⋆𐙚₊˚ H Y E ⊹♡

𝟐𝟎 .✦ ݁˖ 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒑 𑣲𝄞 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘺, 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 ⋆˚꩜｡

[hyeeeeelaps]

¡! 𝑺𝑨𝑳𝑽𝑬𝑻𝑬 . . .

⤷ ゛𝑯 𝒀 𝑬 ˎˊ˗ my heart, a quiet sea, longs only for your moon to light its endless tides.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ M. LIST REQUESTS ARE OPEN RULES

nihil mihi refert quid rectum an pravum censeas; faciam quodcumque statuero. scribam quodcumque voluero. legebo quodcumque voluero. nam sola sententia quae mihi re vera valet mea est.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

[liliesonthego]

Peter Parker / I'm here for you ── 18+ (MDNI)

Summary ⟅ When it comes time for you to finally admit your feelings for Peter, you meet a version of him you've never seen before.

Requested: yes

Peter Parker x Reader /  ⟣ SMUT / 3.6k ⟢

Warnings: BND peter, no spoilers that aren't in the trailer, light angst if you squint, virgin!peter (is this canon...?), peter is SENSITIVE, some yearning, grinding, dry humping (everyone cheered), dirty talk, peter is losing control, p in v, dacryphilia, nipple sucking, peter cums A LOT, creampie, slight praise, he whines and whimpers a bunch, he overstimulates himself, kinda sub space, I think that's it?

Lily's note — 🪷 well this is clearly not my niche but i got that request and needy peter? you don't have to ask me twice. IF YOU ENJOY PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT LETTING ME KNOW :D

It had taken you a while to break through to Peter. But ever since you bumped into him that first day of moving into your new apartment, there was something about his eyes—something that eerily reflected the pain you'd felt through the past years—that made you want to know him.

He was extremely hesitant at first, understandably so given what you knew now about the whole spiderman and everyone forgetting him thing, but after getting to know you and hearing about the barrage of troubles the universe had thrusted your way, he figured if there was anyone he could trust, it was you.

A year later, not much had changed in your lives. You were still two struggling adults in your twenties just trying to get by on the day-to-day, except now, at least you had each other to cope. At least you were able to find some reprieve and light, though the pain from your lives remained a low hum in the background. 

You weren't exactly sure when it began happening—maybe a few months in—but you noticed it randomly one day. Your heart started beating faster around him. Then, he began taking up extra space in your mind until eventually, the thoughts became too loud to ignore.

You chalked the feelings up to all the trauma bonding and hours you’d spent together trying to shut out and disappear from the real world. You tried to ignore the rush of joy you felt when he laughed, or the dizziness of your head whenever you caught a glimpse of him changing out of his suit, until you were drowning in a pool of affection that you weren't sure you could surface from. 

There’d been a few times the confession almost slipped from your tongue. The intimate nights sitting out on the fire escape with food and the sound of the city in the distance, or the times where he sat a little too close to you on the couch during movie nights.

But then he’d sigh, his gaze going foggy as he zoned out on some far off point, murmuring, “MJ would have hated this movie,” or “Ned used to love this burger place.”

And just like that the words would die on your tongue. How could you ever compete with the monument of love he carried for his past relationships? No, it was easier to suppress the feelings and toss them atop the mountain of other struggles you carried. You’d learn to manage with the extra weight simple because the alternative—a life absent of his presence—wasn’t something you could fathom.

Then things started changing.

First, he was suddenly busy on your sacred days off, days you would always spend together exploring new restaurants and coffee shops around the city. Then, he started turning you away on his patrol nights, nights where you’d kept him company and even helped patch up the nastier cuts he couldn't reach. Excuse after excuse came and the fear that he’d figured out your feelings twisted your gut with nerves.

It didn't take long for you to come to the conclusion that he was building a wall to preserve the sanctity of his memory with MJ. There could be no other reason for the sudden distance. You tried convincing yourself it was for the best. The perfect solution to help you cope with losing him, because if it wasn’t now, it would be later.

You lasted exactly three days. Three days of radio silence was what it took for you to realize that no, you couldn’t do this. You couldn’t stay away from him. Maybe it was the return to a forgotten loneliness, a deep, screaming void, that had you knocking on his door frantically that night, your fist nearly pounding through the paint-chipped wood.

The door cracked open an inch and before he could get the opportunity to reject you, you pushed your way through, bursting into his apartment with a temper he’d never seen.

“Hey, stranger,” you said with a hint of venom in your voice. You turned to face him, your eyes widening slightly at the sight of his pale, flushed skin, a fine sheen of sweat settled on his temples. His eyes looked unusually dark; you blinked your own a few times to clear them and make sure you weren’t seeing something that wasn’t there. 

He said your name through the rasp of his shaky voice. “I-I’m sorry, I’m busy right now… you should go.”

“Like hell I should,” you scoffed, any anxious thoughts replaced by an unwavering surge of protectiveness. “Is this why you’ve been ghosting me? Are you sick or something?”

His face suddenly scrunched up, his hand raising to hold his head as he whimpered in pain. “I’m n-not ghosting you… I just…”

You took a step closer to him, freezing when he flinched back and held out a hand to stop you. Your heart fell to your stomach as you watched his eyes darken further. “Pete, I don’t know what’s going on but, please, let me help you… Stop pushing me away.” 

You attempted another careful step forward until he pushed himself back against the wall.

“S-stop, stop! Please just… don’t come closer.”

You swallowed down the thick lump in your throat that had risen, clenching your hands into fists to stop them from shaking. You waited patiently for him to speak, scared that the next words that left him were going to be the ones to shatter your world.

“I,” he paused, breathing in a deep breath before continuing. “I can’t… trust myself to be around you right now.”

Your brows pressed together in confusion. “Why not?”

His eyes bore into the ground as he tried to gather his thoughts over the multitude of senses that surged the moment you approached his door, but everything was fuzzy and melted together until all he could feel was you. Your presence, and it was driving him crazy.

“My systems are detecting an abnormally high heart rate, Peter,” Evie’s robotic voice rang out. “System overload is approaching.”

“Not now, Evie,” Peter choked out.

You shook your head in disbelief. “You can trust me, Peter. Please. Haven’t I proven that to you? After everything?”

“I-It’s not that—”

“Then what?” You approached him despite his protests, not stopping until you were a step away from touching.

His brain nearly short-circuited, any lasting restraint vanishing as he allowed you to fully flood his senses. The shampoo you used this morning, the perfume you’d applied a few hours ago, the fast thump thump of your heart, a beautiful rhythm that drowned out all rational thought to disarm him completely.

“Something is happening to me,” he gasped, the words tearing from his chest. “My arachnid DNA is… it’s evolving. Mutating. Everything is turned up to ten thousand a-and my impulses—” he cut himself off, slamming his head back against the door hard enough to make it rattle on its hinges. 

You shook your head, your hands reaching for him again. “If you’re scared you’ll hurt me, you won’t—”

“No!” he spat out desperately. “It’s not that I—I c-can’t—” He was practically shaking now, violent tremors racking his body.

Your heart ached as you watched him. Unable to control yourself, you lifted your hands to cup his flushed cheeks, his skin burning under your palms. “Peter,” you whispered softly, your voice reaching him over the storm raging within.

He stared at you, his pupils dilated so wide, only a thin ring of the soft brown you loved so much was present. Your lips parted with a pant at the hunger displayed in them as you got lost in their depths, a raw need you’d never seen before. “Woah…”

A low, tormented whimper escaped him when your thumbs rubbed along his skin, the sound shooting straight to pool low in your stomach, spreading a heat you scolded yourself for internally. Now was not the time.

“I can’t think straight when you’re near,” he confessed through a strained voice. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I can’t act normal. I can’t pretend like I usually do… not when all I want to do is—”

He groaned, tipping his head back against the door, a final sliver of restrain returning before he crossed the line.

“What, Peter?” you pressed, leaning closer to eliminate the last inch of space between your bodies, your chests brushing. You looked at him with such care, your gaze so gentle and understanding and comforting. “What do you want to do?”

In the split second before he moved you were able to catch the black swallowing the last fragment of brown, followed quickly by the entirety of the whites of his eyes. Then his lips were on yours.

It was all consuming as his mouth moved over yours, desperately kissing as if you were the very air that filled his lungs and it was being threatened away from him.

His hands dug into your sides, fisting your skin to pull you flush against his body until you could feel the taught muscle hidden beneath his shirt. You gasped into his mouth when he lifted you to wrap your legs around his waist, moaning when he took the opportunity to slide his tongue along yours.

He fell back onto the couch behind him, keeping you close as he continued to devour your lips, whimpering when your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging to pull him back so you could take a breath.

He fought against your grip, his eyes opening to lock onto yours when you pulled harder. Your chest heaved as you stared into the black pools with awe.

“I-I’m sorry,” he managed to say through clenched teeth, barely suppressing the desire to ravage you whole. “I tried to hide my feelings but it's harder like this.”

The smile that graced your lips had his head spinning all over again, his eyes burning as they turned glassy.

“Feelings?” you mumbled, leaning down to ghost your lips over his, the heat in your belly spreading further when he tried to chase them. You curve into him just enough to feel something poking you as he let out another strangled gasp. “You like me, Peter?”

A tear slips down his cheek when you say his name, the sound falling so beautifully from your lips, making his cock pulse harder in his sweatpants. The grip he has on you tightens, subconsciously pressing you down over his throbbing boner.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats with a shake of his head. “I don’t want to ruin what we have, I just… can’t lose you, too.”

Your heart clenches when his voice cracks with agony. You want to scream at him and the world the depths of your feelings for him, how he could never lose you and how the same fear had been tormenting you for weeks. But words felt small, too insufficient. So you showed him by capturing his lips with yours once more.

He met them with relief, his arms wrapping fully around your torso to cage you against him in an attempt to get as close to fusing your bodies together as possible. You arched into him, fully dragging your core against his cock, the friction a sweet torture that had his mouth falling open in a broken moan. 

“Please,” he gasped against your cheek.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, your lips latching onto the sensitive skin as you rocked your hips faster. You could feel every inch of his cock pressing against your heat, your aching clit pulsating in your soaked panties. His grip on you turned bruising, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he guided your movements to match how much he needed you.

“So g-good… you feel so—mngh—” he whined.

Just then a sharp blaring came from the other side of the room, a sound you recognized as his police scanner. You stilled your movements and removed your head from his neck. Before you could say anything, Peter’s arm flung out. A web whipped through the air and a second later it connected with the phone, striking it hard enough for a loud crack to sound out, silencing the alarm.

His black eyes shot back to find your surprised ones. He’d never, ever, ignored the call. But tonight he didn’t care. Tonight, all he wanted was you.

You could practically see the possession in his eyes as he stood up, holding you against him. Seconds later, your back met the soft mattress of his bed as he laid you down, quickly pressing himself back between your legs, his mouth finding your neck, kissing and nipping a trail of fire. Your mind, however, was still trying to comprehend what you’d just seen.

He intertwined his fingers with yours, pinning your hands beside your head, his hips rutting shamelessly into you with a pressure that stole your breath. You turned to stare at his wrist, bare of the bulky web shooters.

“Peter,” you panted, arching into his thrust. “How did you… the web?”

His lips trailed up your cheek, messily kissing over your lips with a desperate fervor. 

“Arachnid DNA,” is all he mumbled.

“O-Oh.. cool,” you managed to say before he swallowed the word with his tongue.

He parted to sit back on his heels, pulling his shirt over his head to reveal his sweat slicked torso. Your mouth went dry when he pulled down his sweats and underwear in one go, kicking them off the rest of the way.

Your gaze dropped, a heady moan slipping at the sight of his thick cock flushed a deep red as it pulsed against his stomach, streams of precum dripping down the sides.

He climbed back over you, pressing his cock into your clothed heat to resume his rutting, panting little sounds of pleasure into your ear.

“Mnmh—ah! I can—fuck… I can feel how warm you are, can smell you." His hands slipped beneath your shirt, running up until they grazed the soft skin of your breasts.

Something new in him snapped when he realized you weren't wearing a bra. He started snapping his hips harder into you until your body was climbing up the bed. “I’m sorry—oh god… fuck, I’m so sorry—I can't stop—”

“It’s okay, Peter.”

“No,” he pleaded, his lips brushing your throat. “I can’t hold back anymore. Fuck—I need you to tell me—”

“I’m here for you, Peter,” you whispered, cupping his face to force his dazed eyes back to yours. His lids were blotchy with tears, his lips red and kiss-swollen. You could see the struggle in them, the fight against his depraved thoughts to make sure you were okay with this. It only made you want him more. “Use me.”

Any remaining tension in his face melted. His brows relaxed, the cute crinkles by his eyes smoothing over at your permission.

He shoved your shirt over your head, moaning at the sight of your chest, your nipples peaked and begging for his touch. He captured one in his mouth, laving it with his tongue before sucking hard. His other hand rolled the other between his fingers, flicking and pinching the sensitive bud, drawing out high pitched cries from your lips.

“Mmm, so pretty, taste so sweet.”

His free hand fumbled with your pants in an attempt to push them down, a frustrated, almost animalistic groan escaping him when they caught on your hips. He gave a small tug and tore the fabric away from your body, discarding it without a second thought.

“Hey!” you yelped, the protest dying when he pressed the hot head of his cock through your sodden folds, rubbing it through the slick mess. 

The slick sounds of your wet heat were enough to make his consciousness slip as he failed to suppress a sob.

He could hear every microscopic hitch of your breath in his heightened ears, every pulse at your clit against his shaft a divine torment, the rush of your blood beneath your skin. You watched, enamored, as his eyes fluttered weakly when his tip caught at your hole, and then he was pushing in.

“O-Oh fuu—” his eyes fluttered as your tight cunt clenched around the invasion.

“I’m sorry, so sorry—so tight, fuck, ‘M sorry—” he apologized in a continuous stream as he sank in, forcing himself deeper until he was fully bottomed out. Tears slipped from his eyes, cascading down his flushed cheeks, your walls clamping down to draw out more small cries from him, basking in the sight.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the stretch. It had been a while for you and Peter was so thick. You could feel every vein, every ridge of his cock dragging against your velvety walls as his hips met yours.

Before you could fully adjust and let the sting subside, he was pulling out and driving back into you with a punctured breath, stealing the air from your lungs. You dug your nails into the muscles of his back, biting your lip to suppress a yelp as he set a brutal pace, each thrust burying him just as deep.

The head of his cock kissed your cervix with an overwhelming, euphoric pressure. 

“Cunt feels so fucking good, squeezing me so tight.”

The pain began to fade, replaced by a pleasure so sharp it bordered on agony. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, locking your ankles, pushing him deeper inside you. “'M so full, Peter.”

He collapsed onto you, his lips leaving wet, sloppy kisses wherever he could reach as he fucked you mercilessly, his cock pistoning in and out of you.

The pressure in your belly snuck up on you, building and coiling tight like a live wire trapped beneath your skin.

“P-Peter—!” you cried out, your cunt fluttering around his cock. You bowed off the bed, your back arching as he fucked the orgasm out of you, wave after wave of white-hot ecstasy flowing through your nerves.

The foreign scent of your cum invaded his senses, something he could only describe as overwhelmingly you and all-consuming, causing his eyes to screw shut with a sob.

The violent constrictions of your walls around his cock only edged him on further. He fucked you through your climax with ragged, desperate bucks, his movements dissolving into a frenzy, the filthy sounds of wet skin slapping together filling the room.

You latched onto his wrists beside your head, feeling an intense heat radiating from the hypersensitive skin over his organic webbing. Before you were even aware of your actions, your head was turning, your lips pressing a soft kiss to his wrist.

Words were beyond him as your touch reduced him to incoherent, whimpering babbles. “Feels… s’good—mphm. C-Can’t… ‘M yours… all yours—”

His thrusts turned erratic, his gut tightening as he rested his forehead on your chest, nuzzling into your skin in an attempt to sink into you, to become one.

"It h- it hurts—can't stop... 'M sorry—"

You could feel his cock swelling inside you, his thrust faltering to shallow, uncoordinated thrusts. A sob wretched from him, wanton and broken, hot tears spilling from his clenched eyes, dripping onto your skin.

"Come for me, Peter."

He sank all the way in one last time, burying himself as deep as he could go as his body tensed.

Then his mind blanked.

His vision went black, speckled with stars. With a guttural cry, he came, his release a torrent, spilling deep into your cunt in thick, hot pulsing waves. He whined into your chest, his body spasming through each powerful jet.

You panted through each hard twitch of his cock, overwhelmed with the sheer volume of cum as he continued to fill you, the sensation so intense you struggled to catch your breath. It just kept going as he shook above you, his cum leaking out around the base of his cock still stuffed deep inside you.

He stayed there as your cunt milked every drop, creating a home for himself, content with living inside you for as long as you'd let him.

You carded a hand through his hair as tremors continued to wrack his oversensitive body. “Shh, you’re okay,” you whispered into his ear, your voice hoarse. “You did so good.”

He went boneless above you, a dead, spent weight. Eventually, his softened cock slipped from your used cunt, followed by a stream of his release dripping down to soak the sheets as you whimpered through it all.

A few moments later, the silence in the room was broken by Evie’s voice. “Heart rate regulated. Vitals have returned to baseline levels.”

It seemed to bring Peter back to earth. He lifted his head from your chest with a groggy moan, blinking blearily down at you. His eyes were back to their normal, warm brown, the black reduced to his pupils, though still glazed with wonder.

You guided him to his back, leaning over to wipe the tears from his cheek before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

He sniffled, fresh tears welling in his bloodshot eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “I didn’t… I didn’t want it to happen like that. I wanted to be… better for you.”

You shushed him gently, kissing his cheek. “We’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” he insisted, the vulnerability clear in his tone. “I am.”

You shook your head, a small smile playing at your lips. “Then never ignore me like that again.”

He sniffled with a nod, his lips squirking up into that boyish smile that made your heart ache. “Okay.”

“Do you feel better?” you asked, your hands smoothing down his chest.

He nodded, a dark blush spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. “I didn’t know I could feel that good,” he admitted with awe. 

“Has it been a while for you, too?”

He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking away for a second before meeting yours again anxiously. ‘I’ve never, um…” he took a shaky, deep breath. “That was my uh, first time.”

Your hands froze on his chest. “What?”

He winced. “I told you I couldn’t control myself.”

You laughed at the surprising confession, leaning down to brush your nose against his. “Well, at least it was memorable.”

He smiled, all shy and genuine and so Peter-like, you couldn’t resist kissing him, tender and slow. Your hand continued rubbing, your thumb brushing over a nipple, circling it to a peak when he whimpered, his whole body jolting back away at your touch.

“Tsk, so sensitive.” Your hand trailed lower, grazing over the dips of muscle to rest just above where his cock was stirring back to life. “So how easy is it for that side of you to come out?”

His breath caught as your finger dug into the sensitive skin of his lower stomach. When you flicked your eyes back up to his, you saw it again.

The inky blackness had started to expand, swallowing the warm brown, once again drawn out by you. 

Comment or message to be added to the taglist <3

@mrsdotkennedyyyyy @kyoluvrs @sixeyesonesoul @yeahyeah2003 @chanfaye @marmar-c @nacihe @poetandhespenniless @doodle-with-rhy @klwg @jizzyjessy @idkwhatimdoing27 @0-n-1-x @moonlightbookworm @tisfortrauma @laepearl @ynstark @abislayzz @aleishia @melxdiq-luv @mp3jazzy @karglass260708 @cutefluffybigunicorns @whatever-comes-to-me @unabashedprunenerdauthor @orionfromabove @mofongomuncher @yveryross @3ello @koalalafications @mismwaa @yinyinlovesjw @dukipukin @syaholic @dianaisty @vii-725 @sh0wthyself

[iheartwhre]

the mask stays on

bnd spiderman!reader , smut, pool sex, oral, f!m, no spoilers

➺ authors note: i loveee the new movie sm. plan to write more about bnd spiderman - peter parker :3 taking feedback and some requests

You finally took the day off of work and one of your friends—bless her chaotic little heart—had practically shoved a recommendation at you for a private Russian banya spa and pool.

Trust me

Private room. No one else. You’ll come out a new person!

The text message read.

So here you are. The air is slightly humid with the scent of birch and mineral water, the private pool room dimly lit by warm amber lights that bounce off the tiled walls and the still surface of the water. You’d already done the sauna part, skin flushed and loose. The changing area sat just behind a set of heavy wooden doors. You’d decided, with the kind of reckless confidence that only comes from being completely alone, that skinny dipping was the only correct move. Right?

You tied up your hair so it wouldn’t get wet, slipping into the water naked, the temperature perfect and warm enough to sink in but cool enough to keep you awake. You swam lazy circles, head held carefully above the surface, the water lapping at your shoulders and collarbones.

Then the door opened.

You froze mid stroke, heart jumping. Instinct taking over. You backed up against the pool wall, facing the changing rooms and sank until the water was midchest, arms loosely crossed just below the surface to keep yourself covered. Steam curled up around you.

A man stepped in from the left entrance, holding a towel, wearing… a full red and blue spandex suit. Head to toe. He looked around the room like this was his first time as well, shoulders tight, posture that of someone who hadn’t unclenched in a really long time.

He turned toward the pool and startled when he saw you.

“Oh! Hey! You’re not—” He spun in a full 360, scanning the empty room. “—uh—”

You cut him off, lips pursing in a thoughtful pout. “Why are you wearing a onesie to the pool?”

He stopped spinning. “Well, uh—this isn’t a onesie. It’s a suit.”

“Mm. Well, the changing room is behind you.”

“Oh no, I—” An awkward little chuckle escaped him. “I’m looking for Black Widow? She sent me here.”

You hummed, curiosity tilting your head. “Well, she’s not gonna be here for a while. Anyway, this is a pool, not a costume contest—which you’re losing, by the way.” You let a small tease slide into your voice. “I suggest you take that…suit…off and wait for her.”

He didn’t argue. Just stood there for a second, lenses fixed on you with some slight confusion, then gave a tiny, defeated nod and turned to walk in the changing room.

A few minutes later the door opened again.

He came out with the towel wrapped tightly around his waist, one hand holding it closed.

You couldn’t help it. A giggle slipped out.

“Seriously?”

The mask was still on.

He made a small, helpless gesture with his free hand. “Yeah, it’ll kind of defeat the whole anonymous thing, you know?”

“Sure.. Whatever” You hummed and nodded, swimming in a slow circle so the water stayed at chest level. Your eyes did a quick, involuntary look over as he stepped carefully inside the pool, unwrapping the towel and setting it aside on the edge, revealing black boxer briefs that clung just tightly enough. You noticed his broad shoulders, defined chest, and a scatter of bruises and scrapes that looked fresh and older layered together.

He settled in, water up to his midchest, keeping a polite distance.

“So what’s your name?” you asked.

“l—uh! Spider-Man!” He thrust a hand out of the water toward you, some of it splashing on you.

You flinched a little from the water landing on you but you took his hand and shook once.

“Spider-Man… kind of a silly name since you look nothing like a spider.”

He chuckled, the sound low, and glanced down at the water. “So uh—how do you know Black Widow?”

You played with the surface of the water between your fingers, watching the little ripples. “Oh, I don’t. I just said that to bullshit you.”

A soft laugh escaped you. You covered your mouth, still giggling. Across from you, he groaned. The white lenses of the mask narrowed slightly.

“Not cool, man…”

You shook your head, still smiling. “No, no! It’s not. But you seemed so tired and tensed when you walked in. You need to relax, dude.”

He looked at you. The set of his shoulders was still wound tight.

“I do want to say your costume is cool though,” you added, softer. “Especially your mask.”

You swam closer, closing the space between you until you were right in front of him. Carefully, you lifted both hands from the water and rested them along the sides of his jaw, just over the fabric. You turned his head gently to one side, studying the way the lenses shifted with the movement.

“I love the attention to detail on how your goggle things close and open up by your expression. Cute detail.”

You felt his quick pulse near your fingertips where the mask met his neck. You dropped your gaze to the bruises along his shoulders and pulled back so you weren’t crowding him.

“Why are you so bruised up?”

“Do you normally ask strangers so many questions?” He touched the opposite shoulder with one hand, fingers brushing over a the marks.

“Just the strange handsome ones…”

His head snapped up. You could hear the soft smile in his voice, surprised and a little disbelieving. “You think I’m handsome?”

You inched closer again. Your fingers found the edge of the mask at his neck, resting there lightly. “I don’t need to see your face to know that you are…”

You lifted the bottom of the mask just enough to free his mouth. Your hand cupped the side of his face through the fabric as you leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

The lenses widened. Then, slowly, they relaxed.

His hands found your lower waist under the water, fingers spreading across your skin. They drifted lower, exploring, until they reached the place where bathing suit bottoms should have been and found only bare skin. He pulled back just enough to speak against your mouth, voice rough and startled.

“A-are you not wearing a bathing suit?”

You looked into the blank white eyes of the mask and shook your head. “To be fair, I didn’t think anyone else would come…” you whispered.

A smile curved against your lips. He pulled your hips closer in one smooth motion. You yelped softly as your bodies aligned, chests brushing against each others.

The kiss turned hot and messy fast. Tongues sliding, lips tugging, little sounds echoing the room. You grind your hips against him and felt the hard line of his cock through the wet fabric of his briefs, the ridge of it dragging against your clit with every slow roll. His hand slipped behind you, fingers sliding between your cheeks to find your cunts entrance from behind. He stroked along your folds, feeling how wet you already were even in the pool water, the stickiness against his fingertips.

You wrapped your arms around his neck. Nipples dragged across the warm plane of his chest with every small movement.

He moaned into your mouth but it was almost like a whimper, like someone who hadn’t been touched like this in a very long time. The sound went straight through you.

Together you managed to shove his wet briefs down his hips and off. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the head brushing your lower stomach under the water, twitching against your skin.

“I-is this okay?” he asked against your lips, voice quiet and careful even as his hips gave a tiny roll.

You pulled back just enough to tug the mask back down over his mouth, settling it properly. Then you nodded.

His hand left your entrance and wrapped around himself, guiding the head of his cock to your lips. He rubbed his blunt tip up and down, coating himself in your slick, teasing your entrance until you were shifting restlessly against him. Then, slowly, he sank you down.

The stretch burned in the best way. You gasped and dropped your forehead to his shoulder. His voice was right against your ear, soft and steady.

“Shh…it’s okay…I got you…”

You swallowed hard. His hands settled on your hips and guided you down, sinking you onto him inch by careful inch until you were fully seated, cunt stretched around the thick length of him, throbbing in time with your pulse. He threw his head back, a low, broken sound leaving him.

You could feel him twitching inside you, the slight pulse of his cock as he adjusted to you. Your own walls fluttered around him in answer.

“My god…” he moaned, hips jolting upward. “You feel so good…”

He started moving you, lifting and lowering your hips in a steady rhythm that grew faster and stronger. The water churned around your joined bodies. You sat up a little, looking down through the rippling surface to watch the way his cock disappeared into you over and over. The way he was holding you up, fucking up into you like it cost him nothing made you even wetter against him.

You ran one hand down his arm, feeling his muscles, then across the ridges of his abs. Your cunt clenched harder around him at the feel of it. He whimpered, the sound high and needy as he picked up the pace. You could almost picture the expression under the mask—mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, the way his brows would be drawn together.

“You feel so big inside of me…please don’t stop, don’t stop! Oh fuck, I’m so close—” The words tumbled out of you as your hands braced and gripped on his shoulders.

He shifted his grip, spun you both with easy strength so your back met the cool tile of the pool wall. Now he was the one thrusting into you. Hard thrusts that punched little moans from both of you. Water splashed with every snap of his hips.

“It feels so good… it’s so good—” There was a smile in his voice, almost a laugh of pure, overwhelmed pleasure.

A few more thrusts and he pulled out with a wet sound, jerking his cock as he came hard across your stomach under the water. Thick ropes of it streaked your skin. He panted, forehead nearly dropping to yours, body shuddering through the last pulses.

“Sorry—sorry, that was…really soon—” He sounded wrecked and embarrassed all at once.

You couldn’t help the soft giggle that slipped out. “It’s okay, Spider-Man…” you teased his name, watching the way his shoulders rose and fell, the vulnerable set of him even with the mask still firmly in place.

You both caught your breath for a minute, chests heaving. Then he leaned in again.

“Can you float?”

“I think so…?”

“Lift my mask up until my lips, please? I’ll make it up to you for…releasing so soon.”

You laughed and shook your head. “It’s fine, I promise—”

“Please?”

The soft insistence undid you. You reached up and lifted the bottom of the mask again, freeing his mouth. He pulled you with him as he moved backward slightly into the deeper water.

“Float for me, okay?”

You nodded, curious, and let yourself go. Your body rose, buoyant, arms out for balance. You heard the soft shift of water as he sank lower. Then a warm, wet tongue flattened against your cunt.

You twitched hard, a startled moan escaping. He licked in slow, thorough stripes at first, then focused, sucking your clit between his lips with careful pressure while his thumb slipped inside you, curling and stroking. The dual sensation made your thighs tremble. You struggled to stay floating, water lapping higher with every roll of your hips.

He didn’t rush. Hungry little sounds left him as he ate you out, tongue flicking, sucking, fucking you open with his finger until the pleasure coiled tight and broke. You came with a broken cry, body shaking, a rush of cum flooding his mouth. He kept licking through it, gentler now, then pressed soft open mouthed kisses to your folds and the insides of your thighs before rising again.

He tugged the mask back down fully and helped you stand, steadying you.

“I hope that makes it up…”

You nod hazily as the two of you drifted to the edge and sat side by side on the submerged ledge, water up to your chests once again, shoulders brushing. Conversation came easier now with quiet questions about his “line of work,” and his carefully vague answers that still somehow made you laugh with questions back at you that felt genuine. The tension in his body had loosened a fraction. Not gone. But he seemed softer around the edges.

Eventually you tilted your head. “Okay, so my turn… how do you know Black Widow?”

Both of his hands flew up to the sides of his mask like he’d just remembered something.

“Aw man—!”

© iheartwhre

[spiderman-reads]

Title: The Girl in the Cafeteria

Tom Holland Spider-Man (Peter Parker) x Female Reader

Setting: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)

The first thing Peter Parker noticed wasn't that you were the new student.

It was your smile.

You stood beside the guidance counselor, clutching your schedule while nervously looking around Midtown School of Science and Technology. The morning sun streamed through the windows behind you, making you look like you'd walked straight out of a movie.

Peter blinked.

"...Whoa."

"What?" Ned asked, following Peter's gaze.

Peter pointed ever so slightly.

"The new girl."

Ned looked over before grinning.

"Oh, dude..."

"What?"

"I know that face."

"I don't have a face."

"You absolutely have a face."

Peter quickly looked away.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mhm."

---

The rest of the day was torture.

Every class Peter hoped you'd walk into...

You didn't.

Every hallway he thought he'd bump into you...

Nothing.

Then lunchtime arrived.

"There she is!" Ned whispered dramatically.

Peter nearly dropped his lunch tray.

You had just walked into the cafeteria, scanning the room before finding an empty seat.

Peter's heart pounded.

"I should go say hi."

"Definitely."

"What do I say?"

"'Hi.'"

"What if she thinks I'm weird?"

"Peter."

"What if—"

"Go."

Peter inhaled deeply.

"Right."

He grabbed his tray and confidently started walking toward you.

You can do this.

Just be normal.

You're normal.

As he passed Flash Thompson's table, Flash intentionally stuck his foot out.

Peter caught it.

Normally, his spider-sense would've saved him.

Unfortunately...

He was too busy staring at you.

"Whoa—!"

His tray launched into the air.

Milk exploded.

French fries flew like confetti.

A slice of pizza smacked him right in the face.

The entire cafeteria went silent.

Then...

Laughter erupted.

Flash doubled over.

"Dude! Parker just got attacked by his own lunch!"

Peter stood frozen.

Milk dripped from his hoodie.

A fry slid off his shoulder.

"...Great."

He wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

---

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh.

Not because you were making fun of him...

But because the whole thing was weirdly adorable.

He looked so embarrassed.

Poor guy.

You stood up and walked over.

Peter slowly looked up, expecting another joke.

Instead...

You handed him a napkin.

"I think your pizza lost."

Peter stared.

"...Thanks."

"You okay?"

"I've...been better."

You giggled.

"It happens."

Peter rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'm usually not...this..."

He gestured toward himself.

"...covered in milk."

"I figured."

Another laugh escaped you.

Peter thought it was the prettiest sound he'd ever heard.

"I'm Peter."

"I know."

His eyes widened.

"You do?"

"You answered three questions in chemistry today."

"Oh."

"You seem really smart."

Peter's cheeks turned bright red.

"You think so?"

"I do."

He smiled so hard his face hurt.

Ned, watching from across the cafeteria, silently pumped his fist.

----

"I'm Y/N."

"Nice to meet you."

"You too."

There was an awkward silence.

Peter desperately searched his brain for something cool to say.

Instead...

"So..."

"So?"

"...I like...science."

You blinked.

"...Me too."

"Oh."

Another pause.

Peter mentally screamed.

Say something!

Anything!

Why are words so difficult?

You smiled softly.

"You know..."

"What?"

"I think it's kind of cute."

Peter frowned.

"What is?"

"That you're trying so hard."

His entire brain stopped working.

"C-Cute?"

"Mhm."

"You don't think I'm...awkward?"

"Oh, you're definitely awkward."

Peter's smile immediately disappeared.

"...But..."

"It makes you genuine."

His heart nearly exploded.

----

"Do you have a pen?" you asked.

Peter quickly searched every pocket he had.

"Uh...yeah!"

He handed it to you.

"What are you—"

Before he could finish, you gently took his arm.

Peter forgot how to breathe.

You carefully wrote a string of numbers across his forearm.

When you finished, you capped the pen.

"There."

Peter stared at his arm.

"...Is this..."

"My number."

His eyes became impossibly wide.

"You...gave me your number?"

You nodded.

"I figured if you were brave enough to survive that cafeteria disaster..."

You smiled warmly.

"...You'd probably be brave enough to text me."

Peter looked from the number...

Back to you...

Then back to the number.

"I..."

His voice cracked.

"I definitely will."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

The bell rang.

"I've gotta go."

You started walking away before glancing over your shoulder.

"Oh..."

"Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"I liked the dramatic entrance."

You winked.

"It was memorable."

Then you disappeared into the hallway.

----

Peter stood completely frozen.

Still staring at the numbers on his arm.

Ned sprinted over.

"DID SHE JUST GIVE YOU HER NUMBER?!"

Peter slowly nodded.

"I think..."

He looked down again.

"...I think she did."

Ned grabbed Peter by the shoulders.

"PETER PARKER!"

"I KNOW!"

Peter couldn't stop smiling.

He didn't even care that his hoodie still smelled like spoiled milk.

Because somehow...

Making a complete fool of himself had led to meeting the girl he couldn't stop thinking about.

And for the first time all day...

He was very glad he'd tripped.

[spiderman-reads]

Title: The Girl in the Cafeteria

Tom Holland Spider-Man (Peter Parker) x Female Reader

Setting: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)

The first thing Peter Parker noticed wasn't that you were the new student.

It was your smile.

You stood beside the guidance counselor, clutching your schedule while nervously looking around Midtown School of Science and Technology. The morning sun streamed through the windows behind you, making you look like you'd walked straight out of a movie.

Peter blinked.

"...Whoa."

"What?" Ned asked, following Peter's gaze.

Peter pointed ever so slightly.

"The new girl."

Ned looked over before grinning.

"Oh, dude..."

"What?"

"I know that face."

"I don't have a face."

"You absolutely have a face."

Peter quickly looked away.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mhm."

---

The rest of the day was torture.

Every class Peter hoped you'd walk into...

You didn't.

Every hallway he thought he'd bump into you...

Nothing.

Then lunchtime arrived.

"There she is!" Ned whispered dramatically.

Peter nearly dropped his lunch tray.

You had just walked into the cafeteria, scanning the room before finding an empty seat.

Peter's heart pounded.

"I should go say hi."

"Definitely."

"What do I say?"

"'Hi.'"

"What if she thinks I'm weird?"

"Peter."

"What if—"

"Go."

Peter inhaled deeply.

"Right."

He grabbed his tray and confidently started walking toward you.

You can do this.

Just be normal.

You're normal.

As he passed Flash Thompson's table, Flash intentionally stuck his foot out.

Peter caught it.

Normally, his spider-sense would've saved him.

Unfortunately...

He was too busy staring at you.

"Whoa—!"

His tray launched into the air.

Milk exploded.

French fries flew like confetti.

A slice of pizza smacked him right in the face.

The entire cafeteria went silent.

Then...

Laughter erupted.

Flash doubled over.

"Dude! Parker just got attacked by his own lunch!"

Peter stood frozen.

Milk dripped from his hoodie.

A fry slid off his shoulder.

"...Great."

He wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

---

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh.

Not because you were making fun of him...

But because the whole thing was weirdly adorable.

He looked so embarrassed.

Poor guy.

You stood up and walked over.

Peter slowly looked up, expecting another joke.

Instead...

You handed him a napkin.

"I think your pizza lost."

Peter stared.

"...Thanks."

"You okay?"

"I've...been better."

You giggled.

"It happens."

Peter rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'm usually not...this..."

He gestured toward himself.

"...covered in milk."

"I figured."

Another laugh escaped you.

Peter thought it was the prettiest sound he'd ever heard.

"I'm Peter."

"I know."

His eyes widened.

"You do?"

"You answered three questions in chemistry today."

"Oh."

"You seem really smart."

Peter's cheeks turned bright red.

"You think so?"

"I do."

He smiled so hard his face hurt.

Ned, watching from across the cafeteria, silently pumped his fist.

----

"I'm Y/N."

"Nice to meet you."

"You too."

There was an awkward silence.

Peter desperately searched his brain for something cool to say.

Instead...

"So..."

"So?"

"...I like...science."

You blinked.

"...Me too."

"Oh."

Another pause.

Peter mentally screamed.

Say something!

Anything!

Why are words so difficult?

You smiled softly.

"You know..."

"What?"

"I think it's kind of cute."

Peter frowned.

"What is?"

"That you're trying so hard."

His entire brain stopped working.

"C-Cute?"

"Mhm."

"You don't think I'm...awkward?"

"Oh, you're definitely awkward."

Peter's smile immediately disappeared.

"...But..."

"It makes you genuine."

His heart nearly exploded.

----

"Do you have a pen?" you asked.

Peter quickly searched every pocket he had.

"Uh...yeah!"

He handed it to you.

"What are you—"

Before he could finish, you gently took his arm.

Peter forgot how to breathe.

You carefully wrote a string of numbers across his forearm.

When you finished, you capped the pen.

"There."

Peter stared at his arm.

"...Is this..."

"My number."

His eyes became impossibly wide.

"You...gave me your number?"

You nodded.

"I figured if you were brave enough to survive that cafeteria disaster..."

You smiled warmly.

"...You'd probably be brave enough to text me."

Peter looked from the number...

Back to you...

Then back to the number.

"I..."

His voice cracked.

"I definitely will."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

The bell rang.

"I've gotta go."

You started walking away before glancing over your shoulder.

"Oh..."

"Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"I liked the dramatic entrance."

You winked.

"It was memorable."

Then you disappeared into the hallway.

----

Peter stood completely frozen.

Still staring at the numbers on his arm.

Ned sprinted over.

"DID SHE JUST GIVE YOU HER NUMBER?!"

Peter slowly nodded.

"I think..."

He looked down again.

"...I think she did."

Ned grabbed Peter by the shoulders.

"PETER PARKER!"

"I KNOW!"

Peter couldn't stop smiling.

He didn't even care that his hoodie still smelled like spoiled milk.

Because somehow...

Making a complete fool of himself had led to meeting the girl he couldn't stop thinking about.

And for the first time all day...

He was very glad he'd tripped.

[spideysquirrell]

BIG JUICY

in which peter becomes fond of his ass being ‘juicy’…

+ requests are open! :)

With the soft clicking of the door handle being turned, a roll of steam left the small bathroom you and Peter shared. After a long day of fighting the crime in the streets of New York, all he wanted now was to relax and spend the rest of his evening in your arms.

When he exited the bathroom, a small pile of dirty clothes in his hands, you were quick to glance and take note of an anomaly in this normally mundane scene. Your downstairs neighbors sweat pants.

Without even acknowledging your curious stare, Peter walked over to your laundry basket to drop his clothes in. However, as he came upon the basket, you caught a perfect view of the word bedazzled in silver crystals on his ass. A soft snort left your lips, a cheeky grin now on your face.

“You’re still wearing the neighbors sweats?” Your question caused your boyfriend to tense up, slowly turning around to face you and the nest of blankets on the twin mattress. Was the bed entirely too small for the both of you? Yes. Could you not afford a larger mattress? Yes. Was it also very comforting to have an excuse to hold you very close each night? Of course, yes.

“I was going to return them, but…” You raised an eyebrow in his direction, ceasing the seemingly endless typing you had to do to complete this paper to take in his next words. A part of him looked conflicted. Then, “They’re insanely comfortable.”

You squinted skeptically at him, then returned to your work. “Mhmm…”

“I’m not kidding, they are!” He argued, coming closer, climbing on the side of the bed closest to the wall. He basically shoved himself there with how many papers you had laid out before you. “You sure it’s not just cause they make your ass look good?”

It was a simple question, yet another one that threw him off his game. He didn’t respond immediately, breaking eye contact to look off into the distance. “… I’m sure.”

You were not going to let him live this down. “You hesitated.”

“I’m sure.”

“I still don’t believe you.”

“Okay, it’s both!”

“You finally admit it.” A triumphant smile etched its way onto your face, “It seriously does make your ass look good though.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

After a few tics went by, you finally broke the silence. “Y’know what?”

Peter looked up from your computer, awaiting your next compliment or playful jab at him. But, instead of either of those, you simply said; “Keep em’.”

“What happened to morals?” He scoffed, nudging your arm.

“Gone since you first put on those sweats, bug boy.”

“At least I know what to wear before I beg for another Star Wars Lego set.”

spideysquirrell — please do not plagiarize or use my works to train ai.

[cherrywineisawaltz]

MINORS DNI

Peter knew it was a bad idea to bring you to the lab. He had a hard enough time focusing when you weren’t around, plagued by the clock ticking the minutes away until he could see you, or the soft ding of his phone whenever you’d text, experiments and complicated chemical compounds meekly forgotten when your name lit up across his screen. It was a recipe for disaster. But you’d asked so nicely, fingers tugging at the tufts of hair at the base of his skull which made him dumbly agree to anything that came pouring from your mouth, which included a field trip to the lab. 

“This is where the magic happens,” he’d told you upon entering, cluttered boxes lining the walls with complicated equipment your gaze lingered on, Boards of equations with written compounds, half of Pete's handwriting, the other half his older lab counterpart. “I just have to make some more web fluid—easier to get it done while the docs out. Should be pretty quick.”

It was meant to be quick. Peter was not accustomed to working under your watchful gaze, perched up on the seat only a foot away from him, smooth legs crossed, tiny belt of a skirt inching further and further up your thighs. Your ankle bounced, voice in a soft lilt as you asked questions, unperturbed by the stutter of Peter's explanations, trying with a great amount of effort to focus on the task at hand and not the way your top sunk into a low cut and the sliver of your hip that peeked out whenever you shifted for a closer look. 

“How’d you learn how to do this?” you’d asked innocently, Peter’s eyes flitting over, swallowing under your pretty fluttering gaze. 

“Lot’s of trial and error,” he tried to laugh, the sound coming out choked and gasp-like. “The compounds only work together in very precise amounts, a little bit over or under the exact measurement I’m making web-soup. Or cement. It’s a pretty temperamental process.”

You hummed thoughtfully, scooting closer an inch, staring at the vial of milky white fluid, “So what’s it made out of?”

“It’s top secret. Can’t go spreading my secret weapon—it’s sort of my whole thing,” his lips curled into a grin when your fingers pinched his side. “But since you asked so nicely and pinched me relatively hard,” your teeth sunk into your lip as he began listing chemicals. The light of the lab desk shone off the soft arch of his throat which bobbed with each word, tongue peeking out to swipe across his lips, glasses perched at the edge of his nose. Your hand snuck across the space between you, settling on his knee, a sharp intake of breath halting his words before you urged him to continue.

“Uh, yeah, okay, well, there's salicylic acid, carbon tetrachloride, traces of potassium carbonate, and—uh,” a low groan revereberates into a sharp laugh as your hand sneaks up the thick ridgid muscle of his thigh, “Ethyl acetate and—something else I can’t think about—okay,” a exciteable shriek leaves your lips when Peter's hand grabs hold of your chair leg, metal screeching across the ground as he yanks you to him with ease, hand coming to close against the back of your neck to slot his lips against yours with a relieved sigh. 

“Oh my god, Peter!” you moan, fingers clutching tight to the wide expanse of his shoulders hunched over your arching body. Materials clatter over the desk as Peter yanks your hips to the edge, hands cupping your backside to sink his cock deeper into you, nose pressed to the arch of your throat as you gasp, pants only tugged halfway down his thigh, the band of your panties pressing a line into the inside of your thigh. The ridged taut muscles of his abdomen clench tight when every sheathe of his cock, glasses fogging at the bridge of his nose, barely staring over the edge to watch your tits bounce with every jolt of his hips, spurring him on, white lab light dancing across your sweat sheening skin. 

“Never gonna be able to focus in this lab ever again, y’know that?” he groans, lips sweeping up across your cheek to press his lips to yours again, tongue peeking to dip into your wanting mouth. The drag of his cock pulling in and out makes your breathing all tight and ragged, tongue sweeping against Peter's tongue with stilted movements, letting him lick into your mouth behind your teeth and deep into your mouth. “Gotta hurry,” he murmurs, hiking your thighs up higher onto his hips as he dips against you, “Don’t know when doc’s getting back. Not a lot of excuses to make for this position. Not—ah—exactly a technique we use in lab science.”

[sagewritings]

Human - Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

pairing: peter parker x female reader

synopsis: convinced that the darkness growing inside him will eventually take everything away, peter starts building walls between himself and the person he cares about most. but when you finally confront him about the distance he’s created, fear and loneliness come crashing down

word count: 3.3k

warnings: smut, angst, unprotected sex (read at your own discretion!)

a/n: hello everyone! please take note that this fic is 18+ and if you choose to proceed, your media consumption is up to you. if you'd like to check out my other works, you can check the pinned post in my blog:>

i hope you'll like this fic! happy reading!

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

“I hate New York air.”

You were lying flat on your back across the duvet, staring up at the ceiling fan's slow rotation, while Peter sat perched on the edge of the mattress. He wasn't really sitting so much as balancing, his weight shifted in a way that looked uncomfortable. He had been in the room for ten minutes, but he hadn't actually settled in.

The apartment was quiet, save for the distant hum of the radiator and the muffled sound of a siren three blocks over. It was the kind of Tuesday where nothing happened, the kind of evening where you usually ordered Thai food and argued over which movie to watch until you both fell asleep halfway through.

But for the last three weeks, the rhythm of your life had shifted. The spaces between your conversations had grown wider, filled with a heavy, unspoken static that made the air feel thick.

Peter laughed, but the sound was short and breathless. He didn't look at you. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the window, his pupils dilated and wide.

"Right," he muttered, his voice sounding raspier than it had been a month ago.

"You're doing it again," you said, your voice cutting through the silence as you shifted, the duvet rustling beneath you.

You didn't move to touch him. You had learned that lately, any sudden movement made him flinch, his muscles locking up like a coiled spring.

"That distancing act. You've been in the room for ten minutes and you haven't actually sat down once. Where are you going, Peter? It’s almost midnight."

He finally looked at you, and for a second, the expression on his face was heartbreaking. It wasn't just the tiredness; it was almost blank. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.

"Just a quick thing," he murmured, his eyes darting back to the window. "Something came up. A lead on a case."

The lie was clumsy, a hollow shell of the effortless excuses he used to give. You sat up slowly, the cold air of the room hitting your skin, and you felt a surge of frustration that had been simmering for days.

You remembered the version of him from a few months ago—the boy who would sprawl across the bed with you, limbs tangled, talking about nothing for hours. Now, he felt like a stranger wearing his own skin, a person that only visited the bedroom to check if you were still there before fleeing back into the night.

"A lead," you repeated, your voice dripping with a skepticism that made him stiffen. "Is that what we're calling it now? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're terrified of being in the same room as me for more than fifteen minutes. You don't sleep, you barely eat, and you're literally vibrating."

Peter didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he let out a sharp, jagged exhale that sounded more like a hiss than a breath. He stepped back, his heels clicking against the hardwood, the movement so abrupt it was almost violent. He looked at the window again, his fingers twitching at his sides, the veins in his neck straining.

"I'm fine," he snapped, though the conviction wasn't there. His voice cracked, the raspiness returning with a visceral edge. "I'm just... busy. There's a lot happening out there, and you don't understand how fast things move. I can't just—"

"I don't care about the 'out there' right now!" You stood up, the duvet sliding off your shoulders, and for the first time in weeks, you didn't give him the space he was craving. You stepped into his perimeter, closing the gap until you could feel the heat radiating off his skin. "Look at me, Peter. Not the window."

He resisted for a heartbeat, his gaze flickering, before he finally locked eyes with you. Up close, the change was more apparent. There was a wildness in his pupils, a flickering intensity that felt less like a man and more like something that hunted in the dark. He looked terrified—not of a villain or a disaster, but of you. He looked like he was afraid he might accidentally break you just by existing in your space.

"I can't," he whispered, the words barely escaping his throat. He stepped back again, but his heel caught on the edge of the rug, and for a split second, his balance shifted. His hand shot out to steady himself, his fingers digging into the wooden bedpost with a force that made him groan.

He looked down at his hand, his expression twisting into one of disgust. "I can't be near you. Not like this. Everything is too loud, too bright, and I... I feel like if I touch you, I won't know how to stop."

"Stop what?"

You didn't flinch. You stepped forward again, closing the gap he had just tried to create, until your chest was nearly brushing against his. "Stop loving me? Stop wanting to be here? Peter, whatever is happening to you, you don't have to fight it by yourself."

The mask finally slipped, and he collapsed forward, not into a hug, but sinking to his knees before you, his forehead resting against your waist. His breathing was erratic, coming in quick, shallow bursts. "It's getting louder," he choked out. "The instincts. It's taking over. I look at you and I don't just see the person I love; I can hear your heartbeat, I can smell you. I feel like an animal in my own living room."

The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn't the tension of the last few weeks. It was a shared breath, a moment of clarity. You reached down, your fingers sliding into the thick, messy curls of his hair, grounding him.

You felt the tension in his shoulders and you didn't pull away. Instead, you leaned down, pressing your cheek against the top of his head.

"You're not an animal, Peter," you whispered, your fingers massaging the tension at the base of his skull.

He let out a shaky breath against your stomach. He didn't pull away, but you felt the way his muscles continued to ripple beneath your touch, an electric current of energy that seemed to fight against the stillness of the room. He stayed there for a long time, anchored by your touch, before he slowly looked up.

"I've spent three weeks imagining the worst case scenario," he admitted, his voice barely a murmur. "I thought if I just stayed away, I could figure it out. I thought if I kept my distance, I could protect you from whatever is happening to me."

You stepped back just enough to take his face in both of your hands, forcing him to look at you. You could feel the heat of him, a simmering radiance that made your own skin prickle. "You don't protect me by disappearing, Peter. You protect me by being honest. You have to remember that you’re human."

You slid your hands from his cheeks to the back of his neck, pulling him upward until your foreheads rested against each other.

"I'm right here. I'm not fragile, Peter. And I'm not going anywhere."

He made a low, guttural sound in the back of his throat. He crashed into you, his arms wrapping around your waist with a desperate intensity that nearly knocked the wind out of you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and erratic against your skin. You felt the ripple of his muscles, the terrifying power he was trying so hard to suppress, but you only held him tighter, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.

"I missed you," he whispered, the words sounding bruised and fragile. "God, I missed you so much it actually hurt."

You smiled, reaching up to brush a stray curl from his forehead. "Then stop leaving me alone while you swing around New York." You felt the low rumble of a laugh in his chest, a sound that finally reached his eyes, though the pupils remained wide, tracking every expression on your face. He looked at your lips, and for a heartbeat, the air in the room seemed to vanish, replaced by a sudden tension that made the hair on your arms stand up.

He leaned in, hesitating just a fraction of an inch from your skin. "I'm still... I'm still worried about the strength," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," you whispered, the words barely audible over the sound of your own quickening pulse. You reached out, your fingers sliding under the hem of his shirt to find the warm, hard plane of his abdomen. He jumped slightly, a sharp intake of breath hissing through his teeth, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned into the touch.

Peter’s eyes closed, his head tilting back as if he were trying to memorize the sensation of your touch. He looked like a man starving, finally being offered a feast he wasn't sure he was allowed to touch. "I'll be gentle," he promised, his voice sounding thick, strained by the effort of holding himself back. "Everything is just... so loud. The way you smell, the way your skin feels... it's overwhelming."

You didn't give him time to overthink the physics of his strength. You reached up and pulled him down into a kiss, a deep, demanding collision that tasted of desperation and relief. Peter gasped, his arms tightening around you, lifting you off your feet with an effortless, jarring strength that would have been frightening if it weren't so hungry. He backed you into the bedroom wall, the impact soft but firm, his body pinning you.

His kisses were frantic, grazing your jaw and the curve of your neck with a feverish intensity. He was shaking, his muscles twitching with that restless, animal energy, but as he moved, he was meticulously careful. He used the backs of his hands to cradle your face, his grip light, as if you were made of glass, even as his lower body pressed into yours with his weight.

He was fighting himself, the part of him that wanted to devour everything and the part of him that lived in terror of breaking you.

"I've got you," you whispered against his lips, your hands sliding up to lock behind his neck, pulling him deeper into your space. "I've got you, Peter. Just let go."

The permission seemed to snap something inside him. He groaned, and his lips crashed back onto yours with a renewed, starving hunger. He didn't just kiss you; he consumed you, his tongue tracing the line of your teeth with a desperate urgency.

He shifted his weight, his leg sliding between yours, the friction of his denim against your skin sending a jolt of heat straight to your core.

With a sudden fluid motion, Peter shifted his grip. He hoisted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to keep from slipping. He carried you the short distance to the bed in a blur of movement, depositing you onto the duvet with a softness that contrasted the raw intensity in his eyes. He hovered over you, his arms bracing his weight, the muscles in his biceps bulging and trembling. He looked down at you, his pupils nearly swallowing his irises.

"You're so warm," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper as he began to trail kisses down your throat.

Peter’s hands were shaking, not from fear anymore, but from the sheer effort of restraint. He paused, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing a series of jagged hitches. "Tell me to stop," he whispered. "Right now. If it gets to be too much, just tell me."

You didn't answer with words. Instead, you reached down and gripped the waistband of his trousers, tugging him closer until there wasn't a single millimeter of air left between you. The contact caused a visible shudder to ripple through his entire frame. He let out a low moan, a sound that vibrated through your own ribs.

He moved with grace, sliding down your body. As he knelt between your legs, his movements were calculated and slow, as if he were fighting the urge to simply pounce. When his lips finally met the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, you gasped, your fingers curling into the sheets. He was tasting you, his tongue tracing the curve of your hip with a precision that felt electric.

As he worked his way closer to your center, Peter paused again, glancing up at you with those wide, dark pupils. He looked like he was asking for permission to devour you. When you arched your hips toward him, an affirmative whimper escaping your throat, he let out a sharp hiss of breath and dove in.

“Fuck, Peter.”

The first touch of his tongue was a shock—precise, hot, and focused. Peter explored you with a sensory intensity that felt like he was mapping every nerve ending. He used his heightened senses to track the exact moment your breath hitched, the slight tremor in your thighs, and the way your heart hammered against your ribs like a trapped bird.

“Come on, sweetheart. Give it to me.”

Each flick of his tongue was timed to the rhythm of your pleasure, his movements blurring with a speed that made your head spin. He groaned as he drank in the sounds you were making—the soft gasps and the way you called his name.

His hands gripped your hips with a strength that was just on the edge of being too much, anchoring you to the bed as you tried to pull away from the intensity. As the pressure built, Peter shifted, his tongue swirling and pressing with a relentless, rhythmic hunger. You felt the tension coil in your stomach, a tight spring winding tighter and tighter until it finally snapped. You cried out, your fingers locking into his hair, your body shuddering.

Peter didn't pull away immediately; he lingered, tasting your release from his lips, his eyes looking up at you with a raw, possessive heat that made your breath catch all over again.

"You're okay," he murmured, his voice rough. "Tell me you're okay."

"More than okay," you panted, your voice breathless. "Peter, please. Now."

Peter didn’t need to be told twice. He surged upward, his movements a blur of fluid strength as he stripped away the last of his clothes. In the dim light of the bedroom, his body looked sculpted, every muscle defined and shimmering with a fine sheen of sweat. He hovered over you, his arms locking out to support his weight, though he looked as if he were vibrating with the effort of not simply collapsing onto you.

"I'm going to be careful," he whispered, though his voice was low that suggested he was barely holding on. "I promise."

He slid between your legs, his skin hot against yours. The moment he entered you, a sharp, ragged groan escaped his throat, his head falling back as he fought the instinct to thrust with a force that would have been devastating. He froze for a second, his muscles locking up, his eyes squeezed shut as he forced himself to synchronize his rhythm with your breath. He was fighting his own instincts, forcing himself to remain the man you loved.

"You feel... god, you feel so tight," he groaned, his voice thick. He began to move, a slow, punishing slide that felt like it was marking every single inch of your walls. "I can feel your heart, sweetheart... I can feel it beating against mine."

“Just fuck me, Peter. Fuck me like you missed me.” You moaned.

He shifted his grip, his hands sliding under your back to hoist you upward, pulling your chest flush against his. The friction was electric, the heat of his skin feeling like a brand against your own. Peter’s breathing had devolved into a series of jagged hitches, his movements becoming more instinctive, more fluid.

"You're so soft," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper against the shell of your ear. "Everything about you is so perfect. My perfect girl."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down so you could taste the salt on his skin, your legs locking tightly around his waist to draw him deeper. "I've got you. Just feel me," you whispered, your voice a catalyst that broke the last of his hesitation.

His pace shifted. The slow, deliberate slides vanished, replaced by a raw, driving hunger. He began to thrust with an intensity that made the bed frame groan under the pressure of his strength. Every time he hit deep, a sharp, electric jolt shot through you, and you could feel the vibration of his pleasure echoing through his entire frame.

“Your pussy feels so good, fucking hell,” he gasped, the words barely escaping his throat as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His voice was a wrecked, raw thing, stripped of all pretense.

He was moving faster now. Each thrust was a heavy, pulsing collision. He was claiming every inch of your space, his body a living current of electricity and desperation.

You felt the muscles in his back ripple and lock, his fingers digging further into the mattress on either side of your head.

“Peter, right there,” you whimpered, your hips tilting upward to meet him, your legs tightening around his waist.

The sound of your voice seemed to snap the last thread of his restraint. He shifted his angle, driving deeper. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide, his gaze flickering on your breasts as they bounce every time your bodies collide.

“P-Peter, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You whined, almost gasping for air.

“Cum for me, Y/n. Let me feel you squeeze my cock.” He surged forward one last time, a deep, shuddering thrust.

A broken sound escaped him as he felt your release, your legs shaking from the intense pleasure surging throughout your body, your vision turning white for a brief moment.

He studied your face, making sure you reached your high first before he spilled his warm cum inside you.

He collapsed against your body, his forehead pressing hard into your shoulder. He sank, his muscles going slack all at once.

For several minutes, the only sound in the room was the synchronized, ragged rhythm of your breathing. Peter didn’t move, his heart hammering against your ribs. He stayed tucked into the crook of your neck, his grip on you still possessive, occasionally giving your collarbone and breasts small pecks.

"Did I..." he started, barely audible. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours with a sudden, sharp anxiety. The dilated pupils were finally beginning to contract, the wildness receding to reveal the familiar, worried boy you knew. "Did I go too far? Did I hurt you?"

"Peter," you interrupted, your voice soft and grounding. You reached up, cupping his face and forcing him to stay in the moment. "Look at me. I'm perfectly intact. In fact, I'm more than okay." You smiled, a genuine, warm expression that seemed to act as a physical anchor for him. "You didn't break anything. Except maybe my legs, but I’ll manage."

He chuckled. For the first time in weeks, his mind was still. He listened to your heartbeat, slowing down each minute as you relaxed. He briefly stood up to get a towel to clean both of your bodies before he pulled the duvet upwards.

His hand was warm against your back, tracing small circles that instantly made you feel drowsy. But before you could fully succumb to sleep, you heard him speak.

“I love you, sweetheart. Thank you for keeping me human.”

[imagine-that]

Moving Day… Kinda?

One shot #59 - and a part 2 to Dirty Laundry

Summary: The strange boy next door becomes a boyfriend, and somehow even stranger too....

Pairing: Peter Parker x gender neutral! Reader

Warnings: this takes place during Spiderman: Brand New Day - while it doesn't contain any direct spoilers, it does hint at them. Just in case you don't want any at all! - also it’s a bit fluffy for the themes or BND - I just think Peter deserves some smiles sometimes too 🥺🥺

A/N: And the motivations just keeppppp flowing! there was a request for part 2 to Dirty Laundry, so here we are!!!! Enjoy!!!!

"Can you pass me my shirt baby? And don't put it on first this time." You tease your boyfriend with a wink over your shoulder. He stares at you blankly for a moment, a sign that he thinks the joke has gotten old.

Peter sighs, walks across the small space and hands the shirt over to you with a smile. "You know, it's funny that you still say that, even though I've only worn any of your clothes once." He points out, leaning down to peck your lips.

"Hmm, yes, but y'know there's always a chance." You smirk back, pecking his own again.

For the past 6 months, the strange boy upstairs had been turned into your boyfriend. You went on multiple dates around the city, including - as he promised - going out dancing.

"I mean, I do have more clothes of my own, but most of them are all downstairs, which is just sooooo far away." You pout playfully.

Peter laughs with a coy smile, nodding in agreement. "It's a good thing you have a key to there and can grab anything you need whenever you need." He teases back.

Most of your nights and days off were spent at his place, and his were starting to be spent at yours.

"Ah yes, but for whatever reason, your bed is so much more comfortable than mine. Sleep like a baby in it too, maybe I'll have to take it back downstairs with me one day when you're busy." You giggle, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend's sturdy frame.

To you, it made total sense to just move in together. But it was clearly not that simple. Peter still acted strange. He didn't always answer your calls, he had to leave at random times, and sometimes when he came back he would have bruises, a bloody lip or some other inexplainable injury of sorts.

All reasons of the above made you too nervous to ever directly bring up the subject, though god you wanted to so bad.

"I have to go handsome. But I'll see you after work? Dinner at my place?" You suggest, pulling the shirt over your head and smoothing it down neatly.

"Absolutely. I will call you later." He promises, leaning down for a more full kiss. You smile against his lips, returning the gesture.

"See you then Parker. And wearing your own pants this time." You throw in one last dig, waggling your fingers at him as he scoffs and you run out the door.

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

That night...

He did not, in fact, call. All day.

After a long day at work, you had returned home, dropped your stuff and taken a shower. Your ringer was on for all of it, just anticipating the familiar ringtone of your boyfriend.

And yet, in all of those hours, the phone remained quiet. You even rebooted your phone twice incase it was some kind of a fluke. Still, there were no notifications, no voicemails, no rings.

Now, you sat in the living room to your apartment, already changed into your comfies and checking the clock again.

"Hey, Pete... it's me, again. I just want to know where you're at. Call me back or get your butt over here. Love you." You sigh into the phone, leaving a 3rd voicemail in the last half hour.

This was not normal, even for his weird. You were starting to get worried.

Just as you're about to start pacing again, you hear a key enter the door and you jump to face it just as Peter comes through the frame.

"Y/N, I am so sorry. I was on the train and it got stalled and took so long and I am just so sorry." He insists, holding up a bouquet of flowers in his hands towards you.

You let out a sigh of relief, taking a seat on the couch and raking your hands through your hair.

"Peter you had me so insanely worried. I mean you didn't even pick up your phone at all the past few hours and all I could think was the worst and... I don't know I was just worried." You sigh.

"I know. I promise, I know. I just had no signal. And couldn't get a hold of you!" He says, his words coming out of his mouth a little too fast for you to believe them.

"Peter I'm not dumb... I know there's something going on with you. Are you... are you actually doing drugs now? Are you seeing someone else? Please just tell me whatever it is that you are doing because I need some kind of explanation..."

"No Y/N! I promise, it is absolutely none of that! I would never!" He swears, kneeling down to your level on the floor.

"Then what is it Peter? Because I can't keep pretending that I don't notice how strange you've been acting since the day we met. I love you Peter, but I am not going to play dumb." You swear, looking him in the eyes to show him how serious you are.

"Ok the truth is... honestly it might be better if I just show you." He says, sounding tired, but not hesitant. You silently nod your head in agreement.

He softly takes your hand in his, pulling you both up to a stand with him.

Together you walk upstairs and into his apartment, where he stops in front of his closet.

"Before I show you this babe, you need to just... not freak out... just stay calm... ok?" He stammers.

"Are you hiding the fact that you have a bunch of my clothes in here, or that you're Hannah Montana?" You ask dryly. Peter blinks at you, clearly unamused. "Ok I'm sorry... I'm just nervous." You admit.

"Me too." He says under his breath.

Without another word, he opens the closet doors and turns on the light, pulling out a hanger.

You stare with wide eyes at what sits on the hanger, flashes of blue and red in your vision.

"Sooooo.... your secret is you're a really big spiderman superfan?" You ask, reaching out to run your hands over the fabric. "Or a spiderman impersonator? Or you stole his suit too?" You continue to guess.

"I- no. I'm... I am spiderman Y/N." He admits, glancing up at you to see your reaction.

You stifle a giggle. "Wow you really get into character." You tease, clearly trying to deflect everything.

"Oh for gosh sake-" Peter mutters an before you know it he's pulling on the suit.

"What are you..." You start, stopping in your tracks as he pulls the mask over his face and walks over to the window, yanking it open.

Before you can say another word, he wraps a strong arm around your waist and pulls you towards the open window, pulling you both through it and onto the fire escape.

You hardly have a moment to think before you're letting out a loud scream as you start flying through the air, tightening your grip on Peter so much that you know he'll have markings on him.

He goes in a few different directions, clearly knowing the routes well.

You go over water, around buildings, everything for a few blocks until finally he lands back on solid ground on the fire escape steps.

"Oh my god- OH MY GOD! All of the marks, all of the late times... OH MY GOD... I'm dating the Spiderman-" You babble, slowly releasing your hold on him and stepping back onto your feet.

Peter pulls of the mask, his face one of guilt.

"I wanted to tell you sooner. God, I wanted to take you for a ride like that a week into meeting you. But I've told people... in the past, I've told people. And, they got hurt... And I got hurt. And I lost those people. So I was scared to show you." He admits, pulling you tightly into his chest.

You still there, stopping your chatter to look up at him. He looks hurt. He looks scared.

"Peter, I was so worried about you. That's what this was. I thought you were into bad stuff, I thought that you were hurt. I never imagined it would be this amazing, heroic, selfless thing going on. It must be so hard for you to deal with this on your own... and here I thought my big problem of asking you to move in together was tough, and yet you're dealing with this whole dual personalities thing." You chatter, not realizing what you just let slip.

"Hang on... you've been worrying about us moving in together?" He asks, a smile touching his lips.

"Well yeah silly, that's what I was trying to talk to you about this morning. And I was finally going to ask you tonight, but... welll..." You gesture towards his suited-up self, and he chuckles.

A big, full smile touches Peters lips, which is apparently contagious because one touches yours too.

"Since I stole your thunder, I think I owe you this... us this actually." He smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Will you move in here y/n? I love you, and I would love nothing more. I've got nothing more to hide from you, I promise." He says, holding both of your hands in his.

You giggle happily, pulling into a very tight hug with him. "Of course I will you spider-dork. But only if you promise not to steal my wardrobe when I do." You tease, letting out a full belly laugh as he playfully scowls at you.

"I only did that once Y/N. And I don't regret it, because it's how I met the most amazing roommate to be. I love you." He replies, and as he kisses you out on the fire escape of your new shared home, you can't help but wholeheartedly agree.

[imagine-that]

Dirty Laundry

One shot #58 - find part 2 here

Summary: A strange boy comes in through the laundry room window… what happens next?

Pairing: Peter Parker x gender neutral! Reader

Warnings: this takes place during Spiderman: Brand New Day - while it doesn't contain any direct spoilers, it does hint at them. Just in case you don't want any at all! - also it’s a bit fluffy for the themes or BND - I just think Peter deserves some smiles sometimes too 🥺🥺

A/N: it’s been a longgggggggg while!!!!! I've been wanting to write again for quite a while now and I have had 0 motivation or inspiration butttttt when a new spiderman movie comes out, so do my ideassss! Enjoy yall!

You stared blankly at a white shirt in your basket, trying to think of how to get the giant stain out of the fabric. Leave it to newyorkers to spill coffee all over you and not even apologize.

Music hummed in the background and kept you at peace. Soon enough, the rhythm picks up and so does the movement of your feet.

Knowing you're definetly the only person in the room, you let the music take over and start dancing around the dank laundry room.

You knew you wouldn't need to worry about anyone coming in. The apartment building you lived in wasn't exactly crawling with tenants, nor did it have a long waitlist. That was what you liked about it - in the heart of Brooklyn, quiet and secluded within one of the busiest cities in the world.

Your landlord was a polite older man, your neighbour a younger girl in her mid 20s who rarely made a peep.

Your upstairs neighbour was the weirdest thing about the building. He was young, like you, but he seemed... reserved, if there was a polite way to put it. You rarely saw him even leave the apartment, and it made you wonder if he actually even lived there, or if he was some kind of squatter of sorts.

Your thoughts strayed from your neighbours as the music picked back up again, and you scooped up a lighter pile out of the bin and dumped it unceremoniously into the washer barrel. Spinning back around with a flourish to grab soap, you let out a loud shriek at what faced you.

Tumbling through the window was none other than your upstairs neighbour himself. He was no more normal than usual, this time in his underwear and nothing more.

You resisted the urge to take a slow up and down glance of his hard physique, instead focusing on the fact that he is coming in through a basement window instead of the door like any other person in the building would.

"Oh my gosh- so sorry! I didn't- I am so sorry!" He babbles, grabbing the nearest thing to cover himself. The nearest thing happens to be a bright pink hello kitty towel you assume the girl next door to you forgot down here, but you're too stunned to laugh.

"You do know there's a door for coming in from... right? Like all other people here use..." You stammer, still staring at him and realizing you're holding up a bottle of laundry detergent like it would be able to defend you.

"Yeah... I- I'll try that next time... promise." He murmurs back, chuckling awkwardly.

When you don't move from your position, he moves quickly, almost tripping over the towel as he grabs the nearest clothes and starts pulling them on. Once he's decent, the strange boy awkwardly smiles at you and makes his way to the door.

It's only after he's left you standing there stunned for a few moments that you realize he actually took YOUR clothes.

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

The next day...

After a long morning at work, all you want to do is curl up under a blanket in your comfiest pants (the ones that of course have juicy right across the butt) and watch TV mindlessly.

Unfortunately for you, those happen to be the pants your strange (and admittedly hot) neighbour happened to steal.

After nearly talking yourself out of going upstairs for the fiftieth time, you finally let out an annoyed sigh and head up the narrow stairwell to the next floor.

Finding the door you were looking for, you grumble to yourself about acting like a grown up. Your hand reaches the door and you rap on it a few times, half expecting the boy not to be home again.

You're proven wrong when the door opens and he is standing on the other side, a hand to his temple. He looks extremely tired, even just from a first glance.

"You're supposed to just leave it down-" He starts, sounding even more tired than he looks. But he stops himself as his eyes reach yours and widen. "Oh my gosh I'm sorry, I thought you were the pizza delivery driver."

You wave him off. "It's fine. Visitors are a rarity here so I get it."

He smiles at that, and the curve of his mouth makes your cheeks redden.

You clear your throat. "I'm um... I'm here because you have something of mine here." You explain, silently hitting yourself for your awkward nature.

He looks confused for a moment. You try not to laugh as you see the realization strike.

"Oh my... those were your clothes yesterday weren't they..." Now he's the one with reddening cheeks, which makes you giggle.

"They are, and they happen to be some of my comfiest clothes so I would like to have them back again believe it or not." You joke. He winces again, immediately scrambling around the apartment to find your belongings.

"I am so so sorry. I meant to swing by and get them back to you, I just didn't know who's they were... and I didn't really know how to explain to all of my neighbours that I stole someones clothes because I was in the laundry room half naked." The boy rambles, tossing things around the floor.

"I- are you on drugs?" You blurt, a hand jutting to your mouth as you try to stop the word vomit from spewing more.

"Uh... What?" He asks nervously, stopping in his tracks.

"I am so sorry! That came out strange... and rude." You grimace. "I just... you're really squirrely, and you shut yourself up here all the time and.... I don't know, I guess I thought maybe you were shutting yourself into the apartment storage room because you were cooking drugs or something... I am so sorry. I would like to take my foot out of my mouth now." You exclaim, hiding your face from him.

To your shock, he laughs. His laugh fills up the room like a laugh that hasn't been heard for a long time.

"I didn't actually realize anyone was keeping such a close eye..." He mutters, and you almost miss the look of nerves that crosses his features. "To answer your question, no drugs... I just... I do research! Lots of research. I'm a research student!" He says, though his tone is the least convincing you've ever heard.

He notices the look of disbelief from you and sighs before making his way across the room to you.

"I am a bad liar aren't I." He sighs and the smile reappears as you shake your head.

He stays there, shifting from foot to foot as though trying to think of another excuse.

"If I didn't know any better I would think you might have some sort of secret identity or something." You tease, giggling as his face reddens again.

You take a minute to glance around as he struggles to explain.

The room is small, one twin bed, a kitchenette, and a closet. You see a door that leads to what you assume is the bathroom.

However, you notice quickly that there is a lack of personal items. The apartment looks almost the same as yours did when you first viewed your own, save for a few pieces he clearly brought on his own.

"You don't like decorating, do you." You note, continuing to scan the room.

"You are very observant." He chuckles nervously, and you feel your own face warm. "I'm... not home often. Not much of a point in decorating."

"So I've noticed. And yet you're home often enough to steal outfits from poor unsuspecting neighbours." You point out and laugh as he scrambles across the room to find your clothes again, clearly having forgotten why you came.

He throws his hands in the air in victory as he picks up a pair of velvetty sweats, and a tee-shirt you instantly recognize.

"Please tell me you didn't stretch that out too much." You plead and again, clap a hand to your mouth when you realize how that may sound. "Oh my god! I did not mean it that way - I just mean... you have a much more... solid physique than I do- so to speak." You explain.

He hands you the clothes with a sheepish grin that matches your own.

"Special shirt is it?" He asks.

"Its... I mean..." You think as he holds up the sparkly spiderman tshirt.

"Well... It's kind of a long story, but basically, spiderman saved my sister on the street when those crazy weirdos with the metal arms and flying things showed up and... I've just kind of been a fan since." You shrug.

He grins in a way you don't quite understand, and you think to yourself again how strange he is. And yet, you find yourself wanting to learn more about him. Everything about him if you can.

"I just realized I never introduced myself between accusing you of doing drugs and offending your body." You say. "I'm Y/N Y/L/N. I live one floor down, have for a while. I've wanted to introduce myself, just you seem... busy a lot."

He smiles again and you swear you could melt.

"Nice to meet you Y/N. I'm.... I'm Peter. Peter Parker." He reaches for your hand and you feel tingles up your arms as it meets his big strong one.

You're not sure what it is about him that has a pull to it, all you know is you're glad he stole your clothes so you could see him as more than just the strange upstairs neighbour.

You fold the clothes up to give your hands something to do, tucking them under your arm as you finish.

"I should go.... but if you get bored of being a hermit, I'm apartment 3C. Come knock on the door whenever." You invite, surprising even yourself with your boldness.

Peter's grin only grows as he nods.

"I would.... I would like that actually. Maybe in my own clothes this time." He adds and you giggle as you step out the doorway.

"It's a plan then. Sometime." You agree, lifting your hand in a wave. "See you around... Peter." His name plays off your lips in a way you really happen to like.

"See you later Y/N. And I mean, maybe I'll get to see some more of those killer moves when I do see you." He throws in behind you as you're turning to walk away, earning a scoff and a wide eyed look from you as he wiggles his fingers goodbye and shuts the door behind you.

Later in the evening, as you finally settle onto the couch in your comfies, you can't help but notice that your clothes smell a lot like the strange boy upstairs. And you happen to like it.

[sagewritings]

Friendly Neighbour - Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

pairing: peter parker x female reader

synopsis: after the world forgets who peter parker is, he convinces himself that being alone is the only way to keep people safe. but when his stubborn neighbor accidentally discovers that he’s spider-man, the walls he’s spent years building around himself slowly begin to crumble—just as a new threat sets its sights on the one person who managed to get close enough to break them down.

word count: 11k

warnings: mild spoilers from spider-man: brand new day, some inaccuracies from the film lmao, angst

a/n: hello everyone! i just watched spider-man: bnd a few days ago and i just had to write something lol. if you'd like to check out my other works, you can check the pinned post in my blog :>

i hope you'll like this fic! happy reading!

ִ ࣪𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ

There was something strangely comforting about hearing other people through paper-thin apartment walls.

The sound of someone dragging groceries across the hallway. The distant hum of a television from two floors below. Laughter echoing from somewhere down the corridor at two in the morning because apparently, unlike you, some people in New York actually had functioning sleep schedules.

The elevator dinged as you stepped inside, your backpack hanging off one shoulder and an iced coffee clutched in your hand. Your morning lecture had been canceled, which meant that, for the first time in weeks, you could actually go back to your apartment and catch up on sleep.

Just as the doors were about to close, a hand shot between them. The doors slid back open.

Peter Parker stepped inside.

You had seen him around enough times to know that he lived on your floor, only a few doors away from yours. You also knew that he was probably around your age, spent an alarming amount of time outside at ungodly hours, and had a habit of looking like he hadn’t slept in three business days.

You didn’t know much else. Mostly because Peter Parker was impossible to talk to.

“Hey.”

Peter looked up from the floor, startled for some reason, before offering a small nod. “Hey.”

The elevator doors closed.

You shifted your weight awkwardly. “Early morning?”

Peter glanced down at the watch on his wrist as if he’d somehow forgotten what time it was.

“Uh, yeah. Something like that.”

You smiled. “You look exhausted.”

He let out a quiet laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. “Thanks.”

“That wasn’t supposed to be an insult.”

“No, I know.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward, but the smile disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared.

The rest of the ride passed in silence.

By now, you’d gotten used to it.

It wasn’t that Peter was rude. In fact, whenever you ran into him in the hallway or outside the building, he always smiled politely and held doors open for people. He just never stayed long enough for a conversation.

The elevator stopped on your floor. You stepped out first, Peter following close behind.

“You know,” you said, turning toward him as both of you walked down the hallway, “one of these days, I’m actually going to get more than two sentences out of you.”

Peter nearly dropped the keys he was trying to fish out of his pocket. “What?”

You laughed. “I’m serious. We’ve lived on the same floor for, like, months now, and somehow I still know absolutely nothing about you.”

He finally found his keys, although judging by the way he almost dropped them again, the victory was short-lived.

“Maybe I’m just boring.”

You stopped in front of your apartment door and frowned. “I don’t think boring people come home at four in the morning.”

Peter froze for a split second.

You immediately regretted saying it. “Oh my God, that sounded creepy. I’m not keeping track of your schedule, I swear. The walls are just really thin.”

To your surprise, Peter laughed. Like, actually laughed. “No, it’s okay.”

For the first time since you’d met him, he looked relaxed.

And then, just as quickly as the moment appeared, it vanished.

“Well…” he said quietly, turning back toward his apartment. “I’ll see you around.”

Before you could respond, he disappeared behind his door.

~~~~~

The next few weeks went exactly the same way.

You’d run into Peter in the elevator. You’d try to make conversation. He’d answer politely. Then he’d retreat back into whatever corner of his life he kept hidden from everyone else.

It became a routine.

“Long day again?”

Peter, standing in the elevator at midnight with dark circles under his eyes and a suspicious tear in the sleeve of his hoodie, blinked at you.

“You have no idea.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s concerning.”

“I’m choosing to ignore that comment.”

“Thanks.”

For some reason, despite how painfully awkward he could be, you found yourself looking forward to those tiny interactions.

Maybe it was because Peter was one of the only people in the building who was around your age.

Maybe it was because you recognized loneliness when you saw it.

Or maybe it was because every now and then, when he thought you weren’t looking, you’d catch glimpses of someone different beneath all those walls he’d built around himself.

Like the night you came back from the library carrying way too many books and nearly dropped all of them in the lobby.

Peter had somehow appeared out of nowhere. “Whoa, here.”

Before you could protest, he’d already grabbed half the stack from your arms.

“Thanks.”

“You know they make backpacks for a reason, right?”

You scoffed. “I have a backpack.”

Peter looked down at the single notebook sticking out of it.

“That’s impressive.”

“Oh, don’t judge me, Parker.”

“I’m not judging.”

“You absolutely are.”

“I’m silently criticizing your organizational skills.”

You laughed, pressing the elevator button. “Wow. So you can talk.”

Peter looked away, unsuccessfully hiding his smile.

The elevator doors opened.

As the two of you stepped inside, you glanced at him. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

“What wasn’t?”

“Having a conversation.”

Peter leaned his head against the elevator wall, looking exhausted. “You make it sound easier than it is.”

The elevator stopped. Peter handed your books back.

“Thanks,” you said softly.

“Anytime.”

You hesitated before speaking again. “Hey, um… if you ever need anything…”

Peter looked up.

“I mean, we’re neighbors, right? So… sugar, coffee, someone to complain about school to—”

He smiled, smaller this time. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You grinned. “Good.”

“I’ll see you around,” he said.

~~~~~

He wasn’t even supposed to be here, but Peter found himself standing across from Ned on the subway.

Ned was carrying two bags filled with drinks and snacks, occasionally checking his phone and smiling to himself. Peter had spotted him by complete accident, and before he could stop himself, he’d followed him onto the train.

He knew it was stupid.

Four years had passed since Doctor Strange’s spell. Four years since the world had forgotten Peter Parker.

And yet, here he was, trailing his former best friend through New York like some creep who couldn’t let go of the past.

Unfortunately, Peter couldn’t. Not when that past was all he had left.

The train finally came to a stop, and Peter followed Ned from a distance as he made his way toward an apartment building in Brooklyn. By the time Peter reached the top floor, music and laughter were already spilling out into the hallway.

A party.

Peter stood outside the door for a moment, staring at the crowd inside. He should leave.

He really, really should leave.

Instead, he gripped the bouquet of flowers that he’d bought as an excuse tightly.

“Housewarming gift,” he muttered to himself, staring at the bouquet. “Totally normal.”

He entered the room, blending in easily amongst the crowd of people he’d never seen before.

The apartment was filled with people, conversations overlapping with music coming from the speakers in the corner. It felt warm and alive in a way that Peter’s own apartment hadn’t felt in years.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it.

Pinned to the wall beside a room was an entire collection of newspaper clippings, blurry photos, and handwritten notes—all centered around Spider-Man.

Peter slowly walked closer.

Pictures from different sightings. Articles about unexplained events around the city. Strings connecting random details that shouldn’t have made sense to anyone else.

And yet his former best friend had put them together.

“You believe in all this stuff too?”

Peter turned around to find Ned standing beside him, holding a drink.

Peter looked back at the wall. “Oh, hey. You made all of this?”

Ned shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s weird, but ever since I was a kid, I’ve always felt like… I don’t know, like Spider-Man means something to me.”

Peter felt his chest tighten.

Ned laughed awkwardly. “Sounds crazy, right?”

“No,” Peter replied quietly. “Not crazy.”

For a brief moment, Peter allowed himself to imagine what life would’ve been like if things had been different. If the spell had never happened. If he could’ve stood beside Ned and laughed about all of this instead of pretending to be a stranger.

But reality had a way of pulling him back.

Across the room, Peter spotted MJ walking towards them. For a moment, it almost felt like nothing had changed.

Peter watched her slowly, holding out the bouquet. “Housewarming flowers.”

MJ blinked in surprise before taking them from his hands. “Oh, wow. Thanks.”

“Yeah. No problem.”

“Do you two know each other or…?” MJ’s brows furrowed, eyeing Peter and Ned.

Peter chuckled nervously. “Oh, uhm. Not exactly. I’m Mayne—Maynard.”

“Nice to meet you, Maynard. I’m gonna put these in water.” She smiled politely, thanked him again, and disappeared into the kitchen to put the flowers in water.

Peter watched her go.

Then he saw him.

A guy standing beside the sink, smiling as MJ walked over to him. She nudged his shoulder playfully, and the guy wrapped an arm around her waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Peter immediately looked away.

He had spent four years telling himself that he’d made the right choice. That letting them go had been worth it because they were safe.

But standing in the middle of that apartment, surrounded by people who used to know him, Peter couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d truly let them go—or if he’d simply been left behind.

Suddenly, the room felt too small. Too loud.

Without saying goodbye to anyone, Peter quickly slipped out of the apartment and made his way back onto the streets of New York.

The city was alive around him—cars honking, people laughing, music pouring from open windows—but Peter barely registered any of it. His mind was still back in that apartment, replaying every smile, every laugh, every reminder of the life he’d lost.

He leaped across buildings. By the time he reached his neighborhood, the pain in his wrist had started again.

At first, it was only a dull ache. Then it spread up his arm like fire.

Peter stopped abruptly, grabbing onto the nearest wall as he hissed through clenched teeth.

“Not now,” he muttered.

The pain only grew worse.

He pulled his sleeve back just enough to see the distended veins on his wrists.

His breathing quickened.

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Panicking, Peter rushed toward his apartment building, nearly tripping over his own feet as he fumbled for his keys. The pain had become unbearable by the time he stumbled through his front door.

On the other side of the wall, you were sitting at your desk, absentmindedly reading through your notes when you heard something crash.

At first, you ignored it.

Peter was a strange guy. For all you knew, he’d dropped a lamp.

Then came another noise.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you pulled your headphones off. “Peter?”

You were just about to put your headphones back on when a scream echoed through the wall.

Not the kind of scream someone lets out after stubbing their toe.

A scream of pain.

You shot up from your chair so fast that it nearly toppled over.

For a moment, you stood frozen in the middle of your apartment, trying to convince yourself that you’d imagined it.

Then you heard it again.

Without another thought, you ran for the door. You didn’t even bother putting on your shoes.

The scream echoed through the hallway again, louder this time, and whatever hesitation you had vanished the moment you reached Peter’s door.

“Peter?!”

You knocked once.

No answer.

“Peter, are you okay?!”

Silence.

You pressed your ear against the door, trying to make sense of the sounds coming from the other side. Something crashed into a wall, followed by what sounded like muffled groaning.

Your heart dropped.

You grabbed the doorknob, fully expecting it to be locked. Instead, the door swung open.

The first thing that hit you was the mess.

Peter’s apartment, which you’d never actually seen before, looked like a tornado had torn through it. Papers were scattered across the floor, tools and wires hung from the ceiling, and pieces of machinery sat abandoned on tables in the corner. It was nothing like you had imagined.

And then there were the webs.

They stretched across the walls, clinging to lamps and cabinets, covering entire sections of the room as though a giant spider had made the apartment its nest.

You stopped in the doorway, unable to process what you were looking at. “What the hell…?”

Another groan pulled your attention toward the living room.

“Peter?”

You rushed forward, carefully stepping over broken pieces of metal and strands of webbing stuck to the floor. It wasn’t until you rounded the corner that you finally saw him.

Peter was collapsed beside the couch, one hand gripping his wrist so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. His breathing was uneven, and more strands of webbing slowly releasing from his arm.

For a few seconds, you simply stood there, frozen.

Nothing about this made sense.

The webs. The machines. The strange red-and-blue fabric crumpled beside the couch.

Your eyes darted back to the fabric.

A mask. A Spider-Man mask.

You stared at it, then back at Peter, then back at the mask again.

Your brain was trying to connect the dots.

There was absolutely no way.

And yet, as you looked around the apartment, surrounded by webs and gadgets and the unmistakable suit lying only a few feet away, there was no other explanation.

“Oh my god.”

Peter shifted slightly at the sound of your voice. His eyes slowly opened, unfocused at first before eventually landing on you. For a split second, confusion crossed his face.

Then came realization.

You watched the panic wash over him almost instantly.

“Y/n—” His voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

You immediately knelt beside him. “Peter, what is happening? Are you hurt? Do I need to call someone?”

“No.” The answer came too quickly. “No, don’t—don’t call anyone.”

“Peter, you’re literally lying on the floor!”

“I said don’t call anyone.” The harshness in his voice caught both of you off guard.

Peter shut his eyes, taking a shaky breath as if he regretted snapping at you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Just… don’t.”

You looked down at the hand clutching his wrist.

Your gaze drifted toward the mask again. The bruises that always seemed to appear out of nowhere. The nights he came home at impossible hours. The way he always looked exhausted.

Every weird thing about Peter suddenly made perfect sense.

Your mouth went dry. “Peter…”

He already knew what you were about to ask. You could see it in his expression. He turned his head away, staring blankly at the ceiling.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

“You’re Spider-Man?”

Peter didn’t answer. He didn’t deny it either.

The silence was answer enough. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Despite everything, Peter actually let out a weak laugh.

It lasted all of two seconds before another wave of pain shot through his arm. He doubled over, gripping his wrist again.

“Peter—”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re obviously not okay!”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You’re covered in webs!”

Peter opened his mouth as if he wanted to argue, but whatever he was about to say never came out. Instead, his eyes fluttered shut.

“Peter?”

No response.

“Peter!”

You grabbed his shoulder, shaking him gently.

Nothing.

Your eyes widened. “Hey, don’t do this right now.”

You glanced around the apartment, completely lost. You had absolutely no idea what the hell you were supposed to do in this situation.

Normal people didn’t have emergency plans for when their neighbor turned out to be Spider-Man and passed out on the floor.

After a few moments of panicking, you managed to drag a blanket off the couch and awkwardly pull it over him. It wasn’t much, but it was better than leaving him on the cold floor.

Then, after what felt like ten straight minutes of struggling, you somehow managed to move him onto the couch.

By the time you collapsed into the armchair across from him, you were exhausted.

You glanced over at him again, watching his chest rise and fall.

“You’re seriously Spider-Man,” you whispered to yourself. Within minutes, exhaustion finally caught up with you too.

The armchair wasn’t comfortable in the slightest, but after the night you’d just had, you didn’t really care.

As sleep slowly overtook you, one last thought crossed your mind.

Tomorrow morning was going to be a disaster.

~~~~~

The first thing Peter noticed when he woke up was that his wrist didn’t hurt anymore.

For a few blissful seconds, he simply lay there, staring at the unfamiliar angle of his living room ceiling, too exhausted to think about why he was on the couch instead of his bed. Then, slowly, the events of the night before came rushing back to him.

Peter shot upright so fast that he nearly fell off the couch.

His eyes darted around the room in a panic. The apartment was still covered in webs. His suit was laying openly on his working table. One of his web-shooters was dangling from a lamp.

And there you were. Curled up in the armchair across from him, your head resting against the side cushion, you were still asleep.

Peter stared at you in horror. You were actually here. In his apartment.

After everything you’d seen.

“Okay,” he whispered to himself, dragging both hands down his face. “Okay, okay, okay…”

He stood up from the couch and immediately got a strand of web stuck to his hoodie.

“Seriously?” The frustration in his voice was apparently enough to wake you.

Your eyes slowly fluttered open, and for a moment, you simply blinked at the room around you, still half-asleep.

Then you saw Peter standing in the middle of the apartment, trying to untangle himself from his own webs.

You sat up so quickly that Peter froze. He looked like he’d rather jump out the window than have this conversation. You honestly weren’t doing much better.

“You’re awake,” you finally said.

Peter glanced down at the floor. “Yeah.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

An awkward silence settled between the two of you.

You looked around the apartment. In the daylight, the whole place somehow looked even more ridiculous. You looked back at Peter.

He was still avoiding your eyes.

“So…” you began carefully.

Peter visibly tensed. “So?”

You gestured vaguely to literally everything around you.

“Do you maybe want to explain…” You paused, looking up at the web-covered ceiling. “…all of this?”

Peter let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like defeat. “You weren’t supposed to see this.”

You blinked. “Peter, you passed out on your living room floor.”

“I know.”

“You were screaming.”

“I know.”

“There are webs on your refrigerator.”

“I know.”

You stared at him for a moment before letting out an incredulous laugh. “Okay, wow. We’re really glossing over the fact that you’re Spider-Man, huh?”

Peter finally looked up.

The panic in his expression from the night before was gone, replaced by something quieter. “I was kind of hoping you’d think you imagined it.”

You snorted. “Yeah, because giant spider webs covering your apartment are a perfectly normal hallucination.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Peter’s mouth despite himself.

You studied him for a moment, suddenly realizing that he looked exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with lack of sleep. The dark circles under his eyes were still there, and now that you thought about it, so was the same expression you’d seen on his face every time he stepped into the elevator.

You leaned back against the chair. “You’re Spider-Man.”

Peter swallowed. “Yeah.”

It was the first time he’d admitted it out loud in years.

“You know,” you said, “this actually explains a lot.”

Peter frowned. “Like what?”

“The bruises.”

“I walk into things.”

“You absolutely do not walk into things.”

“I could.”

“Peter, normal people don’t come home at dawn with cuts on their face.”

Peter shrugged. “New York is weird.”

You stared at him. “Did Spider-Man just try to convince me that New York is weird?”

“I think Spider-Man would know.” He hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure how to continue. “Listen, you can’t tell anyone about this.”

You blinked. “Who exactly am I supposed to tell? ‘Hey, guys, by the way, my neighbor is secretly Spider-Man’? People would think I’ve lost my mind.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“No, Y/n, I—”

“You really think I’d tell someone?”

Peter opened his mouth, but no words came out.

You sighed, standing up from the chair.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on with…” You gestured toward his wrist. “Whatever happened last night. And I definitely don’t understand why your apartment looks like a spider nest. But I’m not going to tell anyone.”

Peter looked unconvinced.

You crossed your arms. “Besides, keeping secrets apparently isn’t exactly new territory for us.”

That made him pause.

You immediately regretted saying it.

Peter seemed to understand exactly what you meant because he quietly looked away. “I’m sorry.”

The words caught you off guard. “What?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, staring at the floor.

“For lying.”

You frowned. “You didn’t really lie.”

“I kind of did.”

“You just left out the part where you spend your nights swinging around New York.”

Peter let out a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Yeah.”

You hesitated before speaking again. “Can I ask you something?”

He looked up.

“Why do you always push people away?”

The question slipped out before you could stop it. Immediately, you wanted to take it back.

Peter froze. “Y/n—”

“No, no, forget I asked that. You don’t have to answer.”

Peter stayed quiet for a long moment. Then, almost too quietly, he said, “It’s safer that way.”

You frowned. “Safer for who?”

Peter didn’t answer. Instead, he glanced toward the window, his expression distant.

You opened your mouth to ask another question, but Peter suddenly stood up. “I should clean this up.”

You looked up at the ceiling.

“Yeah, I was actually wondering how you planned on explaining the fact that your entire apartment looks like an outdated Halloween decoration.”

Peter laughed under his breath, shaking his head.

You smiled, relieved that the tension had eased, if only a little.

As you made your way toward the front door, you stopped and turned back around. “Hey, Peter?”

He looked up from the mess of webs tangled around his coffee table. “Yeah?”

You hesitated for a moment before saying, “For what it’s worth, knowing that you’re Spider-Man doesn’t really change anything.”

Peter stared at you.

You shrugged. “You’re still the weird guy who lives next door.”

For the first time that morning, Peter smiled.

“Wow,” he said. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” You grinned, opening the door. “And maybe next time you decide to pass out dramatically, try not to do it alone.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but you caught the smile he was trying to hide. “Noted.”

You nodded once before stepping into the hallway.

~~~~~

The next few days were, without a doubt, the weirdest days of your life.

Not because you had assignments piling up or because you had somehow managed to survive on instant noodles and iced coffee for three consecutive days. No, the weirdest part was that your next-door neighbor—the same guy who once spent an entire elevator ride pretending to be fascinated by the floor numbers to avoid small talk—was Spider-Man.

You had barely stepped out of your apartment when Peter’s door swung open at the exact same moment. The two of you froze, staring at each other from opposite ends of the hallway.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey.”

An awkward silence followed.

Usually, this was the part where you’d ask him about his day and he’d mumble something before disappearing into the elevator. But things were different now. You knew why he came home at impossible hours. You knew why he always had bruises on his knuckles and dark circles under his eyes.

“So…” you began, falling into step beside him as the two of you walked toward the elevator. “Did you get all the webs cleaned up?”

Peter glanced at you, horrified. “You said you weren’t going to bring that up.”

“I said no such thing.”

“You absolutely implied it.”

The elevator doors opened, and you stepped inside together.

“I’m just saying, if I found out my neighbor was secretly Spider-Man and then immediately discovered that his apartment looked like a spider’s house, I’d be a little disappointed.”

Peter let out an exasperated sigh. “Please never call it that again.”

“No promises.”

The elevator doors opened on the ground floor, and the two of you stepped out into the lobby.

“Well,” you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder, “good luck saving New York today.”

Peter nearly tripped over his own feet.

You stared at him. “Did Spider-Man just almost fall because of a joke?”

“I didn’t almost fall.”

“You absolutely almost fell.”

“I stepped weird.” Peter rolled his eyes, though you could see the faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You know, you’re surprisingly annoying.”

“Thank you. I’ve worked very hard to achieve that.”

“I can tell.”

You grinned triumphantly. “See? That was practically a compliment.”

“It wasn’t.”

“It definitely was.”

Peter shook his head, muttering something under his breath as the two of you stepped outside. The morning air was cold, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, just as you were about to head in the opposite direction, you heard Peter clear his throat.

“Hey, Y/n?”

You turned around. “Yeah?”

Peter shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, staring at the sidewalk. “I just…” He paused, struggling to find the words. “Thanks. For not freaking out.”

You blinked.

“Peter, I did freak out.”

Peter laughed softly. “You did.”

Your smile softened. “You know, you don’t always have to deal with things by yourself.”

The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

Peter’s expression changed almost instantly.

You wanted to push further. You wanted to ask him why he always looked so sad whenever he thought nobody was paying attention, why he insisted on carrying everything alone, why he acted like letting people get close to him was the worst thing in the world.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

~~~~~

For the next week, things settled into something that neither of you knew how to define.

You still ran into each other in the hallway before you left for class. Peter still came home at absurd hours with new bruises that he insisted were “nothing.” You still made fun of him for having the social skills of a brick wall.

The only difference was that now, whenever he disappeared halfway through a conversation or showed up looking like he’d just fought for his life, you actually knew why.

Well, partially.

Because despite the fact that you’d discovered his biggest secret, Peter Parker was still, somehow, the most secretive person you had ever met.

It was almost midnight when you found him sitting on the fire escape outside your apartment building.

You had just gotten back from the cafe after spending six straight hours pretending to understand a lecture that absolutely nobody understood, and the only thing on your mind was sleep.

That was, until you looked up and saw Peter sitting one floor above you, elbows resting on his knees.

For a moment, you considered pretending you hadn’t seen him.

Then again, this was Peter. If you didn’t start the conversation, there was a ninety-percent chance that he’d sit there in silence for another hour before disappearing back into his apartment.

“Please tell me you’re not brooding up there.”

Peter looked down, startled. “I’m not brooding.”

You crossed your arms. “You’re sitting alone on a fire escape in the middle of the night, staring dramatically into the distance.”

“I’m just thinking.”

“That’s exactly what a person who’s brooding would say.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but you caught the smile that flashed across his face.

“You coming up or are you just going to insult me from down there?”

You blinked. “Was that an invitation?”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“Oh, it’s already weird.”

He laughed quietly, shaking his head as you climbed up the stairs and sat beside him.

For a few minutes, neither of you spoke.

Below, New York buzzed with life. Cars moved through the streets, people spilled out of restaurants, and somewhere in the distance, a siren echoed through the city.

You leaned back against the brick wall behind you.

“I used to think New York would feel bigger.”

Peter frowned. “Bigger?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “Before I moved here, I thought it’d be this huge, exciting place where I’d constantly be meeting people and doing cool things.”

“And?”

You let out a laugh. “And now I spend most of my nights crying over assignments and eating instant noodles.”

Peter snorted. “Sounds about right.”

You nudged his shoulder. “I’m serious.”

“I know.”

You stared out at the city lights. “I don’t know. I guess I just thought it’d be easier.”

Peter was quiet for a moment. “Easier to do what?”

“To be alone.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them. You immediately looked away, embarrassed by how honest you’d just been.

“That sounded sadder than I meant it to.”

Peter didn’t laugh.

Instead, he looked down at his hands, almost like he was thinking about whether or not to say something. “You get used to it.”

You turned toward him. “Being alone?”

He nodded.

“No offense, Parker, but you don’t exactly sound convincing.”

That earned a small smile from him, but it disappeared almost immediately.

“You don’t get used to it,” he admitted quietly. “You just learn how to deal with it.”

The way he said it made your chest ache. “Is that why you push people away?”

Peter let out a breath, his eyes fixed on the street below.

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

He was silent for so long that you thought he wasn’t going to answer. “Have you ever made a decision that you knew was right, but you hated yourself for it anyway?”

You frowned.

Peter laughed bitterly to himself. “Forget it. That’s a stupid question.”

“No, it’s not.”

He glanced at you, surprised by how quickly you’d answered.

You shifted slightly, pulling your knees closer to your chest. “I think people do that all the time.”

Peter looked away again. “Yeah. Maybe.”

You weren’t sure what came over you, but before you could stop yourself, you asked, “Did it have something to do with someone?”

The question hung in the air between you.

Peter froze. And immediately, you regretted asking.

“You don’t have to answer that,” you said quickly. “Sorry, that was way too personal—”

“It did.”

Your voice caught in your throat.

Peter wasn’t looking at you anymore. His eyes were fixed somewhere beyond the skyline, somewhere far away.

“Her name’s MJ. We used to be… close.”

The understatement almost made you laugh. “Close?”

He smiled sadly. “Yeah. She’s very special to me.”

You didn’t push. You could tell just from the way he was speaking, that this wasn’t a story he told often.

“There was this guy too,” he continued. “Ned. My best friend.”

Then Peter leaned back against the wall, staring up at the sky.

“A few years ago, something happened. Something really bad. And the only way to fix it was…” He stopped, swallowing hard. “The only way to fix it was to make everyone forget who Peter Parker was.”

You stared at him.

“What?”

He laughed quietly, but there was no humor in it.

“Yeah. Crazy, right?”

You didn’t know what to say.

Because suddenly, everything made sense.

“Wait.” You turned toward him. “You mean they literally don’t remember you?”

Peter shook his head. “No.”

“Not even MJ and Ned?”

“No.”

You stared at him, completely speechless. “Peter…”

He shrugged, like he was talking about the weather instead of the most heartbreaking thing you’d ever heard.

“It was my choice.”

“But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”

The words escaped before you could think twice.

Peter’s expression softened. Then he let out a quiet laugh and shook his head. “You’re the first person who’s said that.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s always about how I saved the world or how I did the right thing.” He looked down at his hands. “Nobody ever talks about what it cost.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard. For the first time, you understood.

Peter Parker hadn’t isolated himself because he wanted to. He’d isolated himself because he genuinely believed that loving people meant losing them.

You reached over and gently nudged his shoulder.

“Well, I think what you did was incredibly selfless.”

Peter smiled weakly. “Thanks.”

“But I also think you’re an idiot.”

He turned to you so fast that you almost laughed. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Wow. Harsh.”

“I’m serious.” You sat up straighter. “You keep acting like the solution to everything is to shut people out.”

“Because people get hurt.”

“People get hurt regardless, Peter.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you didn’t let him.

“You think pushing everyone away protects them, but all it’s doing is making you miserable.”

Peter stared at you.

“And before you say anything, yes, I know that’s hypocritical coming from the girl who spent the first three months in New York eating canned goods alone in her apartment.”

That got a laugh out of him.

“I’m serious, though.” You smiled softly.

The two of you sat there for what felt like forever, the noise of the city filling the silence between you.

“You know, when we first met, I thought you were way too friendly.”

You gasped dramatically. “Way too friendly?”

“You kept talking to me in the elevator.”

“God forbid someone tries to have a conversation with their neighbor.”

“I thought there had to be some ulterior motive.”

You laughed. “And now?”

Peter looked at you. “Now I think you just hate awkward silences.”

You smiled. “You’re half right.”

“And the other half?”

You hesitated before answering. “I saw someone who looked lonely.”

Peter’s expression changed instantly. The teasing smile disappeared, replaced by something softer.

Because the truth was, you’d been right all along.

He was lonely.

You simply sat beside each other, watching the lights of New York flicker in the distance. Somewhere below, taxis disappeared into traffic, distant sirens echoed through the streets, and the summer air carried the sound of laughter from people walking home.

For the first time in a long time, Peter didn’t feel like he was carrying the weight of the city by himself.

Beside him, you absentmindedly rested your chin on your knees, staring out at the skyline.

“Do you ever stop thinking?” you asked quietly.

Peter let out a small laugh. “Not really.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It is.”

You smiled sympathetically. “Well, I think you deserve a break every once in a while. Fighting off bad people every other day isn’t healthy.”

Peter glanced over at you, about to make some self-deprecating joke, when suddenly, something felt… wrong.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. His expression immediately changed.

You frowned. “Peter?”

He didn’t answer.

His eyes darted toward the street below, instinct taking over before his mind could catch up. There was no obvious danger—just passing cars, people crossing the road, cyclists weaving through traffic.

And yet, every nerve in his body was screaming at him that someone was watching.

“Peter?” You followed his gaze, confused as he abruptly stood from the fire escape. “What is it?”

“I…” Peter scanned the street, his heartbeat picking up. “I don’t know.”

Down below, parked across the street, a dark car sat between two taxis. Through the windshield, he could barely make out the silhouette of someone sitting in the back seat, their face hidden by the reflection of the city lights.

For a split second, Peter thought he saw the figure turn toward him.

Then the engine started. The car pulled away from the curb, disappearing into the traffic before Peter could get a better look.

He remained frozen, staring after it.

“Did you see someone?” you asked, standing beside him.

Peter hesitated. “I think so.”

“You think so?”

He shook his head, frustration creeping into his voice. “I don’t know. It just felt like…” He stopped himself.

Like someone had been watching him.

You glanced down at the now-empty street before looking back at Peter.

“Maybe it’s just your superhero paranoia.”

Peter let out a breathless laugh, though the uneasy feeling in his chest refused to disappear.

“Yeah,” he muttered, still staring into the distance. “Maybe.”

~~~~~

It was barely nine in the morning when you opened your apartment door and nearly ran face-first into him.

Peter stumbled backward, a paper bag clutched awkwardly in his hands. “Oh—sorry.”

You blinked. “Are you just permanently stationed outside my apartment now, or…?”

“What? No.” Peter looked genuinely horrified. “I was just—I wasn’t—”

You crossed your arms, trying to suppress a smile as he completely lost the ability to form coherent sentences. “Relax, Parker. I’m kidding.”

He let out a relieved sigh. “You really need to stop doing that.”

“And deprive myself of the joy of watching Spider-Man panic? Absolutely not.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

Only then did you notice the coffee cup sticking out of the paper bag. You narrowed your eyes.

“…Is that coffee?”

Peter immediately looked down at the bag as if he’d forgotten he was holding it in the first place. “Uh, yeah.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And why are you standing outside my apartment at nine in the morning holding coffee?”

Peter stared at you for a few seconds, clearly debating whether or not he could still escape this conversation.

“I, uh…” He scratched the back of his neck. “You said you had an exam today.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “You know that?”

The second the words left your mouth, Peter looked like he regretted everything. “I just—I overheard you talking on the phone in the hallway last night.”

“Oh, so you’re spying on me.”

“I’m not! I have heightened senses, you know?”

You laughed, reaching for the coffee he was still awkwardly holding hostage. “Well, thank you.”

He shrugged, suddenly fascinated by the floor. “I figured you’d need it.”

You looked down at the cup before glancing back up at him. “Okay, this is actually really sweet.”

Peter almost choked. “What?”

“I’m complimenting you.”

“You’ve spent the last week bullying me.”

“I tease you because it’s funny. Completely different.”

Peter shook his head, mumbling something under his breath as he started walking toward the elevator.

You immediately followed him. “Oh, no. You don’t get to do something nice and then escape before I properly thank you.”

“Pretty sure I do.”

“You absolutely do not.”

The elevator doors opened, and the two of you stepped inside.

“Did you sleep at all?”

Peter leaned against the wall. “A little.”

“Yeah, right.”

“What?”

“That’s a lie.”

He glanced over at you. “How would you know?”

“Because you look like you fought a bear.”

“You’re judgemental.”

“Answer the question.”

Peter sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “There was some stuff going on downtown.”

“Some stuff?”

“Yeah.”

You stared at him. “You’re literally Spider-Man. ‘Some stuff’ could mean anything from stopping a robbery to fighting an alien invasion.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s only happened once.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Twice, maybe.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I can’t believe this is my life now.”

“Imagine how I feel.”

The elevator doors slid open, and the two of you stepped into the lobby.

Outside, New York was already awake. People hurried down the sidewalks, taxis filled the streets, and somewhere in the distance, someone was yelling at a delivery truck.

You took a sip of your coffee. “Okay, serious question.”

Peter looked over.

“How do you balance all of this?”

He frowned. “Balance what?”

“You know…” You gestured vaguely. “Spider-Man stuff. Life.”

Peter laughed softly. “I don’t.”

“No, seriously.”

“I am serious.”

You stopped walking. “What do you mean, you don’t?”

Peter shoved his hands into his pockets. “I mean exactly what I said.”

For the first time that morning, the teasing tone disappeared from his voice.

“Half the time, I’m in front of my desk, fixing my suit. The other half, I’m too exhausted to focus on anything.” He shrugged. “I’ve kind of accepted that I’m bad at balancing things.”

You frowned. “That’s not healthy.”

Peter opened his mouth, prepared with another joke, but stopped when he noticed the look on your face.

You were actually worried.

Peter looked away first.

“You know,” you said softly, “you’re allowed to take care of yourself too.”

He let out a quiet laugh.

“Funny. You sound exactly like my aunt May.”

The moment the words left his mouth, his expression changed. The smile disappeared.

“Oh.” Your voice softened. “Peter…”

“It’s okay.”

You weren’t sure whether to say something or pretend that the conversation hadn’t just shifted into dangerous territory.

Before you could decide, Peter shook his head and forced a smile. “Anyway, good luck on your exam.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Nice try.”

“What?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Am I?”

“Very obviously.”

Peter laughed, stepping backward onto the sidewalk. “Seriously, though. Good luck.”

You stared at him for a moment before sighing in defeat.

“Fine. But this conversation isn’t over.”

Peter smiled. “We’ll see.”

You pointed at him accusingly. “No, don’t ‘we’ll see’ me, Parker.”

He laughed and started walking backward down the street. “Go ace your exam, sweetheart.”

The second the nickname left his mouth, both of you froze.

Peter looked just as surprised as you did.

Your eyes widened. “Did you just call me sweetheart?”

Peter stopped walking. “I—”

“You did!”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You absolutely did!”

He buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god.”

You couldn’t stop smiling. “Oh, this is never leaving my memory.”

“Can we all agree to pretend that never happened?”

“Absolutely not.”

Peter groaned as you laughed, continuing your walk toward campus.

He shook his head, turning to leave in the opposite direction, but even from several feet away, you could still see the embarrassed smile on his face.

~~~~~

You tried not to think too much as you walked home from campus that evening, convincing yourself that he was probably just busy with superhero things. It wasn’t unusual for him to vanish for hours at a time.

Still, there was an uneasy feeling in your chest that you couldn’t explain.

By the time you reached your apartment building, the sun had already disappeared behind the skyline, painting New York in shades of orange and blue. You stepped into the lobby, fishing your keys out of your bag and nearly jumped when you saw Peter standing completely still in front of the elevators.

“Jesus Christ, Parker.”

He turned around so quickly that you almost took a step back.

For a moment, he just stared at you.

“Peter?”

He blinked a few times, as if he were forcing himself back into reality.

“Oh. Hey.”

You frowned.

“Hey? That’s all you have to say after ignoring me all day?”

“I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“Peter, I sent you three texts.”

“You sent me three memes.”

“They were funny memes.”

Peter let out a distracted laugh, but something was off.

He looked more exhausted than usual. His hoodie was damp from the rain, his hair was a mess, and there was a fresh cut just above his eyebrow.

You immediately noticed. “You’re hurt.”

“What? No.”

“You literally have blood on your face.”

Peter instinctively touched his eyebrow before dropping his hand. “It’s nothing.”

You crossed your arms. “You know, for someone whose entire job is saving people, you’re really bad at taking care of yourself.”

Peter looked away, jaw tightening.

The elevator doors opened with a ding, but neither of you moved.

“Peter?”

He swallowed hard before finally speaking. “Have you ever felt like someone’s watching you?”

The question caught you off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “For the past few days, everywhere I go, I keep feeling like there’s…” He hesitated. “Like there’s someone there.”

You frowned. “Someone following you?”

“Maybe.”

“Have you actually seen anyone?”

Peter thought back to the fire escape. To the dark car disappearing into traffic before he could get a good look at it.

“Not really.”

You stepped a little closer, lowering your voice. “Peter, are you sure you’re okay?”

He opened his mouth to answer—

“Behind you.”

The voice wasn’t yours.

Peter froze.

His head snapped toward the lobby entrance, but there was nobody there except an elderly man struggling with grocery bags.

“What?” you asked.

Peter stared at the doors, his heartbeat suddenly pounding in his ears.

The old man looked up.

“You’re easier to find than you think, Peter.”

Peter’s blood ran cold. The voice wasn’t the old man’s. It was someone else’s, speaking through him.

The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by confusion as the man adjusted his glasses and continued walking.

“Peter?”

He turned back toward you, panic flashing across his face.

“Did you hear that?”

You blinked. “Hear what?”

Before Peter could answer, a woman stepped into the lobby, talking on the phone as she walked past the two of you.

“Everyone has a weakness.”

Peter stiffened.

The woman stopped walking.

Slowly, she turned her head toward him. “You know that better than anyone.”

The air left Peter’s lungs. “What the hell…”

“Peter?” You grabbed his arm. “What’s wrong?”

He couldn’t answer. Because now, all around the lobby, people had started looking at him.

One by one, they turned toward him.

And they all smiled.

“You lost your aunt.”

“You lost your friends.”

“You lost the girl you loved.”

The voices overlapped, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Peter stumbled backward, his breathing becoming uneven.

“You found someone new.”

Peter’s eyes immediately darted toward you.

“So that’s why you’ve been smiling lately.”

Your grip on his arm tightened. “Peter, you’re scaring me.”

Instantly, every face in the lobby returned to normal.

Peter stood frozen in the middle of the lobby, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Peter, talk to me.”

He looked at you, but it was obvious that he wasn’t really seeing you. His mind was somewhere else, replaying the words over and over again.

You found someone new.

“No,” he whispered, more to himself than to you.

“What?”

Peter grabbed your wrist.

The sudden movement startled you.

“You can’t stay here tonight.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Pack a bag.”

“Peter, slow down—”

“I’m serious.”

“What’s going on?”

He looked around the lobby one last time, searching for any sign that whoever had done this was still watching.

“I think someone’s trying to get to me.”

You stared at him.

“And I think…” His voice cracked slightly as he looked back at you. “I think they know about you.”

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then you shook your head. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Neither do I.”

Peter finally had something left to lose again.

And whoever was out there had just figured that out.

~~~~~

By the time Peter finally explained what was happening, the two of you were already halfway across New York.

Well “explained” was a generous term.

According to Peter, there was someone out there who could somehow speak through other people, someone who had spent the last few days following him, taunting him, and apparently taking a concerning interest in the fact that he’d started spending time with you.

According to you, that sounded completely insane. “You realize how crazy this sounds, right?”

Peter tightened his grip on the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Trust me, I know.”

“No, because from my perspective, I went from studying for finals to being shoved into a car by Spider-Man because some random woman might be stalking us.”

“I’m not shoving you anywhere.”

“You practically dragged me out of the apartment.”

“You had, like, five minutes to pack.”

“Exactly.”

Peter let out an exhausted sigh.

The city lights reflected against the windshield as silence settled between you for a moment. You glanced over at him, finally getting a good look at his expression.

He looked terrified.

You looked away, staring out the window. “Who is she?”

Peter hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know her name?”

“I don’t know anything.”

“You’re Spider-Man.”

“Yeah, and believe it or not, I don’t actually know every single person in New York.”

You rolled your eyes, but the joke barely landed. It was obvious that his mind was somewhere else entirely.

The city slowly disappeared behind you, replaced by quieter streets and the dark outline of the harbor. After another few minutes, Peter pulled into a small dock.

You stepped out of the car and immediately froze.

Floating a few feet away from the pier was what looked like a tiny house sitting on top of a boat.

“Where are we?”

“It’s safer than the apartment.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Peter ignored you, already walking toward the dock.

“Peter!”

“I’m serious, Y/n.”

You quietly followed him down the dock.

The house itself was small, warm lights spilling out from the windows onto the water. Peter knocked twice before the door swung open, revealing a man who looked like he’d been expecting him.

The man’s eyes immediately landed on you. Then they shifted back to Peter.

“…You brought company.”

Peter sighed. “Frank, not now.”

“Oh, it’s definitely now.”

“Frank.”

You watched as Frank crossed his arms, trying to suppress an amused smile.

“So, let me get this straight.” He pointed between the two of you. “The world is apparently ending, and this is who you decided to bring to my place?”

“She’s my neighbor.”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

Peter groaned. “Can you please not do this right now?”

“I’m just asking questions.”

You bit back a laugh as Peter shot Frank the most exhausted look you’d ever seen.

Frank stepped aside, letting the two of you inside before he disappeared into the kitchen.

“So,” he called out, “you want tea? Coffee? Emotional support?”

Peter buried his face in his hands. “Please stop talking.”

“I’m sensing coffee for the kid and emotional support for Spider-Man.”

You snorted.

Peter glared at both of you.

An hour later, after Frank had finally stopped making fun of him, the three of you sat around the tiny dining table.

Well, technically, Frank was sitting.

Peter had spent the last twenty minutes pacing back and forth.

“Peter, you’re making me dizzy.”

“I’m thinking.”

“You’re stomping.”

He ignored you.

Frank looked up from his coffee. “Kid, sit down before you wear a hole through my floor.”

Peter stopped pacing, but only because his phone buzzed.

He immediately grabbed it, eyes scanning the screen.

Nothing. Just a news notification.

You watched as he exhaled, disappointed. “You’ve checked your phone seventeen times in the last ten minutes.”

Peter frowned. “No, I haven’t.”

“You absolutely have.”

Frank looked between the two of you. “You guys do realize that you’re acting like a married couple, right?”

You nearly choked on your drink.

Peter looked ready to throw himself into the ocean. “We are not acting like a married couple.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Frank.” Peter stood up so abruptly that his chair nearly fell over. “I need some air.”

Without another word, he stepped outside onto the dock.

You hesitated for a moment before quietly following him. The night air was colder now, carrying the scent of the ocean and the distant sounds of the city.

You walked up beside him, leaning against the railing.

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. Then, quietly, you asked, “How bad is it?”

Peter didn’t answer immediately. “I don’t know.”

You looked down at the dark sky in front. “You really think she want to hurt me?”

Peter’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know what she want.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

For the first time that night, Peter looked at you. The fear in his eyes caught you off guard.

“I can’t let anything happen to you.”

The words came out so quickly that it almost sounded like he’d been holding them in for hours.

You stared at him.

“I mean it.” He shook his head, frustrated with himself. “I spent years convincing myself that being alone was the only way to keep people safe, and then you came along and suddenly—”

He stopped himself.

Suddenly, he didn’t want to be alone anymore.

Suddenly, he had something to lose again.

The silence stretched between you.

You took a step closer. “Peter, look at me.”

He did.

“I’m scared too.”

His expression softened.

“But you don’t get to decide things for me.”

Peter frowned. “What?”

“You keep acting like you have to carry everyone else’s pain by yourself, like it’s your responsibility to decide who gets hurt and who doesn’t.” You shook your head. “But that’s not fair.”

“Y/n—”

“No, listen to me.” Your voice softened. “I know you’re trying to protect me. I know that. But I’m here because I chose to be here.”

Peter looked away. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

He stepped forward and gently squeezed your hand. Just for a second. Just long enough for both of you to freeze.

Peter pulled away almost immediately, looking just as shocked as you felt.

“I should go.”

And before you could respond, he turned and disappeared into the darkness, leaving you standing alone, watching the only person you’d ever trusted with your heart swing back toward a city that never stopped needing him.

~~~~~

The first thing Peter noticed was the silence.

It was wrong.

His suit was torn near the shoulder, bruises bloomed across his ribs, and every muscle in his body ached as he limped down the dock toward Frank’s home. The morning had blurred together into a mess of adrenaline and panic: tracking Jean across the city, realizing she had taken control of the Hulk, barely escaping the destruction that followed, and worse was that Jean managed to escape.

The lights inside the houseboat were still on.

Peter frowned. “Frank?”

No answer.

He climbed the last few steps and pushed the door open. “Frank, I’m back—”

The words died in his throat.

The living room was a disaster.

A chair had been knocked onto its side. One of the lamps lay shattered on the floor, glass scattered across the wood. Your backpack was gone.

And Frank was unconscious on the ground.

Peter’s heart stopped. “Frank!”

He dropped to his knees beside him, shaking his shoulder.

“Frank, hey, wake up. Come on, come on—”

Frank groaned, slowly opening his eyes. “Kid…?”

Peter let out a breath of relief, but it lasted less than a second. “Where’s Y/n?”

Frank blinked, still disoriented.

“She…” He winced, trying to sit up. “She was here.”

Peter felt the blood drain from his face. “What do you mean, ‘was here’?”

Frank looked around the room as though trying to piece everything together. “There was someone at the door. I thought it was you.”

Peter’s stomach dropped. “No.”

Frank swallowed hard. “Next thing I knew, she was acting strange. Said she had to go home.”

Peter stood up so fast that the room spun around him. “No, no, no—”

“Hey—”

“No.”

He was already reaching for his phone, hands shaking so violently that he nearly dropped it.

Twenty-three missed calls.

And then a message.

Sent ten minutes ago.

From you.

hey :) im back at the apartment. can you come over? we should talk.

Peter stared at the screen. Every instinct in his body screamed at him that something was wrong. You never used smiley faces.

Frank had managed to sit up now, watching Peter’s expression darken. “What’s going on?”

Peter was already backing toward the door. “She’s not there.”

Frank frowned. “What?”

“That’s not her.”

The realization hit him all at once.

Jean hadn’t been captured.

And while Peter had been busy trying to save the city, she’d gone after the one person he had been trying to protect.

~~~~~

The city became nothing but streaks of light as Peter swung through the night.

His breathing was ragged beneath the mask, every thought in his head collapsing into one singular fear.

You.

Every second felt like an eternity. Every red light, every building, every street corner seemed to move too slowly.

Please be okay.

He landed outside the apartment building so hard that several people on the sidewalk screamed and jumped back.

He sprinted through the lobby, ignoring the confused stares around him as he practically launched himself into the stairwell.

The elevator would take too long. By the time he reached your floor, his lungs were burning.

The hallway was empty. Your apartment door was slightly open.

Peter’s heartbeat pounded in his ears. “Y/n?”

No answer.

He stepped inside cautiously. The lights were off except for the glow of the city spilling through the windows. The apartment was silent.

“Y/n?” Then he saw you.

Standing by the window. Your back was turned toward him, your silhouette framed by the lights of the city below.

Relief crashed over him so quickly that his knees nearly gave out. “Oh my God.”

You slowly turned around.

For a brief moment, everything seemed normal.

“Peter.” The sound of your voice almost made him collapse.

He took a step forward. “Are you okay? Frank said that you left and then you texted me and I—”

“I’m okay.” Something about your tone made him stop.

It was your voice. But it didn’t sound like you.

Too empty.

Peter’s entire body tensed. “Y/n…”

“You’re worried.” You tilted your head slightly.

Peter took another cautious step. “Come away from the window.”

A smile spread across your face.

Except it wasn’t your smile.

“No.”

The room suddenly felt ten degrees colder.

Peter’s heart sank. “Jean.”

Your smile widened. “There he is.”

Peter felt sick. “Get out of her head.”

“Oh, Peter.” Jean’s voice echoed through your lips. “You’re making this far too easy.”

Peter couldn’t take his eyes off you.

You were standing much too close to the edge.

“Whatever you want, this has nothing to do with her.”

Jean laughed. “Nothing to do with her?”

Your body turned slightly, glancing out at the city below.

“You spent years convincing yourself that isolation would protect the people you love.” Jean’s voice softened. “And then she smiled at you in an elevator.”

Peter’s chest tightened. “Stop.”

“You let her in.”

“Stop talking.”

“You gave yourself something to lose.”

“Jean, stop!”

For the first time, something flickered in your expression.

For a split second, Peter saw you.

Really saw you.

Terrified. “Peter?”

The fear in your voice was unmistakably yours. Peter immediately stepped forward. “Y/n, listen to me. I’m right here.”

Your eyes darted around the room frantically. “W-what’s happening?”

Then your expression changed again.

Jean was back. And this time, she was smiling.

“Tell me, Peter.” You took a step backward. Right onto the ledge. “How many people can Spider-Man save before he finally fails?”

Peter’s blood ran cold. “No.”

“How many times can Peter Parker lose the people he loves before he breaks?”

“Jean, don’t do this.”

For the first time all night, Jean’s voice lost its mocking tone.

“I just want you to understand.” Instead, she sounded almost sad.

And then you fell.

“Y/N!”

Peter didn’t think. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t hesitate. He ran.

The window shattered behind him as he launched himself into the open air, diving after you as the city lights blurred together beneath him.

Wind roared in your ears. For a moment, there was nothing.

Then suddenly—consciousness.

You blinked. And realized you were falling.

The scream that tore from your throat was filled with pure terror. “Peter!”

You couldn’t breathe. The ground was getting closer. And then strong arms wrapped around you.

You collided against Peter’s chest as he wrapped his body around yours and shot a web into the nearest building, swinging both of you away from the street below.

You clung to him instantly, shaking so violently that you could barely form words.

“Oh my god—oh my god—”

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” Peter’s voice was panicked too.

One hand held the web. The other was wrapped so tightly around you that it almost hurt.

You buried your face against his shoulder, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“I don’t—I don’t know what happened—”

“I know.”

“I was in the boat and then—and then—”

“I know.” Peter’s voice cracked.

Because for one horrifying moment, he hadn’t known if he’d make it in time.

And as he held you against him, thirty stories above New York City, Peter Parker made himself a promise.

Whatever happened next, whatever it took, he would never let you go again.

~~~~~

The rooftop was silent except for the sound of your uneven breathing and the distant hum of New York below.

Peter still hadn’t let go of you.

Not since he’d caught you.

Not since he’d felt your fingers clutch desperately at his suit thirty stories above the ground.

You sat beside him now, shoulders pressed together, both of you staring at the skyline as the first hints of sunrise painted the clouds orange.

Neither of you knew what to say.

Because how were you supposed to act normal after something like that?

“Peter…”

He didn’t look at you. “I’m sorry.”

You frowned. “Why do you keep apologizing?”

“Because I should’ve protected you.”

“You did protect me.”

“No.” He shook his head, his voice cracking. “I was supposed to keep this from happening in the first place.”

You turned toward him. “Hey, that’s impossible.”

He laughed bitterly, staring down at his hands. “Yeah, well, I’ve spent the last four years trying to do the impossible.”

The words hung between you.

You watched him quietly, noticing the way his shoulders sagged beneath the weight of everything he carried.

“You know that’s not your fault, right?” you whispered.

Peter finally looked at you. The expression on his face almost broke your heart.

“After May… after MJ and Ned…” He swallowed hard. “I promised myself that I would never do this again.”

“Do what?”

Peter let out a shaky breath. “Care.”

You felt your heart stop.

“Because every single person I’ve ever loved…” His voice dropped to almost a whisper. “I’ve lost them somehow.”

“Peter—”

“And then you showed up.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head.

“You kept talking to me in elevators when I clearly didn’t want to talk. You kept making fun of me. You kept showing up with coffee and stupid jokes, and…” He looked at you, eyes shining in the early morning light. “Somehow, you made me forget what it felt like to be alone.”

You couldn’t speak.

“I tried to stay away from you.” He shook his head. “I really did.”

Your eyes welled with tears.

“But every time you smiled at me, every time you waited for me to come home, every time you sat next to me on that fire escape…” He laughed weakly. “It just got harder.”

The silence between you became unbearable.

And then Peter whispered the words he’d spent months trying not to feel.

“I love you.”

The world seemed to stop. Peter immediately looked away, almost like he regretted saying it.

“I know it’s selfish,” he continued quickly. “And maybe I shouldn’t have said anything because everything in my life is complicated and dangerous and honestly, I don’t even know what tomorrow looks like, but when I saw you falling—”

His voice broke.

“When I saw you falling, the only thing I could think was that I never told you.”

Peter let out a shaky breath, staring at the city because he couldn’t bear to look at your reaction.

“I love you,” he whispered again. “And that’s the scariest thing that’s happened to me in years.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then you reached for his hand.

Peter looked down, almost surprised to find your fingers intertwined with his.

“Peter Parker,” you whispered, squeezing his hand, “you are such an idiot.”

He blinked. “That’s not exactly the response I was expecting.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Because I’ve been in love with you since before I even knew you were Spider-Man.”

Peter just stared.

“You brought me coffee before my exams, sat with me when I was lonely, and somehow made me feel at home in a city that never felt like mine.” You smiled softly. “I didn’t fall in love with Spider-Man.”

You stepped a little closer.

“I fell in love with the awkward guy from the elevator.”

Peter’s eyes immediately filled with tears.

And for the first time since the spell, since May, since losing everyone he’d ever loved, Peter allowed himself to believe that maybe losing people wasn’t the only ending he deserved.

He laughed shakily, pressing his forehead against yours.

“You have terrible taste in men.”

You laughed. “I know.”

[kaiiii1009]

doctor, doctor

peter comes home injured after patrol so you fix him up

cw: mentions of blood and injury, established relationship, medical innacuracies, no bnd spoilers, fluff, kinda suggestive, no beta reader, all lowercase, pet names (sweetheart, pretty boy, handsome), i think i made it gn lmk if it's not, i think like one swear word pairing: peter parker x reader wc: 1k »→ a/n: whipped this bullshit up after i came home last night apologies for any mistakes, i have many peter drafts currently i just have to edit them... also ignore my stupid ass title

main masterlist crossposted on ao3

peter hisses through his teeth as you dabbed at a cut on his forehead, "aw shit- that stings." blood had dripped down the side of his face and you made a face at him, “stop whinging and let me clean this up” he pouted up at you, his hands sliding up your thighs from where they were resting as you settled in his lap. peter sighs and lets you clean up his wounds flinching away when you dab a particularly deep cut, “hey. be gentle-“ you stared down at him, unimpressed, “it wouldn’t hurt if you stopped getting hurt so much. you really make me worry peter.” he ran his hands gently up your sides, squeezing your hips, “i know. i know, im sorry but it’s part of the job. you know that.”

you drop your hand from his face and sigh, your gaze sliding off into the distance, “peter i know that. it doesn’t make me any less worried for you. i worry because i love you. so let me care for you right now.” you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, careful to avoid his injuries. he pulled you back before you could fully pull away, his hands threading through you hair to kiss you deeply, his tongue running over your bottom lip. you sighed dreamily into his mouth, your arms coming up round his neck and melting into the kiss.

your fingers graze over a cut on his shoulder and he winced under your touch, bring you back to reality. you gingerly extract yourself from his grip, picking up a clean bandage, “peter let me fix you up and then you can kiss me for as long as you want.” he grinned up at you, “promise?” you rolled your eyes, “promise pretty boy. now shut up and let me stitch you up.”

you went back to tending his cuts, carefully placing a plaster over his forehead cut before picking up a needle and thread, “pete i gotta stitch this one up. it’s too deep. and even with your enhanced healing…” your teeth worry at your bottom lip, a crease forming between your eyebrows as you run your thumb over the cut in his cheek. peter reaches up to smooth the crease out, kissing your palm, “do what you gotta do sweetheart.” you exhaled shakily, threading the needle with shaky hands. or attempting to anyway. peter grabbed your hand, stopping the shake before threading it for you, “i can stitch myself up if you can’t..”

you shake your head, taking the needle from him, “you’re always saving and protecting everyone else. let me do this for you. let someone else care for you for once peter.” something in his eyes changed and you saw his expression soften and he reached up to cup your face, “i love you.” you kissed his palm this time, before beginning to stitch him up.

you sat back with a heavy sigh, peters hands resting on your lower back. you picked up your last clean towel and cleaned up the blood that had leaked down his jaw before slapping about bandage on it and pressing a kiss on top. “all better. now take the suit off.” peter smirked up at you, “someone’s eager.” you deadpanned, “peter don't even. i know you’re all bruised up so let me put that bruise cream on. you know the one from the asian shop down the road.” his head dropped and he wriggled out his suit. your eyes traced down his figure, over every dip and muscle. you weren’t blind just worried. but goddamn were you lucky.

peter looked up, catching you staring and but back a smile, “isn't it unprofessional to ogle your patients, doctor?” you poke his shoulder playfully, “shut up and turn around.” he rolls his eyes slightly and obliges, shifting on your couch so his back faces you. you squeeze out some of the cream from the tube and gently apply it tot the worst of the bruises. he hissed and his back arches under your touch as you reach a particularly sensitive area. your brain lights up and you lick your bottom lip before shaking your head free of thoughts. as if sensing the way your thoughts had turned peter tittles his head back to you with a small grin. you glared at him and held up a finger, “don't.”

he shrugged and then winced, “wasn't going to say anything” you rolled your eyes and tossed a clean shirt at him from the laundry hamper on the other couch, “here. you can shower after you sleep. not risking you fall asleep mid shower. again.”

he groaned, “that was one time.”

“one time too many.”

“when are you gonna let that go sweetheart?”

“when you learn to sleep properly.”

he went to shove his head into the tshirt before deciding against it and getting up to drop a kiss to the crown of your head, “you going to join me in bed?” you looked up at him from your perch on the coffee table, “it’s 4:07am what do you think genius?” peters sighed and held out a hand for you. you have him an innocent smiles and took it letting him guide you to the bedroom, a yawn escaping you. peter yawns as well, as if triggered by you and you both snort at the synced behaviour.

the first light of day is beginning to peek through the window, making you glad that you'd bought black out blinds. peter flopped into bed while you went to pull them down, instantly drowning the room in darkness. you wandered back to the bedroom blindly falling into it. peter pulled you into his side, already stripped to his boxers as he'd left the spidey suit on your living room floor. he curled into you and tucking his head into the crook of your neck. his curls tickled you chin as you kissed the top of his head, “what happened to kissing me as much you wanted when i was done with you?” he mumbled into your collarbone, “i’ll collect them later. lemme sleep…” you snorted softly cuddling him close, careful of his wounds, “okay handsome whatever you says..”

comment or ask to be added to taglists main taglist: @sillygayfreak, @qardasngan peter parker taglist: @herdarlin, @nickbell-book

© kaiiii1009. no copying/plagiarizing/reposting/translation (etc) of my works. pls don't put my works through ai either. credits to @/pixopix for the dividers.

[imani4reading]

Every breath you take - Peter parker, imagine Spiderman following y/n everywhere, keeping her safe from any threat no matter how big or small. And her confronting(not in a bad way) him about it once she notices him

Every Breath You Take (Imani’s Mixtape Series) | Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: For some peculiar reason, Spider-Man, the masked hero seems to constantly save you from even the smallest things. When you confront him about it and ask if you know him, he insists that you don’t. But then, when you confront him about being in love with you, he doesn’t deny it.

WARNINGS: No spoilers for Brand New Day :) , Peter is low key a stalker but he means well, reader accidentally cuts her hand, mentions of blood, upside down kiss at the end!

A/N: Thank you for the request anon! Requests are currently open for Peter Parker, you can send in your own request or do the mixtape!!

WC: 2.7K

Main Masterlist!

Mixtape Series! (Only taking requests for Peter Parker right now!)

Everyone adored the renowned Spider-Man.

But you?

You found him awfully strange.

Throughout your high school years you had a vague memory of constantly being saved by the hero.

It started with the Vulture, then came Mysterio, and then you couldn’t quite make sense of it, but there was you falling off of the Statue Of Liberty.

All those memories contained some version of Spider-Man saving you.

Those situations made sense for you to be saved, but after you started college, it seemed as though the masked hero was infatuated by you because he showed up everywhere.

The first time you were caught off guard was when you had just gotten back from MIT for Christmas break after your first semester there.

Snow dwindled down the city, encasing it in a thick layer of cold. Hands shoved in your pockets, you walked as fast as you could to get to the coffee shop for a warm drink before starting your Christmas shopping.

Just your luck, the streets were slippery from the ice and partially melting snow.

You gasped as your boot slipped on a metal plate on the sidewalk with a loud squeak of your shoe slipping.

Right before you hit the ground, someone caught you in their arms.

You caught your breath, blinking, and when your vision cleared, you found none other than Spider-Man holding you in his warm embrace.

“Are you alright, ma'am?" he asked through his mask, arms wrapped around you protectively.

Your eyes were wide in both embarrassment that you almost fell and shock that Spider-Man was coincidentally nearby to save you from busting your ass.

You nodded, letting out a chuckle that caused you to see your own breath in the air. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Spider-Man helped you stand up straight, his hands on your waist with such care. As soon as your feet landed on the metal plate again, your shoes slid across it once more.

Instinctively, Spider-Man grabbed onto you, keeping you steady. “This city needs to get rid of this metal plate!” he exclaimed. “Someone could get seriously hurt!”

You laughed awkwardly. “Or I’m the problem. I haven’t seen anyone else fall on it.”

Spider-Man stared at you through his mask for a moment, and you couldn’t make out his face, but he was giving you the biggest puppy eyes.

He missed your laugh, especially the one you let out when you were nervous.

He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “Here, let me help you,” he said, holding his hands out for you to hold.

Your cheeks were burning pink and he wasn’t sure if it was because of him or the cold.

He liked to believe it was him.

Your own gloved hands met his, holding onto them tightly as he helped you walk across the plate.

“There you go,” he said, finally getting you off of the deadly metal. 

“Thanks,” you said, shoving your hands back into your pockets and flashing him a smile.

Spider-Man shuffled awkwardly, placing his hands onto his hips. “Yeah, it’s no problem.”

And that was the first incident of Spider-Man saving you over something so minor.

The second made you raise a brow, but you didn’t think too much of it.

You were out at a library, laptop wide open, the light of a document full of notes illuminating your textbooks surrounding you as you studied for your physics final.

You sipped on your coffee, highlighting and scribbling in your textbook.

Hours ticked by and you were growing sleepy. You reached for your coffee again, but by now it was empty.

“Damn it,” you whispered, clicking your pen and looking at the time on your laptop.

It was almost midnight.

You didn’t want to leave to grab more coffee because if you left, you knew you’d go straight back home and call it a night.

As if on cue, someone beside you cleared their throat.

You turned to find Spider-Man standing to your right with a fresh cup of coffee.

You blinked in shock. “How did…”

“Spider senses,” he said sheepishly, placing the coffee in front of you. “Good luck on your finals.”

Little did you know he had been watching you all day from through the window you sat beside.

By the third incident, you had a feeling that he had been watching you to some extent, because now it didn’t feel so much as to be a coincidence.

You were at home, in your own apartment making dinner. You weren’t paying attention and accidentally cut yourself with a knife.

“Shit!” you exclaimed, blood dripping all over the counter and floor.

You scrambled to grab a towel and held it against your hand, trying to stop the bleeding.

About five seconds later, there was a knock at your door.

You groaned and walked over to answer it, not even bothering to look through the peephole to see who it was.

“Spider-Man?” you said in disbelief.

He nodded, though his eyes were fixated on the towel in your hand and the blood dripping down your pinky finger and onto the floor. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Hold up how’d you-”

“Do you need help?”

“No, how’d you know that I-”

“You’re losing a lot of blood.”

“I cut myself, I’m not shot.”

“Okay, but still.”

You stared at him for a moment, the pain in your hand already beginning to burn. You wondered how he even knew you were hurt and how he arrived in record time. You didn’t dwell on the thought much because your skin was on fire. “Fine, whatever. Come in.”

He came inside, shutting the door behind him. “Do you have a first aid kit or something?”

“In my bathroom,” you said, leading the way.

You brought him into the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet and pulling the first aid kit out.

“You can sit, just give me one sec,” he said, hands moving hastily to open the kit.

You sat down on the toilet seat, staring at him in disbelief.

He had saved you on numerous occasions, sometimes over major things, mostly over minor matters.

The first few were major, with significant villains, but now it had grown so incredibly minor with catching you when you fell and replacing your empty coffee cups.

Your brain started to connect the dots and realize that he wasn’t just coincidentally in the area when you needed help. He was forcing himself to be within your proximity.

He grabbed a few supplies from the med kit and kneeled in front of you. He glanced up into your eyes through his mask. “Can I see?” he asked, motioning to your hand.

You still had the towel wrapped tightly around it, hand slightly trembling from the pain.

You slowly held your hand out, staring at him with uncertainty.

Why was he everywhere?

Didn’t he have real crimes to attend to?

His gloved hands carefully pulled on the towel and you released it from your hold.

He reached up to put it onto the counter as you looked down at your hand.

The cut was pretty deep, but not deep enough for stitches. The bleeding had stopped, leaving dried blood all down your hand and fingers.

He grabbed a fresh cloth from the counter and got it damp in the sink before kneeling back in front of you and cleaning the wound with such care.

You stared at him, as he focused on helping you. Your hand shook slightly as he held it. His expression softened, though you could not see it. His thumb grazed the pulse point on your wrist. “It’s okay,” he said softly, making your heart flutter.

He could sense your unease, the adrenaline wearing off and the pain beginning to truly settle in.

“You’re everywhere,” you said abruptly, though there was no harshness in your tone. It was simply an observation.

Peter reached for the antiseptic and looked up at you. “Kind of my job,” he chuckled. “This might sting.”

“Go for it,” you said.

Peter began to clean the wound and you winced, the cut burning more than before.

“Sorry,” he apologized, grabbing the bandages. He moved quickly, like someone who had done this a million times before. He hated the idea of hurting you because way back when you knew who he was, you were constantly hurt, simply for knowing him.

“It’s alright,” you said, watching as he wrapped your hand. “How’d you know I cut myself if I was in my apartment?” you asked.

“Spider senses,” he said.

“Right…” you trailed off. “What about the library? The coffee?”

Peter hesitated for a moment, before glancing up at you. “Spider…senses…”

You chuckled. “Really? You have spider senses for when a college student runs out of coffee at midnight.”

“Yes.”

Your brows pressed together and he knew that you knew he was full of shit.

He was watching you.

You narrowed your eyes and him and he gulped, your hand still in his.

“Are you lying to me?” you asked.

“No!” he exclaimed.

“You sure?”

“Yeah!”

You sat up straight, taking your hand away from his and crossing your arms over your chest. His fingers tingled where your hand once was. “You save anyone else in their own house?”

“No…”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the only one clumsy enough to get hurt in your own house,” he mumbled under his breath, though it didn’t go unheard by you.

“Excuse you?!”

“Nothing!” Peter scrambled up to his feet. “Stay safe!”

And that wasn’t the last you saw of him, those were just the first three incidents that made you catch onto the fact that Spider-Man seemed to love to find ways to save you.

Over the next few years he’d show up and stop you from stepping into puddles, talk with you on your fire escape when you seemed lonely, and he’d even save you from traffic, swinging you over the city to get you to work on time.

And tonight wasn’t any different, he was saving you from the late night traffic after work.

You grunted as he swung onto the side of your apartment building, holding you close with one arm as the other worked to slide your window up.

You climbed inside, the guy who you’d seen on a million occasions but didn’t have a name or face to, helping to lift you in.

With a soft thud, your shoes hid the ground of your bedroom.

“Alrighty, ma’am,” he said, jumping off of your building and shooting out a web to hang himself upside down from so that he could get a better look into your apartment. He glanced around in your room to make sure that the coast was clear. “Everything looks good to me. Have a great night.”

Before he could shut your window, you stopped it with your hand. He tilted his head slightly, already on high alert for threats. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?” he asked quickly, worry in his tone.

You stared at his eyes through the mask, without even knowing that you were doing it. Peter’s heart palpitated, eyes locked on yours.

“I have a question,” you said, causing Peter to silently freak out.

“Okay,” he said, voice cracking. In embarrassment, he cleared his throat, trying again. “I mean, okay.”

You smirked at his actions. “Why are you always saving me?” you asked.

Peter blinked. “Because you’re always in danger.”

You shook your head slowly, a sympathetic look on your face. “No I’m not.”

“But you are,” Peter insisted. “I mean, you cut your hand, and you almost tripped on a metal plate, and you could’ve been late for work, like a thousand times, and- oh! What about that one time you-”

“The one time I dropped a glass vase?” you asked. “The one time someone bumped into me and spilled their coffee on my shirt? Come on, Spider-Man,” you said with a laugh. “Some of those instances don’t necessarily call for a superhero to save me. You’re following me.”

Peter shifted awkwardly, not knowing what to say. He had been following you, and he had been doing it for years.

And over the course of those few years, you were catching onto something.

You were falling into something more.

But it was kind of hard to fall in deep when the guy wouldn’t even give you his name.

“Do I know you?” you finally asked.

“What?!” he exclaimed.

“I mean, it’s the only viable explanation as to why you keep following me and trying to protect me from a bunch of nonsense.”

The masked hero shook his head adamantly. “You do not know me,” he insisted. His head was starting to ache and maybe it was because he was handing upside down or because you were finally catching on.

You hummed and rocked back on your heels. “I think I do,” you said. “Why else do you keep following me?”

“Because…” he breathed out, losing track of his own words.

You tilted your head slightly, awaiting a response.

Peter let out a defeated sigh. “I just want to protect you, alright?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, and when you did that, he immediately knew you weren’t taking that answer. “Why?”

“It’s my job,” he said plainly. “You know, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

You took a step closer, making Peter stiffen. “And is stalking in the job description of your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?”

“I’m not stalking!” Peter defended himself.

“You totally are,” you said.

“No!”

“Yes.”

“I’m not!”

“Yes you are.”

“Nuh uh!”

“Yeah huh.”

He groaned, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can you not call it stalking?” he sighed. “It makes me sound like a creep and that’s not the case.”

“Then tell me why you keep following me,” you said. You took a step closer to the window. “Do we know each other?” you asked curiously.

He swallowed hard. “Used to,” he whispered.

Your brows pressed together. “Used to?”

Peter realized what he said. “I- I mean- like, well- we uh- it was a long time ago.”

Now you had more questions than answers. “Did we lose contact or something?” you asked.

“Uh…” Peter trailed off, wishing he hadn’t slipped up. “I…”

“You don’t have to tell me who you are,” you said softly, realizing he didn’t want to tell you. “Probably would defeat the whole anonymous thing.”

Peter chuckled. “Yeah.”

“What’s not so anonymous is how you’re clearly in love with me,” you half joked.

Peter’s eyes widened as his heart skipped a beat. His hold on the web loosened and he slipped, nearly plummeting down a multitude of floors into the street.

Thankfully he caught himself in time and you laughed at him, leaning on the window seal, the cool New York air blowing against your skin. “That was partially a joke, but good to know you do like me,” you teased.

“You're really pretty,” he blurted out, his face a bright shade of pink from under his mask.

Your face heated up. “You think so?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

You smirked. “Can’t say the same for you.”

“Hey!”

“I’ve never seen your face, dork,” you laughed.

“True…” he trailed off.

Your expression softened as your fingers came up to where the fabric of his mask could be lifted. You carefully pulled it up to the tip of his nose, his lips fully exposed to you.

His breath shuttered as you touched him because over the last few years, he missed nothing more than your fingers on his skin.

Not touching his suit.

His skin.

You slowly leaned in, lips meeting his in a soft, sensual kiss.

His eyes fluttered shut behind his mask as he hummed against your lips. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss as if to remember what it was like to love you again. The shape of your lips, the way yours moved against his, the way you felt.

It was incredibly intoxicating and he never wanted the moment to end because he was suddenly reminded of what it was like to be in love with you before he lost it all.

It felt euphoric, a better feeling than any drug could ever give him.

You were his drug and he had been in withdrawal for years.

You pulled away and gave him a small smile, face hot. “Goodnight, Spider-Man.”

The poor boy’s lips were still parted, a tingling sensation running across his mouth, the ghost of your lips still on his.

“G-goodnight,” he stuttered, face flushed.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

A/N: Starting a taglist for Peter oneshots, lmk if you want to be added! :)

[cherrywineisawaltz]

MINORS DNI

warnings: p in v sex. dubcon. rough sex.

Toying with the idea of Peter having a sensory overload while you’re fucking. He had been so careful around you, an arms length while his arachnid senses were haywire, promising it was only until he could find a way to handle the surge of emotions that overwhelmed his nervous system. A moment of weakness resulted in the current position, your palms splayed out across Peter’s ridged back as his hips drove into yours, groans rumbling through his heaving chest as you pulled him close, having missed this proximity in the few days he denied you. He had swallowed when you took cautious steps close to him, lip twitching at the familiar yet now unavoidable scent of your arousal clouding his judgement, letting you paw at his achingly hard cock and press open mouth kisses to the sensitive junction of his throat, skin on fire with each graze of your touch. Your pretty moans echo against his ear, pulsing to his cock with each sheathe of his hips, a sensation more pronounced than usual, every fiber of his being exposed to you, every scent and sound and touch tugging his mind in all different directions. He can feel it swallow him whole as he pushes to the hilt once again, a guttural groan shakily reverberating through his chest, vision darting to your bare skin, the sheen of sweat that gathered at your collar down to your tits.

“Peter?” You had feebly called, shaky breath catching on the last syllable as his deep black eyes swallowed you up, the vision of your languid body staring back at you. Your lips peeled into a yelp, palms pulling your knees to yank your body down underneath him, pressing your knees tight to your tits, contorting your body in half with a sharp punctuation of his hips slapping against yours. The taut muscle of your thighs stretched under the weight of his chest pressing you down, ankles bobbing up by his ears as he sunk into your pussy, aching cunt swallowing him whole at the new angle, a tinge of pain spiraling through your abdomen with the tip of his cock punching against your cervix. You cried out, helpless pants of his name as he drove into you relentlessly, unabiding strength keeping you completely at his mercy, snatching up your pawing hands as you pushing against his flexed abdomen for some sort of relief, “Don’t,” he rasped. “Don’t run from it. You wanted this—right? Then take it,” your toes curled as his thighs slapped against the back of your ass, fingers clawing into the stalky strain of his forearms holding your knees to your chest. “All that crying for what? Acting like you can’t take it,” his voice rumbled, pitch black eyes blinking down at your eager cunt swallowing him up over and over, “You’ll take what I give you. Isn’t that right? Whatever I want?”

[littlemissfaebles]

𝒔ex 𝒂nd 𝒕he 𝒄ity

synopsis: after moving to new york city, you develop a crush on your new hot neighbour. he's very secretive but after catching him in your clothes, you discover the truth and he does his best to distract you from it. major spiderman: brand new day spoilers ahead. cw: 18+ mdni, smut. sub!peter, oversensitive peter (spider dna reasons), no prep, cowgirl, unprotected p in v, orgasming together. wordcount: 2.7k

‘oh!’ you call cheerfully and the curly headed figure in the hall turns, ‘we live on the same floor! hey neighbour!’ 

his eyebrows knot together, a short chuckle escaping his lips. ‘cool.’ comes his bemused, barely even polite response. 

without introducing himself, your admittedly rather handsome neighbour disappeared into his apartment. your heart sank as your own key rattled in the door, stepping inside your empty apartment with a sigh. 

slinging your tote bag onto the floor, you stare at the piles of packed boxes that fill the shoebox of a home. opening your fridge, you’re greeted by day old takeaway and souring milk. 

opting for the box of noodles, you sit on the only chair you have. it’s a beanbag with half the beans spilling out of it that you’d dragged from a dumpster all the way to the top of this block. pulling your knees up to your chest as you chopstick soggy noodles into your mouth, you reach for your open laptop. 

the cursor was blinking back at you like a mantra of failure, an empty document staring you in the face. moving to new york was supposed to give you the creative inspiration you’d been searching for, having exhausted all your options in your small, middle of nowhere hometown. 

fuelled by the promise of brilliance, you’d packed everything up and left your parent’s house with minimal fanfare and now you were stuck. no friends, no meaningful career and now you couldn’t even hold a conversation with a neighbour. maybe this was all a mistake. 

you finished your meal unceremoniously, not even a hint of characters in your head or any semblance of plot for the novel you were convinced you were destined to write. collapsing onto your mattress, the springs long since died and no bedframe to speak of either. you fell into a dreamless sleep, although you were certain you woke up once, in the middle of the night, to a flash of red passing by your window. 

a few days later, you stooped to a new low. dumping your resume at every reception desk within a five mile radius had solved nothing, you were still jobless and the rent payment was slowly creeping up. 

‘please? i’ll work weekends, i’ll clean, i’ll-’ you plead with your local bodega owner. 

‘i’m not hiring, sweetheart.’ he repeated for the millionth time, shaking his head at you. 

‘come on, just one day a week!’ you groan, leaning against the counter and almost certainly blocking his business. 

‘i can’t afford it!’ he shrugs, hands tied. 

just as you’re thinking of a rebuttal, a man slides in beside you. 

‘sorry to interrupt- can i just-?’ he dropped a collection of coins onto the counter and turned. 

all the colour drained from your face, it was your neighbour. your hot neighbour with a bouquet of flowers clutched to his chest. up close, you could see the angular line of his jaw and his dark, sorrowful eyes. suddenly, you found yourself unable to speak, breath catching in your throat. 

his head tilted to the side as recognition sparked in his expression, ‘hey. we’re neighbours right?’ came the polite greeting, lips spreading into a warm smile. 

you nod furiously, hearing your own words repeated back to you is too embarrassing, although there’s no humour in his tone. 

he continues gently despite your lack of verbal response, ‘i’m peter.’ 

‘nice to officially meet you.’ you smile, finding your voice but unexpectedly having this bizarre urge to curtsey. 

thankfully, you don’t and peter’s disappeared before you can continue the awkward chat, again. the bodega owner just shakes his head at you so you snatch your resume and storm off, disappointed once more. 

after what felt like an eternity of staring at the battered four walls of your apartment and scrounging around for just enough money to live, just as you were about to pack it in and go home to your parents in defeat, you were offered a job. 

it wasn’t life-changing money or anywhere near your dream role, but it was an office job, full time with entirely average pay. you were officially an intern for the daily bugle. 

‘what’s the deal with spiderman?’ you lament to one of the other interns, lara. 

her entire face twisted into one of utter surprise, ‘seriously? he’s like singlehandedly saving new york.’ 

you glanced around the office, every tv screen had his face plastered all over them. 

‘spiderman stops fifth criminal in two weeks’ 

‘spiderman prevents major pile up in downtown nyc’ 

‘who is the masked hero bringing down crime rates?’

‘wow…’ you whisper under your breath. 

lara’s furrowed brow deepens, ‘you really hadn’t heard of him?’ 

‘superheroes aren’t really in a thing in small towns.’ comes your honest reply, ‘nothing much going on and nobody worth saving.’ 

minus the blip and the ramifications of losing half your farmers for apparently five years, but you don’t mention that part. 

even so, lara can detect the sadness in your words. ‘look… all i’m saying is that guy.’ her pen deftly points to your boss, the boss, j.jonah jameson storming through the desks with a desperate photographer at his heel. ‘would pay a lot of money to find out spiderman’s identity.’ 

you nodded, ‘huh.’

you knew she was only half serious, it wasn’t a challenge yet it sunk deep into your bones regardless. a lot of money, you could do with a lot of money. 

the subway journey home is a mindless blur, you’re too busy replaying the faint memory from a few months ago. the flash of red outside your window, you’ve dissected it a million times. it wasn’t a car light, too close and no noise to accompany it. it could’ve been long enough to be a person, in a suit, in the suit but what would spiderman be doing around your block anyway. it was in the worst, albeit cheapest area of new york and surely you would’ve heard a commotion if he had been arresting criminals. 

the memory continued to plague you, even as you stepped into the creaking elevator heading to your apartment, with it’s broken buttons and sticky floor. however, one floor up, your pondering is cut short by someone stepping in beside you. 

‘hey. sorry.’ came the awkward voice. 

your eyes widened, new york cannot be this small that you keep running into your hot neighbour, peter. 

‘it’s fine.’ you reply quickly, pulling your handbag tighter up your shoulder. 

it’s only when you actually turn your head to look at him, that you realise everything is not fine. peter is stood next to you, arm muscles rippling in a cropped black tank top and cupping his crotch in a pair of low rise sweatpants with the reddest face you’ve ever seen. the whole outfit looks familiar, too familiar. 

‘is that my shirt?’ you asked, bewildered. 

‘no…’ he lied, badly. 

looking him up and down again, you were more than certain he was wearing your clothes. the clothes you had put in the laundry that morning before you’d dashed off to the daily bugle, the clothes that you were desperately looking forward to changing into when you got home. 

before you can ask again, the metal doors slide open and he’s sprinting out of that elevator and into his apartment faster than the speed of light. his door slams shut and you’re left alone in the hallway once again, even more confused. 

scouring your wardrobe, you confirm those were definitely your missing clothes and after summoning the courage, with a lot of deep breaths and walking up to his front door only to turn around and run back over and over, you finally knock on his door. 

the minute it swings open, barely an inch and he’s stood there in his pyjamas but you start your practiced spiel. ‘look peter, i know those are my clothes. i’m not gonna ask any questions, i would just really like them back and- holy shit!’

your jaw dropped, immediately distracted by what you could spy in the crack of peter’s door. stringy webs coated his entire apartment, covering every surface and furnishing, almost like a spider lived there. 

pushing the door further open with a second thought, you’re stepping inside. if you thought your apartment was a mess, this was another level. every item of furniture was upturned, white webs falling from the ceiling and caking the apartment like a layer of dust. 

‘wait-’ peter called hurriedly, trying to step in front of you. 

‘what is this?’ you breathe, moving closer to a collection of monitors atop a desk, stray pieces of tech littered across it. 

‘i’ll grab your clothes…’ he mutters, disappearing into the next room. 

as you glanced around in wonder, the cogs in your brain began to turn. the flash of red by your window, the oversized webs strewn around his apartment. either peter was housing a family of spiders or he was…

turning around with an open mouth, ‘you’re-’

before you can get the words out, peter’s kissing you. he’d rushed over, pressed his lips to yours and dropped your laundry in the process. 

you’re overwhelmed, taken aback but you find yourself leaning in, kissing back with fervor. cupping his strong cheekbones, you’re barely breathing in between hungry kisses, stumbling back till he hits the wall. 

peter’s hands are all over you, feeling you up despite your corporate attire. eventually, you break away for good, coming up for air like a fish but you notice peter’s hardly out of breath. 

‘what… are you doing?’ you pant, gazing at him. 

‘what you want.’ he whimpers, ‘please?’ 

something in his tone makes your stomach flip and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t dream about this moment ever since you’d first met him. admittedly, surrounded by spiderwebs and biotech wasn’t exactly how you pictured it but you were needy and he was attractive. 

‘bedroom.’ comes your reply, a question and a statement rolled into one. 

peter doesn’t need to be told twice and with his large hand dwarfing your own as he takes it, he leads you into the alcove of his room. the bed is unmade but you don’t care anymore, especially when he pulls his shirt off in one swift move. 

his muscles are insane, bordering on inhuman. he’s stocky, a firm six pack with bulging arms and yet he’s got the most bashful expression on his face. veins run across the back of his strong hands, the ones that have currently got your delicate fingers tucked in them. 

‘fuck me.’ you whisper, eyes feasting on his build. 

‘that’s the- uh- plan.’ he jokes sheepishly, and you crack a soft smile. 

he’s back on you again, like a starved creature, kissing at your neck with unabashed desire. peter’s stumbling back onto his bed which creaks as you both tumble onto it. you break away, now sitting on top of him, feeling his semi underneath your pencil skirt. 

licking your lips in what you hope is a salacious manner, you start to run your hands along his chest. peter squirms, more than you’d expect but he’s not making you stop. 

‘ah- ah-’ he breathes, twitching as you flick his exposed nipples, standing to attention in the cold of his room. 

'you like that?' you purr, continuing to rub your supple hands all over his responsive body.

'y-yeah...' peter laughs breathily, 'feels s-so! good.'

there was curiosity on his tone rather than apprehension but you don't question it. lifting your hips, you start to pull down his tartan pyjama bottoms. with no boxers on, peter's veiny dick springs free and stands to attention.

'jesus christ...' he grunts as precum already starts dribbling out of his overly sensitive tip.

you swallow, unable to draw your eyes away from his twitching cock. even as peter pulls you down closer to him, for another kiss, you're still envisioning him inside you.

with a wry smile, he flirts, 'your turn.'

as he speaks, his thick fingers are making quick work of the buttons of your blouse, slowly revealing your comfort bra. in your defense, you weren't planning on hooking up today, you would've worn a much sexier bra if you knew.

peter doesn't seem to care, helping you tug the tight shirt off so you're just in your bra, which he hurriedly unclips so your boobs can be freed.

'wow.' he breathes, a slow open smile spreading across his face as he takes in your chest.

immediately, he presses kisses to the flesh there tenderly, like he's mapping out your body for his memory. as he continues, you awkwardly unzip your skirt and toss it, and your granny panties without him noticing for that would be too embarrassing, aside onto the floor.

peter's dark eyes are as wide as saucers, filled with adoration. 'you're beautiful.' he murmured.

'...thank you.' comes your embarrassed reply, pressing your lips together to hide your cheesy smile.

he lets you sit up, settle against his strong erection. lifting your hips, you slowly start to sink down on his length, gasping at every inch.

his face is contorting into expressions of pleasure you've never even seen before, and he's already gripping the sheets.

'fuuuck me.' he pants, sweat already beading on his forehead.

'are you okay?' you pull a face of concern, pausing halfway. your tight pussy was clenching around him hungrily as it rubbed against your gummy walls.

'never better.' peter choked out with a vigorous nod to continue.

exhaling deeply, you continue to lower your hips down till you're fully seated inside him. he's big, not thick but long and you can already feel his tip prodding that spongy spot inside you.

'okay... god you feel good. so tight, so perfect.' peter's rambling, already lost in oversensitive pleasure.

it's almost endearing how much he's feeling it, even as you start to roll your hips and his body practically levitates off the bed. with every subtle movement you make, his body jerks in response.

'yeah? is that good, peter?' you taunt, starting to bounce on his dick.

he's in awe as peter watches your tits jiggle as you move up and down. lifting his hips in tune with you, making sure he slams into your g-spot everytime.

'ah- ah- yes- yes oh god yes-' he whimpers, repeatedly till it's hardly even full words.

throwing your head back, you coax, 'that's it- fuck-'

slowing down, you let yourself feel every inch of his dick, coating into your slick walls. peter's still moving beneath you like a jackrabbit, abusing the spot inside that makes you see stars.

'peter... please... i'm close...' you crow, feeling your body start to tense.

'wait- wait- wait- i'm- shit-' he's out of it, completely delirious on the feeling of being inside you.

that's the only warning he gives before he's shooting ropes of cum inside you.

'oh god- oh god- oh god-' he moans, whole body writhing like a snake beneath you.

he's breathless, chest heaving but still staring at you like you'd hung the moon and stars. the sight is enough for you to feel yourself slip into an orgasm, soaking his already leaking cock and his thighs, and most certainly his sheets.

'jesus fucking christ.' you whimper, nearly doubling over and hands finding his rock hard abs for stability.

however, the sight of your orgasm reignites peter's own and he's busting inside you of once again, overstimulated and moaning dumbly. he's twitching, not even trying to stay still, every sensation overwhelming him.

once you finally come down from your high, you slide off him, moving to sit down beside the bed. peter doesn't take his eyes off you, even as his hard cock hits his stomach, still shooting out endless ropes of cum.

'thank you...' he whimpers, 'thank you so fucking much. that was incredible. you're incredible.'

you tilt your head to the side, you were not this good. this was some porno level behaviour. 'thanks?'

eventually, he'd stopped cumming and lay spread-eagled on the bed as he came back down to earth. even as he'd stood up to shower, his legs were shaking like a baby deer, every nerve in his body thrumming with pleasure.

you'd climbed into the single bed with him, foreheads pressed together and legs entangled in each others. he'd wiped a stray lash from your cheek and was just, staring. no words needed to be shared, it was a moment of complete and utter stillness, something you didn't realise you'd been craving till you were in it.

'wait so are you spiderman?' you ask, killing the mood immediately but curiousty got the better of you.

'shhh...' he'd muttered sleepily, finger pressing to your lips. 'save that for the morning.'

❤︎⁠ taglist: @voidsuites (to be added)

[reveuchet]

Omg more arachnid peter

18+ peter loves his webs

he loves using his webs to restrain you, gluing your hands and feet onto the bed posts, watching as it balls into a fist as he hits you in all the right spots. he loves the way your face twists into a lewd expression, brows pinching together, eyes rolling back and jaw hanging to let the moans escape.

his thrusts are brutal, vibrating through the entire building, shaking it in its entirety. he lets out loud grunts, low moans as he feels your warmth envelop his cock whole.

"f-fuck... you know i love you so much, right?" he asks, his hand's grip around your waist harsh enough to bruise.

you whine, clenching around him desperately. "i-i love you just as— much!"

his pace is relentless, continuing to abuse your sore clit. the sound of skin slapping joining into a cacophony among other sounds, your slick coats his cock, the burning feeling of his cock stretching you out sending more pleasure into your veins.

everything feels so good. your mind starts hazing, body moving pliantly according to his will.

you feel the webs around your ankles and wrists, banging into the web repeatedly as he sends hard thrusts that make your body move along with it. but somehow, it doesn't budge.

instinctively, you squirm, legs unconsciously trying to close despite wanting more but the webs keep you intact. they keep your legs wide open, letting him have easy access. that's what he loves so much about 'em.

he doesn't think twice before cumming inside you, planting his seed in hopes of making more of him. and so do you.

real question: does spiderman cum webs?

[dykonicdiva]

i am at my clits end