#!tasm peter parker

[ec1ips3]

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

fluff ♡ | angst ☔︎ | smut ❦

❧ | 𝐣𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐝

❧ | 𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐲

❧ | 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

❧ | 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨

❧ | 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 (!𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐌)

❧ | 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐳 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨

❧ | 𝐣𝐣 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

❧ | 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

i do not give anybody any permission whatsoever to rewrite, translate, copy or repost my work anywhere besides this blog. if you do so anyway, i’ll fuckin come for you. :) (reblogs are welcomed and encouraged!)

© ec1ips3

[l0caltiredgirl]

when i want fluff/angst fics and all i’m getting is smut

the struggle is real

[bitchycheesecakecat]

[realangelahernandez]

🎵I’m a feminist obviously but I really wouldn’t mind him saving me🎶

[luveline]

hellooo!! im not sure if your requests are open so feel free to ignore this but i was wondering if you could write for tasm!peter where the reader just got her wisdom teeth removed and she’s all loopy on anesthetics and forgets peter is her boyfriend? i saw this video where this girl got her wisdom teeth pulled and forgot she was dating her boyfriend and fell in love with him all over again😭😭

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR7sGQo5/

thank you for your request! ♡ fem, 1k

"Here she is," the nurse says gently, walking you out with his arm behind your back. "Alright, say hi to Peter." 

"Hi, Peter," you mumble, eyes on the floor. 

Peter grins at you, worry warm at the back of his throat. "Hey. Is that everything?" he asks, nodding at the nurses paper bag of aftercare. 

"Everything you'll need." The nurse helps Peter take over, hoisting your arm over his shoulders before stepping away. "Alright, feel better, okay? And don't hesitate to call if something comes up. We're here to look after you." 

You seem appreciative in your fog, but it's hard to tell. Peter curls his arm around your hip and gives it a soft rub as he leads you to the stairs. Whoever devised the floor plan here had murder on their mind —the second floor is completely inaccessible. Luckily, Peter has a lot of strength at his disposal. 

You can feel it. "Woh, you're strong," you murmur. 

"You know that already." His grip on you tightens, pretty much carrying you down the tight staircase. 

"Do I?" you ask. You make a sound like you're hurting, a squeak. 

"I'd hope so." At the end of the staircase, he sits you down, worried you're not feeling well. "You okay? I can princess carry you if you need me to." 

You look at him with wide eyes. He turns to check there's no one standing behind him, but you're really looking at him. "What?" he asks, touching your knee, imploring. "You look like you've seen a ghost." 

"You're Peter?" you ask. 

Ah, the amnesiac effect of anaesthetic. His touch turns comforting, stroking your thigh with as much care as he can drive into his palm alone. "That's me. Hey, if you're forgetting me, does that mean you're not mad at me for last Friday anymore? 'Cos I know you said you forgive me but I can tell it still pisses you off–" 

Your eyes fall to his hand. "Why would I be mad at you?" you ask. 

"I finished the milk and put the carton back in the fridge, even though I promised I'd stop doing it. You see the jug and think there's milk left. We were gonna have macaroni and cheese..." He nudges your fingers with his. "Are you okay? You don't look like yourself."

"What do I usually look like?" 

"Not so, you know. Daunted." 

"You're really handsome," you whisper, refusing to meet his eye. 

"Oh, you think so?" 

You nod like your head is too heavy. You're embarrassed, you sweetheart, oh my god Peter could cry into your lap. 

"Let's get you to the car, baby." 

"Where are we going?" The gauze gives you the world's most adorable lisp, and it turns your gasp into a hum as Peter stands you up. 

"Home." 

"Together?" 

"Yeah, we live together. It's a nice place, and you're a great decorator, you know? It's cozy." 

"Thank you," you say shyly. 

You're not not shy with him, but it's been a long time since you got so quiet over a practically innocuous comment. He wants to see how you'll react to real compliments, over the top stuff that he one hundred percent means. It's a little mean, but when will you ever be like this again? 

He helps you out past the desk and onto the street to your car where it's parked a half a block down. "Don't worry about all this, okay? I'm gonna take such good care of you, sweetheart. There's an ice pack and a brand new comforter with your name on it waiting at home." Peter smiles at your starry eyes as they flash to his, amazed at his simple plans. "How does that sound, beautiful? Is there anything you want before we head home? Anything that would make you feel better?" 

"You're gonna take care of me?" you ask breathlessly. 

"That's my job. That's my number one boyfriend duty." 

"You're my boyfriend?" 

"I am!" he says happily, laughing as he speaks. "For a while. I've been trying to take things further but you're always really shy about getting married–" 

"You want to get married? To me?" 

Peter presses a soft kiss to your cheek. "You're the only person I'd ever want to get married to. We already picked the flowers–" 

"We did?" 

He laughs again, all your questions. He loves regular you but loopy you is especially endearing. "Last time I got super drunk, yeah. You never let me forget it." 

"So you love me?" you ask, stopping short.

"I love you so much," he says immediately, hugging you into his side. He dots another kiss against the top of your head. "You should remember that even if you don't remember me." 

"I love you," you say quietly. 

Peter doesn't know if that's your memory returning, or if you've fallen in love with him in the last fifteen minutes. He could easily fall in love with you that quickly, and yet he's still amazed at your confession. 

"That's good. That's great. Thank you, sweetheart," he says, desperate to hold your face in his hands but weary of causing you future pain. "There's your car," —he points, lowering his head to yours to make sure you can see it, hand now protectively held between your shoulder blades— "let's go home now. Yeah?" 

You start walking again at his requests. He can pretty much see the steam rising off of your face, giddy with happiness at these revelations. You're together, you're in love, and you think he's handsome. He wonders what you'll have to say about his biceps in this state of delirium; you go crazy for his arms sober. 

Which reminds him. 

"I totally have another secret to tell you," he says, unlocking the car as you approach and helping you into the passenger seat. 

"What is it?" you ask. 

Peter closes you in and skirts around the door, climbing into the driver's seat. He's glad that New York is as ridiculously loud as ever, because not even the closed doors or your sodden gauze can smother the way you shriek.

"My boyfriend is Spider-Man?!" 

[ohcaptains]

𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

college! peter parker x fem reader.

18+ only !!! f! receiving oral sex. peter parker has an oral fixation i said what i said. in my spider-man era again.

peter was a weekly visitor at this point. sometimes, it was twice, but never more than three. three was pushing it.

Three said that Peter meant something to you, and you couldn’t have that. No, whatever this was between the pair of you was strictly transactional. It was Peter texting you late at night, the classic, you up? Gracing your screen, and every time, you would pretend to be annoyed.

As if Peter coming around to give you the greatest head of your life was an inconvenience. Tempted, the devil on your shoulder smirking, to type back, Jesus, again? but never doing it. Instead, you wrote: sure.

Still, it plagued your mind. He never asked for anything else.

It was as if he did this purely for himself.

“Oh fuck,” you mewled, clenching down tight. The hand that was wrapped around Peter’s brown curls clutched and tugged, and the unconscious movement earned you a chastised groan. It rumbled through your cunt, and the echo shot to your clit, making you close your eyes and lean back, wet mouth spilling his name into your dorm.

Peter liked hearing you.

Liked seeing you lose your mind with his head between your thighs, your pussy wet and throbbing from his mouth and fingers. It’s why he came around often. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even text, would just knock on your door -- looking sheepish from under his dark curls -- and just. Not. Say. Anything.

His silence was answer enough. You knew what he wanted. Or, needed, as you later figured out, as you saw how red he’d gotten when you told him he couldn’t come around for a bit. When you said something about focusing on exams, he’d come over anyway, whined, shuffled his feet and said, You can do your work, I just gotta…I’ll be quick.

The lack of explanation made your mind swirl. But regardless, you’d let him in and did your work with his head between your thighs. He’d tutored you, too, told you how to solve for x with his fingers inside of you. He’d said, if you let me make you come again, I’ll do your Maths work for the next week. After he’d left, you stared at the scene of the crime in pure silence.

Just…reflecting.

Peter fluttered his tongue over your swollen clit. Focused on swirling it around his tongue in sloppy, wet circles, and the thick desire that swelled between your thighs began to pool at your lower back, forcing you to arch up into it.

“Please,” you wept, even though he was giving you what you wanted. Flat on your back with his deft grip keeping your bare thighs open. It was 8 pm. He’d caught you just after your shower, so the smell of your shampoo and body wash wafted through the air – Lavender and pear.

Peter had spread you open and said you smelled like spring. You’d been far too turned on to comment on it. He grumbled into your cunt, and you managed to work out the word, more? You hummed, too drunk on him and wound tight to verbalise that yes, you wanted more. Wanted him to make you come, and come again, till all you could do was mumble his name and focus on your breathing.

He'd learnt how you liked it. Paid attention, and he was getting full scores as he pushed his tongue flat against your swollen clit and sucked. Your vision went white.

“Oh fuck – ohfuck, Peter—” you squirmed, but Peter was strong, and he held you to the bed with his vice-like grip, wordlessly saying take it take it take it.

He lapped at you, salvia drooling over your cunt and down his chin, soaking the sheets. He was always so careless. In moments like this, that nervous edge that always fluttered around him was gone, replaced by a visceral drive to either please you, or get what he wanted.

The two bled into each other.

His tempo was leisurely, but that didn’t stop the heat from washing over you all at once.

You clamped your thighs around his ears and moaned -- loud, so loud that you were sure the other students on your floor heard.

Still, the ache was erratic, “So good,” you sobbed, and you heard yourself, heard the near primal need in your voice, and the desperation made you embarrassed, made you cover your mouth with your palm and grip the sheets, willing yourself to cool it. 

“Move your hand, or I’ll stop,” he uttered against you, and your clit was so sore that the echo of his words made your eyes roll back. Peter must have seen, as he hummed a laugh, and kissed your inner thigh, “lemme hear you.”

Managing to gain some sense of sanity, you blearily blinked down at him, but all sense of stability you thought you had was wiped away when you saw Peter had his hand stuffed down his pants.

You dropped back onto the bed and sobbed.

You knew he got off on this, but Jesus Christ, you’d never seen that before.

“Gotta be kidding me,” you breathed, and Peter must have understood what you were referencing, as he buried his reddening face into your inner thigh. He let out a breathy chuckle, “’ M’sorry,” he mumbled, “usually I wait till I get home, but you’re just so hot.”

You had to stay completely still, or you’d burst. Usually, I wait till I get home?

Peter moved his face and began nuzzling the wet folds of your pussy. He bumped his nose against your clit, and you quietly choked.

Peter hummed, “couldn’t help myself.”

You figured he did something like that, but the admission made your thighs tense. You pictured him stumbling home – cheeks still wet with you – and tugging his pants down, quickly shoving his hands into his boxers and taking hold of his aching cock. Did he whimper when he came? Or was he silent, all tremors and low grunts? No. He definitely whimpered.

He was far too pretty to stay quiet.

The sudden desire to kiss him swept over you.

Reaching down, you tugged at his curls, wordlessly motioning him to move. When he did, you briefly saw the red of his cheeks and wet of his nose before you kissed him, all tongue, and tasted yourself on his pink lips.

Peter melted into you. Huffed your name like a sigh, and the sheer tenderness of it had you wrapping your legs around his back and pressing your bare cunt against his jeans.

He was rock-hard. Tentatively, you ran your nails over his chest, and dipped low, pressing between his thighs, cupping his bulge, and gently squeezing. Peter wept.

“Oh fuck,” he sobbed, as desperate as you imagined. With one hand in his hair and the other on his cock, you continued to kiss him, until the ache between your thighs became too much to bear.

“Make me come,” you whispered, “and I’ll put you in my mouth.”

Peter had never moved so fast in his life.

[iridescentparkers]

lessons in sexting ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

warnings: very suggestive! (18+)

“PETER!” you exclaimed, and he dropped inside of your bedroom window. You lay on your shared bed where you once waited for him to arrive. He yanked off his mask and crawled between your legs, quickly placing his hand along your waist and head buried in your chest. “What’s wrong?”

“I can never go outside again,” he muffled, turning his face to the side as he remained on your chest. 

“What are you talking about?”

He dug around in his pocket before grabbing his phone and scrolling to find a picture of himself. Lying down, his sight refused to meet yours as his head remained turned to the side, and he raised his phone to your face. “Read the text.” 

The photo was quite…shameful. In the photo, the phone was angled downwards towards the bottom half of his thin, sweaty suit. Peter was unbelievably hard and gripping his erection above the material. The upper half of the photo showed Peter’s teeth gripping his mask, drippings of sweat falling down his face. Underneath it was a text that read, “Baby, I miss you <3” 

“I didn’t get this text-” 

“Look up,” he murmured, and you moved your eyes to see that he sent it to Harry. You couldn’t help but laugh, Peter then groaned into your body and placed his hands on his face. 

“Is business rough these days? I didn’t realize Spiderman offered this kind of service.” You laughed, slamming his phone down on the bed. 

“Please.” he began, “He hasn’t responded 'cause it's late but I know he will never let this die.” 

“I don’t know if I will either!” 

“I missed, you!” He exclaimed. “It was getting boring and hot in that suit.”

“If it helps,” you whispered, running your fingers through his unkempt hair. “You looked good.”

“Really good?” He murmured, moving his eyes up to your face before placing kisses on the top of your breasts.

“Mmm hmm,” you hummed, nodding as Peter moved to hover above your body, placing you beneath him as he kissed you deeply. “Really good.”

[natti-ice]

Peter Parker p links!

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

18+ minors do not interact or click the links! Each link contains porn. All links are from twitter. You must be logged into Twitter for the links to open!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

— Tobey!Peter

blindfolding you to keep his identity secret

Peter filling your pussy up after you’ve begged for it all day

cozy evening fucking

jerking off bigdick!Peter

riding his face

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

— Andrew!Peter

showing Peter your tongue trick

Peter loves his alt girlfriend

first time trying anal together

making sure he breeds your little pussy

him cumming all over your body

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

— Tom!Peter

playing with your sensitive pussy

movie night at Peter’s place

getting pounded in the bathroom

sucking him off while he games

Peter using your pussy to let out some pent up anger

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

@alanangels @laughingphantoms @lyd14-d33tz @imnotmanu @fandoms-are-my-hOme @avatarobsessedgirly @jul-es @swagskeletongiantdreamer @someblessedmonster @spideyswebz @tpwknjj @ansaturn @ariharlow17 @mikisworls @abzyisinsane @yoyo4544 @peterisinapickle @jypiecesgf @jade-is-jaded @lovelymax10 @cindrness @cece969 @xcallmewhatevrrx

[ec1ips3]

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 (!𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐌)

"you should see the other guy. the other guy, in this instance, being a giant mutant lizard."

main masterlist | fluff ♡ | angst ☔︎ | smut ❦

✩ | 𝐬𝐲𝐦����𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 ♡

[l0caltiredgirl]

me @ y/n when they do something i’d never do:

like babe this isn’t us ?? get it together

[welovelouisandbucky]

Me: *gets periods* *sighs*

Also me: *searches x reader period fics on Tumblr/ao3*

[parkerpeter24]

quiet temptations

pairing ➳ tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

word count ➳ 2.3k

warnings ➳ SMUT. characters are 18+ and MINORS DNI. this contains depictions of fingering, oral (m recieving). fluff, peter being sweet but also horny-

summary ➳ you’re awfully quiet but peter can’t seem to take that.

“is everything alright?” peter mumbled as he laid beside you. your back was to him, his arm wrapped around you, “you’re not talking.”

the bed you were laying on was warm, a thin blanket over the sheets because you got extra cold during the winters and a quilt that covered you and peter both. your fingers danced against the wall adjacent to the bed, feeling the cold plaster contrasting peter’s own fingertips that danced on your waist, under your sweatshirt.

“you gonna talk?” he placed a kiss on your hair that was loosely tucked behind your ear, making it fall over your eyes. chuckling when he heard you groan and push the lock of hair back in its original place, “so.. no?”

you sighed softly.

“that’s alright.” peter responded, feeling as if he was just talking to himself now, “we don’t need to talk if you don’t want to.”

the sound of your hum was accompanied by peter’s hand gliding under your sweatshirt and caressing your stomach. he was careful, as if you were made up of glass, watching out for any signs of refusal on your face but your features looked solemn, unchanging.

he sighed, not being able to hold in his concern, “alright, just nod if everything is okay…”

he waited for you and surely you did nod after a few seconds, making peter’s worries dissipate.

“what’s gotten you so quiet?” he tried to get you to talk, his fingers taking a detour from trailing upwards, making contact with the elastic hem of your sweatpants– which originally belonged to him, “‘cause one way or another, i’m gonna hear that pretty voice.”

you felt your face heat up but peter still didn’t notice any change in your expression. if he couldn’t see the blinking of your eyes and sense changing breathing pattern, he’d have assumed you were asleep.

“at least tell me you want this.” he mumbled into your neck, pressing his lips against your exposed skin.

“yeah.” you mumbled and peter wasted no time in sliding his hand under the fabric of your lower, arm holding your body against him. you let out a soft breath as his fingers travelled lower. his middle finger slid your panties to the side before making contact with the skin. he pressed soft kisses to your neck before his nimble finger delved into your folds.

a leg pressed between both of yours, parting your thighs as he nestled a warm hand against your sex.

you let out a soft sound, clutching onto the quilt. his finger sank deeper until he found the earliest bit of your arousal and pulled it out, wanting to spread the wetness everywhere.

his finger travelled up to your clit, circling around it and you bit your lip when he fucked it back into you, knuckle deep. he groaned softly, loving the way your muscles almost clenched his finger.

he repeated his actions a few more times until you couldn’t hold back the soft needy moans that he beyond waited to hear. you felt his teeth sink into the skin of your neck before he sucked that spot, soothing the sting from the bite.

you moaned when he curled his finger, trying to search for a spot that would make your sounds louder. his finger dipped into you inch by inch every time, showing he was in no hurry.

peter’s arm was strongly keeping you pressed against himself as you started to arch your back. he could tell you were getting needy but he wished to hear something from you– even though he was loving the musical moans you were letting out.

he pressed his ring finger into the mix, adding it when he pumped them into you the next time. his face pressed further into your hair when you tried to get away. he could tell you needed more– you were writhing, trying to grind your hips into his already hard cock– but he kept going at the slowest pace he could. one brush of his fingers against your most intimate spot and your lips parted in a loud gasp.

you tried to arch your back which only led to peter’s arm pressing harder against your abdomen. his lips were pressed together, letting out soft hums which accompanied each one of your moans as if encouraging you.

he pulled out both his fingers, fucking in again and then back out and in again until it became a faster rhythm. squelching sounds filled the mostly silent room as his leg parted yours even further.

peter rolled his fingers into you continuously, the heel of his palm nudging against your clit which had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, “pete-” you gasped, “m-more.”

the desperation in your voice made peter grind into your ass. his fingers fucked you faster, holding your legs apart, curling them into you just right until you were jutting your hips, chasing your high.

“good girl.” peter mumbled, “keep it up, baby.”

his fingers moved continuously in and out of you. he could tell you were close with the way you clenched his fingers, however before the coil in your abdomen burst, his fingers pulled out of you, a soft wet sound following it– completely opposite to the loud whine that left your mouth.

“oh my god- why’d you stop?!”

“now you wanna talk?” he mumbled into your hair.

you felt your cheeks heating up further than they were. you hid your face into the pillow, but peter wasn’t letting that happen. he tugged at your chin with his free hand, “oh, baby. trust me, i want you to cum.”

you whined, biting your lip softly at his dirty words. you wondered if peter came prepared for this because no other day would you have expected such filthy words escaping his lips. he’d never done so before in all the times you two were intimate.

he turned you around gently, slowly pressing his forehead against yours as he brought up his fingers to his own lips, sucking them clean. he moaned at the taste as his tongue swirled around the digits, sending a wave of shivers up your spine and arousal to your core.

the second his fingers were released from between his soft, warm lips, your own pair replaced them, tasting remnants of yourself on his lips. you moaned softly, pressing your chest up against his.

“want you.” you breathed out heavily.

peter only shook his head, “not until you tell me what’s with the silence.”

“huh-” your brows pulled together in confusion, “you’re really not gonna-”

“first you tell me what happened.” he pecked your lips once, twice, and a few more times.

you sighed, pursing your lips as you tried to formulate what to say to him– or rather how.

when peter saw you struggle, opening your mouth and then closing it, he brushed a thumb against your cheek, “it’s okay, you should take your time.”

you nodded, feeling the warmth of his hand transfer to your cheek as your eyes met. his chocolate brown eyes swam with what you could identify as pure adoration.

“until then…” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss you.

soft at first, it escalated when he brushed his tongue past your lips, quickly finding yours in a slow yet passionate dance. peter pressed you against the mattress, handling the covers to stay over your bodies.

he wasted no time in moving his lips to your neck, hands going to hold your thighs apart as his thumb now brushed against your clothed thigh, kneading gently as his teeth nipped at your collarbone.

you gasped softly, letting him do as he pleased with you. as you held the back of his head with one hand, the soft, brunette sea of hair engulfed your fingers.

peter moved his hands to the hem of your sweatshirt, wasting no time in sliding it up past your chest, careful enough that you weren’t exposed to the coldness of the room. he dived under the quilt, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, the other being knead in the palm of his fingers.

you gasped as peter’s tongue flicked the bundle of nerves, your stomach flush against his torso.

you could feel his lips curl into a smirk before he switched, rolling your sensitive left nipple between his slender fingers as he licked and pulled the right one in his mouth.

you were getting fidgety, squirming under peter as he felt your grip tighten on his locks, not enough to hurt. he moaned against your skin, placing a few kisses right under your breast, moving lower, now seeming in a hurry.

“pete-” you almost pleaded, finding your voice breathy.

his hands travelled under the pair of sweatpants, making quick work of sliding them down as he traced your thighs, down to your knees before you felt the material slide off you.

you lifted the quilt slightly, just wanting to get a glimpse of peter. the few rays of light that touched him weren’t fast enough to warn you as his lips pressed to the wet patch over your panties. you gasped and threw your head back.

you felt peter’s hot breath and the muffled sound of his moan from under the blanket. he pushed your thighs apart, diving deeper as his nose pressed against your clit, the fabric thick enough to make you grit your teeth, wanting his lips and tongue on you.

maybe peter heard the clenching of your teeth or the way that your hand found home in the tufts of his hair again but he was eagerly pushing down the material past your legs throwing it down to the floor.

you felt peter’s forearms lift your thighs as he shuffled closer to your core, licking up a bold stripe across your folds. your back arched but peter’s grip was keeping you against him.

for a moment you heard him groan as he retracted, “what’s wrong?” you breathed out, supporting yourself up on your elbows.

you almost laughed when his hand creeped out from under the quilt, holding his fogged up glasses out for you to take. with a chuckle, you held the frame between your fingers, quickly placing them to the bedside table.

as you laid your back against the bed, peter was quick to wrap his lips around your clit. you let out a moan as he licked and sucked on the bundle of nerves.

he held onto your thighs, keeping you firm against his lips as he explored the very intimate part of you. his tongue darted out, poking at your entrance, but not giving you enough time to notice that as he slid the muscle deeper against your walls.

you moaned, pressing a hand over your mouth to muffle the lewdest sound you’ve ever made. the bridge of his nose poked against your clit and peter only pressed deeper as his tongue delved in and out of you. it seemed as if he would see no tomorrow if he stopped making out with your dripping hole.

you arched your back, “pete- oh god-”

you felt him hum against you, sending your jaw drop open as you finally felt the pleasure crash all over your body. your toes curled and eyes rolled to the back of your head. you could swear this was the hardest you’d ever come before as goosebumps covered your arms.

you let out a sigh as peter helped you ride out your high, keeping up his ministrations. finally stopping, he placed a soft kiss over your clit, sending your body flinching at the action.

when peter climbed out from under the blanket, surely he looked like he needed to clean up. his chin dripping with your arousal and forehead all sweaty from being so long under the warm quilt.

“you need to wash your face.” you chuckled, brushing back a few locks of hair that were sticking to his forehead.

“and you need to tell me what’s wrong.” he mumbled and you sat up, adjusting your sweatshirt back down.

“it’s nothing-”

“and don’t you dare say it’s nothing.” he sat up as well, beside you, wiping mouth with the sleeve of his shirt– that thing was going in the washing machine the second this conversation was over.

“it’s… just… exams and stuff. you know how anxious i get.” you sighed.

“i know… but you don’t have to! there’s still a week left before-”

“okay, that may seem like a long time but trust me, it’s not.” you looked up at him, meeting the brown eyes that held concern, “i’m sorry, i… i was just overwhelmed. didn’t feel like talking.” you almost pouted, making peter pull you against his chest as he hugged you. you in turn wrapped your arms around his waist.

“trust me, i know how stressful exams can be. but it’s nothing you haven’t been through before.” he placed a soft kiss against your hair, making you hug him even tighter, “you got this, beautiful.”

“yeah, yeah, yeah. easy for you to say.”

he chuckled, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you’re like, i don’t know, the smartest guy of our whole generation.” you mumbled against his shoulder.

peter shrugged at that comment, “hey, even i watch youtube videos for help sometimes.”

“yeah, but you grasp every concept so quickly, like you don’t even have to try.” you looked up at him, blinking when you realised how that must have sounded, “...that was supposed to be a compliment.”

“you’re adorable.” peter chuckled, “how about we study together? i’ll make a time table; and don’t worry, it’s not going to be super chaotic, just a simple time table; and we can figure it out together. how’s that sound?”

you smiled at him, feeling your heart swell at the amount of his care, “sounds perfect.”

his smile mirrored yours, “thanks for telling me.”

you gave him a grin.

“now since i told you, can we fuc-”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

masterlist

[webslingingslasher]

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

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

“I kinda want a black eye.” 

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

“Oh, really?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have a friend that could-” 

“No.” 

—------------------------------------

Oh FUCK did your eye HURT. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His short, barely there breaths start to stutter.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sob, “it hurts.” 

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

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

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

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

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

His fault, his fault, his fault. 

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

His powers, his abilities, his strength.

His fault, his fault, his fault. 

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

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

His fault, his fault, his fault. 

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

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

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

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

“Am I right, super high pain tolerance?” 

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

“I hit you.” 

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

“That’s a little dramatic.” 

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

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

He doesn’t pull out the fuck word often. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was joki-” 

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

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

You sat up straight, your lip curled up. 

A black eye? Sick.

“Wait, really?” 

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

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

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

He hit you.

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

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

“But I-” 

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

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

“No more wrestling.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d never!” 

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

[biblio-smia]

“warming their hands by slipping them up the other’s shirt and onto their back/stomach” with tasm peter would be soo cute bc hed be like 😑😐must u do this to me jokingly but then would wrap his around around reader and squeeze them to warm them up

there's only dim light left by the time you and peter tuck yourselves into bed - you're not sure the city is capable of ever going completely dark.

you're cold. someone, you or peter, hadn't quite shut the window all the way earlier and the post-sundown chill had crept into your room.

peter's like a radiator with the way he constantly emits heat. he'll tease you sometimes, pressing his warm hands against your already too-warm skin.

but it's you who seeks him out now, hands maneuvering under the cooled duvet and past peter's old midtown shirt until you've reached your target.

peter whines but doesn't recoil, hands quick to come up over yours. he doesn't stop your movement and can't do much to fight the goosebumps you give him, his fingers falling off yours. your touch is icy as you move from his stomach to his sides, chasing the warmth you seem to be driving away.

"c'mere," peter whispers, placing your hands on his back and pulling you in close. his arms wrap around your body, thumbs rubbing your exposed arms. "you're freezing," peter mumbles, pulling the covers up to your chin.

you grumble into his chest, eyelids already getting heavy in peter's hold.

"i've got you," peter might've whispered - but in your hazy state, you couldn't be positive. you're definitely warm now - from the inside out as peter's hands rubbing up and down your arms lull you to sleep.

peter is your own personal heater but he doesn't seem to mind much.

part of v's 1000 follower celebration | main masterlist

[luveline]

i just bought the actual cutest spider-man hoodie and now i’m thinking about peter seeing reader wearing spider-man merch !!! <333

The thwack is telling. You hear the splat and your heart jumps out of your chest, that weird wet sound against red-brick wall, and then you realise what it means and start to panic. 

“Hey, woah woah woah!” Peter says, jimmying open your bum window with a too-strong hand. “It's just me, don't panic.” 

You clamber off of the desk chair you're in and rush into the bathroom. 

“Hello?” 

“Two seconds!” you shout, closing the door hard behind you. You can hear the light pad of Peter's footsteps on the floor from the window, but after that he must disguise the weight of them, and you're doubly startled by his knock. “Two seconds, Peter.” 

“Uh… no?” 

You look around frantically. “What do you mean, no?” 

“You're freaking out? Let me in? Like, right now?” 

“None of those were questions.” 

Peter starts to rattle your door handle. “I'll break it!” he threatens, his voice in that funny place where he's joking but not, the same tone he uses to mess with bad guys who underestimate him. You're being teased. 

You pull your shirt over your head just as he opens the door. “Hey, turns out it wasn't locked.” He blinks at you. “Um. Hello to you, too? This isn't the welcome I was expecting.” 

“Cut the smarm. I got, uh. Soup on me.” 

“Soup.” 

You nod fiercely. “So much soup.” 

“You know I'd smell it, right?” he asks, his hair damp with sweat, the mask stuffed in the pocket of his suit and threatening to fall out as he grabs your shirt. His reflexes are too fast to stop him, as he anticipates your movements before they truly happen. 

You stand there in your teeny vest top, crossing your arms over your chest and staring at any spot that isn't his face as he throws out your shirt and takes in the graphic design on the front. 

He looks between you and the shirt smiling like a fool. He laughs, and he tilts his head one way then the other before laughing again. 

“What's so funny?” you challenge. 

“Put this back on,” he says back, matching your demanding tone. “Right now.” 

“No way.” 

“Put it on! You're indecent. Here, I'll help.” 

It's not funny how quickly you lose, shrieking and pushing backwards into the shower as Peter tries to force your arms through the shirt. You laugh as he grabs you and he knows he can keep going, pushing the shirt over your head and his knee between your thighs, and suddenly you've got Spider-Man's emblem on your chest again, the end of the shirt bunched above your stomach. You're both breathless from the scuffle. He stares at your merch. 

“My eyes are up here.” 

“Shut up,” Peter says just as quickly, kissing you hard. A rough and short thing, the glove of his suit on your naked hip. You breathe out in a rush and kiss back, not feverish but getting there, never not happy to feel the seam of his lips parting against yours. He yanks back, “Is this–” 

You kiss him again before he can ask if it's alright. You like a good fight, and it's hard for him to make fun of you for the shirt when you're kissing. He kisses you long enough to make you dizzy, thumb under the hem of your embarrassing apparel. 

He brings his hand to his mouth to bite off his glove and hits the shower with his elbow, a rain of droplets falling from the head like shards of ice down the back of his neck. He pulls away, blinking, and you laugh at his misfortune tauntingly.

“Cold night in Queens?” you ask. 

He wipes at his neck. “Warm for you. You are never taking it off. Never.” 

“What, you like it?” you ask. 

“Just enough to chase you into the bathroom, yeah.” 

“Friendly neighbourhood pervert,” you say happily. 

He wipes his wet hand down your bare stomach. “And his number one fan.” 

[phantomlifes]

tasm who got sprayed with an aphrodisiac, so he goes to his roommate and fucks her well into the morning 🤭🤭🤭

A/N this deviated a bit but i needed to spread the munch agenda…hope you can forgive me friend…..

peter enters the apartment like a hurricane, his shaking body and heaving breaths impossible to ignore.

“peter?” you ask, eyes wide with concern. “what’s wrong?”

he doesn’t answer at first as he looks at you. of course you’d be wearing tiny pajama shorts right now, when he has no control of where his eyes land. he’s trying hard to catch his breath, his hands clenching into fists. he brushes the hair curled with sweat off his forehead and forces himself to look you in the eyes, raising his head higher. he anchors himself on your kitchen counter behind him. “aphrodisiac.” he breathed. “came home for my research.” he gulped, pushing himself to his bedroom, still evidently woozy. “gotta be an antidote.” he started to sway to the side, and you moved on instinct for him to fall in your arms.

“easy.” you drawled, arms shaking with his weight. you’ve never seen him in this state before. “where’s the antidote? do we have it?” you try to keep your voice level, but the urgency escapes your tongue in droves.

he shakes his head, looking up at you. his brown eyes have been blown even darker, the pupil completely swallowing his irises. “lab. somewhere. gotta go.” he pushes off of you, but you grab his shaking hand.

“there is no way in hell i’m letting you leave here like this.” you took a deep breath, knowing the ethics of this are dubious at best, since you’ve been attracted to him since the day he moved in and he is technically drugged. he’s obviously in pain, and you can’t let him go out alone all the way to the lab to get the antidote. you don’t even know if he’d survive. “look. it’s an aphrodisiac. i….” you closed your eyes before you continued. “if it will take the pain away, you could….take it out on me.” you swallowed, trying to put it gently.

peter looks at you in shock, managing to push himself off the ground all the way. “you mean it?” he asks, looking straight at your lips. “because it would…” his voice trails off, cracking.

“yes.” you grab his shoulders. “i mean it”

peter immediately grabs your face with his large hands and pulls you into him, his lips sliding against yours in an anxious release. you didn’t imagine your first kiss going like this, but it doesn’t count, right? as soon as he gets a bit of control of himself, though, he slows down a little, capturing you in a breath-sucking kiss, both of you breaking away for air twice. “are you sure?” he asks again, his voice a low rasp this time. you nod and he urges you to jump, carrying you with a kiss into his bedroom.

he lays you on the bed as gently as he can, and you immediately make work of sliding off your shorts and underwear. he’s so obvious with his staring, it’s adorable. “can i?” his eyes wander down and he asks again in that low rasp. “please?”

the way he said please sent a shiver down your spine. “yeah.” you answered breathlessly. “what do you want?”

“my face buried in your thighs.” he responds instantly, with the cadence of a casual conversation for something so brazen. you stifle a gasp and nod. he wastes no time gripping your thighs and hooking them on his shoulders. “you’re fucking dripping, baby.” he remarks as he starts to explore with his fingers. “this for me? you like seeing me worked up?” he almost whispers.

“i think so.” you manage to get out in between gasps from his fingers brushing against your clit. “do…do that more.”

“this?” he asks, rubbing his thumb in circles. “you like that, baby?” you squeeze your eyes shut and throw your head back with a stifled moan as your answer, and he grins. he takes this opportunity to start putting his mouth to work, his tongue lapping crudely as his thumb resumes pressing all of your nerves. the way he’s sucking and licking is filthy, the wet noises, his hums of delight and your cries of pleasure create a cacophony of pornography. you buck your hips against his face, pulling him closer lightly by his hair and when he groans you feel it inside of you. you whine, arching your back and he has to pin your hips down with a hand. he pulls his face away for a second, his mouth glistening with a smirk. “now who can’t control themselves?”

“shut up.” you whined in embarrassment, grabbing his hair and pulling him back down. he breathed a laugh against your clit, and you squirmed as much as you could in his hold. you’re not gonna last. he hummed and spoke into you, “yes ma’am.” and you knew you were done for.

“peter?” you whimper in between heavy breaths. “gonna cum.”

“yeah, baby?” he pulls his face away a bit, still keeping his thumb in position, only switching it to take your clit between his lips. “go on. cum for me.”

that’s all it took for you to release all over his chin with a weak little cry, your voice hoarse and breathless. you try to catch your breath, laying your head back on his pillow. “alright…” you breathed. “just give me a second…and you could…we could-“

“-about that.” he interrupted you. “i….i already did?” he says in a question, almost like he’s embarrassed, stark contrast to what his tone was minutes ago. “the effects wore off. let’s just leave it at that…” he trailed off, coughing. you prop yourself up on your elbows.

“did…did you…” you look down. “cum in your suit just from eating me out?”

he takes a deep breath, looking at you up and down. “maybe.”

you fall back with a giggle, and he immediately gets defensive. “what?”

“nothing.” you shake your head, the blood rushing to your face. “just so fucking hot.”