peter came in through the window last night ; cw. fluff , established relationship , rom-com cliché's , prompt inspired by the song of the title ; words. 0,6k
author's note ⌇ with the brand new day trailer out i feel like the best thing i could do is comeback with a peter parker blurb even though its tasm!peter lololl anyways feel free to send in some of ur thoughts and requests for himmm
dating new york's infamous spider-man was far from normal. even before that, who knew you would have a spark with the boy you barely acknowledged in high-school? never mind that, who knew he'd be your boyfriend let alone the blue and red vigilante crossing the busy streets? it's a bizarre scenario your thirteen year-old self would've imagined. but hey, you're living it now.
somehow, you'd have to smuggle late night emergencies and early morning absences within your routine. peter would crash by during the most painful hours and yet you showed no complaints, patching him up as you listen to his recent encounters with all kinds of villains, and finishing up with kisses plus takeaway pizza from the shop nearby.
you were used to him entering your room via window all bruised up and muddy, with puppy dog eyes you couldn't imagine saying no to. but of course, being peter parker's girlfriend you wouldn't expect anything less. not when your bed-rotting, music-listening, session was interrupted by obnoxious knocking. peter parker smiled obliviously through your window, mouthing a 'please let me in' whilst giggling internally.
the skies were melting into a dark orange and purple tint, you got up to open the locked latch as peter struggled to find balance. greeted with a kiss on the nose, peter clumsily fell onto the carpet— all existence of his spider-senses seem to vanish into thin air when he's around you. you scoff in disbelief whilst he fixed his hair, peter finally spoke, "don't look at me like that, at least i'm not bleeding onto your carpet like the last four times,"
"five times, actually," you correct him.
he scratches his head, he asked, "you keep count?" in which you nodded. you took the time to study peter, it was a refreshing sight to see as he's correct on one thing, he isn't all bloody. he was wearing the shirt you bought him months ago, layered on top of a long white sleeve top, and it complimented the jeans he was wearing too. you were undeniably in love with him at this moment— peter looked as if he just came out of your favorite 2000s rom-com.
"if you're not all beaten up, why come so suddenly through my window?" you furrowed your brows, peter shrugs ultimately, "i dunno? it's a nice change, and i don't think your doorman likes me anyways," the room lights up alongside his dimples. you gesture peter to join you on the carpet, "mr. stevie? he's the sweetest, what could you possibly do for him not to like you?" he leans onto your head.
"remember when you were sick and i had to buy two huge tubs of soup and deliver it to you personally?" peter questions, you nod slowly, as if you were unsure— "yeah, well, i only gave you one tub, because guess what happened to the other one..."
"oh peter, don't tell me you spilt it—"
"all over his attire, fully coaxed in warm soup."
you slapped the palm of your hand onto your forehead, peter laughed as he fixed the crook of his glasses. the laughter slowly fades into one with the light of the sun setting, the hues mixing harmoniously with you and peter's features. he took a moment to fully embrace your beauty. you did as well— peter's glasses were slightly crooked from all the falling and tripping throughout the months, his hair messy from either the wind outside or his sudden entrance, the shirt hugged him so well you knew the second you gave it it's as if it was made for him.
peter's gaze was locked onto yours, "if you wanted to kiss me, you know you can, right? i didn't come through your window for nothing." his teasing tone made you snap back to reality. the stupid grin on his face grew as you became embarrassingly red.
→ premise: peter needed to test how strong the new formula for his web shooters is so why not get his gf’s help, and have a little fun with it. its not like he had millions of other more scientific ways to test its strength.
→ pairing: tasm!peter x fem!reader
→ warnings: smut | 18+, bondage [with peters webs], fingering, small edging, peter possibly ooc, nicknames [baby, princess]
→ a/n: kinktober 04
Sure Peter had plenty of other ways he could test out the strength of his newly formulated web fluid. But you were just so eager to help your boyfriend out, always asking him if there was something you could do. Sewing up gashes and holes in his spider suit, patching him up after a fight, etc. So why not enlist the help of his pretty girlfriend instead of testing it out the same old boring way he always did. Of course being unaware of his little scheme you innocently and sweetly said yes when he asked if you'd help him out with an experiment. That was how you ended up in Peter's bed, hands restrained together and stuck to the headboard with his webs.
His body was currently nestled between your spread legs, eyes roaming your body before fixing on your face. Your lower half is entirely exposed, the breeze from his open window nipping at your skin making you squirm. “This wasn't what I thought you meant when you asked for help, and I said yes Peter” you whine and buck your hips into his touch as his hands roam up your sides, rubbing and caressing your body. You can feel the cool metal of the singular web shooter strapped to his left wrist. “Oh this is fully what I intended when I asked baby, tug all you want, squirm all you want” he coos as he uncovers your breasts by pushing your shirt up to reveal them. “Need to test how strong the new formula is” he explains softly as his right hand falls between your open thighs, middle and ring fingers nudging open your slit and rubbing through your folds. Slick immediately collecting on the tips of his slender fingers.
With a sharp intake of breath you twist your body and try shifting your hips away from his hands. His free hand that has the web shooter aims towards your writhing leg and shoots webs that wrap your ankle tethering it to his foot board. “You sure this wasn’t what you intended, princess? You're so wet for me” he emphasizes his tease with a tilt of his head, smirking softly as his two fingers push at your hole.
You whine and push your hips back on his hand trying to get them inside you, your hole clenching at the small intrusion. “I missed you Pete, you've been so busy” you explain and look through your lashes at your boyfriend hovering over you, your eyes full of longing and love. “Awww well i'm here now baby” he leans down and presses his lips to yours just as his two fingers push knuckle deep inside you. You let out a short surprised moan against his lips as you kiss back greedily. You tug at the webs around your wrists, hands desperate and itching to touch Peter. “Keep tugging baby, try your hardest, you can do it” he mumbles into your mouth, his words both encouraging and mocking before humming when you whine in response. Goosebumps rise on your skin from the pleasure, his free hand coming to pin your hips down holding them still.
Pumping his fingers in and out of your leaking cunt, a sloppy squelching sound filling the room along with your muffled whimpers and moans. “Fuck!~” you let out a plaintive cry and pull away from peters mouth when his thumb is added in, stimulating your clit. Rubbing small circles on your bundle of nerves as his fingers speed up their movement, making your mouth fall open and your head fall back against his pillows. Your hands tug as well as your leg at his webbing, the action doing nothing to tear or unstick it. A heat spreading through your body, you liked this idea of him tying you up with his webs more than you could’ve guessed, the heat settling and growing in the pit of your stomach.
“Come on baby, i don't think your tryin’ hard enough to break out” he taunts as his long fingers find that spongy spot deep inside you and start abusing it, the rough pad of his tongue speeding up its circles. “Gonna have you cumming before you break the webs princess” he chuckles softly and leans down to kiss along the exposed column of your neck. Your head goes fuzzy from his mouth on you, his fingers ruthlessly thrusting inside you, the feeling of him all over you. “Can’t- I can’t do it Pete, i cant break em’ fuck- please baby im gonna cum!” you whine and cry out, your eyes squeezed shut as you teeter on the edge of your climax.
He grabs ahold of your chin and moves your head up the movement forces your eyes open, you stare into his deep brown eyes, his pupils blown.
“Not yet baby, the experiment hasn't gone on long enough, need to see if they break” his voice comes out sweet yet concedesing as he crashes his lips against yours to muffle your wanton moan.
Truthfully Peter had gotten enough information from all your squirming and pulling that he figured it was strong enough, he was just having far too much fun playing with his pretty girlfriend.
→ a/n: i havent written for tasm!peter in a bit so I feel like he’s possibly out of character ? Idk I felt rusty when writing him
Tasm Peter Parker x Reader where your boyfriend makes it up to you for leaving you high and dry for Spider-Man duties
cw: smut 18+, no y/n, afab reader, praise, touching over clothing, clit play, sickly sweet petnames, dirty talk, teasing, soft!dom peter if you squint
an: haven’t posted in months guys sorry! I’ve got so many drafts but I lose interest quick lmao
୨ :★: ୧
It was a risky decision to entertain, knowing that your boyfriend could swing by your fire scape at any moment. Coming up on finishing with his friendly Spiderman duties for the night, never at a specific time but always near the same hour. Unless some monsterly being wreaks havoc upon the city, of course.
But you just couldn't wait. Peter, being the mean, teasing, cruel boyfriend he is (he adores you and can't help but work you up anytime he gets the chance coz he loves) was kissing you so sweetly just hours ago. Crowded under his frame on the softness of your mattress, strong knee knocked up against your covered cunt and rocking you down in teasing drags. That is until his radio went off and he kissed your parted mouth sweetly in quick apology. With quick dashes around the room he was suited up and slipping out the window in a flash.
He left you panting and sticky, hot ache coiled up tight and your stomach and an incessant thumping of a second heartbeat between your thighs.
At first you felt sour, disgruntled at his quick exit, and then it turned to guilt, knowing he was needed elsewhere to save some civilians who gotten dragged into unessecary danger. You tried distraction, reading a short novel you had picked up recently, and then when your mind wouldn't quiet you turned to the television in the living room. But no matter what you tried and as the hours passed you couldn't get that stupid hot ache to leave you alone.
It was a dire situation, you decided. You were drawn back to your bed, laid on your front with your hand quickly settled between your thighs. Brows furrowed, eyes scrunched tight you stuffed your face into the pillow, muffling soft gasps of pleasure, thinking of Peter and his stupid pretty face all the while.
Then the sound of the window creaking open and soft footsteps dropping against the hardwood. You freeze, hand still trapped between your thighs. The position of your body laid on your front was innocent enough, if he didn't go looking Peter would probably assume sleep dragged you under.
You could hear the sound of him unzipping and dropping his suit to the floor, left in just his boxers. "Bub? You asleep?" Peter whispered, moving to crouch down beside the bed, brushing his hand across the back of your hair. And then his senses hone in, the sound of your erratic heartbeat catching his attention.
You swallow thickly, turning your head on your pillow to face him with hot cheeks. You can't decide if it'd be better to try and move your hand from between your legs now, or just leave it there lest he catches the movement.
He observes your for a second, gaze dragging over you. He spots your arm tucked under your front and his eyes spark, mouth quirking up at the corner. "Oh, baby. Still haven't calmed down yet, huh?' He coos. To the normal ear it would sound affectionate, but you know better. He’s finding your needy state funny.
With an embarrassed huff you turn on your side to face him, hand still trapped between your legs. "S'your fault," you insist, a frown pulling at your mouth. You push your palm into your clit, staring him down to show your upset
His eyes dart at your actions, flashing dark at the unusual show of confidence from you. Smirk softening, his throat bobs as he reaches out to pet your cheek. "I know. I know, baby. I’m so sorry. I’m so mean. Just left you all alone after I wound you up, hmm?" He rises and presses his knee to the bed to climb over you, urging you on your back with a nudge to your hip. He sits back on his heels between your spread legs, rubbing soothing lines up and down your thighs.
You let out a huff of air, chest stuttering and heat coiling renewed at his easy handling of you. Your hand falls to the side of the bed. Though, you continue to pout, determined to convey your disapproval of his quick exit earlier. "M'yeah. You were— you just left me. I’m mad at you."
"Mad, huh? That's alright, sweetness. You can be mad. Know you're upset with me. M'gonna make it up to you, okay?" His eyebrows dip in a way that should look sympathetic, but the patronizing grin tugging ever so at his lips gives away his amusement with your peeved state.
Big hands scoop under your thighs and he drags you towards him until they can rest propped up on his own. He keeps you spread like that while thumb makes quick work of drawing lines up and down your soaked front.
The unexpected burst of pleasure makes your breath quiver and your thighs shake. You want to protest, maybe pat his hands away and insist he's not allowed to touch after leaving you so easily earlier. But, god, do his fingers feel like heaven after hours without anything.
"It's not—" you gasp, "not gonna work."
He leans down to smush open mouthed kisses up your jaw, leading up to your frown and delicately pressing his smile to your lips. Even under your petulance you can’t resist his kisses, allowing him to part your mouth and deepen the kiss in a goal to make you more pliant and relaxed.
Spoiler alert. It works. Like always.
He pulls back to respond to your previous comment. "That's okay, honey. Think what you like. Just gonna make you come quick and like this. Get you stretched out for my cock, yeah? We'll see how you feel then, how about that?" Peter murmurs easily.
You hiccup an embarrassing sound, thighs threatening to twitch closed if it wasn't for his strong palm gripping your thigh to keep you spread open. His thumb starts to work tight circles over you bud, an unrelenting toying that makes your brain fog.
It’s honestly humiliating how easy he can work you up. Before Peter you were never able to come so quick, a few romps here and there left you wanting but too drained and disappointed to even ask for a return of your own pleasure. Even by your own hand you’ve never been able to reach that peak in mere minutes like he can.
Your breath starts to pick up, fast little hitches of air punch from your chest, keen little whining noises you try to suppress if only to try your revenge on Peter’s abandonment.
He eyes you up like you’re something sweet, plainly enjoying the pinch of your brow and slight frown on your lips that keeps slipping into open mouthed pants. Pleasured little noises that has his cock kicking up in his tight boxers.
“Oh, baby,” He coos.
The soaked fabric of your underwear rubbing against your your clit with every swipe and swirl of his deft fingers creates a delicious friction that has you digging your hands into the sheets.
His eyes light up, hungry grin widening. Recognition.“You’re close aren’t you, bug? You gonna come for me, make a little mess?”
That molten ache in your belly tightens. You shake your head no, lips pinched. Embarassed as always about your quickly rising pleasure.
He nods his head in counter, looking awfully pleased. “Yeah you are. You can be mad and still come for me, can’t you? I won’t take it as surrender, promise, baby.”
And then he does something evil. He pinches your clit between his knuckles, punching a breath out of your chest and then rubs the tightest little circles and you’re done for.
The sudden switch in tactic has you tipping over the edge, hard. You come with a sob, a whiny pitchy thing and shudder as that pulsing ache snaps. “Fuck—Peter.” You feel a humming warmth spread down your hips and to the tips of your toes. Body wound so tight and basking in the onslaught of pleasure.
“Oh, pretty baby. So gorgeous coming for me, aren’t you? So good for me.” He murmurs sweet praises. You can feel his adoring gaze traveling over your pleasured expression.
He leans down to press soft kisses to your parted mouth as he continues to rub at your sticky panties, forcing you to ride out your high until your legs twitch and thighs force inwards from overstimulation. Only then does he give you reprieve. His hands come up to cup your cheeks, kissing sweetly over your hot face.
“God you’re fucking unreal, you know that? I’ll never get enough of seeing you like this, bub. Never. I’m damned when it comes to you, little gremlin.”
You can’t help but let out a weak giggle. “So I get sweetness for two seconds and then I’m gremlin? Best boyfriend ever,” you deadpan.
Peter pulls back an inch to meet your gaze, eyes eclipse by black, rubbing the tip of his nose against your own. “Yeah, well your best boyfriend got you all nice and sticky for his fingers. Gonna stretch you open and get you ready for my cock. What do you think about that?”
“Yeah.” Your answer is immediate, breathy with want.
He chuckles, kissing the tip of your nose. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, gremlin.”
pairing: academic rival! peter parker x fem reader
word count: 12.4k
summary: an academic competition sends you into overdrive to beat your archnemises peter parker, not only for the sake of braaging rights but for the prize of a week long trip to mexico (away from him). but what happens when that prize is suddenly split into two, forcing you and him to be travel buddies?
warnings: SMUT! praise kink, pet names (bunny), oral sex, messy make-outs, dry humping, man-handling, slight hair pulling, forced proximity, jealously/ angst, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, reader has anxiety
The person that stared back at you in the mirror was a girl you could barely recognize.
She seemed almost empty, as if her insides had been scooped clean and scraped off the sides from the outer walls of thick flesh. It had been nearly thirty hours since you had slept. The bags under your eyes were as dark and as heavy as the night air outside your apartment.
A gentle breeze gusted through your opened window, the only thing keeping you sane as you lifted a hand to your face, as if your mind was unsure if you were real. The only two things that had kept you awake was the endless amount of caffeine, which now left a sacrine taste stuck to your teeth, and the drive to beat Peter Parker.
Wiping that smug smirk off your nemesis’s face when you beat him would make these past few months worth it, and then some. It was the chemistry department's annual “thesis” competition, something they loved to drag through the mud at NYU.
On top of the actual thesis one had to vomit out at the end of their two years of a masters, there was an additional competition the department hosted in the first year, courtesy of the schools seemingly endless funds towards the STEM students.
It wasn't a required entry, hence why only ten people in the whole program had signed up.
You being one of them.
Peter Parker being another.
It wasn't like you were only competitive and hard-working because of Peter. You would never give him that satisfaction, even if it was the case it was the truth.
No, you had always been this determined and hard working, even in simple high school chemistry labs. But the pool had certainly widened since high school, high achievers with much sharper teeth swam alongside you now.
You had to prove yourself more than ever before, but the reward of the Deans List and praise from your family and professors was worth the endless work and study-sheets.
You had actually worked hard to get to where you were now.
Unlike some people, where it came naturally. Or their parents had money, and could weasel their way into the Dean's mind like snakes, to cater to their golden child.
The mere thought of Peter Parker made your jaw clench so hard you worried teeth would crack.
No, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction, even though this was in your mind, and your mind alone- that you gave him even the slightest bit of time in your day. Or night, in this case. It was now 12:05.
Six minutes after the deadline for your secondary thesis, your countless months (years really, you always just used a near dying pen and a napkin to jot it down) of jumbled ideas, random thoughts and hypotheses spewed out onto a nice, neat document.
Organized, somehow, when your mind felt like it was moving a mile a minute, jumping from one thought to the next.
And somehow, he was in the mix. Of all the things you could think of, he was right up there with the worst of the worst.
You should be celebrating, it was done, and you were free. But all you felt was built churning in your gut, making you queasy.
Whether it was the lack of sleep, the limited and very poor diet and the endless stress and perfectionism, or if it was Parker on your mind- you didn't know. It would be funny if you told him the thought of him actually made you sick.
But that would tell him that you thought about him. And you couldn't have that.
You were winning. You had to stay winning.
You dragged yourself from the mirror, slamming the laptop shut before you let out a deep sigh. It was as if the weight had lifted, just a smidge from your shoulders, but there was still the pressure of nerves.
You had to win this. Winning this meant a free week at an all inclusive resort in Mexico, with a guest of your choosing. You needed a heavy handed pina coloita, and a beach with clear waters more than anything after this year.
If you lost that… if you lost that to Parker…
You shook your head, trying to rid the cobwebs of dread and anxiety that coated your mind. You were free, for now, at least. In a few days, you’d present your research. The next week, you’d have plane tickets to Mexico in your hand.
Tomorrow, you’d go to a cafe with your best friend Gwen, buy nine dollar iced vanilla lattes and check out a new antique store you’d been dying to explore.
It was going to be a good day.
And for now, you had to just focus on taking the days, one at a time. And not think about Peter Parker, and that charming, smug smirk.
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The nerves had threatened to consume you alive a week ago.
They started to slither their way back to the surface as you tried to enjoy your much deserved break from school work.
It had been nearly seven days on the dot since you had presented your findings, Dr. Banner silently cheering you on from the back corner of the room, which was much needed, a contrast from the cool and collected looks of the committee staring at you as you presented.
You had worn black that day, knowing it would save you from the embarrassment of visible sweat stains, thank god. You had even traded your three espresso shots for a measly one and a half, knowing it would churn with the nerves in your stomach and possibly make you a jittery, vomiting mess in front of everyone.
All and all, it had gone as well as you thought it could go. Dr. Banner thought so at least. Not even the sight of Parker could break your stride as you left the little meeting room, his eyes being the first thing that met your gaze as you left.
He was the most attractive man you had ever laid eyes on.
And that pissed you off even more.
How’d it go bunny? He had asked, a twinkle in his eye as he took you in.
You refused to let yourself curl inwards as much as you wanted to, it was something you would not allow in his presence. Your eyes had rolled at the pet name he had refused to drop, despite your countless requests to drop it.
You were not a bunny. You were not his bunny.
“Excellent. Break a leg Parker.” You had snapped, brushing past him, the smell of his husky cologne choking you. He sucked the air out of every room and hallway he was in, not just because of his larger size, but because he was just that much of a cocky prick.
You almost guaranteed he had called every girl something sweet to get into their pants.
Over your dead body you’d ever be one of them, the rake.
He chuckled at your comment, knowing you meant it literally. You never filtered yourself around him.
“That mouth’s gonna get you in trouble someday bun.” he called as you walked away, turning the corner before you could let yourself react. He did not ruin the perfect, checking items off your list day.
And he wouldn't ruin it today.
In a week, you’d know if you had scored two tickets to Mexico, and the excitement mixed with anxiety made you want to stay curled up in bed, under twenty blankets. You squeezed your knees into your chest, attempting to take deep breaths, though they came out shaky.
You had to pull yourself together, rip it off like a bandaid. Tune everything else out, make everything into a list.
You pulled yourself out of your tangled position, reaching for a notebook you always kept handy at your bedside table, for exactly this reason.
All that could be heard was your shaky breaths, the loud hum of the wonky AC you begged your landlord to look at for the last month, and your pen scribbling on the page so hard you thought it would rip.
1. Put on an outfit
2. Fix my hair
3. Make my bed
4. Fill up water bottle
5. Check the stove is turned off
6. Subway
7. Find out if I did all that work for nothing (I don't care about the ‘experience’)
8. Start making my packing list with Gwen, or drink myself sick in sadness
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You arrived with five minutes to spare, and you had cursed everyone in existence for your lateness.
You scrambled to try and fix your hair before stepping inside, but it was no use. The wind was picking up, despite spring being in full swing. If you had spent less time panicking, and picking your outfit, you honestly could've used the walk.
Maybe then you would've avoided the subway delay, and the hundreds of people that lacked spacial awareness to move out of the way, rather than standing around in congested herds.
Shaking the past from your mind, there was no use in dwelling on the what-ifs now, you carried yourself forward, headstrong and confident through the doors.
You would win this.
If you told yourself that enough times, maybe it would come true.
You blinked to adjust to the flickering buzz of the fluorescent lights as you stepped inside the older building, making your way up the stairs to the same conference room you had entered a week earlier. You followed the low mumbling voices, surprised there were only a handful of people hanging around the doorway.
Had the other students already gone inside? Or had they been eliminated already?
You rubbed your hands subtly on your skirt before fidgeting again with the rings on your fingers, before an older woman directed her attention to you. Her face lit up.
“Ah Miss. Y/L/N. Right on time. Come on in and we’ll get started.”
You swallowed, trying to plaster a smile on your face despite it most likely looking something like a grimace as you stepped past some people to make your way inside.
All that waited for you was empty chairs- almost, all empty.
Peter sat at the desk that faced the dozens of other chairs,his long legs brushing the chair you assumed was yours. You avoided his gaze as you sat, smoothing out the wrinkles in your skirt before folding them neatly in your lap.
“Not even a hello? I’m hurt, bunny.”
“Not now Parker.” you bit out, not sparing him a glance as everyone sat in their seats.
“You’re late, you know. I was beginning to get worried.”
That was the straw that broke the camel's back.
“I was not late, and you are so self absorbed and lack the human decency to worry for anyone but yourself. I could be skinned alive in front of a live audience, and you would be at the concession stand.” you snarled, earning a chuckle out of him.
The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
“Are we set to begin Miss. Y/L/N?”
You felt heat rise across your body as you quickly averted your eyes, trying to fix a smile on your face. “Yes ma’am. I apologize."
“Good. So to begin, we all want to thank you both for your hard work, time and dedication with your work. Both of you should be proud of your hard work.”
You nodded, trying to seem engaged as she droned on about academic honours and such. You needed her to get on with it. Your attention started to wane, zoning in as soon as she grabbed her score sheets from last week.
“It was extremely tough to decide who to give this award to. Your scores were identical. Both of you are tied for first.”
You closed your eyes, clenching your fists and started to pray for a genie to come in, and give you three wishes.
This could not be happening.
“You both scored a 97. That is something you should each be extremely proud of. Therefore, you both are winners.”
Yes, yes she had said that already! Jesus fucking Christ woman…
“Does that mean we rock paper scissors to see who wins?” you asked, eyebrow raised as you shifted your gaze to look at Peter.
“I always throw a rock, but I’m sure I could mix it up this time with paper.”
“Well don't give away your tricks now.” he muttered under his breath.
He was calm and collected, as he always was.
Why the hell wasn't he concerned about this?
“As fun as that would be, we collectively agree it is not fair to give someone the pair of tickets, rather than the other. So, for the first time in the history of this competition, you will each be receiving one ticket.”
Your eyes widened. Oh. Fuck.
“Oh?” you sputtered, feeling Peters stare on the side of your face as you collected yourself.
Everyone was smiling. You felt like smacking your head off the table in front of you repeatedly, until you were unconscious and blood coated the walls.
“Congratulations you two! Start planning matching outfits. We will send all the details to your emails within the next few days.” Someone said, who you couldn't focus on, as your head was buzzing so loud it was as if mosquitoes had swarmed your ears.
You felt dizzy.
All this work, the effort and countless nights you had put into this project.
And you were to share the celebration with Peter fucking Parker.
Your arch nemesis.
The universe had played some sick, cruel, twisted joke on you, pointing down from above and laughing so hard the earth had begun to shake. Chair legs began to push against the tile, squeaking as a steady buzz of chatter hummed in the room, and yet you felt frozen in your seat.
“Matching outfits eh? What do you think, pineapple, or Hawaiian button- ups?” Peter's teasing voice broke you from your spell, making the room come back into focus, and then some.
It was too loud, too hot, too much.
And he made everything worse. He always made everything worse.
“I cannot believe this. I cannot believe you.” You pointed, shooting up from your seat- your eyes sharp enough to stab daggers into his chest. Steam might as well have been spewing from your ears.
He was hazed over in a paintbrush stroke of red, anger clouding your vision. He swallowed every single frame of vision you had, whenever he was in a room.
This time, it was no different. He threw his hands up in mock defense.
“Congrats to you too bunny. We’ll be in touch soon, I’m sure.” was all he said, and you couldve sworn a sliver of hurt was etched across his features, before it had adjusted itself back into the cool, calm and collected nature he displayed so well: with that taunting smile, those stupid fucking dimples appearing as he brushed past you, too close to be anything friendly.
You heard his name called by someone, another voice calling yours to talk more about where you had landed marks, and where the three had been taken off.
You didn't care anymore.
You just needed to call Gwen, and tell her about the nightmare that had just taken place, in real time.
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It had been two weeks and you still could not get the last conversation with Peter out of your head.
You had gotten everything out of your system, when you were out at the bar with your friends, when you had started packing your bag while on the phone with your mom, and now in the car as Gwen drove you to your terminal.
“I wanted to go with you so bad Gweny.” you sighed, looking longingly out the window as the rain pattered down. There was no point lingering on the past now, you knew that. You had psychoanalyzed the whole situation to a tee, including Peter's reaction.
You don't know why that little flash of emotion had stuck with you so much.
Was it the fact you were the one who had cracked his facade? Or was it just suppressed joy that your harsh words had landed their blow as intended?
You hadn't seen him since that moment in the room, and it wasn't exactly like you wanted to seek him out. What were you going to do, apologise? You had meant what you said, and he needed to hear it.
You had to stand your ground, and you were going to continue to show him, and others- for that matter that you weren't one to be walked all over.
“I know babe, but its okay! WIth all the juicy drama deets I’ll get, it will make me feel like I’m right there with you.” she laughed as you rolled your eyes. “There won't be any updates because as soon as we land I am getting as far away from Parker as I can get.”
She sighed, watching the wipers move back and forth, the traffic pretty well at a standstill. “I’m sure it will be a fantaboluis love story for the ages. The one bed trope, enemies to lovers and all.”
“If that's the case I’m drowning myself in the ocean.” you snorted, popping a gummy-bear in your mouth.
Traveling made you nervous, which made you snacky, and somehow, hangry at the same time.
“You know, my dad has been thinking about another vacy soon. Would you want to come back to Mexico together?” she asked, reaching over to squeeze your hand, noticing you had begun to fidget.
Gwen's parents were quite wealthy, and something like a week long Mexico trip was pocket change to them. Still, it didn't make her offer any less meaningful.
“That would be awesome Gweny. I’d love to. I’m sorry again about this all not working out..” you sighed, admiring her freshly manicured fingernails.
They were sparkly and long, compared to yours, which were torn up and chewed from anxiety. You cursed yourself for not stopping your nervous tics, the skin around your nails all bloody and scratched. You picked at your skin, your nails, your lips.
And it was ten times worse this week, for obvious reasons.
Still, you had at least tried, painting them a bright, summery colour. You tried to stray from anything dull and flat for this trip, focusing more on bright colours and fun patterns. You had a whole compartment in your suitcase just for whimsical jewellery and hair pieces you couldn't wait to play around with.
You tried to hold onto that as Gwen found a spot to briefly park, close to the automatic doors that allowed the chill and crisp breeze inside.
“Dont you dare apologize! It’s going to be great. I promise. Pinky.”
She stuck out her pinky, and you couldn't help but let yours entangle in that security of oath.
“If you say so.” You sighed, sad to leave her side, as you stepped out of the car, pulling up your hood before you started to grab your bags from the trunk.
The warm smell of florals clouded your senses as she wrapped you in a warm embrace, not caring the rain was spilling down into her seat, her door slightly ajar.
“Be safe. And remember this is a vacation. It's supposed to be fun. Let yourself have that, babe.”
“I love you.” was all you could whisper, trying not to cry.
It was only a week. A week, seven days, you kept telling yourself.
You blamed it on the nerves, and the fact you hadn't traveled alone before. And the fact you got homesick. And because you were going to be on a four hour flight crammed next to Peter Parker.
“I love you too. Next time.” she smiled, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Send me pictures! Love youuu!!” she blew kisses as she got back into the driver's seat, speeding off into the rainfall, as you waved- knowing she’d spot you in her rearview.
You collected yourself, hastily scrambling to get inside before your shoes soaked from the inside out, when you bumped into something hard and solid.
A flannel you knew all too well was what you grabbed onto to steady yourself, looking up to see your walking nightmare staring back at you.
You quickly regained your composure, shrugging him off as you took off your coat, praying you didn't look like a drowned rat when he looked like… well, that.
The backwards baseball cap and watch that adorned his veiny arms really was doing something wonderful for him. You hated it.
“Well that was a very sappy, romantic goodbye. I almost shed a tear.”
“You had nothing better to do than to watch me say goodbye, like a pervert? Do you always just watch women do mundane things and make snarky comments about it?”
“Sometimes.” He shrugged, and you fought the urge to run his feet over with your suitcase wheels.
“You couldn't have been useful and I don't know, maybe checked in?”
“I wanted to wait for you.”
“Oh so this is a bonding exercise.”
“Would you like it to be? I can get really personal if you want me to, bunny.”
You turned away, heading towards the check in desk. Wanting to get this over and done with, because the nerves had started to claw their way back up, not hindering due to Peter's stupid banter.
“I can be anything you want me to be.”
“I want you to be quiet and check in your bag.” You snapped, turning and almost causing another crash between the two of you again.
He was getting under your skin already. You needed to calm down, and get a grip.
“Noted.” he nodded, grabbing your bag, rolling it over to get your luggage tags. There was nothing but silence between the two of you as you each scanned your passports, letting the machine whirl and print out passes, before silently putting them on your bags. He grabbed your suitcase before you could protest, heading off to the desk.
You huffed in annoyance, hating when others did things for you without asking. Did he not think you were capable of weighing your goddamn luggage?
A loud laugh echoed from his direction, the airline worker beaming from ear to ear at a joke he must have made. She looked love-whipped, and you pitied her. So many girls looked at him in the same way, like a newly fostered puppy.
What effect did he have on people, and why did it not work on you?
You shook the thought from your head, because if anything you should be thankful his charms didn't work on you. The last thing you needed was to be a fly in his spiderweb entrapment. He would eat you alive, if you let him get close enough.
After what felt like forever, he finally made his way back to you, a look of achievement on his face as the lady at the desk watched his every move, whispering to her coworker beside her.
“All good. Security?”
“Oh, you didn't want to eat her face off first?”
He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. You tried not to look at his biceps.
And failed.
“What makes you think that?”
“Maybe because she looks like she wants to eat yours?”
He laughed.
“What?” you said, annoyed beyond belief. This trip was going to be a lot more difficult than you thought it would be. And you hadn't even gone through security yet.
Oh brother.
“Are you… jealous?”
Your eyes widened, heart skipping a beat. Did you sound jealous? Oh god. This was bad.
“No! Of course not. I’m pissed off you took your sweet time.”
“Our flight isn't for another two hours. Are you seriously worried about being late to sit in chairs and people watch?”
“Yes.” you grumbled, adjusting your carry on bag on your shoulder, fidgeting with the strap anxiously. He didn't know of your travel anxiety, or more so your overall general anxiety, not that you expected him to or planned to inform him of such info.
Everything tended to make you a little anxious, but crowds, airports and overall travelling made you super anxious. It was the last place anyone wanted to be at, of course- and the nervous energy that hung in the air like a thick cloud made you feel queasy.
What if something happened, where you were late to the flight? What if you had troubles at security and they thought you had a bomb and pulled you aside for a five hour long interrogation? What if the flight was delayed? What if you were sick…
“Hey? Helloooo bunny?” Peter waved a hand in front of your face, snapping you out of your dazed trance.
”I was just kidding bunny. I’m sorry I took longer than expected. She had a lot of... personal questions.”
“Of course she did. Lets just get this over with.” you mumbled, trying to ignore the fact he had actually apoglized to you. That had to be a first, possibly ever, for him to do to anyone.
Once the hard part was over (no secret bombs on you, as expected), you followed your airport routine checklist to keep you grounded as you waited for the flight.
1. Find your gate
2. Grab a much needed caffeinated beverage (why was the flight so god damn early?!)
3. Grab snacks for plane
4. Fill up your water and use the bathroom as many times as needed once it was scouted out
5. Wait at your gate
As the minutes grew closer to boarding time, you began to get more anxious, and it had gotten to the point Peter had for sure noticed it. Your very visible leg bouncing and constant surveillance of the gate was noticeable to anyone who had eyes, really.
“You okay?” he finally asked, breaking the silence between you two. You nodded, barely registering what he said. You just wanted this over with. To be in sweet and sunny Mexico, away from the large crowds, the loud noise, the constant movement and rush.
“You sure? Because you look like you're two seconds away from becoming Twitchy the squirrel. Was that second coffee needed?”
“I’m going to punch you.”
“Oh so she speaks. Finally.”
You sighed. “I just… really hate airports okay? Sorry.”
You turned to meet his gaze, and you could've sworn something like sympathy was reflected back at you.
“What about them do you not like, if you don't mind me asking?”
“Everything.”
He nodded. “Makes sense.”
And that was that.
When it was finally time for you to board, you practically leapt out of your seat, headphones nearly sliding off your head from the force. You felt yourself shut down again as you both made your way onto the jet bridge, but you knew it was the exhaustion heavy in your bones from the constant stress.
You prayed you would be able to get a wink of sleep on the plane, but that would be unlikely. It was only once you were both seated, the plane starting to make its way down the runway you felt yourself trying to speak again.
Your tongue felt thick, your mouth filled with invisible, weighted sand. You needed a distraction during this takeoff, or else you would have an anxiety attack in the bathroom, no matter how many flight attendants yelled at you to take your seat.
You needed Peter Parker to say something.
Anything. And thats how you knew you were completely and utterly fucked.
“I think we may be lucky this time if the plane crashes.” he muttered, making you tense up even more.
Okay, maybe you didnt need him to speak anymore.
“What on earth could you possibly mean?” you gritted out between clenched teeth, your hands wrung in your lap.
“I mean we definitely have a doctor on board. I think I also saw a guy from the military. And I know the girl we passed two aisles ahead is a therapist.”
“How on gods green earth do you know that?” Your legs began to bounce as you felt yourself starting to leave the ground, tilted up on an angle.
“I saw her reading some fancy book. And she has the glasses they all wear.”
“And we’re talking about this because…?”
“Its good to be prepared. Or its just a game you can play.”
You sighed, your hand instinctively reaching for Peters as you started to soar, pinching your eyes shut.
His hand was warm and soft, enveloping yours with a gentle squeeze on reassurance.
“Do you think the therapist could help me with you?” you asked, not fully grasping the situation at play. The fact you were holding onto Peter's hand for dear life, and the fact he was letting you squeeze his hands so hard his bones were sure to ache afterwards.
“I think you’ll be needing my assistance if we end up stranded on an island.”
“To attract bait?”
“Exactly.” he smiled, looking down to where your hands were intertwined.
You quickly adjusted yourself, flustered as you settled back into your seat, in hands and arms in your own arm rests.
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. Just shrugged.
“I’ll keep my hands to myself now.” you quickly looked away, smoothing the wrinkles in your sweatpants as you stumbled over a one sided conversation.
This was weird. You were making this weird.
“You don't have to.” he murmured, before slipping on his headphones and shutting his eyes as he leaned back in his seat.
Conversation done. Ended.
So why in the hell were you slightly upset at that, when all you wanted for him was to shut up?
It was nerves. It was just nerves, and this flying day was making you antsy.
Of course you wanted the distraction to continue. But instead of making another scene, you tried to do the same- by shutting your eyes and trying to make yourself comfortable (never going to happen).
You gave up and started making a list of things for when you landed.
1. Grab carry on
2. Unboard the plane
3. Grab luggage from correct area
4. Find your driver
5. Triple check th-
“Wake me when they come by with snacks please n thank you bunny.” a featherlight whisper tickled the hairs on your neck as he adjusted himself back in his seat, hands folded in his lap as he drifted off.
Leaving you alone with endless depths of worry that pooled in your mind.
🌊⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°🫧 🌊⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°🫧
You couldn't fully let the tension out of your shoulders until you were within the safe confines of your room at the resort, your bags dropped and your shoes kicked off.
The tile was cool against them, the air conditioning humming steadily in the background.
It was a beautiful resort.
Nothing within your tax bracket, to say the least. Though everything seemed to be as a broke university student.
Everything had been smooth from exiting the plane, your bags were a) boarded on the correct plane, and b) were not lost or damaged (though it always too forever for them to emerge from the plane, which made you think the worst of the worst happened).
Peter had continued his endless jests on the drive over, and they refused to cease until you had practically shut the door in his face. Not even the warm towel and complementary drink when you arrived shut him up (though why were there warm towels in Mexico)?
But now you were here, you were alive in one piece.
You had survived the travel day, and once your suitcase was unpacked, because of course- you couldn't possibly think of resting until that was done and you had changed out of your dirty outside clothes, you could plop down on that comfy looking bed and doze… wait.
An anomaly broke you from your peaceful moment, as you observed a door.
A door that led directly to Peter's room.
Oh fuck.
You quickly ran over to it, locking it firmly. Not that you thought he would barge in unannounced, but Jesus you felt better with it secured.
Of course it was like this, because why would it not be? You were a shared party, so it made sense there would be a shared door. Still…
You sighed, closing your eyes as you leaned against the wood, trying to ground yourself. You were just overly tired and emotional from the long day, you couldn't let these little, insignificant things get to you.
Plus, it could be a benefit if there was an intruder. You could just lead them right to his room instead.
For now, you had to focus on what you could control, aka oragnizing.
You got to work, letting your mind carry you away before you heard three quick raps on your door. Your other, door.
You frowned, quickly unlocking your shared door, wondering why the hell he was choosing to abuse this method of annoying you.
It was truly cruel. You werent even this low.
“What?!”
“Dinner time.” was all he said, inviting himself in.
“Uhm,come on in?”
He beamed from ear to ear, that little dimple appearing like an old friend, always showing when he knew he truly got under your skin.
“Damn you’ve unpacked?”
“You havent?”
He shrugged, spinning around to get a glimpse of your room. “The same as yours, I imagine.” you grumbled, stomping off to the bathroom, for no reason other to get rid of him.
“No one really unpacks on vacation bunny. Anyone who told you that was a liar.”
“I like my things the way I like my things.” was all you said as you grabbed your makeup bag, trying to fix your mascara.
“You sure do like your things…” he muttered, making you scoff.
Now it was two in the mirrors reflection, and you wanted to turn around and stab him with the wand. “Why are you here Peter? I’m busy.”
“Telling you it’s dinner time and we should go.” he said, leaning against the doorframe like some kind of book boyfriend. All tall and broading, swallowing the frame as he crossed his arms, biceps bulging against his crisp white button down.
He needed to get a grip.
“Okay first off there is no universally set dinner time. I know people who eat at 9 o’clock, thank you very much.”
He just raised an eyebrow. “And secondly, why do you not get the hint?”
“Am I not allowed to watch you do a simple task?”
“No.”
He scoffed. “You wound me.”
“Good. I’ll stab this mascara wand in your eye.”
“That is surprisingly very arousing.” he commented, making you whip around in disbelief.
“I suppose anything you do is though. Even when violent.”
“Peter.”
“Fiesty.”
“Get. Out. Please.” you gritted between clenched teeth. You had to fix your hair and get dressed before you could make an appearance at dinner, and if he argued about staying for that, they’d find a body and a note.
He thew his hands up in mock surrender as he moved away from the doorframe, disappearing from your view. It was only when you heard a door open and shut you could feel your chest sag, the air whooshing out of your lungs.
You fixed yourself, slipping on a dress Gwen picked out for you. Gwen.
You quickly shot her another text, telling her every last detail that occurred over the last five minutes. Tossing your phone on your bed, you gathered your wits about you before you opened the door- your door, to yet again be met with Peter's broad chest, which you almost ran directly into.
“Shall we go?” was all he asked. You couldn't even get a response out, shocked at the mere audacity. To be fair, his headstrong attitude was quite attractive, even if it was just to piss you off.
But you tried to not mix the words “Peter Parker” and “attractive” together, even though you repeatedly failed. It was like Pavlov's dog with the bell. How could you not slightly salivate when he looked like that?
But it was his damn attitude.
And you hated him, you reminded yourself as you trailed slightly in front of him, letting your hips dramatically sway as you made your way to the main buffet.
“I got us a reservation at one of the nicer sports here.” he said, his words guiding you in the opposite direction of the original plan.
“What if I said no, I’m not going to dinner with you?”
“Well you did say that. And now here we are. I can be persuasive.”
“You can be a real pain in the ass.” you snapped, falling back to meet his long strides, as he was now the one in charge.
Clearly.
He gave you no more details, so you had no choice but to follow him. It was nice honestly to not have to plan for once. But it still made you uneasy.
“I think you like me, sometimes.” he shrugged, a smirk growing on his face at your clear annoyance and disbelief at his audacity.
“I can tolerate you.”
“I can handle tolerate.” He guided you with a warm, calloused palm on the lower of your back, into a dimly lit restaurant, tables flickering with candles, illuminating the dozens of roses scattered among the premises.
It was beautiful. Far out of your wallets reach.
A glass of wine was poured into your glass as you sat down, curtsy of the house. Whatever that meant.
You basked in the silence, the murmured chatter of the tables around you, filled with couples. You felt like a sore thumb. But the way Peter was currently looking at you, made you feel as if you fit right in.
He looked at you like you were his.
And you liked it. You hated that you liked it.
“Why so fancy?”
He shrugged. “It was the best I could give you.”
An eyebrow perched to your forehead at his statement. “You do not like me.”
“I never once said, or implied that bunny.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes-”
“Are we seriously going to bicker back and forth like children on vacation?” he asked, amused with a tinge of annoyance laced in.
“Yes.”
“Jesus I need a drink.” he laughed, raising his glass to yours.
A truce. “Amen to that.”
⋆.ೃ࿔🌸*:･⋆.ೃ࿔🌸*:･⋆.ೃ࿔🌸*:･
Peter was a sensible man.
At least he thought he was.
He tried to be smart, but with you, he seemed to turn stupid.
You made him excited and eager to engage in whatever it was you two were playing. He yearned to figure you out, you were a puzzle stuck in his mind, one he wanted to unwind like a rubrics cube.
How he could find someone so attractive was beyond him.
He hadn't met anyone before, who had made him this stupid.
This need for attention, only from one person. And now, that need to figure you out had changed course to figure out how to get you back to your room without you vomiting everywhere.
Dinner had been fun. He never figured that would be possible with your instant bickering, but the two of you had settled on something of a truce.
He had suggested dropping any hard feelings, just for the week. Friends, or something of the sort. Not that he had any hard feelings to begin with, and not that he wanted to be friends. The word almost pained him to say.
But it was better than the annoyed glances you spared him, mixed with hints of attraction.
He had to embrace those longing gazes you gave him when you thought he didn't notice, because confronting that without a hint of sarcasm in his voice would likely scare you away.
“Am I scaring you?” you had asked, somehow concerned with his well being as you stumbled back to your room, gripping his arm like it was a teetering life-ring thrown at sea.
He smiled gently, unable to control it around you. “You could never scare me, bunny.”
He didn't know why the nickname had stuck, but it had. You claimed to hate it. But those concerns weren't vocalized now, and hadn't been in a while.
Peter remembered the exact moment he had assigned it to you, the first day you walked into lab, dressed in frilly pinks and whites. Your nose had scrunched at something your friend had said as you two sat down, and it had reminded him of a little baby bunny.
It was adorable. He wasn't sure if you had picked up on the habit, but he refused to spoil it, for fear you'd stop. That, and the constant nail strumming across any hard surface, before you wrung them in your lap, fidgeting with whatever clothing hugged your pretty curves that day.
The way you gripped his arm this time, a painful, nails clawing into skin in warning grip broke him from his trance as he led you closer to the rooms, eager for you to lean on him instead of the walls for support.
“Did we overdo it bunny?”
“No, no I just feel dizzy. And I really, really fucking want Goldfish.” you admitted, fumbling for the room key in your little bag.
He always wondered why women's clothing never had decent, or any pockets, for that matter. It drove him mad, at the mere thought of such inconvenience.
As mentioned, he was a sensible, practical man. You were the smartest person he knew. Maybe you knew the answer.
“Because designers hate women and the whole world hates women.”
“I don't hate women”. he shrugged as you finally pushed your door open, with much more body force then required, stumbling into your air conditioned room, yet the chill did nothing to soothe the pink tinge in his cheeks when he was around you for too long.
“I know you don't. You try to get into their pants and get more benefits on flight packages.” you mumbled into the sheets as you face planted into the bed, causing him to bark out a laugh.
“You’re cute.”
You mumbled something else, too muffled by the sheats to be heard by him. He wanted to help you get comfortable, knowing that it would especially help with any anxiety you'd have, whether it be about organizing, getting an alarm scheduled, even though you were on vacation he was sure that aspect didn't matter…
“Are you going to be okay, bunny?” he asked softly, coming over to the bed to rest a hand on your back.
Your skin was soft and smooth, smelling of vanilla and citrus.
He wanted to bask in it.
“Yes, yes promise. Pinky.” You weakly held up your hand, extending a pinky in offering. He quickly accepted it, wanting nothing more than to touch you, even if it was brief contact.
The promise hummed true in his chest, warming his insides as he slipped from your room, unable to stop looking over his shoulder as he made his way back to the hallway- determined and on a mission.
You were mumbling more nonsense, the sound drowning out in the background as he made his way quickly down the hall, in order to find the nearest convenience store, or something of that establishment within the resort.
He needed to grab you Goldfish, and a nice little drink, like a Gatorade . That always made him feel just a wee bit better when he had thrown back too many beers back in his day (when he actually used to be a serious partier, now he just smoked weed and drank wine with beautiful women aka you).
Even if it was just a placebo effect, he hoped it’d do the same to you when you’d find yourself batting in and out of consciousness, blindly grabbing the nightstand and willing to drink plant water you'd be so parched.
After a few more minutes of looking, he managed to navigate his way around to pick you up everything you needed. He was almost positive you had packed your entire apartment, you were so organized and prepared and he admired that about you.
You were just so smart. It drove him wild.
Jesus Parker okay keep it in your pants until you're back in your room.
With quick haste, he managed to sneak back into your room, through the shared door that was unexpected, but welcomed.
You looked like you had fallen asleep, by the steady sound of your even breaths, and the way your lashes had fluttered against your cheeks. But as he neared, it started to stir.
As if you were excited to see him. Or maybe you just hated him that much.
But if she hated you so much, why does she look at you like that sometimes? Why is she letting you comfort her, when she cannot stand to be aided?
The thought made him smile to himself, and he placed a gentle, soothing touch to your lower back again, just to make himself known.
“I’m not sure if you're awake or not my love.” he murmured softly, knowing damn well you were. “But I brought you some treats, including some Goldfish.”
He placed down your snacks, drink and various over the counter meds that helped him when he was under the weather. Additionally, he placed a chilled washcloth down, one he had brought from his room.
He felt guilty going around your room when you weren't fully awake and alert. It didn't feel right to him, even if it meant only grabbing a mere washcloth.
“I hope you feel better and we can continue this truce tomorrow.” he smiled, placing a kiss to his fingertips before letting them brush the exposed skin of your back, your dress cut and tailored perfectly to reveal your beautiful skin, teasing him for a taste.
Before he could let his mind wander any longer, he wished you goodnight, shutting the door behind him. Letting his hand linger on the knob, he sighed.
Cursed himself.
And after he had stripped naked, pumping himself dry in the shower to the thought of you- the way you laughed when you thought he wasn't around, the little smile you did when you thought he wasn't looking, the way your heartbeat fluttered around him when he was close enough… the little sounds he was sure you’d make, the way you’d look under him…
And he had finished the night by cranking the handle to ice cold, forcing himself to sit in misery until his mind could settle enough for some semblance of sleep.
⋆.ೃ࿔🌸*:･⋆.ೃ࿔🌸*:･⋆.ೃ࿔🌸*:･
My love.
He had called you my love. His love.
It had made your heart kick into overdrive.
It was a silly reaction to something so simple but fuck.
You were fucked.
You were not as drunk, and or hungover as you thought you would be. Your heart nearly melted when you broke from your spell of unconsciousness, noting all the little things he had left you. Including goldfish.
The little bugger was sneaking his way into your heart more than your logical mind could combat it. Maybe it was the lack of academic drive that had you place your guard down, to make this little truce with him.
Maybe it was because you felt you were on equal ground, in the here and now. Maybe it was because you secretly wanted to be truce-like with him, and there were feelings that were hidden that were now being shifted and thrown around like a tsunami when you had somehow managed the storm thus far.
It was terrifying, the way you had let yourself cave in so easily.
Was he that bad?
Yes, yes inner monologue, he was.
And even though a truce had been put in place, thankfully before you had finished that first glass of wine, you still had to be at least semi-cautious.
It was vacation afterall, so you figured it couldn't be the end of the world if things went to shit. You could just leave it all here, and never speak of it again.
But what if it was more? What if you wanted more?
You quickly snatched your phone, texting Gwen a much needed update before you managed to drag yourself out from under the sheets you did not remember putting yourself in, barrelling towards the washroom for a much needed shower, to wash away the icky wine feeling that gave a slight weight in your temples.
The hallway was quiet when you emerged from your room, nothing but the chirp of birds and the breeze swaying the palm tree leaves.
It was beautiful.
The realization that you had made it, you were really here hit you as you made your way down to breakfast, watching the sun rise fully, the sky tinged slightly with pinks and oranges before it gave away to a light blue.
You had made it, and you were free from work.
This was a reward, and a relief.
You had to appreciate the little things, and let yourself indulge just a bit this week. You finally had time to read all the fun fantasy books you had been stockpiling for school to be briefly over, which you could read by the pool and bathe in the sun.
There was nothing you had to do today. And that slightly scared you, but the feeling of relief was that much stronger.
1. Eat breakfast
2. Change into my bathing suit
3. See if Peter wants to hang out
4. Read my book by the pool
5. Possibly ingest a fruity cocktail…
Peter didn't join you for breakfast, the dining hall was rather empty as it was rather early considering everyone was here on vacation. But you enjoyed your food anyways, happy for the peaceful quiet, to get your thoughts in order as you nibbled on some fresh cut fruit.
And yet as you continued to eat, you wondered if it would have been nicer to have some company from someone.
Maybe even Peter himself.
🌊⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°🫧 🌊⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°🫧
A day or so later, you made the bold decision to knock on Peter's door, and invite him for breakfast. Part of you wished you hadn't, because whenever you were around him, your body seemed to betray you.
You were in tune with it now.
You refused to ignore it any longer, as much as the deceptive part of your brain tried to tell you otherwise. Your breathing quickened, your heart rate sped up, your skin grew hot, not just from the warming sun. It was vulnerable, and you didn't like it one bit.
You prayed he didn't notice your longing glances when he wasn't looking, conversing with another, or merely distracted.
You wanted to study him, his mannerisms, the outlines of his muscles, the defining ridges of his cheekbones…
“Bunny? Your move.” his gentle voice broke you from your trance,leaving you blinking at him stupidly.
Fool. You were a damn fool of a Took.
Over the last two hours, he had tried to teach you the rules of chess. It wasn't something you always wanted to learn, and now that you had all the time in the world (and a master of chess to teach you), why not learn?
Because you can't even focus on the fucking rules, you just focus on his face which makes you look like a love stricken idiot.
You cleared your throat, fingers hovering over your side of the board as you tried to remember what each piece did.
“This is hopeless.” you sighed, placing your head in your hands. His laughter made your heart sing, a steady melody against the ocean lapping at the sand of the private beach.
He had managed to score you two a cabana, and how- you didn't know. All you knew was it was a perfect place to learn chess. And you were failing, miserably.
“It's okay bunny, it takes time. I didn't understand this for days.”
“It's been days!”
“It's been two hours.”
You sighed. “I should've stuck with my books. They're much nicer than this.”
“You can get back to your fictional boyfriends soon, I promise. I’ll even buy you an iced latte if you win.” his eyes sparkled with amusement, knowing that was one of your weaknesses.
“With-”
“With vanilla and oat milk. Promise.”
“Pinky? That's law.”
“Pinky.” he wove his pinky with yours, letting his hand fall and caressing your bare thigh gently.
“Remeber the knight is in a L-shape.” he noted, pointing to the piece you were caught hovering over. It was at least another hour of this, wanting to make a move, then pandering the million moves you could do, and what he’d do, and what moves even existed for each piece.
He had let you win, smiling as you cheered, hands thrown up in the air in celebration, a cheer loud enough to have the neighbouring cabana peer their head out in alarm.
He hadn't left your side as you read your book (minus grabbing your iced beverage), asking questions about the plot, the characters, what books you liked and wanted to read.
And on top of that, it seemed like he was genuinely interested.
It was becoming harder and harder to hate him. And you hated yourself for it. But it was near impossible to do so when his woodsy cologne engulfed your senses, his touch so soft and gentle, yet filled with teasing and determination as he’d draw shapes with his fingers on your thighs.
His presence was comforting, when once it made you annoyed. But you had never truly given him a chance, and all you had to blame was yourself, and your anxious, closed off tendencies.
🌊⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°🫧 🌊⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°🫧
You had no idea why you had waited here, now, unlike so many other nights.
You believed yourself that you couldn't stand the thought of him, and yet- he had consumed every thought you had this vacation.
You couldn't deny yourself any longer.
The lingering glances you felt on your skin, that caressed your skin like a gentle breeze, despite one being present. The way the air seemed to suck out of your lungs when he passed by you, a gentle hand on your back as he passed by, even if it was to talk to another woman.
Christ you couldn't even think about that.
You had avoided the shared door between your room and his because you feared of hearing another woman in his room would make what you had been trying to hide from yourself come to light.
That you did get jealous. You were jealous at the airport, when the worker had eyed him up like fresh meat. When countless number of girls sunbathing had slipped their sunglasses down to catch a better look, or those who attempted to make small talk with him at the swim up bar, which he happily engaged in.
You didn't want to know if he had found women to warm his bed, even though you had zero claim over him.
And you hated that. You hated the fact you cared. You also hated the fact you had no claim over him.
You let the shoes that dangled in your hand clatter to the floor as you ran a hand over your face, letting yourself feel.
For once in your life, you were going to feel this, to let it swallow you whole and spit you out in its tidal wave. You were not going to shame yourself for how he made you feel, even though you hid it with annoyance and snarky comments
He could see right through you.
You knew he could.
He made you feel cared for and heard, even if you tried to change the topic or shut him down. He made you feel funny, and beautiful, and smart…
He made you feel wanted.
And that was why you wanted him.
Not only because you had two glasses of wine at dinner, and that he was extremely attractive. It was because you had buried this for so long, it had gone through all five stages of grief within the span of this trip.
You didn't want it to end without you and him knowing how you truly felt.
Maybe it was the gentle breeze that pushed you forward through the opened windows, or the hum of excitement in your chest that made you want to surge yourself on, you didn't know. You just knew you needed to see him, now.
You wanted to take up on his offer, no matter how much teasing had been in his tone when he suggested you come over through the door to visit whenever you wanted.
And you were going to let yourself have this.
You were tired of fighting it any longer, and you didn't know if you were thinking rationally. If you wanted it to stay in Mexico, it could.
But you didn't think you wanted it to.
Which is what drove you to rapt your knuckles three times on the wood, the sharp inhale you took so quick it made stars appear in your vision.
A muffled, “come in” allowed you to slowly turn the handle, easing yourself through the crack to peer into his room. It mirrored yours, but his sheets were ruffled, his body now turned towards you- but you saw the book tossed half hazrdly on the bed.
His glasses slid down his nose slightly, he adjusted them, a small smile on his face as he took you in, still in your little dress from dinner.
“I’m sorry, were you reading?”
He nodded. “Come in bunny. I told you to come whenever, did I not?”
“Even when its reading time before bed, grandpa?” you giggled, making him roll his eyes, the veins in his arms gleaming in the soft bedside light as he crossed his arms.
You felt your breath hitch, your heartbeat start to kick up and hum like a war horse whenever you allowed yourself to enjoy him for too long. When you started to really feel the effect he had on you, individually- rather than just that overarching effect of fuzziness.
“You wound me.”
You slipped inside, shutting the door behind you as you plopped beside him in bed, falling back into the sheets with a huff.
”You look beautiful, bunny.”
You felt your skin heat, tingles erupting over you as your nipples tightened, thighs clamming together as his molten hot gaze swept over you, taking his sweet time.
He feasted with his eyes, voice low and throaty as if he had just woken from a dream. As if he were truly admiring you.
You realized then how crazy you looked, hair messy, makeup old and probably slightly smudged, your dress hugging you tightly, but probably revealing more skin then intended from the angle he was at as he looked down on you.
You bit your cheeks, eyes quickly moving away from his, before it became too much.
“Thank you. I figured you’d be out longer, with everyone else around the fires.”
He shrugged. “I like my down time. I could say the same about you.”
“Same here.” you said quietly, realizing you knew less about him then you thought.
For the amount of time you spent around him, you had made a lot of unfair assumptions. Like he would have different women in his bed every other night, or would be drinking until 4am everynight, as a frat boy would.
“Do you feel weird about that, sometimes?” he asked, reaching over, as if he were going to brush your cheek. He hesitated, hovering over your soft skin, eyes meeting yours to ask a silent question.
You nodded, and his finger came down to softly stroke your skin, twirling around a strand of your hair that had fallen out of place. “So many questions.” you teased, making him blush.
You liked making him blush. You liked it a lot.
But you also enjoyed how many questions he asked, because it meant he was genuinely interested in what you had to say.
“Sometimes I do, because I know we’re in school and the whole thing is that we should be ‘living it up’” you scoffed.
“But I’m at peace with myself and knowing what I like and what regulates me into the same as other people my age. I don't care about fitting in, I just… I guess I just like what I like.”
He nodded. “You’re being kind to yourself. That's good. For a minute I worried you laclked any kind bone in your body.” he teased, and you smacked him playfully.
“I’m trying to be.”
“Thats all you can do.”
You adjusted yourself, turning so you faced him on your side, as he adjusted himself to do the same. As if you were at a sleepover, trying to keep quiet so your mom wouldnt wake up and shush you both to sleep.
“That was a good answer, by the way. I’m the same way.”
“I am glad to hear that. I am also glad we share the same passion for Dorian Gray.” you smiled, taking note of the frayed, and very loved book that sat close to your head.
“But you didn't come here to discuss Dorans cruelty, did you?” he asked, tugging on the strand gently, before dropping it.
You wanted his touch back. You reached for his arm, your nail trailing his bicep as you drew little patterns, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“No.” you sighed. His eyebrow raised, expecting you to elaborate.
“Well?”
“You did say I was welcome in here at any time.”
“This is true. But why are you taking up on my offer now?” he murmured, capturing your hand with his, bringing your knuckles to his lips, his kiss feather light as you felt your breath catch.
“Am I not allowed to actually take you up on offers you give out?” you asked playfully, knowing he would extract the information out of you eventually.
You sighed. “I came to confess.”
“Your undying love for me?”
“Something like that.”
Your answer stopped him short. He wasnt expecting that.
“I like you Parker. Like, I like-like you.”
“You like-like me? What are we, in middle school?” he laughed, in a way you knew he wasn't teasing you, but was just surpised.
“I just-”
“I like-like you too, bunny. But I have to say, I’m surpised to hear it’s mutual, with all the snappy remrks that have been stabed into my chest.”
“I’m sorry.” you looked down, feeling bad for how your cruel remarks must have gotten under his skin over the years.
Yet, he still managed to look at you as a work of art, and take up the challenge of going head to head with your banters. “I have never once taken it personally. I know it's just your way of…expressing your feelings.”
“My feelings?!”
“You tease and taunt because you wish for nothing more than for me to put you in your place. Is that not it?” he asked, his fingers slipping back to cradle your chin, thumb teasing your lower lip.
If it weren't for the truth in that statement, you’d shame him for being so outrageously cocky.
“Bold of you to assume that.”
He smirked. “I know. But you’ve seen the way I’ve looked at you. I have to be bold with you, bunny. I’d lose all my senses if I told you how I’ve felt.”
He paused. “What do you see when I look at you?”
“Desire. Admiration.” you confessed.
It was how you wished he would look at you. You had projected that onto your shared moments of silence longing looks. He tilted his head, studying you as he always did in those moments.
“So you see, I have to be bold- to get you to see those moments. How I feel, how I’ve always felt. You are so beautiful, Y/N. So beautiful it hurts to not have you. To share those secret moments together, all the time, because if I am not bold, I do not get to continue our little exchanges. To hear your laugh, or those smart comments. Because I do not want to scare you away.” he confessed, and you felt your eyes start to well with salty tears.
You refused to cry, blinking your lashes rapidly, but his words were so tender it hurt.
“So yes, I want to put you in your place. I want you to do the same. I want the push and pull, and I only want it with you.”
You were stunned into silence. Yet another thing you underestimated, his way with words.
He gave you a second to catch yourself from free falling down the cliff of emotions, all of them churning in your stomach and making you warm.
Sensitive.
A heat settled between your thighs, pooling like honey.
His eyes searched for something in yours, a confirmation and a blessing. You nodded before your mouth could catch up to you, clearly your throat- words becoming stuck.
“Do you want the same?”
“Yes.” you said, so gently it came out as a throaty whisper.
There was no turning back now. But it wasn't the feeling of shame that coated you so thoroughly- it was want.
It was need.
His thumb captured your bottom lip again, the smell of his cologne intoxicating as he inched closer, eyes searching yours for permission.
You nodded, feverishly. “Please.”
A low groan left his throat at the word, his lips capturing yours delicately at first, then something rougher, passion driving you to lean into his body until it was flush with yours, rolling on top of his much larger frame to cage him.
“You never have to beg with me. Never.” he growled, sending jolts of energy as his hands began to wander, slipping from your hips to cup ass, drawing you flush against his hardened cock that fought against his shorts.
You moaned, his mouth swallowing the sound as his tongue begged for entrance, which you happily granted. You shifted down, needing the friction as his hand guided you, letting you take and give as you pleased.
It became hot and messy, teeth clashing as he bit down on your lower lip, hand coming up to grip your hair, tilting your head the way he wanted to taste you, truly.
Nothing but breathy moans and pants could be heard as you grinded against him,letting his lips wander down your neck, where he bit down on the skin, the sharpness of his bite making you jump.
“I think I’ve found the sensitive spot.” he murmured against your skin, licking the little mark left to soothe the skin.
“Don't tease.”
“Oh I wouldn't dare.” he smiled, planting kisses across your skin until you squirmed against him.
You needed more.
“You are my favourite form of torture.” he whispered as you bucked your hips, his hands sliding down your hips to slip under your sundress, fingers tickling the lace scrap that separated you from his delicate fingers.
“Torture?” you questioned, kissing him gently again.
“It has been torturous to not have you all this time, bunny. Like this. To have seen you in this dress…”
“But I’m here now.” you promised, kissing down his neck as he did to yours, with equal amounts of precision and care, not wanting to leave a single inch of skin untouched.
He groaned, his head sliding back to give you easier access, his adams apple bobbing as you left little marks across the skin.
This was the push and pull you both craved. The little moments of control to then be dominated by the other.
“And I thank every god in the universe for that.” he panted, fingers slipping across the folds of your underwear, slowly parting it to the side as he let a finger drag across your folds, collecting the wetness.
“Is this all for me?” he smiled as you moaned, hips bucking to lean more into his touch.
There goes the control.
“Yeah bunny? You’re such a greedy girl.” he tsked, slowly moving so you were underneath him, a yelp escaping you as he removed his fingers, pulling you like a rag doll so your hips were slightly off the bed.
Before you could wrap your head around what was happening he had tugged your panties off, his fingers resuming their motions as they glided along your slit, before two dipped in, curling that sweet spot that had you seeing stars.
His hands were so much bigger than yours, he fit so nicely and stretched you just right…
“Please don't stop..” you panted, pushing up on your shoulders to watch as his thumb came up to rub little circles on your clit, making your lower half shake.
“What did I say about begging bunny? You never have to beg for me. You want my mouth?”
You nodded. “I wanna hear you say it sweetheart.”
“Yes.”
He smiled, pushing his glasses farther up his nose as he bent down, admiring you as if you were a five star meal. Pulling his fingers out, he brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a mischievous glint in his eye, your lips parted in shock.
It was so dirty and crass it should've disgusted you but all it did was turn you on even more.
“You taste so fuckin sweet.” He came down, tasting you as if he were a man starved, lapping at you with no mercy, his tongue swirling and sucking on your nub.
Hard.
“F-fuck Peter r-right there-”
“So- fuckin-sweet” he panted with each flick of his tongue, his hand slipping up around your thigh to hold you in place as your hips wiggled, the pressure building so tightly in your core it felt like you were uncurling a hot wire.
“I can’t tell how long I’ve waited for this. How many nights I’ve thought about you like this, tasting how sweet you are.” he whispered, his words driving you over the edge.
You came with a cry, his name echoing on your lips as he held you in place, his tongue never stopping as he lapped at your juices, coaxing you through your orgasm.
“There we go, atta girl. Such a good girl for me bunny.”
You shivered, legs starting to shake as he emerged from his kneeling position, towering over you again. You wasted no time to sit yourself up, palming the bulge that was unhideable within his shorts.
He hissed through clenched teeth, head thrown back in pleasure as you touched him. The ridges of his abs were hard against your soft hands, fingernails scraping the happy trail that had tempted you for the last few days.
He was beautiful. So, so beautiful, and for the time being, he was yours.
“If you keep doing that I’m not gonna last bunny.”
“Good.”
He moaned, hand coming up to grab your hair again, tugging on it gently, your neck now angled up to loom into his hungry gaze.
“Do you want this? Truly? Because I don't think- I don't think with you I can control myself if you let me. I’ll take whatever you’ll give me.”
His voice was as rough as granite, Adams apple bobbing with each swallow.
Trying to contain himself. That wouldn't do.
“I want you, Peter. I want you, however you’ll have me.”
That was the snap. His mouth captured yours again, and you tugged his undergarments off as quickly as one could manage with a handsome man on their lips, dominating them.
You found yourself with your back against the sheets, his arm caging you in as the other guided his cock to your entrance, your legs parted and mouth watering in anticipation.
“Can you take this off for me bunny? Show me everything?”
You nodded, letting him aid you in prying the dress over your head, tossed down somewhere on the tile floor. The way he looked you over sent your heart fluttering into overdrive, like prey knowing it was caught by the predator.
He looked at you with such a visceral hunger you knew deep in your soul there was nothing else, no one else he wanted.
“You are so fucking beautiful, my love.” he murmered, sliding the head of his cock between your folds, gathering the wetness that dripped for him.
My love.
“I’m yours.” you blurted out before your brain could let you think it over, before he slowly eased himself in, sending your eyes to roll to the back of your head.
“And you're mine.” he whispered, caging you in completely, planting kisses and nips down the column of your throat, down to your breasts, his tongue swirling and sucking your nipple before moving to the next, giving them equal attention as he eased into you, before you were filled to the hilt.
The stretch was delicious, he consumed you in every way as he was fully seated inside you.
“Is this okay?” he asked gently, and you nodded.
“Words, bunny. Use them.”
“I’m- I’m good Peter.” you confirmed, the air whooshing out of your lungs as he slowly dragged himself half way out before slamming you full again, a loud cry of pleasure leaving your lips.
“I wanna see your pretty little face when you cum, bunny. Wanna hear those beautiful sounds again, they sound just how I thought they would. So, so damn pretty.” he purred, adjusting your legs around him as he found a steady rhythm, the sound of your cries and skin slapping echoing around the room.
His sweet coos and condensation drove you wild as you felt yourself reaching that finish point, before he removed himself fully, slamming into you again.
It drove you fucking wild.
You clenched around him in warning, his noises spurring you on as much as yours did to him.
It was bliss.
“We’ll have endless time for fun my bunny, all the ways I’m gonna have you. You make me so greedy.”
You moaned, gripping his biceps so hard your nails dug into his flesh, threatening to break skin.
“But right now I just wanna have you cum for me. Can you do that for me, my love? I’m right here with you.” he cooed, kissing you softly as you nodded frantically, not able to hold off your organism any longer.
“Peter I’m-”
“There we go my love, that's a good girl. Thats a good- fucking-girl.” he moaned as he spilled inside you, leaving you feeling all warm and fuzzy.
And as he cleaned you up, held you close to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, to trace each curve with a gentle touch and a kiss to follow, you realized you were past the point of saving yourself from Peter Parker.
for you, peter is the literally definition of pretty. his big brown puppy eyes and his perfectly structured face, his lean but muscular built, his cute little pout when you don’t give him a kiss before he goes patrolling.
he is just so so very pretty.
you don't know know how long you have been staring at him for, but he didn't seem to notice. too busy focusing on his science project, and his concentration is very hot.
his long slender fingers moving carefully and slowly to put the pieces together and your attention only zeroed on them. such, such pretty hands.
the weight of your stare was starting to make peter nervous. peter gets flustered very easily. and with you? you didn't even have to try.
peter suddenly put down the components for his project and turned to you, “i know i'm hot but can you please stop staring at me like that?” he mumbled, as a soft blush appear on his face. his tone was confident but you can sense his nervousness.
he tried focusing on his project again as you chuckled, the kind of chuckle that sends tingles all over peter's body, “sorry pete, but you are just so very pretty.”
wow. okay he didn't expect that.
peter chocked on his saliva, his body hot all over, nearly dropping the pieces of his homework.
“baby, you can't just say things like that.” he looked at you, eyes wide and soft. and it makes you grin.
“it's the truth.” you shrugged, “you're my pretty boy.” you know you're testing his limits, but it was fun teasing peter.
peter's mind malfunctioned. he's trying to ignore you, but the way you said my pretty boy is replaying over and over in his head.
“damn it.” he quietly swore, putting down whatever left of his project and turning to you.
your eyebrows rose in a teasing manner as a smirk finds its way to your face. “what?” you innocently asked, but you know exactly what you're doing, and he knows it too.
peter chuckled as he walks to where your laying at the bed. the sound send a shiver up your spine and now you're the one who's nervous.
he leaned closer to you, you could feel his breath on your lips as you both took a moment to admire each other. peter was staring at your eyes to your nose and your soft lips, bringing his eyes to connect with yours again and you could feel your stomach doing flips.
“and you're my pretty baby.” he whispered softly before cutting off a whine that rose up your throat with his lips.
his lips were a little chapped, but it fits your perfectly. your hands move to tangle on his hair, giving it a little pull making peter groan into the kiss. he leaned back, his warm hands move to find comfort on your waist as he brings you onto his lap.
peter felt like his heart was about to burst. every single sense of his is override and all he can focus on is you. you. you.
Summary: On your way back home from a bookstore, some idiots harass you. Spider-man steps in. *Unrevealed identity.*
wc [1.2k]
pairing: tasm!spiderman x f!reader
+ more peter
No matter how many unread books you had in your apartment, stacked on your shelves, on the floor, in your bag— it never seemed to appease the little voice in your head. “Get another. Oh, hey— you’ve been wanting to read this one.”
Eyes narrowing at the spine of the paperback, you willed yourself to leave the little bookstore that was tucked away in the many old brownstones huddling the city. That was the beauty of New York. There always seemed to be more undiscovered shops to explore. More money to spend. You should really use your library card more often.,
“Fuck it.” Muttering under your breath, you snatch the novel, trying to ignore the instant shot of dopamine hitting your brain.
...
“$8.99.”
You pay for the book, which now looking at the price— it’s a good deal. It’s used but in good condition. Shoving your change and book into your brown tote, you push open the glass door with your other gloved palm, the little bell dinging on your way out. Your boots click against concentrate, the hems of your pant legs wet from the rain puddles. The way home isn’t a long one, maybe a 10 minute walk, but you enjoy it. It’s a nice breather from being at work, and the stress of final projects and exams. Though not exactly a quiet walk, the sound of nearby construction, chatter, and traffic had become white noise. You liked your little ritual.
“Hey! Yeah, you— black coat.”
More focused on looking ahead of you, it didn’t occur to you that someone was trying to get your attention.
“Where you headed, tight jeans?”
The crass, cringe-worthy comment made you glance behind yourself. A guy who looked around your age with dirty blonde hair and two other guys followed behind him.
Hell no.. why do they always travel in packs?
What appeared to be college guys clad in puffer jackets, and whistling at you, obnoxiously trying to get your attention. It’s not the first time you’ve been catcalled (having been so used to walking every where. times like these, you wish you had a car.) but each time it happens you half expect it do be a homeless guy asking for crack or for whoever it is to leave you alone right after. The guys behind you seem to be walking towards you. So much for wearing headphones.
“Aw come on, you’re not gonna say hi to my friend? He thinks you’re cute.” The blonde haired guy catches up, walking backwards, hands stuffed in his pockets as he talks to you.
You shake your head, an uninterested look on your face.
“Woah woah, come on. Yo! She said she’d give you her number.” He laughs, calling over his other two friends as they begin to approach.
They seem.. harmless, you think- but you can’t help getting anxious. Adrenaline making your hands feelshaky from the prolonged encounter. Just give them a fake number or speak in a different language. Fuck. You hate this feeling. You hate that when in moments it matters most, you freeze up. Just say no. You already did, you’re clearly not interested— you’re literally walking away. Why the hell are they even talking to you? Frustration starts to eat up whatever embarrassment you were feeling. Speak.
Before you get a word out the guy reaches forward, pulling out your ear bud. Alright, fuck this guy.
"Hey, I'm talking to you." A dumb smile was on this dude's face as if he had no sense of your personal space and boundaries. Like he could just continue to talk to you or do whatever he'd like, not finding your "no" a means to stop.
Just as you’re about to tell him off, the guy trips over his own feet, falling backwards.
“What was that? I couldn’t quite catch that?”
You whip your head behind you expecting to see another one of this loser's friends but it’s- well shit. Your friendly neighborhood Spiderman.
He raises a gloved hand next to his ear pretending he couldn't hear what the guy said. He flicks out his wrist, a web shooting out onto the man’s mouth, shutting him up before he can speak. And then another, the man’s ankles bound making him trip over. You almost step on him as he wiggles around on the floor.
The other guys friend, a red-head, stares wide eyed slowly raising his hands. "Woah, man. We're just talking-"
Another web, restraining the other’s hands and mouth.
“Oh! so we’re harassing women now, huh? Not another peep outta you.” Thwik.
Before the shorter one can walk off like it was nothing, Spiderman shoots a web seemingly lassoing him and doing that little backwards kick soccer players do, to trip him.
“Don’t try it.”
“You know bottom of the pit, low life idiots like you usually have the smallest dicks ever! Your parents ever teach you manners?” He flicks the guys forehead, shooting another web at his pants, yanking them down.
“Uh oh!” He effortlessly ties a web around the guy and attaches the sticky rope to another, tugging on it, sending the other guy up and over also hanging on a lamppost.
“Dumb, dumb and..” His masked head turns slowly
“Dumber.” He looks over at the blonde still wiggling around on the floor. So now he's embarrassed.
He taunts the guy zipping webs around him until his cocooned, flicking another web to a streetlamp, securely attaching him. He slings another web-line, hoisting him up to dangle from the metal pole. The webs covering his mouth muffle his scream.
He crosses his arms looking back at his handiwork, the 3 idiots currently being swung upside down. He zeros in on the guy that couldn't take no for an answer.
“Hey, I recognize you. Yeah you come here,” he tugs on the web making the guy swing back and forth, the guy screams behind the makeshift gag.
“You’re on the hockey team at ESU right? I’ve seen you in the papers. Tough guy.” his fists bumps his chest firmly.
“Here how about you and I play a game.” The whites of his mask seem to squint and focus on him- he lowers his voice.
“How about you try dodging me cause the next time I see you…” he doesn’t finish the sentence, roughly pushing the guy back for one last swing.
“Woah, be careful there Luke. Yeah, I know who you are.” Then he finally turns to face you, jogging up to where you stand. You wonder how long they’ll stay up there swinging around in the breeze. Not that you care, they deserve it.
“Here! Let me help you with that,” he extends a hand, offering to help you carry your bag and umbrella.
From then on, whenever he’d see those three idiots around campus, in the halls or out and about— he’d made it a personal mission to make their lives a little more difficult. They didn’t get to treat women like that. Nuh uh, no way. Not on his watch, especially not his future girl. Okay, maybe you didn’t know it was him behind the mask, or were his girlfriend, but one day you would be! Whenever he'd build up the courage to ask you on a date that is. He's still figuring out all the details wanting it to be super special and romantic. Sure, he might be getting a little ahead of himself, but he can't help wanting to impress you. You have him wrapped around your fingertips just like that. Until then, he'd just keep an eye on you. An appropriate, respectful distance, that wasn’t stalkerish at all.
..Sometimes.
Some may call it “stalking,” others might say guardian spider angel.
private #5 bent over a table while somethings baking in the oven. is it too much to ask for tasm peter parker bending reader over?
[location based smut prompts]
The To-Do List
[tasm peter x fem!reader]
(reader is described as having a ponytail that is long enough for Peter to wrap around his hand and use as leverage)
His birthday cake was nestled happily inside the heated oven.
She got up early to make it for his special day. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail to keep out of her face while she had prepped and she was still in her pajamas from this morning. She had planned to have the cake in the oven, get her shower done, and place out his presents on the table all before he woke up.
Peter, of course, had other ideas.
He leaned against the kitchen doorway with a lopsided grin as he sleepily took in the sight of her. She paused when she saw him there, silent as ever, and crossed her arms.
“You are not supposed to be awake for another hour,” she chastised.
Thirty-five looked good on him. Every year he seemed to get more and more handsome.
His eye wrinkles grew as his smile widened. A strand of dark hair fell down his forehead and he absentmindedly brushed it away. He was shirtless with nothing but a pair of dark boxers to keep him decent.
She admired how defined his chest was. A hinting of his six pack was peeking out from just under the surface of his lean body.
“I smelled cake.” His voice was thick and scratchy with lingering sleep. Peter’s morning voice was one the sexiest sounds she’d ever heard.
She smiled as she rolled her eyes. It had hardly been in the oven for more than five minutes and it was already enough to get him out of bed.
“The kitchen is a mess. I was going to clean it all up and have your presents out and I was going to be all dressed up and looking extra cute. You ruined it all with your stupid nose.”
Peter laughed as he strode across the room to slip his arms around her waist. She looked up to admire him and wiped at a staining of toothpaste still clinging to the side of his lips. She caught it with her thumb and shoved it back into his mouth while he licked it off.
“You already look extra cute,” he mumbled around her thumb.
“I’m literally wearing your old, hole filled shirt and bright pink fluffy pants. This is not how I wanted you to see me this morning. It’s your birthday. I wanted it to be special.” She tugged her thumb back with a huff.
Peter stepped back to appreciate her outfit in the morning light. She had already been in bed by the time he crawled through their window last night.
“I like it,” he stated. “It’s hipster.”
She let out a laugh in response, “I don’t think you know what hipster means, babe.”
Peter shrugged, “It means you dress like a bum, right?”
“Oh my god, why don’t you go back to bed and try this again in an hour when everything is all set up, okay?”
“No,” he whined. He latched himself onto her back, snaking his arms tightly around her stomach to press her against him. “I’m up. It’s my birthday. Say happy birthday to me and tell me you love me.”
She grinned, snuggling back against his bare chest, “Happy birthday and I love you.”
“That sounded insincere but I will take it.” His hand slipped up under her loose shirt to cup a warm hand over her breast, lazily palming it while he nibbled at the edge of her ear. He always liked the feeling of her nipple coming to life and growing harder against his hand. He held onto her chest like one might cling to the safety of a favorite stuffed animal.
She groaned, “Your presents were supposed to be all set out nicely on the table. Instead you’re just greeted with a kitchen disaster of my cake baking. Are you sure you don’t want to sleep for another hour? I know you’re tired from last night. You were out late.”
Peter began to slowly waddle them back and forth towards the kitchen table, refusing to release his grip from around her waist or remove his hand from her breast, “I know of a present I can unwrap right here…”
She gasped under her breath, “Peter. This is no time. I’ve got a list of things to do.”
She felt him laugh quietly against her ear.
“Yeah and I’ve got a list of things to do, too. A whole list. Let’s see what the first thing to do is…” he pretended like he was reading off an imaginary piece of paper as he checked it over. “Ah, yes!”
He slipped his hands out from her shirt and placed a gentle hand between her shoulder blades to bend her over the kitchen table. With a quick swoop, he tugged down both her pants and underwear, leaving them hanging around her ankles. She let out a shocked cry.
“Unwrap presents…check!” He chuckled to himself, giving her bare ass a soft slap. “And what a beautiful present it is. Couldn’t have asked for anything better. Wow, you really know me, baby, I’m super impressed.”
“Peter,” she whined, pushing herself back up. “Not fair. I haven’t showered. I’ve got to get ready. I’ve-”
He cut her off with a kiss. His lips crashed against her and his tongue forced its way into her mouth to stop her from trying to protest further. She could taste the mint from his toothpaste still clinging to his tongue and she moaned as he pressed his hips into hers. He was growing harder by the second.
“Shut up,” he mumbled against her lips with a smile. “My birthday. My rules.”
“Okay,” she said with a dreamy sigh. It wasn’t hard to convince her. Her complaints were more for show than anything else. If Peter wanted her, he had her. “I love you, Pete.”
“If you love me so much then why don’t you take off that shirt so I can see my second present.”
She did as she was told, stripping it from her body, until she was standing naked before him. The bulge in his boxers twitched which made her smile. She loved the fact that she could make him so hard from sight alone.
Peter’s hand reached out to brush a calloused thumb across her hardened nipple, “Beautiful.”
He lifted her up onto the table so she was sitting closer to him and he moved between her legs. They wrapped around him so she could feel the heat of him soaking through his boxers and against her pussy. His eyes traveled down to her chest, taking in the sight, and sighing happily. His head dipped down so he could capture the waiting bud between his wet lips.
She let out a satisfied moan and ran her fingers through the back of his hair while suckled on her. His tongue bathed her breast, teeth nipping at her nipple, and soothing it over with quick kisses and light sucking motions. His mouth was magic. He didn’t even need to touch her pussy for her to already be soaking through his boxers as she ground against him.
“Feel that?” He groaned, bucking his hips. “Feel how hard I am?”
She whimpered.
“All for you,” he whispered, finding her lips once more to kiss her deeply.
All for her.
It was his birthday. She should probably be getting down on his knees for him and sucking him off or tending to him in some way but she was nothing but putty in his hands. Lost in the feeling of seduction he was casting over her.
Peter dragged her down off the table, smirking at the wet spot she had left behind, and spun her around. He folded her back in half over the table, scraping his nails down the length of her spine and over the swell of her ass.
“The next thing on my to-do list,” he breathed, his voice low and deep. “Is you.”
She heard him discarding his boxers and suddenly felt the wet, hot tip of cock slide up her open folds. She was more than ready for him. He never had to do much to have her begging for more. Her hips grinded against the air as if trying to draw him in closer but he only continued to tease her with the tip.
“Someone’s eager,” he commended, giving her ass another slap.
“Peter, please,” she gasped.
He kept up his tantalizing torture. Every time his cock bumped over her aching clit, her hips would jerk backwards, and she’d let out a quiet cry.
“Please what?” He asked with an air of innocence.
She groaned at his teasing, “Please fuck me! I want you to fuck me.”
“Aww,” he cooed. “Does my poor baby need my cock?”
She whined and nodded.
“You got up so early, didn’t you?” His nails dragged along her hips, making her squirm, as she humped frantically in an attempt to get at his cock. “You got up early to make my birthday so special. You baked me a cake. It smells amazing, doesn’t it? Smell it, baby.”
Her eyes widened in frustration, “Peter! Fuck me! Please, stop it.”
He ignored her pleas, getting off of them, as his cock twitched between her thighs, “Did you slip that cake into the oven just for me?”
She was nearly sobbing from her own arousal, ready to attack him if he didn’t shut up and fuck her soon. She arched her back to better entice him, wagging her ass and rubbing it against his hips. She pushed herself up with her arms so he could get a peeking view of her tits swaying in wait for him.
That seemed to do the trick because he had gone silent as he stared.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Happy birthday to me.”
“I want it hard, Peter. Use me,” she whispered in an effort to finally push him over the edge. “I’m yours.”
He lined up his cock to her entrance and eased himself inside. She nearly doubled over against the table at the delicious feeling that flooded through her body.
“Yes, yes, thank you, baby, thank you,” she cried.
“You really love this cock, don’t you?” He breathed. “Do you love this cock more than me?”
“No, baby, never. I could never-”
He pulled out and rammed the full, thick length back into her with a loud slap.
She shrieked, falling forward into a flurry of mumbled moans, “I do, I do, I do. I love it more than you. I love it more than anything.” Tears pricked in her eyes from the overwhelming sensations taking over.
Peter chuckled to himself, “That’s my girl.”
Her ass slapped against his body with each plunging drive of his cock as he took her. Fast and hard, just like she asked. Every thrust felt like it was reverberating through her, waking up all her senses, making her feel more alive than ever before. It was sheer bliss. Anticipation already began to build. He knew exactly how hard to take her. Peter could be rough but he never went past her limits. He knew her inside and out. He knew just where to push her before retreating back to safety. The sounds of her tumbling moans and each inhale of breath was all he needed to direct his path.
He was filling her body, stretching her, taking her, building her up to that beautiful place of divinity. Her nails clawed at the table, scratching at the wood, trying to find some kind of purchase to steady herself with.
He wrapped her ponytail around his hand and jerked her head upwards. She arched her back to accommodate the move as he held her against him. She could feel his ragged breaths against her cheek and listened to his erotic panting in her ear. The sound was enough to almost send her flying straight into an orgasm.
The hand not keeping a tight hold of her ponytail wrapped around her to grab at her chest. He molded her breast between strong hands.
She loved taking his cock. Loved it so deep. Thrusting. Hard. Stretching her. Forcing her to take him. Peter was thick. Thickest man she had ever been with. He pushed her walls to their max. His beautiful body and the sounds he made when he fucked her where like heaven to her ears.
That familiar, sensual pressure began to grow inside of her with shallow waves lapping at the edges of her mind. Soon they would turn into giant swells. Taking her over until it was all she could feel.
His hand slipped from her ponytail to wrap around her neck. He gave a gentle squeeze. Nothing too forceful but enough to send her flying even faster towards that tsunami of pleasure. She was so close. So ready.
“Harder, Peter,” she sobbed. “Hard. Please. I’m-I’m…close…need it hard. Take me.”
Peter was never to deny a request like that. He shoved her back over the table and tumbled on top of her, humping frantically with long, heavy strokes into her cunt. He could feel her walls tightening. He could feel her body changing.
“Come on, baby,” he urged her. “Cum on my cock. Cum for me. Let me feel you.”
The universe exploded into blinding light.
She didn’t care how loud she was. Didn’t care if the neighbors would hear. In fact, she wanted them to. She wanted them to know exactly how well Peter Parker could fuck his woman.
Her toes curled and her legs kicked up as the sensory overload rocketed through her with golden waves of pure dopamine.
Peter took her straight to the edge and held her there, spasming and sobbing, as he continued to fuck her through the orgasm. Even as the waves slowly receded, they still lingered in tiny aftershocks, due to his relentless pounding. He had gotten her where she needed to be and now it was his turn.
He reangled himself into her, getting a better grip as he held onto her hips, and switched up his rhythm to slow. Peter liked to feel everything. He wanted to drag it out and feel her body wrapped around him. From fast and hard to slow and steady. His change of pace caused a low, drawn out moan to escape from her throat.
“You like that, baby?” He panted. “You like feeling every inch of me?”
All she could do was whimper in response as her sex spasmed again around him. This was a man who knew how to lengthen an orgasm. She was completely helpless to him. Her body was his play thing.
“Let me hear how much you love me, baby,” he whispered down in her ear as his cock buried straight to the hilt inside of her. “Let me hear you.”
She struggled to make any noise besides sobbing whimpers and broken cries.
He moaned in response, “That’s it. Those are those sounds that I love so much. My poor baby, all ravaged on my cock. Can’t even speak.”
He gave a small shudder and she knew he was close. She did her best to work her hips to meet his thrusts, squeezing him with her walls, sucking him in, clenching down.
“That’s good, baby, that’s good.” He moaned, his voice slowly losing itself as he got closer to the edge. “Ooh, fuck, keep that up. ‘M gon’na cum inside ya’kay?”
She loved it when he filled her. She loved feeling him drip down her leg as she carried him around with her. She would bathe in his semen if he wished it. It was his birthday, after all. The birthday boy could come wherever he pleased.
His long, slow strokes worked her up as another, tiny orgasm rippled through her. That seemed to be all he needed to follow.
Peter let out a low groan, his thrusts become more unrestrained with each passing second, and she took him. All of him.
With the sweetest of cries, he emptied himself inside of her. She could feel him swell and pulse until she was impossibly full. That tiny orgasm grew into something much bigger, taking over her body along with him, as she felt him collapse on top of her, both shaking, as he bit at her shoulders with soft, love bites until he finally calmed down.
He stayed like that, laid against her back and squishing her into the table, until he cock began to soften and he sadly slid back out. She tumbled back into his arms as they both fell to the spooning position against the kitchen floor. Naked, wet, and breathing heavily.
Peter’s hand found the comfort of her breast once more.
“Mmm,” he hummed. “Best present I could ask for. Thank you, baby. You’re too good to me.”
She grunted in response, still finding words to fail her. Instead, she rolled over in his arms, hooking her leg through his, and leaving a trail of kisses across his face to show much she adored him.
His eyes closed as he smiled happily at the feeling.
Eventually she would have to get up. Eventually she would have to shower and get dressed and clean the kitchen and set up his presents and frost the cake…but for now…
For now she was happy to just lay here on the floor in his arms.
A/N: Just a take on what the spider sense could encompass! I just thought it would be really cute to explore if Peter could feel when you’re going through it emotionally. 🩷
You had been with Peter long enough to be used to the whole Spider-Man thing, but “used to” and “okay with” were not the same on this particular night. He hadn’t been gone long at all, and you already missed him so much. It didn’t help that you were PMSing and apt to cry over absolutely anything, so the sooner he was safely tucked into bed next to you, the better. You tried to imagine what it would feel like to fall asleep in his arms….
Sighing, you got out of bed and started pacing around your darkened bedroom. A few tears trickled down your cheeks, and you brushed them away angrily. You hated this desperate, needy feeling. Why was it okay for a woman to be “desperate” for someone sexually, but not emotionally? Sex was great and all, but you just wanted to feel loved and cared for. To have the man you loved wrap his arms around you and nuzzle into your neck as the big spoon while you drifted off to sleep.
You were sitting on the edge of your bed, crying, when you heard three light knocks on the window—Peter’s signal that he was about to come in. You ran to open the window, but he beat you to it. “Hey!” He smiled and climbed through. He didn’t sound surprised to see you up and about at 2 AM.
You turned away to wipe your eyes before his heightened vision could clock your tears. “What are you doing back so soon?” All you’d wanted was for him to come home, and now that he was here, it was like you were too scared to go to him. Like you would dissolve if he actually touched you.
Peter set his Spider-Man mask on the desk and slowly approached. “Hey.” His voice was softer now, more tender. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
You shook your head as you felt yourself well up with tears again. You backed up into the wall. Peter touched your damp cheek, his eyes worried.
“It’s just embarrassing,” you whispered.
“Oh, okay. Then I definitely want to hear it,” he stage-whispered back, wrapping his arms around your waist.
You smiled in spite of yourself. “I, ah…” You sighed and leaned your forehead against his chest. “I just really missed you. And my anxiety is up, so I was just lying in bed, worrying about you. Annnd now pacing and worrying about you.”
Peter kissed the top of your head. You could hear the soft, rhythmic thud of his heartbeat, and it soothed your soul. He was here. He was real, he was okay. You clung to him, melting into his body.
“I missed you too.”
“Is that why you’re back so soon?” You teased him.
“Uh, y-yeah!”
You looked at him.
“What?”
“Why did you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like this is the first human conversation you’ve ever had.” That stuttery tone was usually a tell that he was lying—or at least not telling the whole truth. Then you realized. You swatted his chest, happy tears now filling your eyes. “You knew.”
“Knew what?” He said coyly.
“You knew I was getting more and more sad and anxious. You could sense it, couldn’t you?”
He smiled and snuggled you against his body again. “Never underestimate the heightened senses.”
“Yeah, but you’re supposed to be out helping people, though,” you whined while simultaneously squeezing the life out of him.
“Helping you doesn’t count? I’d say that’s the most important thing I could be doing!”
