Noticing Peter’s outburst at school shortly after the death of his Uncle Ben, you decide to introduce him to the local boxing gym.
When you saw Peter Parker’s head resting on his locker, his signature goofy smile muted, you knew something was wrong. The brightest geek in the class was usually a ray of sunshine; today, it looked like his light had been sucked into a black hole. You resisted the urge to reach out to him, having heard the grave news of his Uncle Ben dying in his arms. When you lost someone close to you, you didn’t care about the well wishes or sympathetic looks. All you wanted was your loved one back. So you held back, watching his pain from afar.
You were collecting your books from your locker as the halls fell silent. A crash of a body hitting the metal. Spinning around you saw Flash pressed against the locker, Peter’s hands tightly holding him there. You didn’t need to see his face to see the empty fury lurking in his features.
Feeling as if you were intruding on something, you turned away. The crowd dissipated as quickly as it had formed. Peter eventually released his grip on Flash, him scurrying away as quickly as he could.
It was clear Peter was in pain. You felt that pain before. You barely spoke to the boy but you felt the tie of grief bind you together. An urge to help him took over your body. Turning on your heel you went back to your locker, snatching a flyer. Before you could think too much about it you slipped it between the slats of Peter’s locker.
~
You didn’t see him that night, or the next. Each time you kept an eye on the door, waiting anxiously for him to step onto the premises. Weeks passed and eventually, you stopped checking.
Brett clapped you on the shoulder. “Y/N! Can you show the rookie around? I’ve got a class in ten.”
“Sure,” you didn’t even look up from the computer, too busy deciding on what playlist would bounce through the walls of the gym.
Someone cleared their throat. You looked up, nearly falling out of your chair. It was Peter.
A bright smile lit up your face. “Sorry about that, in my own world.”
“It’s okay.” He seemed better than that day in the hall; not by much.
You randomly selected a playlist, shuffling out of the seat and moving to show him the rest of the gym. “Have you ever boxed before?”
“I… This isn’t normally my kind of thing.”
“You’d be surprised, a lot of people tend to think that. Next thing you know, they’re hooked.” You paused. “Sorry, that was a bad boxing pun, even I’m ashamed.”
Peter stared at you with a blank face.
“You know, hooked like a right hook? Nevermind.”
Clearing your throat, a niggle of doubt set in at the back of your mind. Why did you slip him the flyer? There was no point dwelling on it now, he was here and he was clearly interested, his eyes raking the large space with intrigue.
You pointed to the treadmills lining one wall. “That’s your treadmills, good for keeping up cardio. Hop on and I’ll show you how it works.”
“I’m more interested in the,” Peter cleared his throat, almost as if he was embarrassed to admit it out loud. “Hitting part.”
“You’d be shocked how tiring boxing can be. You need a good level of fitness, but” you shrugged, turning your back to the treadmills. “On your head be it. If you go running to Brett because you flew off the treadmill let him know I warned you.”
You swore you could see the ghost of a smile on his lips. “I’ll do that.”
“Over here are the bags. Please, for the love of god, make sure you have wrapped your hands correctly and wear gloves.” You grabbed some hand wrappings from the side. You showed him how to wind the wrappings correctly around the hand to ensure maximum protection. “You can just use the gloves or the wrapping on their own, but it’s just safer this way.”
Peter nodded. You unwound the wrappings from your hand, placing it securely on the side before moving towards the large boxing ring in the middle of the gym. Grabbing a hold of the rope surrounding the ring, you leaned your weight into it.
“This is the ring. We do a lot of our one on one training sessions there.”
“What are they like?”
“Brutal.” You huffed a laugh. “They cost extra, but if you have a problem paying, speak to Brett. He’s pretty good about that kind of thing.”
Peter’s eyes fell to the floor. Any enthusiasm you had seen from him earlier had evaporated, his posture deflating like a balloon. “I don’t exactly have a lot of money.”
You smiled, gesturing to the people dotted around the gym. “Do you think they do? Most of us do things to help him out instead. I run the front desk after school, Stacey manages the socials and Jackson cleans the gym after hours.”
“That’s really nice of him.” Peter perked up a bit, lifting his eyes from the floor.
“He’s a good guy.” A beat of silence passed, then two. “Or if you wanted, you could train with me.”
You wanted to draw the words back into your mouth; it was too late. Peter’s face lit up, and his lips moved to the closest thing resembling a smile. “Really?”
“Uh, I’m nowhere near as good as Brett, but maybe I could help you start off.”
“I’d really like that.” Peter shook his head vigorously. “Good, cool, that’s amazing, thank you.”
“Great, I’ll add you to the group chat. It just has some updates on the gym, that kind of thing.” Peter’s phone binged. He looked at the screen, a notification having popped up.
Peter P has been added to Brett’s Boxing Bitches.
“Brett’s Boxing Bitches?”
“Don’t tell Brett.”
~
It had been a few weeks since you’d offered to train Peter. You were half convinced he was trying to kill you. Initially you started on two sessions a week, next thing you knew, he wanted to practice every day after school. Your body was aching constantly but you didn’t care, it was all worth it to see the grief slowly ebb away from his face.
His stance was slowly improving. When starting boxing it can be a lot to take in, with the footwork, defence and attack all happening at once, but after a few sessions he was taking it into his stride. He was a quick learner.
“Okay,” you heaved a breath, wiping the sweat from your forehead. Your hands were securely in a pad on each hand, creases from where Peter’s punches landed appearing on the material. “Just make sure when you’re tired you don’t wind your punches back. The power comes from your arm, not from pulling it backwards.”
“Like this?” Peter demonstrated jabbing his arm out straight in front of him. You nodded.
“Much better. Winding back the punch can leave you exposed and you want to stay standing for as much of the fight as possible.” Peter shook his head up and down. “Are you ready for another go or do you want a break?”
“Let’s go one more time.”
“Okay, let’s just keep to the jabbing for now. Ready?”
Peter nodded, raising his gloved hands in the defence position by his jaw. His arm stretched out, hitting the pad. Your arm nearly came out of socket as he ploughed into the pad.
Slightly out of breath, you lowered the pads, smiling at him. “Great job.”
He hadn’t seemed to have noticed the lowered pads. One minute, you were standing upright, and the next second, you were staggering backwards. Agony exploded in your nose and wetness started to slip past your lips.
Peter instantly rushed to your aid, ripping the gloves off and waving a hand in front of your face. “Shit, are you okay?”
With a bright grin, you smiled up at him. “That was perfect!”
“Excuse me?” Peter’s brow quipped. He looked at you as you were slightly swaying on your feet, blood gushing from your nose. Despite the red flooding your chin you had a wide grin on your face.
“Your form was perfect!”
“Uh, thank you?”
“I’m pretty sure you broke my nose but it’s worth it.”
“Y/N I’m so sorry.”
“I’m proud of you!”
“We need to get you cleaned up.”
“Meh, I’ve had worse happen. Let’s try again.”
“Y/N!”
“Fine. I could have gone for another round but whatever.” You ducked out of the ring with Peter’s assistance, grabbing the first aid kit. He instructed you to sit down, which you did with a reluctant huff.
He pulled out the alcoholic wipes, ripping open the packaging.
“You have to admit, you’re a little bit proud.”
“I hurt you.” Peter began wiping the blood away from your face, the wipe coming back a bright red. A rush of pride soared through you at the sight - it was a sign he was improving.
“It was my fault, I lowered the pads.” You paused a teasing smirk appearing on your face. “Just remind me to wear a helmet next time.”
“You’re a pain in the ass.”
“And you’re a pain in my nose!” He stared at you blankly. “Too soon?”
His lips curled up at the sides.
“It’s nice when you smile, you should do it more often.”
“I’ve not had much to smile about these days.”
The pair of you fell silent. You could tell Peter was thinking about his uncle, just in the same way you were thinking about the loved one you had lost. It was strange the way grief can never lose its hold over you - it would never disappear, only weaken to the point where memories don’t feel like ripping open old wounds.
It hit you suddenly that you wanted Peter to know that it got better. Without realising it, you started to tell him about what happened to you. “Did I ever tell you that when I started here, I was in the exact same position as you? I was angry, getting into fights, drinking, smoking weed, one time I even got arrested.”
Peter froze, alcohol wipe dangling in his hand. “What changed?”
“Boxing. It was the perfect place to vent out my aggression. I miss them all the time, but now I know how to handle my grief.”
“By hitting a boxing bag?”
“Better than hitting a person.” You coughed. “Well, at least hitting someone out of the blue. You will punch someone every now and then but it comes with the sport.”
Peter nodded. You could sense his understanding. You watched as he pieced the pieces of the puzzle together, turning to you with a slack jaw. “You were the one who put the flyer in my locker.”
“Guilty.”
“Why?”
“Because I was like you. And I wanted to help.” Peter wiped the blood from your face, disposing of the wipes. He seemed to be lighter than he was that day in the hallway, making your heart swell. “He’d be proud of you.”
“Thank you…” he averted his gaze. He swallowed thickly. At that point you expected the conversation to be finished.
He looked up at you, a slight curl to his lips. “You broke the one rule of fight club.”
“Eh?”
“Don’t talk about fight club.”
A beat passed. A small laugh crept out of your mouth, and you hit him playfully. “You’re a nerd.”
it’s not common that you get to have nights in with peter, y’know, with all the spider-man stuff. because of that, your nights in are usually jam-packed to make up for it. you two would do things ranging from spa nights with face masks, hair masks and manicures to game nights (he always wins twister).
other times you’re both too tired and want to revel in the domesticity of this sacred time together. so, here you two were, heads on opposite ends of the bed - yours against the headboard and his propped up on a pillow near your feet - reading in silence. the room was quiet minus the sounds of your breathing, the flicker of the candle next to the soft lamp that illuminated your room, and occasionally the honk from the streets of new york just outside your window.
you were so relaxed and full of love, stealing glances at peter every once in a while. sometimes he’d be deep into the words on the page, eyebrows furrowed, eyelids hooded, lips parted. you wanted to crawl over and kiss him so badly. other times, when you’d glance at him, he was already looking at you with a sleepy, dopey smile on his face. you always blushed and looked away.
meanwhile, peter was enamored. honestly, he hadn’t read more than 3 sentences in his book that entire time because your presence was just more stimulating. you were doing barely anything - sighing, turning your page, laughing at a funny line - and he just wanted to pounce. he wanted to kiss and hug you so tightly it hurt him. made his skin burn. he loved your focused face. he couldn’t help himself to reach out and rub your ankle every once in a while; you were just so alluring. so, he waited patiently there, soaking in your entire being as he waited for you to finish your book and pay attention to him.
when you sniffled, his head shot up, he propped himself up on his elbows and surveyed your emotions. he could hear your heart beating.
“what’s wrong?” he questioned immediately.
you shook your head, lip pouting. “nothin’, this book is getting so sad, peter.”
his stomach flipped when you said his name. “well, maybe we’re done for the day, yeah?” he offered, reaching over for the book.
“no!” you exclaimed, scaring you both. your eyes widened before you both began chuckling. “sorry, sorry. i’m almost done, i need to know what happens, p”
he nodded his head, he adored you. he wondered for a moment if he should start writing books just to see you like this, so entranced and happy. just for you. “my sweet girl” he hummed, leaning over for a kiss before laying down on his pillow again. he opened his book but kept his attention on listening to your heart beat.
after a while, you finished your book and sighed contentedly, closing it. you looked at the front and back for a while before scooching over to peter. his book was closed in seconds. you leaned over him, admiring his face and smile. you felt lovely and warm.
you ran your hand against his cheek, enjoying the feeling of his stubble. you kissed him, slowly and softly.
you pulled back, continuing to just feel him. his hair, his stubble. you ran your finger down his nose and across his smiling lips. across his eyelids and long soft eyelashes.
you loved him.
“how was your book?” he hummed.
you jumped a bit in excitement “you wanna hear about it?” you asked, almost in disbelief.
he nodded his head, “everything, all of it; i want to feel like i read it”
your eyes lit up with excitement, “okay, but i’m literally gonna tell you the entire plot, peter. i’ll have to tell you everything”
he only raised his eyebrows, as if to say ‘go ahead’ and you began your excited rambling.
god, he loved you so much. his chest hurt as you described the characters in detail, telling him which one was your favorite. he loved watching you flip back through the book to read him some particularly touching lines or give him a back story to a joke that made you laugh. his heart lurched when you ran out of breath, or back tracked because you forgot something, or when you leaned down to kiss him while talking about a sweet moment in the book. his hand rested on your waist when you shyly blinked back tears recounting the emotional events, giving it a squeeze or two while you pushed through the feelings.
“don’t fall asleep, pete!” you exclaimed when he closed his eyes for a moment.
he laughed, “i’m not, i’m not! just visualizing it all!”
“you are not! you’re sleeping!” you accused, laughing exasperatedly.
“i promise im not - i just want to see it” he said, closing his eyes as you continued recounting the novel while you lightly traced his features.
he continued to listen, asking questions about that one character or a plot point you seemed to have forgotten. when you finished, he looked up at you, smiling, always smiling.
“i loved it” he beamed.
“really?” you beamed back.
“yeah, i think i’ll have to read it myself. after i finish this one” he said, grabbing his own book.
you hummed, crawling on top of him. you laid your body right on top of his, chest to chest.
“what’s yours about?” you asked, settled into him.
“okay, i’m not done yet but - don’t fall asleep!“ he said, pinching your butt for a moment before delving into his own read.
you were warm against him. he was so happy, so content. he went through his book, stuttering over his words every so often when he thought about you and how much he loved you.
Y/N gets incorporated, episode by episode, into Teen Wolf.
Friends to Lovers type beat.
Y/N and Scott McCall have known each other since birth, being as their families were close friends. They did everything together, including meeting and befriending Stiles Stilinski. Y/N only ever knew him as Scott’s good friend. But suddenly, sophomore year changes everything. She now has to juggle everything from newly-found popularity to exposure to the supernatural world and a new romance that she’s been wishing for since she was a child.
Peter comes back to his universe after helping his other selves defeat the MCU’s newest threats only to be greeted with another enemy. In the depths of his despair, he unexpectedly finds a woman who offers to patch him up from the nasty battle he previously fought. Wondering why he felt so magnetically drawn to her, she later reveals an old nickname; MJ.
SUMMARY:Peter wholeheartedly regrets not coming back to Y/N’s apartment and tries his best to stay away for her sake. She continues to think of him as her career begins to take off. Spiderman sees her during a battle and has to make a deal for her safety.
Peter laid on his bed, staring mindlessly at the noisy fan that clicked away above him as he tried to fall asleep. He’d probably watched it spin around hundreds or thousands of times every night, trying to rid his mind of her. She lingered in his every waking thought and visited during his dreams.
“Jesus Christ,” He whispered, rubbing his hands on his face in aggravation. “Okay, stupid multiverse-god-thing. Very funny. She’s the one, I get it! Just let me sleep..”
He found himself thinking of her eyes and the way they darted around aimlessly as she talked as if they were following her train of thought. He thought about her voice and the way it got raspy as the night progressed and her drowsiness with it. He accidentally caused a small explosion at the lab earlier in the day because his mind was on her. Her plump lips; the way they moved when she spoke or, god, when she smiled.
He flipped onto his stomach and groaned into his pillow with frustration.
He wanted nothing more than to wait for her to return to the apartment and take him to her favorite diner in the city on that day. He felt his heart sink when he felt the familiar tingle, knowing he’d have to leave her stranded to chase after his newest enemy. He didn’t have time to leave a note. He had a responsibility to protect the innocent; it normally came with the cost of hurting or losing someone he loved. As much as he hated to admit it, as bad as he wanted her, he needed to stay away.
Butboy did he want her. His mind wouldn’t let him simply forget about the destiny written by the fates; the story of Spiderman and MJ, an inevitable romance that spanned through multiple universes, his being no exception. He wanted her to take him to the diner. He wanted to walk her home and kiss her sweetly before making plans for a second date. He wanted to fall for her. At times, he wanted to ignore his power and abandon his responsibility all in hopes of living a domestic and happy life with this woman.
But alas, the world didn’t stop turning for him; not in his darkest times, much less in the hopeful ones. Duty called. The Collector continued to wreak havoc on the city of New York, and Peter had no other option but to fight. Yet, he couldn’t help but wonder how she reacted when she arrived home.
Little did he know that after her meeting, she’d gone through the effort of ordering two of her usual coffee for the man who had painted the everlasting, smitten grin on her lips. She had gone through her day with a coy smile, anticipating and craving his presence. She rushed home, opening her apartment door to be greeted by a soul-shattering silence.
No number, no address, no way to contact the perfect man she had woken up next to only a few hours prior. She’d searched every room, hoping the sinking feeling in her stomach would be replaced by the warm one she’d felt that same morning but there was nothing but her usual empty and silent apartment. Her smile faded and eyes blurred, left with no other option but to drink both coffees and move on with the day.
It had been almost two weeks now since their interaction. He’d seen her at the scenes of The Collector’s attacks, observing Spider-man’s every move and defending him mercilessly in her New York Times column; The Daily Herald. He’d make it a point to pick it up every morning on his way to work and read it on the train ride. Her words were piercing and revolutionary, changing the minds of thousands of citizens a day. It seemed that as time carried on, Peter noticed more and more pedestrians reading and talking about her articles.
He sighed, looking at the clock. Sleep now weighed heavily on his lids as his thoughts slowed to a single image; her. Y/N was engraved into his mind; he saw her vividly every time his eyes fluttered shut. And with that, he slowly drifted into a restless slumber, unaware that she laid under the same sky with the same striking memory replaying on a loop in her own mind.
———
The city had been quieter than usual; everyone hid away in the safety of their own home in fear of being caught in The Collector’s terrorizing paralysis. Tourists mostly steered clear of New York, and those who had the privilege of working from home rarely dared to leave their apartments. The attacks were more frequent and deadly. declining in morality at the villain’s mind declined in its strange illness.
Y/N mindlessly stared at the pedestrians who rushed past the cafe window. She was meant to be writing the next day’s article. Though it was a seemingly impossible task with the endless daydreams and memories of the night spent with a perfect stranger. She’d never quite managed to rid her mind of him completely.
She rarely remembered her dreams yet couldn’t seem to forget the one she woke from that same morning. His warm brown eyes, his soft chuckle, the tint of his blushing cheeks, the shape of his lips, the way he said her name- it was all the same.
The beginnings of rain snapped her out of her thoughts. She smiled as it began to sprinkle the fast-paced crowd outside, watching as some children held their arms up and stuck their tongues out before being ushered off by their parents. For a split second, it felt like the same city again; bustling with life and noise. It felt like home again.
The moment was interrupted by a loud crash, and suddenly the sweet scene from just seconds before melted into disarray. The same kids she watched happily embrace the rain were now being pulled into buildings by their mothers. A crowd of people ran down the street in blind chaos, screaming so loud that the windows rattled.
“‘Scuse me! Comin’ through!” She heard someone yell before seeing the familiar red vigilante sprint past the window. He shot a web and launched himself forward, sending him out of sight.
The Collector, she thought as she closed her laptop and quickly stuffed it in her bag before running outside. She only caught a small glimpse of the battle before it moved out of sight, it seemed that the enemy kept developing new weapons; this time it was a motorcycle that sped effortlessly between crowds and buildings. She followed the screams and ran against the swarm of panicked pedestrians, paying little mind to the mayhem.
She kept seeing glimpses of red turn corners, missing the majority of the action. She sprinted at full speed at this point, knowing damn well the danger she was putting herself in but putting the thought aside for the opportunity to write about a first-hand Spiderman experience. The adrenaline kept her legs moving and thoughts silenced for a few more minutes before she finally slowed down.
She turned another corner, only to see a frozen congregation of people that looked like something from a River Styx painting. She stopped in her tracks, backing behind a wall before deciding on whether or not to proceed. Then she saw it; Spiderman holding the watch in his hand as The Collector yanked at the makeshift web cuffs on his wrists to no avail. The motorcycle was dangling to the building above.
“Oh, my sweet boy,” The older man chuckled, shooting his foe a bone-chilling grin. “This would’ve all been over by now if you killed me when you had the chance.”
“It could’ve been prevented if you would’ve just listened to me,” Spiderman spoke up, breathing heavily with anger and despair. “The cure wasn’t worth the madness. The old you would’ve preferred death over the man you’ve become.”
“Kill me,“ He purred, smiling like the Cheshire cat. “Or I will personally see to your loved ones’ deaths. Starting with that old-“
A web suddenly covered his mouth. The Collector’s eyes widened before he squirmed around and screamed.
“What was that? Starting with who?” Spiderman asked, stepping closer to his muffled words and cupping his ear. “Just a little louder, man. I can’t quite understand you.”
He fumbled a bit with the watch for a moment as the wailing sirens grew closer. The silence burst into screams and the sounds of a stampede, civilians running every which way. Y/N could no longer hear the conversation but watched as Spiderman walked up to the man and whispered something in his ear, causing The Collector to fall still. She dared to step out from behind the wall, trying to hear what was being said.
It was no use trying to run against the roaring crowd. She felt people slam into her and shove her out of the way as she attempted to approach her targets. The sirens grew deafening as she halted to a stop, giving up any chance of getting close before the cops ushered her away.
The masked man looked to his left to see the cop cars begin to swarm in. That’s when he saw her. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of the woman standing amid the paranoid mob that ran against her. He dared not look for too long, not wanting to give any hint of recognition.
“Well, that’s my cue,” Spiderman nodded toward the cops before shooting a web up towards a nearby skyscraper. “I meant what I said. Behave.”
“Wait!” Y/N stepped forward only to see him fly into the sky once again. “I-.. And you’re gone. Great.”
“Out of the way!” The cops called as they shoved people away from the man in web constraints.
“How many times have we told you that you can’t be at these scenes, Y/L/N?” A familiar cop barked, grabbing at her shoulders to pull her away. She turned to see that it was the chief of police, an old friend of her father’s. “It’s dangerous. You can get a quote later.”
“Chief Johnson, it’s part of-“
“Your job, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard your spiel before. It’s my job to clear the premises so get the fuck out of here!” He rolled his eyes, shoving her towards the cop cars. She looked back at The Collector as a cop recited his rights and cuffed him. “MJ! Go!”
“Fine! I’m gone,” She held up her hands defensively before turning on her heels. “Damn, who pissed in your fucking cereal this morning?”
“Don’t you have something better to write about?” He called after her. She stopped in her tracks. “He’s a menace to society!”
“He hasn’t killed anyone so what does that make you?” She asked, shrugging with her hands before turning to leave.
Y/N rolled her eyes as she turned the corner. She hated cops, but specifically the ones on Johnson’s crew. He used to be someone she was fond of until she found out about all of the injustice and corruption that he and his coworkers partook in.
“Fucking pig.”
———
After returning to the cafe, Y/N spent the next few hours writing and perfecting the article, making sure to explain the events that unfolded only hours before. She lost track of time, only leaving when the barista informed her that they’d be closing soon.
The streets were bustling with people celebrating the newfound freedom that came from The Collector’s imprisonment. She smiled at the lively crowds that gathered in the East Village, giggling at the people who decided to sport Spiderman masks. New York City was restored to its buoyant state.
She took the usual train home and walked a few blocks towards her apartment, opting to take a shortcut through the same alley she’d found Peter in.
The city’s sounds were muffled in the dark space; it was instead filled with the echo of her footsteps bouncing off of the dirty walls and rusty trash cans. She walked for a few minutes before realizing that she heard a second pair of footsteps behind hers. Taking a quick glance over her shoulder, she noticed the silhouette of a familiar skintight bodysuit.
“You’re that Daily Herald journalist,” The voice from earlier spoke. “Y/L/N, right?”
“Depends,” She adjusted her backpack as she turned to face him. “Who’s asking?”
She heard a breathy chuckle before he walked into the light, showing off his brilliant red suit.
“Just figured I’d say thank you. Before your column, most people saw me as a threat. But tonight.. I’ve never seen so many-”
“Fans?” She suggested.
“Well, I was going to say Spidermen in one place,” He chuckled once more. “But I like the sound of fans a lot better.”
She smiled. “Well, it’s no problem. I’m just writing the truth. It’s part of the job.”
“Is it part of the job to follow me around too?” He questioned.
“Oh, that? No, that’s just for fun,” She deadpanned before laughing. The man chuckled. “So did you really go through the trouble of finding out where I live just to thank me and ask if I was following you around?”
“Actually no. My main purpose of coming out here was to tell you to be careful,” He continued, making her furrow her brows. “Look, I don’t want you getting hurt on my behalf. Stop following me, alright?”
“And lose my job? Pass. But I appreciate the concern,” She turned to leave before a web blocked her path.
“I’m serious. Just-.. Be more careful. There have been lesser-known journalists that have died for less. If I see you in the middle of a fight again, I’ll have to web you to a wall or something,” He said sternly, making her smile.
“Web me to a wall?! No, please, Spiderman! I promise to stop following you around!” She cried out sarcastically. “How was that?”
“How was the acting or comedic presentation?”
“Both.”
“It was god awful,” He answered nonchalantly, making her chuckle. “What do I have to do to get you to stop following me?”
“Meet me here every night and tell me about your battles.”
“No way,” He protested. “Do you have any idea how much danger I put you in just by visiting tonight?”
She narrowed her eyes in thought before pulling her backpack off of her shoulder and taking out a small business card.
“Email me then,” She said, holding out the card. He looked down at her hand. “I can’t afford to lose this job. So it’s either this or I keep following you around.”
“You want me to report back to you after every battle?” He grumbled, looking back at her. She raised her brows, waving the card. He hesitantly took it. “Even the nightly patrols?”
“You do nightly patrols?” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t know that. But, yeah, that’d be ideal. If you can’t get around to it though, I’d settle for a weekly update.”
“Okay, deal,” He said after a brief moment of consideration. “You sure it won’t cause any tension between you and a boyfriend?”
“I’m sure he won’t mind, considering he’s nonexistent,” She smiled again before shrugging, choosing to ignore the inquisitive, flirtatious tone. “Currently too busy being caught up on someone I met once to fall for somebody new.”
Peter felt his breath hitch in his throat at the confession. She was talking about him. Not only that, but she rejected what she thought was another man because she liked him. He felt a hot blush graze his cheeks, grateful for the opportunity to be able to hide behind a mask as he heard that, and simply nodded.
“But I should probably get inside to finish up tomorrow’s story,” She continued. “If you could email me at least every Thursday so I have the weekend to work on an article, that’d be great.”
“Will do,” He said, not quite being able to wipe the smile off of his masked face as he watched her sling her backpack on again.
“Nice to finally meet you, Spidey,” She said before walking off, turning back to flash him that heart-melting smile before disappearing behind the corner. “I expect to hear about today’s fight!”
———
Peter smiled as he read the morning paper, reading a direct quote from the email he’d sent the previous night. He had to go to four different places to finally get The Times; the entirety of New York seemed to be carrying around, reading or talking about The Daily Herald.
“Hey, man,” His favorite coworker greeted as he walked into the laboratory’s downstairs cafeteria. “Ah, catching up on The Daily Herald, I see?”
“Hey. Yeah, me and everyone else it seems like,” Peter said, looking around at the people holding their phones or the paper, all reading or talking about the previous day’s events.
“Crazy fight, huh?” Caleb continued with a big grin, setting down his lunch and mimicking Spider-man’s web shooting stance. “I saw it in person! He was all Wa Pow and Ha Ya!”
“You didn’t see it, did you?”
“Not even a glimpse,” He smirked, taking his usual seat in front of him. “But that article was crazy, dude. Reading it made it feel like I was there. I think she even incorporated a Wa Pow in there and everything.”
“I see you didn’t skip out on your Adderall this morning,” Peter chuckled.
“Oh, fuck off,” Caleb laughed, before looking around at their coworkers in the cafeteria. “Feels like I stepped into some weird time portal. I don’t remember the last time I saw so many newspapers in one room.”
“Hey, I have a favor to ask,” Peter said, setting down the paper next to him and earning a hummed response from his friend. “You think you can cover for me for the rest of the day? There’s this girl that I really like and I found out that she-“
“If I say yes, will you spare me your love life details? I don’t need to know about another one of your casual hookups,” He sighed. Peter chuckled; he rarely ever had hookups. It was mostly an excuse to get out of work or other activities to go fight crime.
“It’s not a hookup, actually,” He corrected, making his friend’s jaw drop dramatically.
“You mean my horniest friend decided to put his trashy whore days behind him? Did you like suddenly become religious?” Caleb asked. “Oh my god… Are you dying?”
“What? No, I’m not dying,” Peter rolled his eyes. “Remember that girl I told you about? The one that patched me up after I got jumped?”
He might’ve stretched the truth a little on that too.
“Shut up. You’re actually gonna go back?” Grey leaned in, soaking in the gossip. “I knew you would! Yeah, I’ll cover for you. We’re waiting on a shipment so they’ll probably let us off early anyway.”
“Oh, dude, I owe you one!” Peter grinned before frantically gathering his things into his bag. “I could kiss you!”
Peter practically ran out of the building after he changed into his suit. He shot a web to a nearby skyscraper before launching himself into the air and heading towards the East Village. He stopped only a few blocks away from her building to change his clothes before walking up the familiar streets. He passed a small flower stand, leaving a twenty as he grabbed a set of purple flowers. “Keep the change!”
He finally made his way up to her apartment building, catching the door as someone exited and walking up the stairs to the fourth floor, stopping at the third apartment on the left.
This was it.
He took a deep breath, preparing something to say before he raised his hand up to her door to knock, only to be greeted with it flying open and a gasp.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Y/N yelped, holding her hand to her heart. She looked up at the man standing before her with a smile, holding the flowers up. Her features softly melted into an expression of amused disbelief. “.. Peter?”
“Hi,” He greeted softly.
“What are you doing here?” She furrowed her brows, a hint of a smile teasing at the corners of her lips. “Wait- how’d you get up here?”
“Caught the door as someone was leaving,” He pointed behind him, looking into her Y/E/C eyes that danced back and forth between his own. “Can I come in?”
“I, uh.. Yeah, yeah, come in,” She stepped aside, granting him access. “I only have about twenty minutes though, I have to catch a meeting.”
“Yeah, okay,” He nodded, looking into her ever-moving eyes.
“So… did you come here for something or..?” She shifted her weight uncomfortably in the silence.
“Yeah, I just.. Y/N, I’m so sorry for leaving that day,” He began, making her eyebrows raise in surprise. “Look, I know you must think I’m a dick for the way I left. I feel like a dick for leaving you hanging without so much as an explanation. And I’ll gladly give you one if you want, but I just wanted to apologize. Oh, and these are for you.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” She laughed as he handed them to her, lifting them up to her nose and taking in their scent. “I love lavender. Thank you. Let me put them in water, I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfortable.”
He smiled and nodded before she walked away. He felt a shift in the way she looked and spoke to him. Not that he blamed her for it, he’d probably have his walls up too after his little disappearing stunt, but it was kind of heartbreaking to see the once warm and present gaze now a little colder and more distant. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, hoping he didn’t fuck things up past repair.
He took in the apartment, noticing the guitar that now sat outside of its case. She got a new set of candles and a different couch, but everything else remained the same. The warm scent of vanilla wafted through the air and the posters hung happily in their places. He took a seat on the couch as she came back into the room with two glasses of water.
“Thanks,” He smiled at her graciousness. She looked at him as if she was skeptical it was all a dream; he looked at her as if he never wanted to wake up.
“It’s comfy, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, taking a seat next to him and putting down her glass on the sturdy coffee table before shifting to look at him.
“Yeah. I like the green,” He asked, looking down at the velvet couch. “Does this one get stuck too?”
“No, that’s kind of the point of a new couch,” She teased. “That’s more of a DIY project called ‘my friends are drunk idiots’. I donated that old thing.”
“Ah,” He smiled before looking up at her. “Bummer.”
She raised her brows, giggling slightly at his flirtatious comment before looking over his shoulder at the clock. Her face fell slightly as her eyes settled on his once again.
“What?” He asked, following her gaze. “You have to leave?”
“I should leave soon, yeah. I have this important meeting with my boss. I should probably get my stuff together,” She pursed her lips, placing a sympathetic hand on his wrist and getting up.
“Oh, yeah,” He nodded, hiding his disappointment as he stood up. “No problem. I can just-”
“Peter, can I ask you a question?” She blurted out, turning towards him.
“Yeah, of course,” He nodded, sensing the shift of tone.
“What changed?” Her own disappointment was on display now.
“What changed? What do you mean?” He tilted his head slightly.
“Why are you here?” She furrowed her brows, watching as he took a deep breath. “I mean it’s been two weeks. Why today?”
“Honestly? I-.. I can’t stop thinking about you,” He admitted, chuckling nervously. “And I’ve tried to stop but.. Y/N, you’re the first thing on my mind when I wake up. I can’t get the thought of you out of my head throughout the day either; wondering what you’re doing or if you’re staying safe. I pick up The Times every morning to read your column. Hell, I can barely sleep knowing that your apartment is only a few stops away from mine. I guess I realized that maybe the reason I couldn’t stop thinking about you is because I don’t wanna stop. I just had to see you again.”
She smiled at his sweet confession and his nervous demeanor. He moved his hands frantically as he spoke, running them through his hair when he stumbled on words, his voice gently and nervously pleading for her forgiveness. “Yeah?”
“Mhm,” He responded softly, glancing down to her lips quickly before looking back into her eyes. He swore he could melt on the spot when she looked at him like that.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either,” She took a step forward, making him let out a breathy chuckle of relief and excitement.
“Yeah?” He asked.
“Mhm,” She hummed slowly.
“And why’s that?” He took another step forward, closing the distance between them. His eyes locked onto her upturned lips.
“I think you know why,” She said softly, feeling him place his hand on her left hip.
“Maybe,” He whispered, now only mere centimeters from her face. She felt his hot breath rhythmically hit her top lip. “But I wanna hear you say it.”
“I like you, Peter,” She breathed, biting her lip. His name has never sounded so sweet. He smiled and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear before caressing her cheek. When his eyes made their way back to hers, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer; he leaned down and kissed her.
She was intoxicating. Her lips were softer than he imagined, and they moved in perfect harmony with his own, fitting flawlessly like the last piece of a puzzle. He felt her smile into the kiss before pulling him in closer to deepen it.
Never in his life had he felt a kiss like this one. The passion was electric, sending shock waves down his spine. He never believed in soulmates, not even after hearing the other Peter Parkers talk about their MJs, not even after he met his own. But this. This kiss, this moment, this woman; it all began to disprove his personal belief system.
He never believed in fate or destiny, but he wanted nothing more than for this, her, to be written in his future. It was no coincidence that in every realm of the universe, they were meant to find each other. He finally understood the gravitational pull she had on his mind; no matter how badly he fought against it, it was written in the stars. It was now beyond him.
“Mm, I really.. need to go,” She giggled in between kisses, only to be pulled back in by the delightfully dazed man she was entangled to. “Peter.. I’m serious.”
“Okay, okay,” He smiled dreamily as he pulled away. “Wait, one more.”
He leaned down and gently kissed her before they laughed against each other’s lips.
“What time are you free tonight?” He murmured, placing his forehead against her own.
“Well, unless Spiderman decides to get into some mischief, 7:00,” She smiled.
“I’ll personally see to it that he doesn’t,” He half-joked, making her chuckle as she pulled away to grab her purse. “Can I take you out to dinner?”
“Depends,” She smirked, opening her door. He followed behind her and walked towards the elevator. “Where were you thinking?”
“Either my favorite place or yours,” He responded as she pressed the button to go down. She smiled as he pulled her in by the hips. “What’re you up for? Chinese or that diner you were telling me about?”
“Chinese actually sounds heavenly,” She threw her head back in desire, making him laugh.
“Chinese it is,” He nodded as the elevator door opened. She hesitantly pulled away before he gently grabbed her wrist and guided her back into him, kissing her softly one final time. “I’ll be here at 7:00.”
“It’s a date,” She smiled before they walked out of the building and went their separate ways, smiling like idiots with a seemingly everlasting blush that lingered on their cheeks for the rest of the afternoon.
SUMMARY: Takes place after Peter returned from the multiverse. Though he survived New City’s newest villain, he felt the weight of the life claimed. In the midst of a breakdown, he meets a young woman who offers her assistance.
TW: none really? cursing
WORD COUNT: 6500
The only sound down the dark alleyway was that of an offbeat pair of footsteps. They echoed as he limped home in the soft, cool Autumn wind. Having survived the battle meant nothing to him knowing that someone didn’t get so lucky. His thoughts circulated like a storm in his mind; quick, loud, unavoidable. So much so that the typical New York City ambience was drowned out by his anxiety ridden mind and the sound of his limp.
His ribs throbbed from the bleeding gash that now decorated them. A deep breath sat at the forefront of his mind, teasing him with the relief of the mindful action. It was, however, impossible with the injuries to his chest and the impending panic attack that loomed above him.
A child was the newest victim of New York’s newest enemy. The city named him The Collector, seeing as he always took something from his victims. He used a device on his wrist to freeze everyone around him. Everyone except for Peter. He watched as he grabbed a little boy. He watched the fear of his mother, terrorized by the sight, forced to watch because of the temporary paralysis. Peter fought. And he failed.
It had been years since anyone has terrorized the city in this way. It had been years since he needed to suit up for anything other than his nightly patrol. Even then, he only needed to fight off common criminals and saving the people of New York. Not long after Gwen died, the city’s overwhelming chaos and villains did too.
He missed those days.
He missed her.
Tap tap… Tap tap… Tap tap…
The soft sound of his limp was deafening. It sounded like a line from a dreary blank verse poem; one of war, loss, and heartbreak. It was evidence of the failed mission. He grunted, trying desperately to correct the limp to no avail.
The sounded echoed is his mind. It was a sick reminder of the night’s previous events; of the fact that his best effort no longer being as effective as it once was.
His thoughts now swelled like the dark clouds of a storm; the wind deafening. His surroundings disappeared into the anxiety induced tunnel vision. He finally let out a frustrated scream as he fell to his knees. He felt the weight of the child’s life, the weight of the mother’s scream fall onto him. He openly sobbed at the bitter memory.
In the midst of his cries, he failed to hear the woman above him open up her window and step onto the fire escape.
“Are you okay?” She spoke up hesitantly. He looked up to see her climbing down the fire escape. He wiped his tears as she landed on the floor and walked over to him. She looked at the broken man in front of her and looked down in concern; his eyes refused to meet her own. “Should I call an ambulance?”
“No,” He grumbled. “I can’t afford to go to the hospital. I’m fine. It looked worse than it is.”
A silence fell upon the two of them. He was grateful he changed into his regular clothes beforehand, not wanting to be seen in this state as Spiderman. The adrenaline that aided him in the process was now completely drained from his body.
She shifted and grabbed her backpack to pull something out. He kept his gaze on her hands, skeptical of the stranger before him.
She smiled, handing him a bottle of water. He furrowed his brows and looked up. That’s when he caught a glimpse of her beautiful features. Her warm gaze felt like the sun after a weeklong storm; relieving, happy, bright. His breath hitched out of sheer surprise; her beauty was unique and magnetic. He looked down at the bottle and gently grabbed it from her hand.
“I’d offer you an alcoholic drink but you don’t look like you’re in any condition to handle dehydration,” She continued to speak softly, as if trying not to spook him. He sensed a genuine kindness. “I worked as a CNA to get me through college. I’m pretty good with stitches if you want me to-”
“Didn’t your mom never teach you not to talk to strangers?” Peter mumbled as he opened the bottle to take a sip. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone, regardless of how melodic her voice was or how sweet her doe eyed gaze was.
“She didn’t get the chance to,” The stranger shrugged. This caught his attention; he slowly lowered the bottle from his lips as she continued to talk. “She died when I when I was young. My dad, on the other hand, taught me several lessons. Keeping my ass off of the New York City concrete was one of them. You would not believe the amount of times I’ve seen someone puke in that exact spot.”
His face twisted up in disgust as he looked down. Sure enough, the patch of pavement he sat on was stained a questionable color. She giggled and extended her arm towards him to help me up.
“Gross,” He muttered, as he took her hand. “Ignorance is bliss sometimes. Thank you for that.”
“It got you off the floor, didn’t it?” She smirked. He smiled halfheartedly and shrugged. “Um.. so I’m sure your mom taught you not to go home with a stranger, but can I take you up to my apartment and patch you up?”
He hesitated, looking into her eyes. It was too dark to see exactly what color they were but light enough to see the concern on her face. He sighed before nodding. She perked up slightly before reaching for his arm. She began slowly lifting it to wrap around her shoulder, wanting to ease his limp as his crutch.
“Wait, wait,” He said quickly. She froze, looking at him with wide eyes. “Other side, I don’t think I can lift this arm.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” She winced, moving to his other side. She repeated the motion, and let him share his weight in order to walk him into the building and the old elevator. They walked in silence until they reached the fourth floor. The elevator dinged and she guided him to the third apartment on the left. He watched as she fumbled with your keys a bit before finally opening the door. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
He looked around at his surroundings. The apartment was small but it was charming nonetheless. She had candles burning on the coffee table and vintage art covering the walls. He heard a soft tune playing from the record player in the corner of the room and recognized it; it was as if the lyrics were on the top of his tongue. The quaint ambience of the living room was relaxing. He was surprised he hasn’t felt a sense of danger. If anything, his senses were telling him the opposite; this felt like a safe haven.
He watched as she paced around her apartment, gathering different little medical tools into a bag until she finally plopped down on the sturdy coffee table in front of him.
“I’m gonna cut your shirt off,” She said nonchalantly. His brows furrowed uncomfortably. “You bled through it so I’m assuming I should start there. Or you can lift your arms up to take it off yourself. But I assume that’s not an option so..”
She picked up the scissors and snipped at the air with a facetious smile. He fought back one of his own. Her sweet demeanor was a nice change of pace; it was rare in this city. He hated to admit it to himself, especially after the awful events that happened not even an hour before, but he was utterly intrigued by this woman. She was unlike anyone he’s ever met before.
He pressed his tongue against his cheek, accepting the challenge. She raised her brows and sat back, knowing that it would be nearly impossible to do with the amount of blood on his shirt. He went to lift his arms and hissed in pain, clenching his eyes. When he opened them, he caught her already looking him in the eye with an amused smile.
“You must really like that shirt,” She teased, making him smile slightly. Something about the way she said that reminded him of Gwen. “Do I have your permission to cut it off now?“
He nodded and she got to work. He watched as she cut away carefully. Once she successfully peeled his shirt off, he noticed a small blush arise on her cheeks at the sight of him. He couldn’t help but smile, raising his eyebrows when she looked up at him. She cleared her throat with a small smile of her own before turning away to grab the small medical bag beside her.
Peter found it hard to look away. She wasn’t trying to flirt, but the subconscious coy smile that decorated her features made her irresistible. She played her embarrassment off well, making him even doubt the hint of attraction she just displayed.
“This is going to hurt a little bit,” Her eyes finally met his again. He nodded.
“I think I can candle a little bit of- FUCKEN HELL OW?!” He hissed as the alcohol hit his gash. She scrunched her nose and muttered an apology. “A little bit?!”
“Ahh, I know, I know. I’m sorry! Almost done,” She squinted her eyes with sympathy before finishing off disinfecting the wound to the best of her ability. He sighed in relief when he saw her lean back, watching as she dug through the small bag again.
The woman gathered the materials needed to stitch up the wound, feeling his gaze burn into her as she picked out the respective instruments. She looked up to see that his warm, brown eyes danced all over her face. It was as if he would be forced to draw her features from memory. She couldn’t recall the last time someone had looked at her like that.
“Stop that,” She ordered, looking at him through her eyelashes for a split second before she adjusted herself near the wound. She steadied to hands to begin the procedure.
“Stop what?” He chuckled. His laugh was soft and boyish, making her chuckle and look up at him.
“The staring,” She said as sternly as she could, not quite being able to shake the same coy smile from earlier.
“Ah. I’m sorry,” Peter grinned, looking up. She chuckled at his exaggerated movement before positioning herself once again. She took a breath, glancing up only to catch his eyes on her. He attempted to play it off by looking away.
“I’m serious! I can’t focus with you looking at me like that,” She shook her head, not bothering to move from the perfect position she attained.
“Yeah, no, that was my bad. Sorry,” He drew in his bottom lip in an attempt to stop smiling. His eyes began roaming the room once again, taking in details he hadn’t spotted on first glance. The wall opposite of him was decorated neatly with several small posters; her favorite bands and artists. His lips parted at the sight, taken aback at the similarity in his own music taste. He began listening to the music playing from your record player, it was something he’d never heard before but right up his ally. “I like this song. Who’s playing?”
“Oh, uh, my old band. I played guitar for them throughout high school and part of college. What you’re hearing is our third album I think,” She recalled nonchalantly. He looked at her with wide eyes. “Wait, stop moving. I’m almost done.”
“You expect me not to move after you told me that you’re in a band? That’s so cool!” Peter beamed, making her giggle. “What did you play?”
“Guitar,” She mumbled as she focused on the project at hand. She paused every once and a while to look up and him and further explain. He found himself longing for those beautiful eyes to meet his when she looked back at his ribs; missing them the way one would miss water in a state of dehydration. “We never went anywhere with it though. It kinda just for shits and giggles. We’d play at nightclubs and small venues. But we all hated the idea of becoming famous so we kept it pretty lowkey. I’d hate to be in the public eye. Seems like a lot of pressure.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” He mumbled, making a face. He knew all too well how much pressure it could be. “Did you ever sing?”
“Sometimes,” She mindlessly shared as she finished up the stitches. “Every blue moon, our lead singer would get sick so I’d step in. But I’ve always hated singing in front of people. I honestly don’t know how he did it. He was damn good at it too. He had this personality that completely captivated the audience and this voice that gave us the most unique edge.”
“I can hear that,” He nodded, listening to the soft rock play in the background. A comfortable silence fell upon the two as they listened to the song.
“All done,” She perked up, tossing the tools into a plastic bag. “Are your legs alright? No cuts?”
“You want me to take off my pants too?” Peter raised his brow, making her fumble with the bag in her hand.
“What? No! I mean, not like that. I wouldn’t ask you to-.. You want to borrow a shirt? Let me get you a shirt,” She stuttered, getting up and rushing off as quickly as she spoke. He refrained from laughing as he watched her disappear into what he assumed was her room. “Is a t-shirt alright?!” She called after a moment.
“Yeah, that’s fine!” He spoke up, admiring the room once more. There was a beautiful tapestry to his left and a small TV in front of it. He saw two guitar cases on the floor and smiled at the thought of her playing the instruments inside of them. In front of him, the coffee table was scattered with guitar picks, strings, and music that she’d been writing.
He felt his body healing already; one of the perks of a radioactive spider bite. He leaned forward, wincing a bit as he reached for a piece of music. He couldn’t understand the notes but he found himself in awe of the lyrics. It was about war, loss, and heartbreak. He blinked away the shock, sensing her standing at the doorway.
“I’m not nearly as musical as I seem,” Her soft voice commented, walking towards him to hand him a black t-shirt. He smiled and gently took the shirt from her hands, grazing them ever so slightly as he did. She paused for a second, trying to conceal the fact that her head was spinning at the touch. “I, uh, had one of my old bandmates come over this morning. We were just messing around with this stuff. Before today, I actually hadn’t played in like.. Pft, eight months now?”
“And here I was thinking you were cool,” He teased, making her let out a breathy chuckle. He carefully put on the oversized t-shirt, only now seeing a familiar yellow smiley face. “Okay, I revoke that comment. You like Nirvana?”
“My dad was a big fan of theirs. He actually went to so many of their shows that Kurt knew him by name,” She chuckled. “So when my mom got pregnant, my dad asked the band what my middle name should be. The story goes that they all sat in silence for a minute, watching my dad take a drag off a joint they were all sharing in an alleyway. Then Kurt smiled and said Mary Jane. So my name’s Y/N Mary Jane Y/L/N.”
“M-Mary Jane?” Peter’s breath got caught in his throat. You furrowed your brows.
“Yeah?” You chuckled, taking a seat in front of him again. “My stage name was MJ because I thought it was much cooler than Y/N.“
“Huh,” He mumbled. His mind began racing with thoughts; the experience he had in the multiverse and the other Peters’ lovers. If she was MJ- his MJ, it’d explain the spark; the magnetic and unavoidable chemistry between the two. That would explain why her personality felt like it was made for his and why her presence felt so safe. They were meant for one another; in this life and millions before, during, and after.
“You’ve got a cut on your brow,” Y/N squinted, leaning in to look at the cut. His breath hitched in his throat once more; the faint scent of her shampoo wafted past him. “Want me to start there or on your leg? Because I think your knee is bleeding.“
“I-..” He muttered. How was he supposed to act knowing he was meant to be hers? How was he meant to act casually knowing that a future was already decided on by the fates? His mind raced at the speed of light; far too fast for him to utter a sentence, let alone keep up a conversation. It wasn’t until he saw Y/N’s head tilt slightly that he realized he was gawking. “Legs.”
“Yeah, I can do..” She trailed off. “Are you okay? Do you have a concussion?”
Before he got the chance to respond, she was flashing a small light at his eyes to check.
“I’m fine,” He chuckled.
“What’s your name?” She questioned skeptically as she put the light down.
“Peter,” He smiled. “Peter Parker.”
“What year were you born?”
“1995.”
“Where are you from, Peter Parker?”
“Queens. Want my social security while we’re at it?” He responded, making her roll her eyes.
His name never sounded so sweet before. He liked the way her lips moved as she said his name, it was as if she couldn’t say it without a smile. He especially liked the way her voice slightly jumped up in pitch when she said the first syllable of each word; Peter Parker.
“Okay, smart ass,” She shook her head, putting away the small collection of medical equipment. “You want my help or not?”
“Yes!” He said a little too quickly. Though she only glanced up for a split second, he still spotted the smug look that now painted her face. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m in rapid fire interrogation mode.”
“Right,” She dragged out the word, making him blush slightly as he let out another small chuckle. “Okay, wanna take off your pants so I can have a look at that knee?”
Peter licked his lips, holding back another audacious remark. He began to unbutton his jeans, pausing when he realized Y/N didn’t bother to go to the next room. He simply raised his brows. She looked up from cleaning up the area surrounding her.
“What? Want me to cover my eyes?” She smiled, placing her delicate hands on her face to hide behind them. He chuckled before taking off his shoes and pants, throwing them onto his bag when he was done. He looked down at his underwear and silently thanked his past self for deciding to wear a pair of boxer briefs under his suit today.
“Damn, Parker. Are you taking off your pants or sewing new ones?“ Y/N groaned, slouching for that she could rest her elbows on her thighs.
“I’m done, I’m done,” He chuckled as he sat back down in front of her. She peaked behind her fingers before looking down at his knee. A deep scrape adorned Peter’s leg, a bruise already teasing at the surface around it.
“Shit,” She whispered before looking up at him. “You really got the shit beaten out of you, huh?”
“You have no idea,” He chuckled dryly, looking down. She got the memo and changed the subject.
“This isn’t as bad as your ribs. I think we might be able to get away with cleaning it and wrapping it in gauze,” She said before moving on. Just as the sensation of the alcohol burned into the wound, she found herself empathetically scrunching her nose at the sound of Peter’s groan. “I know, I know. That’s the worst of it, I promise. It’s been a while since I’ve had to do this for someone outside of the hospital setting. I used to have to patch my brother up all of the time as kids. I know a thing or two about patching up the underdog.”
“What makes you think I’m the underdog?” Peter smiled. She giggled softly as she reached back for something. He paid no mind to the object in her small hands; he was utterly captivated by the way she spoke and carried on conversation. Something about it all felt so familiar to him.
“I don’t know,” She shrugged, placing the gauze onto the wound carefully. He noticed the fact that she no longer minded his gaze. In fact, she looked up with every other word to catch glimpse of it. “You don’t give me bad guy vibes.”
“Oh yeah?” He chuckled. “What if I told you was the baddest of all guys?”
“I’d call bullshit,” She deadpanned and motioned over to his backpack with her head. “Bad guys don’t decorate their backpacks with enamel pins.”
“Oh,” He felt his cheeks warm at sight of the SK8R CAT pin he’d recently added to the small collection of dorky pins that adorned the old bag. She let out a breathy chuckle at his reaction. Dear god, that laugh was intoxicating.
“So why’d you stop playing guitar?” He asked lightheartedly, expecting the woman in front of him to light up at the chance to talk about her obvious passion. Much to his surprise, her face fell and hands paused. It took her aback. “Oh shit. I don’t mean to pry-“
“No, no, it’s fine,” She responded quickly before flashing him a small smile. “I just wasn’t expecting the question is all.. Uh, my brother was our lead singer and he died last year. He got into this huge car crash on the way back from my college graduation. After that, the band unanimously decided to put those days behind us. It just wasn’t the same without his vocals, you know? We played one last time at our drummer and bassist’s wedding.”
“I’m so sorry,” He muttered after a moment of silence. He watched Y/N shrug, keeping her eyes down as she finished up the wrapping. “I mean I don’t think I can really relate to the pain of losing a sibling but losing people you love is just..”
“Fucking awful, huh?” She finished, smiling softly as she finally looked back into his eyes. He raised his brows and nodded. “It’s like your whole world crashes and burns yet everyone still goes on. You hate how the real world just continues and refuses to stop to grieve with you. Then you grow to appreciate it being one constant in your life; the city. The sirens and yelling have become this sort of.. comforting white noise that I can’t sleep without? I don’t know.”
“Yeah, no, I actually get that,” He sighed, readjusting slowly into the couch. “I lost both of my parents as a kid and went to live with my aunt and uncle. I got into an argument with them as a teenager and Uncle Ben went looking for me. He got killed that night. Right in front of me actually. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten over it had it not been for my girlfriend.”
“Jesus Christ..” She breathed, feeling her heart sink at the confession. “Peter, I am so sorry. I can’t even imagine.”
“Oh, it was almost ten years ago now. Gwen really helped me process the pain,” He shrugged. “It really helps to have a support system.”
“Is Gwen available for weekly coffee talks?” She smiled. “She sounds incredible.”
“She really was,” He responded softly. Her lips parted, feeling a sinking feeling in her stomach once again. She placed a reassuring hand on his own and squeezed. It took him aback, her touch.
“I’m sorry,” She whispered. She didn’t let her hand linger for too long to his dismay. Though her hands were cold, her touch warmed him to the bone. It was soothing. The fact that she reached for his hand wasn’t what surprised him; it was the comfort that came with it. “Tell you what, let me clean your face up a bit and then I’ll make us some tea. Nothing like trauma dumping over a cup of chamomile tea.”
“Deal,” He nodded, still thinking about the electric touch.
He normally felt a pang of guilt at the thought of moving on from Gwen, shutting down any feeling towards another person. In his past relationships, it was a mental block that ultimately resulted in a breakup. Maybe it was the fact that she would’ve liked Y/N or that it was simply meant to be; but he didn’t feel anything other than a sense of comfort at the thought of being with the woman in front of him.
He couldn’t believe how organic her touch felt or how naturally their personalities blended with one another. Peter could practically felt the universe pushing them together. He was utterly captivated by this woman; the way she spoke, the way she moved. All he wanted was to get to know her in her entirety. He knew this longing all too well. He felt it with Gwen, but it was different with her.
“Ow!” He hissed as she pressed a small alcohol wipe into his brow. “What happened to a warning?”
“I didn’t think you needed one if you literally saw me coming at you with this wipe,” Y/N giggled.
It was only then he realized how close she was. He could feel her warm breath on his nose as she hovered above him. It was electric, the chemistry. Judging by the way her eyes kept wandering to his own, she felt it too.
“All done,” She smiled, pulling away to collect her small mess. He watched intently as she quickly cleaned up before finally getting up to go to the kitchen. “Chamomile alright?”
“Yeah, um, yeah that sounds great actually,” He smiled. “Do you need help with anything?”
“No, I just need you to sit still and heal,” She responded. He lost sight of her as she disappeared behind a wall. “Do you wanna stay the night? This couch pulls out and it’s pretty comfortable. I’d hate to see you walk home in your condition.”
“Oh, I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” He shook his head before grunting as he got up, disobeying her orders; Peter found himself drawn to her. Greater forces were working and it felt as if he had no control over his body. It longed to be in her presence.
“I thought I told you to sit,” Y/N chuckled as she looked over her shoulder to see his silhouette in the doorway. She paused what she was doing to continue the conversation. “And you wouldn’t be. Your welcome expires at 8:00 AM. I have a meeting.”
“A meeting,” He repeated, leaning against the cursed wall that separated them only moment before. “Sounds very professional.”
“It is!” She grinned proudly, turning back around to continue making the promises tea. “I’m a journalist. My boss put me on this Spiderman project a while back.”
“Oh?” Peter asked cautiously. He’d been so caught up in her world that he’d forgotten his reality.
“I’m actually really excited,” She admitted, turning to look at him every so often. “The Daily Bugle has been spreading hate on Spiderman and convincing people that he’s some menace to society. I mean it would take an actual idiot not to see that he’s a hero. Anyways, I have a New York Times column called The Daily Herald dedicated to debunk everything Jameson says.“
“You’re kidding,” Peter deadpanned. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly was not that. It must’ve been a universal MJ trait, rooting for Spiderman.
“Ew, don’t tell me you actually side with that asshole!” She scrunched her nose, making him laugh at the irony.
“No! No! Not at all, I’m just shocked. That’s a pretty cool job is all,” He responded. “What’s the meeting about tomorrow?”
“He saved a little boy today. Everyone thought he was dead but the kiddo pulled through. He’s expected to make a full recovery. I’m interviewing his mother,” Y/N said casually as she grabbed the tea from her cabinet.
“He survived?!” Peter pushed off of the wall with wide eyes.
“Yeah,” She said, turning around to look at him. His tone demanded her attention. “I was shocked too. He-”
“Wait, I’m sorry. The little boy that was held in the air and thrown to the side by The Collector? That kid is the one who survived?!” He questioned, taking a step forward in excitement.
“That’s the one,” She said slowly, narrowing her eyes at his urgent curiosity. She caught a glimpse of his grin before he turned around to go lean on the wall again. A smile of relief. A smile of someone who knew the child.. or of someone who tried to save him. “Huh..”
“What?” He asked, seeing her face change into one of deep thought.
“Oh, nothing,” She pushed the thought away. It was crazy. This dorky, sweet man couldn’t be.. “Just.. It’s nothing. Can you please just go sit down? I don’t know if those stitches can withstand all of this excitement.”
He nodded slowly, wondering what just went through her mind. He hesitated before walking back to the couch. It was only a few moments later that MJ walked in with two cups of tea. He smiled at the one in her left hand.
“Careful, it’s hot,” She mumbled, setting his cup on the table. His eyebrows shot up at the Spiderman mug that was placed in front of him.
“You even have Spiderman merch?” He giggled, picking up the mug to further examine it.
“Okay, before I look like some obsessed fan, let me explain,” She laughed, blushing at his playfulness. “My best friend bought me that when I scored the job. Stop laughing! I mean it’s a small chunky cartoon version of Spiderman! Isn’t it cute?”
“Very cute,” He chuckled, not taking his eyes off of her as she relentlessly defended the cup in his hand. She smiled as she sat down with a mug that read WE ARE HAPPY TO SERVE YOU. “Is there a story behind that mug too?”
“I went to this diner with my brother a couple years ago and said they had cute cups so the idiot decided to steal one,” She smiled, looking at the cup. “Best diner in the city! I’ll have to take you there sometime.”
Peter looked down and chuckled softly. She said it so casually, as if they hadn’t just met an hour prior. The sense of familiarity was mutual. She smiled as she set her brother’s mug down before turning her body to face Peter.
“Thanks for letting me stay the night,” He mirrored her motions. “It’s not every day that I’m exposed to a kindness. It seems like a rarity in this city.”
“Yeah, the people here kinda suck,” She said nonchalantly. Another laugh escaped from his lips. “But it can be nice though. There’s this sense of anonymity, you know? You’re just a number and you can be whoever you want to be.”
“Yeah, definitely. Lonely but nice at times,” He nodded.
“God, it can be so fucking lonely,” She breathed out.
The two got lost in an organic conversation, talking as though they were lifelong friends. She spoke fondly of her childhood, giggling at the memories of her rambunctious brother. He spoke of his adolescence, recalling simpler times with his uncle and Gwen. They kept the chat platonic; besides the teasing and longing looks.
He liked making her blush. It arose to her cheeks the same way the morning sun set; slowly, subtly at first and then all at once. She covered her face with her hands and giggled when she felt it coming on, which baffled Peter. He couldn’t fathom why she would hide such a beautiful face.
The tea was long gone by the time she finally glanced over her shoulder to look at the time. “Oh my god. It’s a lot later that I thought it was. I should probably set up this couch for you.“
“Here, let me help,” Peter offered, getting up to follow through with the promise.
“No, no, no,” She frowned, grabbing his shoulders to gently move him out of the way. It was the first time he stood up straight; he was taller than she imagined. “You just stand here. I don’t want you to tear your stitches that I worked oh-so hard on.”
“Yes ma’am,” He tried to match her stern tone. She playfully rolled her eyes before methodically placing the couch cushions in the corner of the room. He watched her intently with soft eyes. She entranced him with the way she moved. Everything from how her hips swayed to how she gripped the cushions; he observed with eager attention, similar to the way one does when they watch their favorite movie for the first time. He almost didn’t realize that she was struggling to open the futon. “Y/N. You sure you don’t need help?”
She looked up and huffed in defeat, her hair strung amuck.
“So, here’s the thing,” Y/N sighed, standing back up. “I kind of forgot that my friends broke this thing last weekend. I’ve been meaning to get it fixed, but it won’t open. Just take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“I’m not taking your bed,” He grinned at the absurdity. “I’ll take the couch if you fold it back up.”
“Right. Um,” She hesitated, looking back down at the couch. “I’ll just..”
“You can’t get it to fold up again, can you?”
“Peter, please. Do I look like a complete imbecile? I’ve got this all under control,” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Take the bed. I’ll get this sorted out.”
“I’ll take the bed if you sort it all out in front of me,” He smirked. She pursed her lips.
“Okay! So I can’t get it to fold up again,” She groaned. “I forgot it took three of us to push it back into place last time. I’ll take the floor.”
“No way!” He laughed again.
“Okay.. Then we can sleep together,” She sighed, only realizing how that sounded at the sound of his chuckle. “You know what I mean! Like share the same bed.”
“I’m okay with that,” He responded, feeling his heart speed up at the simple thought of falling asleep next to you.
“Okay,” She nodded, hesitating to walk him to her room. “You’re not like.. secretly a pervert, are you?”
“What?!” Peter laughed. “No, of course not!”
“Okay, I didn’t think so but I just had to ask,” She giggled, walking towards her room. He followed close behind, stopping in his tracks when she paused in the doorway. “Wanna borrow some pajama pants? Or do you prefer to sleep in those tighty whiteys?”
Peter looked down at his white boxer briefs, his jaw dropping offensively. She laughed as she turned back around again and walked towards a small dresser.
“These are not tighty whiteys!” He argued as he followed her into the room. It was incredibly small, but charming nevertheless. She had a bookshelf filled with old books and decorated the walls with vintage paintings. A soft white light lit up the room, giving the room a golden glow. He was surprised at how at home he felt in her apartment. Or maybe it was just the fact that she was there.
“That’s exactly what someone in tighty whiteys would say,” She teased, digging through your closet before tossing him a pair of Star Wars pant bottoms.
“I don’t know what’s worse; tighty whiteys or Star Wars pajamas,” He bit back playfully, slipping into the soft pants. They were obviously meant for men, far too big for her to wear. He hadn’t even thought of the idea that she might be taken; maybe these belonged to a boyfriend. He refrained from asking the question, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.
“So admit it? They’re tighty whiteys?” She laughed, grabbing an old t-shirt and shorts. “And don’t blame me for the nerdy PJs. My brother left them here for whenever he needed to stay the night. He was such a geek. I mean the man was super into math and science and Star Wars.”
“What’s wrong with math and science and Star Wars?” Peter raised a brow as she walked towards the door. She smiled.
“Math is hard. Science is complicated. And Star Wars is beyond bo-“
“Please don’t finish that sentence with boring. You’re actually breaking my heart right now,” He frowned, making her throw her head back in laughter.
“Be right back,” She replied, disappearing behind the door. Peter decided to lie down under the sheets. Once he got comfortable, he looked around at the paintings, admiring the beauty in them. She didn’t strike him as a romantic but the art said otherwise. Quite a few of them were of couples doing mundane things such as walking in the park holding hands or dancing in the kitchen.
“What are you smiling about?” She asked, coming back in wearing the clothes that previously dangled from her arm. He looked over at her for a moment before motioning to the pictures with his head. “Oh, they’re really cool right? I like to go thrifting for vintage pieces. My latest purchase was that old film camera on my bookshelves. I’ve been meaning to fix up for a while now.”
“I might be able to fix it up for you,” He offered as she walked to the other side of the bed. “I love messing with old cameras actually.”
“I might actually have to take you up on that,” She yawned, getting under the covers. Peter bit his lip, resisting the urge to smile. This moment somehow felt like it could be in one of her paintings; a seemingly mundane moment shared by two strangers. One of which was allowing himself to fall for the woman next to him. “Anyways, I’m gonna turn off the light. Feel free to stay as long as you want tomorrow. If you’re not busy, maybe we can grab lunch after my meeting?”
She sounded nervous, as if she had been pondering asking him that for a while. Planning out how to word it and when to say it. He looked over and smiled.
“Only if it’s at that diner you were talking about earlier,” He agreed, speaking in a soft voice. She grinned.
Requested: no Published: January 2nd, 2022 Pairing: Established tasm!Peter Parker x Reader Prompt(s): none Warning(s): none Word count: 2.3k Author’s note: My obsession continues. I’m having waay too much with his character. Also Trixie!
While at it please read my “Way Too Far From Home” one shot because it does not want to appear in the tags no matter how many times I repost it.
“How was school today?”
You stopped fiddling with the asparagus in the corner of your plate. Your mother’s cheerful voice had you reaching for your cup of water if only to give work to your mouth, so you didn’t have to engage. It needed ice cubes, the water, because room temperature with steak for dinner was not a good choice. Still, you downed it because it meant no immediate answer was needed.
Placing the high glass back on the table, you managed an awkward smile and said, “Good.”
Because it was just that.
Good.
Nothing new, nothing special. Only grades and exams and a shit ton of assignments.
“Just good?” She enquired innocently, cutting her steak delicately.
“The steak’s nice,” you said instead. Your mother’s eyes went ablaze at the lack of response, and just as she opened her mouth to demand intimate detail about how your day went, your younger sister jumped out of her seat and pointed at the TV.
“Look mom! Spider-Man!”
“Trixie-” Your mother began to tell her to stay put, but with no avail.
The child of destruction had already leaped for the sofa, throwing herself over the armrest to get a better view of the TV. She rolled over twice between the fluffy blanket before she was happily settled in to watch…
The news.
Your heart leaped in your chest.
But your mother was watching you.
Don’t show it. Don’t show it.
Don’t give her a reason to suspect. Don’t let her know you’re interested (rightfully so) in what had happened to the masked hero. Especially not for the sole reason that it will give her ammo.
The woman had her suspicions.
“HE’S BLEEDING! OH MY GOOD MOM–”
Your eyes widened ever so slightly, and you dug into your mashed potatoes like a lunatic.
“Several eyewitnesses have confirmed what many already knew. Spider-Man had fallen down thirty stories and is currently…”
“How awful,” your mother mused, cradling the wine glass in her hand. She never had a thing for peace makers that weren’t wearing a badge, “Doesn’t Peter know him?”
Should have just given it to me straight, you thought. “No, Peter just takes pictures of him.”
“Just pictures?”
“Yeah?”
“You sure?”
You gave her a look, “I’m pretty sure I would know if my boyfriend was friends with Spider-Man.”
“Not just friends but,” she began conspiratorially, but waved a hand. “Never mind.”
Then, just as fate smiled your way and your mother began succumbing to the wine and lack of interest in your geeky boyfriend (for who she did not know just fell thirty stories!) a sound so close to a falling table reasoned in the hallway.
Your room.
Not the hallway.
“What was that?”
The steak turned ashen in your mouth.
Your little sister felt as though it was her duty to pipe in from the couch, “Maybe there’s someb-”
“A lamp!” You blurted out with vehemence, “The white one from Ikea. I must have left the window open. I should probably-”
You were already running across the living room. “Y/N! Come back here this instant!”
Trixie was cackling on her spot as if shedidn’t leap off the dining table herself. “Zero manners.” You leaned into her face to say the words and snatched the pillow beneath her, ruining her tangled bliss.
“Hey!”
You took two stairs at the time, barging through your room as if you knew a burglar was in there. Scanning the desk, on which the white lamp laid undisturbed, you turned to the beanbag in the corner.
Nothing.
Then the bed.
First thing you said was, “The sheets!”
“What?” Asked Peter groggily, as if he had slept nicely before you came raging through. He twisted in his Spandex suit to release pressure on the silk sheet you were so desperately trying to get away from him. “Your boyfriend’s bleeding and you’re worried about sheets?”
“They’re silk,” you said as if it answered everything, gathering the flowery pattern that kept slipping away. “And you’ll heal.”
He brought out a hand and webs shot out, grasping your wrist and pulling you to the bed when you almost teleported to the other side of the room. Peter was so out of it he just nuzzled himself against your fallen body and murmured an almost drunken, “You smell soo nice babe.”
“Stop it,” you were still hugging the sheets in your arms, willing yourself not give him any attention. You were so angry you could bite his ear clean off.
Stupid invasive thoughts.
“Y/N? Who are you talking to?” Your mother’s voice hollered from downstairs.
Fearing she would trek her merry way upstairs and find you in bed with a bloodied red and blue man (who still wore his mask), you released the sheets and grabbed Peter’s wrist. You lead the dangly muscle clad arm to the direction of the door handle, “Shoot.”
“What?” He mumbled in your neck, sending tingles running.
“Just…” You tried to ignore his warm breath, “Just shoot your webs Peter for the love of everything–”
Pop.
The door handle became a sticky mess, connected to the wall and door by unbreakable web. You sighed in relief and fell back against the pillow. It was silk too, but you didn’t have time to strip it clean. “I need to see those wounds.”
He groaned.
“I’m serious Peter,” you told him. “Take off your shirt. Or suit. Or whatever. Now.”
“So bossy.”
You snatched off his mask yourself, revealing a Peter Parker with nasty cuts all over his face. Upon seeing the look on your face, he brought his bloodied lip out in an innocent, broad smile as his cheek rested squished on your pillow. Blood trailed his face like tears.
“Let me get the aid kit,” you announced. “Clothes are coming off. Now.”
“Yes ma'am,” he smiled, muttering a happy, “Don’t have to tell me twice.”
The aid kit was placed underneath your desk, settled in a big shoebox that once housed knee-high boots but had to give up the space in order for the emergency kit to settle in. “You have an aid kit in your room?”
You felt his eyes on your bottom as you pushed out the white leather chair and crouched beneath the big desk, half expecting to rattle your head against it because of his watchful eyes. His footsteps creaked the laminate flooring as he fought his suit, hopping from one foot to another. “Be quiet!” You said and retrieved the kit. “And yes, I do have an emergency kit in my room because you keep coming to me injured! Now take off the suit.”
“I’m trying,” Peter said beneath the suit that now clawed at his face, acting as a mask when it wasn’t. “I really am babe.” He added when he felt your own fingers attempting to grasp his suit. Every time you pinched a spot, the skintight cloth found it rebellious to slip right through.
“How do you even get this thing off?” You asked him, breathless at the lack of sudden air.
“Lots of practice.” He replied helpfully, his body unmoving as he allowed you to dot all over him. You found a good grasping spot just above his collarbone and yanked, feeling the material finally work alongside you. “And a vicious girlfriend. Ow.”
When at last the suit fell apart, you exhaled in relief but blanched at the sight of his chest.
He kissed your worried face away. “I’m fine.”
“No you’re not,” you stated, pushed him down on the bed.
“Ooohkinky.”
“Shut up,” you couldn’t help but laugh, reaching for the aid kit. “You fell down thirty stories.”
“You saw?”
“No,” you shook your head grimly, settling his head on your lap. “I heard.On the news.”
He visibly cringed, no doubt feeling terrible that you had to found out that way. Was he in the wrong for not telling you that his today’s adventure was probably going to end with him in pain? Yeah, probably, he thought.
“Mom’s been a pain in my butt though,” you told him with fake chirpiness, dabbing the antiseptic on his nose. He seethed but said nothing, being an obedient boyfriend after putting you in such a frenzy. “Almost told her that the punk she calls Spider-Man might very well be her son-in-law. God she’s infuriating.”
Peter smiled big and wide, having heard nothing of what you said save for that one label.
“And Trix?” You began droning on, “It’s like she wants mom to know. Ever since youtold her who you were…”
Peter liked your sister. Liked the filterless kid with all his might. Even the purple temporary color in her hair that she always begged you put on her. He thought it was cute that she already had such a strong personality. Smart mouth and dye in her hair.
And his biggest fan.
Then a knock on the door. Your head whipped mid wound cleaning.
“It’s Trix,” Peter supplied.
You threw a bandage at the door. It didn’t make it farther than Peter’s knee. “Go away!”
“Please!”
Throwing Peter’s head off your lap (gently) you stood up and brushed the creases off your pants. His blood blended with your dark shirt, so you were less worried about traumatizing your sister. You took a step toward the door before Peter pulled you to him. “What are you doing?” You whisper-shouted, careful not to touch his injuries after you landed on top of him.
He mouthed one word. Kiss.
“What for?”
Peter rolled his eyes, “To make it better. It’s a condition.”
“Oh? A condition?” You looked him in the eyes, tilting your head. “You’re setting up contidions?”
“It’s in the contract,” he supplied, running a hand beneath your loose shirt. “Y'know, no big deal.”
“Really? No big deal?”
“Mhmm.”
You were about to make his wish come true when he raised his head and stole one for himself. Then another. And another. “Peter…” You said in between each kiss, giddy despite the fact worry cruised through your veins. “You’re impossible.”
“I know,” he replied proudly and settled back, his torso naked for all to see. Not wanting to traumatize your sister, you at last grabbed the silken material you so desperately tried to save and threw it on him.
“Behave,” you pointed a finger, grabbed scissors off the desk and yanked them into the web. “I believe it’s in the contract.”
“No it’s not.”
“Oh I think it is,” you told him with a light smirk, “It’s under mutuality of obligation. Both parties agree that Peter Parker must listen to his girlfriend at all times,” you pointed at yourself with the scissors. “Aka me.”
His chuckle was the last thing heard before the web broke apart and a small body of a child barreled through, ear first and then the rest of her body following.
“Were you eavesdropping?” You asked your sister after grabbing her by the elbow to prevent her fall.
Trxie fixed you a stare, “No I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were,” you and Peter said at the same time.
Her jaw went slack, “Peter!”
You rolled your eyes, shutting the door after peering into the hallway in search for your mother. “Great now we have an audience.” You said after shutting it.
“How are you feeling?” Trixie asked him, ignoring you. “I saw you on TV.”
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine Trix,” he told her banged up. “No big deal.”
“I knew it,” she said, proud to have guessed right. If only she saw what lay beneath the sheet her hero was covered with. Trixie turned to you, “Mom’s sleeping.”
“Hallelujah.”
“So, Trix,” Peter tried to sound casual as you leaned against the table with your hip, daring him with your eyes to tell her how much it hurt. “H-how’s it going?”
She scooted closer to his head, and he grunted in pain, masking the action by coughing. Your eyebrows reached your hairline.
“Good,” Trixie’s hair fell beside his. “How are you doing?”
“Oh,” he sounded surprised. “I-I’m doing good Trix. Doin’ realgood.”
“Then why’d you fall down thirty stories?”
You couldn’t help but laugh.
“I saw everything,” she announced proudly, twisting until her cheek lay in her palm, elbow digging into the bed and everything. Peter, who still rested on his back looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Somebody filmed you and they played it on the news. It was in slow motion and everything.”
“You probably shouldn’t have seen that,” Peter told her. “Too graphic.”
“So what? I can take it.”
“You’re eight Trixie.”
“And you’re eighteen and can’t even do your job right.”
“O-kay, Trix,” you came in between, grabbing her leg and yanking her toward you. “That’s enough. Thank you for bruising his ego.”
“Yeah, thanks Trix.” Peter added, suddenly sour.
“No problem,” she said, confused as to why she was unrightfully being kicked out but still proud to receive thank yous.
“Yep,” you lead her by the shoulders, “Thanks for the audience kid.”
Just as you were about to close to door in her face did she announce, “Mom said you’re driving me to school tomorrow.”
“Sure,” you said, done with dealing with her. “Might even let Peter swing you there if you leave me alone.”
Her eyes sparkled, “You promise?”
She already had a finger out. You rolled your eyes and looped your pinky through hers. “Now leave us alone.”
“Done!” She skedaddled back to where she came from.
“Impossible,” you muttered after her and closed the door. “Can’t a woman have any peace-”
Peter suddenly stood incredibly close to you, some of his wounds already healed. “Thanks for the help Y/N but I really need to make my payment.”
“It’s in the contract?” You asked him, watching him nod eagerly. “All right then. Come and collect.”
He swooped in and kissed you long, hard and good.
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Summary: The steady and sure rhythm of his heart, blood pumping beneath his skin—it sang to you in its own beautiful, enchanting tune. You knew that men believed your voice to be hypnotic, able to lure sailors to their death, but of all you were capable of, such a thing was not one of them. Perhaps, you silently wondered then, counting the stars in the sky and thinking only of Peter’s freckled face, there was something to be said about the magic of a man’s heart. Words:5.3k A/N: pirate!peter x mermaid!reader; series warnings: 18+ for some graphic violence (sword-fighting, stabby-stab); cursing; slightly obsessive!peter; imprisonment; non-con touch; mentions of: death, food, injuries; light smut; fem!reader; making up my own mermaid lore sorry; vee tries to write action scenes plz validate me. if you like what you read, comments/reblogs make the world go round. part ½ because i couldn’t quite help myself oops…
It was the pungent scent of blood curling itself into your nostrils that first alerted you to his presence. On any other day, you might have left happenings to unfold as they would, but on this day, the smell brought with it an unfamiliar churning in your gut, an anguish at the thought of not intervening. As it was, you careened through the water with grace, following that sharp odor, out of place in this world as only a man’s blood could be.
As you swam, memories slithered their way into your mind, visions of drowning men you had long ago saved, those you had not been quick enough to rescue, and those you had left to watery graves. This was a distraction you did not, in your haste, heed. Instead, you focused on the way the water broke around you and the schools of brightly-coloured fish that parted in your wake. It was not that you were drawn forward, pulled toward this bleeding man. No, it seemed it was the weight of loneliness that pressed you forward, spurred you on from behind, like hands on your shoulders, urging you into the arms of the unknown.
Of all the life beneath the seas, yours was amongst the most solitary. There were so few of your kind left, and those that remained kept to themselves, hidden in the darkest recesses of the depths. What else could one do, having been hunted to the brink of oblivion, having passed into myth and legend? You’d known men—and women—in the past, and loved them in spite of their mortality. You’d felt the sting of their deaths, knowing that while you would surely die one day, by sword or decay, it was fated to be long after those who went before you. And for so long you remained isolated, a self-imposed reclusiveness sheltering your heart.
Time, when left to its own devices, stretched out in front of you in an endless path. But once you needed it to, it would not slow. There was something intriguing in the smell of him and so you pressed on, determined.
You smelled the drowning man before you saw him. The coppery scent of blood gave way to the musk of dirty clothes, the rot and waste of a prison cell. As you neared, his form began to come into focus, the long and sturdy limbs of a sailor, an unkempt beard and ragged clothes telling of neglected months.
Coming up behind him, his long hair tickling your face, you wrapped your arms around his torso, straining as you swam toward the bright light glinting above, a sign of sunlight and air. All you needed to do was get him to air, provide the opportunity for him to take that life-saving breath.
As you breached the surface of the water, your own lungs were burning. You’d stayed under longer than you’d intended, distracted, and the gulps of fresh air that filled your chest caused pain and relief to ripple through you simultaneously. With each breath, your chest rose and fell with less tightness, allowing you a chance to feel for a pulse at the neck of this discarded man. Two fingers pressed into the soft tissue at the base of his throat, searching, searching, searching.
There.
A faint thump, weaker than the rays of light that penetrated storm clouds, but there nonetheless. With a surge of energy, drawn from somewhere deep within yourself, you swam to the surface, dragging the limp and heavy body of the man with you. Pausing for a moment, you closed your eyes and briefly let one hand wander from your charge, fingers working a cadenced pattern just below the surface. All at once, water surged around you, buoying you up and forward. Your arms enfolded the man once more, your focus on keeping him close. You trusted the ocean to bear you accordingly.
Can’t find the request that came through for this one but it was along the lines of a “who did this to you?” with our boy, Peter Parker tw: mentions of ab*sive relationship; implied violence, injury, mentions of food; reader has internalized victim shaming; read with care please and know that you are loved
You round the corner to Peter’s apartment with tears so heavy in your eyes you can barely see. The New York sidewalk is just a blur of vaguely human shapes that you carefully weave around, good at dodging, at avoiding.
When you press the button to buzz Peter, you half-expect him to not be home and just as you’re about to construct a slipshod Plan B, his voice crackles over the intercom, confused before you let him know it’s you and even more confused after you reveal as much.
Why didn’t you text? Thespeaker makes his voice gravelly and distant.
“Don’t have my phone,” you reply, rocking on the balls of your feet. You don’t add that there hadn’t been time to grab it, to take anything of value other than yourself, though you kept wondering vaguely what exactly that value was. You pull your sweater down over your balled up fists and swipe at your tears just as you hear the apartment door click open.
C’mon up.
You step into the cramped space between the door and a flight of stairs that leads to the apartments above the Chinese takeout place Peter lives over. The smell of oil and fried dough wraps itself around you and your stomach growls, desperate for an egg roll now that you realize you haven’t eaten since yesterday at lunch.
Then you hear Peter’s door open overhead, and his frenetic footsteps as he takes the stairs down two at a time, ever energetic. Blinking, you suddenly regret coming here at all, worry washing over you when you imagine what’s going to happen next. You can already see the shift in Peter’s mood unfolding in your mind, that leap from excited golden retriever puppy to guarded and dark.
“Hey Bug,” he greets you, about to wrap you up in a hug when he freezes, his face still save for a small twitch at the corner of his mouth. You know that look—it’s his Spidey sense kicking in. And you know it’s your fault. You take a small step back, giving yourself as much space as you can in the tiny entryway. Peter recovers with a shake of his head. If you were watching him, you’d see his gaze scanning you carefully, but as it is, you can only stare at the worn out toes of your sneakers.
“What happened?” Peter’s voice is firm, but when you finally look back up at him his eyes are soft. Until he sees the split lip you’re sporting. And the red-rimmed eyes that are dangerously close to hollow in your face. Then his eyes grow wide and there’s a fire in them you’ve never seen before, not even when those guys mugged the two of you coming home from a movie one night.
“Peter.” The way you say his name, so quiet and afraid, has him crumbling inside. He swallows the almighty rage that’s humming in his chest, forces his fists to unclench so he can get nearer to you. There will be time for anger later, so he bites it back and it tastes suspiciously like arsenic as it courses back into his stomach.
But you don’t step away this time, allowing him to pull you close, to take your chin in one hand and gingerly swipe a thumb over where you’re hurting. It’s not the only place you’re hurting, he knows, but it’s the only one he can see, the only tangible thing he can do right now that isn’t punching a hole into the wall.
“Who did this?” His question is a whisper of a threat because he already knows. Something about the new guy you’d been bringing around never sat right with him, but how could he tell you that without sounding like he was jealous, truly and madly in love with you? It was nothing but his sixth sense, he’d told himself. And suddenly he’s angry again, this time at himself.
“We…” you begin, tears lining your lashes again. Peter shushes you, pulls your face into his chest, but you break free, shaking your head. You want to tell him. You need to tell him. “We were arguing. It got…ugly. Peter…he’s never done this before and—”
“Fucking hell,” Peter blurts out, rough enough to make you cringe. He’s apologizing immediately, cooing soft words into your hair. “Bug,” he mumbles, “Don’t make excuses for him.”
“I’m not.” It comes out snappishly, a sting in your tone that is at odds with your bawling eyes. “If he…” you pause to sniffle, to wipe your runny nose on your sleeve. “If he’d ever done this before…I would have already left. I need you to know that, Peter. I…I wouldn’t, I’m not…”
You don’t know how to say you don’t want to be a victim. You don’t want to file a police report or have Peter beat the shit out of your now-ex, or consider yourself victimized. That’s not you. It was neversupposed to be you. It would never happen to you…
But it did.
“Hey,” Peter whispers, and the pity in his voice sends another fresh wave of tears rolling down your cheeks. He sighs, pulls you in for a hug, knows there’s nothing he can say right now. He could tell you it’s not your fault. Tell you it’ll all be okay. Tell you that there are groups in the city who can help with this sort of thing—he’s brought enough women to them that he’s had to stop counting for his sanity. But none of that is what you need to hear right now. There’ll be time for anger later. Time for what comes next, but later. “I’m gonna carry you upstairs, okay?”
“Okay,” you breathe into his chest, making yourself small as Peter effortlessly scoops you into his arms and climbs the stairs back to his apartment. He doesn’t stop until he’s set you down on his bed and tucked you under the blankets. You’re exhausted, you realize, but your stomach growls again and your body feels like it’s at war with itself.
“I’ll go get some egg rolls, yeah?” Peter says, brushing a stray hair from your face. He pulls the box of tissues from his nightstand onto the bed and lays it on the pillow next to your face. Gently, he plucks a tissue and dabs at your streaked makeup. “And some ice for your lip.”
“Yeah,” you nod, eyes heavy. You feel safe here, as though you’re protected from everything that would harm you, even your own thoughts. “And then will you stay with me?”
summary:one thing led to another and the argument you had with peter a couple weeks ago put a rift in your relationship, when spiderman comes in unannounced at your pit party, it only opens a door to two idiots finding their peace with one another.
genre:angst, ex-friends(ish) to lovers, fluff
word count: 3.2k+
note:this is just a blurb i wrote bc nothing is working out for me rn so i needed to destress with this fine ass man
As much as it was difficult to discern between the glossiness of your eyes and the blurry skylines of Queens, you really wanted to guess it was tears that were causing this.
The wind was biting and unforgiving, and although you had initially thought it would be this chilly, there was a whole new set of emotions that sent your body in a rigid form.
There was a box of pizza next to you, and even if your stomach rumbled, you knew you couldn’t hold the food down for long.
With the air that rushed past your ears and the erratic thumping in your weak chest, you missed the little thump that came from behind you.
“Whoa…” Your shoulders froze at the voice, “You’re not um,” You whipped your neck around, mouth falling open in surprise when you saw who it was, “You’re not thinking of jumping, are you?”
Despite his wide popularity, especially around your area, you had never seen the hero before, and seeing spiderman up close was definitely much more intimidating than you thought it would be.
He was clad in his infamous red suit, though his voice was certainly much deeper than you expected it to be. Perhaps even fake? It sounded far too low for any normal human being.
You felt your cheeks heating up in his presence regardless, embarrassed that the celebrated hero found you in such a vulnerable state, and you quickly swatted at your cheeks to rid them of any tear tracks.
“I-” You paused, not knowing if you should bow or courtesy or shake his hand, and you suddenly felt your mouth running dry as you continued to just stare at him, “Mr, um, spiderman? It’s such an honor, oh god, if only my friends were here, oh wow…” You trailed off, rambling as you paced back and forth, heartbeat picking up as you stuttered to a stop.
“No! I’m not um,” You suddenly remembered his original question as you glanced behind you, to the ledge you were sitting on, and gulped, “Not thinking of j-jumping.”
His little eyes narrowed and you took a step back, picking at your nails as you nervously looked back at him, not knowing what you should do.
You watched in silence as he gazed around you, noting the little blankets you had laid out, the pizza box left untouched, the little cupcakes you had made earlier, the laptop whose screen faded to black after some time of no use, and you could almost see the questioning in his spider-eyes.
Peter, in all his glorious honesty, didn’t know why he was here.
From the way it had been going the past couple of weeks, it seemed that you no longer wanted anything to do with him. The arguing had gotten to such a point he genuinely questioned if you could even stand being in the same room as him, let alone spend quality time together.
But he knew you too well, your apartment building too well, and seeing your frame on that rooftop worried a part of him he never knew was there.
Aside from your awkward shuffling, it seemed that you were either nervous from him being here, or just not expecting any company guessing on the layout, but a part of him itched, no, ached to speak with you again, even if it wasn’t on knowing terms.
You, however, half expected him to leave, seeing that his hero duty was out of the way. If you weren’t going to jump, then he’d have no use being here. But he seemed quite intent on staying if his awkward posture said anything about it.
“That’s um, that’s good,” He faltered when he saw you looking at him, quickly glancing somewhere else as he tried to think of logical reasoning behind you being up here.
“Are you havin’ a party up here or something?” He finally asked after a couple of seconds of uncomfortable silence.
You must have had a shockingly surprised look on your face for the little laugh that escaped his lips, and you gave him a small smile, and then a nod.
“Yeah, um, actually,” You rubbed the back of your head as you looked at the pitiful scene, “Can’t say it’s been such a success, though,” You gave a sad snort, kicking some little pebbles aside as you waited for him to respond again.
He began walking around a bit, scooping out the rooftop as he looked over his shoulder, waiting for you to explain.
“What’s the party for?” You watched intently, deciding whether or not to tell the famous hero the truth, but you figured this would be the last you’d be seeing of him, so you shrugged, sitting down near the ledge as you rested your chin on your elbows, peering out into the skyline as you answered.
“My birthday,” You sighed, trying your best to bit back the tears you had so terribly fought against the past hour, “But uh,” You gnawed on your lip from keeping it from wobbling, “Not many people showed up if I’m being honest.”
Unbeknownst to you, since your back was to him, Peter stopped instantly upon your words, heart freezing in his chest as he watched your breathing become a bit ragged.
No, it couldn’t have been today. It had to have been in a couple weeks, it had to be, but as he counted the days down in his head he could only come to one faithful number.
“So,” He clenched his fists, grateful that you couldn’t see him, “Who came?” Please, he prayed, let Gwen have to remember to come.
You took in another shaky breath, really hoping that the masked hero had terrible hearing as you shrugged, quickly wiping at your eyes as you harshly bit your cheek.
“Nobody,” You breathed roughly through your nose, “But it’s okay, actually,” You looked back at him, trying to look your strongest as you pointed to the pizza and cupcakes, “I’ll probably just celebrate with my parents when they come back from their trip.” You felt your voice get quieter and quieter in embracement. Eventually, you just shut up as you let the roar of car honking take over.
For once, he was grateful you didn’t know of his identity. It helped him a bit by looking like less of a dick as he slowly approached you, still formulating the words to make up for his unmasked counterpart.
“Well, they’re all terrible friends, then,” He said carefully, calculating your response.
Even so, he didn’t want to blame her for a mistake that was his fault. He knew he should have taken the blame for the falling out you had a while ago, but his ego was far too big to accept something like that.
So instead, he just brought you down with him, when he knew damn well it wasn’t your fault.
But instead, curse your evergrowing heart, you let out a soft giggle, rubbing your nose to hide the snot as he crouched down a bit further from you.
Never in your wildest dreams would you have guessed you’d be spending your birthday with the spiderman. Even if you were crying your eyes out in front of him, it felt a little better to be with someone than to be alone.
“It’s kinda on my end, if I’m being honest,” You admitted, giving a wet chuckled as you glanced at his mask, gnawing on our bottom lip as you decided if you should tell him the truth.
“Oh?” Peter wanted to know more, who you wanted to blame, but spiderman just had to act curious, and a part of him felt terrible for lying to you like.
In all your years of knowing you, you’ve never done anything to deliberately hurt him. Push him sometimes, sure, but that’s what your friendship was. Cheesy jokes, lame movie jabs, and hours spent struggling over chemistry homework because the teacher just refused to hold any office hours.
“Yeah,” You heaved out another sigh, turning around as you leaned back on the bricks, “I haven’t really been speaking to them, but…” You trailed off, deep in thought. You knew the texts went through, so it was only up to them to ignore it.
You hoped, in a sense, that this would reconcile things between your group. You could count on a singular hand how many times this had happened before, and you really tried your best to use things you knew they liked to get them to ease up a bit.
“It’s no excuse for them not to come. They’re your friends,” He firmly said in his deep voice, and despite his serious tone, you let out another laugh, stopping instantly when you felt as though you were disrespecting him.
His eyes narrowed again, but under his mask, he felt his lips quirk up in a small smile, thankful to have made you laugh somehow, even if it was indirectly caused.
“What?” He questioned, but even then, it might have been the ain you felt or just how tired you were from everything, you chortled again.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that,” You pointed weakly to his mask, “Your voice is a bit, well,” You bit your lip, thinking of the right worm “Distorted.”
Peter grinned, shifting his posting so that he was crossing his knees, facing you as he shrugged, playing with the hem of the blanket as he answered.
“Can’t have ya’ bumping into me on the street and recognizing me by voice, that’s just a hassle for me to clean up,” He really hoped you could tell that he was teasing despite his messed up tone, but your chest rumbled as you let out a stronger laugh, still stuffy from your crying, but still, improvement.
“Threatening to kill an innocent citizen? Surely that can’t look good on your record,” You joked back and he let out an audible sigh of relief.
“Not kill,” His hands bumped your shoe on accident as he situated himself more comfortably on the floor, “There are more ways to make someone quiet.” Peter truly knew none of them.
And just like that, you and Peter fell into your little playful banter, and after he wondered why he felt so full after being so empty these past couple of weeks, and with a solemn, guilty look at you, he knew why.
“Do you want some pizza?” You offered randomly, and almost wanted to bury yourself deep in a pile of sand for even speaking.
“Pizza?” His head turned to the box as if he’d never heard the word before.
“Yeah,” You shrugged, “It’s a bit cold though. But for everything you do for New York, you can have a slice, as long as you promise not to kill me when you see me on the street,” You sent him a little wink and behind the mask, Peter wanted to hide his face in his hands for blushing.
“You sure?” He was hesitant in even asking the question. What would you think if you knew it was him under that mask? Surely you wouldn’t offer the pizza to the Peter you knew.
“Yeah, f'course,” You pushed the box to him, and then your little tupperware of cupcakes as well, “You can have some of these if you’d want, too.”
His hands faltered over the box.
“Really?” It felt wrong eating this food. This had to be crossing some sort of friendship, ex-friends, on the brink, whatever the two of you were, line.
“Take as many as you’d like,” You assured him as you pushed them in his direction, ducking your face in your hands, entirely angeling your back towards him as he stopped his movements.
“What are you doing?” He asked and you felt your brows furrow at the obvious question.
“Giving you privacy, of course,” You responded as if it was the only explanation.
He chuckled, shaking his head as you peaked over at the ground, only for him to be peering back up at you, and you let out a quiet yelp.
The bottom of his mask was lifted up, and you could only see his mouth and the tip of his nose as he waved to you.
“Thankfully you can stare at me all you want, this mask can be detached.” You felt your cheeks warm up at his words, especially now that you could actually hear his real voice.
“You are aware that I now know what you sound like, right?” You tilted your head to the side, and almost laughed when the pizza stopped right at his mouth, and you heard him let out a quiet shit before he went back to eating.
After he was done chewing, and gulped dryly, trying to see if you knew who he really was.
“Guess I’ll just have to take you out now,” He went for a cupcake, noting that it was chocolate, your least favorite flavor, and as he looked at you he wondered why you would have ever made these for your birthday.
“Gonna kill me on my birthday?” You rested your head back, looking up at the cloudy sky as you let out a deep breath, taking into account the sounds of happiness he made when he bit into the sweet.
“Nah,” You peeked at him, seeing the little chocolate crumbs that cornered his lips and smiled, “I told ‘ya; there are more ways than just one.”
You feel your hands balling into fists the more he ate, almost feeling like throwing the laptop at his head if it wasn’t for the damage that would follow in suit.
“Hey, Pete?” You asked, testing out your suspicion the moment you heard him speak.
“Yeah?”
His second cupcake fell from his hand as he slowly looked up, eyes widening as a look of fury overtook your features, standing up quickly as you stalked away, almost running as you tried to get to the stairs.
“H-hey! Wait up! Y/n!” You heard him calling your name, the sound getting closer and closer until a hand wrapped itself around your wrist, gently tugging you back.
You didn’t expect to bump right into his chest, looking up and see his bare face, brown eyes filled with worry, hair falling into his face as he tried to carefully hold you down.
“Getoff me!” You yelled, pushing his hands aside in a weak attempt as you felt new waves of tears rolling in, a new feeling flooding your veins, your brain, your heart as yous tared up a somebody you thought you had never before until tonight.
He’d never told you? Had he told Gwen? Aunt May?Why didn’t he come? This had to be why he’d always show up to class with poorly-covered bruises on his face and say they came from slipping on the stairs. The questions shakily flooded your thoughts as Peter tried his best to stop you from squirming around.
“Y/n, come on, please give me a se-” You stopped, sending him a deathly looking glare as he ducked his head in shame.
“What are you thinking?” You seethed, pushing against his chest as you assessed his uniform, “Spiderman, really? Pete y-you can’t be a hero right now, you’re too young! It’s so dangerous! A-and you have school! A-and May!” You yelled, walking wildly around as you gripped your scalp in defiant anger.
“Y/n…” He followed you around, but you shook your head, pointing a finger into his chest as you tried to wipe at your eyes to hide your weakness from him.
“God, fuck you, Peter! You stop talking to me for weeks and then show up hours after I texted you to come?” He felt his resolve shatter as your lips wobbled.
“Do you hate me? Just say it, please, I-I can’t do this anymore!” You threw your hands up, going back to gnawing on your nails as you paced around, “You always flake on me, but then I see you hanging out with Gwen hours later and I just feel so stupid…” You stopped shaking and he instantly wrapped his arms around your frame, feeling your cheek pressed against his chest as you silently sobbed.
“Why didn’t you come, Pete?” You whispered against his suit.
He didn’t know. He didn’t want to lie to you, not ever, so he stayed silent.
“Do you hate me?” You felt so weak, hands against him, trying to push away but knowing that in the end, you’d never stray far away from the comfort that was him.
“God, no, Y/n,” He quickly shook his head, his hand rubbing a slow hand over your spine, his gloved hands still warm in a sense as he pressed his cheek to the top of your head, “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you,” He said, voice heavy as he felt slow hands wrap themselves around his waist.
“Then why,” You pressed your lips together to stop the quiet sob, “Why didn’t you come?”
He faltered. Before he could stop himself, he felt the truth tumbling out into a spew of words he no longer had control over but had longed to say for so long.
“Because I’m in love with you, Y/n,” He felt you stop under his hands, “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. A-and I know, I knowI shouldn’t have yelled at you that night but you just scared me so much that I didn’t know what to do. Y-you came in with scratches all over your face and I just forgot about your cat…” He trailed off, pulling away from you as he tried to search your eyes for a reaction, anything to tell him that he wasn’t speaking to a wall.
“You love me?” You whispered back, hands hovering over his as you almost couldn’t believe what he had just said.
Your breathing stopped as he slowly shook his head, not knowing if your question was good or bad.
“I-I well, love is such a broad term that you can’t really kno-”
“I love you too.” You stuttered out, and he stopped at your words, looking down at you as if you had hung the moon and stars and had just spoken the unforbidden words of truth he had only hoped to hear in his dreams.
He stopped, hands working almost like a clockwise motion as they carefully moved up your face, tracing your features as if he had never seen them before.
“Really?”
You nodded, but then glared at him, with no real malice in your eyes.
“Doesn’t excuse you for not coming to my birthday, though.” His hand still traveled up, cupping your cheek as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“I know, I promise I’ll make it all up to you this entire month. Anythin’ you ask for darlin’, I’ll give you everything.” It was a promise his confession wouldn’t even need, but he wasn’t lying. He’d give you the entire world if he could.
“You better,” you muttered as he lifted you up to his lips, feeling them fall onto yours as they moved in tangent, almost as if they were meant to be there, and despite being in a spiderman suit, covered in crumbs and pizza sauce, hours late to your party, in a sense, you couldn’t have asked for anything else as a gift.
synopsis: Peter Parker has been your best friend for years. After you develop a relationship with somebody else, you see a side of him you’ve never seen before.
content warnings: RAPE/NONCON, blood,dark!peter parker, plus size!reader, negative self talk, insecurities, slow burn, implied stalking, oral (f! receiving), slapping, degradation, spit, unproteced sex, creampie, lmk if i missed any
He had shyly approached you, a blush high on his cheeks as he handed you a stack of papers. Confused, you simply stared at them, eyebrows cinched and lips slightly downturned.
You were well aware of who Peter Parker was. He was a member of the Midtown Academic Decathlon team that you were also part of; though you never directly interacted it’s him due to your nerves. He seemed kind, he was lanky and a little geeky, making him the butt of a lot of jokes. Much like you were. For opposite reasons, of course.
You were often teased and ridiculed for your size. You were heavier and much curvier than other girls your age. You had a puffy face and a matching plump body, most people couldn’t look past that. So, to say the least, you weren’t very popular.
Peter Parker knew all about you. He had been watching you since your freshman year. He was absolutely mesmerized when first laid eyes on you. He swears he had never seen a more beautiful sight than you, taking little, shy steps like you were afraid to make your presence known. Your hair was done in the way he would grow to like best, and you wore a pretty blue plaid skirt and a white sweater. The skirt was a tad too long and he could sense your discomfort as you tugged it down even further. He remembers staring at you as you looked around with unfamiliarity and slight fear in your eyes. The innocence in your eyes was also hard to miss. You held textbooks to your chest, an attempt to conceal your tummy. He watched as you stood alone, your cute nose making slight movements as you stood. Your nose wiggled like a little bunny. He felt the desire to protect you, keep you next to him and out of harm’s way. He regrets not approaching you that day. It would have saved you from a lonely year.
“I was told to give these to you,” he said silently, “I heard you missed a few days.”
“Oh,” you breathed, taking them from him, your chubby hands looking silly against his thin, veiny ones. Peter thought they looked perfect together. “Thank you, Peter,” you said, quickly pulling your hands away and hiding them behind your back when you saw his gaze on them.
His eyes lingered on where your hand was against his before he looked up at you and gave you a bright smile, “no problem.”
Peter walked you to your class after that, taking the empty seat beside you and discussing the subject matter with you. And to your surprise, he followed you to your next class, and the next, and the next. By the end of the day you were quite fond of the boy. He was a lot kinder than you’d imagined, he even promised to see you the following morning for breakfast with Ned and MJ. Of course, you tried to decline but he wouldn’t let you leave without the promise of arriving on time.
This was years ago and your friendship had only gotten stronger.
Being friends with Peter was refreshing and comforting. He wasn’t like the other guys you’d met in university. He didn’t have any ulterior motives nor did he fetishize you. He did not attempt to coerce you, or manipulate you into getting what he wants because you owedit to him. No, Peter would never do that.
Peter was actually the one to look after you, he made you aware of what those who sought you were really after. They want to take advantage of you, bunny, he’d said several times. They want to ruin you. He would never elaborate on what he meant when he said that and you didn’t like to pry. He just had a good judge of character is all.
Of course Ned and MJ were your friends too and they were very nice to you as well, but you always felt that they were only acquainted with you for Peter’s sake. You never hung out with them without Peter present but you tried not to let it bother you.
Your goal for the year was to acquire your own circle of friends, maybe even get a boyfriend after being single your entire life. Peter had a few girlfriends here and there, though nothing was ever serious. You couldn’t help but feel slightly envious of him, he had grown to be quite attractive, making it easy for him to make connections.
He had lost the baby fat on his cheeks, his jaw was now angular and his strong bone structure was one of his most prominent features on top of his big, brown eyes and muscular body. He was muscular in a lean way, a way that isn’t entirely noticeable under the sweaters he always wore.
Today Peter sat across from you, latte in hand as he basked in the morning sun. His tight black shit highlighted his muscular arms and chest, you caught yourself staring as you sometimes did when he ditched the ill-fitting clothing. His chocolate brown curls framed his face beautifully, looking golden where they met the sun. His lips, colored like pink peonies, rested with the slightest pout.
You sipped your london fog, squinting as you looked up in search of the singing bird in the tree above your head. You caught sight of it. The creature’s delicate red feathers looked like fire in the golden sky as it flew away. Your stare fell on Peter again, “our 8AM lecture was cancelled today.”
Peter hummed, not moving from his previous state, “I know.”
You huffed, “why’re we here, then?” you set your cup down, “it’s way too early. We, no I, should be in bed.”
Peter’s lips quirked up into a smile, “I wanted to hang out.”
“At six thirty A.M.? We could’ve hung out at a more reasonable hour, like, I don’t know, eleven,” you began ranting and you saw one of Peter’s eyes open slightly. “Or maybe twelve, we could’ve gotten breakfast or… or brunch!”
“You never eat breakfast,” he said, swinging his head forward, eyes now fully open and on you.
“I do…” you claimed, your nose scrunching, lips pouting.
Peter clicked his tongue, “not enough.”
“Well, whatever,” you opted to change the subject before he could continue further.
“We still could’ve met up later. Like I said, brunch.”
“I don’t know,” he began, sitting up all the way now, “I kinda like being out this early. It’s nice and quiet.”
“I guess so,” you murmured, leaning back to rest on your elbows.
Peter watched you, gaze moving from your Mary Jane clad feet to your pretty hair. You wore a dress today. It was Peter’s favorite dress, not that you knew that. It was a lilac purple color and it had short, puffy sleeves. He liked the way the dress clung to your curves and complimented your skin tone. It was the shortest of all your dresses, so he especially liked the way it rode up your thighs when you sat down, making your pudgy thighs all the more visible to him. He stared at them now, noticing the way the plush fat pooled around you like a sea of soft flesh as you relaxed. He wanted to grab them, bury his face in them and drown in you.
His eyes ran up your body further, over the curve of your tummy and swell of your breasts. The necklace Peter had gifted you last Christmas sat prettily around your neck, resting on your bare chest above the heart shaped neckline of your dress, rising and falling as you breathed. He stared at it, not noticing when you opened your eyes to look at him.
“Okay?” he heard you ask.
“Mhm,” he replied, tearing his eyes away and giving you a soft smile.
+
The morning had passed rather quickly and you perked up after your second tea of the day. Your last class of the day was your creative writing class. As you strode in, you took your usual seat in the front of the room, setting your things down beside you.
Your focus was on the board in front of you when you felt a gush of air on your left. You looked over, catching sight of a tall figure sitting down beside you.
“Hey,” the man exhaled, setting down his things next to yours.
You opened your mouth to respond but you ended up holding your hand up to signal a hello.
The man smiled, “I’m Harry,” he held a hand out for you to shake.
You looked at it, quietly introducing yourself as you took his pale hand. Your touch was featherlight as it took you by surprise when he gripped it tightly with a slight laugh.
Harry was effortlessly charming. He was cute and cool and he had a sharp sense of humor, you learned. But on top of that, he had a contagious smile and a gaze that made you feel like you were the most important person in the room. You often caught yourself gazing at him with the corner of your eye trying to be inconspicuous with your staring. He had shiny blonde hair that you thought resembled Peter’s. Only lighter and shorter and straighter and not really like Peter’s at all.
You weren’t sure why your mind had suddenly wandered to Peter. Maybe a part of you wondered what he would think of Harry. Or maybe you were subconsciously comparing them. You weren’t sure.
“Hey, um,” you turned towards Harry who had begun speaking. Class had ended and you were gathering your things. “We should meet up,” he grinned, “maybe the library?”
You weren’t used to social invitations, much less from men like Harry.
“Does tomorrow at four work for you?”
You nodded, unable to find your voice. You felt blood rush to your face at the look he gave you next. It was like he was trying to figure you out, understand you with a simple glance. Like he was trying to read you like a book.
“Great,” he picked up your bag for you, “looking forward to it.”
+
Peter was laying on your bed when you arrived at your little studio apartment. He was half asleep, strong arms wrapped tightly around your stuffed bunny and surrounded by your assortment of other stuffed animals. He shot up at the sound of the door opening, “hey.”
“Do you ever go home?” you kicked off your shoes and set your bag down. “This place isn’t big enough for the both of us.”
In his mind it was. Just perfect. It kept you close.
“Why would I? You’re such good company, bunny.”
You snorted, “I’m sure that’s the reason and definitely not you trying to get away from Ned and Betty.”
You moved towards your bed, plopping down next to him, adjusting the skirt of your dress that had ridden up when you landed. Peter watched your hands as they rested on your tummy. He could see right down your dress. He could see the white bra hugging your tits, a little bow between the cups.
“What?” you asked, self consciously moving your hand to your chin.
“Nothing. Don’t do that,” he looked at the ceiling. It bothered Peter when you did things like that. As if you weren’t the most beautiful person he had ever seen.
You simply huffed, “how did you even get in here?”
He motioned toward the open window, “you really need to start locking it. One of these days a creep could just come waltzing in and you’d have no idea.”
“A creep like you,” you joked with a breathy laugh. You tore your stuffed bunny from his arms.
“Worse,” he said lazily.
Silence filled the room for a few seconds as Peter began to doze off again.
“I met this guy in class today.”
Peter was suddenly very awake. “Oh,” a pause, “who?”
“He said his name is Harry, I don’t know his last name but he was very nice.” You sounded excited, “we’re meeting up at the library tomorrow to study and get some work done.”
Get some work done. Sure, that’s what you were gonna do. Peter knew better than that. You didn’t, of course. That’s why you were so lucky to have Peter with you, by your side, protecting you from evil college guys who just wanted to get under your skirt. They wouldn’t have a clue what to do to you. How to make you feel good and have you purring sweetly in their ears…
“So, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t break into my home.”
“Huh?”
You gave him an unamused look, “you weren’t listening.”
He grinned, “I’m always listening.”
You rolled your eyes, “I said, don’t come by just in case we come back here.”
Peter furrowed his brows in disgust. What business would hehave coming back to your apartment if you were just going to study? Did he ask you if he could come over?
“Why would you do that?”
You shifted uncomfortably, “I don’t know…”
Peter felt sick.
“We should do something else instead. There’s a new vietnamese place not far from here. MJ says they have really good pho.”
“Peter…” you started. He knew you were going to say no. You rarely said no to him. “How about Friday? We can get takeout and come back here and watch movies. Your pick.”
His first mistake was looking over at you. Your chubby cheeks and pretty lips pulled up into a sweet smile. Your eyes were pleading, please say yes, please say yes. His second mistake was giving in.
“Fine.”
+
Peter left your apartment shortly after that. You had spent the rest of the night going over the conversation trying to figure out where you went wrong. He had seemed upset as he hugged you goodbye. His brown eyes didn’t hold the same warmth they always did. Maybe he thinks I’m trying to replace him. But that wouldn’t make any sense. You only just met Harry. You didn’t know anything about him besides his first name.
“Hey!” Harry called, a tad too loudly for the library. He stood from his seat, waving you over.
In all honesty, you didn’t expect him to be there. It was a little before four and you had arrived with low expectations. Though this was only intended to be a study session and nothing more, Harry was a very attractive man. He was funny and charming and extroverted and you… were none of those things.
“Hi,” you mumbled as you neared the table he was seated at. It was in the far corner, furthest away from the librarian. Or any of the other stressed university students.
“I chose this table so we won’t have to whisper,” he smiled, patting the open seat beside him.
His eagerness made you blush. “Good idea,” your voice was still small.
He chuckled, “thanks,” he dramatically whispered.
You blushed further, “sorry.”
The both of you were silent as you took out your laptops.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for some time now,” he started. “I read one of your pieces when the semester started and I really enjoyed it. You’re a phenomenal writer.”
“Really?” he appeared nonchalant as he typed in his password. As if he hadn’t just given you the kindest compliment you had ever received.
“Yeah, it’s so obvious how passionate you are. I mean everytime I look at you, you look so entranced by the books you read or by the professor or your own work.”
He looked at you?
“Oh,” your face felt warmer, “um, thank you.”
He smiled at you, “no problem, it’s true.”
You felt butterflies in your tummy and you began to log into your laptop to avoid looking at him.
You began to work in silence, hyper aware of everytime Harry leaned in close to you, reading your story as you typed. He smelled of musk and vanilla. His head of blonde locks tickled your ear.
Eventually, you presumed he grew bored as he shut his laptop and turned to face you in his chair. You attempted to ignore him but your typing began to slow and your focus was only on the boy beside you.
You gave him a faux look of annoyance, “I thought we were here to study.”
“We are,” he propped his head up on his hand that rested on the table. “To study and get to know each other.”
Get to know each other.
That was unexpected.
You couldn’t ignore the butterflies that erupted in your tummy, “Oh, okay, yeah.”
Surprisingly, you had a decent amount in common with Harry. Of course, not overly so. Not like you and Peter. But this is a good thing. You’re making your own friends.
+
“Oh, he’s so lovely, Pete!” you gushed, your nose wiggling as you spoke.
“Mhm,” Peter watched you with a strange look, mouth full of boba pearls, “you’ve mentioned that.”
You gave him a smile that normally would have made him turn to mush. Only this time, it didn’t. Had you smiled at Harry like that?
“I’m excited!” you waved your hands in the air, “I’m making my own friends, Pete. I’m an independent woman now.”
He rolled his eyes as he took another sip of his tea, “good. Good for you.” He couldn’t help the bitter feeling that rested in the pit of stomach.
Independent. You had made a single “friend” (Peter didn’t even want to think about that. He knew Harry was just using you, that’s not what friends do. You shouldn’t throw that term around like that. Hewas your friend. Peterwas your friend.) and you already pegged yourself as independent. He could laugh in your face. You were far too pure to face the world without him by your side. Like hell you were independent.
You pouted, your eyes searching for his, “are you angry with me?”
Angry? Why would he be angry? Because you hadn’t shown at your arranged time? Because the reason you were late was because you wanted to squeeze in an extra “study date” with Harry? No, he wasn’t angry. Not at you anyway.
“Of course not, bunny. Could never be.”
It was true, he wasn’t necessarily angry, he was more so slightly bothered by what you had done. That’s how it usually was. You would do something that Peter did not agree with but he would never be angry. Just mildly annoyed. He couldn’t actually be angry with his sweet little bunny. You probably didn’t even know the consequences of your actions. He couldn’t blame you for that.
You smiled, leaning in to give him a hug. Peter was immediately enveloped in warmth, your soft body melding with his. The sweet scent of lavender and honey was all around in. Your hair tickled his neck where you buried your face. You were on your knees on the couch, allowing Peter a view of your backside covered in your lounge wear.
He loved your hugs. They always succeed in lifting his spirits and making him a little dizzy. You were just so warm and soft and perfect for him.
You pulled away, still smiling as you sunk back into your spot on your tiny, tiny couch and pulling your own tea to your lips.
He let himself watch as you wrapped your lovely mouth around the straw. A minuscule puddle of milk tea formed on your bottom lip, and you licked it up as you removed the straw. Your tongue was wet and a delightful shade of pink as you slid it across the expanse of your lip.
He felt a throb in his sweatpants. Shifting, he asked, “so, what else did you do today?”
You hummed, chewing the balls of boba in your mouth, “that’s all. Just hung out with Harry. We have a lot more in common than I thought,” you giggled. “We just don’t run out of things to talk about.”
He inhaled, feeling himself go soft, “that’s a lot of talking in the library.”
“Oh, we didn’t go to the library,” you shook your head.
He gave you a look, “where did you go?”
You looked hesitant, “um, we went to his flat. It was nearby and he had forgotten his books, so it was easier to stay there.”
How convenient.
“Bunny,” Peter started.
You had a guilty look on your face as you stared at him, “I know,” your voice was small, “not safe. I know… but he’s not like the other guys Pete. He wouldn’t hurt me.”
“How can you be so sure, hm? You’re in no way prepared to protect yourself. What if he had done something to you? What would you have done?”
“He wouldn’t…” you looked down, “he wouldn’t do anything.” You bit your lip as you nervously whispered, “I think he likes me.”
Peter could hardly hear you. He was sure he hadn’t heard correctly because of how softly you spoke. “Speak up, bunny. I can’t hear you.”
“I said I think he likes me,” you said a little louder. He could see the embarrassment on your face. Like you couldn’t believe you had said that out loud.
Peter swallowed, “oh.”
There was a pause, “what makes you think that?”
“Well,” your nose fluttered, “he said he’s never met anyone like me. And he,” you glanced up at him before returning your gaze to your lap, “he tried to kiss me.”
Oh.
Peter didn’t know how to react. He stared at your pretty eyes with his brows cinched and an analyzing gaze. The first thought to pop into his was: did you kiss him?Then:did you want to kiss him?
“Oh,” he managed to say, “did you?”
You inhaled, “um, no…” you trailed off, shifting uncomfortably. “I couldn’t.”
Good. He doesn’t deserve to feel your lips. He doesn’t deserve your first kiss.
“I don’t know how,” you looked up at him. Your eyes looked glassy and you had a look of embarrassment on your face.
It should have been obvious. Peter did keep any potential love interest as far from you as you could manage, yet he was still flustered.
He hummed, feeling blood rush to his groin, “you don’t?”
You shook your head, “no… never learned how.”
Your lips looked so pretty as you pouted, shame present on your face. Peter wanted to reach over, pull you in close and kiss you softly. He wanted to run his hands through your hair and up your soft curves. To hear your lovely noises as you gave into him.
He grimaced as the image of Harry’s dirty lips inching closer to yours. Your pure, innocent mouth being tainted by his filthy one. He could have that. What else would he make you do?
He could only imagine your gasp of surprise, your inexperienced movements, your sugary taste. But you were sitting right in front of him, weren’t you? You had enough confidence in him that you would even confess such a thing. He was obligated to help you, wasn’t he? You’re essentially asking for help, right?
“I could,” he paused, unsure, “I could teach you.”
“Really?” You straightened your back a tad, eyes widening at the offer.
You trusted him so much. After all these years that you’d known him, Peter had never once misled you in any way shape or form. He was the person you trusted most because you knew he had your best interest in mind. He was your best friend. He was there to keep you safe.
“Mhm,” he moved a little closer, “if you’d want that, I can.”
You nodded eagerly, “yes, Peter, please.”
Yes, Peter, please…
You sat still as Peter invaded your space.
He licked his lips, you reluctantly placed one hand on your thigh, and the other reaching up to cup your chubby face. The warmth of your being was seeping into him so deep he felt warmer than he ever had.
You looked at him expectantly, your glassy gaze flickering from his golden brown eyes to his lips.
“Are you ready?” He whispered, mouth mere inches from yours.
You inhaled, “yes, Peter. I wanna be good for Harry.”
He ignored the pang in his chest, “well, you have to be good for me first, bunny.”
You nodded, fluttering your eyes shut. He watched you for a second. Your nose wiggled faintly as you breathed and you sat patiently waiting with your pouty lips puckered up slightly.
He was able to see it all this close to you. All of your imperfections that he never had the privilege of noticing before. It only made him long for you more.
Peter ignored the thought in his head that said if he knew you’d give into him so easily under the pretense of teaching you, he would’ve offered his services much earlier.
He leaned in, hovering just before your lips, eyeing how your eyebrows furrowed and your lips extended further. But not single complaint about Peter’s excruciatingly slow pace because he knows best, and he knew you knew that.
He could feel your shaky exhales on his skin as he finally connected your lips. He felt himself twitch, once, twice, at the sheer feeling of your lips pressed against his. It was harder to refrain from going further - maybe a hand up your thigh, up your belly and to your tits, maybe wrap them around your neck…
He felt your face contort as he began to finally move his mouth against yours, your kisses were as sloppy as he’d imagined them to be. And he was correct, your inexperience made him painfully hard. He reluctantly removed his hand from your thigh and placed it on his bulge. He just couldn’t resist. You let out a high shaky breath as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, tasting you.
Peter could taste the remnants of your milk tea on your tongue. You attempted to mirror his movements and he felt another throb at your feeble efforts.
He rubbed his hand onto his hard cock to resist the urge to do something completely inappropriate like take your hand to place it on his thigh to get him even closer to his release. He didn’t believe it would take much at all for him to cum. Your mouth moving against his was more than enough.
You began to get the hang of it and it somehow made Peter’s erection even more painful. His hips involuntarily jerked as you wrapped your arms up around his neck, tugging him close. Your thigh brushed against his cock, he sighed. You gasped, your tongue halting its sloppy movements.
He could feel you pulling back and he chased your lips, pushing into you and not permitting you to disconnect your mouths. You leaned back against the arm of the small couch in your attempt to pull away from your best friend’s lips. Peter followed you, body against yours. His cock sat on your thigh and he hoped you couldn’t feel it twitch.
As his hips made small movements, grinding into your thigh. One of his hands wrapped around the back of your head, keeping you against him, while the other felt up your sides, resting below your tits. You let out a whiny sound as you began to kiss him back again.
Peter’s thrusts became more erratic as he drew closer and closer to the edge. He felt your thigh tense and your hips lifted off the couch, pushing into his lower abdomen. Your arms tightened around his neck.
Your kisses were still messy, you used far too much tongue and had little technique but Peter had never had a better kiss. He came abruptly when you moaned into his mouth again, hand pulling on the hair at the name of his neck. He pulled away from you and groaned, out of breath into your shoulder as he steadied himself.
“Pete,” you breathed, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be so eager.”
Peter was taken aback. He didn’t respond as he regained his composure into your warm shoulder, inhaling your scent. His cock was slowly going soft but the proximity to you made him believe that it would shoot back up with any movement you made.
“I just,” a pause, “I guess I got a little carried away.”
It baffled Peter that you thought any of what happened had been your fault. As if he didn’t invade your space and force your head into place so he could get himself off.
“It’s okay, bunny.”
You buried your head into his shoulder and there was no sign of parting for a while. Peter only pulled away when he felt his hot cum seeping through his pants in a wet puddle. His movements were quick when he grabbed a throw pillow and threw it over his lap.
“You know I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”
+
You had spent an increasing amount of time with Harry over the last few weeks. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you’d thought he’d have grown bored of you by now. But it seemed the opposite. He texted you often, smiled at you in a way that made you feel warm and special, and he seemed genuinely interested and excited to speak to you. You hadn’t felt that way since you met Peter.
Harry had even asked you out on a date. On Saturday evening he promised to pick you up from your apartment and take you somewhere you’d never been. You had little time to think of anything else because of how excited you were. Harry Osborn wanted to go on a date with you.
It had been the only thing on your mind for the last week. Well, that and your mess of a friendship with Peter Parker.
After the kiss shared with Peter, you had spent less time with him. On top of plans with Harry, you felt guilty for how you acted. You felt that you had taken advantage of him and his kindness. You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed and in a way uncomfortable around Peter now. You knew it wasn’t his fault, it was yours. And he deserved better.
You began to ignore his calls and texts and you took different routes to and from your classes. You even stopped replying to Ned and MJ after they began questioning where you’d run off to. In a way that comment made you feel a little ridiculous. It was like they expected Peter to be dragging you around on a leash. Like you were his little pet or something of the like.
That wasn’t Peter’s fault though. You didn’t believe anything was. Peter was a saint in your eyes. Your savior of a life of solace. That’s why you felt the worst you ever had about locking your window.
The first night, you had pretended to be asleep when you heard light taps on the glass. You closed your eyes and ignored the noise, waiting what felt like hours to move again.
Now, almost two weeks later, you had finally been confronted.
Peter looked at you with a look you had never seen and couldn’t decipher. His lips were pulled in a tight line and his forehead and eyebrows were creased, his eyes looked darker and his gaze was hard and they held a different feeling. Even the air around him felt different, it was cold and suffocating.
“You’re avoiding me.”
“Hm? Oh, no, no, Pete m’not-“
“You are.”
You opened your mouth to speak but your words were caught in your throat. You were avoiding him.
“Why? Did I do something to upset you?”
“No,” you took a deep breath, “I’ve just been busy-“
“Busy? With what? Osborn? He keeping you so busy that you can’t even respond to my texts?”
You felt your lip quiver and your eyes welled up with tears at his tone and his unwavering stare. Peter had never reacted this way towards you. You didn’t even know he could speak that way.
You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, so you looked down at your feet and attempted to blink away your tears.
Peter looked down at you, waiting for you to say something, anything. He wanted - no, he expected an apology. He had been restless the past few weeks, waiting for you to respond to him. He had been following you around as New York’s friendly neighbor Spider-Man, so he was well aware of what you were up to. He watched as you found new routes to your home, hid away in obscure places and, of course, he watched your giddy expression as Harry Osborn gripped your hand or your waist and walked around with you on his arm like he owned you.
It didn’t help that Peter had seen you locking your window. Double checking, triple checking that you had locked it and then periodically again throughout the day. At first Peter suspected that you had known he got off on your thigh that day, that you were creeped out or disgusted by him.
“So? What is it? Why have you been avoiding me?”
You sniffled and Peter was surprised by himself when he didn’t soften at the noise. He didn’t feel the usual tighten of his heart nor did his stare on you become less intense. He wanted you to feel like this. It made it feel a sort of power having you vulnerable in front of him, for him.
“Y/N, I’m speaking to you. I expect an answer. Did you lose your ability to speak to me when you started fooling around with Osborn? Neglecting me? Neglecting our friendship? Does it mean so little to you?”
Tears started falling from your eyes at the sound of your name. Peter never called you that. You were his bunny, his best friend. You covered your face with your hands in shame. You weakly shook your head.
“So you can’t speak, hm?”
Peter could think of a few ways to get you to start talking. Many scenarios to get your pretty mouth moving.
Peter had thought a lot about you recently, somehow even more than normal. His thoughts had turned alarmingly crude the more time you spent away from him. What was once an innocent daydream of kissing your lips turned into a filthy, sordid fantasy of flipping your skirt and fucking you over the table in the library where you studied with Harry.
Flashes of your mouth and body were intrusive thoughts and the feeling of them on him lingered. They left him unable to focus on patrolling, ultimately leading to him jacking off on the roof of the building across the street from your apartment. Some days, he was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of your bare legs through cracks in your sheer white curtains.
“M’sorry Peter,” you peered up at him through teary lashes, “didn’t mean to make you sad.”
He clicked his tongue, “well, you did.”
You let out a sob as you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his waist and tucking your face into his chest. His heart rate kept its steady pace and Peter stood still for a few seconds. Would he forgive you, no, could he forgive you so easily?
He focused on your warmth around him and he felt his walls lower. He begrudgingly hugged you back, taking in the feel of your curves under his fingers. He sighed, “it’s okay, bunny. Don’t cry.”
You wanted to cry harder. Normally, Peter would be cradling your face, wiping your tears and pulling you close, enveloping you in his warmth. It was nothing like his tight grip and cold demeanor he currently had. You hadn’t meant to upset him so much but you just felt so guilty for possibly crossing or blurring the lines of your friendship.
Peter knew he would give into you. The way you whimpered and cried into his chest made his heart feel heavy. He began to rub your back and he placed a kiss on your head. Your arms tightened around him.
“C’mon, bunny. It’s okay, we’re okay.”
You whimpered again, doing all you could to collect yourself. Peter held you tightly until you lifted your head.
Your face was red and puffy, wet with your tears and your eyeliner was smudged at the corners of your bloodshot eyes. Your lips were slightly opened as you breathed through your mouth. Your nose was runny and you sniffled, nose wiggling. Peter felt his pants tighten. You looked so wrecked and it was all for him. Because he was upset with you. Hehad that power over you.
“Are you okay?” concern filled his face.
“Mhm,” you said, a shakily smiling. “Missed you.”
He smiled at you and you felt the warmth return, “I missed you more, bun. Should we catch up?”
You nodded frantically, grabbing his hand and pulling him in the direction of your apartment.
+
Things had since gotten much better. You were in Peter’s grasp once more and Harry Osborn had been moved to the backburner.
You sighed as you switched your kettle on for a cup of tea. Peter was busy and you were stuck at home alone again. You were bored beyond belief as your eyes flickered from your TV to the warming kettle. You foot tapped on the ground and you all but ran to your phone when the familiar pingcame from it.
Your eyes widened and excitement erupted in your belly. Harry had sent you a message.
hey stranger… u around?
You contemplated an answer. A part of you felt you shouldn’t respond but another was happy to hear from him.
Maybe
The response was instantaneous.
meet me at the bar
You smiled, rushing to your closet.
After making up with Peter you had begun to neglect your friendship with Harry. You were so focused on keeping Peter happy with you. This had become an increasingly difficult task that required a lot of time and attention.
Peter was easily bothered with you now. His patience would run thin and he would turn cold in the blink of an eye. You had spent nights crying, wishing you hadn’t ruined your most important friendship. But none of that stopped you from trying.
You knew Peter didn’t like Harry, that was obvious. He’d roll his eyes and stare blankly at you with an expression of disappointment you had seen so much of recently whenever you would mention him in conversation. He made sure to remind you that Harry was just like other boys who wanted to take advantage of you and hurt you but he said nothing more.
As you walked into the cafe, Harry waved his arms in the air. You smiled, blush forming as you took a seat across from him. He looked happy to see you, and he told you that.
“I missed you, y’know,” he looked down, a pink hue on his cheeks. “Haven’t seen much of you recently.”
“Me too, um, sorry about that. I’ve been a little, um, busy.”
He looked up with a shy grin, “s’okay, I’m happy you’re here now.” You were slightly taken aback by his shyness.
He paused, licking his lips and taking a deep breath, “so, Y/N, I’ve been thinking…”
Oh no, here it goes. He’s gonna tell you that he can’t see you anymore. That he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore.
“Would you like to go on a date with me?”
Your heart stopped, a date? You had ever been on a date before. “A date?”
He cleared his throat, looking nervous, “uh, yeah. It’s just, I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and I missed you so much the last few weeks. So I thought I’d finally ask.”
You exhaled, trying to process his question. “Yes, I’d love to,” you said, face warm and bashful smile.
+
It was cold outside as you walked back to your apartment. Harry had offered to drive you home but you declined, wanting some time alone to think.
Your mind was racing as you turned into the alleyway before your apartment. You were going on a date with Harry Osborn. What would you wear? What would you talk about? What would you tell Peter?
You sighed, glancing around the dark alley. There was a spider web hanging from a pipe a few steps ahead of you. You began to walk a little faster. If Spider-Man was around there was likely some sort of criminal activity. Hopefully it wasn’t too close to home.
As you rushed into your apartment, you didn’t bother turning on the lights. You shrugged off your jacket and kicked off your shoes, sighing deeply as you plopped down onto your bed.
“Where were you?”
Your eyes darted to the source of the noise. The streetlight peering in through the window illuminated him just a tad, barely enough to see his face. But it didn’t matter, you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.
“Peter? How did you get in here?” You distinctly remember closing the window, locking it and double checking before walking out the door.
“You were out with Harry. I saw you.”
“Oh, um,” you sat up and pulled your dress down, “W-we were just getting a drink.”
He inhaled deeply and hummed, “just getting a drink.” He let out a dark laugh, “sure you were.”
“We,” you paused, “we were. I haven’t seen him in a while.”
Peter scoffed, “and that’s why you agreed to go on a date with him, hm?”
You opened your mouth to speak but he didn’t let you.
“I thought we’d gotten past this, bunny.” Peter tapped his foot. Did you feel like you didn’t need him anymore? After all he’d done for you? All these years by your side and you abandon him for the first man who gives you the time of day.
“Why don’t you listen to me? I only want what’s best for you. For us.”
You stayed quiet, looking down at your frilly, white socks. Peter sighed and you heard him rise from his spot on the couch. He lifted your chin with his cold fingers. His eyes looked dark again and the darkness of your room added to the eerie feel of him. He leaned down, fingers light on your chin as he drew closer to your lips. You turned your face away before he could connect your mouths.
What was he doing?
He scoffed quietly as his hold on your face tightened and forced your face to its previous position. You furrowed your brows as you tried to turn away again.
“Pete, what are you doing?”
“I’m tired of you treating me this way. I deserve better after all i’ve done for you. All these years I have been there for you. I made sure you were okay and I loved you through it all.”
He loved you? You didn’t like the sound of that. Peter was your best friend and nothing more and you dreaded the possibility that he could think of you as something more than that.
“I know that,” you whispered, “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
A tiny smile graced his lips.
You returned it, “and I love you too Peter, you’re my best friend.”
His grip on your chin turned painful.
Best friend.
He laughed darkly as he shook his head slightly, “best friend.” He smiled.
Feeling uneasy you smiled softly at him, forcing out a giggle.
His smile fell, “bunny, I love you. I want to be with you. I want you to be mine.”
You gulped, “um,” you looked down, “Peter, I don’t, I don’t feel that way about you.”
“Why? Because of Harry? Because you have ‘choices’ now, hm? I’m not good enough for you?”
You stayed quiet, trying to steady your breathing to keep yourself from crying as Peter used his free hand to move up your arm to your shoulder, holding it forcefully.
You didn’t even know Peter was remotely interested in you. The entire confession made you feel sick to your stomach. While you hadn’t known, the revelation didn’t change the fact that, to you, he was just a friend. This had nothing to do with Harry and his romantic interest in you.
“No, Peter, I just, I’m sorry. I don’t like you like that,” you looked down and spoke so softly you doubted he could hear you.
He scoffed, letting go of your chin and shoulder with a push. You steadied yourself, looking up to see him pacing around the room. You wanted to ask him to leave, but before you could he turned to you again.
“He could never treat you like I do.”
“Peter…”
“No! He couldn’t. I know deep down you know that. He wouldn’t know what to do with a pretty girl like you.”
You shifted uncomfortably.
Peter watched as you fiddled with the hem of your dress. It was the purple one again, his favorite. Harry would never be able to satisfy you the way he would. He just needs to find a way to let you know that. No, he has shown you. Everything he had done since you met should have shown you. You were just… ungrateful. He needed to let you know that you couldn’t get away from him. There was no one else that could love you like he could.
Your heartbeat sped up as Peter took long strides towards you.
“He doesn’t deserve you like I do,” he shoved his knee between your own and forced them open just enough to fit his leg between them. “And I’m gonna show you, that only I know how to treat you. I know what you deserve and I can give it to you.”
You were confused and scared, you watched him cautiously as he stood before you.
His hand reached for your hair, he touched it lightly. You let out a shaky breath. You didn’t know what he was about to do. You weren’t sure what he was capable of anymore.
His fingers caressed your face, giving your chubby cheeks a light squeeze as he moved his hand down to your neck. You let out a shaky breath as his hands ghosted over your throat.
“Peter,” you whispered, “what are you doing?”
He smiled, “I’m gonna make you mine, bunny.”
You felt your lip quiver and you hesitantly pushed his chest, trying to get him away from you. “No, Peter. I don’t want this.”
His hands tightened around your neck, “you don’t know what you want. You’re just a dumb bunny. You don’t know what is good for you. I do.”
Tears welled in your eyes as he leaned down to leave wet kisses on your cheeks and jaw, his hands on your throat.
You moved your face away, side to side, avoiding his lips. His grip cut off your airways as he gave you a shake, “stop.” He pushed you onto your back, attacking you with kisses.
Tears fell from your eyes as you tried to push him back. You should’ve been able to, even if it was just a little. But he didn’t budge. Your legs kicked his own trying to get him off. He acted like you hadn’t touched him at all. You bit down on his tongue as it forced its way into your mouth, he pulled back in surprise. You took the opportunity to wiggle out from under him, moving as fast as you could towards the door.
Peter’s temper was running thin. With quick movements he activated the web shooter tucked under the sleeve of his plaid shirt.
You barely made it a few steps when you were pulled back. Your eyes went to Peter who was seated on your bed, cold look on his face. The sight of your hand stuck to the table left you in shock. The sticky substance was too strong for you to pull back. You began to sob as you connected the dots.
Peter was Spider-Man.
You didn’t know how you hadn’t figured it out before. You should’ve known. The random bruises on his body, the overnight strength and agility, the disappearances, the way he always knew where you were and what you were doing… it should’ve been obvious.
“Peter, please, let me go,” you cried, using all the strength you could muster to attempt to free your hand.
He stood from the bed and took slow steps to where you stood. “You’re my little bunny, and you’re not going anywhere until you realize that.”
As he worked to free your hand you took the other and impulsively delivered a harsh slap to his cheek. Peter didn’t react right away. He kept his eyes on your hand for a few seconds before glancing up.
“Ungrateful little bitch.”
You inhaled, trying to stare at him with the same venom that he did you. He continued to free your hand, sliding the little knife across your thumb, slicing it. You hissed in pain.
You were so confused, this man was nothing like the Peter Parker you knew and loved. This man was pure evil and you wanted to get as far away from him as you possibly could.
Peter stared at you in disbelief. Could you not see that he was only trying to give you the best? He had to make you see it even if it meant by force. He looked into your eyes filled with fear, tearing threatening to fall and your lip quivering. He wanted you so bad and he was finally going to have you.
Peter looked down, watching the slow drops build on your finger tip before falling onto the counter. Your hand was barely trembling and he softened immediately. He hadn’t meant to cut you so deep.
“I’m sorry, bunny. Are you okay?”
His change in demeanor puzzled you, he had went from evil to the gentle Peter you knew and loved.
You nodded stupidly, “mhm, hurts just a little, Peter.”
“Aw, bunny,” he said softly, taking your sticky hand and bringing it to his lips.
His tender touch had you in his grasp again, like he hadn’t just assaulted you, screamed at you, cutyou.
He placed a soft kiss to your bleeding finger, eyes looking lovingly into yours. You fed into it, like you always did. A drop of your blood rested on his bottom lip, and you watched as he licked it up with a swipe of his tongue.
He closed his eyes, relishing in the taste of you on his tongue. His cock twitched and he ached to taste your pretty cunt in his tongue. He wasted no time.
Before you knew it, he was throwing you to the bed with ease, flipping your skirt up. He inhaled deeply, feeling his pants tighten further by the sight of your panties. They were just as cute as you. Just what he imagined you’d wear, yet somehow it was better. Your panties were a pale pink color, little hearts a darker shade of pink littering the fabric. He couldn’t help but stare, taking in the view of your pretty panties covering your perfect, plump ass.
Cries escaped you, pleas for him to just stop. He ignored them, instead giving your right ass cheek a little slap. He moaned at the cry you made, the way your flesh rippled at the impact.
You had been fooled once again. The Peter Parker you once knew was long gone.
Peter looped his fingers under the delicate fabric, your skin warm, he pulled up roughly. You yelped, arching your back to relieve the pain, but it only gave Peter a better look at your puffy pussy, bulging against the fabric he had pulled.
“Oh,” he cooed, leaning down and placing a kiss to your ass.
Tears pricked at your eyes again, threatening to fall as you tried to rack your brain for ideas on how to get yourself out of the current situation. You gasped at the abrupt feeling of cold air on your cunt. The tears began to fall.
Unable to control himself, Peter placed a sloppy wet kiss to your cunt. You gasped loudly, trying to move your ass away. He held your hips tightly in place, pressing pecks along the entirety of your backside. A strangled moan fell from your lips as he kissed your clit.
Peter stared at your pussy, admiring the wet string of slick that drilled from your little hole. He felt a sense of accomplishment at the drip of slick, he was making you feel good even when you resisted. Extending his tongue from his mouth, he licked up your slit, flicking his tongue as he did so. He moaned at the taste of your sweet juices.
He finally let himself loose, allowing himself to bury his head into your puffy cunt. His hands groped your thighs, kneading them, keeping them apart so he had good access to your cunt.
You tried to hold in your body’s reactions. You held your breath, curled your toes and turned your hands to fists. But you couldn’t stop a loud mewl as Peter swirled his tongue around your sensitive bud. You bit your lip as you contained sobs.
Your fingers grabbed onto your sheets, squeezing them tightly as you felt yourself becoming more aroused. The lewd sounds from Peter combined with the wet sounds of your pussy. Peter was basically drooling, strings of spit and slick keeping him attached to you even when he pulled back for air. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of you.
You felt a coil form in your tummy, tightening with every passing second.
“Are you gonna cum for me, bunny?” Peter asked, his voice deep.
Your body was trembling and your hips unconsciously pressed into his face. You shook your head, closing your eyes tightly as your mouth opened involuntarily, loud cry slipping out as the coil snapped. You shook, your knees going weak as your body was overtaken by the pleasant, but unfamiliar sensation.
Peter groaned into your sopping cunt as he licked up your release. His cock was so hard it was painful, his mindless humping on your sheets wasn’t nearly enough. He held you up when your body gave in, on the verge of going limp as he continued his movements on your pussy long after you had become sensitive.
“Peter, please stop, hurts,” you managed to blubber out.
He pulled away, a string of spit connecting you. He watched as it snapped, falling onto his plaid shirt. He licked his lips, sliding his arms out from under your thighs. Your lower half hit your bed and you were unable to move. Your pussy throbbed from overstimulation as you laid dumbly. Weak little moans falling from your mouth.
Peter reached a hand up to wipe at his face, collected the excess juices and inserted his fingers into his mouth to consume it. He savored the taste, watching as your body jolted from the aftershocks of your orgasm. The skirt of your dress was scrunched around your waist and your ass was glistening under the streetlights from where he had drooled over it. Your thighs were in the same position they were in when he dropped them. He felt himself twitch, you were too weak to move them.
Harry couldn’t have made you cum like that. He probably would even eat you out. What a waste of a sweet cunt that would be. He could live off your pussy alone he was sure of it.
Peter rested a hand on your lower back as he stood from the bed. You glanced over at him, relieved that he was going to leave you alone. Your tears had stopped and you felt them drying on your cheeks.
When Peter pulled off his plaid shirt and the gray t-shirt under it, you wanted to scream. You wanted to get up and push him out of your apartment. He had just forcefully inflicted oral sex onto you and were terrified of where he wanted to go next.
You couldn’t help your stare on Peter’s toned body. His defined abdomen and strong arms were illuminated perfectly under the soft light. You wanted to slap yourself as you felt yourself become slightly aroused.
You managed to sit up, slowly and gently seating yourself down. You instinctively reached for your stuffed bunny. You held it to your chest as you watched Peter fiddle with his belt. “Peter,” you called quietly.
Your hair was a mess and you had faint black tracks going down your chubby face. Your lipstick was smudged. Your thick, soft arms were clinging to your bunny. The bunny he had gifted you years ago. Your dress was askew and barely covered your thighs.
“Yes, bunny?” he pulled off his belt.
“Please stop now. I’m sorry I upset you.”
He sighed and simply shook his head. “I helped you, now you need to help me.”
Helped you? You didn’t ask for his help.
“But-”
“Look at what you did, bun,” he pulled off his underwear as he tugged off his pants. His cock sprung free and slapped his stomach. It was big and long and thick, protruding veins ran up its length, leading to an angry red tip. You felt your lip wobble, you weren’t even sure if it would fit. “It hurts and only you can make it feel better. You caused this. It’s your fault that this is happening.”
You weren’t sure what to think. Was this your fault?
“Lay back for me, bunny.” he motioned to the bed. “I need gonna fuck your pretty pussy.”
You shook your head.
Peter rolled his eyes, “do what your told, stupid bunny. Don’t act like you don’t like it. Couldn’t you feel how wet you were for me?”
You stayed in place. He clenched his jaw and grabbed your ankles, pulling you until your back hit the cushion of your mattress. You tried to kick the hold of his wrists from your feet.
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he felt up your thigh, eyeing you in a way that made you feel self conscious. You felt like prey.
“I always like this dress,” he said, tugging it up your body. Peter pulled your bunny from your arms to pull the material over your head. “It’s my favorite one. Looks so beautiful on you.”
You reached for the bunny to cover yourself but were unable to reach it. You wrapped your arms around your tummy. Peter clicked his tongue, “no.” He leaned down to press kisses over your middle and he pried your hands away for better access. You felt tears brimming.
He pulled your bra off with ease, absentmindedly as he ran his mouth over your skin. You gasped and turned away, refusing to watch. You felt his tongue find your nipple and you hated the way it aroused you. He groaned and you felt his cock against your thighs. He kneaded your breasts as he kissed up your neck. He looked you in the eye as his cock found your cock, running up and down the slit.
“It’s gonna feel so good, bunny. You’re gonna crave my cock after. You’re gonna realize that no one is better for you than me. Fuck, you’re so warm and soft.”
His cock twitched on your pussy, causing you to inhale shakily.
Peter was so ready to be inside you. The warmth your cunt radiated made his cock ache so bad. He pushed his cock through your fold, watching as your face contorted. Your hole was pulling him in as soon as his cock head reached your entrance. It was like you were made to take him.
Your face had a pained expression painted over it and your hole contracted.
“Relax, bunny. Or it’s gonna hurt a lot more than it needs to. You were doing so well just now.”
He was too big, the further he sank into you, the more it hurt.
He couldn’t resist the involuntary thrust of his hips. You jolted up at the strength of them. As he pulled out he looked down. The sight of your loose tits, belly rolls, and puffy pussy around his cock made him feral. The red coat of blood on his pelvis made him feel a sense of accomplishment. He had you first.
He finally had you. All of you. And he deserved it all after everything he’d done.
Peter forced his way in until he bottomed out. Relishing in the way your tight pussy squeezed him. He knew it hurt from the way you had begun to cry and the way your body shook but he didn’t care. You’d adjust. Soon you’d be a stupid cockwhore. What he always wanted you to be. All for him.
“Ow,” you cried, reaching your hand up his back, seeking comfort.
“You feel so good,” he moaned.
Peter began a slow pace, pulling out just a little before sliding back in. your nails dug into his back as your head moved side to side, whines and cries leaving your lips. More and more slick came from your hole as he continued his abuse.
Soon enough his thrusts had gotten faster, harder and your thoughts were few and far between.
Fuck.
I don’t want this.
Feels so good.
Peter’s hands were all over you. Running up your sides, squeezing your soft skin, playing with your clit, and caressing your face as tears fell from your eyes.
You weren’t sure when you had begun to cry or whether it was due to pain or pleasure.
Peter moved his lips to rest on yours, kissing you in sync with his thrusts. You whined, moving your face from away, “no, stop.”
His hand that rested on your bouncing tits delivered a quick, harsh slap to your cheek. You cried out, tears falling faster. Peter pinched your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. You opened your eyes, watching as he spit into your mouth, a string of spit lingering. You clenched around him.
Peter chuckled, “you liked that. Dirty slut.”
You had stopped fighting him, too caught up in the feeling of his cock in your cunt. Peter knew you would. He knew you loved him, too.
He fit so perfectly inside you, like you were meant for him.
A string of “Hm, uh, uh's” and breathy high pitched noises fell from your lips with every thrust Peter made. The noises harmonized with the squelching sounds of your wet pussy. It was music to Peter’s ears. The prettiest noises he had ever heard.
Soon, you felt a coil in your belly. It snapped a part of you back into reality, while the other was dumb on the feel of Peters cock.
“Peter, hm, Peter, uh stop, m’gonna-”
Peter shushed you, sloppily kissing your neck, “cum for me.”
You were lightheaded, the feeling was too good. Peter suckled at your soft spot and you felt yourself cum with a high whine. Your orgasm was more intense this time. Your mind was blank as tears poured from your eyes and your body tensed. Your back arched off the mattress and you scratched down Peter’s back, holding him close.
Peter felt dizzy, you were everywhere. He could feel you everywhere and he had never felt such ecstasy. He twitched inside you as your cunt clenched around his cock deliciously.
You weren’t able to contain your moans as you cried harder, salty tears saturating the sheets beneath your head as he fucked you past your orgasm.
“I’m gonna cum inside you,” he said, voice deep with desire. The way your pussy fluttered around him became too much.
“N-no,” you shaky moved your hands down to his pelvis, pushing with all the strength your weak body could muster. “P-peter, don’t want,” black mascara-stained tears streamed down your face, your lipstick smudged up to your nose, you looked absolutely wrecked.
“I didn’t fucking ask,” his voice was near a growl, “m’gonna cum in this pretty, puffy pussy. Listen to it scream for me, pulling me back in, fluttering around me. You want this.”
You shook your head, pushing once again, you let out a choked sob as he thrusted particularly hard, “N-no.”
Peter moaned loudly, squeezing your plump waist as he stilled.
You could feel his hot, hot cum painting your walls. You felt a weight on your heart, he had coaxed multiple orgasms from you, stolen them and your innocence along with them. And now, he was inside of you. His cum had likely forced its way into your cervix, mingling with your most intimate of places.
A small part of you liked it. You tried your hardest to ignore that part of you that enjoyed being full. So full of Peter. He was the best for you, after all.
Peter thrusted a few more times, dreading the thought of leaving your tight, warm hole.
You were everything he had ever imagined. You plump body, your sugary sweet taste, your beautiful noises…
He would never let you go.
Peter gave your limp body a final kiss. You were too fucked out to react. As he pulled out of you he stared at your puffy cunt. It was wet with slick and sweat. Cum slid out of the abused hole. He took his finger and pushed it back in, loving the way you jolted and tried to close your legs.
Peter Parker loved to look at you. Even more so now, with you bare in front of him. Your skin glistening under the rays of the artificial streetlights outside your window and remnants of your innocence on his cock.
Relationship: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader Drabble Summary: Peter arrives at your window drunk Word Count: 491 A/N: my fixation on TASM!Peter continues and, as always, he is of college-age in this fic just for clarity. i hope you enjoy this sweet little piece i threw together the idea came to me randomly while i was in the car lmao
You were lounging on your bed, reading a book, when a soft knocking at your window caught your attention. You shut your book and glanced at your window, unsure.
This wasn’t exactly a new occurrence for you. Your boyfriend being, well, Spider-Man, meant he’d come knocking every now and then. But something about these knocks was just…off. They were gentle, slow, yet still erratic. Peter’s knocks were usually stronger, maybe sometimes even panic-y.
You closed your book, wielding it like a weapon, as you slowly got out of bed. You couldn’t imagine who would show up at your apartment window with the goal of robbing the place or hurting you, but still. The alarms in your head were going two-forty.
Tip-toeing across your room, you peeked around the window frame to find…Peter. You lowered your book as you stared at your boyfriend, confused. He was watching you on the other side with a glossy, dazed look in his eyes. His hair was a mess and he was wearing street clothes, no suit. He lifted a hand and waved eagerly.
“Peter?” You said as you finally opened the window. “Wh-What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You did another glance over him but you couldn’t make out scratches or anything. Yet something still seemed off about him.
“H-Hi, babe,” he replied, a little hiccup in his words. “Missed you…” His words trailed off as a silly grin spread on his lips.
Your confusion slowly dissipated as you realized what was going on. “Are you drunk?”
“Me? Drunk?” Peter laughed and shook his head dramatically. “I—What? I could never. I’m a superhero, babe, we do not—.” He hiccuped again, making him lose his train of thought.
“Peter, I’ve seen you drunk before. I know what it looks like.”
Peter giggled. Like an actual giggle. “You’re so smart, babe.”
You playfully rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand, pulling him into the apartment. You forced him to sit down on your bed while you went to get some water for him.
“I can’t believe you got drunk and scaled the side of my building,” you said as you came back with water in hand. Peter had made himself very comfortable on your bed, lounging against your pillow.
“I missed you,” he mumbled as he sipped the water.
You sat down beside him. “You see me almost every day, silly.”
He sighed, his head lolling towards you. “Yes, but I missed you tonight. I missed my gorgeous, funny, smart, lovely, pretty, delicious—,”
“Delicious?”
“—delicious girlfriend,” Peter said as he cuddled up next to you. “Excuse me, for wanting to see her.”
You chuckled and kissed the top of his head. “You know, you could’ve just used the front door to see me.”
“That’s not romantic,” he replied, another hiccup slipping out.
“And this is?”
One of his arms snaked across your waist. “Yes,” Peter said. “Yes, it is.”
Relationship: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader Warnings: Mentions of sex, suggestive language, crappy title (i’m sorry) Summary: You find the hickeys Peter left on you last night A/N: This is a short, cute thing that came to me in my sleep last night lmao I’m sorry I’m on a bit of a TASM!Peter kick lately. Peter is college-age in this which is very obvious but im still mentioning it here lmao please enjoy :)
Usually, it was your alarm clock waking you up for your 8 A.M. lecture. But today, it was your annoying yet adorable boyfriend attacking your neck that roused you from your sleep.
You giggled, playfully trying to push him off. Of course, he didn’t budge. “Peter, seriously?”
Peter had surprised you last night by showing up at your dorm. His Friday lecture had been canceled and he thought that’d give him the perfect chance to come to visit you. You two had spent a lovely first night together but unlike him, you did have a Friday lecture to get to.
“Mmm, sorry,” he muttered into your neck as his hands ran up and down your sides. “Can’t seem to get enough of you. I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too, honey, but you can have more of me after class,” you replied as your alarm clock went off on your bedside table. Going to a different college than your boyfriend was tough but you know what else was tough? Passing your classes.
“Skip it,” Peter replied.
You gasped at his suggestion. “Is the genius Peter Parker telling me to skip class?”
“He is,” Peter said and lifted his head from your neck. He looked at you with tempting, pleading eyes. “And I think you should listen to him. He is a genius after all.”
You laughed and shook your head, taking the chance to slip out from Peter’s grip. He whined at the loss of contact. You ignored his silly antics as you rifled through your closet, hunting for an outfit.
“I’ll be gone for an hour at most,” you said as you pulled on the comfiest outfit you could find — because, come on, Friday class — and headed over to your mirror to start on your make-up. “You can lounge around here or…”
Your words died out as you took in your rough appearance. It took all your strength not to scream as you whipped your head to your boyfriend who was completely oblivious to what you had just found. He was laying on the dorm bed, flipping through one of your textbooks.
“Or what, babe?” Peter asked, still unaware of the anger that was beginning to boil in you.
You promptly ignored his question and asked, “Peter, what the hell is this?”
“One of your textbooks,” he replied. “You know, this all seems a little—,”
“No, Peter, I’m not talking about the damn textbook,” you said, your voice just nearly at a scream. Your tone made Peter finally look up at you. “I’m talking about the fact it looks I took a million paintballs to the neck.” You motioned dramatically towards the string of hickeys that painted your skin, ready to burst. It wasn’t unusual for either of you to leave marks on one another but you tried to refrain from it when one of you had something to do the next morning. Something like — going to class.
Peter, however, wasn’t phased at all. A cocky, cheesy grin slowly broke out on his lips as he took in the marks he had shamelessly made on you last night. There wasn’t even an ounce of remorse in his eyes.
“I didn’t hear you complaining last night,” he said with a laugh. “You were screaming but it wasn’t from anger.”
You felt your skin get warm as the memories of your late-night activities flooded your brain — No, you couldn’t get distracted by that. You pushed back the thoughts.
“I have class to go to, Peter,” you whined as you began fumbling for your foundation. You didn’t actually normally wear heavy make-up, your foundation only being used in desperate times. Like now. “I barely have time for this.”
Peter sat up on the bed. “Then leave them,” he said with a shrug. That ridiculous smirk was still plastered on his face.
You shot him a look in the mirror. “I can’t go to class with all…this on my neck. What on earth would my classmates think?”
Peter barked out a laugh. “Maybe that you have a partner who knows how to please you?”
“Peter, that’s…” You shook your head but didn’t know where to go with your words. You eyed your foundation, trying to ignore the little stirring that began in your stomach at his words. Well, when you put it that way…
When you turned your attention back to the mirror, Peter was suddenly behind you. You nearly jumped, having not heard him approach. He was sporting only a pair of grey sweatpants that were hanging tempting low.
“That’s what?” He asked as his hands snaked around your waist and his head fell to your shoulder. Your gaze met his in the mirror. “That’s a good idea? That’s a great idea? I am a genius, according to you.”
Gosh, he was never going to let that go. “It’s just… It’s not very professional, is it?”
“If you’re so worried about it,” he muttered into your neck, “why don’t you skip class today and come back to bed? We’ll let those marks heal, hmm?”
You squirmed beneath his touch, a light, breathy laugh leaving your lips. “Are you really going to let them heal? Or are you just going to add more to the collection?”
“Hmm,” he sighed, “haven’t decided yet. Why not come back to bed and find out?”
“You’re ridiculous, Peter,” you said as he began pulling you away from the mirror and towards your dorm room bed. It was the complete opposite of what you should be doing, but you didn’t have the strength to fight it.
“But you love me,” Peter replied.
“Yeah,” you muttered, “I guess so.”
The next thing you knew, you were being pulled down into the sheets once again.
Peter’s exhausted sigh was the first thing out of his mouth as he dropped the keys in the bowl by the front door. He kicked his shoes off, exhausted hands running through sandy hair.
“Long day?” You stood from the couch, abandoning your novel on top of the blanket thrown over the cushions.
Peter nodded, walking across the foyer to embrace you, needing to feel the security of his lover in his arms. The day had been full of panic and danger, and he needed to feel that you were safe. His face buried in your hair, nosing at your forehead and leaving little kisses along your hairline as he absorbed the comfort you offered.
“Did something happen?”
“No, just tired,” he hummed in the soft voice you loved.
“I need a shower,” you apologized, slipping from the young hero’s arms. As much as you wanted to stay in his embrace in the foyer, you were tired and needed to get ready for bed.
“I’ll join you.”
Peter followed you to the bathroom, watching as you slipped out of your jeans, waiting for the water to heat up. He got in first, his body relaxing as your hands slid over his bare chest, feeling the toned muscles beneath your fingertips. Your chest pressed against his back, water running over your skin as your cheek rested between his shoulders.
“Miss me today?” He laughed softly, reaching behind him and squeezing your hip.
“You’ve been gone since five, left me all alone, and I was so needy all day,” your confession tumbled from your lips, a suggestion to touch you that you prayed he took.
“Is that right?” he turned, backing you against the cold wall of tile, watching goosebumps erupt across your skin.
You nodded shyly, leaning into his hand as Peter’s thumb stroked your cheek.
“I think you need to earn it. I’ve been working hard all day, and like you said, you’ve been lying around like a princess. I wouldn’t want you to end up spoiled,” he teased with a grin, watching your teeth gently sink into your bottom lip.
You lowered down to your knees, fingernails scratching lightly at his thighs. Long fingers threaded into your hair, guiding your gorgeous mouth up to his dick.
“Going to suck me off, love?”
“Please,” you begged for it, eyes shining, your cunt soaking from the sight of his body dripping with water.
He slowly filled your mouth, pushing deep enough to have your eyes watering, his hand leading your head to bob gently on him. You hollowed your cheeks, one hand stroking what wouldn’t fit in your mouth.
“You’re fucking divine, look so pretty like this,” Peter hissed, his cock twitching in your mouth.
He pulled your hair just hard enough to ache, the porcelain shower floor bruising your knees. The pain had warmth swirling through the base of your belly, tightening the knot between your hips.
“Fuck, I’m going-” Peter stuttered, jacking his hips roughly before coming down your throat, falling apart so fast he wasn’t able to give you any warning.
You swallowed as best you could, leaning back on your heels as you caught your breath. His chest heaved, his thumb wiping away the extra that seeped from your lips, his load bigger than you were capable of swallowing.
“Did my best,” you murmured, and he grinned, helping you to your feet.
“You did perfectly.”
He pulled you into a kiss, his tongue slotting against yours, breaching the seal your lips. Peter’s hands found every dip and curve of your body, savoring your form as he kissed you into heaven, silently loving you as the shower washed everything away.
“I want to make you scream,” he whispered against your lips, turning you over so you faced away from him.
Peter pulled you backwards, impaling you onto his cock, swiftly splitting you open without resistance. Your fingers splayed across the tile, a loud cry escaping at the friction as he fucked you open.
“You were so ready for me, hm?” he teased lightly, giving a few thrusts to watch your thighs tense, his hands squeezing your waist.
Your palms flattened against the tile wall in front of you, bracing yourself as he fucked you deep and slow. Within seconds you were begging for him, begging for more, burning from the inside out with need.
“Please,” you pleaded, gasping as his hand slid up the valley between your breasts to wrap around your throat.
“So needy today, though, I know you’ve earned it,” his teasing was gentle, lips curving into a smile against your shoulder.
Peter pulled the detachable shower head from its place on the wall, bringing it between your thighs. The stream of water focused directly on your clit, the sensation nearly as powerful as that of the expensive toys hidden in your dresser drawer.
Your knees were weak, your body sinking back against Peter’s, your cry getting lost under the sound of running water. Your fingers pulled at his that were around your throat, an orgasm exploding through you as he fucked you hard and tortured your nerves.
“Peter-” your voice was weak as your muscles finally gave out, your legs completely buckling under you.
“Woah,” he laughed gently, shutting off the water and balancing your weight.
“We’ve been together so long, and I’m still able to bring you to your knees,” Peter teased, wrapping you up in a towel once you were sat carefully on the counter.
“You’re not so funny,” you giggled tiredly, letting him help you dry off.
He kissed your cheek, pulling your hair on top of your head for you, smiling as you tilted your chin up to meet his lips. His hands slipped beneath your thighs, carrying you to the warm bed that had been waiting all day.
