#tasm!peter parker drabble | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonstruckme · 1 day

Note

I went out with my friends yesterday cuz one of them threw a party and it was so much fun but omfg I'm so violently hung over can I pls get a fic with any of the boys and a hungover reader them just cuddling her but also being like I told u not to have that last drink....3 drinks ago

Thanks for requesting!

cw: mention of alcohol, hangover

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 443 words

Peter wants so badly to be noisy and obnoxious, but he’s quiet because he loves you.

“Hey, bub,” he says near a whisper, crawling up beside you on the bed. “I think it’s probably time to wake up, don’t you?”

Despite his best efforts with the blinds, insistent threads of golden afternoon light sneak in through the cracks, and you turn your face into the pillow as you moan.

“Aw, I know.” Peter’s unable to keep the laughter out of his voice, pulling down the covers to rub between your shoulder blades. “My poor girl. Who did this to you, huh?”

Your reply is muffled by both pillow and lethargy. “Shuddup.”

His laugh comes out for real now. You squirm away from the sound, trying fruitlessly to burrow deeper into your pillow as Peter drops a kiss on your shoulder, bare where his t-shirt has slipped off.

“I’ve got lukewarm water and painkillers,” he says enticingly. “Breakfast of champions.”

Your hand emerges from beneath the covers, reaching for them.

“Uh, no.” Peter poorly contains another chuckle as he leans away from your searching hand. “You’ve got to sit up to have it, sorry.”

It takes time and effort, Peter helping you with a hand on your back, and when your eyes meet his amusement makes some room for pity.

“Here you go, baby.” He holds out the water and pills. You rub your eyes before taking them, little flakes of crusted-on makeup falling onto the sheets. “Drink it all,” he says when you stop after the sip it takes to down the painkillers. “You’re dehydrated, that’s why your head hurts.”

Your mouth puckers distastefully. “I’ll throw up,” you worry.

“Small sips,” Peter agrees, kissing your shoulder rewardingly when you take another. You’re looking at him now, too, eyes watchful and expression stiff with some kind of indecision. “What is it?”

You hesitate a second longer before asking, “Can we hug?”

“Aw-w-w.” It stutters out of him on a laugh, and your face goes pouty as Peter slides his hands around your middle, hugging you sideways and resting his head atop yours. “Course we can, baby. You’re really feeling shitty, huh?”

You make a pitiful sound, leaning into his touch.

“Wishing you’d stopped after that fourth drink like I told you to?”

Now your whine has more bite to it. Peter holds you tighter so you won’t leave, smiling as he kisses your hair.

“That’s okay, my silly girl. Lucky you’ve got the world’s most forgiving boyfriend to take care of you, huh?”

“It’d be nice,” you mutter, “if he were the world’s least gloat-y boyfriend too.”

“Well, we can’t have it all, sweetheart.”

192 notes · View notes

bruisedboys · 4 months

Note

❛you got me flowers?❜ + ❛aw, did you miss me?❜ with tasm!peter maybe?

thank you for the request blair!!!!! xx

tasm!peter parker x gn!reader

Peter’s never really been very nimble. Even after becoming SpiderMan, he’s still a little bit of a clutz. He’s lanky and much taller than he thinks he is, so he’s always under-compensating for his size and walking into things.

He makes it through your bedroom window without incident, but then he trips over a book on the floor and can’t catch himself because his hands are full. He goes thudding into the carpet. There’s a pause, and then he hears the shower shut off.

“Hello?” Your voice echoes from the bathroom, much too frightened for Peter’s liking. Whoops.

“It’s me!” He calls out, scrambling to his feet and ditching his effort to surprise you. “It’s Peter, honey, I’m sorry.”

Another pause. Then, “Oh, okay. Just give me a minute!”

Peter’s happy to wait, though he’d go barging into the bathroom if it was up to him. He sits on the end of your bed and brings the bouquet of flowers he’s holding to his lap. It’s a little wilted from his fall, a few petals on the outermost layer crushed. He doesn’t have time to fix them before he hears the bathroom door open and your footsteps down the hall.

“Are you trying to rob me?” You’re saying, amusement clear in your soft voice. “You aren’t very stealthy, Peter.”

You appear in the doorway with a huge smile, a towel wrapped around your otherwise bare body and your skin all dewy and fresh. Peter feels instantly like you’ve put him under a spell.

“I wasn’t trying to rob you,” he argues. His head is swimming. Worse when you cross the room to stand in front of his knees with a sugar sweet smile. He looks up at you, starstruck. “I was trying to surprise you. There’s a difference.”

You raise your eyebrows. Peter’s eyes catch on your bare collarbones. They skip over the dip of your throat, your sternum, the sparkling diamonds of water that cling to your skin.

“Is there?” You ask, amused.

“Uh. Yeah,” Peter says dizzily. He’s completely forgotten what he was just talking about two seconds ago. You smell exquisite. Your skin is smooth and shiny with moisturiser. He might die and you’ll be the culprit. He blinks once, twice, thrice, but his head doesn’t show any signs of clearing.

You giggle at his inadequacy, a sweet, airy sound that has Peter’s heart doing somersaults.

“Aw, Pete,” you say, faking sympathy. You take his face in a soft hand, fingers pushing to the space beneath his ear. “Did you miss me?”

Peter blinks hard. Your fingers set his skin on fire. “What makes you think that?” He asks, aiming for accusatory but landing on clumsy and starstruck.

You burst into laughter. Peter knows very well that you’re laughing at him. He finds he doesn’t care, not when you lean over him and press a kiss to his forehead.

“You’re cute,” you tell him fondly.

Peter blushes all the way up to his ears. Thankfully, you’ve become distracted by the bouquet of flowers in his hands and you don’t notice his very intense blush. He wouldn’t mind if you did, actually. You might call him cute again.

“Oh!” You gasp softly, and lift your eyes to Peter’s. “You got me flowers?”

Peter nods. “Yeah,” he says. Finally, he’s managed to say something without embarrassing himself. “Do you like ‘em?”

You nod vehemently. “They’re lovely, Peter. Let me get dressed, okay? And then we can put them in some water together.”

You touch his cheek and then move away, leaving him in a dizzying cloud of sweetness. He can still smell your moisturiser, still feel the heat of your hand where you’d touched his face.

“Cool,” Peter says, his voice two notches too high. Not his smoothest moment.

568 notes · View notes

thelemontree · 2 years

Text

Picnic

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x f!Reader

Summary: Your fourth date with Peter takes an unexpected but welcome turn.

Word Count: 466

Rating: Mature (18+ only, MDNI)

Content: cute date fluff, suggestive dialogue/interactions, allusions to public sex, no use of Y/N

A/N: Just a sweet & spicy lil drabble bc I felt like it 😌 working on some others to hopefully post throughout the week, but don't hold me to that lol. Prompt taken from this list.

Masterlist

It’s been about a month since your first date with Peter Parker. Things have been going really well with him. He’s thoughtful, funny, and a total gentleman—everything your previous boyfriends hadn’t been. It’s a bonus that he’s also the most attractive man you’ve ever met. You’re totally smitten with him, and every time you two go out together, he makes it clear that’s totally smitten with you, too.

You’re currently on your fourth date, a little picnic in the park near your apartment. You’ve just finished up the lunch Peter had packed, and now you two are laying side-by-side on the picnic blanket, chatting idly as you cloud gaze.

Peter turns his head to look at you as you’re animatedly describing the shape of a passing cloud. He smiles softly at you when you meet his gaze. Your cheeks grow warm at the affectionate look in his eyes.

“What?” you ask quietly.

“Nothin’,” he chuckles. “You just look really pretty today. I mean, not that you don’t look pretty every day, but…”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Parker,” you grin at him. You giggle as he rolls his eyes and pushes himself up to a seating position. He turns and rummages through his backpack, pulling something out with a triumphant ah-ha.

He holds up his camera for you to see and says with a smile, “Lemme take a picture of you.”

“Okay,” you say and begin to situate yourself as he stands up. You lean back on your elbows and cross one of your legs over the other. You smile up at Peter, who now has his camera positioned and ready to take your picture.

Right as he presses the button, a small but mighty gust of wind blows through the park, making the skirt of your dress fly up. Your eyes widen in brief horror as you scramble to recover yourself. Peter pulls the camera away from his eye and gulps as he looks down at the picture he just took of you.

He blushes as he looks between you and the photo. Finally, he settles his eyes on you and clears his throat as he asks, “You’re n-not, um, w-wearing anything under that, are you…?”

Forgoing panties underneath your sundress for this afternoon had been a calculated—but risky—move. You and Peter hadn’t done anything beyond goodnight kisses, and you were hoping to change that if things had gone well today. You weren’t quite ready to reveal your wardrobe choice to him just yet, but the way his eyes keep dropping down to where your dress is now covering you has you feeling a bit bold.

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you shrug your shoulders. “I dunno. Why don’t you find out?”

You’ve never seen a man drop to his knees faster before.

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman fanfiction #tasm!peter fanfiction #the amazing spiderman fanfiction #andrew garfield #andrew garfield characters #tasm!peter parker drabble #tasm!peter parker fluff #marvel fanfiction #drabble

134 notes · View notes

alwaysmoncheri · 1 month

Note

hello! I hope you’re doing good! I would like to request a fic with tasm!peter parker or james potter if you prefer, but something where they’re making out and the reader ends up breaking his glasses? If that makes sense🫣

hi, my darling, i’m am doing very well! thank you for requesting, that makes complete sense! I’m totally watching tasm again after writing this <3

cw: fem!reader, making out, slightly suggestive (but not really), aunt may walking in, established relationship, fluff, 1.2k

Peter’s mouth is on your neck while the bridge of his glasses rubs against the skin just an inch higher than his mouth. His hands stay firmly planted on your hips as you sit in his lap on his swivel chair. Your textbook and computer lay abandoned next to his on his desk in front of you.

“Peter, I have to study,” you mumble, but the sigh that escapes your lips makes your excuse less believable, “We have to study.” you add, trying you best to get yourself and peter back on track for a big exam tomorrow. Crazy for Peter or not, this test is important and you need to get a little studying in, but you can’t get Peter to keep his hands off you.

“No, we don’t.” Peter replies quickly, before biting your neck, causing you to let out squeak.

“Peter,” you practically whine, and the chuckle that falls from Peter’s mouth vibrates onto your neck, causing you to squirm in his lap. When Peter lifts his head from your neck, you’re pouting. Lips jutted out and eyebrows pinched together with pleading eyes. Oh, Peter could die right here with you in his arms. He pulls you closer, biceps and hands pressed into your sides and forearms into your stomach.

“You’re going to be fine,” Peter offers gently, pressing a much softer kiss to your cheek, allowing you to release the tension from your face, “You’ve studied plenty already.”

“But–”

“No, buts,” Peter shuts you down, gently rubbing your sides in an attempt to silence your worries. He wants to kiss you so bad, but he would never do it without your permission. And if you want to study, he’ll let you, but he doesn’t think you really do, “Kiss me?”

Peter hears you release a long, dramatic, sigh before shifting yourself in his lap so that you’re straddling him, his hands now stabilizing you by your waist. For a moment your face is expressionless and Peter can’t read you. He worries that you’re unhappy with him but when he sees a giddy smile creep onto your face, he instantly reciprocates and his worries melt away.

You lock your hands around Peter’s neck before leaning in to kiss him. At first, you kiss him softly, tenderly just because you love him. But when you lightly tug on Peter’s hair at the nape of his neck, he takes it as a sign to tug on your hips, pulling you flush against his chest and deepen the kiss. But when the bridge of you nose knocks into Peter’s glasses, you groan in momentary pain, causing his eyes to widen, hand reaching up to gently hold your cheek, the action asking if you’re okay. When you nod your head and meet his gaze, you notice his concern before it’s quickly replaced with frustration. Peter quickly tears his glasses on his face and tosses them towards his bed without sparing a glance in that direction. But when a soft crack echos from across the room, you snap your gaze towards the glasses that now lay broken at the bridge on the floor.

“Peter!” You gasp, shifting your gaze between him and the broken glasses, but no concern seems to be etched on his face.

“Don’t worry, I can get new ones,” Peter assures you, kissing the corners of your lips while his nose delicately brushes the apples of your cheeks, “I just wanna kiss you.” Peter whispers and you feel a rush of warmth spread across your face at his tone.

“Aunt May isn’t going to be happy.” You state, nervously glancing towards the door that Peter probably forgot to lock again.

“Shush, less talking, baby,” Oh god, you melt completely at the way his says baby and presses his finger to your mouth, before replacing it with his lips, “More kissing.” He adds in between a few quick, hard, presses of his lips on yours.

“Oh whatev—hmph!”

Peter kisses you long and hard, successfully getting you to stop talking. You feel hot all over when he kisses you again and again. And when you rank your fingers through his hair, lightly tugging on the ends, while simultaneously gently biting his bottom lip, Peter makes a sound between a gasp and a groan that makes you want to do it again just so you can hear the sound once more. There’s a kiss, another, and another, you’re so caught up in the feeling of his mouth against yours, carefully sliding your hands up and down his chest before lightly gripping a fist full of his shirt to keep him near you.

The way Peter touches you is like muscle memory, he knows how to make you gasp and what makes you shiver. When, his hands slip under the material of your shirt and caress your skin, your body reacts exactly how he knows it always does. Then, he lifts you up, your legs wrap around his waist, and with his lips still on yours, he gently lowers the both of you onto his bed. He seems so far away now and you can’t handle it. Before he even has the chance to lower himself further down onto the bed, you grab his biceps, which are tensed from holding himself up, and tug him towards you. Peter practically falls and suddenly the weight of his whole body is on top of you, Peter worries for a moment, breaking the kiss, but you make a noise, reminiscent to a childish whine before grabbing his jaw with both of you hands and pulling him back. With his lips on yours, his tongue slides into your mouth while your thumbs trace the outline of his jaw and his hand slides behind you back and into your shirt.

“Hey, do you two know where—Oh my goodness!” You and Peter are quickly pulled apart, turning your heads in the direction of Aunt May’s loud gasp. She stands just outside the bedroom with one hand still on the doorknob, her expression loudly displaying her shock. Peter stays on top of you for a split second, before May’s gaze shifts between his hand in your shirt and both of your disheveled appearances, “Peter Benjamin Parker!”

With that, Peter immediately jumps up from on top of you, quickly grabbing your hand to stand next to him. Both of your faces are flushed red from being caught, even if all you were doing was kissing. Aunt May stands by the door, both of her hands placed firmly on her hips, presumably awaiting a reasonable response while you and Peter glance at each other in search of something to say. When Peter’s gaze returns to his aunt, he finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Aunt May—We were just—” Peter pauses as he stumbles over his words, feeling pathetic under the eyes of both you and his aunt.

“Studying.” You finish with a somewhat convincing smile and when Aunt May turns to you, her gaze softens, but when she notices the broken glasses laying forgotten on the floor behind you, her questioning expression returns.

“And what happened to your glasses?” Aunt May asks, a triumphant smile crossing her face as she knows she’s caught the two of you red-handed in your obvious lie, “Were you studying when that happened?”

You and Peter hesitate, he sends you a nervous smile and the both of you bite your tongues, not trusting yourselves to speak. After a moment, the two of you nod, heads hanging low.

“Mhm, right,” May hums before sending Peter a look that says, ‘we’ll talk later.’ Then, she takes a few steps into the room, causing you and Peter’s eyes to widen, but May only steps around you to pick up the broken glasses before walking back towards the door, “Well, dinner is almost ready, you two better behave.”

“Okay, yeah, thank you, May.” Peter says, and you can tell he’s beyond flustered by the situation as he runs a hand through his hair, then brushes a finger along his bottom lip, “We’ll be down soon.”

May nods before sending the both of you one final look, this one a little more playful than the rest. She exits the bedroom and closes the door behind her, leaving you and Peter alone once again.

The both of you share a glance before breaking out in a fit of laughter. Peter falls back onto the bed, tugging you down with his so that you’re laying on his chest.

“I told you she’d be mad.” You tease, running your hand up his chest, eventually reaching the back of his neck, while leaving a gentle kiss on his jaw.

“It was so worth it.” Peter smirks before flipping you over and kissing your face

masterlist . tasm!peter parker masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

tags: @googie-jeon, @Kevia1000, @annoyingmidgetwhowrites, @averyhotchner, @marauderswhxre, @vixparker

889 notes · View notes

cosmal · 1 year

Note

✪ — oh em gee what about ❛ this is a good look for you. ❜ with peter parker

stained

summary — peter spills a drink on your top at a party.

content — tasm!peterparker x fem!afab!reader, mentions of nudity

note — sorry this is super short! more of a baby blurb!

You sit on the edge of the toilet, naked from the waist up, while Peter is hunched over the bathroom sink, scrubbing at your shirt.

"Peter, just leave it, I'll wash it at home," you say softly. He looks really determined.

He'd spilt his drink all over your top downstairs at the party you're at. He'd felt horrible and insisted that he could get the stain out in the sink. The green stain out of your white top.

Turns out dawn soap and lukewarm water don't do the job. "I'm sorry, baby, really," he frets, holding the top up where it drips into the sink. You're not sure if he's made it better or worse. You appreciate him nonetheless.

"Pete, thank you, really," you start, shifting uncomfortably over the plastic lid. You cross your arms over your chest, where your bra digs into your skin, and look at the wet mess Peter holds in his hands. "It's okay. But now I have no top."

Peter drops the shirt looking really guilty. He feels horrible because he's ruined one of your favourite tops and he's also the reason you're half-naked in some random condo.

"Shit," he curses to himself.

He doesn't think twice. Peeling his jacket off, he stands at your knees and holds it out. "Here," he says bashfully. It's a thin jacket, made of nothing really. It's all you've got and you're not about to start complaining.

You stand to slip it on and hate it when you realise it has no zipper. Or any buttons. You pull it taut over your front and start to feel anxious. "Can you see anything?"

He pulls the collar forwards over your collarbones and smooths it out over your shoulders. "You're safe," he smiles. You watch his throat bob under the skin of his lightly stubbled neck. "It, uh, it looks really good."

"Pete," you groan while tipping your head back. "I'm naked, in the middle of the city, wearing my clumsy boyfriend's jacket, and you're getting turned on?"

"What?" he gawps, clearing his throat, "I am not! You just suit it, that's all."

You pull it tight around your middle and roll your eyes. "You're unbelievable."

He plays with the hem between his fingers, keeping his eyes planted to the floor momentarily. "It's a good look on you."

You straighten your back and ignore the way he's making you feel. Time and place you remember. "Right, we're going outside unnoticed and you're gonna hail a cab with those long arms of yours."

"You don't wanna swing home?" he asks.

"You don't have your shit," you grumble. It'd be convenient, but also reckless.

"My shit? You mean my suit?" he laughs, wrapping a hand around the hinge of your elbow. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that because I deserve it."

Peter makes sure you're decent before he opens the door to the bathroom. You stand behind him, hanging off his arm, hoping his broad shoulders will do you a favour and hide you well.

There's a drunk guy on the other side for the toilet presumably. Peter moves to the side to shield you on instinct when you squeak out a surprised noise. You push your chest against him to cover the slip of skin that struggles to be covered by the jacket, and let Peter guide you down the hall.

You lean in to whisper in his ear, "You owe me, Parker."

You get out onto the street when he says, "I'll show you how sorry I am when we get home."

6K notes · View notes

webslingingslasher · 10 months

Note

ok but what if some girl would be saying that she slept with frat!peter after some party (where he was with trouble) and stuff like "oh yeah he had me calling him daddy and he's totally not a boob guy" and trouble overhears her and goes to peter with "you would not believe what i have just heard" and joking that maybe she has magic tits or something

you weren't listening.

minding your own business, pouring liquor into plastic cups, and cracking a can of sprite for a mixer; a group of friends crowded behind you. not listening, but certain words poked out more than others.

"he's fucking jacked by the way, it's like when i hooked up with parker."

your blood ran cold, frozen in place you were straining your hearing for each word to follow, if she didn't add more context you'd be shaking peter by his shirt.

a friend gasps, "you did? when?"

oh, not old news?

yeah, when did she?

flashing your eyes to peter, he's talking to someone and not paying attention. you'll kill him.

"like, around the start of the school year?"

oh thank god, he's in the clear.

"okay, well... spill!"

you can't walk away, your feet are glued to the vinyl floor. maybe, you just want to know if peter's telling the truth when he says you're different than the rest.

"ass man all the way, insisted on doggy. big dick, strong game, threw me around a little, had me calling him daddy and everything. not very affectionate though, i don't think he kissed me, actually. and not a lick of a cuddle after, threw my dress at me and said 'need an uber?' but, hey, i'd still do it again."

another friend cackles, "too bad, nate begged him to do a double date and parker immediately shut it down and said, and i quote, 'no. i have a girlfriend. she doesn't want me dating other girls.' kinda sweet if you ask me."

your heart soars, this is the first time he's ever referred to you as his girlfriend. not that you were, at least not officially, but it's easier to explain than what you actually were, and you had no idea what you were. you assume he doesn't either.

their conversation falls into something else, making you feel confident in moving away from the counter with a full cup in each hand, walking straight to the most interesting man of the night.

peter perking up instantly, leaving his friend with a fist bump, meeting you halfway.

"hi trouble, i missed you." a warm kiss placed on your cheek, you can't help the grin while handing him his drink, "hi handsome, i got a question..." you trail your words off and shift your back against his chest so he'd have a clear view of who you're pointing at.

"see that group of friends, do you know anyone there?"

he barely gives them a look over, one harm slung over your waist, he presses a kiss to your shoulder, "no, don't think so."

nudging him, "no, really. look." a sigh, "looking, no one looks familiar." the back of your head hits his chest, "peter, c'mon. please don't tell me you're one of those guys."

"i don't know what you mean! are you testing me or something?"

turning in his hold, a small pout hangs. "you hooked up with one of them. tell me which one and you earn two brownie points."

that changes things, because now peter knows what the mission is and how to identify previous suitors. mind ticking and eyes running over each body in a different way. watching him analyze is interesting. You wonder what he looks for in a hookup.

"the one in the middle. i'm sure of it, but i can't remember her name. I think it started with an 's' or 'v' maybe 'l'?"

"It's whitney," peter cheers his cup on your shoulder, "oh yeah, that's right."

you spin in his grasp, "liar. i made that up." peter pulls you closer, "you're just so convincing, trouble. call me gullible."

humming, you press a kiss to his chin, "she was talking about you, wanna hear?"

"this feels like a trap, i don't like this idea."

"oh, you should. i heard all about you in bed, and how you told nate i was your girlfriend." peter shakes his head, "i think you've been hitting the sauce hard tonight and you're making things up."

shaking your head like a toddler, "nope, i heard the truth about daddy." peter's head is thrown back with a groan, "alright, wow, we're really doing this. what else did you hear?"

"that you're an ass man, and," you sway on your feet and pretend to twirl a stand of hair, a nasally sarcastic tone rips, "you're like so, super fucking jacked. like, seriously so sexy. ugh! with a big dick too!"

peter presses a kiss to your cheek, "thank you for the compliments, baby." another kiss, the corner of your mouth, "even if you're sarcastic." a delicate kiss to your lips, "and a little wrong."

"which part was wrong? she's right, you've got a fucking wrench."

your cup is pulled from your hand, "alright, it's done. we're done."

a whine, "no! c'mon, please, daddy?"

"i'll silence you and you won't like it."

"will it be with your monster coc-"

a hand is slapped over your mouth, "i'll kill you, and won't have a problem with it."

#peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #tasm!peter x reader #frat!peter drabbles #my writing

2K notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 9 months

Note

'you're a very good kisser.' - send me a request for a baby blurb! give me a character, and a plotline, and i'll write you a little fanfiction :)

omg what about tasm!peter taking you to the library for a ‘study date’ but you just end up kissing in the history section oops 🤭

join my 20K celebration!

'you're a very good kisser.' - send me a request for a baby blurb! give me a character, and a plotline, and i'll write you a little fanfiction :)

Everything's going fine, more than that, actually, until a textbook digs into your spine. Peter's too far gone to realize that your squirming is out of discomfort rather than pleasure, and you have to push against his chest to get him to break away from the kiss he's pressing you against the shelves with.

He blinks dazedly, his lips slick with spit as he pants slightly.

"What- what's wrong?"

"There's-" You reach behind you, squinting at the cover of the book you'd been bruised by, "Napoleon decided to join us."

"Oh," He laughs softly, keeping his voice down in case anyone comes to bust you for using the library inappropriately, "I think that's why we're not supposed to make out in the library."

Despite his previous statement, he leans in for another kiss.

"Peter," You mumble, unable to resist the temptation to reciprocate. He kisses you firm and steady, but you peck his lips once, twice, "Peter, I think we should move."

"Mmm okay." He hums, nose still prodding at your cheek, lips on your own, "Romance section?"

"Bedroom," You worm out of his grip, taking his hand and dragging him towards the exit. He follows eagerly, nodding with a hazy grin.

"That- that works, too." He decides, "Much less dusty."

1K notes · View notes

thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

Note

can you make a peter parker smut where he gets a 89% on his math final and he needs to js take it out on the reader 🤩🤩

A/N: ops, I finished writing this before the clock even struck 6 in the morning... idk how to explain, I have the circadian rhythm of an 80-year-old tbh.

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“Not that I’m complaining,” you panted, lazily running your fingers along the dewy spine of the man sprawled out on top of you, “but what was all of that? Where did it come from?”

Shifting his face on the swell of your tits, parting the heat of your bosom from his cheek, he glanced up at you with weary eyes and reluctantly uttered, “I got a 89% on my math final…”

“89?” you cocked a brow, not taking into account who it was you were talking to, “but that’s such a good grade.”

“Yeah, but not for me and especially not in math,” you detected the heated tears threatening to come to fruition, “I’ve never gotten below a 92, period, but that’s usually in things that I suck at, not math, never math,” his hold on you tightened as he lowered his head back down, staring intensely at the chipped spot on the wall beside your bed.

Eyes locked on the crown of his head, you helplessly uttered just above a whisper, “I’m sorry Peter. I’m really sorry,” feeling your naked body being to tremble beneath his in empathy, “fuck… I don’t know what to do to make you feel better…”

Feeling the spent hardness, that never quite disappeared, press against your inner thigh with a cautious grind of his hips, he peeked up at you once more and suggested, “round two?” actually withdrawing a faint giggle within you from the heart-breaking smirk on his lips, “just let me fuck you till I forget, even if it just slips away for a second, please, let me have this, let me have you…”

2K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 2 months

Note

hi!

can i request tasm!peter meeting reader after having to do long distance?

if not thats okay! love your writing:)

have a great day<3

Thanks lovely, hope you have a great day as well!

Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 683 words

You don’t just give out copies of the key to your apartment, so when the front door opens you think you’re about to be shot.

Breath caught in your throat, you freeze in the hallway and say the first deterrent that comes to mind. “I’ve got a gun!”

The laughter that responds is as familiar as it is cheeky. “No, you don’t,” Peter says.

“Jesus.” Your heart starts again, and in that split second your feet are already moving.

Peter opens his arms as you throw yourself at him, taking your weight happily. “Nope, just me,” he quips, his harsh grip at odds with the levity of his voice.

“Still a bad joke.” Your own voice is thick with fondness. You press your face into his neck, getting your boyfriend as close as you can. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here.” He gives your upper back an excited squeeze. “You miss me?”

“Not even,” you mumble into his shoulder. You go ahead and wrap your legs around his waist, and Peter chuckles, starting to walk the both of you towards your couch. “You scared the shit out of me, you know.”

“Yeah, maybe not my best plan.” He collapses downward, and you fold yourself around him more completely, getting comfortable in his lap. You think you’ll just never leave, honestly. “I thought the surprise would be more fun than scary.”

“I could’ve met you at the airport.”

“May would’ve killed me.” He palms the back of your neck, lips finding your hairline. “She wanted to pick me up herself, but she’s letting you have me for dinner. I have to be back by ten.”

You let out a petulant whine. “Why does she get to decide?”

You adore Peter’s aunt and he knows it, but when you’re having to battle her for custody of your boyfriend all that love goes right out the window.

“I know,” Peter commiserates. “You’d think after a semester of taking care of myself in another country, I’d be allowed to stay out until at least eleven.”

You hum, vacating your spot in the juncture of his neck in favor of seeing his face. You pet down the cowlick at the crown of his head, and Peter catches your hand, kissing your palm. A warm thrumming starts up in your chest. It’s similar to the sensation you’d gotten during your evening calls while Peter was abroad (well, your evening, his late night), but more. Better. You’ve missed feeling it like this.

“How was Hertfordshire?” you ask.

Peter gives you a look like you’re being silly. “I told you already.”

“It’s different in person.”

He smiles, thinking. “Small. Grassy. Cute, but not much to swing off of.” There’d been no vigilante work while Peter did his research abroad. He talked like it was a welcome break, but you could tell he missed it. Something changes in his look, eyes going soft and flirty. “No pretty girls.”

You bite back a smile. “Let’s not do the women of Hertfordshire a disservice,” you chide.

“Fine.” Peter rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “None of my pretty girl.”

He lifts his chin and you oblige him, touching your lips to his. It’s a kiss months in the making, and it heats quicker than either of you are expecting. Your heart thunders and throbs to the point of aching. You shuffle closer in Peter’s lap and his hand presses into the small of your back, both of your breathing turning harsh and desperate.

“Missed you,” he says into your mouth.

“I missed you more.”

“Wanna bet?” Peter lifts you off the couch, and his casual strength shouldn’t surprise you anymore but it does. You laugh, again wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Shouldn’t we start to think about dinner?” you ask as he carries you towards your bedroom.

He hums, reluctant. “What time is it?”

You look to the side to check the clock on your microwave, and he kisses your cheekbone while you do. “Almost seven.”

Peter hums against your skin, pressing another kiss to the side of your nose. “We’ve got time.”

264 notes · View notes

bruisedboys · 9 months

Note

Helluu, congrats!!!

I would like to request STAR TRIPPING, blurbs— “i don’t have time for distractions” and (if it’s okay to choose two prompts, if not you can choose the one you want to write:)) “you look so pretty right now” with tasm!pete<3

another old 4k celly request!! sorry this is so late angel. I went with the second prompt, hope this is okay!

tasm!peter parker x gn!reader

Peter’s bleeding out on your bed. Again.

You can’t say you’re very surprised.

“Pete, would you please just stay still? I cant focus when you keep touching me like that.”

Peter isn’t a very good patient. At least not when you’re nursing him. He wants to touch you and look at your face and basically find any way to distract you from the task at hand. Which just so happens to be patching him up.

“Sorry,” he says, pulling his hands away from where they’d been resting in your shoulders, his thumbs tracing your collarbones through your shirt. His shirt, really. But who’s paying attention to that?

You huff. He doesn’t sound very sorry at all. He sounds like he’s smiling. You look up from where your eyes had been trained on his bruised and bloodied chest and find you’re right. He’s smirking.

You glare. Peter balks.

“What?” He says, dripping in fake innocence. “I just— you look so pretty right now.” His eyes go all melty and soft and so does his voice. He reaches up with one hand to cup your burning cheek. “I can’t help it, dove.”

You groan. He’s lovely. And he’s a total menace. You hate him, you swear.

“I can’t believe you,” you say, nudging his hand away with your cheek. “I just got out of bed. I look so gross.”

“You don’t,” Peter says, sounding way more offended than he needs to be. His hand finds your waist and you can feel it’s warmth through the soft fabric of your (his) t-shirt. You very secretly wish he’d dip his hand under the hem like he always does. “You’re beautiful.”

You drop the cloth you’re dabbing his wounds with and climb out of his lap with a huff.

“Y/N—!”

“I’m going back to bed,” you say grumpily, walking away without looking back.

Despite his wounds, Peter catches up with you within an instant, promising to keep his hands to himself until you’re finished cleaning him up. He doesn’t keep his promise. You find you don’t mind as much as you should.

951 notes · View notes

writtenbymoonflower · 4 months

Text

Unpretty

You are insecure and Peter is oblivious. tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

cw: reader had very negative thoughts about body image. mentions of weight and general body image issues. i tried to keep it as neutral as possible so everybody could read and relate, so it can be read as plus!size reader or not.

1.5k words

The position you were in wasn’t unnecessarily uncomfortable. The physical part felt really nice, actually. Peter was laid on his side, nose nuzzled into your hair while you were in his arms flat on your back. His even breathing was soothing and you felt close and warm.

Emotionally, however, you felt confused.

You had to resist cringing every time you remembered that Peter’s large hand was spread over the bottom of your tummy, likely feeling everything “wrong” about it. He could definitely feel it wasn’t as flat or firm as you would like it to be, even through your thick crewneck. And even though you logically knew it was impossible, you felt the stinging insecurity all over your body, like he was touching you everywhere you hated. Your brain was telling you that through feeling the soft part of your stomach, he could also feel and see where your thighs were too big, where stretchmarks were painted all over your body, and where your skin wasn’t completely smooth.

He probably would hate my body as much as I do if he could see. The little voice in your head nagged.

Obviously, you knew that wasn’t true. You knew that everyone had little things that bothered them and yours weren’t even especially unusual. You also knew that voicing these thoughts to Peter would likely lead to you being even more self-conscious and him being confused. Or even worse, him pitying you. You were snapped out of your spiral by Peter’s shifting in position.

“What’re you thinking of, baby?” Peter whispered. To your horror, his hand started rubbing your stomach over your sweater. “I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears.” He laughed the way he does when trying to calm you down, like he doesn’t think it’s funny but it might be less intimidating if you believe he does. You turned your head to look at him. Being this close didn’t allow you to see his full face, but you could see one of his pretty brown eyes, looking at you with far too much love for your heart to handle.

“Not thinking of anythin’ really.” You kept your voice as even as possible and hoped he didn’t hear the nervous hitch in your breath as he reached under the hem of your sweatshirt to touch your skin. You panicked and tried to cover by grabbing his hand in yours and holding it between your ribs, right under your chest. He looked confused but still stroked your hand with his thumb.

“Yeah okay.” He was sarcastic and rolling his eyes but his voice was still light. He brought your joined hands up to kiss the veins on your wrist, closing his eyes and letting his lips linger for a good few seconds. All while still burning his eyes over your face, letting his pupils linger over a feature before jumping to the next, admiring your whole face with so much care you would cry.

“What?” You asked, growing shy under his intense stare.

“You’re so pretty, baby.” He was still smiling at you like a fool. “So so pretty.” He sing-songed. He urged you to lay on top of him with his arms, but you held fast in your place. Your boyfriend apparently took this as a challenge, because he showed off his real strength by pulling you fast onto his chest.

“Peter!” You said, scolding and nervous and flustered all at once.

“What?” He asked smugly, with a look of triumph on his face. You ducked your head out of his eyesight. “Baby, what’s up?” He asked again, more sincere. You still didn’t answer, your anxiety was roaring too loud in your head. You were probably crushing him under your weight. His hands were planted on your hips, likely feeling the extra fat and getting grossed out. He was just too nice to say anything. He was also too far close to your face for comfort, definitely seeing patches of oily skin or blemishes littering your face. It all became too much for you and you tried to roll off of him, but he gripped onto you harder.

“Peter, let me off.” You kept your voice light but you were panicking inside.

“Yeah, not happening.” He stayed stubborn as a mule.

“But I’m heavy, I’ll crush you.” You said desperately.

“Good.” He rebutted, still acting as if this was a casual conversation.

“Peter, I’m serious. I’m too heavy for this. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Your voice trailed off, getting quieter towards the end. The whole sentence was soaked in shame that Peter hadn’t yet picked up on. Now, there was a concerned crease between his eyebrows.

“Huh?” He looked genuinely confused. “What put that dumb idea in your head? ‘Too heavy’ for what, exactly?” He started as if he was about to rant, but cut it short. To your dismay, he pulled more of your weight onto him.

“It’s not dumb, it’s true. I’m just too heavy” You argued back. He couldn’t really be that oblivious. Anyone with eyes could see it.

“Oh I’m sorry,” He started sassing, like he actually wasn’t sorry at all. “I didn’t know that you now were the only deciding judge of something being ‘too much.’” He was being defiant on purpose.

“Peter, please.” All joking and argumentativeness had left your tone, just leaving shame and sadness. Peter softened at this and encouraged your head up to meet his eyes, holding your jaw firmly so you couldn’t look away. He looked like he was slowly putting pieces together in his head.

“Baby,” He started, still not breaking eye contact with you. “Is this why you’ve not been letting me touch you as much?” Peter looked so sad, it didn’t suit him at all and you wanted to make it better immediately. “Do you think there’s something wrong with you, that I would think there’s something wrong with you?” On the last sentence he was extra distressed, like he couldn’t believe the words were leaving his mouth.

“I just-” You were trying to articulate your feelings without making this any worse. “I mean, not every part of me is pretty, you know that.” You tried to say it casually but Peter’s expression didn’t lighten at all. Instead, his bottom lip jutted out and his eyes got wider, looking like a cartoonishly sad puppy who was denied a treat.

“I don’t know that, actually.” He moved his hand to the back of your head, threading his fingers in your hair. “You don’t think you’re pretty?” He said the last part like his heart was cracking. And in Peter’s mind, it was. His baby was thinking badly of herself, and even worse, she was thinking he thought badly of her.

“I mean,” You cringed as the words left your mouth, wanting desperately for the conversation to end. “Not really. At least, there is a lot about me that could be a lot better.” Peter was at a loss for words. You had obviously mulled this over and were solid in your opinion.

“I don’t think there is. I think you are perfect. I love everything about you.” He said softly, his voice missing its usual teasing tone.

“But-” You started, but cut yourself off.

“But what?” Your argumentative boyfriend was back. “C’mon. Talk to me, baby.”

“I just-” You gathered your thoughts as best you could. He was really being difficult. There was no way he hadn’t noticed something. You also really did not want to say your insecurities out loud. It was too raw. But you knew Peter, and he wouldn’t back off without you giving something. “My stomach isn’t flat.” You said, as if that was enough argument for you being disgusting.

“Okay?” He actually laughed at this, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “And?”

You rolled your eyes, irritated. “And, in general I’m just too big. And my skin isn’t good either. It just doesn’t all add up very well does it?” You resisted the urge to cry, you didn’t want to add that on top of this already stressful discussion.

“Sweetheart,” He looked exasperated. “I think- I think you’re being really mean and unfair to yourself.” He searched for the right words. “Everyone has things about themselves they don’t like, yeah? But you should know, you are not too anything, and there is nothing about your looks or body that is ‘not good.’’ He said every word firmly. “And most importantly, there is nothing, absolutely nothing about your body that I dislike, or that you should worry about me seeing or touching, okay?” His voice was soft during the last few sentences, like he was speaking to a little kid with a scraped knee. It made it a lot harder to resist crying. “Okay?” he said, still looking directly into your eyes.

“Okay.” You said, watery. You swallowed hard and buried your face in his chest, feeling all too many emotions. “Thank you, Pete.” You didn’t think you could say anything else without falling apart.

“It’s okay. I'ts alright. It’s what I’m here for.” He stroked the back of your head, still being gentle. “Just do me a favor, yeah?”

“Mhm?” You muffled.

“Just, make my job easier for me next time. Tell me when you’re feeling like this, okay baby?” He pleaded as he pressed a kiss to your hair.

“Okay. I will.”

“Good. Now cuddle me please.” Demanding Peter was back. “And put all your weight on me, it’s no good otherwise.”

#tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm spiderman #tasm!peter x you #tasm!spiderman x reader #fluff #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm peter parker drabble #peter parker x reader #drabble #hurt/comfort #peter parker hurt/comfort #the amazing spider man

772 notes · View notes

luxbub · 3 months

Text

Peter is the kind of bf who rarely calls you by your name and prefers sweet little nicknames that cause your cheeks to redden.

“Pretty girl” when you are in your “no is going to see me” outfit, for him you in your natural habitat is your best look of all.

It’s not unusual for peter to come home and catch you just gotten out of the shower and in your bath robe with smeared make up staining your face. The second he catches sight of you the words “pretty girl” have already spewed out of his lips.

He uses sweetheart mostly after a fight.

“Sweetheart” in his accent drives me crazy and so it would also drive reader crazy, like just him saying the word in a normal sentence, but adding “sweetheart” at the end would make you open your legs in an instant and forget what you were mad about in the first place.

You’ve just had a fight about how reckless you are but he’s like “i wont always be there to protect you, sweetheart” and your bending over the table ready to have your guts rearranged.

Him just casually saying “darling” cause he loves seeing you blush.

Thats so real, cause who wouldn’t. I feel like thats the nickname that suits him most, so he is going to use it on a daily basis, and you wouldn’t get tired of blushing anytime that the word came out of his mouth.

Even when you have just woken up and are turning on your side to look at him, he is already mumbling the words “good morning, darling” literally making you fold.

#peter parker drabble #peter parker blurb #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker x y/n #tasm peter parker x reader #marvel x reader #🫧bubbles writes

456 notes · View notes

cosmal · 1 year

Note

✪ — sender is found drunk by receiver, ❛ i just wanted to make sure you’re okay. ❜

tequila makes me sleepy

summary — pete comes to find you at a party after you call him.

content — tasm!peter parker x fem!afab!reader, drunk!reader, metnions of gross guys sexualizing reader

Peter doesn't have his mask on. He's been swinging about Queens trying to find the party you're at and he hasn't thought about how he's recognisable the entire time.

He thinks about how tired you'd sounded on the phone. How you'd begged him to stay on the phone so you wouldn't fall asleep. Thinking about it more makes him panicky, but he can't help it.

"Tequila makes me sleepy, Parker."

"Yeah? Where are you, honey?"

"Some party. Stay on the phone? Don't wanna fall asleep."

Eventually, he finds the party. In the back of his dizzy mind, he remembers you mentioning it on Tuesday when you were over at his apartment. He remembers how excited you were about it and how upset you were because he wasn't coming.

He lands in the alley beside the building and wastes no time in pushing through the front door. He stands in the front entranceway and starts to get frustrated. Most of the time, he hates his enhanced senses. Even more so right now because he can't hear you.

He blames it on the crowd. There are way too many people here for him to be focusing on just one. But it's you. He knows more about you than he does himself and he can't fucking hear you. He hopes that he's too overwhelmed. The reason why he can't hear you. Not because you've left and you're somewhere, drunk and unsafe, where he can't find you.

"Hey," he grabs the arm of some drunk guy, "where's the bedroom?"

Pointing down to the left with a wobbly arm, "Down that hall," he slurs.

Peter doesn't say thank you. He drops his arm and heads In that direction. Avoiding PDA and more rowdy drunk guys.

The relief he feels when he pushes open the door only lasts a few moments. He finds you, on your stomach with your face smooshed against your arm, asleep. Your sparkly dress rides up your legs to reveal enough bare skin to make Peter feel uncomfortable. He's grateful he's here right now.

The mattress dips down where he sits down by your head, and can't help himself from pushing your messy hair from your face.

Your lips parted, you wrinkle up your face when you start to rouse. Peter is selfish with his hands, squeezing at the fat of your shoulder, running a knuckle down your soft cheek. Slowly, you come to, blinking away your fatigue. Peter, and he's super sorry for it, thinks you're adorable.

"Hello," he says softly. He doesn't know why, but he feels guilty for waking you.

"Peter," you say, lips sticking together with blotchy gloss, "Pete, hey." This time when you say it, it's just understandable. He appreciates the fond hum to your words nonetheless.

"Hey," he says and pushes his thumb into your cheek. You groan because he's a nuisance but he doesn't care because you're okay.

You sit up on your elbows and he can tell you're trying not to wobble. He wants to stable you but doesn't know how to in your position. You seem as dizzy as he'd expect because you always are when drunk. You have the scars on your knees to prove it.

"What are you doing here?" you mumble, scratching at your face with a flippancy he hates.

He catches your hand and rubs your face for you. Gently, because he's not mean, he smooths the back of his hand down your cheek and pushes his fingers over your eyebrow and into your hair.

"Just wanted to make sure you were okay," he tells you. "You sounded bad on the phone, honey."

"Shit, I'm," you hiccup and he panics for a moment. "Shit I'm sorry, Pete, I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," he says honestly. You did scare him but it's okay now because it was reasonable. And you're okay.

You sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed and he stables you with a hand on the bottom of your back. Pulling your dress down your legs, he frowns when you shiver.

"You cold?" he worries.

Nodding, you clearly regret it with a groan. "A little. This dress is horrible."

"You think?"

"Yeah, it's itchy and-" you're hiccuping some more and he hopes you don't make yourself sick, "it's too small. The guys here- they, they're gross."

Peter goes rigid. "They didn't do anything did they?"

You shake your head and there's a timidness to you that Pete wants to capture and keep forever. You, an image, rumpled clothes and droopy eyes. Despite how worried he'd been only ten minutes ago, he thinks you're amazing. It's terrifying, honestly.

"No, they just look at me..." you trail off and look at the wall over Peter's shoulder quickly, "They look at me like I'm a piece of meat."

Peter doesn't know what to say. He feels queasy.

"Well, they don't look at me like you are right now."

"Like what?" he lets his tongue catch up to his head.

"I don't know." You shrug and look at your lap.

Peter can't help himself. "I hope they don't look at you like I do. Like you're the prettiest girl in the room. If they do, they need to find someone else."

You let your head fall against his shoulder. "Pete..."

"It's true."

"They don't." He can hear your smile.

"They don't?" Peter now sounds half-offended. "Who else are they looking at like that? You're the prettiest girl in the room."

You have the decency in you to scoff. "You're unbelievable."

"I know," he says when you yawn. "I know. C'mon let's get you home."

3K notes · View notes

webslingingslasher · 10 months

Note

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZSL56DDcV/

ok wait no :(

cause imagine peter said this as a joke but you thought he was being real so you stop doing it and he kinda misses it and keeps trying to get you to bite him but you won't and so one night after sex and cuddles, you roll over and he waits until he's almost sure you're asleep and very gently asks,

"do you not think i'm cute enough to eat, anymore?"

and you turn back around, and see he was facing your back with a pout, like actually distressed and avoiding your eyes.

"what?"

"when you bit me you said it's cause i was cute enough to eat, but you don't do it anymore."

he's so quiet, like it's actually tore him apart inside. you reach out to grab his shoulder, your thumb brushing over your favorite area to nibble on. a soft spot between his armpit and pec.

"you said it hurt."

at last, peter looks at you, "c'mon, kid. look at me, you think you could do any real damage?"

"remember that one time i almost made you cry cause i accidently knee'd your sack?"

"okay, fine, i have one soft spot."

you shuffle closer and kiss the spot he missed your gentle abuse, "i think you have two."

"mh? what's my second."

a kiss to his chin, "me."

"you think so?" he's not denying it, in fact, he said it with a smile.

"why else would you have an existential crisis over me not biting you?"

"you don't have to keep edging me, trouble. give me a nibble so i feel loved."

how could you deny that?

your teeth sink into his plush skin, it's softer than you'd normally do, still scared of hurting him, until he whispers out, "harder," and you do.

"harder," your brows furrow, but you follow his request.

peter grunts, "c'mon, harder."

you'll leave an indent you're sure of it, but you pull his skin between your teeth and clamp down. he hisses, "harder," you can't, you'll hurt him for real, he can sense your hesitation, "fucking bruise me."

and that makes something in you ignite, you follow his command and nearly feel your teeth meet between his skin. you feel his chest grow with a sharp inhale, but the stangled moan that hits the back of his throat makes you think he's got an undiscovered pain kink.

"there we go, see how hard it is to hurt me?"

but you hear it as, 'see how force i want you to use next time?'

#peter parker blurb #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker fluff #my writing #frat!peter drabbles

1K notes · View notes