Desperately Need Trying To Pretend That Some Jokes/comments Don't Bother Them Until One Just Finally

desperately need “trying to pretend that some jokes/comments don't bother them until one just finally goes too far” from the prompt list!! maybe peter trying to fit in w a certain crowd and making dumb dude jokes? or funny haha comments about things reader is really insecure about (other “prettier” girls wink hint)?

kinda not the request but kinda yeah

Who came up with the ball and chain simile? 

Just a question, because if you knew, you’d travel back in time to find the weak, misogynistic, miserable son of a bitch and punch his nose a good one. Just imagining the blood just trickling, a bruise forming under his condescending eye, it sends a satisfying zing up your spine. 

Well, you didn’t know who came up with the term. However you did know who’s been using it, and it makes you want to punch him all the same. 

“Nice to finally meet Parker’s ball and chain,” it makes you want to immediately retract your hand and look at Peter in shock, you didn’t know this person at all, he was Peter’s friend, someone he’s been hanging out more with around campus, and he wanted you to meet him, and the first thing he compares you to was something that weighs someone down. 

Your hand goes limp in his hand, he hasn’t even told you his name, “I’m sorry, what?” 

And he laughs, not the man shaking your hand, don’t worry he laughs too, with the other circle of friends. No, the laugh that stuck out the most was your boyfriends. 

Like an inside joke, it made you feel really small. Normally you’d pull your hand away and tuck into Peter’s side, but right now you want to walk away. Peter didn’t have your back here, how nasty that sounded, from a stranger no less, and it made him laugh and disregard the audacity in his friend's voice. 

When the man holding your hand caught your silence he stopped and shook your hand, “just kidding, love.” His pet name sends a chill down your spine, where’s Peter’s supportive hand on your back? “I’m Nick.” 

You bite your tongue and smile appropriately until the end of the dragged out interaction, only speaking when necessary, missing Peter’s touches, why wasn’t he holding you? Normally his hand would hold your thigh at the dinner table, or his thumb would take swipes at your back to settle you when you leaned into him. The only thing he’s done is thrown a dominating arm over your shoulder when his other friend Oscar complimented your outfit, it didn’t feel right and you shrugged him off. 

You couldn’t hold it in any longer, the second you were far enough away from his friends ears you spoke, the breeze outside made you cross your arms over your chest, spitting your words with venom you couldn’t bear to even look at Peter. 

“What the fuck was that tonight?” 

Peter looked at you, dared to be confused, “what was what?” 

You pointed back at the restaurant, “that, Peter. What the fuck was that?” 

“Dinner?” 

You seeth, he’s playing dumb, you refuse to get in his car. “What the fuck is the matter with you?” 

“Get in the car,” he looks back over, hoping his friends aren’t watching. 

“No. Not until you tell me what that was.” 

Peter rubbed his forehead, “stop being dramatic, get in the car.” 

He’s never spoken to you like this, you don’t know what went on but you were livid. He was speaking to you like a dog, nervous you were speaking your mind at his sudden change of character in front of his friends. 

“Peter, I swear to fucking god you better check yourself, I’ll show you how dramatic I can be.” 

He takes a look back, no one’s watching, he quickly comes to your side of the car. His arms grip your shoulders and he gently pushes you against the car. “Stop, please just get in the car.” 

You narrow your eyes, “you’re not sleeping over tonight.” 

He sighs and pushes you to the side, he opens the passenger side door and gestures to it, “okay, sure. Will you please just get in?” 

You scoff and push him away, “I am so unbelievably pissed at you it’s not funny.” 

Frustration seeps at Peter’s voice, his teeth are clenched, “yeah, I get it. Just get the fuck in, Y/N.” 

You click your teeth and get in, before Peter can close the door you grab the handle and slam it shut as hard as you could, you watch him pinch the bridge of his nose and mumble to himself in the side mirror before walking back to his side. 

When he sat down you turned your body towards the door, you refused to speak to him. 

“I’m not talking to you.” 

Peter doesn’t wrap his arm around your seat when he reverses, you know why you’re mad, he doesn’t have a right to be mad. 

“Great.” 

“I just wanted you to know.” 

“Thanks.” 

You’re beyond pissed, but him not fighting back made it worse. It made you blow over even harder, suddenly you either needed to get out of the car or you were about to start screaming. Your jaw clenched as you waited but he said nothing, tapping his fingers to the beat on the radio you felt like you were steaming. 

“You were shit tonight and so were your friends.” 

“So you are talking to me.” 

“Yeah, because I wanted you to know you made me feel like shit tonight and you’re making it worse by not defusing it.” 

“I just,” Peter pauses, then sighs and rubs his eyebrow, “baby, I don’t know what you’re mad at.” 

The sudden tone change made you sad, why were you mad? Nick said a shitty thing, but Peter didn’t have your back, that’s what it was about. 

You have a lot of emotion and not enough time or space to figure them out, they come out in the form of tears. You tried your hardest to blink back tears, you sniffed and it gave you away. 

“Baby?” A hand rested on your thigh, you grabbed it to push it off, instead his worry made you burst. Your lower lip trembles when you speak, the words tumble out. “Nick was mean and you laughed.” 

And Peter felt bad, so he pulled off the road and unbuckled himself to reach over and hold you. He repeated sorry’s until you felt better, then told you it was a dumb joke, and he was so, so, so sorry. 

“I promise, baby, it was just a joke.” 

Maybe you were overreacting, you did just meet him and he was Peter’s friend, maybe he just made a tasteless joke, you could accept it at that. 

“You promise it was just a joke?” 

Peter presses kisses to your hairline, “promise.” 

You tried to keep the same mindset over the next few weeks, you plastered a fake smile on each time it was said and sometimes you were able to choke out a laugh, joke or not the meaning upset you. 

You couldn’t handle it anymore, last night Nick laid into you, “late again, let me guess, the ball and chain were reluctant to let go?” It wasn’t being compared to the object anymore, you were the object. 

“Can we talk?” 

Those words always sent a jolt in Peter’s spine, he hates those three words, nothing good ever happened. 

“Of course.” He watched you pace the floor in front of him. 

“I tried being cool, Peter. I really did, and I didn’t want to be dramatic and ruin a fun time, but I can’t, Peter. I can’t handle the jokes anymore, it makes me feel super insecure and it feels like I’m just an object for you.” 

“What jokes?” 

It feels silly, but you feel judged every time you do something around his friends. 

“The ball and chain ones. It makes me feel like I’m weighing you down, and it’s really getting to me. I don’t want to ruin the joke but I just feel like I can’t be myself around your friends.” 

Peter’s upset he’s let it go on so long, he should’ve stopped it after the first time it happened but when he saw you smile along he thought you were in on the joke, you weren’t, it still felt like they were laughing at you. 

“If it makes you feel like that it’s not a joke. I’ll stop it, they’ll never say it again.” 

Was it really that easy? 

“I don’t want to be dramatic,” 

“Not dramatic, poking fun at someone's expense isn’t fun.” 

It was that easy. 

“Never again?” 

“Nope. Watch this,” Peter grabs his phone and holds it up, “hey, Siri. Text the group chat, my old lady’s making me tell you guys-” 

Peter was cut off when you tackled him to the couch. 

Hi can I ask for a blurb where Peter accidently hits the reader while playing or something like he sometimes forgets about his super strength but fluff at the end please 🥺.

this got away from me but this was so fun and cute to write!

“I kinda want a black eye.” 

Your boyfriend slowly lowered the bag of peas on his left eye, his elbow dropped daringly, forcing you to look at the dark purple hue. 

“Oh, really?” 

You nod, “it looks gnarly but it’d be cool to have one.” 

“Baby, my heartbeat is currently taking place from my eyeball. You don’t want one.” 

Stretching across the space on the couch you raise Peter’s hand back up so he can ice the bruise some more, it does look painful. 

“I think if you loved me you’d give me one.” 

Peter took a second to see if that sentence would resonate with you but it hadn’t. 

“We should go to the women's shelter and spread that knowledge.” 

You scoff, “they weren't asking for it, Peter. I am.” 

Your boyfriend lowered his temporary ice pack and reached a hand out, his thumb rubbed under your eye, you almost thought he was thinking about it. Almost. 

“I’d never. I would, however, patch you up if you ever got one.” 

“Do you have a friend that could-” 

“No.” 

—------------------------------------

Oh FUCK did your eye HURT. 

It was on a level ten throb level, it felt like a ring stretching to your eyebrow and nose. You couldn’t even open it, all you could do was press your hand to it and try and stop the pressure from building, it didn’t work. 

You were able to blink it open just enough to be blinded by the living room light, you’ve never been so light sensitive. Squeezing it shut you winced, you tried to be understanding and calm; it was an accident after all. But the pain was spreading all over your face and you had a target right on the corner of your right eye, and it hurt. 

If your right eye could open it’d be shedding tears too, you had one continuance stream coming from your left eye. 

Your voice bubbles with pain, “petey, it hurts.” 

Your boyfriend couldn’t even breathe right now, he had hurt you. The one thing he swore he would never, could never do, and he did it. Panic flooded his body, panicked he’s caused serious damage, panicked you’d be scared of him, panicked you’d dump him, panicked your dad would come curbstomp him. 

“It hurts so bad,” he knows you’re calling out for him, he knows you need him, but all he could replay was the ‘whack!’ in his head. It wasn’t gentle in the slightest, you whipped away from him with a hiss, your hand immediately covering your eye. You had been okay at first but after a minute had passed it became nearly unbearable.

Peter knows how bad a black eye hurts, and he just gave you one. 

His short, barely there breaths start to stutter.  

And suddenly Peter couldn’t see because his vision was muddled by tears, he tried to blink them back but they ran. He can’t remember the last time he’s cried, but this brought him to his knees. He never wanted to punish himself more than in that second. He should’ve been quicker, he should’ve known you were behind him, he has those goddamn senses and they did nothing in that moment. 

“Peter!” A desperate cry for attention, you don’t know what to do, it hurts more than you could imagine. 

You look up at your boyfriend still standing in shock where he jumped away from you after hitting you directly in your eye. A wrestling battle, you had tried to take him down after he’d pinned you three times. In an effort of a sneak attack you crawled up the couch and tried to jump on his back where he sat on the floor. You dived and at the last moment his hand… well you don’t know what he was trying to do but it connected hard to your cheekbone. 

Your back hit the couch and you held your hand as you hissed and groaned in hurt, Peter scrambled up and backed up behind the coffee table, as if he was scared to be around you.  

He’s crying, your boyfriend’s crying. You’ve been punched and he’s crying. 

“I’m.. I’m sorr.. Fuck.” Peter snaps out of it, you need him. He crosses to the couch in two steps, his hand cupping your cheek. It makes everything in him deflate when you flinch as he touches you, he bites his bottom lip to stop a sob. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” 

His heart hurts as you cry, his thumb taps at your hand covering the damaged eye. The one he caused. 

“Let me see it, please?” Peter said it like a question, like he’d ever be lucky enough to have that privilege. 

You sob, “it hurts.” 

Peter blinks, more tears. He can’t believe he’s crying over this, he also can’t believe he hit his fucking girlfriend. 

“I know, I know it does, baby. Please let me see it.” 

You choke in air to stop your crying, it works. You slowly lift your hand off your eye, it’s not throbbing as much but the pressure has inflated tenfold and you couldn’t open it if you tried, it was swollen shut. You tried to gauge a reaction out of him, to see how bad it is. You forgot your boyfriend had the world’s best poker face. 

Peter wanted to curl up into a ball when he saw the damage. 

It was bruising, and swollen and you couldn’t open your eye and it was all his fault. 

His fault, his fault, his fault. 

If he was normal, if he was a normal boyfriend, this wouldn’t have happened. A normal teenager doesn’t have the strength to hold a ferry or stop a runaway bus, he does. And he used that strength on you. 

His powers, his abilities, his strength.

His fault, his fault, his fault. 

“You need ice.” Is all that could come out. A wince wraps over your face when you nod, you try to sit up and groan. “Everything hurts. How do you do this? Pain has to affect you differently, right?” Peter ignored you as he backed away, you don’t think he’s ever been so aware of his surroundings and actions. 

He shouldn’t be getting ice, he shouldn’t be putting it in a plastic bag and wrapping a rag around it, he shouldn’t be grabbing you tylenol extra strength, he shouldn’t be icing your black eye he caused. 

His fault, his fault, his fault. 

It scared you how quiet he was, the accidental punch was just that. You weren’t upset at him or scared he would do it again, you were scared how odd he was acting. He was strangely quiet and standoffish, when he came back to you with ice and pills you watched him think about holding the bag to your eye but stopped and put it in your hand. 

He shifted his weight and looked at the couch, he stepped back and sat on the coffee table. 

Peter cried and was quiet and standoffish and scared to touch you. He was terrified of himself, you may be physically hurt but he was emotionally broken, his one major thing washed down the drain. Accident or not he gave you a black eye, and it was tearing him up inside. 

You hummed when ice hit the hot skin, suddenly it didn’t hurt. 

“Am I right, super high pain tolerance?” 

It’s like you broke through a wall, Peter looked up at you like he just found out you were in the room. 

“I hit you.” 

You would’ve rolled your eyes if you could’ve. 

“That’s a little dramatic.” 

Peter shook his head, upset you weren’t upset. 

“I hit you hard, I hurt you. I…” His hand pulled at his curls so hard you grit your teeth. “I fucking hit you,” he whispered it, like his own mind couldn’t wrap it around. 

He doesn’t pull out the fuck word often. 

You thought about reaching out for his hand, but you think that’d made things worse. 

“I’m not scared of you, petey. It was an accident.” 

“I swore i’d never hurt you, that I would never hit you and I didn’t-” 

“Mean it.” You cut him off, “you didn’t mean it.” 

Peter rubbed at his jaw and blinked, you saw tears puddling and you wanted to do nothing more than hold him. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, you lowered the bag of ice from your eye prepared to switch seats. He wouldn’t let you. 

“Ice.” Cold and hard, like you had no other option. You didn’t question him, you followed instructions. 

“Remember when you asked me to give you a black eye months ago?” 

It was a joke. Sure, you saw a tiktok with a girl who had one and you couldn’t deny it looked a little cool. Then seeing one on Peter the same night you couldn’t shake it. You were just playing around, it’s not like it was that serious. 

“I was joki-” 

“I told you I'd never, and I did. I hit my girlfriend and gave her a black eye.” 

Disgust. That’s what it was. He was disgusted with himself. 

You sat up straight, your lip curled up. 

A black eye? Sick.

“Wait, really?” 

Peter looked up at your excitement, it came from nowhere. 

“You gave me a black eye? I have a black eye right now? For real, for real?” 

This wasn’t a cute or funny thing, and he won’t let you make it be one. 

He hit you.

“This isn’t funny, I hit you and you’re happy you got a black eye?” 

“Pete, I forgive you. And not just cause you gave me a black eye, because it was an accident and you didn’t mean to and you’re obviously extremely remorseful.” 

“But I-” 

You reached out for his hand, “forgive yourself. You forgive yourself.” 

It wouldn’t be instant, until your eye healed, which would be at a much slower rate than him, he wouldn’t be able to fully forgive himself. 

“No more wrestling.” 

You scoff, “no more sneak attacks, how about that?” 

He shook his head, “I don’t want this happening again.” 

“If the situation was reversed would you want me to hold it against myself?” 

Peter scoffed, “absolutely not, but it wouldn’t hurt me like it does you.” 

“So you do have a super high pain tolerance.” 

He snapped and ripped his hand from yours, “yes, I do have a super high pain tolerance. I also have super strength and give my girlfriend black eyes.” 

You held your hand up, the other one slightly freezing from the cold but you were too scared to take it off. 

“First off, plural. Second, please stop. You’re making me feel bad, I’m really okay and I’m not mad and I forgive you a thousand million percent.” 

Peter inhaled sharply, he has to believe you. He’s more shook up than you are and he guesses he should agree with you, you were the hurt one. If you forgive him he could try and do the same.

“I think you need to give me a black eye to even it out.” 

You gasp like your offended at his words, your hand lays over your heart. 

“I’d never!” 

Your boyfriend ran his tongue over his teeth and gave you a dead stare, his hands pushed him off the coffee table. His words grumbled, “toxic.” 

It’s Just a Costume

Requested?: Yes! I got two requests I merged into one, where Y/N is dressed really nice and all the guys in the office are ogling her, and Jim gets un poco jealous, and another request around the Halloween episode where Dwight turns up as the Joker and when Y/N comes in as Harley he thinks it’s a sign they are meant to be together.

Word Count: 4.2K+

Author’s Note: I have been given a burst of energy recently and want to make sure all the requests I have gotten are written (even if these ones are from a month ago (I’m so sorry)). I like the idea of jealous Jim, not gonna lie, because it seems like this would be his only actual flaw. I hope you enjoy; this is my second thing with smut so bear with me.

Warning: SMUT. oral (female receiving), intercourse, sex while on the phone. I went a bit off the rails, this is new territory for me.

–

No-one in the office knew you were a cosplayer.

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Liked by Pierre Gasly

reqested by anon 70 “there are rumors about us” “i know i spread them”  30 “im not your friend im your boyfriend get it right”

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