick at your nails, or maybe you’d let your teeth at your lower lip. Your brain would mull over the day and you’d swallow the anxieties that pile themselves in your throat. 

“Am I boring you?”

Peter's face comes into focus, his smile is sweet as he watches you drift off.

“No! no no no… sorry,” you swallow with a blink, “sorry I got lost in thought,” you shake your head with an apology, “continue.”

A laugh bubbles in his chest and he shakes his head softly, “you’re good, I get um… I think I get a little too excited about photography sometimes.”

“Oh god no, I like hearing about your photography, trust me. It's refreshing to hear someone my age be so passionate about something,” Your tone couldn’t be more genuine.

“Really?” He smiles and you return it with a nod. 

He opens his mouth to speak and the subway's intercom system announces your stop, “I’m sorry I am. I promise I’m interested but this is our stop,”

You mumble with an apologetic expression as you stop him before he can speak. He giggles with a soft, “okay.” 

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Peter's voice reverberates through the quiet backstreets as you both walk side by side, heading back to your apartment. He talks of how he got into photography, how he enjoys being able to capture a moment in time, he views it as a sacred process. You watch his face light up as he speaks and you can’t help the bright grin curled onto your lips, unconsciously matching the smile on his face. You listen intensely as he speaks so passionately.

You’re grateful for the moment, there's no weird tension between the two of you, no bickering or teasing, you’re not on your toes trying to keep up with his stupid remarks. You’re simply indulged in his words, in a part of his mind that he’s sharing with you. 

Your grin grows. 

“What about you, what are you like… into?” he asks, his tone almost catches you off guard, it’s sickeningly sweet. 

You have to think for a moment, “um I don’t know… nothing I guess,” a shrug pulls at your shoulders.

“C’mon there's gotta be something.”

You think of the eat, sleep, school repeat cycle you’ve been living for the past however many years, each day full of so much nothing. Looking back you genuinely do wonder what you did to pass the time and nothing comes to mind.

The only things that happen in your life are Peter and Spiderman, and you can’t say, ‘actually you’re my hobby. And also Spiderman, don’t know if you’ve heard of him.’ 

“Hmm, nope, nothing, I study… I… I don't know, I work.” You shrug.

‘What about the posters on the wall, the music you’re always listening to, the movies you’re always watching at night,’ the words dangle on his tongue and he bites down, swallowing a lump in his throat.

“I don’t believe that,” he opts for this. 

“Believe it, you’ve befriended a bore,” 

He rolls his eyes, a chuckle slipping past his lips as he denies this. You’re being stubborn.

“Believe what you want, it's the truth.”  You shrug. 

He hums softly, his eyes keep on you and the remains of a smile stay evident on his lips.

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The familiar apartment building comes into view, he swallows softly, and can’t seem to pull his eyes from your face. He rolls over words in his mind, ‘you’ve never been in her room, you don’t know which apartment is hers, etc.’ He almost feels sick at the thought of slipping up.

“You’d think big hot shot Oscorp would pay well enough for an apartment complex but I guess one income slows us down.” 

You send your shoulder into the weighted door and lend an awkward smile as you hold the door for him, mumbling an apology about the climb to the fifth story.

“Your mum works at Oscorp?” he asks softly, there's something else to his tone and you can’t quite place it. You ultimately decide to blame it on the stairs, despite not being a quarter way to the top. 

“You got a problem with Oscorp?” you tease, looking to the step behind you as you watch Peter make the climb with ease.

“No, no, it’s just… I don’t know,” He curses himself as no answer comes to mind, god he’s already slipped up. His heart beats softly against his chest and he releases a breath as you hum, dropping it.

“Well she loves it, that's why she’s out so late almost every night, they’re working on this um, DNA thing… I don’t know, her boss is missing an arm, it's, like, something to do with that. You ask her about it at dinner, she’ll love you forever.”

His breath catches in his throat and it’s followed by a gross feeling that spins his gut, his teeth sinking into the flesh of his cheek as you mention doctor Curtis Connors.

He tries to not let it bother him, in fact he feels guilty that it does, it’s not as though you’re his problem. 

His mind flicks to the suit in his backpack, maybe he doesn’t have a choice in whether you’re his ‘problem’ or not anymore. 

“Geez Peter I didn’t know you worked out, you haven’t even broken a sweat.” You huff, conquering the last step. 

Yes, you may over exaggerate but five stories of stairs is enough to make anyone a little breathless. “I work out,” he scoffs with a small smile. You take one look up and down, eyes trailing across his tall lanky build. With a raise of an eyebrow,  you hum a soft “Mhm”. He rolls his eyes and it pulls a giggle from your lips. 

Your hands fumble around in your pocket and you pull out your house key, wiggling it around in the old lock before it finally opens with a heavy shove of the door. 

“Hey mum!” You call out softly, holding the door open for Peter. Your mother stands in the kitchen, she’s chopping vegetables and humming along to soft music as it plays from her own old record player, she’s got it on her fifteenth birthday and she adores the thing. 

“Hey love,” She hums, her eyes flicking up from the task at hand. 

“Oh and this must be Peter.” 

You send her a pressed smile, widening your eyes as if to say, ‘embarrass me and I will kill you,’ though she retaliates with a little wink and you groan. 

“I’ve heard so much about you Peter,” she continues to cut carrots. 

Peter sends you a smug grin. 

“You have?”

“Oh for sure, all good things… most good things,” she hums with a shrug and a smile. 

“I’m just glad she’s making friends-”

“Okay mum, we’re gonna go study,” You cut her off with a tight smile, she laughs with a shake of her head and a wave of her hand, “have fun!” 

“I’m sorry about her,” You huff with a smile, the tips of your ears burn and you feel yourself blushing. 

You lean your school bag against your bed and let him know he can put his stuff anywhere. 

Walking over to your desk, he leans his bag against the leg before settling comfortably into the seat.

Your brows furrow with a small smile, watching him as you take a seat against your bed. “You have a habit of making yourself comfortable,” you giggle with a shake of your head. 

“Oh I… sorry I, remember you saying you always study on your bed.” Nerve drips from his words as he sits up right. 

“No no, you’re good,” you smile with a shake of your head, “and you’re right,” you pull your things from your bag, setting stuff out the way you like it. 

He curses himself silently, ‘you’ve never been here before Peter,’ he reminds himself and his eyes scan your room, his sight falls on your posters,  the one he’d seen almost twice a night for the past week or so.

“Nice posters,” he hums.

Your eyes flick up as he speaks, the way he says it scratches a nerve in your brain, like it was familiar. 

You hum softly flipping open your Bio textbook, “thank you, it’s taken me ages to collect them all.”

Peter swallows dryly. 

“You said you didn’t have any hobbies,” his eyes keep on you. 

“Collecting posters isn’t… doing something though, like… writing or… taking photos,” you point to him with your pencil. 

“I guess…” He sits for a moment. “What about watching movies, I mean you’ve gotta love ‘em to have this many posters,” 

“Eh, I don’t think that counts”

“Oh c’mon that totally counts”

“Does it?” you shrug. 

“Whatever, we'll find you something.”

You look up to him with a smile, he gets his stuff out, placing it on your desk. 

“You know I am good at one thing…” You mumble, his head shoots up, “it’s called studying, and it’s going to help me get into a very nice university so that I can be good at things for money” 

You tease, drawing a humoured scoff from Peter. 

The two of you sit for a good while, faces buried in books, bouncing ideas and questions off of one another as you scribble messy notes. Stupid jokes and shared giggles pull the both of you from study, for minutes at a time you clutch your stomachs in laughter, textbooks forgotten until you find your way back on track. It leaves your stomach muscles beat, exhausted from curling in on itself as huffs of giggles slip from your lips. 

You now watch as he reads a particular section of his textbook, faced away from you with his eyes focused so desperately on the page, your teeth seek your lip, sinking into its flesh without mercy. A feeling settles deep in your gut, turning your stomach and all of sudden you feel ill, despite it you can’t seem to pull your eyes from the brown haired boy. It’s all too familiar but you refuse it, swallowing dryly before you can bring yourself to put a name to the feeling. 

Peter can feel you staring, he can feel the intensity of your gaze burning into his temple, a feeling he’s grown accustomed to. He’s not sure if it’s his ‘Spidey-Senses’ or because he just knows you but he can feel it. Maybe it's a mix of both with all the time he’s spent with you, with all the time you’ve spent on his mind. 

A smile tugs on his lips and he can’t seem to stifle it as it grows into a grin. 

Your eyes flick back down to your page, you practically wrangle them there. The lump in your throat is stubborn, no matter how much you swallow it sits there stubbornly and you try your best to ignore it. Now is not the time, your eyes flick up once again, especially as he sits in your desk chair, slumped over with his nose in his textbook, innocently in his own world and doing his school work just as you should be. 

The rapid knock of your door pulls you from thought, “dinners ready love,” your mum's voice calls out muffled through the wood. “M’kay,” you hum, loud enough for her to hear it, letting out a silent huff, a poor attempt at settling the unplaceable feeling in your stomach. 

A stiff silence settles over the three of you, broken by the sound of quiet chewing and cutlery scraping against your mothers ‘nice’ dinner plates. You’re all packed onto a small dining table, designed for just two people, your knee brushes against Peters and you meet his eyes with a silent apology. 

“So I um, heard you work at Oscorp,” He swallows, keeping his eyes on you before flicking them to your mother with a smile.

“Oh yeah? She told you about that huh,” your mother sends you a grin.

“I mean they’re doing insane work, really I shouldn’t even be talking about it, but it’s just so fascinating.” 

Peter nods along, you can’t help the smile that clings to your lips, unable to draw your eyes from him as he entertains your mother’s chattering.

“Its um… well lizards, right, they can regrow limbs, it's really quite fascinating, comes from years of evolution and adapting, I’ll spare the boring details,” she waves a dismissive hand, “we’re taking this aspect of their DNA and attempting to create a serum that can prompt human cells into preforming blastema-based regeneration. What that means is-”

“Mum Peter is like a grade A genius, don't worry,” you mumble, cutting her off. 

His lips curl into a smile, and he meets your eyes as you return the grin. 

“So you like science Peter?” Your mum asks. 

“Oh yeah, I um.. I love it,” He wears a lopsided smile, as he fumbles to answer the question. He watches you in the corner of his vision, checking to see if he’s said the right thing, and another grin slips onto your lips. You eye him as he stumbles over his words, looking for your approval and you lend a soft nod as your smile grows. 

“So that’s what you wanna do? Go into science I mean,” She asks, taking a fork full of food in her mouth. 

“Well I, um…”

“Peter’s actually a really talented photographer, so he’s still working things out.” You hum with a nod, sensing the nerves radiating off of him, he sends a grateful smile. 

“Oh yeah? My husband loved photography.”

You flinch a little at her words as she mentions your dad. It was true, he had spent a lot of his life taking photos, they were amazing too. He had never turned it into a career though, you had assumed it was because of some moral obligation he had to take care of you and your mum, he refused to even entertain the idea in fear of halving the household funds and leaving the both of you struggling, well look where you are now. 

Peter sends you a look, a quick flick of his eyes and you know what it represents. You opt to lend a small smile with nothing behind it, it’s a poor attempt at returning to any form of normalcy you could get your hands on and he returns it, submitting to this attempt. 

You make a note to talk to Peter about your dad later, it wasn't as though you had tried to hide any of… what had happened, it just never came up. Maybe deep down you liked it that way and maybe in a way you had tried to hide it, though you’re quick to swallow any guilt that threatens to build as you return to the normalcy that you and Peter had silently decided upon. 

Peter clears his throat with a hum. “Yeah, I just… love having the ability to capture a moment in time, I think it helps me get a grasp on reality. I would spend all my time taking photos if I could.”

Your mum hums with a smile and a soft nod, of course she liked that answer. She’s so insanely passionate sometimes that it scares you, up until two am most nights working on her research, not eating all day just to purely save time, you’re not sure how she’s still running. Seeing her daughter hanging out with someone at all, let alone someone so driven, is probably sending her insane with pure relief. 

“As long as you’re passionate about whatever you do,” Your mum nods, taking a sip of her wine glass. 

You smile with a shake of her head, she’s so predictable, it's sweet. You’re grateful for her, god, more than grateful for her, you’re not sure where on earth you’d be without her. 

“Oscorp isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, the field of science is very dangerous if you ever do go into it. The other day Peter-” she leans in with another sip of her wine, “there was this giant lizard monster god, I don’t know what he was but he injured about ten people, I’m sure you heard it on the news, that Spiderboy was there.”

“It’s Spiderman mum, and that isn’t because you work in science it's because you live in New York.” You correct her with a roll of your eyes, it was a conversation the two of you had had about five times since that night and if you heard about how ‘Spiderboy’ had made the whole situation worse one more time you’re sure you’d rip your hair out. 

“I don’t care what his name is, he totaled my car,” “The lizard did mum, not Spiderman, he’s just trying to help-”

Peter can’t stop the grin that curls at his lips as you unknowingly defend him. He watches as you toy with your food, giving up as your mother insists that Spiderman is doing more harm than good. 

“What do you think Peter, about this ‘Spiderman’ I mean,” Your mum hums, taking another bite of her food. His eyes flicker to you, and he hesitantly gives his opinion, “I think that he does good where he can…at least I think he intends to. I mean think about what could have happened if he wasn't there.”

You nod stubbornly with a fold of your arms, “Exactly.”

Your mum rolls her eyes with a small smile and a shrug as she washes down the food in her mouth with a sip from her glass, “I guess,” she mumbles hesitantly and you too roll your eyes with a giggle. 

Peter smiles, his eyes keeping on you. “What got you working at Oscorp,” He takes a sip of his water. 

“Well I always adored science, all through school. I graduated, y’know researched with a couple of small corporations near home. Then, after her dad died, I just decided lifes too short, I quickly applied to Oscorp, we moved here, and the rest is history.” 

There it is. 

An unease settles in your stomach and your focus turns to the food chewing in your mouth, it doesn’t really bother you, at least that's what you tell yourself. It was obvious your dad wasn’t around anymore, for one reason or another, but it felt too vulnerable for him to know that he was actually dead. The thought rolls around in your head and you swallow it with your dinner. You had planned to tell Peter, though it isn’t like you need to, you don't owe it to him. Still, you feel something build in your stomach as you realise that maybe you had actively avoided it in conversation, maybe even lied during the process and you quickly realise you’re filled with some sick mix of embarrassment and guilt.

You feel Peter glancing at you, his gaze is soft and his eyes flick between you and your mother as she continues to talk and he continues to nod along. You meet his eyes, deciding that facing whatever you’re feeling is far less embarrassing than closing up like you’re used to. You can’t place the emotions behind his eyes but nevertheless he offers a smile, it’s void of pity and you realise that deep down that was what you feared most from his reaction. You return the smile, it’s grateful though you don’t particularly mean for it to be, and the two of you once again silently agree to bask in normality until dinner is over. 

______________________________________________________________

The both of you sit on your bed in silence, it's comfortable but there’s an all too familiar feeling of anxiety settled in your stomach. Your mind rolls over words, they hang on the tip of your tongue as you wrack your brain on how to start the conversation. 

“When I was six my parents went on a work trip and never came back,” Peter lets out, taking the blow for you. His eyes find you, you’re focused on the tips of your fingers as they fiddle with one another. He hears your breathing hitch, your heartbeat speed up, he watches as you try to find the words. 

“Pet-”

“My Aunt May and Uncle Ben took me in, and then…. a couple of months ago Ben was killed in a robbery,” 

You shut your mouth tightly, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your cheeks as you fight to find the words and suddenly you don’t feel so angry at each relative that told you ‘they were sorry’ and ‘they were here for you,’ because… what do you say?

You swallow, your teeth unlatching around your cheek, and open your mouth to speak once again, 

“I just mean… you don’t have to feel weird or… I don’t know, ashamed about it… okay? Not with me.” 

His voice is soft, his eyes watch you so intensely, it’s like he’s looking at you for the first time, like really looking at you. Noticing each wrinkle in your expression, each imperfection that litters your skin, although this time it’s with his own two eyes, not shrouded by the mask he was once so grateful for.

“He died when I was fifteen…it was um, cancer,” you nod softly, keeping your eyes down, you’re not too sure why but it feels better, easier to talk, like you can breathe. 

“We packed up, like, straight away and mum immediately started working for Dr Connors. She thinks that she can like, find a cure or… I don’t know…” You curse yourself for rambling about it as you realise this wasn’t one of the venting circles in one of the libraries your mum had signed you up to. 

You swallow, biting the bullet and looking up to meet Peter's eyes. You’re not entirely sure what you had expected but when you finally meet them you don’t find the look of condolence that you’ve grown so accustomed to. You find a pure mix of kindness and worry and it spins your gut, this time with gratitude. 

You lend him a smile, it’s grateful, and understanding, it tells him what you don’t trust your words to and he returns it sweetly. 

“Even in dead relatives I’m ahead of you,” he elbows your arm and it's noticeably more gentle than usual.

A laugh bubbles in your chest and you shake your head with an eye roll. 

“Oh my god,” you hum and it draws a giggle from his lips. 

“You’re close with your aunt?” You ask gently as the laughter dies down between the two of you, you’ve found peace within his eye sight as you keep steady eye contact with him for maybe the first time since you've known him. 

He hums with a nod of his head and a smile curls onto his lips. It’s sweet. 

“You’re close with your mum?” He asks, his tone is almost cautious, though he doesn’t mean it to be. He had spent a whole hour at your dinner table and still couldn’t grasp the dynamic between the two of you. 

You hum a soft laugh with a nod of your head, “yeah, we are. It’s… complicated, my dad’s death fucked with her super bad but she’s still my best friend, kind of my only friend.”

He smiles, a sound of understanding slips from his lips. 

“Were you um… close with your dad?” He prays he hasn’t overstepped a line, his teeth catch on his lips as the words slip from them and he feels oddly close to you as he sinks teeth into flesh. 

You smile, looking down at your hands, “yeah… super close,” it’s all you say though he takes it with gratitude. 

“What about you, were you close with your parents, with your Uncle?” You look back up at him and meet his eyes, they never seem to leave you, it’s something you’d noticed. 

He nods, a smile slipping onto lips much like you had done. “My parents died when I was pretty young so, yes… but also no.” You nod along, watching him closely. “But I was super close with Ben.” You feel like maybe you opened something you shouldn't have as you remember that it hasn’t been long since his passing. You watch the creasing in Peter's expression and you quickly feel guilt fill your stomach as your own brows furrow. 

“I’m sorry Peter I shouldn’t-”

“No, god no I asked first- no, don’t do that,” His soothes quietly, shutting down your guilt. 

You nod softly as he continues.

“He was like a dad to me so… yeah.”

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, the air filled with a feeling of understanding and the both of you settle into it. 

“I should um, maybe get going,” He mumbles, it’s a cop out, the both of you know it, the both of you have become accustomed to it. 

“You can stay Peter,” 

His almost frantic movements stop, his eyes find yours, he wouldn't go as far as to say they’re begging but they’re big and asking him to stay in the warmth of your room and who is he to say no to you. 

“We can watch a movie… or-”

“I would really like that.”

______________________________________________________________

Your eyes glance over to him, his face lit up by the screen of your laptop. The two of you sit comfortably in your bed, backs propped up against the wall, an awkwardly large space between the two of you, you’re overly conscious of it as you try your hardest to keep your eyes on the screen and your limbs to yourself. In your uncomfort your eyes flick to your watch, checking the time and your stomach turns with anxiety as a thought pops into your head. You frantically flick your eyes to the window, trying your hardest to keep your ‘cool’ exterior in front of Peter though you’re now busy attempting to prepare for the inevitable. There hasn’t been a night in the past week where Spiderman hasn’t shown up at your window cill, absolutely bursting to tell you about his night. Many nights he’d sit in the very chair Peter had, chatting your ear off for hours until you had to shoo him from your room to save at least four hours of sleep before you had to get up for school. You swallow your nerves, taking a deep breath, soft enough for Peter to miss it, at least you hope he misses it, and you try to make up some sort of plan.

Peter was… cool about it, he appreciated what Spiderman did. He actually never really spoke about him, in fact he was a little weird about him, though you’re not complaining, if Peter tried to subtly shut down most conversations about him, it meant you didn’t need to subtly avoid most conversations about him. 

You’re only now realising it seemed like a sensitive topic and you pray to god Spidey didn’t have some unfortunate involvement with his uncle's death, that would make it a little awkward if, or when, he shows up at your window. 

You swallow, bringing your eyes back to the movie, you’re choosing to push all rational thoughts out of your mind as you do so, you’re going to sit here and focus on the film and not focus on how you wouldn’t be able to hand another of your secrets getting spilt, not that you had any others to spill after Spidey. 

Peter's eyes watch you in his peripheral vision, watching as your vision linger on the window cill. 

“Shit,” the word slips from his lips before he can stop it and it instantly catches your attention.

“What's up?” You ask, sitting up gently. 

Fuck, he curses himself silently though he quickly realises he’s given himself the perfect out. “I just realised that May said she wanted me home half an hour ago, I’m so sorry, I-” he jumps from your bed. 

“You’re fine, really. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Your voice comes out far more enthusiastic than you had hoped for and you cringe as the words leave your lips. 

Peter nods with a sheepish smile, backpack in hand as he stands at your bedroom door, “thank you for having me,” he mumbles. His words are genuine and the feeling in your gut that you entirely refuse to recognise is back, nagging at your heart. 

“No problem,” you hum softly, returning the sheepish smile. 

He’s gone in a flash, with a slam of your door, a little harder than he had anticipated, and a soft ‘sorry!’ from the other side of the wood. You let out a breath of relief, your teeth sinking into your lip as you do so. Your mind plays over the day as you slip your laptop into your school bag and lay on your bed. You’re grateful Peter knows about your dad, at least you think you are. It makes you feel vulnerable, he can take one look at the life you lead and understand why you are, where you are, now that he has the missing piece of the puzzle. You guess it goes both ways, though he seems so put together and you quickly become jealous over how well he’s able to hide his grief, then again you know it isn’t something to wish for and you swallow as you remind yourself that there are so many parts of him that you don't see.

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Venomous.

Chapter 1: The Laboratory

Pairing: SpiderMan x fem!venom!reader

Chapter Summary: y/n visits an abandoned lab to find some good photos for a class assignment but finds herself in over her head when she comes face-to-face with a creature calling itself venom.

Chapter content: Near death experience, descriptions of injuries, angst, potential body horror (its venom soo), brief mention of animal death, brief mention of vomiting (non-graphic), mention of assault (not to reader)

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The old Oscorp laboratory that sits on the outskirts of New York wasn't exactly the place most college students expected to spend their Friday night. Even y/n, who usually spent her time alone or developing old photos in her university's old darkroom instead of hanging out with nonexistent friends, didn't make a habit of visiting dilapidated buildings alone with only a camera and a flashlight. 

The lab was in the middle of the forest, surrounded by a rusting chain link fence—a ‘CAUTION! ELECTRIC FENCE!’ The sign was on the ground beside said fence, having long since fallen off. Normally this would have made y/n turn around and try to find a less dangerous place to take pictures for her photography class, but it just so happened that a large, y/n sized hole had at somepoint been cut into the fence, leaving the perfect entrance for curious (and borderline suicidal) university students to slip through with relative ease. 

The laboratories walls were covered in vines, the plants wrapping themselves around anything their tendrils came into contact with. The door to the lab was gone, leaving just a gaping hole as an entrance, and y/n entered easily, snapping a few pictures of the outside as she did. The inside was, much like the outside, a complete mess. The walls, once a pristine and clinical white, now a dirty, greenish-gray, with splatters of what y/n could only hope was just some random chemical and not blood. Blue double doors lined the hall, a small rectangular window on each one. After opening a few doors and taking some photos of the old science equipment, she finally found herself standing in front of the last door at the end of the hallway. Through the small windows she could see it was a stairwell, and pushed the door open, entering the well and taking some pictures of the eerie stairs leading into the complete darkness of the second floor. 

Pointing her flashlight up the stairs, she began to climb. She stopped at the second level door which was marked with a large ‘2’, and gave the handle a rough shove to push the door open. The hallway itself was much the same as on the first floor, though it was certainly worse for ware. The walls were covered in an oozing black, ink-like substance, and a couple doors were completely gone. y/n took a step back, only managing to snap one or two pictures of the bizarre scene before she felt something under her begin to shift. The floor below her made an awful cracking sound and some debris crumbled from the ceiling above her. She took a shuttered breath and was about to turn and run when the ceiling suddenly gave out, and everything went dark.

A heavy pressure was the first thing she felt. Then, an excruciating pain shot through her entire body. She tried to scream, but the ruble covering—or rather, crushing—her made any noise impossible. All but her head was trapped. Above her, she could see the hole she had fallen through just barely in the dim light and dust filled air. She coughed, and felt the pressure compress her chest. She wondered, in a hazy and distinctly concussed way, if she was going to die here. Alone, crushed by the heavy cement ceiling of an abandoned building she was never meant to be in. Tears welled in her eyes, and she let them close for a moment before she felt something drip onto her face. ‘Blood?’ she wondered. Her eyes fell on the hole she'd fallen through to see that the inky black stuff was dripping down from the floor above and landing directly on her face.

If she could move, or even feel, her arms, she would have immediately tried to wipe the strange goo off her cheek, but she was immobilized and could only watch in disgust as the black sludge dripped onto her. Then, she felt the inky stuff move. And she froze. The slime wriggled against her skin and she could only hope it wasn't some sort of poison as she felt the thing be absorbed into her skin. 

Something changed at that moment. Y/n couldn’t tell what, but something did. She felt her arms twitch, and then her legs—which she was certain were completely broken—seemed to snap back together. She cried out in pain as her body's bones corrected themselves, her scraped skin gluing itself back together before she felt the same black sludge engulf her entire body.

Something was definitely wrong with her. That's the first thought that passed through y/n's mind when she felt herself standing, the rubble that was crushing her now light, and her body, which had previously been torn apart by the fall and subsequent cruising of all her bones, now felt strong, mended and somehow improved. She moved, though she felt as though it was both not her own movements and completely of her own volition. She lifted her hand and- oh. Yes, something was in fact very, very wrong with y/n. Her own hand was gone—or rather, covered by a longer and, well, sharper one. Her skin was instead a black inky mass of sorts—the inky sludge that had covered her no doubt—and her fingers were longer and clawed. She looked down at herself and was met with the same sight. An inky black mass was now replacing her once distinctly human form.

She must’ve passed out then, because when she finally came to, she was once again in the forest, laying on her back and staring up at the stars. She lifted her hand, which was shaky and scratched, but no longer broken or made of slime, so she supposed that was an improvement. 

“It's about time you woke up.” 

A voice said, and she sat up, looking around frantically for whatever had spoken, but found only forest. She tugged at her sleeve nervously. “Jesus, I must be losing it..” she muttered, trying to steady her rapid heart beat. 

“Think again, kid,” the voice spoke again, this time accompanied by a…head? It seemed to be emerging from her back. She turned, but there was no one behind her. That was, apart from the head, now grinning. Its mouth, which was put on full display thanks to that damned smile, was large and full of sharp teeth. its eyes were white and angular, staring into her very soul. 

“

“W-what…” She could feel herself break out in a cold sweat, goosebumps covering her skin. “What the fuck are you…?” She asked, because what else could she even say? 

“We are Venom.” it said, and her brow furrowed. 

“We?”

“You and I, kid. We are Venom. And we are hungry.”

She shook her head, forcing herself onto her feet. “For what? People!?” She stared at the head. 

“You learn quickly.” it—Venom—replied, and y/n’s heart dropped to her feet. 

“No. Absolutely not.” She took a step back, but Venom, of course, wasn’t exactly going anywhere. “I'm not doing any of this little shop of horrors bullshit!” She was practically screaming at this point. ‘this whole thing is crazy!’

“You owe me, kid. I saved your skin; now it's your turn.” Venom said, its grin growing impossibly larger. 

“I-i never asked for your help! I didn't even know you were…alive.” She shuddered at the memory of the inky slime covering her.

“Come on, y/n. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.” 

she froze, her blood running cold. “H-how do you know my name…?” She asked, and Venom made a noise that was probably supposed to be a laugh.

“Oh, I know everything about you, y/n l/n. I'm inside your head.” She flinched as venom leaned closer, its black tendrils brushing against her skin. “I know you want power. You want to be seen. I can give that to you.” 

she shook her head. “No, no! You’re… you‘re not real…” 

She turned and began to walk, ignoring the voice that continued to speak.

“Come on, kid. I know you want to.” 

“Shut up! You don't know anything about me!” She forced herself to walk faster, stepping over logs and roots as she finally made her way out of the forest and onto a street. “This is fucking insane. I’m losing my god damn mind…” She muttered to herself, walking down the sidewalk. She didn’t recognize the part of town she was in, but that was the last thing on her mind. She must've been walking aimlessly for quite a while, because when she stopped, she realized she was in the middle of the sidewalk in an area of town where a young woman definitely wouldn't want to be alone at such an hour. 

“Don't be scared kid, you have us now.” 

She startles, glancing around to try and spot the head of Venom, but not seeing any sign of it. “God, don't do that shit!” She hissed, rubbing the nape of her neck as though to remove Venom from her all together. 

She moved to start walking again when a noise stopped her dead in her tracks. It definitely sounded like a cry of some kind. She looked around, and wrapped her arms around herself nervously. Y/n slowly walked forward, not making it very far before she heard the noise again, and turned to stare into an alley. 

She narrowed her eyes; somewhere in the darkness she can see the form of two people, one cowering on the ground and the other standing menacingly over them. She bristled. ‘A mugging?’ That was probably the best case scenario all things considered.

“We could help.” venom said, its tendrils curling around her arm. “You want to. Just give me control.” 

She took a sharp breath. She could save them, but would the cost be worth it?

She didn’t get to finish thinking, because the looming figure pounced causing the person on the ground to shriek, and then something inside her snapped and she became Venom.

The fight, if you could even call it that, didn't last long. Venom wasn't lying when it said it was hungry, and the assailant was no match for its jaws. The person huddled on the ground—a woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties—had run the second the person attacking her was distracted. Good. 

Y/n tried not to think about what just happened, even as venom retreated back into her and she ran from the alley, not stopping until she was standing in front of her dorm building. She unlocked  the door, stepping inside and letting out a sigh of relief as she collapsed onto her creaky bed, burying her face in her pillow, and then promptly getting back up to go vomit in her toilet.

Venom was quiet for a while, and she hoped it was because it knew she needed time, but maybe it was just digesting. She didn't sleep much that night.

────────────

Spider Man landed on a roof near the alley he had heard the screams from. It was quiet now, but he knew that wasn't necessarily a good sign. He dropped into the alley, looking around for any signs of someone in danger, and froze. A puddle of blood, some black, inky looking substance, and a woman's purse were the only things in the alley. He picked up the bag and cracked it open, retrieving a wallet and then an ID. He looked around—whoever left the blood was gone, but they obviously weren't looking to rob anyone, considering the wad of cash still in the woman's purse. He was about to investigate further when he heard sirens and carefully placed the purse down; they would have an easier time returning this to its owner after all. He swung out of the alleyway, still unsure what exactly went down in the small amount of time it had taken him to get to the scene.

────────────

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[pjo-tvs-version]

In another universe, Annabeth and Percy are Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy from the Amazing Spiderman movies

That's it that's the post

[reverieblondie]

Neighbors

Chapter 2: Heroic Spiders

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Burglary and knife being held to readers throat.

Summary: First day at work and your trying to keep a positive mindset despite your irritating neighbor messing with you. Whatever you just have to ignore it and keep going!

A/N: Sorry I've been behind on posting, I got sick with the flu for a week and that has made me behind. But I have four fics in the works currently! I am enjoying writing this series its a good pallet cleanser and has been helping me get all my cheesy rivalry romance ideas out. Hope your enjoying it! If you have a request please drop it in my inbox! I love getting ideas and interacting with all of you! If you want to be tagged for this series or anything else please leave a comment asking! Thank you so much for your support!

Word Count: 3,751

Chapter 2: Heroic Spiders

Cockroaches….that damn neighbor must have just been messing with you…

Exhausted, your neighbor's little comment had compelled you to spend the rest of the night checking every surface where a cockroach could be hidden, only to be met with nothing. Maybe he had done it just to stress you out, what a jerk…whatever, just avoid him, that should be easy. 

Though you can’t get too wrapped in thinking of your smartass neighbor right now, you need to focus on getting ready for work. The job you managed to land was at a bar in the neighborhood with an owner who seemed nice and paid decently; though you were still on the hunt for a second job, New York is an expensive place to live and your scholarship can only help you so much. 

Being a bartender was easy for you, it was one of the first jobs you got when you started going to school, plus there were always bars near campuses. There is also the fact that for your school schedule getting to work nights worked out best for you. Bartending was fairly simple and getting your certification was easy enough, yes you had the occasional creeps at the bar but usually, it was an overall safe environment with people just trying to wind down after their long work weeks. Plus when people are tipsy they tend to tip well, perks of the trade. 

Moving to New York for a scholarship has been a whirlwind of unfamiliarity, but bartending is something you knew and were confident in. Plus maybe there would be other people around your age working there, your shot at a friendship with the neighbors wasn’t going well but maybe you could be friends with your coworkers. 

Finished getting ready, you gather your bag and give yourself a once over. The outfit looks nice, the hair is done right, and the makeup is nice just the way you like it. This is perfect, you feel confident, and nothing is going to mess up your night! 

Walking out of your apartment you lock your door and you hear the creaky elevator doors starting to close. Quickly you call out for someone to hold the door as you run to the elevator, and to your delight a hand catches the door before it can shut. Getting to the elevator you wear a sweet smile ready for whoever held the elevator for you but once the doors open back up your smile sinks into a bitter glare. It’s him….the spider catcher with the grumpy attitude. 

As you begrudgingly walk into the elevator you see that his face equally doesn’t look too pleased to be seeing you. A part of you wishes he wouldn't have held the door so you could skip being stuck in the cramped elevator with him, but you don’t want to risk running late on your first day. So instead you must suffer through the awkward silence that’s filling in the space between you too. 

Standing there side by side your thoughts are lamenting why this elevator had to be so slow. Trying to keep yourself appear unbothered by him, your eyes go to observe him despite your trying not to. Today he looks a bit less tired and is wearing normal clothes, not his pajamas. His hair is still fluffy but you're starting to think that’s just how he wears it. Also, his brown eyes are covered up by glasses. Danm, he’s got that whole cute nerd thing going for him huh…

As you're studying him his eyes move to you and you quickly avert your gaze feeling flustered to have gotten caught looking. Get a grip girl you can’t think he’s cute he is a rude jerk who called you dramatic, you can’t think he’s cute, absolutely not! Staring straight ahead you swear you heard him slightly snickering to himself, just being so close to him so making your blood boil. Never before has someone bothered you so much but here he is driving you mad. 

Shooting your eyes over to him you're making sure to give him a dirty look, one that says, I don’t like your jerk face. Though he’s not paying attention, opting to fiddle around with his camera instead. Looking at the camera you note that it appears to be an older model then some white lettering on the device catches your attention. 

“Peter Parker…” you whisper, as you do his head shoots over to you with a confused look on his face. Moving your head at the number of floors you still have left to go, you feel his eyes still on you. 

“It’s rude to stare,” you say irritatedly

“Yeah, I know that, do you?” 

You whip your head around facing him now, “I wasn’t staring at you, I was reading the name on the camera.” 

“I was talking about before you said my name.” 

“Well I wasn’t staring at you then either,” -your liar, you were staring…

“Yeah sure…y/n” 

Your eyes go wide at him saying your name and you look at him confused. He points down at your bag with a smug look on his face.  

“Your school ID is hanging out of your bag” 

Looking at your bag you see he was right so you quickly tuck your ID back into your bag. Well isn’t he just clever….

Folding your arms in a huff the two of you fall back into a silence. He messes with his camera once more and you stare straight ahead while irritation grows. Maybe it's the awkward silence or maybe it's your need to have the last word because you can’t help yourself from muttering to him “I didn’t see any roaches….” 

He slightly laughs “Yeah your spider friend made sure of that” 

“What?! You think I’m going to get them now?!” 

He shrugs “That’s why you should be nicer to spiders, they help us in more ways than we know” 

“Didn’t realize I was talking to a spider enthusiast….” 

“I’m not a spider enthusiast..” 

“Could have fooled me…” 

The elevator grows quiet again and it seems this time you are going to have the last word. Success. Though as you're standing there you can feel eyes on you turning to give him a dirty look again, he might start thinking that's just how you look. Peter seems completely unfazed by the look you give him as his eyes scan you up and down. As if the elevator wasn’t already cramped now having a guy looking you up and down makes the space feel downright claustrophobic. You can’t help how his eyes on your bare legs make you want to squeeze your thighs together. Is he checking you out right now? Maybe you should scold him?  

“You do know that it’s going to be cold and raining tonight right?” 

The comment takes you aback for a second, he must be referring to your chosen outfit for work tonight and your lack of an umbrella and coat. A black long-sleeve top paired with shorts and a pair of comfortable tennis shoes is perfect for having to be on your feet all night. You wear these outfits because when you show more skin as a bartender you get more tips, well at the bar you used to work at anyways that's how it worked. 

Looking over at Peter you shrug trying to come off as unfazed as possible, “the weatherman said that it wasn’t going to rain a little cold but I can handle that.'' you say matter of factly to Peter. 

“Let me guess, the weatherman from channel 12? Yeah, he’s always wrong.” furrowing your brows you look at him confused. One, how did he know what channel you were watching? Two, how was he so sure of himself? 

“Well, he’s a weatherman, are you? Unless you're telling me you're a weatherman and a spider expert” You fold your arms and look at him with your eyebrows raised inquisitively. 

Peter looks at you eyeing him and slightly giggles to himself, “No I am neither but, I just have a…sense for these sorts of things''. 

You look at him and roll your eyes. “Well I am going to go with what the weatherman says, no offense to your weather sense abilities.” for theatrics, you hold up your hands and wiggle your fingers mockingly.  

This causes Peter to laugh out loud a bit “Well when you get caught in the rain and you're freezing, just know I told you so.” Peter adjusts his gaze back to the elevator staring at the warped reflections of the two of you with a sly smile on his face. 

“Don’t worry about me, I can handle it.”

“Like you handle spiders?” 

Smartass….

Before you can give your rebuttal the elevator is stopping with a loud whine and then opening up. In a huff, you exit quickly having had enough of Peter Parker. Sure he may have one this round but next time you will for sure have the last word. 

“Can I get a whiskey on the rocks with a twist” 

Before the guy could finish his sentence you're already pouring the amber liquid over the singular ice cube in a fresh glass. The final touch is the lemon rind being rubbed onto the lip of the glass cup then dropping the rind into the glass to keep working its aromatic magic. Sliding the glass over you smile at him. Going to wash his used glass you watch through partials as he places a fair tip in the jar for your service. You will be sure to always be quick with his drink to continue to get the good tips.

As you had hoped work was going smoothly, The bar was perfect, manageable with steady business. The perfect blend of just being busy enough that you see new people and keeping the shift going by fast but slow enough that you don’t feel like you're drowning. The best part is that the new boss Gregory was a nice family man who had inherited the bar from his dad. 

Gregory and you had started small talk while he showed you the ropes, you learned he had a wife with a son and another on the way. He revealed that he liked to hire college students who needed a flexible schedule. Though, much to your chagrin you were the only college student working at the bar at the moment. The last two recently quit due to them finding different careers with their degrees, a thing you're sure to do as well when you graduate. 

Though nobody else was a college student like you, everyone you met was nice and welcoming, making you feel like you could finally get that friend circle you had been craving. Though you need to play it cool, the last thing anyone wants is to be smothered by the new girl desperate for friends. -baby steps for now. 

The bar seemed to be a great fit, everyone was nice and all the customers seemed pretty chill. Maybe your luck was starting to finally turn around, maybe this would all work out and everything would go as you hoped.

Maybe… 

Taking a deep sigh you stare at the rain as it pours down onto the darkly lit sidewalk that you need to take to get home. Looks like your luck hasn't exactly changed. Resting your head against the front of the bar you hold yourself trying to keep warm as best you could. Seems that your neighbor should think about becoming a weatherman with that accurate weather sense of his. You even checked your phone's weather app and it said the rain chances were low! 

Now it's been 30 minutes since work ended and the bar closed and that was 30 minutes of you standing underneath the bar awning alone in a shifty neighborhood. If the rain wasn’t here to hinder you could have been home by now cuddled in your warm bed. No, with how everything was going for you it only makes sense that this is the outcome of your first night at work, and you only have yourself to blame. 

Coworkers had offered to stay with you but you knew how exhausted everyone was so you decided to just tell everyone you would call a cab. However, cabs cost money, something that you do not have a large sum of. So here you are waiting, as patiently as one can in a cold night rain storm, with your apartment keys tightly weaved between your fingers due to you still not having bought pepper spray. Maybe you could make a run for it? But you're completely exhausted from your first day so the last thing you want is to go take a sprint back to your apartment, but it might be your best bet. 

As you're leaning down to tighten your laces for your run a loud crash is causing you to jump. Startled, you nearly dropped your phone and keys, looking at where the noise came from. It of course came from down an alley of the bar, a dark and creepy alley…

Now there are two things you can do, one is to leave the area for a safe spot, this is the safe and smart option due to it being late at night and you being by yourself with only keys for protection. Then there is the option of being a dutiful employee and making sure that the bar is okay and not being robbed. Taking a moment to think you bounce on the heels of your feet shifting with uncertainty. - You're going to regret this…

Phone in hand and keys in your fist, you're briskly walking down the alley with your head on a swivel as you get drenched from the rain trying to figure out where the noise came from. Damn, your need to be a good samaritan, this is how people get robbed.  

Ignoring your inner thoughts as you go further down the alley you come across a broken window from the building next to the bar. Thankfully it’s not the bar and nobody seems to be around, you sigh of relief. So what now? Do you call the police? You could do that but do you want to have to wait around for them to get here? Examining the window you figure the best scenario is to get to a safe area then call them and explain what you heard. 

Tucking your keys into your pocket you start walking out of the alley but before you can get out, a sudden hand on the back of your neck has you being shoved into the brick wall of the building's side. Letting out a sharp scream, a hand is covering your mouth and a knife is being pressed to your neck. Eyes wide you feel yourself shaking as you stare at the bloodshot eyes peeking through the ski mask. A part of you wants to fight him off but every time you slightly move the man presses against you harder making you wince from the crushing weight. “Shhh, stop moving and I will make this as painless as possible.” 

Shit, Shit… you feel yourself starting to panic at the man's words. What does he mean? Mind scrambling your eyes start to fill with tears, “Drop the bag to the ground and slide to your knees…”  

No, No, No! You want to fight, you want to push him away but you can’t muster the energy, your limbs feel like jelly. Dropping your bag from your shoulder you shut your eyes tightly as you lean further into the wall, hoping for the wall to open up and swallow you, for someone to walk by and see you. Anything…please anyone…

Then a thwip noise and suddenly all that weight on your body is suddenly off you and you're sliding to the wet ground. Keeping your eyes shut you don’t dare look as you hear what sounds like grunts and punches. Then what sounds like the drop of something and running away, curling into yourself you're just trying to be invisible, wanting to wash away with the freezing rain. Then a voice, slightly muffled, is cutting through the pour of the rain, “Hey? You okay there….miss?” 

Opening your eyes you see the masked vigilante…Spider-man. Squatted in front of you he holds your phone towards you and your bag in his other hand. White lenses watch your shivering body as you slowly nod and reach out to grab your phone. 

“Are you hurt?” his voice asks calmly as he studies you, shaking your head he hums to himself before standing up and holding his hand out towards you. 

“Good, let's get you out of this rain. You might want to carry an umbrella with you, it gets rainy this time of year.” All you can manage to do is nod absentmindedly as you take his hand as he pulls you to your feet. Staring at the red and blue-clad man as he continues to ramble about the weather this time of year, it's all honestly lost on you as you're still in shock over what happened and what could have happened. 

“I don’t have an umbrella…” is all you managed to say. Your soft words stop his rambling and even though you can’t see his face you know it's contorted into a look of pity. You're happy you can’t see behind the heroic spider's mask, being pitied like a child would only make you feel worse in this moment.  

“Well, we will have to worry about that part later, for now, let's get you home, huh? Where do you live?” 

“Crescent apartments.”  

“Okay good, that's a short swing,” you watch as he starts to stretch and roll his hips, tilting your head you give him a look and he chuckles and shrugs. “Swinging is all in the hips, scared of heights?” he holds his hand out to you once more. Shaking your head you grab his hand and he puts your bag over his head before pulling you closer in a careful embrace. 

“Just hang on tight and it's best if you keep your eyes closed, the rain might sting your eyes if you keep them open.” 

Nodding you wrap your hands around his neck and with a strong arm wrapping around you and a thwip you two are off. Heeding his advice you keep your eyes shut and head tucked into his neck. You can't ignore how even though he's wrapped in a spandex suit, he's still giving off a comforting warmth that causes you to forget all about the rain and the cold you were once feeling.  The only thing you are focused on is the sound of the wind past your ears and the rhythmic beating of his heart. It's calming…

In what feels like a quick short minute you're no longer hearing the whooshing and the cold wind is no longer nipping at your bare legs. Keeping your head buried you feel yourself get placed down on your feet as a hand gently pats your back albeit kinda awkwardly but there's a tenderness there. “We have arrived…” 

Letting go, you look up at him again, still feeling shocked by everything that happened in such a short time. Opening your mouth you try to think of anything to say as you shield your eyes from the rain, but before you can manage anything spiderman is placing his hand on your shoulder “Get inside and get warm, you might get sick.” 

Then with a flick of his wrist, he's swinging off disappearing into the hazy lights of a rainy New York. Standing there you watch with a slack-jawed expression. That was Spider-Man, you were saved by Spider-Man…you have got to start being nice to all these spiders coming into your life.

Mind still hazy from shock, you're on full autopilot as you arrive at your door going to grab your keys from your pocket. You finally look down and your blood runs cold again. You have your keys and your phone…but your bag is gone. Thumping your head against your door you let out a low groan your sure your cranky neighbor is sure to hear, but you can’t care about that now Spider-man has your bag…shit…

Pushing inside your pacing around, how do you get your bag back? Is there a way to get a hold of him? Is there an emergency number? A signal? Walking aimlessly you feel tears pricking at your eyes. Frustration is starting to get at you from what seems to be the worst night of your life. First the neighbor, then the freezing rain, getting attacked, and now your bag is gone with some mystery masked hero! That bag had all your IDs, your money, and your planner! 

Twap

Pulling from your panic you Look at your window you see your purse stuck to your window with a note attached. Carefully you approach and retrieve your bag, checking the contents you see that everything is accounted for. Then you read the note:

‘I accidentally stole your bag, my bad! Stay warm!’ with the note you see a doodle of a spider with a smiley face. The little picture makes you chuckle slightly as you scan over the words. Spider-man has nice handwriting, you would assume it would be quick and scratchy but it was actually…pretty…huh…

Reread the note and place it on your nightstand and you trug yourself into your bathroom. As you're starting the shower to warm yourself up it’s then you finally glimpse yourself in the mirror. What stares back at you is a mess, make-up is running, your hair is flat and stringy and your face is puffy from when you were fighting off tears. As you stare in the mirror, you're looking at someone you don’t even recognize… a lump in your throat builds but you try to keep yourself from breaking down. Just remember your mantra- don’t let it get you down…stay strong…this was your dream…this is a great opportunity…

This night was a mess….This whole move has been a mess…

No friends…your neighbor hates you…barely making it by and it hasn't even been a full week…you still have school to worry about, how would that end up getting messed up…

Sinking to the floor, rest your head against the wall trying to keep your tears in.  

Maybe this was all a mistake…maybe this move…was a mistake…

Tags:@huesdreamhouse @keiva1000 @spdrwdw @betizda @lunablackcosplay

[parkerpeter24]

bloody love . part 4

pairing ➳ peter parker x reader

warnings ➳ hanahaki!au, angst, fluff too this time 🥰 a happy ending (maybe)

w.c. ➳ 2.2k

summary ➳ maybe. just maybe love doesn’t kill.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

peter knew now. he didn’t know what to do with the information but he knew.

he hoped you didn’t know that he knew. so he walked into the hallway of midtown high as if nothing happened last night.

as if it was another day.

as if his whole world was not collapsing.

you were cautious around him after that night. he noticed it every time the two of you hung out– if that’s what anyone could call it. but he was thankful that you had at least started getting lunch everyday along with him and ned, just like before.

however, you were almost formal. like you didn’t even know him even though he was still the silly boy who bought your favourite milkshake for you and made corny star wars jokes.

“don’t you think it’s a little too cold now for milkshake?” you asked him, almost letting out a laugh as he placed two of the familiar little milkshake cartons in front of you.

“it never stopped you before.” he gave you an almost challenging look, finally breaking your hard exterior, making you let out a small laugh.

ned couldn’t stop the adoring smile that made way to his lips, sitting across from the two of you. peter had told him the detailed account of everything the second he found out you passed up on that surgery. he just couldn’t keep it all in anymore. ned was the saviour he needed then. but now, peter had to kick him under the table, making that smile disappear off his face.

peter hoped you would tell him one day that you decided to not get surgery for your condition. but then again, would he tell you about his?

he wasn’t sure even one bit.

why were feelings so complicated all the time. he wanted to just ask to talk to you in private but everytime he was around you, he could find words scarce. peter parker, the guy who scored perfect a’s in language, found it hard to talk in front of you.

he was thankful that you hadn’t completely pushed him away because some nights he would still visit your balcony, keeping an ear out just in case your mom’s footsteps neared your room, and the two of you would just watch the few visible stars.

it was the little sneeze that made peter wrap his arm securely around your shoulder, “everything okay?”

you rubbed your nose slightly, “i’m sure it was the milkshake.”

you could almost see the outline of his thin lips through his mask as he pressed them together, “i’m sorry, i was kinda second guessing it too.”

“it’s fine.” you shrugged, hoping you wouldn’t catch a cold.

“it was actually stupid of me, to be honest, i’m sorry-”

“it’s fine, peter.” you tried to assure him but he didn’t seem convinced. you could tell by the way he exhaled, the cold air turning it into a small cloud of mist.

“but i-”

“you don’t have to keep apologising.” you added, cutting him off again.

“but i hurt you.” he suddenly let out, voice almost a whisper.”

“so did i, to you.”

peter swore his heart stopped beating for a few seconds. he knew he was bad at keeping a secret but was he this bad? how could you have found out about his condition? he was discreet and it had been some time since he felt his breath clog up due to those goddamn flowers, “-huh?” was all he could let out.

“you know, how i ignored you for so long?” your voice was as soft as his had been a minute ago, “i was a shitty friend to you, not the other way around.”

“that’s not-”

“no, i was selfish.” you looked up at him, finding the same pattern of web-like structure. it was almost disappointing to see his face so close but not actually seeing his face. you took his hand and carefully tugged on it, “let’s go inside.”

peter followed without another word even if he’d wanted to stop you from talking about yourself like that. he took off his mask the second you closed the curtains. thankful that you didn’t have to ask him to do so, you sat onto the edge of your bed and so did he, following persuit.

it was after a few minutes of silence that peter spoke up, finally finding the right words to say, “you did what you had to. i’m not upset.”

“you have every right to be upset…” you stared at the floor, “it’s none of my business if you and gwen-”

“there’s nothing.” peter cut you off, shifting so that he was facing you, his knees brushing against your thigh, “between me and gwen, i mean.”

your eyebrows were pulled together when you looked at him, “i thought…”

“that was the past. i- i didn’t… nothing happened.”

“oh.”

the silence ensued again, the only sounds in the room being the steady breathing of you and peter. you searched your brain for anything else that you could talk about next but nothing came to mind.

“would you like to go to ned’s christmas party with me?” peter mumbled out, breaking the silence once again.

“he’s having a christmas party?” a faint smile came over your features despite the fact that you weren’t already invited to said party, “sounds nice.”

peter smiled in return leaning in to kiss your forehead. you blinked in surprise as his lips lingered over your skin for a second more. not wanting to read too much into it, you pulled back, “uhm... so, it’s getting late.”

you felt the need to hide your face from peter as the warmth spread through your cheeks.

“right.” peter mumbled before he shuffled off your bed and put his mask, “i’ll see you tomorrow?”

“you will.” you confirmed, opening the window for him to climb out.

your gaze followed him until he disappeared into the cold night of new york.

it was half past midnight when peter climbed through his window, into his own room. the first thing he did was call ned. his best friend answered in a groggy voice from just being woken up, “peter? what’s wrong?”

“ned. you need to host a christmas party.”

–––

“she’s heard every michael bublé christmas song ever.” peter grinned as he looked at you, in his overly christmas-y sweater with santa’s laughing face on it. he held a cup of hot chocolate in his hands because ned’s lola wouldn’t let any of you make eggnog.

“they’re just all too good.” you shrugged, sitting down on the couch.

when peter said a christmas party, you thought the house would be filled with people and the smell of baked goods. but when peter opened the door for you, the only lights you could see were the ones in the living room area, above the led tv which showcased the movie “jingle all the way” paused on the screen.

you greeted ned with a hug and gave him the plum cake you mom had made.

the three of you talked and had one too many hot chocolates and before you know it was time to go home and peter was offering to walk you home.

you walked in silence, looking around at the snow glazed grass.

“thanks for inviting me to the christmas party.” you mumbled as you neared your apartment building.

“thanks for coming. it wouldn’t have been a christmas party without you.” peter remarked, making you laugh and nod in agreement.

“actually, without your sweater, it wouldn’t have been a christmas party.” you chuckled, and so did he as he felt you tug at the sleeve of his oversized sweater.

he sighed in what felt like comfort. you looked at his face for a second before your eyes met and peter gulped, finding the courage to utter the next words that he’d been waiting to say the whole evening, “i uh… i-i brought something.”

you could feel the nervousness swimming in his eyes as you nodded for him to show what it was.

peter dug into his pocket and pulled out a small leaf. you eyed the unmistakable plant and then your eyes flickered to the brown ones that were already staring at yours.

“it’s um… a mistletoe plant… well it was a plant, now it’s just a leaf.” he gave out a nervous chuckle, “but we don’t have to-”

the leaf fell onto the tar of the road when peter had to hold onto the back of your neck. your lips were slow against his and his other arm went around your waist when you pushed yourself against him. peter felt the few snowflakes pause in the air as the world stopped– or maybe it was just his breath– but he didn’t waste a second in kissing you back with the same passion.

you pulled back reluctantly, finding yourself on the tip of your toes and breath short. it didn’t matter. nothing else mattered when peter pushed his forehead against yours, making you get back onto your heels.

peter leaned in again, fingers gently digging into the back of your head as he kissed you this time. your arms went around his shoulders as you held onto him. this one was more rushed than the last. his hand at the small of your back, pulling you closer to himself. when peter pulled back this time, he held you like this, looking into your eyes. it seemed as if you two had been slow dancing.

“i missed this.” he mumbled, making you laugh.

“we’ve never done this.”

“i know. that’s what i missed about it.” and he leaned in again, pressing his lips to yours for a third kiss.

you were so thankful that everyone was busy with their families, leaving the road completely empty of cars and passer-bys for you and peter to make out. you probably wouldn’t have found this amount of privacy in your own room, your cousins lounging in it together.

“i should go.” you mumbled quietly, sighing softly as you felt the phone vibrate in your jacket’s pocket, surely your mom’s call.

peter hummed but neither of you moved, “i can join you.”

you held his warm cheeks gently in your gloved hands, “my mom will chase you out of the building.”

“you’re worth it.”

you gave him a soft smile as he finally stood up straighter, though keeping his arm around your waist, “we have a lot to talk about…”

he nodded in agreement, “we do… and i’m ready whenever you are.”

–––

you’d texted him five minutes before you were knocking at his door. it was wednesday, so may was out all day on her hospital shift and it felt like the perfect time to talk to peter. clear up the air between you two and hopefully… kiss him some more.

it started in reverse order.

you had been in his room for all of three seconds before the consequences of not seeing each other for two whole days came up. peter was holding your face gently, his lips pressed to yours as you two shared small kisses. your hands were on his arms as he guided the two of you to sit on the edge of his bed, “god, i missed you.” he mumbled, moving one hand to the back of your neck.

“missed you too.” you kissed him again, pushing gently so the two of you were laying down beside each other.

peter looked into your eyes, running his thumb over your cheek, “i was so stupid. to not see what was in front of me all along.”

you shook your head, “i was more stupid. it would have been fine if i never caught feelings for-”

“y/n, i love you.”

your eyes snapped up to his, a warm feeling was blossoming in your chest, unakin to the other times. these blossoms felt different, “you…”

“i should have said it before. before you went away.”

you looked down at that, not knowing that the brunette already knew what was going through your mind. he held your chin between his thumb and index, making you look at him, and you gulped, “peter i…”

“you never got the surgery.” yet again your eyes snapped up to meet his soft, brown ones, “i heard you… talking to your mom.”

“oh.” was all you could utter, not knowing what else to say, “so then…”

“there’s something you should know too.” peter sighed, cutting you off mid sentence and sitting up, making you follow suit, “i… got it too.”

your eyebrows furrowed, “the flowers?”

he nodded once, closing his eyes.

“when…?”

“months back… same time you left. i didn’t know what to say then.” he sighed, shifting so that he was closer to you again, ���i know what to say now. i love you.”

you smiled softly, “you did not just quote star wars.”

“the fact that you remember it makes me love you more.” peter let out a laugh, pressing his forehead against yours.

you leaned in, capturing his lips in a soft kiss.

“promise me something.”

“what?”

“no more flowers.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist (been a while, feel free to ignore): @the-girl-in-the-chair @annathesillyfriend @uwiuwi @spideyspeaches @prancerrparkerr @usergarfields @theglitterymess @quaksonhehe @starlight-starks @piscesparker @incorrectsourwolf @wildxwidow @annab-nana @kelieah @arvinsvintage @parkersdahlia @raajali3 @tommyfroggie @ellabellabus07 @holland-styles @1-800-starkindustrie @feariteriu @wittlewowa @20forty9 @skepticalleo

[moonpascaltoo]

PETER PARKER / SPIDERMAN

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all peter parker stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) <3

MASTERLIST • MARVEL • 07/08/24

peter parker one

@waitimcomingtoo ✰ the way that you were you and Peter reunite at a college party and discover he is no longer the sweet nerd you knew in high school ✰ laundry wars enemies to lovers! you can’t stand the boy who keeps stealing your dryer

@forever-rogue ✰ fake dating

@dameronology ✰ come home peter parker can't protect you from everything, no matter how hard he tries

@pearlfeline ✰ homesick

@angelfic ✰ into the blogosphere peter’s crush is now his chem partner. complicated? not until he finds her blog dedicated to a certain masked vigilante.

@moonstruckme ✰ tasm!peter ✰ big boobs!reader ✰ tasm!peter ✰ whimsical!reader

@urrockstar-xe ✰ winter formal although reader misses hanging around her special spider friend, her crush on a certain peter parker boy has her distracted

@/deactivated blog ✰ close to my heart physical affection has been a part of your friendship since it began years ago, it was only a matter of time peter questioned why he was the only one...on the receiving end of your hugs and kisses.

@masterofmunson ✰ grand gestures You just want Peter to make you a priority again.

@finnwrld ✰ one in the same spiderman visits you everyday and listens to you talk about your massive crush on an unnamed boy, completely oblivious to the fact he and the boy are one in the same.

@sapphireplums ✰ one more chance peter lost you once in his world, but when he crosses paths with you again in another world, he is determined to let you know how he feels.

@dilf-lover99 ✰ the secrets we keep Reader and Peter have been together for over a year, but lately Peter’s been acting strange. When a rumour goes around that he’s cheating, will Peter finally confess the secret he’s been keeping?

@/deactivated blog ✰ three more kisses three times you dodge his kiss and the one time he dodges yours (unsuccessfully)

@ptersparkers ✰ crush peter has been visiting you as spider-man long enough to develop a crush on you. the problem? you have a crush on somebody else.

@obislittleone ✰ who are you really

@mrsstarkey1 ✰ nice to meet you after doctor strange wipes everyones memories of peter parker, he meets a girl in a coffee shop

@talaok ✰ training Peter has never been able to last enough to take care of you, but as it turns out... practice does make perfect.

@mediocre-daydreams ✰ cardigan

@reysdriver ✰ creepy crawlies You call your neighbour for help when you spot a spider in your kitchen

@websterss ✰ memories remain Based off of the trailer where Peter says, “So MJ’s gonna forget about everything we’ve ever been through?” ✰ screw fate Dr. Strange tells Peter that in every existing universe you don’t make it, yet the multiverse has other plans. ✰ can’t catch a break the lab scene and a jealous Tom/Peter cause Andrews/Peter been starring at reader cause she reminds him of Gwen ✰ my atlantis, we fall instead of aunt may dying it’s the reader. ✰ unforgettable after the spell, when peter walks into the diner the reader recognizes him

@thursdaygxrls ✰ infrunami peter’s memory is really good (no it’s not)

@wokeupinmars ✰ the peace treat-y (comes with sprinkles)

@webslingingslasher ✰ arguments

@multi-fandom-imagine ✰ i will stand by you forever sender asks receiver to stay the night because they don’t want to be alone and they end up cuddling

@ptergwen ✰ the last time ✰ love is more than a word after nearly four years together, peter has stopped trying. ✰ something to remember me by ✰ welcome to the group peter tries to reintroduce himself to reader ✰ home with you you remember spider-man, but you don’t remember peter… or so he thinks

@spider-stark ✰ spider-boy Thinking he has no chance with y/n as himself, Peter begins approaching them as Spider-Man.

@a-reader-and-a-writer ✰ a second chance ✰ along came a spider

@stylesparker ✰ i know that voice

@lovely-seren1ty ✰ a second chance

@jin0 ✰ lovesick teacher

@softspideys ✰ pain you can feel people’s pain just by touching them. what happens when you touch peter?

@wanndavision ✰ it’s so sweet Peter Parker isn't sure of a lot of things, but his love for you was never a question in his mind.

@genesisrose74 ✰ movie nights and makeshift medics It’s Thursday, and Peter doesn’t realize you’re in his room until he’s quite literally crawling through the window. ✰ no words needed Peter’s love language is something of which he is very deprived. You’re his exception.

@softtdaisy ✰ try again after the event of nwh, peter wants to prove you he’s ready to fight for you. only to realize you forgot about him. ✰ my own peter after dating peter 1 for a while, it breaks your heart to see him with mj. peter 3 will do everything he can to prove you, you are enough. Especially after losing you, the love of his life, in his own universe.

@darling-im-wonderstruck ✰ don’t want to miss a thing getting peter to sleep wasn’t going to be as difficult as you’d thought.

@starktonyx ✰ ten percent You’ve been sick for past year and everyone in the tower knows except for Peter Parker, the guy you love. When he accidentally finds out, he’s not very supportive on your medical decisions. ✰ daises Everyone is born with the last words they ever hear from their soulmate written on their arm.

@literaila ✰ reverence; rebellion finally, a decision is made. and spider-man finds your room. 

@blooming-violets ✰ i’m with you

@murdock-potter ✰ after the snow none of the hospital staff knew who he was, or why he visited you every single day

@irndad ✰ orbitational pull peter is disastrously bad at talking about how he feels

@stresslessbaaby ✰ baby you and peter broke up because he kept too many secrets. is there any way to come back from that?

@embrassemoi ✰ anything but bug spray! Peter never realized the extent his spider senses overrode his human ones until faced with a robber armed with cans of bug spray.

@liz-allyn ✰ sugar and spice mob!peter (series is on authors page)

[vettelsvee]

these people are the only thing my tiktok fyp is about. do you know what that means? spidey!seb in hold on to hope is coming soon (while i work on my upcoming 1/15 series meeting, guest starring toro rosso!seb and toro rosso intern!reader)

also… my tumblr it too dead, so… hit the anon button and ask me something, let’s talk about my works, how you all are doing… because it’s weird seeing this so silent 😭

[jul-es]

Can someone direct me to some Peter Parker angst that tugs at your heartstrings but has a happy ending? Please send me lists!

[astxroiid]

empire state of mind // masterlist

tasm!peter parker x reader

✩ when you're long-time crush comes up to you, asking you out - you say yes right? But what happens if he misses the date? Also, what happens if you ask him on another date?

wc: 4.1k

navigation

✩ i : new york private life

✩ ii : empire state of mind

✩ iii : manhattan longing

[shadowyhideoutpeace]

Marvel Fics

(updated 09/08/24)

Loki Laufeyson

Fluff

What He Doesn't Know Won't Hurt Him

SECRETS

Magic show

Combat Training

A fool with a bullet wound

Series

FROM THE VOID, WITH LOVE

Smut

Loki Laufeyson Masterlist

Masterlists

Thor Odinson

Fluff

Carolina Reaper

Imagine Thor doesn’t think he can get drunk

Idunn's Apples

A Royal Pregnancy

You Have To Learn

Angst

Smut

Guardian!reader and Thor

fertility god

keep burning

Mornings

Masterlists

Masterlist CharnelHouse

Matt Murdock

Smut

Deprivation

Wicked Games

Masterlists

fettuccin-e

Peter Parker (TASM & Tom)

Fluff

baby spider

Flirty bully coming your way

Masterlists

fettuccin-e

Namor/ KuKulkan

Fluff

The Unexpected- The Proposal | Explanations and Surprise Visits

Sweet like mango

Baby, all at once, this is enough

THE KING'S PROPOSAL

Angst

…Story Imagine…

The Depths You’ll Go

Delayed Fate

Smut

con la brisa

oneshot

Namor x Reader!waterbender/powers

Series

Unfulfilled

Child without love

The Stranger

Mi Amor

doctor

Peter/Pietro Maximoff

Fluff

Taking a Bubble Bath with Peter Maximoff

SMUT

Use Me

Masterlist

essie’s masterlist

Druig

Fluff

For Eternity ❦

A fic where the eternals don't know you're a thing with Druig

For You? I Do

Eros Flirts with the Wrong Eternal

sunshine & kisses

Disbelief

Troublemaker

Smut

“‘No’? You’re such a bad liar.”

𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

Angst

unrequited love

Masterlists

Druig ~ Masterlist

[therealflickerman]

Split Lips Masterlist (TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader)

This series is canon compliant to TASM one but will be a lot different!

[ON HIATUS] kinda of… updates are slow and rare—though it will be picked up again after I graduate!!

series summary: Its simple hating peter parker, the cocky asshole who has made it his mission to one up you every chance he gets. In the same vein, its simple loving spiderman, the sweet masked vigilante who has made it his mission to ensure your safety. How simple will it prove to be when the two worlds meet.

content : angst, blood and injury, friends to lovers, death, death of parents, academic rivals to lovers, fluff and banter, idiots in love, mutual pining, happy ending, hurt comfort (r & p receiving), no smut!!, small emetophobia warning, fem!reader, anxious reader, lowk autisitc!reader but thats just my headcannon and not confirmed in the fic, not use of y/n, no description of race/ appearance (although she is able bodied for the most part).

four chapters/ ten chapters

CHAPTER 1

you finally get the chance to one up peter and officially have the honour of meeting the friendly neighbourhood spiderman that everyone has been talking about.

CHAPTER 2

You never want Peter Parker around, but you find he tents to show up whenever you need him.

CHAPTER 3

Spiderman takes you for a swing and shows you why he does what he does.

CHAPTER 4

You try your hardest to hide what you can from Peter though you can't help when secrets slip through your fingers.

[cherri-tomato]

Venomous.

Chapter 2: Coffee Cups

Pairing: SpiderMan x fem!venom!reader

Chapter Summary: Y/n's hunger grows, Venom is a pain, and Peter provides some much needed comfort.

Chapter content: non-descriptive vomiting, eating

Series masterlist

<Previous Next>

Y/n woke up with a pounding headache and a biting hunger. She rolled over. It was Saturday, she remembered, then the rest of her memories hit her, and she sat straight up, eyes wide.

“...Venom?” she spoke into her empty room, and she'd never been so glad she’d forked over that extra money for a single room as she was in that moment. Her breathing hitched as the same black head from the night before poked itself out from around her shoulder, and she was barely able to stop herself from screaming as its white eyes—if you could call them that—bore into hers. She could see her own horrified reflection in them.

“That’s me—or rather, us.” 

She took a deep breath. “What are you?” Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides and Venom's strange head tilted.

“Veno-” 

She cut it off with a swift shake of her head. “No. I mean what are you? not who.” Venom just stared at her, and she wondered if maybe it didn't understand her somehow, but then it spoke again. 

“We are a symbiote. And you-” its face moved closer. “You are our host.” 

She shuddered. “And…you eat…people?” 

Venom moved its head in the same way someone would move their hand when making a ‘so-so’ gesture, and her eyebrows knitted together. “Brains,” it corrected, and another wave of revulsion fell over her.

She choked out a noise like a pained animal. “Jesus.” Her next words tasted bitter on her tongue as she said them. “So…that guy last night-”

Venom licked its teeth; if it could grin any wider she was sure it would have. “Was a bit lacking in the brains department, but it'll tide me over I suppose~” 

She really was going to be sick. throwing her blankets to the side and rushing into her bathroom. She threw up once, then again for good measure, before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and falling back against the wall. Her breaths came out in hard pants as she contemplated her current predicament. A brain eating…thing, symbiote, whatever—had taken over her body, and had used said body to bite a guy's head off. Right.

She threw up again at the thought. 

It took about 20 minutes before she finally got herself off the floor and made her way to the mini fridge that held all the food—she knew someone would steal if it was in the shared dormitory kitchen—and some water bottles that she immediately chugged, ignoring the way half the water spilt down her chin and soaked the front of her shirt. By the time she had drunk every one of the 7 or so bottles, she could practically feel her stomach eating itself with hunger, and she got to work devouring the rest of the contents of her fridge. 

Saturday passed in a blur of getting sick, arguing with venom and eating food that made her sick. She fell asleep at around 10 pm, which was actually fairly early for her, and woke up at 4 am feeling parched, nauseous and starving in a way she hadn't felt before. She groaned and then gasped as Venom´s head entered her field of view, “FUCK! Do you have to do that?!” She sat up, rubbing at her face until her skin was red.

“If you feed us, we’ll stop,” Venom hissed, and y/n promptly laid back down and covered her face with her pillow.

The dorm kitchen was mercifully empty when y/n eventually made her way downstairs; her hunger had gotten worse and she desperately wanted to eat. The fridge didn’t have much in it—most people did what she had been doing, keeping a mini fridge in their dorm room—and what was there was fairly bare bones. 

She ate what was there, silently apologizing to her dorm mates for eating all their food, but still felt the sickening hunger in her stomach. 

Venom’s voice spoke then. “Come on kid, it doesn’t even need to be human. Just some sheep or cows.” 

She shuddered. “How do I know you won’t just go on a rampage the minute I let you take over?” Her voice was shaky. She wanted to say no, to tell venom to shove it, but she was so hungry. “No…I can’t just…”

She sighed, grabbed a bottle of water and quickly made her way back to her room.

────────────

When Monday came, y/n was tired, miserable and starving.

Her classes started that afternoon, advanced calc first, then art history, and finally photography class. She’d realized far too late that she had in fact lost her camera, surmising it was probably destroyed or buried under debris in that god forsaken laboratory. 

“Shit,” she muttered as she dug through her backpack in search of the device, only to pull out loose papers and textbooks.

“Y/n, if you could take your seat?” The photography teacher's stern voice brought her out of her spiraling thoughts. She cleared her throat uncomfortably before zipping her bag back up and heading to her desk, head ducked.

Y/n’s seat was beside a tall brunette boy named Peter Parker. They hadn't ever talked much; a simple ‘hi, how are you?' or ‘did you complete the homework assignment?’—it was friendly, but she wouldn't call it friendship. 

Peter nodded in greeting as she took her seat beside him, her head immediately landing on her desk as she dropped her bag. “Woah, someone’s tired. You okay?” Peter inquired, offering her a boyish smile. She turned her head to look at him, and somewhere in her sleep deprived, starving, mind, venom eyed the young man with unmistakable interest, or rather, hunger. 

“Oh, he’s definitely got a juicy brain in that little head of his~” 

She nearly choked on her spit, immediately sitting up and looking forward, keeping her eyes off the brown haired man. 

Something was placed in front of her, and when she looked down she saw that Peter had moved his paper coffee cup into her line of sight. Her eyes darted over to him. Was he teasing her with the knowledge he had made the clever decision to get some caffeine, or offering it to her?

“I haven't drank from it yet. No germs, I promise,” he said while nudging it closer to her. The smell of hot coffee filled her senses. 

“Seriously?” her hand was already half lifted towards the cup, and peter snorted then nodded. 

“Yeah, no cooties I swear.” 

She rolled her eyes, her fingers already wrapped around the warm beverage as she spoke again, “no, i mean are you seriously giving this to me?” She asked. 

Peter was pulling his books out of his bag and placing them on the desk as he waved her off, “you clearly need it more than i do.”

And then it was her turn to chuckle as she lifted the steaming drink to her lips and took a long gulp. The liquid burned her tongue but she ignored it, drinking at least half of it before putting it down and sighing. Peter's taste in coffee was different from hers; the drink was bitter with a slight hint of chocolate and caramel that left a tangy but pleasant aftertaste in her mouth.

Peter was watching her with a raised eyebrow and an amused smirk on his lips “late night?” He sounded just as amused as he looked, and y/n came to the realization he probably assumed she was hungover or something. 

She felt the sudden urge to defend herself, but how was she supposed to explain she hadn't been up all night partying but was instead being tormented by a symbiote that had invaded her life and had been yelling at her to find a brain to eat…yeah, that definitely wouldn't go over well.

Y/n only shrugged, chewing her bottom lip—which had become bitten and raw over the weekend—and Peter's amused expression turned into one of worry. His hand landed on her shoulder in the type of comforting touch one would expect from a friend rather than a virtual stranger, and her skin prickled under her shirt.

“Seriously,” Peter started speaking again, “are you okay?” 

She managed a small nod and Peter's hand dropped, which Y/n was immensely grateful for since she could hear Venom’s hungry thoughts gnawing at the back of her mind.

Her skin was still tingling as the professor started the lesson and began to speak about lighting techniques or something, Y/n wasn't exactly listening.

She stopped at a butcher after class, purchasing as much raw meat as possible with her…limited resources, before quickly making her way back to her dorm, pointedly avoiding the few people she passed as she shoved her door open. 

Venom didn't wait long before emerging, devouring the raw meat with only two bites before disappearing into her and saying, “This won't satisfy us for long.” She knew that. “You know what you have to do.” She did, though that didn't make the reality of her situation any less sickening.

“You can't just expect me to go around eating innocent people.” 

Venom made a noise that was probably an equivalent to a scoff, and she clenched her fist. “You didn't have much of an issue with it last time.” 

She grit her teeth. The feeling of bile rising in her throat had become upsettingly familiar since Venom’s arrival. “What other choice did I have?” Y/n pulled her knees to her chest, the memory of that woman, huddled in a corner and shaking with fear, somehow haunted her more than what she—what Venom—had done to protect her. 

Venom’s head poked out from around her shoulder and she flinched; the sight of its tar-like face and empty eyes was hardly a comforting one. “Come on, kid,” Venom spoke, “a couple less bad eggs wouldn't be a bad thing.”

She scoffed. “And what happens if someone sees me—you? Venom.” It was all very confusing to talk about. 

Venom laughed, and the sound did nothing to quell the unease twisting in her gut. “An extra snack~” 

She glared at the grinning head that was Venom. “Oh, shut up. Just because you have no moral compass doesn't mean I'm the same…” 

She rubbed her face with her hands and forced herself to stand. Upon walking over to her desk, she rummaged through her bag until she pulled the culmination of crumpled papers that was her homework out, and set to work on it.

────────────

The next day, Peter was waiting in his usual seat with two cups of steaming coffee, one placed in front of her usual spot.

────────────

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[b3ans0up]

Spidy~❤ 🕸

[sincericida]

ANDREW GARFIELD

for The Glass Magazine (October, 2021 | 📷 Michael Schwartz)

[scorpiomother]

APOCALYPSE (pt. three)

･ﾟ★ . remember that you are dust and to dust, you shall return

summary: there’s no way you can put a label on what you and peter are. friends with benefits aren’t even the proper term. he pisses you off but reels you back in every time...

word count: 10.1k (holy hell)

warnings: explicit content. minors dni (+18) seggsy times w/ dom! peter on x games mode, but nothing too crazy i think ;p

playlist 𓆩♡𓆪 mood board 𓆩♡𓆪 read on ao3 𓆩♡𓆪 series mlist 𓆩♡𓆪 masterlist 𓆩♡𓆪 kofi 

← chapter two 

ACQUAINTED 

You were self-destructive. That’s what you had decided the second time you let Peter into your apartment. The third and fourth times, you decided that this was so very feminist and empowering of you. You were the modern woman! Casual sex was so easy.

It’s been two weeks since your first date with Peter and the nights eventually blended together and you lost count of the times he came over. You couldn’t help it when your social life amounted to nothing, and Peter was not one to deny sex.

You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was ruining everything for you. So technically, you were self-destructive and feminist all at the same time. (Also, very modern woman of you).

The ghost of him lingered. There were bags of coffee in your pantry for him to drink after fucking you. (You assumed it was so that he would have enough energy to make his way back to Queens and avoid sleeping over at all costs). His records started to mix in with your own collection. (His forgetful dumb ass never remembering to take them with him). Your own bed sheets were stained with the smell of him. (A mix of his evergreen shampoo and your own body wash that he would use). It’s like he was deliberately making you addicted to him. He simply ruined the comfort of your own home.

Not to mention, it was nearly impossible for you to focus on work anymore. Harry often found you with a blank stare and you had a hard time keeping up with the endless amount of emails and paperwork. You were either daydreaming about having sensual sex with him or if he liked you the way that you liked him (which you easily doubted).

You have never been so mentally absent in your life. It was like Peter took that sane part of you with him. That bastard.

Today was no different. The work day went by slowly and for a long while, Peter’s veined hands on your hips were the topic of interest in your mind. It was an early symptom of your impeding love sick disease. Not that you were in love with Peter or anything.

It always began like that. A superficial, sometimes aroused, thought. And then it would snowball into something more skin-deep.

You were filing paperwork, something you would normally push to the side, but with your wandering mind, you needed to do something that required less amount of thinking so that you could think about more important things. Like self-reflection and relationships. Like how the fuck did you let this happen. This being your somewhat of a relationship with Peter.

After that rainy afternoon to evening sex, you thought you would never see Peter again, and eventually, at two in the morning, you convinced yourself that you liked it that way before falling asleep. Two perfect orgasms in one night by handsome and mysterious Peter Parker? Who cared if you didn’t click? You definitely clicked in your apartment. And that’s a big win!

Peter Parker was nothing and you were going to move about your weekend like he wasn’t life-altering or anything! It was a one-night stand and people had one-night stands all of the time.

What was crazy and possibly unfortunate, was that Peter was at your front door the next morning. It was too early for you to be awake, your Sunday’s normally not starting until the afternoon. You hadn’t expected anyone at your door, let alone Peter. If you knew it was Peter, you would’ve fixed your hair a bit better.

When you opened the door, your breath immediately hitched at the sight of your unannounced guest.

Peter was donned in casual wear with the same backpack from the day before hanging on his shoulder, now dry. While you were adoring him in his gray sweatpants, you could feel his gaze on your body. Your pajamas, short and sheer, revealed to Peter all of the marks he made on you. You bit your lip before acknowledging his presence.

Your cheeks buzzed with a combination of shyness and eagerness. “Peter? Did you forget something?”

His eyes clung to your breasts for another second before granting you his full attention.

“I got you… um, something, and I didn’t have your number,” he shrugged. You looked at his hand and saw the plastic Walgreens bag in his grasp.

“I know the sex was really good-”

“Really, really good,” he corrected.

His quick interjection made a laugh bubble in your chest. “Right. But, my hand in marriage, Peter?”

“I know, I’m such a romantic,” he shrugged..

“I have such a shit memory…How’d you remember where I live?”

“Put a tracker on you. You know, nothing crazy,” Peter said, putting the bag in your possession, the crinkles making your ears tingle.

“Smart,” you said taking the plastic in your hands. When you opened up the bag there was a small purple box causing you to let out a snicker. “Wow. Hand delivered Plan B? What a gentleman…”

Peter rubbed the back of his head, clearly embarrassed.

“I just felt really bad about not offering to use a condom or anything. And I’m clean, no doubt about it. So you don’t have to worry about it,” he said.

“Oh, thank you! I mean according to my period tracker I shouldn’t be ovulating, but I’ll take this anyways,” you found yourself oversharing, accommodating for his own discomfort.

“Yeah, can’t have mini me’s running around,” he smirked.

Your grin turned into a full-fledged, teeth and all smile. “Definitely not.”

Although the awkwardness of the situation made you cringe, it didn’t stop you from noticing how Peter looked so cute and sleepy-eyed. His messy tussles of hair were begging you to just hold on. It was sickening how terribly gravitated you were by him.

Your mouth was doing that thing again. Speaking without permission. “Don’t you think we should get your money’s worth?”

Peter tilted his head and soon after grinned, quick to unscramble your riddle. “Ah you don’t mean…”

“I do mean...” You pressed your thighs together at the thought of having him in you again. He had to have spent about fifty dollars on the small pill. Living in New York wasn’t cheap and neither was being a full-time student for Peter! It was in both of your best interests to make this count.

“I have class in an hour.” His words held no meaning when his eyes wandered to your thighs. It was just words and actions meant more. His feet were planted, unyielding, not ready to leave your apartment. You took a mental note that Peter noticed everything. And you were going to use it to your advantage

It wasn’t in your nature to be so bold, but every part of your body begged to please Peter. Let me your good girl, your neurons snapped and fired and pleaded.

“We don’t have to take an hour,” you said licking your lips.

Peter shook his head with a sinful grin before he took a step into your apartment, his backpack already flung to the floor to be forgotten for the next fifteen minutes.“You and your bright ideas…”

That was the third time Peter Parker came inside of you. Out of God who knows many times! The only difference was that you were now on birth control, an easy pick-up with your covered insurance. Thank you OSCORP!

When you reflect back, all you can do is blame it all on Peter. Though, you often noticed how you were always the one to initiate the sex. But it wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for him and his eyes that made you feel like you were drunk all the time.

It was easier to be the victim than to purge all contact from Peter. Because that was what you would have to do if you weren’t the victim.

Finally, you had finished filing the large stack of paper on your desk. At least you could go home today and say that you completed something successfully. It was a Friday and you were antsy to go home. Not because of anything particular, but you were barely sleeping whether it was up from late nights with Peter or nights alone and thinking of Peter, both equally leaving you with a lack of restful nights.

As you sat back comfortably in your chair, you let out a sigh as if you were working yourself to the bone.

“You’ve been really tired recently, huh?”

When you look up, your eyes fixated on Harry in a well-fitted, navy suit.

“Blue suits you,” you said as he sat on your desk.

“Don’t tell me, you and Parker are having late nights,” he grinned, leaning forward on his knees. Perhaps to assert dominance. Show off the way that he knows what you have been up to.

“No, I just haven’t been sleeping well,” you scoffed.

“Right. From all of your late nights with him,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Respectfully, fuck off, Mr. Osborn.”

“Whatever you say, Y/N.” Harry hopped off the desk and proceeded to crack his knuckles. You watched as he walked around the foyer.

“Did you bring lunch today?” He said.

“No, I didn’t have time to pack anything.”

“Great. Join me? My treat,” Harry flashed a smug smirk.

It was a douchebag’s peace offering. One that you weren’t going to pass up.

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

The cherry pie in front of Harry taunted you as you nibbled on the leafy greens and ruby red tomatoes on your plate.

“Pie for lunch. You’re living the life.”

“I told you to order whatever you like,” Harry laughed, pointing his sugar-coated fork at you to emphasize his words.

Harry had decided on a small bistro a couple of blocks away from OSCORP. You had expected to walk to lunch, but Prince Harry had other plans that involved a black Mercedes Benz and a personal driver. Spoiled, you thought to yourself in the luxurious car.

“And I like this,” you gestured to your vibrant salad.

Harry scoffed, preceding to shake his head at your remark. “Yeah right.”

“Bite me,” you said after taking a mouthful of the arugula in your mouth, giving Harry a dorky smile with greens in between your teeth. “Careful for what you wish for.”

In a way, you were thankful that Harry continued with the snide comments and flirty remarks even though you were seeing his best friend. It was the only normalcy you had at the moment and you knew you could count on his smart mouth. Harry would burst at the seams if he knew how you looked forward to his banter.

Harry placed the fork down and rested his chin on his palm. “So what are you guys?”

You let out an aggravated sigh. “Harry, I’m not going to talk to you about this.”

“Fuck professionalism, I set you up on that date. I deserve to know what’s the deal with you two.”

“I don’t owe you anything, Harry,” you said plainly.

What was there to say to Harry? You clearly weren’t dating Peter Parker, but you wouldn’t go out of your way to say that you were friends with benefits. It was hard to find the exact terminology for what you two were to each other. You could say “fuck buddies” but that didn’t feel right either. It felt like you were sex acquaintances. Acquainted with each other through sex, that’s all. Because saying “friends with benefits” would entail that you were friends or that you know remotely anything about each other.

You didn’t know how to comprehend the situation-ship.

What was worse was that you were suppressing any feelings for him because it was easy to enjoy someone's company when they were making you cum. He touched you like he loved and worshipped you, but despite everything, he continued to be distant and mentally absent from you aside from the banter you shared. It was confusing.

It all felt like shallow banter and hollow flirting.

When it came down to it, you both didn’t know much about one another. When you don’t share a real conversation with one another, but spend a consequential amount of time together, that leaves room for observation. He didn’t have to say a thing for you to know him. You could tell when he was anxious or had a lot on his mind. It was simple observation and emotional cognition, but it felt like he didn’t have that same understanding for you. He didn’t watch and study you the way that you did.

It felt silly to search for a fleeting moment of bliss with him. You were chasing that recklessly. Somehow it was worse to be in love with Peter than be with Harry you realize. Peter was secretive and you were greedy. It didn’t mix well.

You were embarrassed to admit that you wanted more of him.

“Why don’t you ask Peter?”

“He won’t tell me a thing,” he shrugged.

Peter didn’t talk about you. It was both relieving and hurtful. But maybe it was for the best that Harry had nothing to say about it so he couldn’t tell you that this was a bad idea or that Peter was just using you. Both equally terrible news.

Harry’s eyes searched for the reason that caused you visible distress. All you could do was let out a breath that brought no real relief and give Harry a response.“I don’t know what we are, okay?”

Harry’s eyes softened. “What do you want to be?”

A snort escaped from you. It was a hilarious question, something you never let yourself truly think about. “Again, I don’t know.”

The sexual compatibility was transpicuous and it was so unbelievably clear how easy it was to fall into one another. Yet, there was always something holding Peter back. The way that he would part his lips and momentarily light up, just to throw away a semblance of spark in himself. It seemed as though he was constantly at war with himself.

You wanted to tell him to snap out of it and quit holding back.

You started to fork around the vegetables. Pushed the lettuce to the outer rim and rolled the tomatoes in circles. Poked and prodded at the cucumber. You lost your appetite.

“I’m just curious, Y/N. Need to know if I have to beat his ass or not,” Harry said with his eyes stuck on your plate. You couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bare to see his pity.

You gave him a hollow laugh. “I’d like to see you try.”

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

The sunlight was what woke you up at first.

The luster of amber had seeped into your bedroom and stirred you awake. It was Saturday morning, and you didn’t catch up on any sleep. In Harry’s words, you had another late night with Peter. You threw your bedsheets over your head. You partially dozed off before an arm slung around your body, stirring your consciousness to be more present.

The sudden warmth and presence of another confused you. You propped yourself up with your elbow and looked at the mess of brown hair on the adjacent pillow.

“Peter?” You said bewildered at the sight.

Peter was sleeping on his stomach, the white comforter draped along his lower back like a gossamer robe on a Grecian. His face was away from you and all you could see was his naked back and mop of hair. It wasn’t his glorious, toned back that had your heart racing, but more so that he was there at all.

“Hmmm?” Peter’s hand softly rubbed on your hip to acknowledge you. Your instincts were to grab his hand and hold it tightly, kiss his knuckles even. His touch burned into you.

It was hard to recall how last night ended. You don’t remember specifically falling asleep with Peter. You just remember falling asleep immediately. Whether Peter stayed or not wasn’t a question you were thinking about anymore, you just knew that he was going to leave. That was the routine.

You felt your voice go meek, but you forced the words out. “You stayed over?”

“I guess I did…” He mumbled, his face still smothered in pillows and sheets. His morning voice was raspy and made your stomach churn. “I’m sorry. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just surprised.” You were talking to a head of hair, but it somehow made it easier to talk to him. His eyes weren’t coercing you or turning you into a babbling idiot.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Peter and all of his apologies. It made you want to hold him in your arms and tell him that he has nothing to be sorry about. Instead, you soaked up the view of him in the morning. Here. With you.

“It’s okay, Peter.”

“Can I stay a bit longer?”

“You’re an idiot,” you said, falling back into bed.

You snaked your arm around his back, his skin hot to the touch, and spooned him, something you had never dared to do.

His skin smelled warm. Aromatic.

Lavender and tonka bean perfumed your sheets, turning Peter into a casualty.

He smelled like your lotion. 

You understood what he meant when he said he wanted to eat you. You wanted to bite into his shoulder and inhale him until there was no more room in your lungs.

You hoped your embrace was enough to convey that you wanted him to stay more than anything. For once you didn’t care what he thought and you didn’t care if you were overstepping boundaries. You only wanted to let the morning sun kiss your back as your eyelashes fluttered against Peter’s shoulder blades.

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

An hour later, you properly woke up, but this time Peter wasn’t with you and the sun was no longer seeping through the blinds. A sense of relief flooded you. The idea that you didn’t have to confront him about his stay and try to make sense of everything brought you comfort, even if it would’ve been nice to wake up to him and his sleepy eyes.

The Peter-shaped dent in the mattress was proof that he had slept over. With your foolish heart and tired eyes, you were unsure if what you saw had been an apparition, a dream at best. Your eyes searched for further evidence. 

When you looked at the nightstand on his side, you saw a Polaroid and a single picture. Stretching out your arm, you took the photo between your fingers and examined it. Oddly enough, it was a picture of you.

The morning light illuminated the room with a halo-like essence around you, the yellow sheen bouncing off from your shoulder blades. There was the slightest visual of your lips past all of the hair, your bottom lip protruding- a pretty pout for Peter. It was almost angelic.

For a long time, you lay in bed with your hand in the air, the picture staring back at you. You have never had such a pretty photograph of yourself before and you wanted to memorize each detail.

Did this mean anything?

Normally, you held up the dam of your feelings with ease, but for some reason, your hold was slipping. The water was making its way past the cracks, the barrier useless against all of the thoughts flooding your mind. It was overwhelming. You were losing your control over a picture. Peter sleeping over didn’t even make you this dizzy.

In your mind, the sleepover was merely an accident, but implementing the two-thirds composition rule and pressing the shutter button wasn’t an accident. How could that be an accident?

You held it in your hand as you left your bedroom, unable to part with such an offering. Walking to the kitchen with the photo in one hand, you began to hear some noises and realized that Peter had never left. This sudden realization made you grasp tighter onto the photo as if Peter was going to snatch it out of your hand.

Peter finally came into view— a tummy-turning view at that. Shirtless and focused, he moved fluidly around your kitchen as if it was his kitchen. He was rummaging through cabinets, pouring liquid, and playing with mugs, all the while his back flexing with each movement. The marks you left from last night were still red on his skin. 

“Oh, I thought you left,” you said.

“You always think I’m leaving or something,” he chuckled without looking back at you.

Because you always leave, your mind hissed back. You swatted the intrusive and petty thoughts away, pushing them behind all of your unpacked feelings about Peter. 

You sat at the dining table and tried your best to remain calm as if this was another ordinary morning with Peter. Another ordinary morning with Peter who took pretty photos of you while you slept.

Didn’t he know? Candids were for people you cared about. 

You took the photo and put it behind your thigh. The slick film was cool to the touch. A reminder that you were something so beautiful that Peter stopped to take a picture. It was a stretch, but furthermore, you didn't know how to talk about it yet. It was better to hide it beneath you than talk to Peter about his actions.

“Am I overstaying my welcome?” he asked, continuing his task at hand.

“Not at all.” 

You were lying. If he knew you any better, he would’ve known the way that you wiggled your nose. A small bluff that even Harry knows.

Of course, you were lying! He changed the routine. He’s getting your hopes up. 

“Good, 'cause I was about to pour your tea down the drain if that was the case.”

Your heart fluttered. Peter at the very least cared about you! Who makes tea for someone you don’t care about? Psychos?

“You made me tea?”

He turned around, his front side now a view to you, with the two mugs in his hands and a grin on his face. “Figured you didn’t want any coffee,” he said before setting your mug on the table.

“You figured right,” you murmured, taking a deep inhale of the cup. 

Rather than sit at the table with you, Peter leaned on the counter and took a sip of his drink.

Peter Parker in the morning was strangely generous, or at least more generous than normal. This pit of feelings was getting deeper and deeper within the hour. Your imminent descent was going to be fatal, you thought as you blew on the mug.

Peter’s brown tufts of hair were out of place and he wore a lazy, yet satisfied grin. He was the poster child for the sexy morning look. You wanted to avert your eyes and save yourself from all the drool, but who knew when was the next time you would see Peter like this?

This interaction was all too casual for you. All too domestic.

Shuffling around your kitchen as if it was his. Making you tea with his own free will as if he knew you like the back of his hand.  Photographing small moments that he wanted as a keepsake as if you were his and someone he would want to treasure.

And it would’ve been so easy for you to give everything up to him.

For fuck’s sake, he made you tea, and now, you’re willing to do anything for him?

No, you weren’t that weak and you weren’t that hypnotized. Peter was a man, who only comes to you for one thing and one thing only.

Your eyes fell from the rim of his glasses to his toned abs and the faint bulge in his shorts, convincing yourself that you wanted him for one thing and one thing only. You definitely did not want to stare into his eyes and exchange intimate secrets with Peter. Only partake in physical activities with him.

A certain quietness sat still between you two. The only sound in the kitchen was alternating sounds of Peter taking sips and you blowing your tea. Not even the normal New York white noise was apparent to you. You were completely absorbed with this small pod of yours that just so happened to have Peter Parker.

Were you supposed to be acting like everything was okay? When in fact you weren’t okay?

The herbal steam mixed in with your breath, the air around you warm. Normally that warmth would be relaxing, but you felt sticky.  You were oddly hyper-aware of the polaroid beneath your thighs, the film adhering to your skin. You peeled it off and held it in your lap, still hidden from Peter. The border felt grainy between your fingers. What did this mean? You felt dull compared to the girl who was golden and sun-soaked in the picture.

You had this certain itch that urged you to let the questions spill right out, but that would be so fully you. Your impulsive mouth was what got you here. 

You watched Peter take a sip from his mug, his eyes on the wood floor. If you don’t say anything, Peter will stay quiet and stare at the ground until he realizes it’s his time to leave.

Maybe your mouth was a good thing.

“Is this me?” You asked, finally holding the picture up.

When his eyes reached the photo in your hands, he took another sip. Peter was unfazed. There was no change in his posture, your findings deeming no surprise to him. He was still enjoying his coffee like someone does when they have no secrets to hide.

For some reason, that didn’t sit well with you. A part of you yearned for a reaction out of him, something that told you more about him. A smile that said, you found it. Or rosy cheeks that wished he hid it properly.

“Oh, right. I hope you don’t mind,” he said cooly. “It’s for a class of mine.”

For a class. Not recreational enjoyment or holding any sentiment.

You couldn’t help but frown at him. “Kind of creepy, Peter.” 

He tilted his head in confusion. “Shit, really?”

You wanted to turn this around and make him feel silly. What are you doing taking pictures of unconscious girls? Make him feel like the asshole. ‘Cause he was an asshole. An asshole for making you feel crazy.

Instead, you relinquished the photo to the table. “I’m just joking with you. It’s a nice photo.”

“Thank you.”

You swirled the mug in your hands, the liquid nearly spilling. Disappointment sat in your chest and you yearned for reassurance. You wished he was different.

One would assume that after spending a couple of weeks together, your connection with Peter would have grown, even minutely. But it feels like the first day of your meeting with him. Physically near, yet so far away.

"You know, it felt like you didn’t like me at the coffee shop.” You find yourself admitting.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm, weird.”

“Right,” you squinted your eyes at him, searching for his thoughts. “Weird.”

You expected him to say kind, heartfelt words. Words that fit around your syllabus. Of course, I liked you on our first date. Or I like you now, don’t I? But he was never one to omit that type of stuff. He couldn't even lie about it. Instead, he says, weird.

The sleepover. The photo. It was all changing your perception and expectations of this relationship. It was criminal.

“I like you on top of me.”

God, did this guy know how to read a room. You didn’t know what to feel with his sudden proclamation. You reluctantly took a sip of your tea, your body unsure what to do with itself. The tea hit the back of your throat, cold and bitter. The warmth had disappeared leaving you disappointed. The warmth in the tea and in Peter.

“I’m sure you like any girl on top of you,” you said unamused while you tried to get over the bitterness in your mouth.

He shrugged, clearly unaware of your feelings. “I will take anything I get.”

Asshole.

You hated moments like this. Uninterested Peter. Peter, who gives you nothing to work with.  You couldn’t even make excuses for him. 

“Ya’ know... I especially like you under me.”

When you looked up, Peter was taking a long sip from his mug. Past the steam, his eyes were glued on you. He was like a lion watching his prey. Ready to devour you.

And these moments were worse. Peter Parker, who resorts to sex. And you, who lets him use you.

Whether he liked you or not on the first date (or even, right now) didn’t matter. It was the answer that he withheld from you. It was the way he never let you in, not even for a moment. You deserved the truth, didn’t you?

You felt irritated. Irritated that he couldn’t be honest and couldn’t go further than having sex with you, as if sex isn’t far enough. Normally, you would push away his indifference or welcome the new sexual tension. But, today wasn’t like all the other days where you accept the role as Peter’s lap dog.

“Why would I like that?” You scoffed at your mug. Brave enough to challenge him and yet you couldn’t bring your eyes to him. It was a pathetic attempt at gaining control, but being confrontational wasn’t your thing. Being Peter’s good girl was your thing. 

“Like what?” He said.

You dragged your tongue across your teeth, the lack of amusement clear on your face. “Being under you,” you said, rolling your eyes.

Your defiance caused a wicked laugh to come out of him.

“You’re serious right now?" His voice was deep and intense making your stomach quick to stir.

You could hear Peter walk closer, making the space between you lessen until his feet were in your eyesight.

"Why wouldn't I be?" You said softly. You meant to be more confident and use your anger as fuel, but your irritation was replaced with anticipation. 

"You're funny." His tone continued to be stern and heavy on your chest. Heavy in your abdomen. 

His hand skimmed your cheek, a barely-there touch before his lips pressed against your forehead like a blessing. Like smudging ash in the shape of a cross on your forehead.

You felt like dust, crumbling into nothing.

“Can I show you?” He whispered.

You opened your mouth to say no, but Peter didn’t give you the chance to answer. He wasn’t asking you, he was warning you. He hoisted you up onto him in one swift motion from the chair to his chest. A whimper had escaped you and so did your aggravation. It was a quick exchange, a flustered feeling now warming your cheeks with this sensation of not knowing what to do with yourself and all of your thoughts.

With a tight grip, he suspended you in the air at the waist. The act said it is so easy to make you mine. You were in his whole possession.

Peter turned you into an atomic bomb compressed into a woman who has no choice but to stay calm as if you were anything but an overwhelmed and confused woman. All you could do was let him pepper kisses along your jaw, hoping that it would burn the turmoil away.

You could never think straight when it came to Peter. You were putty in his hands, and all you could do was dig your nails into his back. You so desperately wanted to be strong, but the way that he held you up by your waist so easily made you aroused.

“Peter...” You moaned. 

“Want me to stop?” His lips moved gently against your soft flesh, the kiss of air prickling at the spots Peter sucked on. The way that he dragged his tongue along your neck made your hips buck. 

“I’ll stop if you ask me to.” He assured you again. It was meaningless words that you didn’t know if you could trust. His roaming hands said he had no intention of stopping. He just wanted to parade his power in front of you. Like a new, shiny toy on Christmas Day. Look at this. Look at the way I make you needy. He was just waiting patiently for your surrender.

Peter continued to make you lightheaded with his hands and his lips and his tongue. After weeks of late-night hookups, he knew what made you weak. He was taking advantage of your sensitivity knowing that you would never dare to ask him to stop. 

He kneaded your ass, his middle finger dragging near your slit in the process. It was clear how wet you were for him when he traced the hem of your moist panties. 

He shifted the thin layer of fabric to the side, your pussy now exposed and vulnerable to him.  When his ring finger brushed against your needy hole, he could feel your chest expand with all the air in the room. 

“Didn’t think so,” he mumbled against your neck. “If you wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t be this wet.”

His lips trailed along your shoulder, leaving sloppy kisses, coaxing out sighs from you. It was like each time he pressed a kiss to you, he was putting oxygen into you and the only thing you could do was exhale it out with a moan before you became overfilled with him.

He was right, you didn’t want him to stop. You just wanted to know if he liked you. That’s all. So you took it out on him with bitter remarks, attempting to shoot bullets in his chest, and instead, he turned the gun around on you. 

Peter’s middle finger found it’s way to your entrance, your voice getting caught in your throat. It easily slipped in, your treacherous pussy sucking it in. To your dismay, he wasn’t gentle at all, vigorously inserting it in and out of you. As your nails dug into his back and his finger pumped into you, your whimpers echoed.

“So sensitive,” he chuckled. Peter’s lips feathered against your ear, a chill tingling at your spine. 

“It’s not funny,” you pouted with your lips pressed against his neck.

He pulled his finger out of you, abandoning your pussy. The emptiness made you whimper. “I mean, it’s pretty funny to me.” 

Peter kept one hand around your ass, holding your weight up while he took his middle finger into his mouth and tasted you. He looked at you with glazed eyes causing a release of butterflies in your stomach. “Be a good girl for me, will you?”

“Maybe, I’ll let you taste yourself on my cock,” he said before spanking your ass. You yelped at the impact, your arms helplessly clenching his chest as if he wasn’t the one who spanked you. God, he was going to make you eat your words.

“You’re not being very nice,” you mewled, the spot where he slapped beginning to burn.

“Good girls get good things,” he whispered before setting you down on the countertop.

The wood was a cold shock to you, your pussy now flush to the table. You were suddenly aware of how naked and raw you were right now, the air around you so / sharp.

He took a step back and examined you like you were his morning meal. His eyes had turned from a hazelnut brown to obsidian black. There was a glint in his eyes that scared you. Gave you fear that pulsed in your empty slit.

He pulled you into him by your hips and your dripping cunt immediately found his hard length. Though you were sitting on the table now, Peter towered over you. He had all the power. He always has. So, you let him do everything. You were too weak to do anything but ball his waistband into your fist. He wanted to put you in your place, and you let him. You were his to kiss and ruin. 

He grabbed your hair and ushered you to his lips. His tongue lapped into your mouth and his hands wandered. You could taste the bitter coffee and it transported you back to the first day you met him.

He has always been disinterested and detached Peter. You never knew what to make out of him back then and you still don’t. 

Kissing him for the first time was unexpected. Unforeseen. But it still felt that way when you were with him, even with him inching closer to you. Your mind constantly thinking, oh, he’s kissing me again as if it was a goddam miracle for him to still want you.

God, were you lost in his touch. Dissolving into his mouth, each kiss to your skin an attempt to get to the center of you like a damn tootsie pop. He kissed you once on the nape of your neck. Twice on your jaw. And the third time, he took you by your lips. 

It was like he was trying to find the answer to the age-old question: how many licks to the center of a tootsie pop? Except it was how many kisses till you fall apart?

For you it wasn’t about how many kisses, but which kiss? Because you fell apart a long time ago. Probably the day he kissed you in the rain. The day he washed your back and pressed a delicate kiss right behind your ear, a place meant for secrets, not kisses. But maybe he was telling you something in another language. Sharing a vulnerability with you that you didn’t know.

Your head was dizzy with the thought. The feeling that Peter had broken you apart was enough to make you shudder. He was peeling back your skin till you were nothing but a skeleton and taking it upon himself to carve his name into the bone. He was always taking. Taking your mind. Your attention. Your orgasms… It wasn’t fair.

You mustered up all the strength in you to gain control.

“Peter, you can’t...” You mewled in a weak attempt.

He nipped at your shoulder, a mean bite to your flesh. 

A desperate ahhh came from your throat when his canines pressed into you, sending a thick jolt up your chest. The sudden pain created an embarrassing stimulation to your slit. You buckled you hips, your pussy begging for Peter’s lips to reattach to it.

“When did you become such a brat?” His groan vibrated against your collarbone, his voice traveling to your core. 

Humiliation spread across your face. But for all the wrong reasons. He made you feel so small. Terribly submissive. And you liked it. You attempted to squeeze your thighs together, but Peter felt your slight shift and immediately brought it to a halt, clutching at your leg.

He lowered his head in a way that his lips lightly brush against your ear. “I’ll take good care of you if you’ll let me.

The heat from his mouth made your nipples harden all the while, the butterflies in your stomach were traveling to your wet cunt. 

Once again, Peter slid your panties to the side and started tending to your clit. His fingers were electricity, your body just a host for all the pleasure Peter granted you. The tempo was slow and reeling like the fire in his eyes. He had an appetite for you. You could tell by the darkened look in his eyes and the way he licked his lips. 

“Take off your shirt,” he demanded. His fingers circled around your pussy, an agonizing repetition from rubbing over your empty hole to your swelling bud. Your index finger twitched, ready to be compliant, but the little demon in the back of your head quickly terminated the movement.

“Or what,” you said shaky, occasionally shuddering when his fingers reached your clit. You were high off of disobedience, the act of challenging him bringing you butterflies. You were desperate to see what he’ll do to you.

“Or else,” he murmured.

“That’s not a real answer,” you said further provoking him.

You could see his jaw clench, the light flicker in his eyes. Your pussy was throbbing at the sight. He blinked his eyes once, before working your shorts and panties off of you. He made up his mind. He figured out your punishment within seconds.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he deadpanned. Peter threw the clothing to the floor, leaving you in your flimsy tank. Peter stared at your cunt for a long time, licking his lips. Your instincts told you to cover your pussy, but decided against it and left your legs open for him. It was too late to be shy. And what was there to be shy about when he looked at you like something worth looking at? Wasn’t that what you wanted?

When he finally brought his eyes to your face, he bent down and kneeled at your feet. It happened so fast, yet so slow. Like your brain couldn’t register what was happening.

Your cheeks turned crimson seeing that he was close enough to smell your cunt. Preemptively, you dug your fingernails into the table and bit your lip. “Peter… What are you doing?”

He answered, but not the way that you expected him to. You gasped as he took your bud into his mouth, experimentally scraping the bundle of nerves with his teeth. “Peter!” 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He said, eyes overcome with lust. He stared you down while his lips pressed a wet kiss to your heat. He never failed to make you feel so small, even though he was the one kneeling down before you.

He hummed with satisfaction as he dipped his tongue into you, soaking your folds with his saliva.

You hoisted yourself up by your palm, watching him work with awe. He introduced two fingers into you, stretching you wider, as he used every part of his mouth to please you. You couldn’t identify Peter’s saliva and your juices separately. They mixed like red and blue turning it into an unrecognizable, purple mess that you created together.

Before you know it, the pleasure turned into something that moved you. You were rocking into him, trying to catch the gratification. His position was perfect and any second longer, you were going to see stars. His arms anchored around your hips, a thumb lazily dragging across your clit while your legs hung on his shoulders. You kept rocking, bucking your hips up and down, using his face and fingers like a toy. How could he have all the power when you were violating him like this?

“Am I doing a good job?” His raggedy voice vibrated against your skin. 

What do you think, you laughed to yourself. You were riding his face, hips shifting and pussy quivering. You were immobilized in his hands, enjoying every lick he gave you. You wished you could take a picture of the sight. Peter kneeling for you with his mouth enveloping your cunt, a thick tent in between his legs. 

“Admit it. You like how I touch you,” he pressed a kiss to your cunt, a temporary break from the unrelenting friction. He gave you begging words with a candied peck, but you knew it wasn’t free. It’s intentions were to make you submit, create a more vulnerable you so he can take you in his powerful hold and torment you. Your words were a binding contract, your statement forever on the record. You couldn’t bare to incriminate yourself.

But then his fingers were knuckles deep in you, rapidly moving in a blinding pace. In the meantime, his kisses turned you into a bite of the fist. He started to move his face left and right, his tongue putting more and more pressure on you.

You wanted to cry. Cry out in pleasure and let the tears fall from the overwhelming pressure of everything. Your true feelings for Peter were thumping at your chest and you wanted to ignore them. You wanted to tell him that he made you feel so good. That animalistic inclination to please Peter was eating at you from the inside.

“You like the way I kiss you.” He started to slow his rhythm down, the vigorous pumps of his fingers dying down and his tongue gently sweeping your clit. “The way I eat you out.”

You hummed with desire, a lazy and vague response to the cruel Peter. You were used to his cruelty, but this was a different type of cruel. Deliberate and mocking.

“I need to hear you say it,” he said, his unmoving fingers now soaking in you. Your hips grinded against them, needy to be pumped full.

“I can’t,” you managed to get out past the broken breaths.

“Must be doing a bad job, then, huh?” 

“Should stop since I’m so shit,” he said, pulling his fingers out and using them to trail along your opening. You could feel your pussy clenching, searching for something to pulsate around.

You whined desperately for him, your heart plummeting down your ribcage like a falling from a flight of stairs, each ribcage a rigged step.

He released you from his hold, your body suddenly so empty without his touch. 

“I’m sorry, did you want me to keep going?” He feigned innocence.

He was an annoying and persistent salesman at the door, ringing the bell and knocking violently, and you hide in your room with your hands over your ear. No one’s home! Go away! I don’t want to buy your terribly manufactured product!

Go away, Peter. I don’t know how to talk to you.

Admitting you wanted him was dangerous for your headspace even if it was just a sex thing. It was like once you started talking, you weren’t going to stop. A small admission of the sexual pleasure he gave you would snowball into how much you wanted him to like you. Or worse, the act of saying it out loud turned it into something that you couldn't take back. Your feelings coming to fruition. But at the moment, denying yourself of an orgasm felt worse.

“Peter, don’t,” you uttered, your voice broken up and small. This awarded you with the insertion of a finger, the slow thrust pushing a satisfied moan out of you.

“Peter, don’t what,” he rasped, his voice like sandpaper against your skin making you curl into him. You tried to catch your breath, find your voice, come to your senses. But it was hard when Peter’s eyes bore into you, patiently waiting for your answer. He put pressure on you with this already there burden in your gut.

“Don’t stop,” you blushed. “Want you to make me cum…”

“Where?” He looked at you with a newfound softness, a face that said please tell me more.

“Need to cum on your face,” you sighed with eyes hazy as you could feel Peter draw closer to you. His presence was like static, his lips emitting this energy that you can feel inches away.

His lips finally reached you again. That energy surged through you like you were an outlet and him, the plug, your collision creating glints of light. 

Peter flicked his tongue up and down eagerly, taking your confession to heart. Immediately, the familiar sensation of arousal bubbled up from your slit to your chest. The pleasure was pumping into you, building up to something that you couldn’t handle, turning you squeamish. You jolted and tried to adjust your hips, your body unconsciously fighting Peter.

He was so cruel. Holding you down like you were the canvas during an earthquake and he, the determined painter, continues to stroke till his work is complete. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he said between licks. 

You’re purple all over, the matrimonial union of red and blue occurring over and over. Your shared secretions intertwine with each other. The sweat and saliva. The glossiness of your cunt. All of it. If thoughts could transcend through bodily fluids, then Peter would already know all of your secrets. All of the things you want to tell him. All of the things you can’t say.

Peter’s tongue had found a hurried tempo that makes your hips buckle. It was getting harder and harder to hold yourself up. You put so much pressure onto your hands, trying to grip the rigid wood, the shock of each lick to your bottom half aiming no mercy to your arms.

You swear there’s a fire in your bloodstream and all you do is scream Peter’s name, him being the one who committed the arson. The flames traveled from up your legs to your face, an outpour of pleasure coursing through your body.

“I’m coming!” You cried, your grasp full of his thick hair.

“Come for me, baby,” he cooed, letting you convulse on his face. 

The arsonist in him has a smug smile watching you tremble and your pussy twitch, your whole body up in flames. You arched your back, gratification advancing through the channels in your spine.

Your chest was heavy as you attempted to balance your numb legs on his shoulders. Catching your breath was nearly impossible with your throbbing heart and the tremors rolling through your cunt. Peter’s hands held onto your hips, keeping you steady and from falling.

When you finally reeled back to your senses, you brushed Peter’s hair back to get a good look at his face. “Peter…” You purred.

“How do you want it?”

“What?”

“You don’t think we’re done, do you?”

The blood from your swollen pussy rushed up to your face, the unbearable heat blooming in your cheeks. “Peter, I really don’t thi-”

“Fine, I’ll choose for you,” he declared calmly.

Peter’s hands were faster than your declines. He pulled you off the table and turned your around so that your ass was flush with his cock. His hand nudged your weak body into the table and started to spread your legs.

Your whole body was tingling with anticipation. He has never fucked you with such dominance and it made you feel exhilarated. Your logic was fighting against him, unsure if you could take any more.

“Peter,” you croaked out. “M’ so weak.”

“I told you, I’ll take care of you, didn’t I?” The cloy tone he bared to you made your stomach turn as his hands snaked to your hips, his grip gnawing into your flesh.

He uses his cock to tap on your entrance like knocks at a door.

You dug your nails into the table again, bracing yourself for his length. You expect him to shove it in, hard and unforgiving, but instead, he nudged his leaking tip into you, swirling the head in your wetness.

And then he fucks you agonizingly slow.

He winded his cock all the way out, just to inch it back in, coating every part of your walls with his precum. Peter’s calculated thrusts rendered him balls deep into you, nearly hitting your cervix with his length.

You were enamored by the sedated cadence and the sensations of Peter. You could hear his labored breaths and feel the moisture on his palms. The occasional grunts in your ears. Somehow, it wasn’t enough.

“More,” you muttered under your breath.

A part of you hoped he didn’t hear it, and the sick and twisted part of you does. 

There was a soft chuckle coming from Peter. When his voice comes out, it sounds candy coated to you.

“You think you can take it?”

“No,” you told him. He didn’t understand you most of the time, but he understood you now. You wanted to feel the pleasure and the hurt that came with his cock. You wanted as much of Peter as you could get. You wanted it all.

The snap of his hips was like a whip made out of lightning, a thunderstorm collecting in your apartment. The electricity of his touch and the claps of his thrusts had echoed. The overstimulation had created you into a babbling mouth of nonsense.

“Gonna fuck the brat out of you,” he groaned, the words coming across like a warning.

You were someone else at that moment, pleading and begging with tears in your eyes. Please, please, please was drooling from your mouth, a recitation as if it was the only word you knew and couldn’t bare to lose it. You knew you were someone else because your hand reached out for his. You were already intertwined in his body, but it wasn’t enough. You needed to feel his grip, interlock his fingers with yours.

Before the hand of uncertainty reaches you, you place your palm over his knuckles. His thrusts were violent and your legs were already ready to give out from you. It’s for stability, not yearning, you convince yourself.

To your surprise, he pulled his hand from under yours and seized it in one fast motion, his large hands clenching onto you like you wanted.

Your heart stirred. Not from the previous orgasm and not from being railed, but from holding hands with him, the most intimate act you have experienced with him. “Peter…” You whispered.

“Say it again,” he groaned into your ear.

You repeat his name with each thrust. It was an exorcism of him, a ritual to fuck the thoughts of him right out. So you give in, desperately needing it to work. To appease the choir and rid yourself of the spirit. His name was guiding you to your catharsis.

You were entirely enraptured by his dick, your walls starting to clench again.

“Feel you getting tighter,” he pressed wet kisses against the curve of your shoulder. “Gonna come, aren’t you?”

“Maybe...” Your voice came out strained and tiny, like a butterfly with a broken wing unsteady in flight.

“Maybe?” He growled and proceeded to massage your cunt with an intensity that made you almost fall over. “Such a brat. You want me to stop?”

“No!” You cried out immediately.

“Prove it.” His thrust came to a halt and his mean voice commanded you.

You shoved his cock into you, straight to the hilt, and started to push against his cock to your wits ends. It felt like all of the oxygen in your brain had left so that it can make a new home in your core. You moved against him like each pump would grant you a small supply of oxygen.

“Fuck. Look at you making a mess on my cock,” he hissed. 

It’s like he put you in a trance. Your body was fatigued and you could barely stand without your legs shaking. Yet you did as you were told and fucked his cock.

His hands were heaven against you. His thumb trailed along your knuckles while you pushed back against him. “You’re doing so good, baby.” 

That was the second time he called you baby. The first time, you were too absorbed in your orgasm to register it. And now, you were more coherent than you were and holding his hand. Hearing baby felt taunting and mean, but you held it close to your chest anyways. 

“Just like that, baby,” he praised you with that same endearment. “You’re gonna make me cum like that.”

You could feel his cock pulsate and throb at your walls. It felt like you were set ablaze, the fire sizzling at your skin. The name-calling. The hand holding. The thick, pulsating member. The accumulation of it all had collected into your core, your orgasm blossoming at the sensation overload.

“Can you get any tighter?” He groaned. 

“Peter…” You tried to warn him, but it was lodged in your throat. 

His hand was clutching onto yours as if you threatened to take it away from him. His grip was strong, too strong. He was hurting you, but you didn’t care when it felt so good. You dug your nails into your palm as Peter coaxed your orgasm out.

You came to the summit again with sweat beading at your pores and shaky legs. Fragmented curses were drawn out from you as you reached the peak of your high.

“Fuck, I’m cumming!” You gasped, frantically moving on Peter’s cock for the sole purpose of your satisfaction. 

“Oh, baby…” he moaned. “Fucking milk me.”

You turned your head back to watch Peter, to look at him use you. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, his eyes mesmerized by your greedy pussy eating him whole. Your mouth was agape as he thrust into you, soft moans vibrating in your throat. God, he was so pretty.

When he caught you aimlessly staring, his eyebrows knit together in agony. “Don’t give me those eyes, baby.” 

“Gonna make me cum just from your pretty eyes,” he rasped.

Peter reached out to your neck, his hands covering it completely, pulling you closer to him so that your back was against his chest.

You arched your back, giving Peter a better angle to ram his cock into you. He used your clenching pussy to find his release and slammed against your walls repeatedly. You desperately bit your lip to smother the sobs that were on the precipice of forming. 

“Fuck! Gonna cum in you!” He was panting, his breath hot against your skin.

Encouraging words were spilling from your mouth like God, yes, and fucking cum in me and Peter, just like that.

Peter felt like hot wax on your body, the molten liquid trickling all over you until you were a mold of a version of yourself that you didn’t like. The candle wax sculpture of you encapsulates thoughts of only Peter. He was all-consuming, marking every part of your body as his. 

He rocked into you slowly as he pumped his spill into you. You could feel Peter’s cum fill you up, the liquid practically leaking from your hole.

When the thrusts became nothing but cock warming, a thank you escaped from your lips before you could retract it. Though it felt impossible, your cheeks reddened further from your intrusive gratitude. Thank you for making me cum, Peter. How dorky of you.

“You’re so weird,” Peter laughed with his face resting on your shoulder.

“I guess you really did fuck the brat out of me,” you huffed out.

He pressed a delicate kiss on the arch of your lower back before undoing himself from you.

After cleaning you up, Peter guided you to the couch, letting you use his chest as a pillow. 

It was a quiet afternoon that seemed to stand still like this. You didn’t expect Peter to still be here. A part of you was waiting for him to get up and leave.

While Peter had buried his face into your hair and continuously traced the outline of your body, you were drawing invincible constellations on his sinewy chest and listening to his heart attempt to regulate itself. You tried to focus on the rhythm to avoid the thoughts that were at the forefront of your mind.

You and Peter didn’t need a label, not when the sex was that amazing. Peter wasn’t complaining and you weren’t going to start. Who needed mental stability anyways? 

You could feel a certain type of drowsiness slowly sinking into your body with your eyelids becoming heavy. You let out a sluggish yawn.

“Tired?”

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“Can I be honest with you before you go to sleep?”

You shook your head in approval, too worn out to use your words.

“Sometimes, I feel like I’m addicted to you,” Peter said quitely.

There was an immediate reanimation of your heart, the words shocking it awake like Frankenstein’s monster.

You craned your neck back to look at him, trying to see if he was playing a prank on you. If he was sleep talking.

He looked almost disappointed with his head back and his lips slack in disinterest. You watched as he kept his eyes closed and adam's apple dramatically bob as if he took a big gulp. Somehow, despite the visible discomfort and forlornness, his words were euphonious. You could already feel your future self berate you. Stupid girl.

A hum of acknowledgment floated in the air. Your thoughts were in an indecipherable frenzy while in conjunction, any response you had was trapped in your throat. You were short-circuiting. Failing to comprehend anything at all.

It was throwing vodka back. A burn from your throat, slowly trickling down to the pit of your stomach. The liquid courage coursing through you. Your body overflowing with heat and comfort. But somewhere in your brain were saying this was a bad idea.

It felt good to be with Peter, but that didn’t mean that it was good to be with him.

And yet you were replaying his words over and over again.

I’m addicted to you.

You were going to desperately hang onto that, a reminder for any future regret. It made regret feel like a smaller, less important feeling to Peter Parker’s personal addiction. Even if he never made it feel that way.

Peter’s confession was branded on you, tattooed and etched all over your eyelids, and you had no words to brand onto him.

You didn’t fight the heavy lids and the lead in your blood. You let sleep take you before you could tell him that you had it worse than him.

a/n: please forgive me, children. a lot of internal conflict for y/n in this one since petey baby is just so difficult. i was trying so hard to push this out that halfway through i started to listen to mario kart music.

this was so agonizing to write for the longest time and then it wasn’t! after two months, i finally found a rhythm and wrote away… please enjoy and let me know your thoughts! it’s the flame to a candle for me (the support and motivation the flame and me the candle… lolz) fire it up boizzz xoxo 

reblog to be put on the taglist

@http.teddy00 @mojesticworlds​ @blackbirdds

[parkerpeter24]

bloody love . part 3

pairing ➳ peter parker x reader

warnings ➳ hanahaki!au, unrequited love, slightly happy ending, mentions of blood, read at your own discretion.

w.c. ➳ 2.4k

summary ➳ who said love couldn’t kill?

i mean who saw this coming. but i hope you enjoy because writing hanahaki!au has been my oldest wish and here we are 🥰

part 1 | part 2 | part 4

you were there everyday.

peter saw you every day, sitting on your fire escape, your face in the palms of your hands, looking up at the starts. even though you could barely see any with the amount of pollution in the city during winters.

two months had passed since peter talked to you. really talked to you. he saw you every day in the hallways of the hell everyone called school and every night on your fire escape.

you were so close to him, yet so far as he watched you, sure to stay out of your line of sight. the superhero assured himself that it wasn’t stalking if he was on his patrol and happened to stop by a building that happened to be near your apartment building.

peter remembered the day he landed on the same place your elbows rested now, and looked for you in the dark room and he wished, every night, that he could undo whatever it was that led to this situation. or maybe he’d convince you to talk to him about your feelings as soon as he found out about the disease. or he could express his own feeling which he’d kept dismissing as a ‘silly schoolboy crush’ everytime.

he would just about do anything to get you back.

but he couldn’t think of a way. not for the past two months. not since the day you walked out on him. and as he watched you recede to your room at 09:45, just the same time as every day, he thought maybe he deserved this after all and a feeling of familiar pain took over the brunette’s lungs as he took off.

it was a good thing that ned was talking to him. because gwen wasn’t. he didn’t really expect her to after he’d ghosted her for about as long as he’d known you had feelings for him.

but ned was there. he kept trying to stay in touch even after five weeks of his friend ignoring him like the plague. peter was just grieving and forever grateful that ned understood that.

“the empire strikes back? or return of the jedi? i’m in a star wars mood today.” ned stated as he picked up the two tapes in each of his hands. saturday night was a movie night. ned had invited peter and another girl from his art class, michelle, over. peter didn’t really know her well and she didn’t seem too interested in conversation.

“when are you not in a star wars mood?” mj rolled her eyes, however a little smile played over her lips, as she skimmed through the pages of her book.

“maybe you should decide then.” ned suggested.

“fractured.” mj said within a second, shrugging her shoulders, “it’s a good one. quite underrated.”

ned seemed to think for a moment before he looked at peter, “what do you say, man?”

“i don’t mind.” peter said, giving his friend a pursed smile.

ned nodded and started the movie. as the opening credits rolled in, mj looked at ned and mouthed, “what’s his deal?”

“it’s complicated.” ned mouthed back.

peter rolled his eyes, hearing the two of them whisper around behind his back. however, he couldn’t fight what ned had said. it was complicated. and he didn’t want it to be.

and so peter decided that it was enough.

that night, on his daily patrol, he stopped by the same old building facing your apartment but this time instead of waiting for you to walk out of your window, he swung over and before he knew his fist was against your window, knocking at the glass gently until he saw a figure behind the curtains.

your figure.

you pulled the curtains apart, revealing your face and for a moment peter felt all air knocked out of his lungs. he hasn’t seen you this close since… *that* day.

“peter?” hearing your voice pulled him out of the trance he’d suddenly entered, “um, what are you doing here?”

peter remained silent as the mechanical eyes on his suit grew wider by a fraction. he had decided that he needed to fix this mess. but how; he didn’t bother to think about that. peter didn’t usually feel this nervous when he was covered top to bottom in his spandex suit but now he could feel his ragged breath against his mask.

“okay…” you stood there awkwardly, knowing peter was struggling to say something. you didn’t know why he was here but you weren’t gonna help him right now, “i don’t know what to say if you’re not gonna talk.” you gave him a pursed smile.

“i- uh. i-i want to talk.” peter laid out.

“oh, about what?”

“how’s school?” peter asked as if the past two months didn’t exist at all.

“it’s fine…” you trailed off, “boring.”

“right. i-i didn’t see you in ages.”

“i’m right here.” you nodded at him.

“nice.” peter was trying to stall the conversation but he’d run out of things to say, “listen, can we talk about…” he racked his brain to find something. *anything*

“about?”

“about you? i miss you.” peter sighed, watching your eyebrows furrow at his claim. did you not want him to miss me? did he just make a mess of the earlier mess that he was trying to solve?

he watched your fingers grip the curtains tighter, just about ready to shut it on his face, “pete, i think you should-”

“n-no, no, no. no. please. i didn’t mean that!” peter said, instantly realizing how it might have sounded, “wait, i do mean that. um, do you want me to? mean that?”

you found his nervousness adorable. it was probably easy for peter to think that it meant nothing to you but he didn’t know how easy it would be for him to crawl right back into your heart.

and that’s why you needed to stop this.

“don’t come to my balcony.” peter’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach hearing you say those words next. you weren’t even meeting his eyes as you added, “please.”

may could tell her nephew was going through a hard time. she saw him sulk around the apartment every weekend and this time around wasn’t any different. she watched him swirl around the last bits of his cereal, deep in thought, “got any plans for the weekend?”

“not really.” her nephew replied.

“what about gwen, maybe you can invite her over for dinner!” may smiled, hoping to lighten the mood.

“that was months ago.” peter stated simply, “i don’t think she’d be interested.”

“then how about we go out for dinner?”

“i appreciate you doing this for me, may, i really do but i-” he sighed, not knowing how to refuse the offer, “i’m sorry, i can’t.”

may hated to see her nephew like this. she’d always tried for him to be comfortable around her. enough to share something that was bothering him this much “just tell me what’s wrong, son.”

“well, i-it’s a long story.”

she gave him an assuring smile, “i’ve got nowhere to be.”

so he told her. he told her everything from the day he found you in your room, to the day you ran away to hide in the bathroom, to the day you left him ‘for the better’.

he just left out the detail where he was going through the same problem now.

however, he did feel lighter after sharing everything with his aunt. she tried to help by suggesting him ideas to sort the situation out between the two of you. the situation was a little too complicated. peter hated that word

the next day, as you were pulling out your physics book from your locker, you saw him approaching you again, “hey.” peter said, waving at you.

you raised your eyebrows at him, “hi?”

“walk to class with me?” he asked, hoping you’d say yes. the two of you shared ap physics so what could be the loss in walking together.

you nodded and started walking so suddenly that peter had to take a quick run to catch up to you, “look, i know we left some things unfigured and-”

“i don’t think this is the right time to talk about that.” you stated, looking straight ahead of you.

“okay. then tell me when will be the right time?” he persisted.

you sighed, finally looking at him, “peter, i told you to-”

“you told me to not come to your balcony. i’m not on your balcony.” your eyes met for a second and peter held them with so much intensity you had to look away.

you hesitated for a moment, “the fire escape. same time as yesterday.”

peter blinked, not believing you were actually ready to talk to him, “are you sure?”

“do not push it.” you shook your head at him and he knew better. so he stood there, watching you leave for a class you two shared.

he hoped tonight would make things better between the two of you.

it had become a habit for peter to land on the building in front of yours instead of directly swinging to your fire escape. he made a mental note to stop doing that.

he knocked at your window, second night in a row. you were pulling apart the curtains again and this time, you got out to the fire escape. peter jumped down from the railing and beside you.

“so?” you initiated, “what is it that you wanna talk about?”

“about you. how have you been?”

“better.” you stated, giving him a little smile, “you?”

“i’m okay.”

“for the record, i missed you too.”

“o-oh.” peter felt his cheeks warm against the material of his mask. the air was gradually turning chilly. the city was on the brink of december but it was somehow still warm. or maybe that was just peter because the next moment he found you shivering as a gust of wind passed by, rubbing your hands together, “you okay?”

you nodded, “a little cold.”

you watched as he shifted a little closer to you, your faces inches apart. you could see all the intricate designs that held his suit together, resisting yourself to reach up and trace along the web-like design, “i-it’s got an in-built heater.”

the two of you stayed in silence, you staring up at the sky like you did every day and peter couldn’t resist but say because he finally had the chance to, “you can’t even see anything up there.”

“you can actually! you just need to focus more.” you turned to face him, catching him already looking at you. you averted your gaze back to the stars quickly.

“look, there’s ursa major.” he pointed out.

“yeah! cool, right?”

“it’s actually pretty hot.” peter said, realizing you didn’t get his joke when you gave him a confused look, “well, because it’s a star and stars are… hot.” he chuckled awkwardly.

“that was a terrible joke.” you deadpanned before letting out a laugh.

“come on, you know you liked it.” peter grinned.

“absolutely not!” you laughed, further proving his point, “however it did remind me, do you want some hot chocolate?”

the two of you made your way inside through the window. peter pulled off his mask finally and you took in his appearance. his cheeks were slightly red, probably due to the cold, hair ruffled as he shook his head to let a few strands out of his face. he’d really let his hair grow out. you avoided eye contact once he caught you staring, “i’ll go get it.”

peter looked around the room. you had done some redecorating. a few of your pictures with him were missing– in fact only one picture of you two together remained on your wall and it wasn’t even the two of you it was a group photo from back when your class went on a field trip– which was a little unsettling to peter but right now, talking to you was a big enough step so he pushed all the other worries to the back of his head.

the sound of two voices arguing pulled peter out of his thoughts. the voices belonged to you and your mother, he figured, and found you two talking about him?

he heard your mom’s voice loud and clear, “then why the two mugs?”

“because i was craving two hot chocolates.” you reasoned.

“y/n. come on! the past month has been so much progress. there were no flowers, not even once!”

before peter could register whatever was happening, you rushed inside the room, slamming the door with the help of your foot as you placed the aforementioned mugs on your study table.

“you need to hide in the closet.” you hurried, pushing peter a bit towards the closet door.

“what? y/n, i’m not in the closet anymore, you know i’m bi-”

“this is not the time to make jokes, please! just hide!” you whisper yelled.

peter placed his palms on either side of your face, sensing your heart palpitating. he caressed your cheeks, way too calm as your mom knocked at your door, “hey, hey, calm down.” he took a deep breath, compelling you to do the same, “i’ll leave now, don’t worry. see you tomorrow.”

he gave you a smile, quickly making his way over to your window and stepped outside before closing the curtains just the way you kept it, while you opened the door to your room, letting your very frustrated mom inside, “where is he?”

“where is what?” you tried to act casually, “i told you i just can’t have enough of hot chocolate.”

“y/n y/l/n. where is he?” she demanded yet again.

you sighed in defeat, finding a sudden interest in the wooden floor, “he left.”

it was her turn to let out a sigh. you could tell she was disappointed because any time she wanted to express that, she addressed you by your whole name, “miss y/n y/l/n, do you know why i’d let you opt out of surgery?”

“because i wanted to?” you offered, giving her a meek smile.

“no. because you were starting to get better. you were maintaining your distance from him and you were healing.” your mother said.

if peter was anything akin to confused before, he was perplexed now. unbeknownst to the two of you, he’d listened to everything that was going on inside. the dots were connecting themselves but peter seemed to be refusing the possibility that it was all true.

you never got a surgery?

peter felt something in his chest but this feeling was different than what he’d experienced for the past two months. he felt an unprecedented warmth spread throughout his lungs.

like hope. like everything would eventually be okay.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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