i know “slut!” took everyone off guard because we thought it was going to be blank space on steroids, but there’s something beautiful and quietly brave about naming a song after the word she was branded as by the public and then have it be a tender and fragile little song about falling in love instead

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the eras✨ #TaylorSwift

this gave me butterflies

A face full of kisses

Since moving out, Peter has made it a point to go see his aunt at least once a week.

The idea of her being lonely wasn’t the reason why Peter insisted on a weekly visit or two as well as a phone call a day even if it was just to check-in. The idea itself was almost laughable. 

May was by no means a lonely woman, in fact, she was a social butterfly, she loved meeting new people and new people loved meeting her. It seems like no matter where she went, May made a friend. 

Peter did it because May was the only family he had left. He had spent a lot of time pushing her away after Ben passed, he felt so guilty and then with the start of his vigilant duties, he believed it was safer if there was a rift, something he believed for everyone in his life. 

But that all came to a stop when he was preparing to officially leave home. Family was important, and he knew that. He finally came to realize that intentionally pushing away the last family member he had left was a shitty thing to do, especially when they were in the same boat. 

Today, May would be coming over while Peter cooked for a change. She made dinner for him and his late uncle every day for years, he thought it was about time that he returned the favor. 

Peter was not the best chef, so when he called you earlier that day asking for your assistance, you were more than happy to help. 

The two of you spent the afternoon rushing around the kitchen, making sure you were following the recipes to a T. 

You ended up leaving about half an hour before May was expected to arrive, not without peppering kisses over your boyfriend’s face before parting ways. 

His phone rings, the voice on the other end letting him know they’re about to be there. He rushes down the stairs to the lobby of the building to retrieve his aunt as she arrives. 

She takes one look at him and bites back a laugh, opening her arms to give him a big hug, asking how he was as they headed up to his apartment.

“I’ve been alright, this week at work was actually really good, except for a minor explosion in the lab but no one got hurt. You can put your stuff on the couch,” he replied, opening the door for her. 

“Wow, the food smells great!” She expressed, walking through the small kitchen into the living room, gently folding her jacket over the back of the couch. Just as she was about to drop her bag on the cushion, she stops, turning to look at Peter, “Was Y/n here?” 

The question caught him off guard, “Yes, she was. She helped me with dinner. How’d yo-” he was cut off by his now overjoyed aunt, “Oh my! Is she finally your girlfriend?” 

He couldn’t help but be confused, tilting his head at his aunt before asking why she would think that. “Peter, a blind man could see how you feel about her. But the purse I got her for her birthday last year is here.” She spoke, holding up the bag for him to see. 

“She must have forgotten to grab it before she left. That doesn’t mean she’s my girlfriend though, she’s been over plenty of ti-,” his words come to a halt as he watches May rummage through the bag. 

“That’s incredibly invasive.” He begins but once again stops as she holds out a tube of lipstick, opening it and taking a look at the color. “Just as I suspected.” He looks at her puzzled. “Sweetheart, if you’re going to lie to me, at least be good at it. Go take a look at yourself in the mirror.” 

And he does, heading into the bathroom and flicking in the lights, only to be met with his face full of kisses. The sight of your lipstick stain all over his face causes him to shake his head trying suppress his smile as blush starts creeping up his neck. 

May stands in the hallway, giggling to herself at her nephew’s reaction. “How long?” 

“I asked her to officially be my girlfriend about a month ago.” He answers truthfully, “We haven’t told anyone yet since it’s still new.” 

“Oh, I’m so happy for you two! I’ll have to call her later. Ben and I always thought you’d end up together.” 

“Really?” 

“Really?” She mocks him. “Peter, you’re acting so surprised as if you guys didn’t get “married” in the backyard when you were little, I still have the video at home.” 

“Oh, my god.” 

“You brought all your teddies out as witnesses, it was adorable.” She gushed.

He could feel his face get flush, as she talked. “We should eat, the food’s probably getting cold. What would you like to drink? We made lemonade earlier.” 

“We,” she repeated merrily, her is smile wide as he leaves her standing in the hallway in an attempt to hide how much his cheeks were heating up.

push and pull 

tasm!peter x fem!reader 

summary: 

“how are you today? i’m getting a different aura.”

you raise a brow, confused. 

warnings: fluff, awkward reader and awkward peter. coffee shop vibes, a lot of miscommunication, tiny bit of angst 

a/n: what can i say? 

Keep reading

Golden beams of sunlight peek through the drapes, the warmth of a new dawn dancing across your face - the sounds of the insomnolent city wake you.

Quiet snores cause a smile to spread across your face as you turn to the beautiful man sleeping beside you, his cheeks squished against the pillow underneath his head, his hair wild. Despite the box fan being directly pointed at him, sweat beads lay across his forehead like a crown.

A human space heater, that man.

“Peter,” you breathe, your fingertips caressing his warm cheek before planting a tender kiss on the tip of his perfect nose.

He stirs, inhaling sharply as his eyes blink open - those honey eyes sleepily staring back at you through squinted lids.

He smiles, still blinking away sleep, “Morning, bug.” Peter’s voice is scratchy and deep.

God, you loved his morning voice.

“Good morning,” you say as Peter’s strong arms quickly snake around your waist, pulling you into his warm and sweaty chest.

“C’mere, it’s a Saturday morning - I’m not moving,” the bass of his voice vibrates against your cheek now pressed against his sternum. “I’m not going anywhere, especially because I have such a beautiful human in my arms.”

“Beautiful human?” You retort, pulling back from his embrace to look up at him - his eyes golden from the sunlight pouring into the room. A wide smile spreads across his handsome face as he giggles, shyly hiding his face in the pillow, kicking his leg over you and resting it on your hip, pulling you back into him.

“We should get breakfast delivered,” Peter says. “We should stay here all day, right here in this bed.”

“No Spiderman Delivery Service?” You ask, still wrapped in his arms. “He’s the fastest this side of town.”

“No no, Spider-Man is sleeping,” he says as he rolls himself on top of you.

“Ah,” you say, squished underneath the weight of Peter. “Well, I guess I’m just stuck here then.”

“Oh, I’ll stick you with something,” Peter smiles as he lazily ruts his hips against you.

“Peter Parker!”

Peter lets out a laugh, “oh, don’t Peter Parker me - I know you want this.”

“I do,” you smile.

“Yeah, you do,” he nuzzled his face into your chest.

—-

A/N: I don’t know what this is LOL I just felt inspired this morning. It may suck, but who cares because fanfiction is supposed to be fun :)

Anywho -

Happy Saturday! Love you guys <3

- Cait

Cloud 9

Peter Parker is used to being looked at.

Looked at in annoyance, when he enters and makes his presence, his very well being, just known. Anger, when they realize he won’t simply leave. Frustration, after he opens that snarky, snide mouth that got him in so much trouble and beatings during middle school.

Rage is what he often gets. It’s always mixed in the other looks, sometimes barely noticeable, other times it’s teetering over the surface. But it shines the brightest when they lunge forward, desperate to find the part that would lead to his demise.

And yet, he is more comfortable with that look than the one you’re giving him right now.

Adoration. Devotion. Affectionate.

Love.

Being both blissed out and incredibly sore after sex with Peter

Like sometimes he gets a little too rough when he's pulling you close and gets lost in the whole thing, forgetting about his spidey strength.

So you've got these bruises on your hips and thighs in the exact size and shape of his hands, and achey joints from where he pushed them a bit too far, and he feels awful about it.

He eventually shakes off his orgasm and sleepiness and sees them and the way you move a lot slower, carefully, and his heart just breaks. You could be so fucking happy and he would just hate himself.

He needs to be reassured that it's not a big deal (that you might actually like them) between kisses. And he's gonna be so fucking gentle with you for the next few days, the softest, sweetest touches and kisses whenever you're in reach.

Rest Under The Stars-TASM!Peter Parker

A/n: hello, I used to go by River-Fics but I recently lost that account. If anyone has reblogged a fic from me (no matter how long ago) please send me a copy of it so I can post it again. It would mean the world.

Summary: after a long night of fighting crime Peter returns to you for comfort.

*****a drunk blurb 4 u*****

You and your best friend, Peter had decided to attend Phi Alpha Sigma’s Spring Mixer out of boredom. The two of you were right on theme for the ‘Iconic Couples’ party, dressing up as Westley and Princess Buttercup from The Princess Bride. Peter was in a black thrasher shirt, black skinny jeans with his head covered and wrapped with a black mask, sporting a ridiculous, last minute, black eye liner mustache you had drawn above his upper lip, and you were wearing a floor length, red long-sleeved dress.

“We clean up nice,” Peter said as the two of you stood against the wall of the fraternity’s crowded living room, both holding red solo cups filled with Jungle Juice.

“Wait, what?!” You yell, trying to speak over the thumping music, leaning towards Peter with your hand cupped beside your mouth. “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the music!”

“I said that we clean up nice!” He yells, leaning closer to you - the smell of alcohol wafting in your face.

“God, Pete! How much have you drank?” You yell, stepping closer to him, stepping on his toe in the process and stumbling a bit. Peter’s wide hand gently spreads across the small of your back as he sloppily steps towards you, trying to balance himself and you in his embrace.

He lets out a small laugh, awkwardly pulling his hand from your back just as his honey eyes meet yours, pausing for a moment as he smiles down at you.

“What?” You smirk, squinting your eyes at him before you take a sip from your solo cup.

He licks his lips, eye to eye with you as a soft blush grows on his cheeks - “You look beautiful, Princess.”

“Did you just say that I look beautiful?” You speak into his ear, your bottom lip accidentally brushing against his flesh - immediately sending tingles down your spine just as Peter turns his face towards you, noses brushing together as he yells, “What?!”

You both pause, wide-eyed staring at one another, feeling like the only two people left in the world though the party rages around you.

Peter blinks, swallowing hard before his shaking hand raises, gently hooking his finger below your jaw and tilting your ear towards his mouth.. his lips brush against your skin as he says, “I think that you’re beautiful.”

“Peter, you’re drunk,” you laugh, though your stomach was actively tying into knots.

“I’m not drunk, I’m just in love with you,” he says, clearing his throat as his finger tips delicately trace your hand, softly lacing his fingertips in between yours.

Your eyes meet again. He raises his brows, nodding towards you as he repeats, “I’m in love with you.”

cookie dough 

summary: is this one about self doubt or about cookie dough? who’s to say?

warnings: fluff, bad jokes (it’s midnight shhh), self-doubt, sweet peter, mean peter, mean reader, cookies, ovens