peter peel

Dead Serious Part 3

A/N: LOL SORRY I DIDNT POST THIS SOONER I WAS WATCHING SPIDERMAN HOMECOMING FOR THE FOURTH TIME. ANYWays So I kind of started this with the ending of part 2. Enjoy this smut you smut reading potatoes (you’re not potatoes, you’re all very lovely. i’m also a smut reading potato). Creds to the Periodic Table song for helping me remember the order of all the elements.

Word Count: 1441



Part 1 //  Part 2


“So, is the next step studying or something else?” You asked

“I feel like the next step would be you reciting your notes to me while I went down on you,” Peter said.

“All of my notes?”

Peter moved so he was hovering over top of you.

“Fine, Y/N, I’m going to eat you out and you’re going to recite the periodic table to me,”

You weren’t sure whether you should begin reciting it in your head, knowing you would lose focus once Peter put his lips on you.

Peter placed his lips on your neck, peppering sloppy, wet kisses down towards your chest. Peter’s hand moved around to try and unclasp your bra.

He continued kiss down your neck, fumbling with your bra.

“Need some help there, lover boy?”

Peter pulled away “I-I I’ve never…”

“I know, it’s okay,” You smiled, placing a light kiss on his lips.

You leaned up, and reached around behind your back to unclasp your bra. As soon as it was unclasped, Peter peeled it off your shoulders and tossed it across the room.

Peter moved to place one hand over your breast, kneading it, while his mouth moved to the other. The ran his tongue over your nipple, causing you to let out a small moan.

You ran your hands along Peter’s bare back, knowing your scratch marks would be there tomorrow.

Peter moved his hands towards the waist band of your pants, he swiftly slipped your pants off, reaching down to get the past your ankles.

He continued down, pressing kisses along your stomach.

Peter kissed the edge of your panties, using his hands to spread your legs apart.

“I think it’s about time you started reciting those elements, Y/N,”

You took in a deep breathe as Peter ran a finger down the front of your panties,


“Damn, Y/N, you’re soaking wet,”


Peter leaned down and licked the front of your panties. You arched your back up, moaning.


Peter slid his hand under your back and lifted you just enough to slide off your underwear.


Peter lifted your leg, and placed his over his shoulder.


Peter places a light kiss against your clit, causing you to twitch.


Peter been running his tongue over your clit in long, slow strokes.

“Nitrogen,” you gasped, and reached down to grab Peter’s hair.

Your other hand was making fists around the sheets on Peter’s bed.

Peter felt your body shaking, so he teased his tongue back and forth, his tongue moving slower and slower.


You moved the leg that was over Peter’s shoulder to wrap around his neck, using it to pull him closer to you.


You began breathing harder. Peter moved his tongue to your entrance, lapping up the wetness that was spilling out.


You began panting, pushing your hips up.


Peter moved his attention back to your clit, ad he teased a finger in and out of you.


Peter slid another finger into you, and began moving them around.

You were moaning. Your leg tightened around Peter, and your grip on his hair got tighter with each lick on your clit.

You were struggling to talk, making the naming of elements difficult.

Suddenly Peter stopped. He moved his head away from you and slid his fingers out of you.

“No, Peter, please,” you begged

Peter licked his fingers,  “The deal was that you name the elements, and darling, I have to say it’s been quite a while since you’ve said anything,”

“Take it as a compliment, Parker. Your lips are so good that you’ve left me speechless,”

Peter began peppering kisses on your inner thighs, “Just start where you left off, darling,”

You’d didn’t want to give in to Peter, but you needed his mouth on you badly.


Peter smiled and quickly moved his mouth back towards your pussy.


Peter started sucking on your clit, causing you to moan and thrust your hips towards him.


Peter worked his tongue down, sucking on your lips and spreading you open with his fingers.

“Fuck!” You moaned

“Phosphorus,” you quickly said, remembering that Peter would stop if you stopped.

Peter worked his fingers in and out of you as he teased his tongue over your clit.


You clenched the bedsheets underneath you, and grabbed a fistful of Peter’s hair with the other hand. You brought your other leg up to wrap around Peter’s head.

“Chl-orine,” you choked out.

Peter pressed his mouth tight against you, flicking his tongue against your clit as he started thrusting his fingers into you harder.


His tongue was darting around wildly, causing you to arch your back, moaning like crazy.


Peter latched down hard on your clit, flicking his tongue around in circles. Bringing another finger up to thrust into you.


You began clenching against Peter’s fingers inside you.

“Scandium,” you breathed

You were groaning every time Peter moved his tongue, he could feel the wetness dripping out of you onto his fingers.


Peter pressed down on your clit with his tongue, you pushed your hips up, only forcing him in more.

You thrust your hips once more and suddenly you were coming. Peter began licking the cum that was dripping out of you.

Peter rubbed your clit one last time before pulling away.

“Peter,” you moaned.

You could still feel your orgasm surging through you.

You began to loosen your grip on Peter’s hair, and his bedsheets. You lied back, sinking into Peter’s pillow.

“Fuck, Peter,” you said.

Peter chuckled and came to lie down beside you.

He placed a kiss on your cheek as you continued to come down from your orgasm.

“You didn’t make it through all the elements,”

“I made it through 22. I think that’s pretty good,” you breathed.

“But you didn’t get through all 118, which just means that we’ll just have to go again,”

You turned to look at Peter.

“Are you serious?” You asked.

“Dead serious,” Peter smiled, brining his hand down to lightly swirl around your clit.

“Pick up where you left off, darling,”



You woke up next to Peter, wearing only his t shirt and your underwear. Peter had thrown on his boxers the night before after you had recited much more than just the Periodic Table (*cough* you recited his name over and over and over because damn).

Peter’s alarm was blaring and you leaned over to hit snooze.

“Pete,” you said, shaking him lightly.

“Noooo, I don’t want to get up,” he mumbled into his pillow, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer.

“Peter, we’ll be late for the midterm,”

“I mean I guess we did kinda study really hard,”

You laughed, “c’mon Parker, we’re gonna be late,”

You placed a kiss on Peter’s forehead, and then rolled out of bed.


You ended up walking out of Peter’s house in the same pants as the day before topped with one of Peter’s sweaters. You actually felt very prepared for the exam. Usually before exams you would spend hours on end studying but by the next morning you would forget everything. Last night was something you definitely would not forget.


At lunch you came to sit down with Peter and Ned.

“Hey, Y/N,” Ned said.

“Hi, Y/N,” Peter smiled.

You smiled at Peter, and sat down across from him.

“Okay, what’s going on here?” Ned asked.

“OH MY GOD SOMETHING HAPPENED ON YOUR STUDY DATE!” Ned exclaimed, not letting you answer his initial question.

“I mean, we studied,” you said.

“Yeah, Y/N, spent a long time reciting the periodic table to me,”

You blushed when Peter said that, a small smile creeping up on your face.



You and Peter didn’t say anything, only exchanged a small glance.

“Please tell me what happened guys,”

“Can’t,” you said.

“Are you serious?” Ned asked.

“Dead serious,” Peter said, smiling at you.

Tag List: Tag List: @thenerdherd1294, @notgonnaliekindagayasffff, @miraisnotavailable, @the-girl-with-no-plan, @raindancer2004, @tomhollandgavemecooties, @themusicorthemisery

Stolen Clothes - Peter Parker

Prompt: Reader is afraid of thunder/lightning and there is a freak thunderstorm, and her best friend, Peter Parker, has to comfort her.

Words: 2,499

Warnings: None- fluff mainly.

Bolts of bright light cracked across the dark sky. The constant breakouts of lightning flashes through your thick curtains. Booming of ground shaking thunder shook your dead apartment unevenly. 

You were curled up in your bed eye glued on the TV screen out of fear. The storm knocked out the satellite being the reason you were staring at a frozen screen for the last half an hour. You hid your body from the horrid weather under a mound of warm blankets fresh out of the dryer.

Fuzzy socks covered your feet and a steaming cup of hot chocolate rested untouched on your nightstand. Paralyzed with fear you didn’t dare move a muscle. Even though you hated thunder storms you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the rain pounding against your window. It was like the scene of a car crash, the best thing was to avoid the mess but it was almost impossible to think about anything else.

A loud crash hit your window earning a screeching yelp from yourself. The stray branch from a tree outside blew in the wind knocking the glass continuously. You parents fell asleep in pure bliss to the tempest leaving you to wallow in your lonesome. 

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Dating Tom! Peter Parker would include...

Originally posted by marveling-over-imagines

  • Cute texts
  • Contests on who can make the most disgusting sandwich and actually eat it. Peter always winning.
  • Movie nights that nearly always end in a heated make out session or falling asleep together. 
  • Peter being scared to tell you he’s spider man. 

“Why have you been acting so weird lately, Parker?” You crossed your arms over your chest, annoyed. 

“Me? Acting weird? Whaaat?” Peter tried to play it cool, but the crack in his voice gave him away.

“Spill it Peter, now.” You demanded. 

Peter sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Please…just don’t freak out.”

  • You laughing when he finally tells you.
  • Nearly fainting when you find out he’s not kidding.
  • Grabbing pizza or hot dogs from vendors after school. Every. Damn. Day.
  • Star Wars marathons. 
  • “I love you.”
  • “I love you more.”
  • “Soooo not possible.”
  • Peter climbing through your window in the middle of the night after missions.

You sighed, hearing the familiar ‘click’ of your window being shut. You leaned over, clicking on your lamp. “Again?” you frowned at your damaged boyfriend.

“Sorry.” Peter laughed lowly, peeling off his suit. You climb out of bed and go to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth.  As you wiped the crusted blood from Peter’s shoulder, he grinned at you. 

“What?” You questioned. 

“Know what would make this moment even more romantic?” Peter whispered huskily. You hummed. “A. Big. Sloppy. Wet. Kiss.”

“You dork!”

  • Random singing contests
  • stupid fights over stupid shit
  • those fights ending in hot make up sex
  • overall Peter being the best boyfriend
|| the perfect mistake ||

y'all wanted fuckboi!peter smut and I’m here to deliver ೕ(•̀ᴗ•́)

this can be seen as a sequel to || absolutely || and || needy ||. Peter and the reader are around 18-19 years old and they’re in college ♡

**do not plagiarize/repost this story**

warnings: smut


There was something dangerously delicious about having his girlfriend of two years over at his place.

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anonymous asked:

consider: peter quill bringing slap on t-patches (bc frankly earth is probably like way far behind on that shit) and peter parker is like wAIT you don't have to stab yourself to get t?????? peter quill is confused about why earth still uses needles (also for your consideration: a few months after infinity war, peter finds a box outside his room. he opens it to find slap on t patches, and there's a little note inside that reads "thought you might wants these -starlord" and peter nearly cries)

when peter quill first tells peter about the patches peter is really skeptical, because all it sounds like is an easier version of testosterone gel. but quill shows peter a patch that he has on his abdomen, it’s thick and appears to be merging with his skin.

“you keep it on for a week, and as the week progresses the patch dissolves into your skin.” quill pulls down his shirt and smiles smugly at peter.

“is that safe?” peter says, wrinkling his nose. but he’s intrigued by the alien medicine.

“yeah, totally, they’re issued out by the medical branch of the nova corps. and in order to get passed from that it has to be approved as safe and friendly to all species of the galaxy.”

after that they end their small talk and go back to the group of avengers to try and figure out how to handle the infinity war. peter forgets about the patches, there are more important things at hand.

but months later once the devastation of the war has come and gone, and so have the guardians, peter finds himself sitting in his bedroom panicking because he forgot to refill his testosterone prescription. and he knows it isn’t That big of a deal, he can get it refilled the next day and only be a day late on his injection, but he just wants it now. he had a lousy day with intense dysphoria, and he wants his dose now.

he sighs and flops onto his bed, causing the bunk bed frame to shake. something wobbles and then falls off the top bunk. hundreds of patches fall and scatter over his floor.

“what the…..” peter mumbles. he sorts through the patches now littering the floor, and recognizes them as the testosterone patches that quill had been telling him about. his eyes widen in disbelief, and he notices a note hanging out of the (now empty) box of patches

thought you might like to have these, for the times when you don’t feel like stabbing yourself with a big ass needle. will be back in 6 months with more.
— Star Lord

peter hesitantly picks up one of the patches. they’re packaged similar to bandaids, a thick layer of plastic waiting to be peeled back. peter unpackages it and smooths it over his abdomen like he saw it on quill, and gasps as the patch quickly binds to his skin with a tickling sensation

“nice,” peter mumbles to himself. he looks out of his window at the stars and smiles.

In the Nick of Time (Peter Parker x Reader Angst)

Request: anonymous asked: can you do an angsty fic that maybe ENDS with fluff but it’s peter x mj (i’d prefer for it to be mj but you could do reader, and she knows he’s spider-man) and mj gets kidnapped and tortured reallllyy bad (almost dies) and peter almost doesn’t make it in time to save her? (i would prefer for it to end with a lil fluff but you can run with it haha)

Word Count: 2,863 (omg)

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, some torture, blood

A/N: thank you dear anon who requested this, however i’m sorry that it’s not a peter x mj but this is so because I wanted to keep the prompt as accurate as possible and i wanted to stay true to homecoming’s mj and how she ‘doesn’t need to be rescued’ but wow so this turned out longer than expected! I also kept the reader gender neutral so 👍🏼 ayyyyyy. anyway i’m quite proud of how this turned out, even if i haven’t proofread at all (sorry if you see grammar shit)

this is my first angsty fic too, so please feedback is ALWAYS appreciated! ❤️

The branches overflowing with soft leaves bent softly in the cool breeze shaded you as you focused on the book in your lap. The words on the page transported you away from the serene afternoon park setting. So much so that you almost didn’t hear Peter get up from next to you.

“I’m gonna go grab some coffee,” he pointed to the stand that sat yards away. “You want?”

You looked up from your escape. “Uh, yes please!” you replied. How could you possibly pass up an opportunity for free coffee.

“Your usual?”

“You know it,” your head dropped back down to the book as Peter strolled off, and you escaped this reality once again.

As you turned the pages, the plot thickened and a twist was coming. Your eyes flew across the pages faster and faster, you yearning to find out what would happen next. You grabbed the corner of the page to reveal—

Something clamped over your mouth. You stiffened, eyes shot wide with alarm, jarred back to reality. Dropping your book, your hands clawed at an arm. You tasted faint sweetness from the wet cloth over your mouth as your screams caught in your throat. Your legs thrashed this way and that as you struggled to wriggle from the sturdy grasp. The world started to darken and your eyelids grew lead heavy. You felt oddly tired, and you realized the wet on the cloth was probably some kind of sedative. Panicking, you searched for Peter through your faded vision. You tried to turn towards the kiosk to see if he was still there. Could he see what was going on? Did he know what was happening? Why wasn’t anyone doing anything? Surely someone could see this. Why was nobody helping? Why now? Why me of all— The questions stopped racing through your head as the world faded to black.

Peter was rocking back and forth on his feet waiting for the coffee, when he felt the hairs on his arm stand up. An odd feeling washed over him. Brows furrowed, he swiveled to look back to the tree you had been reading under. His stomach dropped at the sight of a book laying open and the jacket that had been draped over your legs. Peter saw a flash of your red converse disappear behind an battered off-white van hastily parked on the street near the tree. NO! he thought. He ignored the barista calling his name, and instead took off for the van.

“(Y/N)!” Peter screamed. He leapt over a park bench, hardly slowing down. The van peeled away, Peter in hot pursuit. He realized, however, that he couldn’t very well just go chasing after in his current state. Cursing, he briskly fired a tracker at the van, then sprinted towards his apartment.

How could I let this happen? he thought. He was always careful not to reveal his identity when he was out fighting crime. And he was positive that no one had seen you and Spiderman together. Maybe it was random? Maybe it wasn’t because you knew he was Spiderman. But he still felt the guilt gnawing away at his heaving chest.

As soon as Peter got to his room, he threw his suit on and checked the tracker. The van was crossing Brooklyn bridge, headed for Manhattan. He leapt out his bedroom window and swung, hoping he could catch up to it before it stopped. He tried to push the fact that his lungs were burning and his breath felt like fire in his throat out of his mind. He tried to ignore any fears and ‘what if’s that nagged in the back of his head. He only focused on one thing: that he would save you.

Your eyelids felt as heavy as your bag the day before finals. As you struggle to lift them, you felt your wrists squeezed between arm rests and tightly wrapped duct tape. From the way your feet were tingling and slightly numb, you guessed the same had been done to them too. You panicked when you realized you couldn’t open your mouth, and for a second forgot how to breathe. Remembering you had a nose, you started to inhale deeply but quietly, trying to slow your rapid heartbeat.

As you tilted your head up, you glanced around. You were in some abandoned warehouse. How typical. Yellow-tinged windows lined the top of all the brick walls, their hue deepened by the sunset-colored sky. Metal platforms stretched overhead, reaching along and across the interior. On the floor a few feet away from you was a table of instruments.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Terror clinched your chest. Questions began racing through your head once more.

Shit shit shit shit. This can’t be about Peter right? I haven’t told anyone! And there’s no way we’ve been seen together when he’s Spiderman… right? It’s still light out so I haven’t been out long, I think. But still, how long has it been? Does Peter know? Is he coming? Is anyone coming? Oh God, what are they gonna do?! Who are ‘they’?!

As if to answer your question, a truck swerved in through the open gate and screeched to a halt. Five men got out, all wearing masks and shabby all-black clothing. Two walked over to the gate and began to close it. One walked past you, you turned back to see him post guard by a back door. The other two men strolled to the table, and you stiffened in the chair. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

Your knuckles became white as you clutched the arm rests. You slowly inhaled, careful not to make it obvious, as you repeated in your mind: Don’t. Give. Up. Peter.

The shorter of the two men by the table approached you slowly. He glared down at you, smirking slightly, “You’re probably wondering why you’re here, aren’t ya?” You didn’t dare move. “Well,” he sighed, “a little birdie told a little bird who told me that you’ve been seen with that Spider hero dude.” He reached down and ripped the tape off your mouth. Well looks like I won’t need to wax that, you thought as the stinging brought tears to your eyes.

But I fuckin’ knew it! you thought. Of course it’s about Peter, er, Spiderman. You looked at the ground, “Haven’t a lot of people?”

The man chuckled through his mask, “Ah yes, yes. You’re not wrong.” He backed up to the table and picked up a small metal knife. Your breath hitched. “However,” he strolled forward, “you have been seen with him on multiple accounts, young miss.” He squat down in front of you, “So, one can only assume you two’s be knowin’ each other.” The light caught the metal as he spun it between his pointer and thumb.

“Now,” he continued, “I hate to ruin your day any further—it did look like you were enjoying it quite a bit earlier—” Your eyes blazed with anger. “So why don’t you just tell me the name of this fellow, and we’ll be on our merry way?”

Part of you wanted to just make up a name. You knew they weren’t leaving without a name that you weren’t intending to give. But what if someone actually had that name? You’d have just put a target on their back. Stall, (Y/N), just stall. Peter’s coming. I’m sure of it.

“Can I ask why?” you carefully asked.

“Why?” the man repeated.

“Y-y-yeah… Why?” you restated. “I mean why do you want to know his name? You know? Like why not just catch him when he’s out and about doing his, uh, his Spidey stuff?”

“Ahhhh, good point, little miss,” you cringed at his reply. “See, this Spider guy, he messed with some people whom I consider good people, good friends in fact. Well this Spider guy completely ruined their business, even got a few of ‘em sent downtown. Which, well, they weren’t too happy with that, now were they? So—” he shrugged, “—they tell me how they got in there, and how they want this Spider guy fixed up. Eye for an eye kinda thing, ya know? So me being a good friend and all, I say ‘yeah’.

“So you’re gonna ruin his business then send him to jail?”

“No, nonono. More like, hurt him by hurting those he cares about, then send him six-feet under, that kinda thing.”

Breathe you told yourself as dread took ahold of your body. “That doesn’t sound like a very fair ‘eye for an eye’ kinda thing…”

“Quit stallin’, little miss, just give me the name.”

“But what if I don’t know his name?” you challenged, trying to keep your voice steady and calm.

“‘Scuse me?”

For the millionth time that day, your heart dropped. “I mean, like, yeah I’ve met Spiderman a few times, but, I… I don’t know his name. Like behind the mask. That guy. The guy behind the mask’s name. I don’t know it,” you stammered as smoothly as possible. Good going, idiot. There’s no way that sounded convincing.

The man in front of you slowly nodded his head. “I see…” he responded. He stood up. “Well, young miss, that’s quite alright. Not your fault.” The calm tone in his voice caused you to not be so. “But seeing as he’s quite familiar with you…” Quick as lightning, his hand shoved the knife in the crook of your elbow. You yelped, gasping as the sharp pain throbbed up your right bicep. Shaking, you looked down, trying to register the silver jutting out parallel to your forearm. Your assailant bent down until he was eye level with you. Without moving your head, your eyes glared up at him, furious and fearful. “A little birdie also told me he has super-hearing. So we’ll just draw him here with your screams, how’s about that, little miss?”

Peter was in Harlem when he heard the first scream. Even from miles away, he was able to pick it up, and there was no missing it. When he heard it, he faltered, forgetting for a moment to shoot a web. He fell onto a rooftop, but didn’t even register that pain. The only pain he felt was the guilt and the panic eating away at his chest. He knew it was his fault. The pain he heard was because of him. And it didn’t stop there.

The screams continued as Peter raced with a new fervor. Every time he heard it, he grit his teeth to keep from crying out himself. He flew through Harlem, over the river, through Bronx. Even though he was growing closer and closer to that blinking red dot, the outcries ate away at him more and more.

As you drew in a sharp, shallow breath, you could feel the blood gurgling deep in your throat. With every inhale, the blade in your stomach seemed to dig deeper and deeper. Your heart was racing so fast, like never before. You felt blood dripping down your shin, gluing your shirt to your abdomen, seeping down your arm. Your hair was matted all over your face. You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream, to release your anguish somehow; but you couldn’t do anything but focus on the pain.

You could barely keep your eyes open. All you wanted to do was to sleep. Maybe you could just sleep the pain away. The conscious part of you told you not to; that that would be the end. But most of you didn’t even care. You just wanted sleep.

Just as your eyes closed, you heard a crash that sounded worlds away. You winced as gunshots echoed throughout the warehouse. A blurry figure approached you.

“(Y/N),” it murmured. You forced your eyes open, of which they stayed for only a second, but that was all you needed.

“Peter,” you breathed.

“I’m so sorry,” he sniffed. The bounds were ripped off your wrists and ankles, and Peter’s arms slid under your body. You whimpered, as the slightest movement sent waves of agony throbbing through your entire body. Timidly, he removed his arms and you felt his gloved hands cradling your lolling head.

“I’m so so so sorry, (Y/N),” he repeated. “Mr. Stark is coming, I called him a while ago, so he should be here soon. God, I am so sorry—” his voice cracked as he tried to choke back a sob. Warm tears were rolling down his cheeks and he was biting his lip so hard. All he could think was this was his fault. You were dying because of him.

“No,” you whispered. “No no no… Peter it’s… it’s not your fault…” you drifted off closing your eyes.

“No nonononononono, hey, hey, stay with me, (Y/N). Please, please. Don’t close your eyes just yet, lo—look at me. Hey hey hey! Yeah that’s it just look at me—”

“Shhh,” you breathed. Your eyes fluttered, “I just…” you sighed, “I just wanna sleep, Peter—”

“NO!” Peter cried, desperate. “No, no, you can’t. Not yet, ok?” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. It’s warmth spread down to your cheeks, and you let out a sigh. He stroked your right cheek with his thumb. “Just… just uh… just wait for Mr. Stark to get here, ok?”

“Tell him to hurry up,” you mumbled. The only thing you could feel was the jabbing in your stomach and Peter’s hands on your cheeks, and it was getting increasingly harder to even occasionally blink, much less keep your eyes fully open.

“He—He’s here! He’s here, (Y/N)! Just a little longer, ok? Please—hey hey! Mr. Stark!” Peter’s voice rose pitches higher as a low-tuned roaring drew closer.

You couldn’t stand it anymore. You heard the word Stark and you relaxed. Your head went completely limp in Peter’s hands as you drifted off into the sleep you had so craved.

Shockingly bright light slowly seeped in your sight as you blinked awake. You gradually took in the view of the hospital room, and finally noticed the mound of soft brown curls laying next to your right hand. A soft chuckle escaped your mouth, immediately followed by a sharp jab just below your ribs. You winced, taking note to breathe much more carefully. You gingerly brought your fingers up and wove them through the fluffy mass. Slowly, Peter shifted his head to look up at you, confused at first, but then delightedly surprised. He shot up, leaning forward in his chair.

“H—Hey, hi!” he grinned. “How you feeling?”

Your cheeks lifted slightly as you felt a soft smile plaster itself on your face. Seeing him this happy was one of the greatest things to wake up to. Even if you could see the tinge of worry behind those beautiful coffee-colored eyes.

“I’m ok,” you sighed. “Hurts to breathe, to move, to pretty much exist right now, but uh… yeah. I’m ok.”

Peter’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I—” he began.

“No, no, Peter,” you cut him off. “Don’t start with the ‘I’m sorry’s again please? You don’t have to be sorry cuz it wasn’t your fault, alright?” You hissed, voice hoarse, “You’re the one who came for me, who wanted to help me.”

Peter wrung his hands together, “But I—”

You shakily reached down to grab his hands; you could still feel the knife right in the bend of your elbow. “Peter, please. If not for yourself then do this for me,” you laced your fingers through his, eyes pleading to his own. “Don’t kick yourself for this, ok? I will heal, I’ll be fine. We’ll be more careful when you’re out there, make sure no one sees us together, but—”

“See?! It was my fault!” Peter cried. His hands went limp against your own. “This… we can’t…”

“Stop, Peter. I already know where you’re going with this. You’re not gonna bail on me just to ‘protect me’ and crap, alright? Sure, maybe I can’t be seen hanging out with Spiderman as often, but that sure as hell doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop hanging out with my best friend!”

Peter sighed a deep sigh, “I’m still sorry, though. I feel like I need to do something but I dunno what I can do.”

You gazed at him for a moment, appreciating his worried brows and concerned eyes. Mustering as much strength and effort as you could, you scoot yourself to the left, huffing for a moment as you felt all the pain return back and worse than ever. You nodded your head to the space next to you, “You can just sit here and chill with me.”

Peter slid onto the bed, not once letting go of your hand. You let your head rest on his shoulder, and he let his rest on your head. You both lay there, breathing even, hearts calm, hands intertwined, feeling comfortable and safe with your best friend firmly next to you.

The nurse who came into your room for a routine check in was greeted with the sight of two teenagers fast asleep, faint but tired smiles adorning both faces.

|| starboy, stargirl || [[smut]]

{summary: “i just want to see you shine, ‘cause i know you are my stargirl.”}

anonymous asked: what is a starboy?

sweet anon, you are going to find out in this fully written imagine [♥] for added effect, listen to the weeknd’s ‘stargirl interlude’.

side note: peter and the reader are 20 years old in this imagine.

warnings: smut

Please don’t repost/plagiarize this story

forever tags: @ghostedwolf


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I know you're not asleep- Peter Parker X Reader

Prompt: Peter comes by after a late night mission and decides to sleep over, but you come to find he takes up the entire bed and refuses to move. Lots of fluff and witty banter.

Word count: 1468

Warnings: none, just extreme fluff (:

A/N: I don’t write Peter imagines very often, but I was in a Peter mood after seeing Spider-Man: Homecoming, so here you go . Another Bucky Imagine is coming up soon, so if Peter isn’t your cup of tea, stay tuned for an upcoming Bucky Imagine. (BTW if anyone has any requests please send them in!)

It was late on a Friday night, and as per usual you were home alone binging netflix until your eyes could no longer stay open. You had tried to invite your boyfriend over, but he had insisted that he was going to be busy with his “Stark Internship”, which you knew was just him going around late at night fighting crime and whatnot. He had told you about his double life as Spider-Man, but he insisted that he call it his Internship just in case somebody was eavesdropping.

At about twelve thirty your eyes began to droop and your mouth dropped open in a long yawn. You clicked off the tv and headed down the hallway to your bedroom, pulling out your phone to check if Peter had texted you. He always promised to text you when he was done for the night, just so you knew he was safe. He hadn’t said anything so far, so you assumed he was still out and about, he was known to stay out as late as four A.M. You nudged open your bedroom door, your attention stuck on the phone in your hand. Because your attention was divided between your phone and groping the wall for the lightswitch in the dark, you didn’t notice the red and blue shape laying flat on his stomach on your bed. You finally found the switch and flicked it on, the room now illuminated in soft light. And with the light on, you could now see the figure on your bed out of the corner of your eye. You gasped and stepped back, slow to realize it was only Peter.

“Goddammit Peter, you scared me,” you breathed, your heart still hammering hard against your ribs, the beating pounding through your ears. He tried to say something, but his words were lost to the pillow his face was smushed into. You noticed that he had pulled down his suit to his waist, leaving his back and upper torso exposed. His dark hair was standing up in thick tufts, indicating that he had hastily pulled off his mask. His exposed back was toned and his muscles rippled as he prepared to turn over and face you. You could only stare at the boy in your bed as he sat up to face you.

“Sorry, I was going to text you but then… I forgot,” he explained. You nodded as he once again made himself comfortable, spreading himself flat on his back over the entirety of the bed.

“Well I should get ready for bed and you should go home to May. You know she really worries about you,” You commanded, waltzing over to your closet to find your pajamas.

“Or you know, I could spend the night here, with you,” he offered, his voice high with eager expectation. You turned to face him, a wrinkled pair of pajamas held tightly in your hands.

“And what would May say?” you wondered, raising your eyebrows at him playfully.

“Well, she would be expecting me to be spending the night at Ned’s house…. Since that was what I told her I would be doing,” He admitted, his voice getting lower as he admitted that he lied to his aunt.

“Naughty, naughty,” you teased as you disappeared into the bathroom to change into the loose fitting pajamas. You trusted Peter and all, but you just weren’t to that point in your relationship yet where you felt comfortable getting dressed in front of him. In fact, this would only be the second time he has spent the night out of the six months of your relationship. You changed into the t-shirt and shorts, only realizing now that you had grabbed one of Peter’s old school shirts, the navy blue color standing starkly against the red shorts you had grabbed. You looked for another shirt amongst the piles on your bathroom floor. Seeing as Peter didn’t know you stole this from him a few weeks back you didn’t want him to make a big deal out of it. You couldn’t find another shirt on the floor of your bathroom so you just brushed your teeth and left, hoping for the best. You emerged from the bathroom to find Peter on his back once again, but now he had traded his suit for a pair of grey sweatpants, but he was still lacking a shirt. You noticed his backpack was sprawled open on the floor next to your bed, his suit thrown on top, mask sitting not far away on your desk. You turned off the light and headed for the comfort of your bed. You sat down on the comforter, feeling something hard under your arm, you felt along the sheets, tracing the hard object to Peter’s back. You were sitting on his arm.

“Peter!” you hissed in the dark, nudging his bare back gently. He didn’t wake or even make a noise to acknowledge that you were there.
“Peter!” you tried again, but still no response. You turned on the light on your nightstand, now seeing that Peter had splayed his body over the entire bed, leaving you basically no room.

“Peter Parker I know you are not asleep, now move over dammit!” You whisper-hissed again. You saw his lips turn up into a small smile, but he was trying to hide it. You poked him in the side, hoping he would move. Instead he just rolled over dramatically on top of you, his torso and head draped over your lap and stomach. You giggled but then regained your composure once more to yell at him. His stomach was pressed firm and warm against your legs and lap, his head rested on your stomach. You scooted back against the headboard, hoping to gain some leverage, this boy was heavier than he looked. You tried poking his cheek, which once again earned you a smile that he tried hard to suppress.

“Peter, you lazy bum, move,” you commanded, this time shoving him off of you, but his limp frame came to life, latching his arms around your waist to secure himself tightly onto you. He spoke, but his voice was muffled by your shirt.

“What was that Peter?” you asked, as he continued speaking into your shirt.

“I don’t want to move, I want to stay right here, you’re so warm and comfy,” he stated matter of factly. You nodded, running your fingers through his thick tousled hair. And you didn’t want him to move at this moment. You didn’t mind his soft breath fanning over your torso, or his fingers brushing over the small of your back as he adjusted his grip on your waist, this was something you could enjoy for a while. Another yawn escaped your mouth and your body became heavy, Peter’s warmth only adding to your fatigue.

“Well, you’re going to have to move sometime, because I need to sleep,” you commented, running your fingers down the length of this bare back, each muscle a soft ridge under your fingertips. He only looked up at you, his brown eyes big and sleepy. You smiled down at him, he smiled back. You were both content.

“No but really Peter, you should move, I’m falling asleep up here,” you commented, a yawn taking over the last part of your sentence. Peter peeled himself off of you, scooting over to one side of the bed, making room for you. He yawned and laid back, pulling the covers closer to himself. He looked over at you, still sitting up against the headboard, and patted the space next to him. You happily obliged and laid back, moving closer to him so that you were nose to nose. His arms slipped around your waist, bringing you even closer.

“Hello there,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. You scrunched up your nose, causing him to smile once again. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, then his jaw, then finally his lips. Your hands once again came up to tangle in his hair. His hands roamed over your hip and lower back. He broke the kiss to once again pull you closer to him, you turned around so your back was to him. You could feel the warmth of his chest pressing into your back, and his soft rhythmic breaths on your neck. You could also feel the steady beating of his heart as he began to fall asleep, the constant beating lulling you ever closer to sleep.

“Goodnight Peter,” you whispered, laying your hand over Peter’s that was resting on your stomach.

“Goodnight [Y/n],” Peter whispered back, his arms tightening around you, offering even more comfort. A few minutes passed, you were pretty much asleep when Peter’s voice cut through the silence.

“Is that my shirt?”





anonymous asked:

I don't know if you're still taking prompts, but perhaps Yondu (in an AU where he survives, of course) meeting Grandpa Quill? I saw an interview from the first movie where James Gunn implies that Grandpa Quill actually saw Peter being abducted and has been waiting all this time for him to come back, and it made me wonder how he'd react to the return of not just his grandson, but also his abductor.

Even with his relatively limited understanding of Terran culture, Yondu could tell that the farm had seen better days. He and Peter had landed the Milano in the woods, and now they walked through long grass towards the small white dwelling with the peeling paint.

Peter had a stunned, wide-eyed look, gazing around at the overgrown fields and the disintegrating Terran machinery. There were some large herbivores in one of the fields – Yondu’s careful look didn’t reveal claws or long teeth, so he tentatively classified them as harmless – and small feathered bipeds that scattered from their path as they approached the white hut.

“The lady in town said Grandpa still lives out here,” Peter said softly. “Listen, you didn’t have to come. You could go back to the Quadrant in orbit –”

“Ain’t the way I want to handle this,” Yondu said. “You was right, when you said what you said back on the Eclector, all them years back –”

“Excuse me?” Peter theatrically cupped his hand around his ear. “Did you just say I was right? Sorry, I gotta make a note of this on my calendar –”

Yondu whistled. The arrow zipped out of its holster to hover in front of the brat’s face.

“Hey!” Peter yelped. He grabbed the arrow, between the glowing hot patches behind the head and farther back on the shaft, and pushed it back in Yondu’s direction, utterly unswayed by the implied threat. “Nobody on Earth has one of these, I mean, were you not listening at all to anything that Fury guy told us?”

Yondu snorted and whistled the arrow back to its holster. “Point is, I did take you away from your family on this planet. Your momma’s daddy, he’s got every right to demand compensation from me. From us, the Ravagers. It’s only right I negotiate that with him.”

And besides, what he didn’t want to say was that he liked seeing where Peter had come from. He’d seen it once before, but it didn’t mean anything to him then – not back then, when Peter Quill was just a name on a list.

“You know,” Peter said, with a wary sidelong glance at the arrow as Yondu’s coat fell to cover it again, “I still think you’re looking at this the wrong way. My grandpa’s not gonna want – er – payment for you taking me off Earth as a kid. He’s not gonna be real happy to see you.”

“Ain’t a whole lot of people greet Ravagers with open arms.”

“Yeah … well … look, just stay behind me, okay?” Peter said over his shoulder, mounting the creaking porch steps. “Humans don’t usually – we aren’t used to people with blue skin around here, okay? I don’t want to cause any –”

He stopped talking because the flimsy-looking door had popped open a few inches and what was unmistakably the muzzle of some kind of Terran weapon stuck out. And this wasn’t some cheap-ass toy of a weapon, based on the size of the hole in the muzzle. If this was a projectile weapon, like most of the Terran weapons Yondu’d had a chance to examine so far, that was one hell of a large projectile, definitely enough to make a large hole in some trusting idjit’s rib cage.

Which was why he grabbed Peter’s arm and yanked him out of the way, as the muzzle swung to point at Yondu’s chest.

“Hey!” Peter squawked. “Hey! Nobody’s gettin’ shot, okay? Gramps – Gramps, it’s me.”

“Me who?” came a harsh voice from inside. Yondu’s implant picked up the Terran language and made it sound vaguely like the native language on Rorandar, a farm planet on the outskirts of the Kree Empire, for some damn reason.

“Me, Peter,” said Peter. “Um, Peter Quill? Meredith’s son?”

A long silence; then the door cracked open a little further, and a sharp blue eye peeked out. “And sayin’ that’s who you are, which I’m not sayin’ yet, who or what in the hell is that?”

“This is my, uh.” Peter glanced at Yondu, and Yondu could see him go through a whole lot of mental contortions before he said, with hardly a trace of embarrassment (but very definitely not looking at Yondu as he said it), “This is my dad. From space. Just like Mom always said. Can we come in, please?”

Further silence, further staring from that one eye, and then the door opened all the way and the shrunken, elderly Terran lowered his weapon and pushed the door open. He stared at them for a long time, and then he said, “C'mon in. There’s coffee.”

Tell-A-Phone (Peter Parker x reader)

HeroesOfOlympus: Heyyy y'all! I’m back again after my hiatus. No one really reads this so whatever. Anyway, @rikapika14 this is dedicated to you! Thanks for encouraging me to post this horrible fanfic that will probably get 0 notes. 

Description: Tony is up to his schemes again and is trying to get you and Peter together. He asks both of you to try out a new invention he made which supposedly can detect people’s feelings. You and Peter end up happy and kiss. I really need different endings.

Reader Gender: Female

Characters/Ships: Peter Parker x reader, Tony Stark, ‘tell-a-phone’/Krats

Rating: PG

Warnings: Cringey writing, some grammar mistakes since I don’t really read over my fanfic and yeah?

“Y/N! Peter!” Tony shouted out to the two teenagers who were currently hunched over their school work at the newly refurbished living room. The two were sitting on opposite sides of the coffee table, peeking up from their work from time to time to steal a glance at the other teenager.

Soft and large pillows scattered the floor, two especially large and fluffy ones currently being sat on by the two young geniuses. With their eyebrows furrowed and their foreheads creased, they stared at their work with absolute concentration, Tony’s words falling on death ears.

Sighing, Tony held up his glass of wine to his lips, thinking of a way to get the two young superheroes’ attention. Rolling his eyes, Tony strolled over to the two young superheroes absorbed in their homework. “I burned both of your suits!” He blurted out, the two teenagers’ heads snapping up to look at Tony.

“You did what?” They both exclaimed at the same time, shooting out of their comfortable seats and approaching the playboy.

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Peter is of course talking about The Dreamboys and why he loved being a Dreamboy.

Now, if someone asked me what’s the point of being in a rock/punk band I think I would say to make music, but if Older Peter is listing Young Peter’s reasons to be in a band priorities in order – and I really sincerely hope he is – well, okay, singing DOES get a mention at the very end, but I love that number one was just plain and simple showing off.

Mostly because I’m sure that’s the truth!

biomechatronic  asked:

I'm in the mood for some more jupeter cuddles- maybe after they haven't seen each other in a long time?

You should know that I started writing this while killing time before picking my little sister up from the airport.

Between me being nocturnal and living a lot closer to the airport than the rest of my family, I’m pretty frequently the designated driver when family members find themselves having to take late night flights. 

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Black Sheep (Final/Part 9)

Originally posted by tomshollandss

Summary: Peter beat Vulture, but his win doesn’t overcome his loss. Or so he thinks.

A/N: Final part! Thank you all so much for reading this series

Pairing: Peter x reader     ///     Part 1 {x} 2 {x} 3 {x} 4 {x} 5 {x} 6 {x} 7 {x} 8 {x}

Warnings: SPOILERS, omg cute fluff

As the overwhelming pain was lifted from your chest, you felt light as a ragdoll. Murmurs were heard around your body, and you couldn’t comprehend anything that was being said or done. It was almost like being in a coma, being aware but unaware simultaneously. You were alive, but you also felt like you’d been buried six feet underground.

A cold gust knocked clean air into your lungs, and you began coughing up clouds of cement and dirt, slowly opening your eyes. You could see a red and gold suit, the night sky and the beautiful moon. You felt yourself drifting in and out of consciousness, a droopy smile on your face.

Through your limp eyelids, you saw the darkness of night turned into a bright white light, smelt an overwhelming sterile room and heard lots of bickering.

“Didn’t Peter say she was a criminal?”

“I was listening to his ear piece, she fought for him!”

“Tony, I can’t believe you, the only person here, is really defending a murderer!”

“Listen, I might not agree with Peter on anything, but I believe him. On this one, at least.”

And then you were out.

Peter kneeled in the sand on the beach, watching the fire around him burn. He saw Adrian passed out in his wings. He saw the plane burning and he felt the cool tide on his feet from the river. Peter peeled off his mask and stared at the lenses. 

As he looked down, he saw his reflection, bloodied and worn. He saw the pain etched into his forehead, a defining crease on his cheeks. He felt your hand on his cheek, saw the warmth come from your dying smile. The moonlight hit your cheekbones so perfectly, you seemed like an angel in moon dust.

Then, he wept.

For you, for being bullied and ignored. For being a nobody, but when you finally became a somebody, it wasn’t good enough to heal your wounds. Not even an offer could give any comfort. It was too late.

Spider-Man was too late.

Peter began pounding his fists into the sand, sobbing into his mask. He thought of the times Flash would pick on you at your locker, during lunch, even when you weren’t around he still gave you crap.

Slowly getting off the sand, he put on the mask and started his long walk back home.

Peter didn’t even care about the fact he wore his Spider-Man suit home, to the front door. He pounded on the door and Aunt May opened. She was shocked to see the city hero at her door, but when she heard the heavy sobs she knew it was her boy. She pushed him inside, closed the door, tore his mask and held Peter close to her heart.

He poured everything to her. How it started, the murder, Vulture, bullying, and death. Ned ended up coming by, shocked he was even in the outfit. Peter couldn’t repeat the story, your pained coughs echoed in his head. When he closed the door to his room, he could hear your yelling, your defense for him.

He sulked to his bed, pulled the sheets over his body and cried himself to sleep in his Spider-Man outfit.

Peter’s next week was full of going to school, mourning and coming home straight away. He blocked out Ned and MJ, he even said goodbye to Liz like it was no big deal. In his mind, Oregon wasn’t as far as death. 

One Friday afternoon, Peter got a text, telling him to meet Happy in the male bathroom in the school. When he got there, Happy thanked Peter for everything he had done. And how Tony needed to see him now. 

The ride to the new Avenger’s headquarters was completely silent, and for once in his life, Happy wanted to hear Peter’s conversation. How he spoke about chemistry and Ned. One time, Peter taught Happy the handshake him and Ned had over the phone. He would never admit it though, but Happy and Tony do the same handshake when they’re alone.

When Peter and Happy got inside, Tony met Peter at the door, throwing his arm around him. He gave his thanks, showed him a new Spider-Man suit, and Peter thought it was gorgeous. How could he not?

But, shiny objects couldn’t replace you. 

With the Avengers offer, Peter denied the idea, too torn up about you to do anything drastic. He told Tony he needed time. As he turned to go back to the car, the door next to the new suit opened.

“How much time is enough, Peter?”

Peter turned around, tears flooding his eyes.


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