Hi Can I Ask For A Blurb Where Peter Accidently Hits The Reader While Playing Or Something Like He Sometimes

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.”