wounds and bad moods - peter parker
Pairing: Peter Parker x reader
Summary: #2: “You’re hot when you’re angry.” #7: “Yeah, you’re a horrible liar.” #11: “Oh, I dare you.”
Warning: slight language
Requested: yes (anon)
this is low key how peter would act lol hope you enjoy!
“Peter, what the fuck?” you questioned your up boyfriend as he had just leaped through your open window in the middle of the night.
You got off your bed and made your way closer to him, his lanky figure limp, shoulders hunched over. Your annoyance with his sudden entrance instantly softened as you realized he was in pain. He slowly reached towards his face with his right hand, yanking the mask off his face.
Your eyes came in contact with a huge bruise taking space underneath his right eye, and numerous cuts of various shapes and sizes scattered across his handsome face. You felt a pang in your heart at his wounded state.
You gasped after taking it all in, lightly grazing the side of his face, “P-Peter? What happened to you?” you weakly spoke as your hands trembled underneath his face.
He winced slightly at your soft touch, bright brown eyes quickly shutting tight, teeth grinding against each other. He turned his head to the side and moved back lightly.
“I’m fine, Y/N. I promise,” his voice comes out hoarse. He moves from his previous position by your bedroom window to sitting down on your bed, wincing as he sat down.
You felt the anger begin to bubble in the pit of your stomach, wanting to destroy whoever did this to someone as sweet as Peter Parker.
Crossing your arms over your chest, you purse your lips before rolling your eyes heavily at the poor boy in front of you, “Yeah, you’re a horrible liar,” you say matter of factly, “Pete, you’re wincing every you sit down!”
His eyes droop to your carpeted floor, sighing as he knows you’re right, “I know,” he muttered, his arms reaching back behind his body, steadying himself on his arms.
You scale his beaten frame once more before walking out of your room and grabbing the first aid from the kitchen cabinet. You walk back in, his poor eyes looking up at you, filled with pain. You feel yourself break at his gaze once again, your mind a mix of guilt, anger, and love.
You pull your desk chair in front of, sitting down and placing the kit on your bed beside him, “Let me see,” your hand moved back in forth signaling for him to take off his suit. His lips pursed, a sign of guilt as he reaches up, beginning to undress himself of it. As the suit pooled around his feet, your eyes wandered over his chest and abs, bruises and cuts sticking out like sore thumbs against his smooth skin.
You sighed again, reaching in the first aid kit and his eyes stared at your hands beginning to patch up his wounds, regret filling the. Guilt fills your body, so you try and lighten the mood, to help the situation and distract Peter from the soon helpful pain he was about endure.
“Alright tough guy, how big was he this time,” your lips jerking upward in a sly smile as he looks at you, a small smile portrayed across his own face.
“He wasn’t that big this time, he was just… dangerous,” he slowly let out, eyes seeming to wander back to his fight earlier in the night.
You gritted your teeth just thinking about Peter getting punched in previous places, his nose bleeding, his whole body being in helpless pain. Peter saw your angered state, the heat beginning to glow in your eyes and he felt his love for you get even stronger, seeing how much you cared for his being.
He cocked his head up at you, slightly smiling as you took a wet cloth and dabbed the blood away from each and every cut, “So, I think the question I need to ask is, are you okay?”
Your attention stayed on his wounds, your hand continued to dab the blood away, not even daring to look into his playful eyes for a split second. You just muttered a few cuss words as you leaned over and ripped a band aid package open before ripping out your emotions verbally, “I want to beat the ever living hell out of whoever did this to you,” you let out, hand tightening sound the towel in anger.
Peter’s eyebrows lifted at your sudden bothered state, his heart wanting to distract you from his beaten up frame. He smiled at your concern and dared to lighten the mood himself, watching your lip come underneath your teeth, tugging slightly.
“You’re hot when you’re angry,” he smirked, scooting closer to you. Pink sprawled across your cheeks as you looked up at his cheeky smirk.
You tried to ignore you bad mood, moving your mind back to focusing on his wounds, you reached over and grabbed the, as Peter would call it, “Ow” spray to layer over his cuts. His eyes dart to your hand inside the kit, widening as he began to vigorously shake his head back and forth at your soon to be action.
“Oh, I dare you,” Peter let out, his pointer finger attempting to stop your actions. You roll your eyes once more before twisting the cap to spray on his chest.
“Y/N, no, no, no, please babe, don’t-”
“Peter I have to, you know this. It’ll make them heal quicker and keep them from getting infected.”
His features crinkled in pain and annoyance, preparing for the sting to hit all over his body. You felt bad once again, even though you two go through this routine every time. You dipped your head down, lips puckering before lightly kissing three places on his chest softly. His shoulders dipped, his body instantly letting into your soft touch and sweet gestures. His entire body went from feeling like fire to a soft and calm state, the feeling of your lips on him washing him over every time.
He smiled at you softly before you shook the bottle and pointed it towards him, giving him a few seconds to gain composure.
He bit his lip on instinct before muttering, “Okay, hit me.”
You shook your head playfully and began to lightly spray all of his cuts and wounds. He sat there like a champ as you took time out of your night to take care of him. And he couldn’t of asked for a better person to hit him with the “Ow” Spray. (lololol)