#far from home x reader

[talaok]

Training

Pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader

Summary: Peter has never been able to last enough to take care of you, but as it turns out... practice does make perfect.

Warnings: talk about premature ejaculation, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, sub!peter and lots of pet names for spidey.

he was always so desperate around you. He was always shy about it, but every time you gave him permission his hands never left your body.

He was so fucking in love with you it was actually a little bit scary.

Nobody had ever made him feel the way you did, and not just sex-wise (although goddamn wasn't that the best thing ever), no, but feelings-wise- like he could breathe more easily around you, like he felt light and soft and the word was perfect whenever you were near.

And everything really was perfect... except one little thing.

he couldn't last.

You weren't making it a big deal, being that you were also teaching him every other way he could make you come, but still, he wanted to do it... he so desperately wanted to feel your walls squeeze him as you came that he was willing to do anything... but it was just so hard.

Andit never got easier...

"c'mon baby" you purred, taking his face in your hands "You can do it, think of something else," you said, out of breath as you bounced on his cock "Anything else baby, I'm almost there"

His eyes were shut close.

He'd found that he didn't even stand a chance at lasting more than 2 minutes if he was watching you.

And he tried, he really tried to get his mind to make something up, to will it to find something else to focus on, but-

"you feel so good y/n- I-I can't"

"yes you can" you shut him up with a messy kiss "You wanna be my good boy, baby?" you ask, eliciting a whimper from his throat

"y-yes" he choked out, not sure how he still hadn't burst

"Yeah?" you breathed "Then you're gonna have to be good and wait a little more" you moaned, his dick hitting a particularly good spot "Can you do that for me, baby? can you wait a little more?"

"mh-mh" he hummed, sounding on the verge of tears

"good boy" you moaned, your nails scratching his chest, as he stretched you so incredibly well "fuck-you feel so good" you cried, your voice drowning out the sound of your skin slapping with his "s-so big baby" you moaned again "s-so f-fucking-"

And then, just like that, it happened- the most extraordinary thing he'd ever felt.

You came, you came on his cock- you came because of him (although, let's be honest, you did all the work), and it felt-

he didn't even have words for it, he only groaned louder than he had ever done, and finally (and inevitably) reached his own release as your walls squeezed his dick and your moans filled the air.

He was grinning like an idiot the moment you opened your eyes back up, and you couldn't help but laugh "You liked it?"

"yes" he nodded, still smiling wide "yes very much"

"mhh" you hummed, bashing in your post-orgasmic bliss as you leaned down to kiss him "I told you you could do it honey"

[shortnspidey]

SLIM PICKINS

Peter Parker X female!reader || WC: 5.7K

SUMMARY: Safe to say your love life was nonexistent. You’d tried everything, swiping through dating apps like it was your part-time job, smiling at strangers on the subway, even letting friends set you up with guys. Still, nothing. Just awkward dates, ghosted messages, and a lingering sense that love might just be a myth. But maybe, just maybe, the problem wasn’t you. Turns out, slim pickins didn’t apply when the best option was right under your nose.

WARNINGS: Established friendship, friends to lovers, idiots in love, angst, fluff, cursing, self-depreciating thoughts, set after the events of Spiderman: Homecoming, Me Before You reference, steamy kiss but no smut!

A/N: About time I wrote something about the man that this blog is named after! Figured I’d combine both with this story, based on the song below! I related a little too much to this, cause let's be so real the dating world is the worst right now! 😭 Hope y’all enjoy!! Divider by @sister-lucifer <3

➩ main masterlist

➩ peter parker masterlist

For you, Valentine’s Day had to be the worst day out of the entire year. Everywhere you turned, couples were practically glued together, gripping hands like the world would end if they let go, feeding each other overpriced chocolates in the park, giggling over heart-shaped lattes like it was the most original thing ever. The city seemed to ooze affection: pink lights in every café window, pop-up flower stands on every corner.

So you did what you did every year, opted out.

No red, no pink, no cheap paper hearts. Just your regular hoodie, headphones in, head down, ready to get through the day like it was any other Friday. That was the plan for tonight too: takeout, a rom-com you’d pretend not to cry over, and your faithful pint of Cherry Garcia ice cream. That was the plan. And you were sticking with it, no matter what. The slam of the lockers nearby snapped you out of your daydream.

You blinked, realizing you’d been standing there too long, caught in your own mental version of a black-and-white breakup montage. You turned toward the sound, already half-expecting to see more heart-shaped nonsense or a couple caught mid-makeout, but it was just your best friend, Peter Parker. He was stuffing books into his backpack like he was late for something, hair a little mussed, sleeves rolled sloppily to his elbows.

He looked like he hadn’t slept much, which, with Peter, wasn’t exactly breaking news, especially not lately, ever since he scored the Stark Internship. You’d noticed the late nights, the new bruises he never explained, the way he sometimes winced when he thought no one was looking. But there was something different about him today. A kind of restless energy buzzing just beneath the surface, like he was waiting for something, or holding something in.

Before you could get too caught up in decoding him, a familiar voice broke through your thoughts. “Sup, loser.” You turned just in time to catch MJ smirking at you, her hands tucked deep into the pockets of her oversized army jacket. Her hair was pulled back in a haphazard bun, earbuds draped carelessly around her neck like a lazy accessory. You couldn’t help the way your mouth twitched into a smile.

MJ had a way of grounding you, dragging you back to earth in the best and most sarcastic ways. You closed your locker with a metallic clunk and slung your backpack over your shoulder, matching her stride as the two of you headed toward the cafeteria. “Any pink-plans later?” MJ snickered, bumping her elbow into yours with just enough force to make you stumble a step. “You know I hate Valentine’s Day as much as you do, Michelle.” You groaned, theatrically.

“Just checking. Can’t have you catching feelings and making me participate in some disgusting heart-themed Pinterest night.” She narrowed her eyes, mock-serious. “Because I will burn it all down.” You held your hands up in mock-surrender. “I believe you,” You laughed, tugging the sleeve of your hoodie over your knuckles. “It’s the worst holiday. Manufactured affection, forced gift-giving, fake declarations of love… hard pass.”

“See, this is why we get along,” MJ smiled hooking her arm around yours. “We’re both deeply cynical with emotionally unavailable tendencies. Can’t forget out motto, expect disappointment and we’ll never be disappointed.” You shrugged. “Actually, I prefer to call it realistic,” You replied, shooting her a grin. “And emotionally self-aware.” MJ raised a brow, amused. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

You pushed open the doors to the cafeteria, immediately greeted by the smell of questionable pizza and the sight of pink streamers crisscrossed along the ceiling like some kind of Valentine's-themed crime scene. Someone was handing out candygrams near the front doors, each one tied with a glittery ribbon and a little plastic rose. You felt your stomach twist at the mere thought.

You noticed Peter had already found a seat by the windows, half-heartedly poking at something on his tray. He looked up just then, as if he felt you looking. His eyes caught yours, wide, doe brown, and tired. But there was something in them. A flicker. You weren’t sure what it meant. MJ followed your gaze, then glanced sideways at you, suspicious. “Please don’t tell me you’re catching feelings for Parker, of all people.”

You scoffed, a little too fast. “What? No. Don’t be ridiculous.” She didn’t look convinced. In fact, she narrowed her eyes in that signature MJ way, like she was two seconds from dissecting your soul under a microscope. At this point, you were pretty sure she could read your mind. The smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth was dangerously knowing. “You’ve got that look.” She stated matter-of-factly.

You folded your arms across your chest, the universal defense mechanism of a person absolutely guilty of something. “What look?” You challenged, raising a brow with as much faux confidence as you could muster. “The maybe-my-best-friend’s-cute look.” She deadpanned, her eyes flicking toward Peter again like she was collecting evidence. “I don’t have a look.” You insisted, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “You do. In fact, it’s happening right now.”

You flushed instantly, heat instantly rising to your cheeks. Your eyes darted away, landing on the nearby vending machine with sudden, exaggerated interest. But MJ wasn’t letting you off the hook so easily. Before you could protest further, she looped her arm through yours and practically dragged you toward the lunch table where Ned and Peter were already seated.

Their conversation, coming to a suspiciously abrupt halt the moment you and MJ got within earshot. Peter’s eyes flicked up to meet yours. He straightened a little in his seat, pushing his tray forward like he’d just been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Ned looked equally guilty, but less subtle about it. “Y/N! MJ!” Ned called out with a wide grin, waving you both over as if you hadn’t been on a direct path to the table already. You didn’t question it.

You slid into your usual spot across from Peter, MJ settling beside you with her book already reopened like she had better things to do than acknowledge everyone at the table. “Any plans tonight?” Ned asked casually, his tone too light to be anything but bait. “I’ve got a date with Ben and Jerry,” You smirked as you unzipped your bag. “And my bed.” Peter let out a laugh, which seemed to have caught him off guard, because he immediately coughed to cover it up.

Ned, fully aware of your annual anti-Valentine’s crusade, turned to MJ next. “What about you? Anything?” MJ didn’t even glance up from her book. “Why would I want to celebrate a holiday that promotes codependency and glorifies capitalist manipulation through artificial affection and overpriced florals?” You snorted, choking on the sip of water you’d just taken.

Ned nodded solemnly, clearly used to this answer by now, and launched into an explanation of the new Star Wars LEGO set he’d started building, a massive replica of the Millennium Falcon that, according to him, required “Jedi-level precision.”You half-listened, eyes occasionally drifting to Peter, who had been oddly quiet ever since you sat down. You shouldn’t have been surprised, because that’s when MJ struck.

“What about you, Parker?” She drawled, finally looking up, her tone all faux innocence. “Any Valentine’s Day plans we should know about?” You looked over at him just in time to see the tips of his ears turn pink, spreading color across his cheeks. Peter didn’t look up, just stabbed at the contents of his tray like they were suddenly a tactical threat. “Stark internship,” He muttered, shrugging. “Same as usual.”

You tilted your head, studying him a little more closely. That restless energy from earlier hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had doubled. His foot was bouncing under the table. His fingers were tapping an uneven rhythm on the plastic edge of his tray. Something was definitely off. MJ gave you a barely-there glance from behind her book. Just a flick of her eyes. But the message was loud and clear nonetheless.

He’s hiding something.

You engaged in idle conversation with Ned, letting him drag you into a very passionate rant about why Rogue One was the pinnacle of Star Wars cinema. You nodded along, offering a few “totally”s and “yeah, that makes sense”s, but your mind kept drifting. Not because Ned was boring, far from it, but because Peter had gone almost completely silent which was completely unlike him.

Normally he’d be adding sarcastic comments, laughing at Ned’s over-the-top dramatics, maybe even jumping in with a nerdy side tangent of his own. But now? You were lucky to get a grunt, or a tight-lipped smile. One-word contributions. Maybe two, if you were lucky. You wanted to ask what was going on with him, but the shrill screech of the final bell cut through the room. Backpacks zipped. Chairs scraped. People moved like a tide.

You waved goodbye to MJ and Ned, slinging your bag over your shoulder and weaving into the current of students heading to your last class of the day. That’s when you heard it, soft, just behind your shoulder. “Hey.” You turned to find Peter keeping pace beside you, his stride just a little too quick, like he’d hurried to catch up. His hair was ruffled from where he must’ve run a hand through it, and he was fiddling with the strap of his bag, knuckles flexing, fingers twitching.

You’d known him long enough to recognize the signs: Peter Parker was nervous. “What’s up, Pete?” You asked, eyebrows rising slightly, your tone casual even though your heartbeat was beating hard against your chest. He glanced around, eyes flicking to the packed hallway, then back to you. He opened his mouth, closed it, then forced the words out before he could second-guess himself. “D-Do you want to, maybe, go out with me tonight?”

You stopped walking. Hard. If Peter hadn’t gently guided you out of the flow of foot traffic, you might’ve been flattened by the stampede of couples hand-in-hand and girls with teddy bears bigger than their torsos. The contact, his hand on your forearm, steady and warm, sent a current of heat straight through your veins. You blinked at him. “What?” He looked like he might combust on the spot, rubbing the back of his neck, his smile twitchy and nervous.

“I mean, like… you and me. Dinner. Tonight. I thought maybe we could, you know, go out.” Your stomach twisted, not in dread, but in that dizzy, disorienting way when the world shifts without warning. “Did MJ or Ned put you up to this?” You asked, the question out before you could filter it. Your walls were going up fast, automatic. Peter’s face fell for a split second, but he shook his head quickly. “What? No—no, this was my idea. I wanted to do this. I’ve actually been… thinking about it for a while now.”

You studied him, trying to find the punchline, but apparently there wasn’t one. Just Peter, standing there with his wide, hopeful brown doe eyes, flushed ears, and slightly crooked smile that always showed up when he was trying not to panic. He placed both hands gently on your shoulders, grounding you with a reassuring squeeze. “Only if you want to,” He whispered softly. “It’s okay if not. I just… I thought maybe…”

You looked at him, really looked at him and all those pros and cons you’d silently compiled over the last few seconds since he had popped the question suddenly lit up like neon signs in your mind. Pros: he knew you better than anyone. He made you laugh when you didn’t want to. He always saved you a seat, even when he said he wasn’t going to. He looked at you like you were… something more.

Cons? Honestly? You couldn’t think of a single one. Your lips tugged into a small smile, mind already made up, like it was the easiest decision you ever had to make. “It’s a date, Parker.” You watched as his entire face lit up, the tension in his shoulders vanishing like fog in sunlight. “Really?” You nodded once, biting back a grin of your own. And before you could blink, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

Soft. Quick. Chaste, but it lingered. Just long enough to make your breath catch in your throat. “I’ll pick you up at five!” He called out, grinning ear to ear, already backing into the crowd. You stood frozen for a moment, students weaving around you, your cheek tingling from where his lips had been pressed. A date. On Valentine’s Day. With your best friend. Who you definitely, totally, absolutely did not have a crush on. Right?

It’s safe to say your closet was a war zone within minutes. Clothes clung to hangers like they were taunting you, while others were flung across your bed, draped over the back of your chair, or pooling on the floor like casualties of indecision. Denim, florals, sweaters, skirts, none of it looked right. Your makeup, usually tucked neatly away in drawers, was now strewn haphazardly across your vanity.

Lipsticks without caps, eyeshadow palettes cracked open, brushes rolling toward the edge like they were trying to make a run for it. You stared at the mess, chest rising and falling a little quicker than normal, fingers twitching uselessly at your sides. This wasn’t supposed to be this hard. It was just Peter. And yet, nothing you owned seemed to fit whatever it was that this night had become.

Anything you imagined yourself wearing was either too formal, too stiff, too casual, too “I tried way too hard,” or worse, “I didn’t try at all.” You held up a red sweater, squinted, then tossed it aside moving onto the next potential piece. You groaned, flopping back on your bed and burying your face in a pile of unfolded laundry. “This is so stupid." You muttered to yourself. But it wasn’t, because despite your best attempts at denial, your heart had been in overdrive ever since that kiss on the cheek.

Your fingers had brushed the spot absentmindedly at least a dozen times since. Now, every time you looked at the clock, a ripple of panic surged through you. You sat up, blowing hair out of your face, and tried again. Eventually, you landed on something simple but flattering, a soft-knit top in your favorite color and a pair of jeans that hugged your curves just right. You didn’t look like you were headed to a gala, but you also didn’t look like someone who was about to binge another rom-com in sweats.

Makeup came next, light, effortless, like you woke up like this even though you'd definitely sweated through at least one hundred outfit meltdowns already. A little mascara and eyeliner, your go-to gloss, and just the tiniest dab of blush to make you look alive. When you finally looked in the mirror, you paused. It was still you. But it was the version of you who, for once, didn’t dread Valentine’s Day.

The you who maybe, just maybe, was looking forward to this.

You were done getting ready by 4:00. Too early, probably. But you couldn’t help it. You re-sprayed a little perfume behind your ears. Lip gloss reapplied twice. By 4:30, you were already perched on the edge of your bed, checking your phone even though there were no new notifications. None at all. You told yourself he’d show up early, maybe even knock on the door at 4:45 just to be polite.

You checked the mirror one more time, tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and tried to act normal. Totally not spiraling. Then it was 5:00. Okay, technically not late. Not everyone was obsessed with punctuality. Maybe he got caught on the subway. Or traffic. Or… whatever Peter usually got caught in. So you cut him some slack. At 5:15, you refreshed your messages for the third time, just in case your phone was glitching.

You checked your ringer, turned it off airplane mode, then turned it back on airplane mode, because that’s what desperate people did when they didn’t want to believe no one was texting them. 5:30. The silence started to feel heavier, the kind of silence that didn’t feel empty, just abandoned. The kind that pressed on your chest, slow and suffocating. 5:45. You peeled off your jacket and let it slump onto your desk chair.

You kept the rest of your outfit on, though. Some stubborn part of you still hoped for the sound of footsteps up the stairs. For a sheepish knock and a “sorry, I got caught up.” 6:00. Your legs had started to go numb from sitting so still. Your phone sat face-up on your bed, taunting you. The city outside your window buzzed with life, laughter echoing from the sidewalks, couples walking hand-in-hand on their way to overpriced dinners.

The world was moving, and you were frozen in place, still waiting on someone who clearly wasn’t coming. By 7:00, your heart sank low into your chest, too exhausted to hold itself up anymore. You let out a breath that felt like it’d been stuck in your ribs for an hour. Your eyes stung, but you blinked fast, forcing the tears back with everything you had. You didn’t want to cry over this, not tonight. Not over him. Still, your throat felt tight as you stood up, walking slowly toward your door.

You reached for the purse you’d hung by the hook hours ago, so sure you’d be needing it, only this time, you quietly placed it back in your closet. Your boots echoed against the floor as you kicked them off one by one. You didn’t bother turning the lights on. You shut off your phone instead, one last look at the blank screen before pressing the button and letting it all fade to black. You peeled off the outfit you’d picked with such careful hope.

The top you thought he might compliment. The jeans you felt just confident enough in. You wiped off your makeup, the mascara smudged slightly beneath your eyes from tears you swore you weren’t going to cry. But you did. You climbed into bed in a hoodie and sweatpants, bundled beneath a blanket like it could protect you from the hurt clawing through your chest. It wasn’t just that he didn’t show. It was Peter who didn’t show. Peter, who knew how hard dating had always been for you.

Who knew how much rejection chipped away at you more than you let on. Who was supposed to be the one person you could trust not to leave you hanging like this. You'd put yourself out there. For him. And he had forgot. Your tears were quiet but steady, slipping down your cheeks and soaking into your pillow. It wasn’t loud sobbing, no, it was that low, ache-deep kind of heartbreak. The kind that made your chest feel hollow and your throat burn and your brain whisper I should’ve known better.

After a few minutes of wallowing in self-pity, you swiped at your cheeks roughly with your sleeve and let out a bitter laugh. “Nope,” You muttered to no one. “Not crying over this. Not again.” You grabbed your laptop from your nightstand and queued up Me Before You. If you were going to cry tonight, it would be over Will Traynor, over Lou in those ridiculous bumblebee tights and her heartbreak in Paris.

That kind of pain made sense. Predictable. Scripted. It wasn’t supposed to feel this personal. You clicked play. And that’s when you heard it. A soft sliding sound, followed by the faintest thud of something landing just inside your room. Your heart jolted. The window. Your breath hitched in your throat as you slowly turned your head, blanket still pulled up to your chin. And there he was, Spider-Man. Climbing through your window like this was just a casual Friday occurrence.

Red-and-blue suit gleaming in the low light, a plastic bag dangling from one gloved hand. “Spider-Man?” You whispered, half a gasp. Half a question. Your voice cracked under the weight of surprise and disbelief. The white eyes on his mask snapped wide, comically so, like a cartoon. His whole body stiffened like he hadn’t expected you to be there, even though this was your room. “What the hell are you doing in my—”

You stopped.

His shoulders. His posture. The awkward, familiar way he froze like he’d just been caught sneaking in after curfew. Your breath caught. No, it couldn’t be. Something inside you shifted, recognition blooming like something you weren’t supposed to feel. He didn’t answer at first. Just stood there like a kid caught red-handed, one arm still holding the bag, the other halfway raised like he might wave.

You blinked, your stomach churning with something hot and bitter. “Peter Benjamin Parker,” You hissed, voice shaking as you sat up straighter in your bed, blanket clutched like a shield around you. “If that’s you behind that mask, so help me, God—” Silence. Then, his voice, muffled and hesitant, cracked through the air like a confession. “…Y/N, please, I can explain.”

You stared, eyes wide as he tugged the mask back and off his head with one hand still raised, almost like he thought you might throw something. You didn’t. You couldn’t. Not when you were suddenly staring at the boy you’d grown up with, the boy you trusted more than anyone else, standing in front of you in spandex and dried blood. God, you wished you had been wrong.

For a second, just one, your fury wavered. His face was bruised, his lip cracked open and caked with dried blood. His eyes, still soft and impossibly brown, carried this exhausted, haunted look that hadn’t been there a few months ago. Not really. You always assumed he was just overextending himself with school. Or the internship. But now it all made sense. The chronic exhaustion. The sudden strength. The sudden ghosting.

The constant injuries that came with vague excuses. How he’d somehow grown five feet taller overnight. It all just clicked. And yet, it didn’t stop hurting. You tucked your knees to your chest, arms wrapped tight around them, blanket slipping from your shoulders as you fought to keep your voice steady. “Y/N, please,” Peter coaxed softly, stepping forward. “I know it’s a lot to process—” You let out a scoff before you could stop it. “Understatement of the year.” You muttered, not meeting his eyes.

“I swear I was on time. I had everything planned. I even had Mr. Stark get us a reservation at that little Italian place you kept walking by after school, the one with the outdoor string lights and those little lemon desserts you said you wanted to try.” Your chest tightened. “I was on my way,” He rushed on, voice cracking with guilt. “And then this guy, some psycho in this rhino get-up, literally plows through Midtown. Police were nowhere close, and people were getting hurt, and I couldn’t just ignore it.”

He ran a gloved hand down his face, clearly exhausted, clearly frustrated with everything, including himself. “I’m not trying to make excuses,” He added quickly. “I hate that you thought I forgot. I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t a priority tonight. I’m so sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am.” You stayed quiet. Not because you didn’t have anything to say, but because you had too much to say.

You were hurt. Humiliated. Angry. And worst of all, underneath all of it, you understood. That’s what stung the most. You finally looked up at him, face unreadable, voice flat. “It’s fine, Peter.” That made him flinch more than if you’d screamed at him. “It’s not like you owed me anything, anyway.” You gave him a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. His lips parted like he was going to say something, but no words came.

You stood from the bed slowly, brushing past him toward your dresser. “You should go,” You murmured, not looking back. “You probably have another crisis to swing off to, right?” Peter shook his head so fast. “Y/N—” But you weren’t listening. The ache in your chest was suffocating, louder than his voice. Your own thoughts were clawing at you, stupid, stupid, how could you have thought this would be different—

Then, twip, a sudden tension yanked at your hip, and the world tilted. You stumbled, instinctively reaching out, and slammed straight into a broad, solid chest. One you knew by feel alone. Your hands found purchase on the firm muscle of his biceps, fingers digging in harder than you meant to. “Peter, what—?” You started, breath catching, eyes wide. But he didn’t let you finish. “It’s not okay,” He declared firmly, hands gently steadying you by the waist.

His voice was lower now, almost trembling. “It’s not okay because I meant what I said earlier.” You froze under his touch, blinking up at him, still trying to play catch-up as your heart sprinted. “I’ve been working up the courage to ask you out for months,” He swallowed thickly. “I planned everything, the dinner, the reservation, the speech, even the damn gift.” His voice cracked a little at the end. “I had this whole moment in my head. I was going to tell you how I feel tonight. I was going to tell you everything.”

He took a breath and stepped back just enough to gesture to himself, to the red and blue suit clinging to him like second skin. “This. All of it. I was going to explain. Because I didn’t want to lie to you anymore.” Your eyes darted between his face and his suit, your throat suddenly dry, your fingers still curled against the sleeves at his arms like your body didn’t want to let go, even if your mind hadn’t quite caught up.

“Y/N…” He whispered, eyes locked on yours, like he was searching for something in them, hope, maybe, or forgiveness. “You’re my best friend, but…” That pause. That heartbeat of silence. That sentence that shattered you before he could even finish it. “I don’t want to be just your friend anymore.” Your breath stuttered in your chest. And then— “Y/N, I love you.” He didn’t flinch. Didn’t second-guess. “I’ve always loved you.”

The confession was raw. It wasn’t poetic or perfect, it was real. Said with the intensity of someone who had run through hell all night and still showed up because you were the only thing that mattered. Your lips parted. But no sound came out. All the hurt, the disappointment, the unanswered texts, the hours spent alone tonight, none of it erased what he did, or how you felt.

Yet standing there in front of him, seeing the bruises he wore like a badge for a world that didn’t even know his name, and hearing those words… It made the pieces shift. Not fall back into place, but shift, like maybe they could. He took a cautious step forward, his hands rising again to hold you, not demanding, just asking. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” He repeated again, voice so soft it barely reached over the beat of your pulse. “But I swear, I meant every word. I love you.”

You didn’t answer.

Then, slowly, tentatively, your fingers slid from his arms to his chest, right over his racing heart. “Say it again,” You whispered. Peter blinked, surprised. “Please,” You all but begged, eyes stinging. And so he leaned in, forehead brushing yours, breath fanning against your lips like a promise: “I love you.” Your breath hitched at the words. Three of them. So simple, I love you, yet they cracked something wide open from inside you.

You stared at him, your heart hammering like it might tear itself out of your chest. His hands were still at your waist, thumbs stroking gently, grounding you. And then you surged forward. There was no hesitation, no overthinking, just raw emotion igniting like a match finally struck. Your lips met his in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was desperate, hungry. All the pent-up frustration, the hurt, the longing, the unspoken tension between you exploding into that one moment.

Your hands flew up to tangle in his curls as his mouth moved against yours like he’d been waiting for this, aching for this. Peter groaned softly, the sound muffled as your bodies pressed together, flush with heat. His arms wrapped fully around your waist, holding you to him like you might vanish. You felt the hard muscle beneath the suit, the way his chest heaved as your kiss deepened, mouths moving in perfect sync like you’d been made for each other.

You gasped softly as he walked you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed, forcing you to lay down as he followed hovering above you, mouth never leaving yours, cradling your face in both hands now like you were something precious. Something fragile he’d nearly lost. The kiss softened then, still heated but slower, like he wanted to memorize the shape of your lips with his own.

Your fingers brushed over the bare skin of his jaw, and you shivered from the electricity dancing along your spine. When you finally pulled apart, barely an inch of space between you, your noses brushed, breaths uneven and mingling in the small distance. Peter’s eyes searched yours, glassy and warm and a little wild. “I’ve wanted to do that since freshman year.” He whispered, lips brushing yours as he spoke.

You smiled, thumb tracing the corner of his mouth. “Guess we’re both just as clueless.” He leaned in again, slower this time, like a promise: I’m not going anywhere. And this time, when his lips found yours, it wasn’t rushed. It was everything. Everything you’d waited for. Everything he’d been holding back. It was the kind of kiss that pulled the breath straight from your lungs and made the rest of the world dissolve.

His fingers brushed your jaw with delicate reverence, but the way his mouth moved against yours was anything but tentative. When you parted your lips slightly, whether in a gasp or invitation, you weren’t sure, he didn’t hesitate. His tongue slipped past your lips, tentative at first, like he was asking permission even as your fingers tightened in his curls. The kiss deepened again instantly, a slow heat building in your chest as your tongues met, exploring, tasting, hungry for more.

You let out a soft, involuntary noise against him, half gasp, half moan. You felt him react immediately, one hand sliding from your waist to your lower back, drawing you in closer until your bodies were pressed together from chest to knee. You could feel the tension in him, the restraint, even as he kissed you like he’d been starving and you were the only thing that could satisfy him. His tongue moved with yours, teasing and coaxing, a little clumsy but oh so Peter, earnest, sweet, passionate.

The kiss was messy, hot, addicting. Your fingers tugged gently at the ends of his hair as his mouth slanted over yours again and again, like he couldn’t get enough. And maybe neither could you. After what felt like hours, breathless, lips tingling and kiss-bitten, you finally parted, foreheads pressed together as you both tried to catch your breath. Your fingers were still curled into the fabric of his suit, heart thundering against his chest.

"Kinda leaving me hanging here." Peter huffed, his voice rough with affection as he reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from your flushed face, his knuckles grazing your cheek in a touch so gentle it made your heart stutter. You raised a brow, eyes flicking to the plastic bag now lying abandoned on the edge of your bed. “Is there ice cream in that bag?” Peter blinked like he’d just remembered it existed. “It’s probably melting as we speak.” You grinned, and he smiled back, soft and shy, like he couldn’t believe this was real.

“I love you too, Parker,” You whispered, the words landing between you like a spark catching dry tinder. His whole expression changed, like something sacred had just been handed to him. He leaned down again, lips parted, clearly intent on sealing the moment with another kiss. Only you pressed a finger to his mouth, stopping him with a teasing smirk. “But you’re definitely not off the hook.” His brows lifted in amused surprise.

“I demand a re-do. No interruptions this time. And a lot of Cherry Garcia ice cream to make up for tonight.” Peter laughed, the sound boyish and breathless. “You’ve got yourself a deal, pretty girl.” His voice dropped just slightly, low and fond, as he leaned in close again. “As long as you’ll also do me the honor of being my girlfriend.” You tilted your head, pretending to consider it, even as your lips twitched. “What does that entail?” You asked, faux curiosity laced in your tone.

The smirk that stretched across Peter’s face was positively wicked. His nose brushed against yours as he whispered. “Whatever you want it to.” That was it. You surged up and met his mouth with your own, kissing him again almost as if sealing the deal. His hands cupped your jaw, tilting your head as your mouths moved together with a new urgency, less frantic than before, but somehow deeper. More intimate.

Like now, with everything out in the open, there was nothing left to hold back. His tongue found yours again, slow and sure, as you pulled him closer, your fingers accidentally pressing against the spider emblem on his chest. You gasped when the suit loosened around his torso, revealing the defined lines of his chest and abs. The surprise only held you for a second before you pulled him in again, fingertips skimming eagerly across his skin. The bag with the ice cream lay long forgotten, but you didn’t care. You had something better.

You had him.

And maybe, just maybe, Valentine’s Day wouldn’t be so bad after this.

In fact, it might just become your favorite day of the year.

Thanks for reading! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! Feeling generous? Leave a tip!

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫

Parings → Peter Parker x Avenger! Reader

Warnings → fluff, teasing, language

Summary → You wanted to see Peter's reaction, what he would do if you sat on his lap while he's playing video games.

You’re bored out of your mind. Most people think living in the Avengers compound must be a blast, but they don’t know the half of it. Sure, it’s cool at first, but it gets really annoying when you’re stuck with adults who act like children. Desperate for something to do, you start roaming the halls, hoping to find something—anything—to keep you entertained.

Finally, you find Peter in the living room, plopped down on the couch with his PlayStation controller in hand. He’s been glued to the screen for hours, playing a game with Ned, Harry, and Flash. Their voices echo through the room as they coordinate their moves, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Boys and their games.

You drop down beside him, pulling out your phone and scrolling aimlessly through TikTok. After a while, you stumble upon a famous TikTok trend that immediately catches your attention. The trend shows girlfriends sneaking up on their boyfriends while they’re playing video games, then sitting on their laps to see how they react. The videos are a mix of sweet and hilarious, with boyfriends either pausing the game to focus on their girlfriends or trying to keep playing despite the distraction.

A mischievous grin spreads across your face. You aren’t planning on making a TikTok yourself, but you’re curious to see how Peter would react if you tried this on him.

Peter’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts as he yells through his headset. “No, no, no! NED, GO LEFT! YES, HARRY, KEEP GOING!”

You decide to test it out. Slowly, you start scooting closer to him, inching towards his side until you’re practically leaning against him. He doesn’t seem to notice, his attention fully locked onto the game.

“Shut up, Flash. Let me focus,” Peter grumbles, completely oblivious to what you’re about to do.

You bite back a laugh, deciding to get his attention. “Peter?” You say sweetly, leaning in just a bit more.

“Yes, babe. Shit, shit, shit!” He answers, still not looking at you, his focus unwavering. “YES! What are—”

Before he can finish, you roll your eyes and just go for it, sliding onto his lap and burying your face into his shoulder. Peter tenses up in surprise, and his character on the screen suddenly stops moving.

Flash’s voice rings out through the headset, clearly noticing Peter’s sudden inactivity. “Yo, Parker, what happened? You freeze or something?”

Peter’s grip on the controller loosens as he finally looks down at you, his eyes wide with surprise. “Y/n?” He whispers, his voice softening as he realizes what you’ve done.

You smile against his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’ve been ignoring me,” you tease, your voice muffled by his shirt.

Peter blushes, his cheeks turning that familiar shade of pink. “I wasn’t ignoring you,” he protests, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

Ned’s voice crackles through the headset. “Dude, are you okay? You’re not moving.”

Flash, never missing an opportunity to tease, chimes in. “Let me guess, Y/n’s there, right? She finally got tired of you paying more attention to the game than her?”

Harry’s laugh follows shortly after. “You know, Flash might be right for once. Peter, you’ve got to learn to balance your priorities, man.”

Peter groans, his free hand moving to rest on your hip. “You guys are the worst,” he mutters, but there’s no real annoyance in his tone. He quickly mutes his mic, turning his full attention to you. “You’re really enjoying this, huh?”

You nod, feigning innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Peter laughs softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know,” you reply with a grin, enjoying how he’s totally forgotten about the game now.

His friends’ voices are still audible in the background, even with the mic muted, and you can hear them trying to figure out why Peter suddenly went silent. You press another kiss to his lips, softer this time, and he melts into it, clearly happy to give up on the game for a bit more of your attention.

When you finally pull back, he sighs, looking between you and the screen. “Okay, I should probably unmute and get back to the game before they come up with even more embarrassing theories.”

You slide off his lap and settle beside him on the couch, still grinning. “Go ahead. I’ll just stay here and watch.”

Peter unmuted his mic, but not before giving you one more loving glance. “Sorry about that, guys. Y/n just wanted to say hi.”

Flash’s voice comes through instantly. “Yeah, I bet she did. You’re so whipped, Parker.”

Harry’s laugh follows. “And you know what? I’m jealous.”

Peter rolls his eyes, but you can see the smile on his face as he shakes his head and dives back into the game with his friends. You snuggle up next to him, enjoying the way he reaches out with one hand to hold yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he continues playing.

Maybe Flash and Harry have a point, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[kayywaiii]

15 Minutes ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

'but i can do a lot with 15 minutes ! !'

{peter parker x afab!reader (reader is a fan of spider-man!)} ₍^> . <^₎⟆

summary: after meeting for the first time a few months ago, you’re having a hard time keeping the webbed hero off your mind, even as you’re buried in work from school and the daily bugle. even though you’d both promised to take more breaks, you’d wondered if he was actually taking them as often as he’d said. when he shows up at your window one night, you’re given your answer in the form of a romantic picnic date.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: slight mentions of gore and blood, descriptions of scars + TOOTH ROTTINGG fluff, petnames (baby, sweetheart) tiny bit of spider-man angst [sorry :)]

authors note ! listening to short n' sweet deluxe and thought yk what... that would be a good fic (thank u ms. sabrina) lowkey lost inspiration at the end but then reminded myself i also had a lot of work to do and that gave me motivation to do this instead

hope u enjoy !! ;3

You’d been dedicated in the past, sure. Reaching the top spot in your stem classes wasn’t a faulty mistake, it was a product of pure hard work, and staying up late studying for a test had never been an issue. That was until tonight. 

Notes flooded your small desk area, your laptop buried in the heaps of formulas coating the surface. You murmured to yourself, looking between your neatly organized folder of memos and the stack of notecards sprawled throughout. The juxtaposition undoubtedly left you even more overwhelmed as you tried your best to sort through it all. But it was nothing you couldn’t handle, after all, you’d graduated top of your class from Midtown High with an associates degree, what was college compared to that, right? Right?

A loud groan ripped from your throat, burying your head in your hands and finally regretting that celebratory outing you’d decided to treat yourself with the night prior. The noise only worsened your pounding headache and you chugged water from your Spider-Man themed mug to soothe your pain. You knew you should’ve refused immediately when Gwen first brought it up to the group– and you did attempt to–but when Gwen wanted something done, she usually got what she wanted. Joining your high school’s yearbook– which you totally loved–asking out your first boyfriend–who you totally hated– and even the choice of living off campus. Now you saw where that had gotten you, working at the Daily Bugle for just barely enough and even then you were cutting it close. You furrowed your brows, making a quick note: ‘Never Trust Gwen!!! (ever)’  

There was a blame on your part, however, your ache to get out of your apartment was not completely caused by academic burnout and friendly persuasion. Veering off your calculated path seemed so unlike you, though it became more and more common everyday. You tapped your Spider-Man bobble figure that sat on your desk on the head, watching the toy bob up and down in somewhat agreement.

Against your better judgement, you’d ventured out into the brisk night to maybe catch a glimpse of the webbed hero once more. 

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

“That’s a lot of books.” He’d quipped, months ago, perched on the stone railing of your parent’s complex and stuffing his face with a deli sandwich like he’d been starved for weeks before. His mask, pushed up against the bridge of his nose revealed his face, scars littered across his rough skin. But his likeness, still round with youth and his lips still full with promises to be made. “You’re– young.” You deadpanned, unsettled, setting your pen down on the small garden table you’d sit with your notebooks. “Is… is Spider-Man supposed to be that young?” 

“Not the first thing people usually ask when they meet me…” He’d chuckled and tilted his head. His green coat ruffled in his movement, patches of his logo stretching across the fabric.

“N..No? Then… Sorry– if it’s none of my business… but– how old are you?” You’d asked, bringing a hand to play with your sweater. While you did, you’d seen the red and blue shirt you wore underneath, his logo large in the center of your chest. A blush crossed your face, clearing your throat and pulling your sweater tighter over your front. Whether or not his smile widened because of the shirt or the question you didn’t know. It made it hard to meet the large eyes on his suit. “As much as I’d love to tell you that, any info about me gotta stay top secret. You know, top secret identity and all.” He’d put a finger over his mouth, tightening the lock and flicking the key. Courage sprouted deep in your stomach watching him speak so casually to you like you’d been friends for years before this. Or maybe it was the cool weather lowering your self consciousness. “Any info… except that you really like sandwiches, yeah?” You’d shyly retorted.

He let out a laugh, one that made him throw his head back and his shoulders shake. You didn’t know you could be funny like that, like throw your head back kind of funny. The rough yet melodic sound of his laughter made your cheeks heat up and you’d touched them in the cold, winter air. You’d made Spider-Man laugh.

“That secret, you’ll have to take to the grave.” He grinned, pulling his mask back over his face and tossing his sandwich bag into a nearby bin. He watched you for a moment, soft, relaxed breaths showing in labored puffs of white air. “S’little cold out to be studying, hm?” He hops down from the brick, coming closer to you on your garden bench. There’s dirt smudged on his suit, in his hair. Rips line the curve of his chest and down underneath his arm. It’s when he gets closer, studying your area that you notice the large bruise on his lower abdomen. “...Cold? It– helps me focus– and think.” You stumble over your words, managing to pry your eyes away from his injury long enough to finally meet his buggy eyes. They moved with curiosity, as he tilted his head and crouched down in front of you. “You’re blue, did you know that?” He still has his mask on, but you can see the fabric ripple with a smile. One that’s negotiated peace between neighbors and eased traffic. And he’d looked no older than 17. “You take breaks often?” He asks, his words softer, kinder, reminiscent of a concerned hero. He takes your fingers in his, his eyes focused on the hue of them. “Breaks?” You cleared your throat, turning your face to hide the pink that now spread across it. A chuckle escaped from his mouth.

“Yeah, breaks. It gets cold out here, mhm? You gotta take breaks– or you’ll… wear yourself out.” It was you now that chuckled, looking down at your joined hands. “Rich coming from you, Spider-Man.” He smiled at you, though his next words came out in a tired sigh. “Unfourtenly, sweetheart, Spider-Man doesn’t get breaks.” 

“Everyone needs breaks.” You counter. His hand slips from yours and you shiver at the feeling. The webbed hero rises from his position in front of you, stretching and letting out a short scoff. “Then you should take them.” He flicks your nose before turning away and checking the large chunky web shooters on his wrist. “Okay. But I…only will if you will.” You get up from your seat, stepping closer to him. You internally groaned, cursing yourself out and listing out all the reasons why you should not get involved with Spider-Man. And number one on that list was your need to keep focus, to bring your eyes to the goal and let them stay there. No veering for you.

But when Spider-Man looks back at you, his eyes squinting with confusion, you can’t help but hope he’ll take the offer. You swallow, shrinking down from your confident stance. “I just…” You trail off, playing with your fingers. “...hate to see– someone I admire so much– suffering.” He lets out a laugh. You’d made him laugh again. “Is that so?” He turns towards you again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, then. We’ll promise.” 

You tried so hard not to smile so hard at that, a tiny victory for you. 

“30 minute break?” You ask.

“Mm-mm, 10.”  

“10?” You furrow your brows.

“A lot can happen in 10 minutes, y’know. People could get hurt.” He comes to a stand directly in front of you, your eyes trained on anything but the rip in his suit. “Think of it this way, then. Pick a time for me, that way… you'll be helping someone.” You offer, pointing to yourself. Spider-Man scoffs, but looks away as if in thought. “15 minutes. That sound good?” He puts his hands on his hips, leaning in towards you and tilting his head. “We’ll work on it.” You smiled.

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

It was easier 8 months ago, when you weren’t moved into a new apartment, surrounded by an overwhelming amount of new people and an even bigger amount of work. It was easier to take a break when you knew you hadn’t had that much to come back to. Now, you sighed, looking over the heaps of work you still had to complete, all alongside your shitty job too. Looking for the webbed hero every time you walked to work eased the turmoil curling deep in your stomach, at least for a bit before you were thrown back into the wolves.  You knew he’d seen you too, when he’d swing past on your street more often, even helping you move your boxes up to your new complex that didn’t offer an elevator. You’d chat for a moment, inching closer to that line, the one you’d created in your head. The one that you both are shoved towards more and more with every glance, every chuckle, every touch gone far too long to constitute as casual. And then duty calls, ripping him away from you like picking flowers off a vine, your intimate, ‘just for us’ bubble suddenly burst. You’d take your 15 minute break every hour just to feel a little closer to him every time he had to run off, only for you to take 30 more later to patch him up after a rough fight. But you chased that feeling, the way his bloodied lips downturned in soft gratitude as you rubbed antiseptic on his wounds. The way he muttered a subtle thank you after you were done, like he didn’t know he didn’t need to, that you’d help him again and again if it meant he’d stay safe. Like he didn’t know you cared for him more than you’ve ever cared for anyone else.

A sudden knock at your fire escape window made you jump, knocking over your mug in the process. You cursed, trying to recover the now wet notes sticking to your desk. You called out to him, “One second!” while walking to the kitchen to rummage for paper towels and a first aid kit. When you finally found them and walked back, he was there again, clicking his knuckles against the glass in the same rhythm he’d done many times before. 

You pushed open your window, grunting at the effort. He sat crouched on your fire escape, clinging to his torn backpack and letting out a blow of air.

 “Hey.” Spider-Man leaned in, his mask pushed up onto his nose bridge. He squeezes a bouquet of flowers in his hands, petals falling from its stems. He sighs at the sight, rubbing the back of his neck.  

“Hey. Slow day?” You smile, looking him over. No bruises, cuts or broken bones and you let out a breath of relief. “You’re not hurt…What are you doing here?” 

“I’m on my break,” He replies, handing you the disheveled flowers. Your breath picks up in your chest and your smile widens as you realize what he’s said. “Your break?” You grin, leaning in through the threshold of your apartment window like his next words were just for you. He had been taking his breaks after all, as you had been. For some reason that made you blush even more.

You looked at the flowers in your hands, a seed of warmth sprouting deep within your stomach as you tried your best to thank him properly. “They’re… uh. It’s hard to keep flowers fully pristine when you’re swinging… so I’m sorry–” 

“No, No… I love them.” You interrupt, clearing your throat and picking at your nails. Slight surprise crosses his features for a moment, but he lets out a chuckle, looking down and shaking his head. “My aunt says… that– I… uh, I’m not allowed to talk about you again unless… I take you out on a real date.” He explains, bringing a hand to play with the zipper on his green coat. He looked away, a blush creeping up his neck. He itched at it, a swallow bobbing in his throat. 

 “So– I… uhm, I brought us sandwiches.” He clears his throat. Your face heats up again but you can’t seem to look away to save yourself from embarrassment. He looked so good, even with his mask still settled firmly on his head. 

“...You want to go on a date with me?” You mutter, smiling. 

“Yeah…I’ll uh– only stay for the 15 minutes– but I just… really wanted to see you.” He admits, a nervous chuckle leaving his lips.  “Is… that okay?” He mumbles, scratching under his mask. 

“Yes. Ehem… I mean, yeah… of course.” You nod, choking over your words like you were still in middle school. When he climbs through your window and stands at his full height you're reminded to fix your own posture, your eyeline at his chin. His soft, tired eyes wander to your room, the posters littering your wall and to your desk, tucked neatly in the corner near your door leading to the kitchen. You blush at the mess, at the papers and notes scattered across your desk and floor. Photos you'd made him pose for shoved messily, half peeking out of your manilla folder, awaiting delivery to your boss at the Daily Bugle.

 “Busy?” He grins, eyes drifting back to you. A chuckle left your lips, setting down the first aid kit on your desk and going to the kitchen to find a vase for your new flowers. When you return you can’t help but internally celebrate at the sight of him in your room. “A little. But I guess I can start my break now, Spider-Man.” His grin softens at that, bringing a hand to cup your face. He forces you to keep your gaze on him, unable to hide the blush creeping up your neck. “...Peter.” He speaks slowly, like he’s afraid something would happen once he spoke that name. You blink, eyes searching his in confusion. “...Sorry?” 

“...It’s Peter,” He clears his throat. “Parker. Peter Parker.” It feels like the room’s closing in, your breath catching so low in your throat and your heart clenching up in surprise at the rare intimacy. “Peter…” You let the name drag out, feeling it on your lips. His name felt incredibly warm and a smile crossed your lips as you spoke it again. He watched them, clearing his throat, letting his hands drop from your cheeks, and shifting uncomfortably. Like the room was too hot. “I just… thought if we’re gonna… you know– you should… know my name.” He explained, your hands wandering. Your touch was soft, gentle, as you laced your fingers through his. “...So, sandwiches?” You grin.

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

He stood in front of you, delicate focus in his lips as he lit candles around you. You lounged on your bed comforter–now on the floor– grapes from your kitchen in bowls in between you both. His eyebrows cinched in concentration as he laid out your sandwiches before you both and poured your favorite soda into your Spider-Man mug. He fixed his work, moving it back and forth and stepping back to inspect his work. “Peter… Come sit down, it’s perfect, I promise.” You assured, patting the spot next to you. “I know… I just–” You give him a look, tilting your head. He gives you a tight lipped grin, hands placed firmly on his hips. “Alright.” 

“Are you nervous?” You raise an eyebrow, the smell of your candles wafting around the room. He watched you for a moment before tucking his lips in his mouth and shaking his head. “No… No, of course not.” He insisted, before bringing his eyes to yours. You hear his breath catch in his throat and you pray you don’t have something on your face. “Are you.?” He asks after a moment. You smile, looking at the array in front of you and shaking your head. “Why are you so jumpy, then?” You inquire, nudging his arm. He chuckles softly, catching your hand and playing with your rings.

“To be completely honest?” He sucks in a breath, face already red and a strong refusal to look at you. “I really want to kiss you tonight.” It’s your breath that hitches now, eyes looking over him like he’d take it back… like it was some sick joke. “You do?” You can’t help but crack a dorky smile. “We only have 15 minutes– we shouldn’t let our time go for nothing.” You hurriedly spit out, cringing in sheer embarrassment at your eagerness. He laughs as you cringe at yourself, a light layer of red on his face too. “You’re right. Wouldn't want to waste time.” He grinned, ripping off his mask and throwing it on your bed. And you’re met with pools of warm brown eyes blinking back at you, so big and still full of life. And his hair, so strikingly pretty. The curls you’d only ever seen poking out from under his disguise so defined and yet uneven like he’d cut them in his own bathroom mirror.

Your eyes snap back down, face heating up like you’d seen him completely naked. “Oh.” You spoke.

“Oh?” A smile crosses his face as he looks away. “I thought I was being jumpy tonight.” Peter teased, pulling a quiet laugh out of you. You find the courage to look back to his face, a soft dopey grin plastered on your lips as you take him in again. Small cuts scattered under his mask too and a cute tan line running from where’d he’d have it pushed up. You feel his rough hands slip right under your ear, cradling your neck and swiping his thumb lightly over your cheek. His touch feels so warm, like freshly dried laundry that you could just fall asleep in. “Is… it okay if I–” 

 Before he can even finish his sentence, you’d pressed your lips to his, hurriedly and messy. It’d only felt like a second before you’d pulled away, heart thumping like you’d just won an olympic race. Adrenaline and nervousness has you tapping your hands on your thighs and looking away from him. Instead you focus on your flower printed bed comforter, hoping he didn’t completely hate it. “Oh.” He laughs, eyes squinting in humility. “Oh?” You swallow, feeling all your worst wishes coming true. And then it hits you. “OH– oh! I’m so sorry… did… did you want to do it first?” He grins, nodding his head. “Ah!” You clenched your eyes shut, a quiet huff of amusement leaving your lips. “Okay, pretend it never happened. Go on, promise, won’t do it again.”

A beat goes by and a soft breath of laughter before his lips are on yours again, a soft groan leaving both your lips. It’s slower now, more candid as he tilts his head to slip his tongue past your lips. You grab his coat, bringing him closer as he grabs more handfuls of your hair. That flower of warmth sprouts once more, spreading throughout your body, up your arms and into your head, making you lightheaded. It feels like you’re about to pass out as he uses one hand to pull you over onto his lap. Peter pulls you impossibly close, lifting your head for better access as he presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck. Your hands leave his jacket, trailing from his chest up to his neck and then to the back of his head, fisting his brown curls and anything else you could find purchase on.

An alarm in the room went off somewhere, though you were too lost in the fog of your own beating heart to realize the sound. It’s only when he groans and pulls away is when you open your eyes, bringing your hand to brush where his lips had been. He’s checking his phone, eyebrows furrowed. “Sorry baby, break’s over.” Peter sighs, leading your face to his once more and pecking your lips. “I’m sorry, I’ll be back later, promise.” He grins, tugging his mask back on and you’re too dazed to do anything but nod. 

You only come to once he’s swung away, looking at the array before you and blowing out candles one by one. You knew this was your life now, one of panicked kisses before he was whisked away again and one of bloody touches after a specifically brutal fight. One of date nights on roof tops and game nights cut short. A smile crossed your face, as you brought a hand to where his hands had touched your hair. But you also knew his promised 15 minutes would be the most cherished moment of your stressful days. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

[angie-likes-to-art]

Like a Hero

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader Summary: "Help me I’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second" Word Count: 1779 Warnings: unwanted advances (not from Peter), alcohol mention (characters are of age), bit of angst A/N: I have ideas for a part 2 of this if anyone is interested heheh

Masterlist

“C’mon babe, lemme get you a drink,” the man standing next to you at the bar insisted with slightly slurred words as he leaned in closer.

“I already told you, I have a boyfriend,” you lied through your teeth and turned away from him on your barstool. You didn’t care if he believed you or not, you just hoped he would back off. When your roommate convinced you to come to some shitty campus bar, you thought she’d actually hang out with you instead of leaving you alone at the bar. You considered leaving as you had no interest in hooking up with some dude who’d leave you high and dry and ditch you in the morning, but the other half of you wanted to make sure your roommate stayed safe. You didn’t know her too well as the two of you just got settled into the new dorm and were preparing for the upcoming semester, but you’d hope she’d do the same for you; girl code and all.

“And here you are, sitting alone,” you turned back around to see him giving you a cocky look, you know you didn’t have to prove anything to him but being neglected by your roommate, the overzealous expression he wore, and the alcohol in your system made you see red.

“And here you are, continuing to hit on someone in a relationship and not taking a hint to back off,” you exploded at him, slamming the drink you were nursing on the bartop and turning away again before whipping back, “and not that it’s any of your business, but he is here,” you regretted the words as they left your mouth, knowing you were actively digging yourself a grave.

“Oh, I’d love to meet him,” he leaned in once again, you knew he was enjoying this and was waiting to see you fumble, and you wanted so badly to wipe that smirk off his face. You quickly tried to form a plan or an excusable defense in your head, while he crossed his arms over his chest, seemingly getting off on your misfortune. You were about to give up when a tall brunette in an olive green jacket caught your eye, you recognized him from the photography class you took a while back, you remember him mostly keeping to himself, occasionally piping up during critique and actually giving really good advice. Shit, what was his name?

“Baby, there you are, I was just about to look for you,” you place a hand on his shoulder to get his attention and give him a quick pleading look to say please go with me on this.

“Sorry, the line for the bathroom was crazy, apparently some dudes started a fight in there,” he responded, giving you a quick nod of understanding while stepping closer and between you and the other guy, whose face fell in dejection.

“We should dance,” you suggested, running your hands across your “boyfriend’s” chest, trying to sell the relationship thing without pushing it too far and making him uncomfortable, “I’m being hit on by creeps over here,” you complained pointedly at the man still watching the interaction.

“Well, um,” he cleared his throat and swallowed harshly, making you back off a bit to calm his nerves but he rested his hands on your waist and kept you in place, “well, we can’t have that,” he pulled you in closer before grabbing your hands and leading you away from the bar. Your stomach erupted in butterflies and your mind went dizzy making you forget about the creep that started this and willingly followed you wherever he took you. You came back to your scenes when he stopped and turned back to you with a concerned look.

“I’m sorry about that, the dude wouldn’t drop it and I just wanted to get away from him,” you admitted, keeping your eyes trained on where your hands were still intertwined.

“No, no, it's fine, I just-” he started before being interrupted by your drunk roommate hanging off of an equally wasted guy.

“Oh, he’s cute,” you were sure that was supposed to be a whisper, “I just wanted to tell you, we're headed out,” she blew you an overdramatic kiss before making her way back to your dorm. 

“Do you-” “Um, I-” you spoke at the same time and noticed a tinge of pink on his cheeks.

“Go ahead,” he encouraged while running a hand through his perfectly messy hair.

“Do you wanna get out of here? Go somewhere quieter?” you suggested, worrying into your bottom lip.

“Yeah,” he smiled down at you, “yeah I’d like that,”

“Just not my place,” you referred to your roommate stumbling out of the building, you made a note in your head to text her later tonight to make sure she’s safe.

“That’s fair, I think there's a pizza place that stays open pretty late near here,” he checked the time on his phone, a little past midnight. You nodded as he took your hand again and led you to the door, you can tell he was visibly more relaxed once the cool night air hit his face. 

“It’s like a 10 minute walk this way, if that’s okay?” he suggested, gesturing the way toward campus. 

“Yeah, I live that way anyway,” you think about reaching for his hand again, but the sober part of your brain reminds you that you don’t actually know this guy, you don’t even remember his name, “were you there with anyone?” you start to conduct an investigation.

“Yeah, my buddy, Harry had just left before you grabbed me, he was mad that they didn’t have some top shelf liquor or something,” he laughed at the recollection, “I was heading out too.”

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t take you away from your girlfriend or anything,” you’d like to think you were being subtle, but you were definitely not sober enough to not be totally obvious with your questioning.

“Nope, no girlfriend, besides you now,” he joked, which made your cheeks heat up, “I’m Peter, by the way.” Ohhh that was his name, he definitely knew you were interrogating him now.

You told him your name too, and surprisingly he remembered your face from the photo class. He told you that he’s a photojournalism major, you shared yours as well and talked about how school was going for both of you. You learned that he was living in Queens with his aunt and commuting to Manhattan for classes, he told you that he plans on moving in with Harry eventually but doesn’t really want to live in whatever bougie penthouse Harry wants to buy. (His friend Harry is apparently super wealthy.) You told him that you were living in the dorms since you were lucky enough to get a hefty scholarship to Empire State University that promised housing so you didn’t have to rent an apartment in Manhattan.

Once you got to the pizza place, it was pretty packed with a bunch of other college students hungry from a night out, luckily they got your slices out to you pretty fast.

“I got it, for saving me,” you lightly swatted Peter’s hands away when he tried to pay for the slices. “You're my hero, like Spider-Man or something,” you joked, hoping to flatter him, but when you looked back at him, after handing the cashier your card, you were just met with wide eyes and his bright red face.

“Heh, it was nothing like that, it was no problem,” he laughed nervously, brushing you off, “I was just trying to find someone to buy me pizza.” He joked back and you couldn’t help but chuckle too, half because it was funny and half that you were glad you didn’t embarrass him too much with the hero comment. 

“Let’s sit outside, it's hot in here.” Peter leads you outside with his free hand on the small of your back. You both sat on the curb and ate your pizza, you didn’t realize how hungry you were until you took the first bite, no wonder this place was packed, greasy pizza really hits the spot after a long night. 

Once you were both done scarfing down your food, Peter grabbed your empty paper plate from you and set them to the side. You giggled when he turned back and you saw a smear of pizza sauce on the side of his mouth. 

“What?” he laughed back, “Do I have something on my face?” He wiped the wrong side of his face with his hand.

“Yeah, come here,” you scooted closer to him, and swiped your thumb across his cheek to clean the sauce up, when you look up from his mouth to his eyes, he’s looking at yours. Before he can shy away, you give him a sweet smile. “Thank you again.” 

“Anytime,” he smiled back, that smile must have had a gravitational pull because you were leaning in as soon as it spread across his face.

Suddenly he sat up at attention, and that smile dropped from his face, like he had heard something.

“You okay?” you were genuinely concerned, you thought you were picking up good signals. You had significantly sobered up from the walk and the pizza and weren't nearly as buzzed as you were an hour ago, but maybe your judgement was still a bit skewed.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” He didn’t sound all that convinced, “I just, I have to go.” He stands up abruptly, but still offers a hand to help you up. You hesitantly take it and let him pull you up.

“Are you sure?” You try to search his face for anything that says he was uncomfortable, or you crossed a boundary, anything to explain the sudden shift.

“Yeah, I am so sorry to leave like this,” Peter looks you in the eyes, and you can see he means it, “I’m really, really sorry, I just have to go,” he pulls his wallet from his pocket and hands you a twenty dollar bill, “Here, for a taxi, please get home safe.” 

Before you can respond or even nod, he runs off to the alley next to the pizza place, leaving you standing on the curb confused and alone. Only left with the bill he stuffed into your hand and the replayed, hurried apologies he was giving you, contrasting the easy laughter and connection you felt just moments before. With a sigh, you crumpled the bill and turned toward the street, away from the warm glow of the pizza place and chatter of people winding down for the night that seemed to mock how suddenly cold you felt.

[dragqueenstarscream]

man, i don't usually talk about bumblebee, but

imagine bumblebee having a difficult time recharging and coming to you for help. you join him in the garage, concerned for this poor bot. he looks somewhere between embarrassed and exhausted, optics downturned, his antennae pinned back like a sad puppy's ears. he's beeping something at you, and while outsiders might not know what he's doing, you've learned to decipher what he's trying to say by now.

grabbing a blanket to make yourself more comfortable in the cold garage, you take a seat on the hard linoleum. bumblebee curls up in the fetal position with his head on your lap. the moment his head rests on your thighs, you hear him exvent deeply, something like a relaxed sigh.

you already know how to help him relax by now. you smile as you start gently massaging his head, neck, and shoulder plating, your tiny fingers reaching spots between his seams which his thicker fingers just can't. you can always tell when you've hit a good spot by his happy little trills. as you work, you hum to him a sappy love song he plays to you on his radio whenever the two of you drive together. you have a suspicion that it's one of his favorites; his excited beeping confirms your suspicion. every once in a while, between rubbing the dust from his head vents and tracing your thumbs along his cheeks, you sneak a hand up and playfully toy with his antennae. this usually gets you a surprised crackle of static, followed by a flurry of flustered beeps. you always laugh and apologize with a kiss.

how long it takes for bumblebee to enter recharge depends on the day. sometimes it's a minute or two, sometimes it's half an hour. but either way, eventually, his optics offline, his vents whirring softly in what can only be called robotic snoring. you're careful to work yourself out from under him without letting his head thunk against the linoleum and possibly wake him up. once you're certain that he's in recharge, you gently kiss him on the cheek one more time and drape the blanket you were wearing over his still form. it's not big enough to cover him, but having something of yours there with him soothes him if he emerges from recharge after a nightmare. besides, the sight of a giant robot tucked under a blanket is cuter than words can say.

with one last whisper of, "goodnight, bumblebee. i love you," you close the garage door behind you and go to bed, ready to rejoin him in the morning.

[creamecafe]

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐂𝐔!𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐂𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: MCU!Peter Parker x GN!Reader (No pronouns used)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none just fluff and suggestive themes but nothing explicit, mostly allusions.

Before finding out he's Spider-Man

Sweetest boyfriend to exist

He loves you crazy much

Golden retriever vibes (More like Brown Retriever because of his hair but you get the point)

Doesn't know what to do with PDA

You guys could be dating for a month or a year and he still doesn't know whether to hold your hand or put your hand around your waist

Loves building Legos with you

Study dates are a must have for him

After finding out he's Spider-Man

Finding out he was Spider-Man was a huge roller coaster

I mean him hiding a secret from you that he's Spider-Man? Not a chance in the world could he cover it up.

The poor boy couldn't even hide that he had the hugest crush on you since Kindergarten

Aunt May loves you. Like a lot

She would let you sleep over if you had no place to go.

Gives you food, drives you and Peter around, basically treating you like she would treat Peter

Jokes about you and Peter doing something naughty

"Oh I'm so sorry, I should've knocked. What are you guys up to?"

"Hi Aunt May, we're just studying

"Oh alright, if you're going to be "studying", make sure you use protection. I could go to the store right now to get you some condoms."

"Aunt May!"

Being awesome friends with Ned, MJ, and Betty (Flash tries to act like a friend but is only nice to Peter because your dating him)

Flash would hit on you even though you gave multiple signs that your not interested in him

Peter just gets worried that he's not enough for you.

He's insecure of how much money he has, if your bored of him, etc.

But you always tell him you love him and don't care how much he has

Sharing playlists with him on Spotify is love language to him (No premium, but that's ok because you guys have memorized the ads to keep you guys entertained)

Upside down kisses makes him weak (or is it the blood rushing to his head when's he upside down?)

Swings around New York with you to help ease stress or to spend time with you

Talks about you a lot to the Avengers and especially Tony

Could never forgive himself if you ever got hurt or Worse

But you assure him nothing will happen to you

He's such a aftercare sweetie

Gives you water, snacks and hugging you close

Praises you saying you did a good job and if he did anything that you didn't like or what he could do better

Loves discussing about the future with you

Navigation | Request Guidelines | Who I Write for | Wattpad | A03 | Youtube Channel | Spotify Playlists

[seduzist]

pov: you’re dating loser!peter parker

pairing: loser! peter x reader

warnings: none!! just pure fluff.

[peachyparkerr]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ i’d find you in every universe

🕷️ peter parker

the multiverse is unpredictable. and maybe you should stay away from each other. spider-man wants to, needs to, save the world. or at the very least, the streets of new york. he’s a hero and people love him for that. but you? you wonder who’s taking care of peter parker. he thinks you don’t know he spends his nights on your fire escape while you sleep. he forgets that at the end of day you wouldn’t want to live in a world he wasn’t in. maybe it’s doomed. but you don’t need to save the world. you just need him. timelines, earths, universes, they’re all nothing to him, to you, without the other.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚

note: let’s not forget my roots people. idk what this is but wanted to make a moodboard and he was on my mind!

[lucky-whispers]

I imagine being in twisted wonderland and asking for some sort of cultural dish, and then it'd just taste *Wong*... Like- it's twisted wonderland. It's now yuu's world, so why would it taste the same? Like the same way certain dishes are prepared differently regionally, it would probably have different ingredients right?

Yuu, randomly one day: "You know what I miss the most? Tamales. I really want tamales."

Ace and Deuce, wondering what the fuck they are going on about: "Yuu...just go buy some."

Yuu, about to cry: "Really?"

*Cue both boys immediately finding tamales for Yuu the next day*

Yuu, about to take a bite: "I don't know what to say, I haven't had some in so long,- oh."

Deuce: "What's wrong Yuu?"

Yuu, crying because this doesn't taste at all like home:

Ace: "Did you grab the wrong thing??"

Deuce: "I don't know! I just asked the worker for tamales and she handed me these!"

Idk just a random thought

[talaok]

Do you miss me?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!f!reader

Summary: you and Petey are doing long distance since he's on a mission with the rest of the Avengers, only one day, your longing for him gets to be too much and you decide to send him a little something. How were you supposed to know he was having a meeting with the rest of the team?

warnings: sending nudes, sub!Peter (like very much so), smut| video-call sex, masturbation (f and m), pet names for the spiderboy (goodboy, baby, honey...), and praising.

a/n: my semestral peter fic is here loves. sometimes a girl just needs to tell peter parker he's a good boy, what can i say. (btw i think this was like a trend on tiktok a while back no?)

this is a part of this series but it can be read alone

He could feel his heart beating a mile a minute and his whole face turning red as he rushed to his room.

fuckfuckfuckfuck-shit

The picture was still open on his phone, menacingly perfect- so fucking pretty and-

He'd managed to shut the door and sit on the bed that you were already video calling him.

"you know it's not very polite not to reply when a girl send you a picture of her boobs"

"I-I-" he could only stutter as you smiled at him from his screen

God, you looked pretty...

"I'm kidding baby" You couldn't help but laugh

He was still trying to recover, but after a moment, he finally managed to talk

"I- I was with the others, w-we were having a meeting"

"o-oh" you stuttered before a laugh escaped you, the whole scene comically playing in your head

"Y-your dad was right next to me"

"Oh my god this is the funniest thing ever"

"It's really not"

You feigned a pout, looking at him all sweet

"You'd rather I'd not sent the picture?"

He didn't even have to think about it

"n-no of course I w-wanted to see the picture I-"

"Do you miss me?" you interrupted him

"yes" he rushed to say- god you had no idea how much he missed you "I-I miss you a lot"

"yeah?" you asked again, your voice getting sultrier "You miss my tits too?"

"Y-Y/n-" his voice got stuck in his throat, his cock painfully hard already

"'s just a question Peter"

he glanced at the door to check if it was closed before answering.

"Y-yeah, I-I really miss your boobs"

You grinned proudly at that, propping yourself further up the bed

"You'd like to see them right now?"

fuck me

Peter had never done anything like this, and to be quite honest, he didn't think he ever would.

"Y-yes" he blurted out without thinking "I-if you want to, of course"

You stifled a laugh as you got rid of your tank top

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to baby"

But Peter wasn't really listening anymore, his eyes had fallen to your tits, and his brain... well his brain had kind of stopped working.

You laughed, watching his eyes widen and his cheeks grow even redder.

"you still with me baby?"

"y-yeah s-sorry you just- you're so beautiful"

A smirk pulled at your lips

"thank you" you murmured, laying down on the bed and placing your phone so he could see both your naked torso and face.

You only needed to reach for your left boob and massage it as you bit down on your lip to elicit a strangled "fuck" from him.

"You're hard baby?"

He almost felt the urge to laugh. Of course he was fucking hard- rock fucking hard.

He could only manage a nod,

"show me" you ordered softly.

He hesitated for just about a second before doing as told.

He was nothing if not obedient when it came to you.

The camera flipped to the other side, and you were now suddenly seeing Peter's lap and part of the bed he sat on.

There was a big prominent tent right on his crotch, and your mouth watered in anticipation as he undid his zipper and hurriedly took his cock out.

"mhh" you hummed appreciatively.

His dick was red and angry, already leaking at the very tip.

"You've got such a perfect cock, honey"

You watched his dick twitch at the compliment

"I want to see your face too baby," you spoke softly, your fingers now playing with your left nipple

"Y-yes" you heard his excited voice mumble as he propped his phone on one of the pillows and turned the camera back so he could sit on the bed and be perfectly visible.

"that's better" you smiled, taking in his needy eyes and even needier cock.

"Ca- can I touch it?"

A huge grin appeared on your face at his words... you'd taught him so well.

"Yes honey, but you don't come until I say so, alright?"

An exited breath left his mouth as he reassured you

"Yes-yes I won't- thank you"

And so you nodded, murmuring a soft "go on", and his hand was wrapped around his dick and the cutest, most desperate little moans started spilling from his mouth.

"slow, baby, go slow" you had to remind him as your own hand traveled south, your pointer and middle finger finding your clit as you observed your boyfriend stare at you through the screen as he frantically fucked his own fist.

Your bottom lip was caged between your teeth as your middle and ring fingers slowly found their way inside you, but still, a soft moan couldn't help but escape.

"a-are you...?"

Peter had only now noticed, having been enthralled by... well by your tits all this time.

"yes honey, I'm touching myself too"

A mindless whimper climbed up his throat just at the image.

"c-can I- please- can I see?"

that little word murmured so pleadingly only heightened the pleasure of your fingers, which were now softly thrusting in and out of you, curling up to that soft part of you each time.

"See what?" you taunted, your voice now a little breathless.

Oh, this was torture.

Having to see and hear what you were doing without actually being able to see was much more than Peter could take.

"Please y/n"

"You want to see my pussy, baby? 's that it?"

Jesus Christ, it was a miracle he hadn't busted his load right there.

"mh-mh" he nodded frantically

"ask nicely honey"

He didn't need to be told twice

"I- Please Y/n, can I- can I see your pussy?"

You smiled wide as, without answering, you moved your phone to capture your fingers going in and out of your pussy as best as you could.

The moan he let out was one of a starved men

"You like what you see?" you teased, giggling softly.

"f-fuck-- yeah"

"I wish you were here baby-" you moaned, your fingers speeding up "putting that pretty mouth of yours to good use- or- or filling me up with your cock"

The strangled whimpers and whines fleeing Peter's parted mouth were getting louder and needier each passing second

"You're supposed to say something too babyboy" you taunted him, your voice laced with the bliss of your impending orgasm.

"'m s-sorry" he mumbled "I-I'm not good at this- I-"

"'s ok honey" you cooed "Just tell me what you'd be doing right now- if you were here with me"

You'd switched the camera so your face was in the shot, but you'd angled it higher so your work on your pussy was still visible.

"shit" you heard him cry.

You looked straight out of a dream

"not yet baby, don't come yet" you murmured "tell me"

"I-I" he closed his eyes, trying to focus as his cock begged to burst "I'd want to taste you- to- to get on my knees between your thighs and m-make you come with my tongue"

that earned him a very loud moan on your part

"yeah?"

"yes" he nodded, wanting nothing but to please you

"you're such a good boy honey"

as always, the pet name, made him melt right to the ground and made his cock twitch dangerously early.

"y/n, please"

"'s ok baby-'s ok" you promised "You wanna come?"

"yes- yes please"

his voice was barely a whisper, he sounded almost on the verge of crying

"come with me baby yeah?"

"y-yeah- yeah"

You matched your pace with his furious one, your vision starting to get all fuzzy from the pleasure

"just like that baby-so good- fuck" you moaned, biting your lips as you imagined it was his fingers inside of you, that he was there with you "'m coming- come with me, honey- come with m-"

Your sentence was interrupted by your own moan as bliss took over your whole body, your orgasm spreading like wildfire, until you were curling your toes and crying into the empty room like a madwoman.

While Peter... well Peter's cock had given up the very second you had even hinted at coming. His spent had stained his hand and his pants as he uncaringly tugged at his dick, listening to the beautiful sounds coming out of your mouth.

It took a moment before either of you came back to earth- and it was finally you, who smiled as you sat up, watching your boyfriend catch his breath and wishing you could be there with him to clean him off with your tongue- that spoke first.

"Baby?" you called

He shook his head as if getting out of a trance before he took the phone still propped up on the pillow until you could only see his face- his blissed-out, flushed, beautiful face.

"The mission's tonight?"

"yes" he nodded, still clearly out of it.

"you'll call me after?"

"Of-of course"

You smiled, getting a good look at him as a gentle grin split his lips.

"Good, be careful spidey"

"I-I will" he nodded

"Goodbye baby"

"bye y/n"

And just like that, he was alone, his own come all over him, the fucking Avengers (one of which was your dad) in the other room probably waiting on an explanation as to why he suddenly had different pants on and what was it that he'd received on his phone that had made him get out of the meeting room in such a hurry.

Oh and... he also had to pray that none of the sounds you'd both made could be heard from outside

[inknopewetrust]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰. 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

𝐍𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐈.

𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 [𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬]

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 | 𝟎𝟏 | 𝟎𝟐 | 𝟎𝟑 | 𝟎𝟒 | 𝟎𝟓 | 𝟎𝟔 | 𝟎𝟕 | 𝟎𝟖

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 [𝟏𝟖+].

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐬

𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐱 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭.

𝐀 𝐒𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐀 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞

𝐒𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 “𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮” 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲—𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡.

𝐀 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬

𝐀 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 [𝟏𝟔+].

𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐤 [𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐌𝐚𝐧]

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐲… 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?

𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐞

𝐀𝐬 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐄𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝’𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐬. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩 𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒.𝐇.𝐈.𝐄.𝐋.𝐃 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬. 

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 [𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐩𝐚𝐰]

𝐓𝐨 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫? 𝐈𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭.

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛*

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → SMUT!!! 18+, unprotected sex (don't do it)

Summary → You and Peter joined the mile high club.

You were excited for this Europe trip. Everyone in school had been buzzing about it for weeks. Europe was romantic, and you were looking forward to spending time with Peter in such a beautiful place. What you weren’t expecting, however, was for Mr. Harrington to mess with your seating arrangements.

Peter was supposed to sit beside you, but instead, Mr. Harrington placed him next to Ned. That left you beside MJ. Ned, being the lovable goof he was, concocted some ridiculous excuse about a lady wearing heavy perfume that was giving Peter an allergic reaction. Before anyone could react, Mr. Harrington caught wind of it and summoned Peter to sit next to him.

Now you and Peter were stuck texting back and forth, Peter more annoyed than you.

Peter: Please baby 🥺

You smirked down at your phone, already knowing where this conversation was headed.

You: Nope

Peter: But I’m so hard right now 😭

You rolled your eyes. How did he manage to get himself turned on while sitting next to Mr. Harrington, of all people?

You: That’s your fault. And how are you hard sitting next to Mr. Harrington? 😑

Peter: He’s asleep, no one’s going to notice. Baby, please, I’m begging you. I’ll make it up to you later.

You: The bathroom is full of germs, Peter. Ew.

Peter: Come onnnn, please, please, please, please…

You shook your head, your finger hovering over the screen.

You: Wait till we reach the hotel.

Peter: That’s hours from now! I’m gonna burst! Do you want me to walk around with this the whole time?

You: Oh my god, Peter. Fine, I’m going. Knock in five minutes.

Peter: YES! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

You: You owe me.

With a sigh, you got up from your seat, MJ raising a brow as she noticed you moving. “Where are you going?” She asked, amusement laced in her voice.

“To—um, to the bathroom,” you stammered, trying not to give too much away. She eyed you for a second, clearly not buying it, but then just shrugged and went back to her book.

You made your way to the small, cramped airplane bathroom, feeling a bit ridiculous but also amused by how desperate Peter had become. You slipped inside and waited. Exactly a minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“Uh, it’s occupied.”

“Babe, it’s me.” Peter’s whisper came from behind the door.

You rolled your eyes, recognizing his voice immediately. He couldn't even wait five minutes. You sighed, unlocking the door and letting him in. He slipped inside quickly, barely giving you room to breathe. “You couldn’t wait a bit longer?” You teased, crossing your arms over your chest.

Peter, with his big, brown, pleading eyes, stared down at you. “Sorry, but look at me,” he muttered, gesturing to the very obvious bulge in his pants.

You glanced down, and yup, there he was, hard and straining against the fabric. This boy gets turned on so easily, sometimes it baffled you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, your hands already reaching for his belt to unbuckle it, figuring a quick solution would do the trick. But before you could go any further, Peter grabbed your hands, stopping you.

“What are you doing?” He asked, sounding surprised.

“Uh, giving you head?” You replied, confused by his hesitation.

Peter’s face flushed a deep red, his usual shyness kicking in at the worst possible time. “I-I wanted to be in you…” he mumbled, barely able to meet your eyes.

You stared at him, amused. How could he blush now, in the middle of this? “Stop blushing,” you scolded, pulling him down into a heated kiss. His lips were soft and eager against yours, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you closer. The cramped space didn’t leave much room, but the kiss quickly deepened, both of you getting lost in the moment.

Thank goodness you were wearing a skirt today. Peter’s hands slipped under the fabric, his fingers grazing the hem of your panties. You could feel his breath hitch as his hand brushed over you, his fingers teasing the edge.

“Peter,” you moaned softly, feeling him hard one against your thigh. The way he was fumbling slightly, his usual confidence mixed with desperation, made you ache for him.

He quickly pulled himself out, his hard cock now free. “Turn around,” he whispered, his voice deep and raspy. You did as he asked, turning to face the mirror and gripping the sink counter for support.

Peter pulled your panties to the side, his hand running along your slick entrance before positioning himself. With one swift motion, he pushed inside you from behind, both of you letting out soft, stifled moans at the sensation.

“Fuck,” Peter groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he started to move. The small space only amplified the intimacy, the way his body pressed against yours, the sound of your combined breathing echoing in the tiny bathroom.

You bit your lip, trying to stay quiet as his pace quickened. “Peter…” you whimpered, your voice breathy. You could feel every inch of him, the way he filled you, the way his hips snapped against yours.

His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer to him as he thrust into you. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he murmured against your ear, his lips brushing the side of your neck. His other hand slid down to your clit, rubbing gentle circles as he continued to move inside you, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

You let out a another whimper, your walls clenching around him as you felt the pressure building. “Peter, I’m close…” you moaned, your grip on the sink tightening.

Peter groaned in response, his pace quickening as he chased his own release. “Me too, baby, just a little more…”

The sound of his ragged breathing, the feel of his hands on your skin, and the way he filled you pushed you over the edge. You came with a soft cry, your body trembling as you held onto the sink for support. Peter followed shortly after, his movements becoming sloppy as he came inside you, moaning your name into your ear.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both trying to catch your breath in the aftermath. Peter’s forehead rested against your shoulder, his hands still holding your hips gently.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you muttered, half-laughing, half-exasperated.

Peter chuckled, pulling out of you slowly and adjusting his pants. “I told you I couldn’t wait,” he said with a smug grin, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your neck.

You turned around to face him, your cheeks still flushed from the rush. “You better be grateful. That was risky.”

“Oh, I am,” Peter grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “And I’ll be even more grateful when we’re at the hotel.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across your face. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I love you too,” Peter teased, giving you one last kiss before slipping out of the bathroom, leaving you to compose yourself.

You cleaned up quickly, trying to calm your racing heart. That was reckless, you thought to yourself, but you couldn't deny the thrill of it. After making sure you were presentable, you headed back to your seat, keeping your eyes down as you passed Peter. He was sitting beside Mr. Harrington, who was still asleep, but Peter looked up at you with a cheeky grin and winked as you walked by.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Peter Parker, always managing to get you into the most ridiculous situations.

Sliding back into your seat next to MJ, you tried to act casual, but you could feel her eyes on you. “That took a while,” she commented, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

You swallowed, trying not to look guilty. “Um, yeah, I guess,” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact. Your mind raced for an excuse, but luckily, MJ didn’t push further. She just gave you a knowing look before going back to her book.

Suddenly, your phone vibrated in your lap. Glancing down, you saw a new text from Peter.

Peter: You’re the best. I can’t believe we just joined the Mile High Club.

Your cheeks instantly flushed, and you quickly typed back.

You: Uh huh. Don’t get hard again, please. We still have 5 hours of flight left.

A second later, another text from Peter appeared.

Peter: No promises. But I’ll try to be a good boy for you.

You: Please, I’m begging you. You’ll get whatever you want at the hotel.

Before you could put your phone away, MJ leaned over slightly, catching a glimpse of your conversation. Her eyes widened in realization, and she looked at you with mock horror.

“Oh my god. Really? In the bathroom?” She whispered, her voice dripping with disgust, but there was also a smirk on her lips. “I wanted to go to the bathroom, and now I gotta wait till we land!”

Your face burned red, and you could barely look her in the eye. “I—uh—I mean…” you stammered, trying to find some defense, but MJ wasn’t letting you off the hook that easily.

“Ew, seriously?” She said, lowering her voice but clearly enjoying your embarrassment. “In an airplane bathroom? You two really couldn’t wait until we got to the hotel?”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “It wasn’t planned, okay? He was being all… Peter, and I couldn’t say no.”

MJ snorted, shaking her head. “You guys are ridiculous. The Mile High Club? Really? I’ve heard of people being desperate, but I didn’t think you’d join the list.”

“I didn’t think I would either!” You whispered back, your face still burning with embarrassment. “But you know Peter…”

She gave you a sympathetic yet teasing smile. “Yeah, I know. He’s a horny little spider. Still, I can’t believe you actually did it.”

You groaned again, wishing the ground would swallow you up. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

MJ’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Oh, I won’t. But I’ll be side-eyeing every bathroom you walk into for the rest of this trip.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, but there was no denying the laughter bubbling inside you both. MJ’s teasing was relentless, but she wasn’t wrong. Peter really could get you into trouble.

Another vibration from your phone pulled your attention back to Peter.

Peter: What are you guys talking about?

Peter: Oh my god! Did MJ find out?

You glanced over at MJ, who was now giving you an exaggerated innocent look as she pretended to read her book. You sighed, typing a quick reply.

You: Yeah, she found out.

Peter: Oh noooo. She's not going to tell anyone, right?

You smiled despite yourself.

You: She won't. But she'll probably tease me the rest of the trip.

Peter: You still love me though, right?

You bit your lip, fighting back a grin. Peter was such a dork sometimes, but he always knew how to make you smile.

You: Unfortunately, yes. Even though you’re the horniest spider alive.

A few seconds later, Peter responded with a string of laughing emojis, and you couldn’t help but giggle under your breath. MJ noticed and raised an eyebrow at you, clearly trying to figure out what you and Peter were saying.

“Tell lover boy to keep it in his pants for the rest of the flight,” she muttered, smirking.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m trying. But you know how he is.”

MJ shook her head. “You two are hopeless. Just don’t pull any more stunts until we land, okay? I’m not in the mood to explain to Mr. Harrington why you’ve been gone for so long.”

You laughed, knowing she was right. As much as you loved Peter and his spontaneous nature, you definitely didn’t want to get into more trouble.

As the hours passed and the plane continued its course, you kept exchanging texts with Peter, your heart fluttering at his sweet and silly messages. Every time you glanced over at him, you caught him staring at you with that familiar loving gaze, and it made you excited for what awaited at the hotel.

MJ nudged you halfway through the flight. “So, what’s the plan when we land? Are you and Peter sneaking off somewhere again?”

You smirked, shaking your head. “No more sneaking. But… let’s just say Peter and I have some, uh, catching up to do once we get some privacy.”

MJ groaned dramatically. “Spare me the details, please. I’m just here for the museums and the pizza.”

You grinned. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you suffer through any more Peter talk.”

“Good. Now, get some sleep before we land,” MJ said, pushing her headphones on and leaning back in her seat.

You nodded, but before you could settle in, your phone buzzed one last time.

Peter: Can’t wait to be alone with you, baby. Love you so much.

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection.

You: I love you too, Peter. And don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of alone time soon.

Tucking your phone away, you leaned back in your seat, a small smile still on your face. Despite the teasing and the chaos, you wouldn’t trade any of it for the world. Being with Peter made everything feel like an adventure—even on a crowded plane at 30,000 feet.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[becca-e-barnes]

I’m literally drooling over the thought of sensitive Bucky whimpering and whining while fucking your tits and thighs he’s so pathetic and needy all he wants is to make you feel good and to fill you with his cum even if it overstimulates him

Okay, tit fucking is great and all but thigh fucking is SO underrated in my humble opinion. Could just be the fact I've got a small chest though lmao

It's so fun when you're already really into it and the insides of your thighs are all slick. I feel like Bucky would lose it, getting to see your face and look in your eyes and enjoy your body.

It's a nice one to do while laid on your side, facing each other. Although the angle isn't quite right for him to slip inside you, it's fun to explore the other ways your bodies can steal pleasure from one another.

"This isn't going to work, sweetheart." You can't help but laugh, having already tried everything you can think of to make the height difference work. There's no way to keep this romantic and intimate in that position because there's just no chance of aligning your bodies properly to allow him to press inside you.

"Maybe not. But it feels nice anyway." His eyes flutter shut, gliding his dick over the smooth, soft, warm insides of your thighs, encouraged by how slick and easy your arousal makes the movement.

You adjust yourself to bring your other thigh on top of his length, closing him in on both sides.

You're wet enough that friction doesn't impede his movement too much and there's something oddly romantic about it. Maybe it's his hand smoothing the back of your head or his other hand up your back, pulling your body closer to his.

It's so intimate, watching his face as he whines your name, rutting senselessly against your thighs. The little flush to his cheeks is beautiful and you can't resist kissing the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. The thick duvet on top of you both, coupled with your combined body heat means the room is far hotter than you'd planned.

You take a second to reach between your bodies, spreading your wet folds and readjusting his length, letting him drag his cock against your neglected clit with each stroke and oh, that's pretty mind-blowing.

"O-oh my God." He whines, desperately fucking himself against your wet cunt, rather than into it. It's a different kind of pleasure to being inside you and while they're not comparable sensations, it doesn't stop this from feeling fantastic.

"Fuck, that's good." You groan, rolling your hips to meet his. Your fingers dip between you once more, gathering some of your slick arousal, using it to glide your fingertips over the underside of his shaft and over his balls.

"Holy shit, that's - fuck." Bucky's hardly got a coherent thought left in his head. He's closed in on both sides by your wet, soft thighs and now your fingers are giving him a different sensation underneath while pressing him against your soaked sex.

"I know, baby. Feels good, doesn't it?" Your fingertips trail lightly back and forth over the underside of his shaft, focusing on the inch or so beneath the tip.

"I can't... I need to cum." He groans, thrusting frantically, clinging to your body to keep you close. Within a few seconds, you feel his dick pulse under your fingertips, his cum coating the inside of your thighs in hot, thick, messy spurts.

He doesn't waste a second, kissing your forehead before kissing your neck and whispering "Good girl. Now let me watch you get yourself off with my cum on your fingertips."

[thespideysoldier]

WE’RE SO BAAAAACCCK BABY

CONGRATS TO THE HAPPY COUPLE 🎉

[allthosepeopleilovetofangirlover]

Dating Peter Parker Headcanons

Peter is a softie by nature. He's sensitive, and he'll never hurt you and take extra care of your feelings.

He's also very jumpy and enthusiastic, and he's very excited to talk to you and tell you about how his day was.

Peter loves science, and he was hesitant to speak about it in the beginning but you told him that he could talk about what he liked for as long as he wanted.

That was the only green signal he needed, since now he rambles on and on about science. You listen patiently, not wanting to break his heart and you also love listening to him talk.

Peter is the kind of guy who goes above and beyond for you. He won't settle on giving you a bouquet of flowers, he'll insist on making paper flowers for you and then gift them to you.

He loves freely, without expecting a lot in return.

He ensures you know that you have no favours to return and that your affection for each other is no competition. You can love him in any way you want to.

Peter avoids arguments and fights and prefers to ignore bullies instead of standing up to them. But you hate it and are ready to beat the crap out of anyone who tries to bully you or your boyfriend.

Peter is vulnerable only in front of you and opens up about how hard it is to be Spiderman while juggling saving the world and making it out through high school.

You help him as much as you can, sometimes even doing his homework for him. He doesn't want you to work extra because of him, but you don't mind.

Once your relationship with Peter turned solid and serious, he introduced you to Tony. You were flabbergasted at meeting the legendary Tony Stark but that man took you under his wing and cared for you just like he did for Peter.

You and Peter navigate through the ups and downs of life together, and he takes your advice very seriously.

Peter tells you at least 10 times a day about how beautiful you are and kisses you every chance he gets.

He takes you out as Spiderman, swinging around the city as you cling to him, screaming in half fear and excitement.

You've helped him on a few missions, and he's eternally grateful for that. But he does not want you to risk your life, ever.

Peter doesn't deal well with failure. It breaks your heart to see him hate himself, and you try your best to explain to him that one person cannot save everyone.

You and Aunt May are like best friends since both of you are the ones who constantly worry about Peter, and you know how emotional and reckless he can be at times.

You sing for him at nights, when he needs to be soothed and consoled.

Taking on the mantle of Spiderman is not easy, but with your help, Peter does as much as he can. You're his better half, his love, and he is yours.

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