#amazing-spiderman x reader

[urrockstar-xe]

math test - p.parker x fem!reader

posted jan 27th, 2024 3:28 pm

came up with this cutesy idea the other day, hope u enjoy :)

summary: Peter's tired of allowing Spider-Man to be a shitty boyfriend, so he makes up for it the only way he can think of that wouldn't get you in trouble.

masterlist

not proofread

wordcount: 0.8k

It was nearing 2 in the morning when Peter slowly lifted his window open from the outside, not so gracefully falling inside once it was a wide enough gap, followed by him stumbling several times as he tried to close his window while simultaneously trying to take off the red and blue spandex suit that so badly needs a wash.

The sound of his old bed frame creaking caught Peter’s attention once he finally pulled on some sweatpants. 

He whipped around, his gaze immediately falling to your half-asleep figure in his bed, a familiar sight now, one Peter had adored. Your half-opened eyes tried to focus on his silhouette. 

“Shit, hey sweetheart I didn’t mean to wake you” Peter’s whispered apology was laced with a soft muffled tone as he pulled a hoodie over his head, not bothering to fix his hair as he made his way towards his bed. “Didn’t know you were sleepin’ over tonight” He said with a tired smile playing on his lips, the bags under his eyes failing to distract you from the beauty that was your sleep-deprived boyfriend as you merely scooted over for him to join you. 

“Supposed to help me study for that test” you mumbled, no malice in your voice, no hints of irritation, not even a slight sadness to your voice at the thought of him forgetting about your plans. All you cared about at this moment was your boyfriend cuddling with you, using all your energy to open your arms for him to slide into. 

Peter stopped dead in his tracks, looking down by the nightstand and seeing your backpack on the floor, a math book sitting on the floor beside it next to a few pens. So that’s what he tripped on when he came in.

“Oh, man. I’m sorry, doll. We can work on it first thing in the morning, swear.” Peter promised, giving into what you wanted and sliding in bed next to you, wasting no time in wrapping you in his arms. 

“It’s due tomorrow, and I have to leave early for that dumb field trip.” You mumbled into his shoulder, not meaning to but making Peter feel all the worse for forgetting as he softly smoothed his hand up and down your back.

~

By the time Peter woke up the next morning you had already left, leaving behind a note on his desk.

”don’t think too hard about that test, I’ll just ask if I can have extended time on it. I’m just happy you got home safe” 

The little hearts surrounding your name at the bottom and the emphasis on him getting back at all seemed to have the opposite effect on Peter than you had intended. 

As now, he just seemed more determined to fix this problem he had made.

~

You laughed as your friend lifted her arms into the air, taking in a big deep breath as you both finally got off the bus, “freedom!” she exclaimed. 

“We have that test in like 30 minutes” You reminded her with a smile, earning a glare in response. “Buzzkill”

You chuckled this time, before watching her lift her finger and point behind you, turning as you followed where she was pointing, “that’s geek charming, what’s he doin’ here?” she asked quietly, expecting you to have an answer as you watched your boyfriend hurry over to you, green folder in his hand. 

“No clue, I’ll meet you inside” You smiled at her, watching her nod and smile back in response, walking backward towards the school while she obnoxiously waves and says “Hi, Peter!” 

Peter waved back, finally in front of you as he turned his gaze to see you already looking at him, with a soft smile. 

“Hey,” Peter matched your smile, holding out the folder to you before you could respond. “For your test, you forgot your math stuff in my room, so” 

You smiled, taking it gratefully, “Thanks, Petey. Although I don’t know how much help it’ll be-” Peter cut you off, “I mapped out in your notebook exactly how you can find any answers for the test and explained it in notes how I knew you’d be able to understand” You looked at him in awe as he rambled, watching as he took off his backpack and fumbled with it before pulling out your math notebook and handing it to you. “Peter-” “I almost wish I could take the test for you, I’ve just had so much to do lately as you know who and that’s no excuse for ditching my best girl when she needed my help so I figured this was the least I could do” Peter continued, taking a breath once he had finished. 

You set the folder and notebook down on the grass, pulling Peter into a tight embrace. “This is nice” he mumbled into your shoulder, squeezing your waist ever so slightly. “I love you, Peter Parker” You mumbled back, pulling back just enough to set a soft kiss to his lips. 

“I love you more, now go pass your test and make me proud, you can do that, can’t you, sweetheart?” Peter smiled at you, chuckling as you placed one, two, three more kisses on his mouth before pulling away and grabbing your stuff. 

“When I pass, you’re buying me dinner, baby!” You said, beginning to walk away.

“Whatever you want, doll!”

[alwaysmoncheri]

hello! I hope you’re doing good! I would like to request a fic with tasm!peter parker or james potter if you prefer, but something where they’re making out and the reader ends up breaking his glasses? If that makes sense🫣

hi, my darling, i’m am doing very well! thank you for requesting, that makes complete sense! I’m totally watching tasm again after writing this <3

cw: fem!reader, making out, slightly suggestive (but not really), aunt may walking in, established relationship, fluff, 1.2k

<3

Peter’s mouth is on your neck while the bridge of his glasses rubs against the skin just an inch higher than his mouth. His hands stay firmly planted on your hips as you sit in his lap on his swivel chair. Your textbook and computer lay abandoned next to his on his desk in front of you.

“Peter, I have to study,” you mumble, but the sigh that escapes your lips makes your excuse less believable, “We have to study.” you add, trying you best to get yourself and peter back on track for a big exam tomorrow. Crazy for Peter or not, this test is important and you need to get a little studying in, but you can’t get Peter to keep his hands off you.

“No, we don’t.” Peter replies quickly, before biting your neck, causing you to let out squeak.

“Peter,” you practically whine, and the chuckle that falls from Peter’s mouth vibrates onto your neck, causing you to squirm in his lap. When Peter lifts his head from your neck, you’re pouting. Lips jutted out and eyebrows pinched together with pleading eyes. Oh, Peter could die right here with you in his arms. He pulls you closer, biceps and hands pressed into your sides and forearms into your stomach.

“You’re going to be fine,” Peter offers gently, pressing a much softer kiss to your cheek, allowing you to release the tension from your face, “You’ve studied plenty already.”

“But–”

“No, buts,” Peter shuts you down, gently rubbing your sides in an attempt to silence your worries. He wants to kiss you so bad, but he would never do it without your permission. And if you want to study, he’ll let you, but he doesn’t think you really do, “Kiss me?”

Peter hears you release a long, dramatic, sigh before shifting yourself in his lap so that you’re straddling him, his hands now stabilizing you by your waist. For a moment your face is expressionless and Peter can’t read you. He worries that you’re unhappy with him but when he sees a giddy smile creep onto your face, he instantly reciprocates and his worries melt away.

You lock your hands around Peter’s neck before leaning in to kiss him. At first, you kiss him softly, tenderly just because you love him. But when you lightly tug on Peter’s hair at the nape of his neck, he takes it as a sign to tug on your hips, pulling you flush against his chest and deepen the kiss. But when the bridge of you nose knocks into Peter’s glasses, you groan in momentary pain, causing his eyes to widen, hand reaching up to gently hold your cheek, the action asking if you’re okay. When you nod your head and meet his gaze, you notice his concern before it’s quickly replaced with frustration. Peter quickly tears his glasses on his face and tosses them towards his bed without sparing a glance in that direction. But when a soft crack echos from across the room, you snap your gaze towards the glasses that now lay broken at the bridge on the floor.

“Peter!” You gasp, shifting your gaze between him and the broken glasses, but no concern seems to be etched on his face.

“Don’t worry, I can get new ones,” Peter assures you, kissing the corners of your lips while his nose delicately brushes the apples of your cheeks, “I just wanna kiss you.” Peter whispers and you feel a rush of warmth spread across your face at his tone.

“Aunt May isn’t going to be happy.” You state, nervously glancing towards the door that Peter probably forgot to lock again.

“Shush, less talking, baby,” Oh god, you melt completely at the way his says baby and presses his finger to your mouth, before replacing it with his lips, “More kissing.” He adds in between a few quick, hard, presses of his lips on yours.

“Oh whatev—hmph!”

Peter kisses you long and hard, successfully getting you to stop talking. You feel hot all over when he kisses you again and again. And when you rank your fingers through his hair, lightly tugging on the ends, while simultaneously gently biting his bottom lip, Peter makes a sound between a gasp and a groan that makes you want to do it again just so you can hear the sound once more. There’s a kiss, another, and another, you’re so caught up in the feeling of his mouth against yours, carefully sliding your hands up and down his chest before lightly gripping a fist full of his shirt to keep him near you.

The way Peter touches you is like muscle memory, he knows how to make you gasp and what makes you shiver. When, his hands slip under the material of your shirt and caress your skin, your body reacts exactly how he knows it always does. Then, he lifts you up, your legs wrap around his waist, and with his lips still on yours, he gently lowers the both of you onto his bed. He seems so far away now and you can’t handle it. Before he even has the chance to lower himself further down onto the bed, you grab his biceps, which are tensed from holding himself up, and tug him towards you. Peter practically falls and suddenly the weight of his whole body is on top of you, Peter worries for a moment, breaking the kiss, but you make a noise, reminiscent to a childish whine before grabbing his jaw with both of you hands and pulling him back. With his lips on yours, his tongue slides into your mouth while your thumbs trace the outline of his jaw and his hand slides behind you back and into your shirt.

“Hey, do you two know where—Oh my goodness!” You and Peter are quickly pulled apart, turning your heads in the direction of Aunt May’s loud gasp. She stands just outside the bedroom with one hand still on the doorknob, her expression loudly displaying her shock. Peter stays on top of you for a split second, before May’s gaze shifts between his hand in your shirt and both of your disheveled appearances, “Peter Benjamin Parker!”

With that, Peter immediately jumps up from on top of you, quickly grabbing your hand to stand next to him. Both of your faces are flushed red from being caught, even if all you were doing was kissing. Aunt May stands by the door, both of her hands placed firmly on her hips, presumably awaiting a reasonable response while you and Peter glance at each other in search of something to say. When Peter’s gaze returns to his aunt, he finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Aunt May—We were just—” Peter pauses as he stumbles over his words, feeling pathetic under the eyes of both you and his aunt.

“Studying.” You finish with a somewhat convincing smile and when Aunt May turns to you, her gaze softens, but when she notices the broken glasses laying forgotten on the floor behind you, her questioning expression returns.

“And what happened to your glasses?” Aunt May asks, a triumphant smile crossing her face as she knows she’s caught the two of you red-handed in your obvious lie, “Were you studying when that happened?”

You and Peter hesitate, he sends you a nervous smile and the both of you bite your tongues, not trusting yourselves to speak. After a moment, the two of you nod, heads hanging low.

“Mhm, right,” May hums before sending Peter a look that says, ‘we’ll talk later.’ Then, she takes a few steps into the room, causing you and Peter’s eyes to widen, but May only steps around you to pick up the broken glasses before walking back towards the door, “Well, dinner is almost ready, you two better behave.”

“Okay, yeah, thank you, May.” Peter says, and you can tell he’s beyond flustered by the situation as he runs a hand through his hair, then brushes a finger along his bottom lip, “We’ll be down soon.”

May nods before sending the both of you one final look, this one a little more playful than the rest. She exits the bedroom and closes the door behind her, leaving you and Peter alone once again.

The both of you share a glance before breaking out in a fit of laughter. Peter falls back onto the bed, tugging you down with his so that you’re laying on his chest.

“I told you she’d be mad.” You tease, running your hand up his chest, eventually reaching the back of his neck, while leaving a gentle kiss on his jaw.

“It was so worth it.” Peter smirks before flipping you over and kissing your face

<3

masterlist . tasm!peter parker masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

tags: @googie-jeon, @Kevia1000, @annoyingmidgetwhowrites, @averyhotchner, @marauderswhxre, @vixparker

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[literaila]

i’ll tell you in the morning

tasm!peter x reader

summary:

“you’re going to fall through the couch.”

“the couch would never betray me.”

warnings: overly considerate peter, scheming reader, fluff and stuff

*

“you’re supposed to be in bed.”

his voice rolls, like a click on a cassette, and you know that peter is not really there.

because it’s all a little blurry. his voice, the door opening, the feeling when he kneels down next to you, his breath hot in your ear.

it’s all some remanent of a dream. a brief moment where you might wake up, but decide not to.

“i’m serious,” his voice ebbs and flows, waving in and out, like your consciousness. “you know i don’t like it when you wait up for me.”

you groan and roll even further into the couch. your face is smushed, and your hair is a mess, sweaty because you’re drowning under every blanket in the house. it smells like cotton, and peter’s deodorant, and potato chips that you probably dropped through the cushions.

you dig your nose in deeper, trying to get back to that dream.

peters probably not actually there, you think, because if he was he would’ve kissed you awake. his hand would be lazily running through your hair, and his body would be pressed against yours. you would be cuddling by now.

real peter is much nicer than dream peter, who shakes your shoulder, albeit massaging you right afterward. “c’mon, bug, we’re going to bed.”

“sleeping,” you mumble, pulling away from him.

dream peter continues to try and wake you up, while you wonder—amidst the dream, no doubt—when real peter will be home. you want to be drowning in his collarbone instead of your own sweat.

there’s a kiss next to your ear. “you’re going to fall through the couch.”

“the couch would never betray me.”

“we’ll see if you’re saying that in the morning, when your neck is bent the wrong way,” he whispers, and rests his head against yours. you feel it as he breathes out, relaxes. almost like he’s purring into your ear.

so you keen into him, a bit awkwardly, considering that it’s his forehead. “why’d you wake me up?”

“you can’t sleep here.”

“c’mere,” you murmur to him, your hand wrapping around the back of his neck, fingertips just brushing his hair. “cuddle with me.”

“being cute isn’t going to stop me from moving you.”

“peter,” you try and push him away, “go to bed.”

“why are you out here?” his nose trails down your hair, to your neck. “it’s almost four in the morning.”

you ponder this, and decide that you don’t really remember what you were doing before you fell asleep here, with your hand shoved in the crook of your neck. “the beds cold,” you slur, head falling back into the cushions as you doze.

“that’s because all of the blankets are out here. why didn’t you turn the heat up?”

he’s playing with some baby hair by your ear now, trying to lull you to sleep, probably, because he loves you.

“i was waiting for you,” you whisper this like a prayer, “and now you’re here.”

“you waited in the wrong spot. i would’ve come to bed with you. there’s no room for me here,” he smiles when you finally turn your head towards him. he’s got a smudge on his nose, and his eyes are sunken in—aged from exhaustion.

“i know.”

you’re both whispering. trying not to wake that drowsy, lovesick part of yourself right now.

“hmm?” he leans into you, nose brushing your cheek. almost like he’s breathing you in. “what, bug?”

“i wanted to fall asleep with you.”

then his eyes are wide open, and he leans back, brows furrowed in a tight line. “i told you i was going out.”

you muse at his confused face, and lean back towards him. “i know. i didn’t know when you’d be home.”

“you could’ve called.”

“i’m not going to interrupt your repertoire with a burglar at midnight. it’s rude.”

“not to me.”

you tsk, and lean away, back into the pillow comforting you while simultaneously scheming to ruin your morning.

“you need more sleep than i do,” peter adds, trying to keep you awake with his sheer willpower, his hands squirm under your shoulders. “we’ve talked about this.”

“no, you threatened to tell my mom—“

“that’s not what i said,” peter interrupts, groaning into the sofa.

“that i wasn’t getting enough sleep. and i said that you could make your own decisions, but that i wasn’t going to stop waiting up for you.”

“it makes me feel bad,” he ignores your gentle protesting. “i don’t want to keep you up.”

“peter, it’s not like you’re out dancing with strippers.”

he laughs, unexpectedly. and you grin back at him, with a sheer conviction undiluted by any hints of remaining sleep.

“you’re up helping people. i don’t mind waiting for you,” you emphasize this by leaning in to kiss his forehead, tasting sweat and not minding at all.

“you’re going to be tired tomorrow. when did you fall asleep?”

you acknowledge your win for what it is, and sit up on the couch, looking around your apartment like you can’t remember where you are. “probably an hour ago. i didn’t know when you’d be home, and i waited a while, but then i moved to the couch so you’d have to wake me up if i fell asleep.”

“so this was an elaborate scheme, huh?” peter laughs at you as his teeth graze your cheek. his chaste kiss makes you warm.

“i learned from the best.”

peter chuckles against you, and the two of you sit like that for a moment. calculating each others breathing like there’s something you might miss, however brief.

and then you smile at him, and he smiles back. “bed?” he asks you, softly, fingertip running against the skin of your jaw. you nod.

his arms wrap around you as he picks you up, your head rested comfortably on his shoulder, legs wrapped around his waist.

“i’m leaving you on the couch next time,” he threatens as he walks, “just so you know.”

“then we’ll both wake up with sore backs. not just you.”

peter snorts. “i didn’t say i would be there.”

“like you can sleep without me.”

he doesn’t say anything to that, but you feel him murmur in your hair suspiciously.

peter sets you down on the bed softly, pushing your legs so you’ll lay down, then covering you with the comforter. he tucks you in like any average middle aged dad.

when you grin he nods, very satisfied with himself.

“i’m just gonna change,” he says, taking a step back.

“hurry. i’m tired.”

“now, look who’s talking,” he shakes his head, but moves swiftly to the bathroom. you hear it as he runs the sink, as he bangs his foot on something and curses, and when he pads back into the bedroom, looking like a young child sneaking out of bed in his pajamas.

you laugh. “where did you get those?”

peter looks down to himself. to the many cartoon styled spider-man’s dancing across his cotton pajama set. “what? this old thing.”

“i don’t think i can be seen in public with you if you’re wearing that.”

“we are in the privacy of our bedroom,” he points out.

“i don’t think i can be in the same room with you if you’re wearing that.”

peter shakes his head, pouting like he’s disappointed, but he slips the shirt off, a concession he’s apparently willing to make.

though you don’t doubt that there are ulterior motives to this move.

“c’mon,” you whine to him, “i’m cold.”

“you’re so needy.”

you roll your eyes, but sink into him as he shuffles from beside you, laying his head near yours. “you’re not coddling me.”

“i’m so very sorry, my dear,” he whispers, and wraps his arms around you.

“shh,” you nuzzle your nose into his neck, and murmur against his hot skin. “i want to go back to the dream i was having.”

peter must be laughing at you, you can tell, even slightly asleep, because something jostles you.

“what was it about?”

you smile against him, listening to his heart like a hymn you’re devoted to. “i’ll tell you in the morning.”

he whispers something, brief, a whisper in the quiet of the room. but you feel the words as he settles into the bed, his calloused hands running over your skin.

and you fall asleep; hands clutching the others heart.

*

[vxmpyse]

Miguel O Hara as your husband head cannons!

nsfw and sfw

———————————————Sfw Head cannons

!husband Miguel o Hara who would wake up every morning and never get tired of the view of you sleeping peacefully in that beautiful elegant night dress that showed of each and every one of your curves.

!husband Miguel o Hara who would learn everything about your country and your culture just for you. He would make sure to plans trips to your home country and even cook foods from your country as a surprise.

!husband Miguel o Hara who would randomly take your face in his palms and kiss all over it, never missing a single spot and reminding you of his never ending love for his girl. His world, his princess and his everything.

!husband Miguel o Hara who would always try to spend time with you. Because of his job as spiderman, it was difficult to spend much time with him. Sometimes, he would miss breakfast or dinner or even be gone the whole day because of his duties as spiderman. However !husband Miguel o Hara always made sure to make it up to you. Whether it was taking you out for a romantic date night or staying at home binge watching your favorite movies while stuffing your faces with food, he always made sure to keep you happy.

!husband Miguel o Hara who treats you like a princess, his princess. Thirsty? A full glass of water already on nightstand just for you. Hungry? Say what you want and there he is already on his way making it or ordering it for you. He always makes sure your needs are fulfilled. On your menstrual cycle? He’s already taking the pads/tampons, from the drawer you had, out and handing it to you. While also bringing you a bottle of water and some ibuprofen you may need for cramps. He already is prepared for any mood swings you might have. While you sleep in bed, he’s secretly in the corner store beside your guys apartment, buying a bunch of your favorite chocolate and a large teddy bear which usually ends on the floor from the amount he has bought you so far. At least 50.

!husband Miguel o Hara who immediately uses his watch to create a portal back to you if you need anything while he’s working. For example, one time you were walking on the streets of Nueva York at night after buying some snacks from the deli, a man then suddenly had grabbed you and was threatening you. Miguel almost immediately got a sensation of you in need of help and he, in an instant, dropped everything he was doing and teleported there. Let’s just say, that man didn’t get to see another day of light.

NSFW head cannons

Remember that period head cannon? Let’s not forget he’s a vampire. If your ever horny and in need of his touch while on your period, he wastes no time to spread your legs wide open, pulling down your cute little panties and eating out your pussy like a vampire in need of blood. He licks and swirls his tongue all around your poor swollen clit for hours. And sometimes, if you’re lucky enough, he will not hesitate to finger your tight little hole, overstimulating your poor cute pussy.

Talking about periods, let’s talk about ovulation week. Your most needy week. Miguel’s favorite week. He wastes no time on fucking you when you ask for it. If he’s working, he will most definitely let you sit on his lap but that almost always turn into you riding him. And let’s just say that when your on ovulation week, riding him is like riding a horse. Up and down, taking him in fully. His cock is around 8-9 inches and that’s when it’s soft. When it’s hard, it’s a tremendous 11 inches. Usually you would only be able to take around 6-8 inches but on ovulation week? You were a whole different person, being able to take him balls deep. Each bounce making a plap sound. He would try to focus on his work but each and every bounce just weakened him making him eventually give in and thrust his hips up, making the thrusts deeper and deeper.

!husband Miguel o Hara always makes you cum first before fucking you. He’s always putting you first whether it’s eating you out, or fingering you. But sometimes, he comes home from work and he can’t help it. His cock painfully hard and all he can think about is the feeling of your tight pussy, clenching around his hard needy cock. That doesn’t mean he isn’t gentle with you though. He always makes sure to make sure you don’t feel pain unless, your kinky like that😉

!husband Miguel o Hara who just can’t help himself when you wear those small little skirts that show off your ass and your wet panties. You would be walking around the house, cleaning the counters in the kitchen and there he is behind you. It starts by him wrapping his arms around your waist and mumbling sweet nothings in your ear, to him grinding against you, making you feel the hard erection against your plush thigh, to him already bending you over, your skirt on the floor and your panties to your knees as he fucked you dumb, making you forget about whatever part of the kitchen you were cleaning.

Sometimes when he couldn’t come home from work from too many anomaly reports. And when he was desperate for you, that mostly resulted in phone sex. It would start off with sweet talk and somehow, just 5 minutes later, there the two of you were, guiding each other while lewd noises were heard in the background of each others voice. Miguel was more of a groaner than a moaner and hearing his groans had always sent you over the edge. Each thrust and stroke that was heard through the phone had sent you above.

You cannot tell me Miguel doesn’t have pubic hair. I just know he definitely has a patch of black curly hair just like the hair on his scalp right above his long wand. He definitely has a dad bod too. His cock having multiple bulging veins surrounding it, especially when he was hard. His balls were very heavy, making it almost impossible to hold when you were blowing him.

Miguel was the type of guy that did not give an absolute shit about your body. Thick, skinny, chubby? He will still fuck you dumb. Chubby just means that when you sat on his face it would feel like a marshmallow on his face as he ate you out like a starved man. Skinny just means he could easily change positions with you, turning you in all directions as he fucked you in all holes, making a wet mess. Thick just means mirror sex. Him fucking your tight pussy hard, making you unable to word out anything as the only sounds that came out your mouth were moans and whimpers. He would use one hand to rub your swollen clit with an inhumanly pace and his other hand went to your breasts cupping one while watching the other bounce in the mirror. Overall, Miguel doesn’t care about your body type. He loves you in every form,shape and color.

—————————————————————

I hope yall liked this. It took me a while soo pls don’t let this flop-

[irndad]

TULIP WITH THE GUY EVER

this is for peter!! im feral for this man my god this is long for nothing happening- guys i am SO fucking rusty prompt: an act of affection so blatant everyone notices roommate!peter &lt;;3 flower prompts

It’s hard not to look at her. 

There’s so much to observe, so much to place his attention on- how she smiles, the way she taps the sides of her mugs before she sips her tea. She’s a vision in red lipstick and he’s the kind of person that’s blessed to be in her presence. 

It’s a Friday night, and there’s a sweet sort way that she curls into herself. She’s been his friend for just about a minute longer than he’s been in love with her, and he’d like to think he does a decent job at hiding this fact.

He landed on his hip today, from a height far enough off the ground that it still hurts, pain radiating from every step as he walks home. The commute is actually quite far from his internship at the newspaper, but he likes the area he lives, and the woman whose company he keeps while he lives there. He makes concessions. 

Still, he’d been looking forward to the sight of her since the ache began. Her presence had a way of soothing. 

She’s curled up onto an inherited recliner in their shared apartment, and when he bursts their creaky door open in a fluid motion, he’s greeted with this sight. She’s not alone- some friends from her graduate program on their Ikea couch. 

It’s girls night, and it’s his dutiful role to say a quick quip and head back to his room. Her two best friends are over, legs splayed over each other in an open display of affection that he adores witnessing. He could hear the laughter and yelling from outside the apartment itself. He likes how they make her laugh, how they seem to make her heart lighter when he can tell she’s not able to carry the weight of everything by herself. 

“Peter!” She’s the first to even notice he’s around, and he tries not to let the stubborn firework in his chest keep exploding at the thought of it. At the thought, she sees me. Her voice is warm and kind and weightless, and he drinks in  the sight of her. Their floor lamp illuminates her in warm golden light, a coupe glass with red wine held in delicate fingers. 

“Hey, you,” he replies, an unmistakable warmth he can’t seem to rid himself of in his tone. He tries not to seem disappointed, like he’d not been imagining watching an irrelevant TV show, a little too close together until they’d fallen asleep just that way.

As he’s hanging his withered coat, he asks, “What are you guys up to tonight?”

Her friend explains that they are watching the Spy Kids trilogy in order, and she nods dutifully along. 

“That sounds wonderful,” he can’t help but laugh. “I’ll leave you guys be-“ 

And it’s no surprise, when they send a him a chorus of please join, and you’re welcome to be here! 

She stands up to give him a hug goodnight (because she wants to kill him), and he envelops her before he can stop himself. She smells like a mixture of lavender and rose and sweet red wine, and he’s grateful for his heightened senses for a moment; it doesn’t take long to memorize it all. 

It occurs to him that he won’t see her until morning, and he takes in the sight of her again, eyes raking over her. She really is beautiful- lovely in a way that radiates her smile, follows her in action. His hands rest on the curve of her waist, and something and things being made to fit one another cross his mind, against his better judgement. God, he could spend forever looking at her, longer touching her. 

He only pulls away when he hears a muffled pair of laughs, failed attempts at not interrupting a moment. Which is absurd, because there is no moment. None. 

She beams at him despite the laughter of those she holds dear, and it aches saying goodbye to her. She's just down the hall and it hurts to leave.

He slinks off to his bedroom smelling like her perfume, blushing bright red and maybe, just maybe, the tiniest bit hopeful. And he thinks he might of heard the faint whisper of two other people, whispering questions he mulls over every day.

"Just roommates, huh?"

[writtenbymoonflower]

Unpretty

You are insecure and Peter is oblivious. tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

cw: reader had very negative thoughts about body image. mentions of weight and general body image issues. i tried to keep it as neutral as possible so everybody could read and relate, so it can be read as plus!size reader or not.

1.5k words

The position you were in wasn’t unnecessarily uncomfortable. The physical part felt really nice, actually. Peter was laid on his side, nose nuzzled into your hair while you were in his arms flat on your back. His even breathing was soothing and you felt close and warm. 

Emotionally, however, you felt confused. 

You had to resist cringing every time you remembered that Peter’s large hand was spread over the bottom of your tummy, likely feeling everything “wrong” about it. He could definitely feel it wasn’t as flat or firm as you would like it to be, even through your thick crewneck. And even though you logically knew it was impossible, you felt the stinging insecurity all over your body, like he was touching you everywhere you hated. Your brain was telling you that through feeling the soft part of your stomach, he could also feel and see where your thighs were too big, where stretchmarks were painted all over your body, and where your skin wasn’t completely smooth. 

He probably would hate my body as much as I do if he could see. The little voice in your head nagged. 

Obviously, you knew that wasn’t true. You knew that everyone had little things that bothered them and yours weren’t even especially unusual. You also knew that voicing these thoughts to Peter would likely lead to you being even more self-conscious and him being confused. Or even worse, him pitying you. You were snapped out of your spiral by Peter’s shifting in position. 

“What’re you thinking of, baby?” Peter whispered. To your horror, his hand started rubbing your stomach over your sweater. “I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears.” He laughed the way he does when trying to calm you down, like he doesn’t think it’s funny but it might be less intimidating if you believe he does. You turned your head to look at him. Being this close didn’t allow you to see his full face, but you could see one of his pretty brown eyes, looking at you with far too much love for your heart to handle.

“Not thinking of anythin’ really.” You kept your voice as even as possible and hoped he didn’t hear the nervous hitch in your breath as he reached under the hem of your sweatshirt to touch your skin. You panicked and tried to cover by grabbing his hand in yours and holding it between your ribs, right under your chest. He looked confused but still stroked your hand with his thumb.

“Yeah okay.” He was sarcastic and rolling his eyes but his voice was still light. He brought your joined hands up to kiss the veins on your wrist, closing his eyes and letting his lips linger for a good few seconds. All while still burning his eyes over your face, letting his pupils linger over a feature before jumping to the next, admiring your whole face with so much care you would cry. 

“What?” You asked, growing shy under his intense stare. 

“You’re so pretty, baby.” He was still smiling at you like a fool. “So so pretty.” He sing-songed. He urged you to lay on top of him with his arms, but you held fast in your place. Your boyfriend apparently took this as a challenge, because he showed off his real strength by pulling you fast onto his chest. 

“Peter!” You said, scolding and nervous and flustered all at once. 

“What?” He asked smugly, with a look of triumph on his face. You ducked your head out of his eyesight. “Baby, what’s up?” He asked again, more sincere. You still didn’t answer, your anxiety was roaring too loud in your head. You were probably crushing him under your weight. His hands were planted on your hips, likely feeling the extra fat and getting grossed out. He was just too nice to say anything. He was also too far close to your face for comfort, definitely seeing patches of oily skin or blemishes littering your face. It all became too much for you and you tried to roll off of him, but he gripped onto you harder. 

“Peter, let me off.” You kept your voice light but you were panicking inside. 

“Yeah, not happening.” He stayed stubborn as a mule. 

“But I’m heavy, I’ll crush you.” You said desperately. 

“Good.” He rebutted, still acting as if this was a casual conversation. 

“Peter, I’m serious. I’m too heavy for this. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Your voice trailed off, getting quieter towards the end. The whole sentence was soaked in shame that Peter hadn’t yet picked up on. Now, there was a concerned crease between his eyebrows. 

“Huh?” He looked genuinely confused. “What put that dumb idea in your head? ‘Too heavy’ for what, exactly?” He started as if he was about to rant, but cut it short. To your dismay, he pulled more of your weight onto him. 

“It’s not dumb, it’s true. I’m just too heavy” You argued back. He couldn’t really be that oblivious. Anyone with eyes could see it. 

“Oh I’m sorry,” He started sassing, like he actually wasn’t sorry at all. “I didn’t know that you now were the only deciding judge of something being ‘too much.’” He was being defiant on purpose. 

“Peter, please.” All joking and argumentativeness had left your tone, just leaving shame and sadness. Peter softened at this and encouraged your head up to meet his eyes, holding your jaw firmly so you couldn’t look away. He looked like he was slowly putting pieces together in his head. 

“Baby,” He started, still not breaking eye contact with you. “Is this why you’ve not been letting me touch you as much?” Peter looked so sad, it didn’t suit him at all and you wanted to make it better immediately. “Do you think there’s something wrong with you, that I would think there’s something wrong with you?” On the last sentence he was extra distressed, like he couldn’t believe the words were leaving his mouth. 

“I just-” You were trying to articulate your feelings without making this any worse. “I mean, not every part of me is pretty, you know that.” You tried to say it casually but Peter’s expression didn’t lighten at all. Instead, his bottom lip jutted out and his eyes got wider, looking like a cartoonishly sad puppy who was denied a treat. 

“I don’t know that, actually.” He moved his hand to the back of your head, threading his fingers in your hair. “You don’t think you’re pretty?” He said the last part like his heart was cracking. And in Peter’s mind, it was. His baby was thinking badly of herself, and even worse, she was thinking he thought badly of her. 

“I mean,” You cringed as the words left your mouth, wanting desperately for the conversation to end. “Not really. At least, there is a lot about me that could be a lot better.” Peter was at a loss for words. You had obviously mulled this over and were solid in your opinion. 

“I don’t think there is. I think you are perfect. I love everything about you.” He said softly, his voice missing its usual teasing tone.

“But-” You started, but cut yourself off. 

“But what?” Your argumentative boyfriend was back. “C’mon. Talk to me, baby.”

“I just-” You gathered your thoughts as best you could. He was really being difficult. There was no way he hadn’t noticed something. You also really did not want to say your insecurities out loud. It was too raw. But you knew Peter, and he wouldn’t back off without you giving something. “My stomach isn’t flat.” You said, as if that was enough argument for you being disgusting. 

“Okay?” He actually laughed at this, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “And?” 

You rolled your eyes, irritated. “And, in general I’m just too big. And my skin isn’t good either. It just doesn’t all add up very well does it?” You resisted the urge to cry, you didn’t want to add that on top of this already stressful discussion. 

“Sweetheart,” He looked exasperated. “I think- I think you’re being really mean and unfair to yourself.” He searched for the right words. “Everyone has things about themselves they don’t like, yeah? But you should know, you are not too anything, and there is nothing about your looks or body that is ‘not good.’’ He said every word firmly. “And most importantly, there is nothing, absolutely nothing about your body that I dislike, or that you should worry about me seeing or touching, okay?” His voice was soft during the last few sentences, like he was speaking to a little kid with a scraped knee. It made it a lot harder to resist crying. “Okay?” he said, still looking directly into your eyes. 

“Okay.” You said, watery. You swallowed hard and buried your face in his chest, feeling all too many emotions. “Thank you, Pete.” You didn’t think you could say anything else without falling apart. 

“It’s okay. I'ts alright. It’s what I’m here for.” He stroked the back of your head, still being gentle. “Just do me a favor, yeah?” 

“Mhm?” You muffled.

“Just, make my job easier for me next time. Tell me when you’re feeling like this, okay baby?” He pleaded as he pressed a kiss to your hair. 

“Okay. I will.” 

“Good. Now cuddle me please.” Demanding Peter was back. “And put all your weight on me, it’s no good otherwise.” 

[blooming-violets]

private #5 bent over a table while somethings baking in the oven. is it too much to ask for tasm peter parker bending reader over?

[location based smut prompts]

The To-Do List

[tasm peter x fem!reader]

(reader is described as having a ponytail that is long enough for Peter to wrap around his hand and use as leverage)

His birthday cake was nestled happily inside the heated oven. 

She got up early to make it for his special day. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail to keep out of her face while she had prepped and she was still in her pajamas from this morning. She had planned to have the cake in the oven, get her shower done, and place out his presents on the table all before he woke up. 

Peter, of course, had other ideas. 

He leaned against the kitchen doorway with a lopsided grin as he sleepily took in the sight of her. She paused when she saw him there, silent as ever, and crossed her arms. 

“You are not supposed to be awake for another hour,” she chastised. 

Thirty-five looked good on him. Every year he seemed to get more and more handsome. 

His eye wrinkles grew as his smile widened. A strand of dark hair fell down his forehead and he absentmindedly brushed it away. He was shirtless with nothing but a pair of dark boxers to keep him decent. 

She admired how defined his chest was. A hinting of his six pack was peeking out from just under the surface of his lean body. 

“I smelled cake.” His voice was thick and scratchy with lingering sleep. Peter’s morning voice was one the sexiest sounds she’d ever heard. 

She smiled as she rolled her eyes. It had hardly been in the oven for more than five minutes and it was already enough to get him out of bed. 

“The kitchen is a mess. I was going to clean it all up and have your presents out and I was going to be all dressed up and looking extra cute. You ruined it all with your stupid nose.” 

Peter laughed as he strode across the room to slip his arms around her waist. She looked up to admire him and wiped at a staining of toothpaste still clinging to the side of his lips. She caught it with her thumb and shoved it back into his mouth while he licked it off. 

“You already look extra cute,” he mumbled around her thumb. 

“I’m literally wearing your old, hole filled shirt and bright pink fluffy pants. This is not how I wanted you to see me this morning. It’s your birthday. I wanted it to be special.” She tugged her thumb back with a huff. 

Peter stepped back to appreciate her outfit in the morning light. She had already been in bed by the time he crawled through their window last night.

“I like it,” he stated. “It’s hipster.” 

She let out a laugh in response, “I don’t think you know what hipster means, babe.” 

Peter shrugged, “It means you dress like a bum, right?” 

“Oh my god, why don’t you go back to bed and try this again in an hour when everything is all set up, okay?” 

“No,” he whined. He latched himself onto her back, snaking his arms tightly around her stomach to press her against him. “I’m up. It’s my birthday. Say happy birthday to me and tell me you love me.” 

She grinned, snuggling back against his bare chest, “Happy birthday and I love you.” 

“That sounded insincere but I will take it.” His hand slipped up under her loose shirt to cup a warm hand over her breast, lazily palming it while he nibbled at the edge of her ear. He always liked the feeling of her nipple coming to life and growing harder against his hand. He held onto her chest like one might cling to the safety of a favorite stuffed animal. 

She groaned, “Your presents were supposed to be all set out nicely on the table. Instead you’re just greeted with a kitchen disaster of my cake baking. Are you sure you don’t want to sleep for another hour? I know you’re tired from last night. You were out late.” 

Peter began to slowly waddle them back and forth towards the kitchen table, refusing to release his grip from around her waist or remove his hand from her breast, “I know of a present I can unwrap right here…” 

She gasped under her breath, “Peter. This is no time. I’ve got a list of things to do.”

She felt him laugh quietly against her ear.

“Yeah and I’ve got a list of things to do, too. A whole list. Let’s see what the first thing to do is…” he pretended like he was reading off an imaginary piece of paper as he checked it over. “Ah, yes!” 

He slipped his hands out from her shirt and placed a gentle hand between her shoulder blades to bend her over the kitchen table. With a quick swoop, he tugged down both her pants and underwear, leaving them hanging around her ankles. She let out a shocked cry.

“Unwrap presents…check!” He chuckled to himself, giving her bare ass a soft slap. “And what a beautiful present it is. Couldn’t have asked for anything better. Wow, you really know me, baby, I’m super impressed.” 

“Peter,” she whined, pushing herself back up. “Not fair. I haven’t showered. I’ve got to get ready. I’ve-”

He cut her off with a kiss. His lips crashed against her and his tongue forced its way into her mouth to stop her from trying to protest further. She could taste the mint from his toothpaste still clinging to his tongue and she moaned as he pressed his hips into hers. He was growing harder by the second. 

“Shut up,” he mumbled against her lips with a smile. “My birthday. My rules.” 

“Okay,” she said with a dreamy sigh. It wasn’t hard to convince her. Her complaints were more for show than anything else. If Peter wanted her, he had her. “I love you, Pete.” 

“If you love me so much then why don’t you take off that shirt so I can see my second present.”

She did as she was told, stripping it from her body, until she was standing naked before him. The bulge in his boxers twitched which made her smile. She loved the fact that she could make him so hard from sight alone. 

Peter’s hand reached out to brush a calloused thumb across her hardened nipple, “Beautiful.”

He lifted her up onto the table so she was sitting closer to him and he moved between her legs. They wrapped around him so she could feel the heat of him soaking through his boxers and against her pussy. His eyes traveled down to her chest, taking in the sight, and sighing happily. His head dipped down so he could capture the waiting bud between his wet lips. 

She let out a satisfied moan and ran her fingers through the back of his hair while suckled on her. His tongue bathed her breast, teeth nipping at her nipple, and soothing it over with quick kisses and light sucking motions. His mouth was magic. He didn’t even need to touch her pussy for her to already be soaking through his boxers as she ground against him. 

“Feel that?” He groaned, bucking his hips. “Feel how hard I am?” 

She whimpered.

“All for you,” he whispered, finding her lips once more to kiss her deeply. 

All for her. 

It was his birthday. She should probably be getting down on his knees for him and sucking him off or tending to him in some way but she was nothing but putty in his hands. Lost in the feeling of seduction he was casting over her. 

Peter dragged her down off the table, smirking at the wet spot she had left behind, and spun her around. He folded her back in half over the table, scraping his nails down the length of her spine and over the swell of her ass. 

“The next thing on my to-do list,” he breathed, his voice low and deep. “Is you.”

She heard him discarding his boxers and suddenly felt the wet, hot tip of cock slide up her open folds. She was more than ready for him. He never had to do much to have her begging for more. Her hips grinded against the air as if trying to draw him in closer but he only continued to tease her with the tip.

“Someone’s eager,” he commended, giving her ass another slap. 

“Peter, please,” she gasped. 

He kept up his tantalizing torture. Every time his cock bumped over her aching clit, her hips would jerk backwards, and she’d let out a quiet cry.

“Please what?” He asked with an air of innocence. 

She groaned at his teasing, “Please fuck me! I want you to fuck me.”

“Aww,” he cooed. “Does my poor baby need my cock?” 

She whined and nodded. 

“You got up so early, didn’t you?” His nails dragged along her hips, making her squirm, as she humped frantically in an attempt to get at his cock. “You got up early to make my birthday so special. You baked me a cake. It smells amazing, doesn’t it? Smell it, baby.”

Her eyes widened in frustration, “Peter! Fuck me! Please, stop it.”

He ignored her pleas, getting off of them, as his cock twitched between her thighs, “Did you slip that cake into the oven just for me?”

She was nearly sobbing from her own arousal, ready to attack him if he didn’t shut up and fuck her soon. She arched her back to better entice him, wagging her ass and rubbing it against his hips. She pushed herself up with her arms so he could get a peeking view of her tits swaying in wait for him. 

That seemed to do the trick because he had gone silent as he stared.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Happy birthday to me.” 

“I want it hard, Peter. Use me,” she whispered in an effort to finally push him over the edge. “I’m yours.”

He lined up his cock to her entrance and eased himself inside. She nearly doubled over against the table at the delicious feeling that flooded through her body. 

“Yes, yes, thank you, baby, thank you,” she cried. 

“You really love this cock, don’t you?” He breathed. “Do you love this cock more than me?” 

“No, baby, never. I could never-”

He pulled out and rammed the full, thick length back into her with a loud slap. 

She shrieked, falling forward into a flurry of mumbled moans, “I do, I do, I do. I love it more than you. I love it more than anything.” Tears pricked in her eyes from the overwhelming sensations taking over. 

Peter chuckled to himself, “That’s my girl.”

Her ass slapped against his body with each plunging drive of his cock as he took her. Fast and hard, just like she asked. Every thrust felt like it was reverberating through her, waking up all her senses, making her feel more alive than ever before. It was sheer bliss. Anticipation already began to build. He knew exactly how hard to take her. Peter could be rough but he never went past her limits. He knew her inside and out. He knew just where to push her before retreating back to safety. The sounds of her tumbling moans and each inhale of breath was all he needed to direct his path. 

He was filling her body, stretching her, taking her, building her up to that beautiful place of divinity. Her nails clawed at the table, scratching at the wood, trying to find some kind of purchase to steady herself with. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Peter!” She cried. 

“That’s it, baby,” he panted. “I got you. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” 

He wrapped her ponytail around his hand and jerked her head upwards. She arched her back to accommodate the move as he held her against him. She could feel his ragged breaths against her cheek and listened to his erotic panting in her ear. The sound was enough to almost send her flying straight into an orgasm. 

The hand not keeping a tight hold of her ponytail wrapped around her to grab at her chest. He molded her breast between strong hands. 

She loved taking his cock. Loved it so deep. Thrusting. Hard. Stretching her. Forcing her to take him. Peter was thick. Thickest man she had ever been with. He pushed her walls to their max. His beautiful body and the sounds he made when he fucked her where like heaven to her ears. 

That familiar, sensual pressure began to grow inside of her with shallow waves lapping at the edges of her mind. Soon they would turn into giant swells. Taking her over until it was all she could feel. 

His hand slipped from her ponytail to wrap around her neck. He gave a gentle squeeze. Nothing too forceful but enough to send her flying even faster towards that tsunami of pleasure. She was so close. So ready. 

“Harder, Peter,” she sobbed. “Hard. Please. I’m-I’m…close…need it hard. Take me.” 

Peter was never to deny a request like that. He shoved her back over the table and tumbled on top of her, humping frantically with long, heavy strokes into her cunt. He could feel her walls tightening. He could feel her body changing. 

“Come on, baby,” he urged her. “Cum on my cock. Cum for me. Let me feel you.”

The universe exploded into blinding light. 

She didn’t care how loud she was. Didn’t care if the neighbors would hear. In fact, she wanted them to. She wanted them to know exactly how well Peter Parker could fuck his woman. 

Her toes curled and her legs kicked up as the sensory overload rocketed through her with golden waves of pure dopamine. 

Peter took her straight to the edge and held her there, spasming and sobbing, as he continued to fuck her through the orgasm. Even as the waves slowly receded, they still lingered in tiny aftershocks, due to his relentless pounding. He had gotten her where she needed to be and now it was his turn. 

He reangled himself into her, getting a better grip as he held onto her hips, and switched up his rhythm to slow. Peter liked to feel everything. He wanted to drag it out and feel her body wrapped around him. From fast and hard to slow and steady. His change of pace caused a low, drawn out moan to escape from her throat. 

“You like that, baby?” He panted. “You like feeling every inch of me?”

All she could do was whimper in response as her sex spasmed again around him. This was a man who knew how to lengthen an orgasm. She was completely helpless to him. Her body was his play thing. 

“Let me hear how much you love me, baby,” he whispered down in her ear as his cock buried straight to the hilt inside of her. “Let me hear you.”

She struggled to make any noise besides sobbing whimpers and broken cries. 

He moaned in response, “That’s it. Those are those sounds that I love so much. My poor baby, all ravaged on my cock. Can’t even speak.” 

He gave a small shudder and she knew he was close. She did her best to work her hips to meet his thrusts, squeezing him with her walls, sucking him in, clenching down. 

“That’s good, baby, that’s good.” He moaned, his voice slowly losing itself as he got closer to the edge. “Ooh, fuck, keep that up. ‘M gon’na cum inside ya’kay?” 

She loved it when he filled her. She loved feeling him drip down her leg as she carried him around with her. She would bathe in his semen if he wished it. It was his birthday, after all. The birthday boy could come wherever he pleased. 

His long, slow strokes worked her up as another, tiny orgasm rippled through her. That seemed to be all he needed to follow. 

Peter let out a low groan, his thrusts become more unrestrained with each passing second, and she took him. All of him. 

With the sweetest of cries, he emptied himself inside of her. She could feel him swell and pulse until she was impossibly full. That tiny orgasm grew into something much bigger, taking over her body along with him, as she felt him collapse on top of her, both shaking, as he bit at her shoulders with soft, love bites until he finally calmed down. 

He stayed like that, laid against her back and squishing her into the table, until he cock began to soften and he sadly slid back out. She tumbled back into his arms as they both fell to the spooning position against the kitchen floor. Naked, wet, and breathing heavily. 

Peter’s hand found the comfort of her breast once more. 

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Best present I could ask for. Thank you, baby. You’re too good to me.” 

She grunted in response, still finding words to fail her. Instead, she rolled over in his arms, hooking her leg through his, and leaving a trail of kisses across his face to show much she adored him.  

His eyes closed as he smiled happily at the feeling. 

Eventually she would have to get up. Eventually she would have to shower and get dressed and clean the kitchen and set up his presents and frost the cake…but for now…

For now she was happy to just lay here on the floor in his arms.

[frenziedslashers]

Hi there! I would like a request a OS about Peter B Parker x Fem! Reader as a married couple Smut (Reader is Mayday's mother). The Reader is like Starfire (An alien superheroine and a beautiful hot like fire (literally, since her powers comes from the sun) person married to a human) Like Malewife and Girlboss...So when Peter comes home, she's taking care of her daughter meanwhile he was on patrol, so she put her daughter on bed time. She wants to have a night of "fun" with her husband. Taking good care of him with a bath and a dinner so then the "fun" can come. With a purple robe and a sexy lavender lingerie. I can leave the smut part to you with some recommendations Lactation Kink, Praise kink, "Mommy" kink, Oral (Female and male receiving), Creampie, maybe 69 position...

Take good care 🥰

Early Nights Off;;

A/N: Dude, I am literally blowing you kisses and hugging you platonically through my laptop rn. I was smiling and kicking my feet when I saw that you nearly instantly sent me a request for Peter. I am so in love with him, I love my silly goofy DILFs hehe. I have never written for a lactation kink before so I will not be doing that as I do not know how and Idk how comfortable I am with it LMAO I will try and interoperate the rest into this for you though. Thank you again, literally my savior for my brain rot rn. HE IS SO MALEWIFE THOUGH, YOU ARE SO REAL. I hope this is good enough, this is my first Peter fic haha.

Warnings: Breeding Kink (I just know he has one after Mayday.), Praise Kink, "Mommy" Kink sort of?, Oral (F and M Receiving), Creampie (Wrap it before you tap it guys), Reader is an alien (Not proofread, sorry lmao)

Any other day it would be easy for Peter to patrol the city all night. Even if the crime activity was little to nothing. He could spend all day and night swinging from building to building. It beat sitting at home with nothing to do.

Except now he had a reason to be home. Even before the two of you had Mayday, and it was just you. He found himself crawling through the window of your shared apartment earlier and earlier each night. You were his weakness, and he was never ashamed to admit it.

After you gave him his first kid though. There were some nights that he wouldn't go out at all. Too enraptured by baby Mayday to even think about leaving your cozy home. Playing with the baby. Watching you nurture and care for her. Being a dad was something he enjoyed a lot more than he ever thought he would. He had Miles to thank for breaking his fear of kids.

Tonight was one of his early nights. Calling it quits after all he found for crime activity was a man robbing a woman of her purse. Cliché and typical, but he put a stop to it nonetheless. Getting the woman's purse back while also tying the attacker up in front of the New York Police Department with a letter attached to him.

'Caught him robbing a lady, you're welcome. - Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.'

He wondered if they ever actually took in and charged the people he left on their doorstep like that. Or if they simply untied them and let them run because they had no proof they actually did anything wrong? That was a question for another time, though. Right now he was focused on opening the bedroom window. Crawling in and shutting it behind him to keep the muggy air outside from entering the room.

He was quick to take the suit off. Figuring he wouldn't need it for the rest of the night. Pulling a grey shirt on that hung on the side of the bed. Keeping only his boxers on to allow his body to cool down from the warmer conditions outside.

You were in the living room. Comfortable pajamas on while you lulled Mayday to sleep in your arms. A soft hum leaving your throat as you rocked her back and forth. He had to stop and watch for a while. Leaning against the door frame that led him from your shared room to the living room.

"You're back early," you cooed. At times he wished you didn't have the ability to sense him like he could you. It was nice sometimes, though. Not at times that he wanted to just sit and watch you mother his baby.

"I missed my beautiful girls," he murmured, that smug smile gracing his features. You were glad to have looked up and seen it.

"Well, I just fed her and got her to sleep." you informed, and he nodded. Licking his lips while his eyes raked over you. Practically undressing you and imagining all the things he could do to you right now. It had been so long since the two of you had any time to each other. That seemed to be one of the few, if not only down falls to being parents. Sex felt scarce, but that didn't mean it was totally absent from your lives.

"I think I might shower while you lay her down," he spoke, shifting his feet as he went to turn back for the bathroom down the hall. "Or I could run you a bath while I make you something to eat?" you offered and he just couldn't say no.

He smiled, nodding his head while staring you down. So much love and adoration was in his eyes. He was perfect. Mayday was perfect. You were perfect.

"What man could say no to that offer?" He snickered, to which you rolled your eyes. Smiling fondly at your husband while you stood to your feet. Kissing his cheek when you made it over to him. "I'll get that bath running then," you hummed. Heading for Maydays room to put her to bed. Shutting the door behind you before you scurried off for the bathroom. Swaying your hips a little more than normal since you knew he was staring.

He was, too. His eyes eating you up like candy while they took in your form. God, he could eat you alive.

The water was the perfect temperature. The soaps that you put in it had him melting into the atmosphere. Everything was perfect. He couldn't ask for anything better. When you came walking in with food, and that skimpy bathrobe that drove him crazy. He was certain you were praying on his downfall.

"You spoil me," he told you as he took a plate from your hand. Watching as you sat on the edge of the tub with your own plate in hand. The both of you eating together. Peter a little more eager than you. He loved his food.

"Only because you spoil me in return," you grinned. He raised a questioning brow. Taking a bite of the Mac and Cheese that you warmed up from the night before. "How? I don't make enough money to spoil you. You spoil me more that I do you, and it's a little unfair," he pouted a bit. He hated the fact that he couldn't spoil you like he wanted to, but you never seemed to mind. Everything was fine the way it was.

"You find your ways, Pete," you hummed as you put your plate on the sink counter. Climbing off the tub so you could kneel on the floor next to the tub. His eyes were glued to yours. A questioning glint to them that begged for you to explain further.

"You don't need money to spoil someone. You pamper me with little things. Like your affection and how romantic you can be," you smiled, because he truly was a sap. He loved spending nights cuddling with you. Kissing over your body while reminding you how beautiful you were. Praising you for carrying his baby. Your baby. Making dinner for you on the nights that you couldn't bring yourself to. Or simply taking you and Mayday to the park to get some ice-cream and be a family.

"If it weren't for you, I probably would have never had little Mayday, either," you admitted, and he raised a brow. "Really?" He questioned, and you nodded.

"I never really wanted kids. Not until we started dating. You made me realize that I don't need to be scared of that sort of commitment ever again. You gave me a beautiful daughter," he felt his heart racing at your words. "I never really wanted a kid before you, either. It scared me, being a superhero and all." You both chuckled at that. Staring at one another for a moment or two.

"I guess we both spoiled each other in that department," you told him, and he nodded. "Guess so."

When Peter and yourself finally finished eating, that's when you helped him wash his hair. Something that he was going to do himself, but when you offered to do so. He just laid back and let you.

Your fingers pulled through his hair. Nails scratching his scalp just right while you spread the shampoo. A soft moan leaving his lips while his eyes fell shut. It had you smiling to yourself. Biting your bottom lip to try and keep it from growing any wider.

You leaned in to press a kiss to his shoulder. Your hands trailing down his chest while you leaned in closer to his ear. Peter's eyes opening when he felt your breath on his ear. His eyes trailing down to your chest. Catching a glimpse of the lavender bra under your bathrobe. The thought of you in lingerie had him grunting. His cock twitching to life under the water. It had been too long since the two of you had done anything like this. Something that wasn't a quickie before he left for work after his lunch break, while Mayday was down for her afternoon nap.

"God, I love you so much," he muttered, and you giggled. Pressing a kiss to his temple. "Scoot down so I can wash your hair out, goofball," you teased, and he felt his heart thumping. "Yes Ma'am."

Once his hair was all washed it was time for him to call it a night. Eyes begging for you to take him to the bedroom so you could both fuck like rabbits. Before Mayday that's what it felt like you two were. Primal Animals that only knew how to fuck or make love. Whatever mood Peter was in that night deciphered how he screwed you.

Tonight he wanted to pamper you. To really spoil you since he knew you planned to do the same to him. Gosh, "I'd do anything to be between those thighs," He murmured out loud. A dumbstruck look on his face. He hadn't even noticed he said it out loud, and you knew it. A giggle escaping your lips while you leaned forward. Ghosting your lips over his. "Not if I'm between yours first," you cooed, and he shuddered.

His face was a slight red out of embarrassment. He hadn't meant to say that to you out loud, but it wouldn't be the first lewd thing he'd ever said to you. Peter was fairly good at telling you what he wanted and how he wanted to do it. The more lust filled he got, the less of a sensor he had.

It was like a race for the both of you. Peter standing from the tub while flicking the switch so the water would drain. Scrambling out of it while you laughed and giggled with him. The both of you doing your best to be quiet so Mayday wouldn't wake up.

You ran for the bedroom. Feet pattering against the wooden floor while he did the same. Shutting the door behind himself before he pulled you in for a kiss that he craved. One that you both craved, really.

"I know you're wearing it," he spoke against your lips. Pulling the string of your bath robe so it would fall open. He was quick to pull back so he could see your frame better. "You still like it?" You asked, and he was quick to nod. His fingers running up your sides to your breasts. Giving them both a light squeeze with a groan. "Baby, I never want you to take it off," he chuckled, and you both knew that was a lie. By the end of the night he'd have it ripped off you and in a pile on the floor.

His lips came in contact with your neck. Fiery touches that you would never get used to. Your own powers were controlled by the sun, yet this heat was always so unfamiliar to you. So nice.

"Peter," you sighed as he sucked on your skin. Your body jolting when his fingers pinched your nipples through your bra. "You're so gorgeous, you know that?" He asked against your skin. Licking over your collar bone. You chuckled with a nod, "You tell me all the time," "Yeah, well I don't say it damn near enough." You rolled your eyes at his comment, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. "Yeah, and I don't tell you how good of a boy you are for me enough, either," he let out a grumble of a moan against your skin. It was so easy to rile him up, you loved it.

"May I?" You asked, ghosting your fingertips over his shaft, and he nodded. "Words, Peter," you demanded, and he shuddered. "Yes... Yeah, please," he mewled, and you snickered. He was already a mess.

You shrugged the robe off, allowing it to fall to the floor to give his hands more access to your skin. Your hand quick to reach between your lovers legs and grab him. Giving him a slow stroke before stopping to squeeze the base. His head fell onto your shoulder. A sigh leaving his lips while he gripped your hips.

"I need you," he called, "God, I need you so bad, don't tease me," he cried a little, and you had half a mind to listen, but you didn't want to. You had other plans for the night. You wanted to draw out this time you both had together for as long as you could.

"No," you purred, and the whine that he let out was heavenly. "Now, don't pout, Petey," you purred, "be a good boy for me and I'll reward you," he nodded frantically. He just wanted you to carry on and do something. Anything.

When you started to drop to your knees he felt his heart stutter in his chest. Everywhere your hands grazed as you slid down to the floor was on fire. At this point he couldn't tell if it was from his excitement, or if you were doing it yourself.

Your hand stroked his shaft a couple more times. Peter watching with excited eyes. His thighs shaking while he fought the urge to thrust forward.

"You can touch me, Peter," you told him, and he nodded. His shaky hands coming to tangle in your hair. One staying on the top of your head while the other came to cup the side of your face.

"Will you be good?" You asked, and he nodded. "I know you will," you hummed, kissing his hip. Listening to the moan that left his throat just from having your lips so close to where he wanted you the most. He craved you to the point that it hurt.

When you did finally reach his cock, the noise he made was unreal. Your eyes darting up to his with warning. One of his hands shot up to cover his mouth. A soft 'sorry, my love,' falling from his lips. He truly didn't mean to be as loud as he was. He could never help it. He prayed that one day the two of you could find a babysitter for Mayday so neither of you had to hold back as much as you both did.

Your head bobbed and he felt his knees shaking all ready. His brow knitting together while his chest began to heave. He couldn't take his eyes off of you. You were like an angel. On your knees, committing sin. The thought made him shudder. A hum rumbling from his chest while his head lolled to the side. "Feels so... Good," he purred, and you hummed in response. The vibration sending a wave of pleasure through his body. Both hands shooting to the top of your head so he could stable himself. His mouth slightly parted while his vision grew blurry from the tears that pricked the corners of his eyes.

"God, like that, shit," he spewed out words. You knew he was close, even if you couldn't sense it like he could sense your own approaching orgasms. You would know from how many times you've made him cum in your relationship.

You didn't allow him to, though. Another groan leaving his lips while he buckled forward. His hips thrusting forward a little in an attempt to chase your mouth. "Dammit, I was so close," he slurred, and you chuckled. Leaving an open mouthed kiss on the side of his cock. "I know, and you did so good for me baby," you purred, and he whined. He had such mixed feelings for your praising tease. He loved it, but he also despised it.

"How about I reward you now?" You asked, looking up to your lover with a grin. He was quick to nod in agreement. Licking his lips while he waited anxiously for what you had to say next.

"You wanna fill me up tonight?" "You have no idea," he practically growled. The sound of his voice. The switch from whiny to damn near feral. It went straight to your core. Your breath hitching as he helped pull you to your feet. Pushing you back until you were on the bed.

He fell on top of you. Caging your body with his own. Something seemed to snap in his eyes and it excited you more than taking control over him. It wasn't often that you let him be in complete control, but right now. All you could think of is what he had said in the tub.

"You still want your head between my thighs?" You asked, and his eyes were quick to meet yours again. A smirk pulling at his lips while he stared down at you. "I'd live there if I could, baby," you both chuckled a little at this, but you both knew it was true, too. There were some mornings that you'd wake up to his head between your thighs. Eating you like you were his last meal on earth. He'd just give you head if you'd let him. He never really expected anything in return from you.

He lips crashed down onto yours. A kiss that had you both gasping for air when he was done. Teeth on teeth that led to his tongue exploring your mouth.

His hands were on their own mission. Scaling your body. Taking in every dip and curve that you had. Memorizing you like he did every other time he touched you. If he didn't have any other responsibilities, he could stay in this position with you forever. Touching your body while kissing you with fervor.

One of his hands cupped your breast. The other resting on your thigh. His lips finally parting from yours with a string of saliva still connecting you both. A smug and dreamy smile on his face. "I love you," he hummed, and you giggled. "I love you, too," you told him, and his smile grew. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have you.

His lips trailed over the top of your breasts. Kissing and sucking. Leaving little marks on the soft skin. His hand on your thigh sliding up your body so he could take both of your breasts in his hands. Squeezing and toying with your sensitive mounds of flesh. Your back arching with soft noises that left your throat. Every sound that you made only fed his ego more than it did before.

His mouth replaced one of his hands. Mouthing over the thin fabric that his your nipples from the air. Saliva wetting your skin through the fabric. A sharp inhale coming from you when he nipped your sensitive skin. Your fingers gripping his shoulders while he teased your body. He knew what drove you crazy. Just like you knew what drove him crazy.

His free hand trailed down to your panties. His hand cupping your sex with a moan. He could feel how hot you were down there and it drove him wild. His middle and index finger running over your mound. Feeling how wet you were through the fabric of the lingerie. It was intoxicating him. Just as much as his touch was intoxicating you.

His mouth switched over to your other breast. Biting the flesh while he pushed your panties to the side to slip his middle finger inside of you. A gasp leaving your throat while you tugged at his hair. "Pete!" you snapped, and he grunted, "'M sorry, you're just so good," he moaned against your skin. His now free hand reaching behind you to undo the bra that kept him from your bare skin. Gibing him the chance to abuse your nipples without the fabric in the way. Though, it didn't last long before his mouth was trailing down your stomach. Leaving wet kisses on his way down.

Once he met your clothed sex with his face he felt himself growing impatient. Nudging your clothed clit with his nose. "You're so pretty like this," he sounded drunk. He practically was. Anytime he had sex he was. He was intoxicated by you. You were his perfect drug.

His fingers hooked your underwear. Pulling them down your legs and tossing them to the side. Peter blew on your sex. Keeping your legs apart with his strong grip. "Stay still for me, please," he asked, looking up with pleading eyes. Though there was a hint of command behind them that had you clenching around nothing. You only nodded your head in agreement, which had him smiling.

He was quick to get to work. Licking up your slit. Your breath hitching while your fingers tangled in his hair. His hips bucking down into the bed to try and gather some sort of friction for himself.

He licked at your sensitive bud. Licking and sucking until you were squirming and on the verge of tears. Biting the back of your hand to hold back the cries that tried to bleed from your mouth.

"Taste so good," he rambled. Reaching a hand down to push two fingers inside you. Curling them up, then dragging them out. Slipping the digits past his lips to take a taste. Moaning around his fingers before slipping them out. "Heavenly," he sighed, before diving in once again. Lapping you up like a dog.

It wasn't long before you were summing on his tongue. You told him you were close, but he knew. Only abusing your clit until you were convulsing underneath him. If it weren't for you pushing his head away, he would have made you cum again, too.

"Peter, please," you cried, and he looked up from between your legs. "Just one more time," he tried to plea. Leaning down to lick your clit again. Your body jolting at the overstimulating feeling. "Peter, if you aren't inside me in the next ten seconds I swear to God," you snapped, and he smirked. "All right, all right," he chuckled, kissing your stomach before pulling himself up so he was positioned between your thighs.

He moved above you for a moment or two. Just staring down at you with those adoring eyes. You hated how he looked at you sometimes. It made your heart ache and wish that you had met him sooner than you had. He always made you feel so special and so loved.

"I want another kid," he blurted, "Maybe a little boy, he could have your eyes," he daydreamed out loud, and you nearly laughed. Yet, you couldn't. You only stared back up at him. Hearts practically in your eyes while you reached up to cup the sides of his face. "Only if he has your smile," he chuckled at your words. Leaning down to nuzzle your nose with his. "Is that a yes to baby number two?" He snickered, reaching down to rub your stomach. He was obsessed with you, and he couldn't get over the thought of you carrying another one of his kids. He was already crazy for you, but seeing you pregnant with his child? It did things to him, and you knew it, too. He wasn't shy about it.

"You like being a mommy?" He hummed, and you nodded, "Only for you," you chuckled, and he snickered. "You're a good one too. So loving, caring, rewarding," he winked with the last word, and you rolled your eyes. Swatting his chest. "Peter," he shrugged. "You are, I'm glad you are, too. Mommy. It's a good title for you," He cooed, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.

"Peter, it's been over ten seconds," you reminded him, wrapping your legs around his waist. Bringing your hips up to meet his. The both of you shuddering at the friction. "All right," he sighed out, but instead of pressing himself inside of you like you wanted. He pulled away from you. A frown settling on your lips. "What?" "Hands and knees, now," you stared for a second. It never ceased to surprise you when he ordered you around, but you never really complained about it either.

Once you were maneuvered around he was quick to pull you closer to him by your hips. Leaning down to kiss the dip of your back. "Gonna fill you full," he murmured against your skin, rubbing the tip of his dick along the slit of your sex.

"Shit, Peter," you wined, leaning down to lay the side of your face on the bed. Peter let out a moan at the position you put yourself in. Ass in the air, face in the sheets. You were gorgeous.

He hushed you, biting his lip while putting his fingers against your lips. You sucked them into your mouth and he swore it was one of the hottest things you've done.

When he pressed inside of you, you both fought to stay quiet. Peter was practically falling apart above you. The thought of fucking a baby into you had him harder than he had expected. His hips giving a few testing rolls to make sure you were wet enough. Only moving when you gave a nod.

His thrusts were slow at first. Rolling against you with rhythm. Until they weren't. Until you begged him to move fasted and he had to listen to you.

Both of his hands were on your hips now. His own hips thrusting in and out of you at a past that had your whole body trembling. You pawed and gripped at the sheets. One of his hands keeping hold of your hip while the other reached for one of your hands. Intertwining his fingers with your own. Even while he was fucking you dumb he showed so much affection for you. It was almost overwhelming.

Peter leant over you. Pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade while he panted and moaned in your ear. The sound of skin on skin echoing in the room. The faster he got the further you got smothered into the bed. He was chasing that high that the both of you craved. When he felt his approaching, he was quick to reach between your thighs to rub your clit with the speed of his thrusts. Bringing the both of you to the highs that you desired. His hips slowing while he rolled out his orgasm and rubbed out your own.

Peter lay limp above you. His chest heaving on top of your back. One hand running up and down your side while the other squeezed and rubbed at your hand.

"One more?" He asked, and you chuckled. "Your libido's too high for your own good, Peter," you sighed, and he chuckled. Pulling out of you which caused the both of you to groan with distaste. "I'm not hearing a no?" He questioned with a brow raised. Helping you roll onto your back. "One more," you told him with a nod, and he grinned. "Maybe two?" "Pete, don't push it," you giggled, reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck. Peter laughing into the kiss he gave you.

[hellsburners]

feel the rush

summary: you come home to a needy roommate pairing: peter parker x male reader word count: 1.2k warnings: 18+ warning, s3x pollen, blowj0bs, handj0bs, implied fwb a/n: i got this as a request so i hope anon liked it &lt;3

masterlist | more peter parker

You came home to the sound of grunting. Your roommate, Peter, was hunched on your couch covered in a thick blanket shaking and groaning. He was still wearing his suit, his hair all wet and tousled. “Peter, what’s wrong?’ you inched closer. He shuddered from the sudden touch.

“‘Not feeling well,” he said.

“Are you hurt?” you touched his forehead with the back of your hand. He was having an intense fever, sweat dripping from his temples. “Jesus you’re hot.”

“Was—this pumpkin bomb the goblin used,” he said, his voice shaking and hoarse. “This weird powder came out of it.”

“I’ll make you some tea, let’s get you to the kitchen,” you tried to help him stand up but Peter refused. “What’s wrong?” he shook his head, and you pleaded to him that he needed the tea. You took his arm around your neck and pulled him up. 

Peter’s body was still hunched over as he stood. He groaned from a sudden pain. Shit, he utters. You look down to where his eyes were focused on, his crotch. There was an obvious tent in his center, the fabric of his suit was wet near the tip of his cock. Peter tried to hide it with the blanket but you already saw. The two of you paused for a bit, taking in what just happened.

Oh. 

“It won’t go away,” he cries. 

You let him sit back on the sofa, the tent still erect. “I’ll—go get the tea.” 

You came back a few minutes later with the tea, still steaming from the kettle. He blows on the cup and takes a sip. Peter winces, the tea did nothing, his temperature was still high and the thing was still a problem. 

“Maybe you should get a really cold shower, that helps right?” you said. Peter sinks his head in his palms and screams into the blanket. “You know what, maybe you should undress, you know—since it looks like it's hurting down there.”

Peter stands, the blanket falling on the couch. You help him with the zipper on his nape, quickly pulling it down to expose his scarred back. He pulls on the suit to remove it from his arms, the lean muscles contracting from the movement. He loses balance for a sec, your hands going immediately to his bare shoulders for support. A soft moan leaves his lips. 

“Sorry—,” he groans. You help him pull off the rest of the suit leaving him in his baby blue boxers. The front of the boxers was stained dark blue from his erection. “Can I take it off?” He gestures at the boxers. 

It’s not like you haven’t seen each other naked before, there was that one time you two hooked up but it was a long time ago and under different circumstances. Peter takes off his underwear and slumps on the sofa, his leaking cock pointing north. It was throbbing and the head a bright red. 

“It won’t go away,” his words dragged out. 

“Have you tried to, you know, do it?” 

“I tried to rub one out but nothing happened, you need to help me.”

“Help you?” your brows furrowed. He nods like a puppy, his brown eyes shining under the lights. 

“Like old times.”

“That was one night,” you said.

“One amazing night,” he jokingly laughs.

You flipped him off. You braced yourself, wiping your sweaty palms on your legs. “So what should we do?” you asked. 

“We could do a handjob first?” his voice was still shaking. 

You placed your hand on his leaking cock, it was warm and hard under your skin. Peter rests his arm on the back of the couch, his thighs wide apart as you start to jerk him off. He closes his eyes and draws his head back, a sigh of relief leaving his mouth. 

“Is that good?”

“Fuck, so good,” he moans. 

You continue to slide your hand across his length, and a few beads of precum fall in your hand producing lubrication. Peter lets out a loud cry as your wet hand reaches the sensitive head of his cock. 

“You can go faster,” he said. Your pace quickens, he lets out a moan, his lips glistening. You tighten the grip on his erection, especially when you reach his tip. He grips the back of your shirt. His legs tense, his face scrunches as if he were in pain. He let out a loud, fuck. 

“What’s wrong?”

“It didn’t work,” he said. His face went frown. You wanted to help him, he looked like he was in so much discomfort. 

“What if I give you a blow job?” you utter, your brain not even thinking of it before it left your lips.

His eyebrows raised at your suggestion. “You sure you’d want that?”

“Like you said. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before,” he laughs. 

You bent down where the tip of his cock was inches away from your lips. You press your lips to the tip, you taste the saltiness in his precum. His hand on your back snakes towards your nape, to your hair. He guides your head as you engulf his hardness, the girth filling your lips. 

Your saliva coats his cock making it slippery. You jerk his cock off while you suck on the tip. Peter lets out a drawn-out moan, his hands on your hair curling. Your mouth leaves his cock, you stand up. His brows raised in confusion. You knelt in between his legs, your hands kneading his muscular thighs. 

Peter looks at you with amusement as you take his cock back into your mouth, both of his hands guiding your face. “Can I fuck your—” You didn’t let him finish, you assumed the position, your mouth around his cock and your hands on your lap. 

He braced himself as fucked into your mouth. Using you as a means for release. He fucks into your throat with vigor as he lifts his hips from the couch. He bites his lip from the immense pleasure coursing through his body. Whatever the bomb had it amplified his senses tenfold. 

Your eyes start to well from the sheer force, your hands digging into your thighs. You look up to Peter through your lashes, his eyes closed and his face in ecstasy. He lets out a bunch of praises, on how good it feels and how close he was. 

You take the wheel from him, back to sucking on his cock practically worshiping it. Your tongue licking the sensitive frenulum. You hollow your cheeks and it edges Peter on more. Your hand continues to stroke him, another hand fondling his balls. 

“I’m so fucking close,” he whines. 

Peter’s hips started to thrust on your hand as his body started to convulse. He yells out as thick cum shoots at your face and your tongue, the warm liquid was bitter on your taste buds. You gulped, he was still riding his high, his face all red and his chest heaving. 

You two pause for a second, breathing hard from the intense exercise. Peter pulls you in for a kiss, he could taste his pleasure in your mouth. You moan as he takes you into his lap, his hands crawling under your shirt. 

“Your turn.” 

comments/ reblogs/ tags are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

[imagines--galore]

||A Nonverbal Confession||

Summary: Your boyfriend assumes you are fast asleep as he slides into bed next to you. He ends up confessing what he thinks is a secret. Little does he know, you’re awake, and more then aware of what he just said. Or didn’t say.

Pairing: TASM! Peter Parker x Reader

Rating || Genres || Warnings: K+ Romance. None I guess.

A/N: Well you guys voted and this is what I wrote! Hope you enjoy it!

You had promised to wait up for him. It was something you always did before he went out on patrol. It was more for your peace of mind. You honestly couldn’t sleep unless you knew he was back, sleeping beside you, safe and sound. That night though, he had run a little late, and you had greeted him bleary eyed and a sleepy smile on your lips. Peter had told you to go to sleep on numerous occasions, to which you had refused.

You knew of his identity as Spiderman before you had started to date. It was a complete accident. You had been preparing to go to sleep in the apartment right next to Peter’s when he had accidentally stumbled into your place and yanked his mask off. And since he was a little banged up from a recent run-in with law-breakers, you had decided to help him as much as you could to clean up. And even helped him get clothes from his apartment so he wouldn’t have to wander the halls in his ripped up spider-suit.

That was a long time ago, and you were now living with him. The ritual of your staying awake till he came back started very early on, and you had carried it into your dating life as well.

“Running a little late there Parker, I was starting to get worried.” You stated with a huge yawn, slowly walking past him. As you went, you reached up to playfully pet his cheek. Peter gave you a pout, having been hoping for a kiss. “Well keeping New York safe is never an easy job.” He stated, following after you, dropping the mask, which he had removed as soon as he stepped into the apartment. “I suppose so.” You mused, dropping onto your shared bed and snuggling into the softness of the mattress and many many pillows you kept on your side. Peter made to lie down next to you, but you held him back by holding out your leg and playfully pressing your foot against his stomach.

“No way am I letting you get into this bed with the entire city on you Spider-boy.” You stated firmly. “I changed the sheets yesterday.” Peter grumbled under his breath, playfully grabbing your ankle and giving it a tug. You shrieked as you nearly slipped from the bed, throwing your boyfriend a glare as he quickly disappeared into the adjoining bathroom. He only just managed to close the door to avoid getting a magazine thrown in his face by his sleep-deprived girlfriend.

“Bully!” He heard you through the door. Chuckling softly to himself, Peter quickly stepped out of his suit and into the shower. He made quick work of washing himself, wanting to get into bed. It hadn’t been a tough patrol, but he was tired, and he had to get to work in the morning. But mostly, he wanted to catch a few snuggles with you before you fell asleep. And once you were asleep, even the devil couldn’t wake you. Well he could, but he would wish he hadn’t. You were very particular when it came to your beauty sleep.

Pulling on a pair of pajama bottoms, after quickly drying his body, Peter stepped out of the bathroom. Only to freeze at the threshold because of the sight that greeted him.

You were asleep, that much was clear to see from the steady rise and fall of your chest. What he hadn’t expected was for you to be snuggled against his pillow, nose almost buried in the fabric. As if you had fallen asleep while.....a sweet blush stole across his cheeks. Well he shouldn’t complain. He was always burying his nose in your neck and inhaling your scent. What was to stop you from doing the same.

Despite his protest of you always staying awake when he went on patrol, Peter couldn’t help but adore you for it. It just warmed his heart, to know that you cared about him so much, that you worried about him and his safety. Sighing to himself, Peter climbed into bed just behind you. It wasn’t his normal sleeping place, but once the scent of your shampoo slowly registered in his mind, he wasn’t about to complain.

Your shirt, or rather his shirt, had ridden up while you had been adjusting to find a comfortable position. His warm gaze drifted from the back of your head to the exposed skin. Slowly, he reached out, splaying his hand across the soft skin of your back. His hand was warm, so you barely even felt anything as you continued to slumber. First his fingers began to stroke along your skin, but when you gave a little shiver and seemed to curl into yourself, he opted to trace non-nonsensical patterns against your skin.

Slowly the patterns began to take shape in the form of words. He traced your name, over and over, before moving to tracing whatever pet-name he had called you since you had begun dating. Since you remained asleep, and he ran out of nicknames, he started to spell words he associated with you. Any positive adjective that rose within his mind, he traced every single one.

And once he finally ran out of those, and his brain began to drift off into slumber-land, Peter Parker poured his very heart and soul into tracing those three words into your skin, hoping those words would be somehow branded into your heart and mind. That you would know just how much he adored you.

What he didn’t know, was that you had only dozed off, and when you felt his hand against your back, you had stilled, wanting to see what he would do. It had taken a little while, but you had managed to comprehend what he was tracing against your skin. A sleepy smile pulled at your lips as he continued his little game, your heart swelling with more and more adoration for your boyfriend. It was when he traced those three words into your skin that your eyes snapped open and you went completely still. He didn’t notice, having pulled back to get to sleep himself. But you wouldn’t let him sleep without saying what you knew he deserved to hear. 

Seemingly satisfied, Peter gave a small sigh, reluctantly pulling his hand away from your skin, and pulling the blankets up to cover you. He shifted into a more comfortable position, but his movements seemed to have stirred you awake. You shifted, slowly turning over. Despite your eyes being closed, your body seemed to gravitate towards him. Peter gladly helped you adjust against his chest, wrapping an arm around your middle as you finally settled against him.

“I love you too, Peter.”

He had been about to fall asleep, his eyes had closed almost completely when he felt you speak those words to him, your breath warm against his bare chest. Peter made a move as if he were about to speak, but a quick press of warm lips against his skin had him stilling. “Go to sleep Spider-boy, we’ll talk in the morning.” If it were possible, you snuggled deeper against him, slowly drifting back asleep.

Peter gave a soft laugh, his lips dropping a sweet kiss to the top of your head before his eyes closed, and he fell asleep as well.

[madxyy]

Selfish

| pairing : peter x reader

| summary: your boyfriend comes home injured--as usual--late at night and you can't help but want him safe from his life as spider-man

| warnings: fluff, touching wrists (sigh, again), y/n used once, baby used, peter being cute and angsty as usual, reader also being cute, light angst

author's note: i am trying to write angst so bare with me lol

2 am. 

It’s always when you hear that faint knock on your window that makes all your worries wash away in a split second. But not today, no, today was different. You were waiting all night to hear that thud on the firescape or the cries of the window seal being opened. All night you were absorbed in your own anxieties and worries. Your hopes were dreading as time went by. You were getting scared for the local crime fighting hero and you did everything in your power to take your mind off it.

You really did. 

Drawing, watching tv, listening to music, cleaning the room—which was a bad idea as it just bought you a reminder of the boy who has your heart. You would stumble upon Peter's belongings that were scattered around your shared apartment like confetti: his engineering notes, his sweaters, his latest sketch of a brilliant idea he had to improve his spider-man suit. It only made your heart ache even more, longing for his presence and increasing your worries for your vigilante boyfriend. So you would take another route and try binge-watching a new season of a recent tv show you are watching, which would likely just be collecting dust in the column of ‘continue watching.’

Your mind keeps on going back to him. ‘He’s okay. He’s okay.’ You thought to yourself. ‘He’s coming back to me. He’ll be alright. He’s probably on his way right now. It’s just going to be a scratch, hopefully. He's going to be okay, right? Oh god. Oh god.’ 

As much as you love and adore that your boyfriend is helping the city and its people by saving anyone from another lab experiment gone wrong or from a dangling car that’s about to fall off a bridge, you can't help but wonder if he would ever take care of himself. It’s hard seeing him everytime he comes through your window with a new bruise on his keen jawline, a wound on his ribs, a scar on his hip. You couldn’t deal with it anymore. You wish he stopped just for his own safety. You know it’s selfish but is it so wrong to want him safe? Just the thought of turning on the news and seeing J. Jameson reporting: “Breaking News: Our local friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man reported dead by …” 

You want him back with you already, his arms wrapped around you, drowning you into his warm embrace, so distinctly Peter, while he whispers soft and reassuring words that always mend your heart. You long to hear his random facts about science, see his lopsided smile that always welcomes you back into reality whenever you wake up next to him each morning. You yearn for his contagious laugh that makes your heart throb in delight over the euphonious sound. You want to smile at the tics he does when he gets nervous or the way he avoids eye contact and scratches the back of his neck when he is stuck in an awkward situation. You want him to be back so you can smooch the newly embedded scars that are planted all over his body which you love kissing away everyday when he wakes up. You want to see his dimples that adorn his face when he smiles wide enough because he finally got his web shooters to work, followed by a triumph fist bump to the air. You want to see his eyes, oh his eyes: brown, soft, autumnal, brimming with love and warmth, despite the grief and cruelty he has been absorbed in. His scent, a mix of cedarwood and asphalt (due to his high-flying urban adventures). You want to see the way his hair sticks up in the morning whilst the sun gives it a mixture of honey and bronze aura, running your hands through the mused up tufts of hair, which always leads to the corners of his eyes crinkling up as a sleepy, boyish smile tugs up on his rosy lips. 

Selfish. You can’t help it. 

You waited as long as you could; staring at your window for who knows how long. Your eyes were trained on the window for a good while, but you couldn't help it, all this anxiety finally got to you and you were feeling drained and your posture slumps with exhaustion. Your eyes burn from keeping them open, and soon those same eyes start to slowly droop. Blinking back sleepiness proved futile; your head eventually settled onto the cool silk of your pillow. The material greets your cheek, making it easier for you to be welcomed into slumber. 

It was 4 am, yet your worries haven’t gone down at all. Your eyelids started to grow heavier, and darkness gradually enveloped your senses, until you heard a faint knock on your window, piercing the silence. 

Your heart leapt, and you twisted towards the sound. In an instant, sleep was gone.

Not even a second later you heard your window opening—mm the sound of the cries. Your tired, red eyes snapped open. You were met with a disheveled and drained Peter Parker. His hair sticking to the nape of his neck and forehead, sweat giving him a post-shower appearance. A large laceration marred his chest. Oh. Your stomach dropped, eyes widened with horror at the sight of the injury. It looked like he was scratched -- no, clawed by someone or something. With quick motion, you quickly peel away the sheets, disentangling yourself from its soft embrace, and quickly hurrying to his side.

“Peter” you gasped softly. A hand settles onto his latex-clad one, the other arm wrapping around his waist to support him as you guide both him towards your bed, placing him where you had lain just seconds before. “It’s not that bad, don’t worry about it, seriously, I mean you should see the o-” Peter quickly swallows his words upon seeing your stern glare. He slumps his head downwards as he sighs in defeat. 

You sigh, telling him quietly that you'll be back soon. You left him for a few moments before coming back with a wet rag. Gently, you tug at the suit, trying to cautiously take it off him without aggravating his wounds. Soon, you were met with his bare torso, which is marked with a huge claw mark. You mentally steel yourself before starting to lightly clean around the injury, dabbing the wet rag gently onto his toned chest as you avoid his eyes. It’s not like you were trying to make him feel bad, but you were also trying to cope with the situation. You don’t know if you were mad, relieved, sad, maybe all of the above? Uncertain emotions swirl within you, but one fact anchors your turbulent thoughts: he is here, safe, and alive. That's what truly matters.

Peter seems to catch your avoided gaze, he studies you for a few minutes. Biting the inside of his cheek as he purses his lips to the side, trying to figure out how to approach this situation. He takes in your furrowed eyebrows, the way you’re also biting the inside of your cheek as you put all your strength into avoiding his worried amber eyes. He knew the consequences of inviting someone into his dangerous life, it wasn’t exactly a warm and inviting embrace, nor was it appealing, but what he didn’t fully grasp is how it truly hurts you, in more ways than one.  “Y/N…” he whispered, rough hands that have been through so much and experienced so much, reaching for the comfort of your skin but you gently dodge his touch, leading to a sudden twinge of anguish in his heart. You give him a slight smile to distinguish any suspicion – I mean, you weren’t doing a good job at it – before you continued cleaning the dirt away from his injury. Peter’s eyebrows furrow while his lips start to droop downwards, a frown laid upon his lips at the rejection. 

Biting the inside of your cheek harder to stop the tears from flowing down the curve of your cheekbones. You keep on wiping his cuts clean, overs and overs again, getting flashbacks of his visits from the last time you had to patch him up. Blurred vision starts taking over your eyesight and all you can think about is his pain, what he goes through, his blood, the thought of losing him, life without him, the many ‘what ifs.’ The many times he almost visited death's door. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, it was like a burning sensation bubbling in the back of your throat, the sadness was too hard to keep buried down now. You started shaking and before you knew it your sobs filled the walls and all your fears were coming out of you in the form of a liquid pea that contained so much. As soon as the warm liquid left a path down the curve of your cheeks, peter panicked and rose to action just like the hero he is—your hero. 

Quickly sitting up and fixing his posture, which made him wince slightly from the injuries but he pushed through, his mind set on you and only you. He wipes the tear away with the pad of his thumb and takes the wet rag away from your slightly shaky grip; gently putting it on your nightstand before he lightly reaches both of his hands out and holds onto your wrists.

“I can't” You choke out a sob. 

“Hey shh it’s okay baby, what’s wrong? You can’t, what? Tell me,” He coos. 

He hunches down, trying to find those eyes of yours that he swears are otherworldly, but you just can’t. You can’t see him like this. Hurt. In pain. Suffering. It pains you that he is in this much pain -- you can’t. “Peter I just… ” he gently takes your face in his hand, caressing your cheekbones with his thumbs that are growing wet from your moist cheeks. His heart hurts from the sight of you crying, it conjures a deep-seated throb of pain in his eyes. “Look at me,” he whispers softly, gently nudging your head up with his right hand that is slowly descending down to grasp your chin as if you were a treasure, in a way you are, to peter you are his treasure, the main reason he even gets up or even tries, you are his rock, the only thing that makes sense in his life, and god does he love you, he loves you so much that his heart hurts. A quiet sigh escapes you, it sounds defeated. “Please,” He pleaded oh-so-gently, his gaze unwavering but patient. You sniffle before swallowing down a ball of saliva forming in your throat. As soon as you look up you are met with a pair of almond-shaped umber eyes that are filled with the utmost care, worry, and a hint of guilt. 

“Talk to me..” he whispers desperately, his heart crushing at the pain you are experiencing, he just wants to take it all away with his soft whispers but he knows they will be in vain. Shakingly exhaling “I can’t,” you frantically shake your head. “Please baby…” A few silent beats pass before you finally look back up to find those amber eyes looking back at you with nothing but worry and sincerity. 

You take a deep breath before swallowing deeply ”Peter...I just…” another beat passes. You take a sharp deep breath. “I just really wish you would take more care of yourself, I...I know you love saving people and fighting crime and trust me I love you deeply for that but you come home everyday with a new wound that’s even deadlier than the last one,” You pause, licking your salty lips. “aren’t you worried that maybe those people that you save won’t have anyone to save them if they’re local neighborhood spider-man won’t be there to save them anymore..?” You ask him, almost in a plea. Peter bites the inside of his cheek, thinking over your words with a solemn expression forming on his face that are littered in small cuts from his last escapades. He diverts his gaze to the floor and the room is quickly overcome with silence as he takes in your words, letting the heaviness of your words sink in.

The silence fills the room, it lets you both engulf into your own thoughts. Peter knew what it meant when he finally told you he was the unmasked superhero. He remembers spilling his deadly secret on a rooftop late at night, where you both were admiring the stars, laying on a blanket and talking about anything and everything. He remembers looking over at you and admiring the way the moon was cascading down on you, making you look even more angelic and completely ethereal. 

Peter looks at you hurt and guilty and god do you hate that. Both of you guys shared a gaze that held so much that it made the room feel denser as the distant sounds of ambulances filtered through the slightly open window. A breeze wafts in, brushes against you both, causing small goosebumps to prick up on your skin. Peter grew to learn from his past relationships and the impact it had on his partner knowing he was Spider-Man, which is why it hurts him to know he is the one making you feel like this. A calloused hand slowly creeps up, gently grasping your cheek with the utmost care, as if you were made of glass and he was scared of causing further harm. “I know, I know,” He murmurs, his voice breaking while his toughened fingers absentmindedly traces the curve of your cheek. “It’s just so hard to stop when I know I can make a difference.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat as his words sink in. Your heart breaks knowing how much his words are true and the scary reality that he won’t stop until crime is put to bed and everyone can roam around the streets freely. You shook your head, one hand gently grasping his wrist. “But at what price, Pete?” you ask ever-so-softly like the question itself was forbidden territory. Those eyes that he loves so deeply, look up into his eyes and it causes a gnawing feeling in his chest, almost making him wince from how hurt you look, how scared you look. Peter bites the inside of his cheek a bit harder while furrowing his brows, trying to think of what to tell you because he himself doesn’t know.

He takes a shaky breath, adjusting the grip on your face and slowly pulling your head a bit closer until both of your foreheads are resting against one another, a silent plea for understanding in his eyes. The brush of skin itself was tender-filled, telling a millions of words with just one movement. “I am just sick of all the crimes happening here and the cops not even doing anything about it.” Peter whispered, his voice a low blend of anger and helplessness. You could feel the raggedness of his breath, each exhale a testament to the battles he fought alone in the shadows of the city. The close proximity allowed you to see the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his eyes shuttered as if bracing against a storm of inner conflict. “Peter, I know you care – it’s one of the things I love about you,” you respond gently, reaching up to smooth a stray lock of hair from his clammy forehead. “But you can’t carry this burden alone. It’s too much for one person, even for Spider-Man.” Your voice was a soothing whisper, trying to pierce the armor of duty he wore so steadfastly.  

Peter simply nodded, the weight of the world momentarily lightened by your understanding. You saw the fortress around his heart crumbling, if only just a bit. His eyes, usually so vibrant and full of life, now shimmered with unshed tears, reflecting the constant battle between his duty and his love for you.

“I’m sorry…” Peter’s voice broke through the silence, each word heavy with remorse. He leans forwards, delicately kissing your forehead which grounds you and makes you close your eyes momentarily as you cherish the soft kiss that eases your heart just a bit. “I am sorry for not fully understanding what you are going through. I am so, so sorry,” He whispers into the dark night, the words flowing into the air as gently as ever. A few beats of silence pass while you take in his words. It gave your weary heart time to mend. Peter leaned back slightly so he could get a better look at you, his gaze locked with yours, conveying a depth of sincerity and vulnerability. “I’m truly, deeply, sorry” He whispers once more before he starts to softly press kisses underneath where your ear and jaw meet, your cheeks, forehead, nose, the wrinkles in the middle of your eyebrows, smoothing them out with the pad of his thumb, and finally kissing your lips, so delicately, it makes you want to cry even more. 

The kiss was so deliberate, it was a bundle of promises that his lips sealed to keep, an abundance of love, tenderness, deep affection and care that runs so deeply into his veins that it affects his touches and kisses, he can’t help but pour it all into the kiss, he just wanted you to know how sorry he is. He wanted you to know that he never meant to hurt you, whether it was indirect or direct. It makes your heart flutter and reassures your timid heart. Slowly one hand moves to cup the left side of your face as his other hand descends down towards the side of your neck as peter tastes the saline on your moist-tear lips, but even that doesn’t stop him from pressing gentle kisses against your lips, it only fuels his love, turning the kisses even more tender. Each kiss conveys a message of “I’m sorry, I love you, please know I love you.” You can taste the metallic on his lips as your lips were caressing his back as equally gently and lovingly, your kisses filled with a message of “It’s okay, I love you.” 

Peter slowly pulls back from the kiss, his mouth hovers over yours, his breath fanning over your lips, noses rubbing against each other in the tenderest manner ever. Both of your eyes were still closed, taking in everything, cherishing one another. His right hand moving back up to cradle your face, both hands cradling your cheeks and caressing them with the pad of his thumbs in a feather-like caress. You nuzzle your cheek against his right hand, feeling the rough and calloused palm that you grew to admire and adore. It always provided you with such care and comfort, always caressing or reaching out to gently touch you. Both of your hands now encircled around his wrist, caressing the inside of it so softly that it makes Peter almost melt.

Slowly, Peter opens his eyes. His amber gaze held nothing but love and the utmost care. Shortly after he opened his eyes, your eyes opened as well. Both of you search each other’s eyes as a white noise of admiration passes you both. After a moment of silent communion, the air between you both thickens with unspoken words and shared feelings, Peter finally speaks, his voice a soft murmur against the quiet room. “I can’t promise there won’t be more nights like this,” he says, his honesty laying bare the truth of both of your lives entwined with danger and uncertainty. “But I promise you, no matter how many crazy guys in suits I have to fight, I’ll always do my best to come back… to this, to us.”

This promise, simple yet profound, strikes a chord within you. It’s not a heroic declaration from Spider-Man, but a heartfelt vow from Peter Parker, the boy behind the mask, the one you fell in love with. His words acknowledge the reality of his life—danger is part of the package, yet he’s equally committed to your shared life, to you, and he isn’t going anywhere.

You feel a surge of mixed emotions: fear for the dangers he faces, gratitude for his honesty, and love for the person he is. “And I’ll be here,” you say, matching his tone with a blend of seriousness and affection, “not just to patch you up and be your personal nurse, but to love you.” The corners of his lips quirk up, his eyes twinkling with love as he takes in your words. He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, a silent vow of his commitment. “Thank you,” he whispers, gratitude resonating in his voice, “for everything.”

“Of course,” You whispered. 

The two of you stay like that, embraced in the warmth of your love for one another, finding comfort in the silence that now speaks volumes. The world outside, with its chaos and challenges, seems momentarily distant as you both cherish this safe haven of understanding and love you’ve created together.

[urrockstar-xe]

winter formal - p.parker x fem!reader

aka a starstruck christmas

posted jan 2nd, 2024 8:55pm

this is specifically for @heywardsarchive who said i should make a part 2 so thank u pals :D

this is also fairly late, happy new year, thanks for being here.

summary; although reader misses hanging around her special spider friend, her crush on a certain peter parker boy has her distracted use of Y/n

starstruck does not need to be read first to enjoy this!

starstruck

masterlist

wordcount: 2.1

It had been a few weeks since you had seen that familiar spider up close, nothing more than him swinging from afar, not that you should’ve been complaining. All of your time was being taken up by studying and then getting tutored by that Midtown High kid, Peter Parker. He was a lot cooler than you had expected but the fact all you did when hanging out was math really tainted the image of him in your head.

no matter how pretty he was.

Although with the holidays, more crime typically followed Santa around the globe so you weren’t exactly surprised how Spidey was extra busy this time of year.

Yet you still sighed in disappointment when you got home and once again met a note on your windowsill. 

”Hey, pretty lady, stopped by but you weren’t in :( can’t wait til you’re done with your tutoring sessions” 

The note was short but still, it brought a stupid little smile to your face, pulling out the notebook from your backpack, you wrote a note of your own.

”miss you spidey”

you set it on the outside of your window, setting a small rock from your desk on top so that it wouldn’t run away in the wind before quickly shutting your bedroom window and shivering from the cold.

“Maybe I should get a onesie”

~

“Y/n? You still with me?” Peter asked, grabbing your attention away from the window of the coffee shop you sat in. “Yeah, sorry, Peter” You give a quiet laugh, looking back at the window for a second, just checking to see if he’s out there before turning back to Peter, who was looking at you with a soft smirk. 

“What, why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, earning a laugh from the boy as he set his pen down.

“When did I lose you?” He asked, ignoring your question. “I don’t know,” You shrugged, honestly.

Peter shook his head, his smile unmoving as he closed the book in front of him. He leaned back into the leather of the booth, turning his gaze to your face. “Can’t get you focused at all lately” He joked, but not really. “I’m sorry” You gave him a half smile, hoping it would help your apology come off as genuine, just earning another laugh from the boy as he took his glasses off. 

God, he’s so hot. dude don’t think like that he’s right there

oh god what if he’s a mind read-

“Y/n? Again? C’mon, sweetheart” He chuckled, snapping you out of your thoughts. You laughed with him this time. “I’ve just got like no sleep lately,” You explained, ignoring the way your heart sped up at the pet name and earning a sympathetic smile and nod from Peter. “Is there a reason why?” He asked, leaning forward just slightly as if you were sharing secrets. 

“It feels like waiting for a phone call every night” You shrugged, not missing how Peter’s face fell at your words.

“Oh, boy trouble?” He asked, quieter this time. “something like that” he just hummed in response, not wanting to press any further. 

“Well, if you need a distraction, there’s this school thing-“ “Oh you mean at Nerdtown High?” You cut him off with a tease, laughing at how Peter scoffed and couldn’t help his smile. “Yeah, it’s like a winter formal dance thing, I’m in charge of takin’ pictures and stuff, could use some company” He shrugged, not wanting to just outwardly ask you. 

“And I have a special invite from the photographer himself?” You feigned a flattered face, dramatically putting your hand over your heart.

“Yes,” he laughed, “if you want to come, that is.” He shrugs, smiling at you. You mimicked his actions from earlier, leaning forward into the end of the table, still far enough to not feel his breath but close enough to make Peter slightly tilt his head as if unsure of what you were doing. 

Okay, so maybe how pretty he was did make a difference

“So, what are we wearing?” You asked, smiling.

~

The last-minute invite limited your options but luckily you managed to dig up something from your closet and accessorize enough to feel good about how you looked. While you were putting your earrings in, a knock hit your window, interrupting your giddy feelings about going to a school dance with Peter. 

Your head whipped around when there was a second knock, knowing now who it was as you got up and quickly opened the window, laughing at how Spidey dramatically fell into your room, completely on purpose. 

“hi” You smiled, putting on your jacket to shield yourself from the cold. “hey, pretty lady” Spider-man’s voice was distorted, muffled almost but also sounded like he was purposely making his voice quieter and deeper. “Why do you sound like that?” You laughed as you asked the question.

“Got a cold” he shrugged, before looking you up and down. “You look nice” Spiderman nodded, as if in approval but also as if he had to shut up before saying more.

“Thanks, don’t stare too much though, I’ve got a date!” You teased, smiling excitedly as you sat back down and focused on the red color lining your lips before blending it with your fingertip.

“A date huh?” He asked, not even trying to hide his shock at this point. You sigh, dramatically looking back at Spiderman, earning a chuckle at your theatrics. “Well, I think it’s a date, but if you ask questions, it sucks the fun out of it.” He nodded as if he understood your explanation.

He didn’t.

“You remember that tutor I mentioned?” 

Spidey hummed in response, making himself comfortable on your old bean bag chair, watching you finish getting ready.

“It’s with him” You spoke with a giddy light to your voice as you applied lip oil over the red on your lips. 

The silence from the usually obnoxious talkative spider caught your attention.

And while you didn’t know why, it was because he was internally panicking. 

“Thought he was like a total nerd” He laughed awkwardly, worried he’d blow his cover.

“Oh, he totally is,” You chose to ignore the scoff from Spidey as you continued speaking. “But, he’s also like charming and funny, and he’s so fuckin cute, he calls me sweetheart and like how he rambles apologies whenever he’s late and he always insists on walking me home even though I'm way out of his way for his own walk. Oh my gosh and the other day he hugged me which reminded me so much of that scene at the end of Tangled, like he just hugged all of me, does that make sense? Like he needed to be as close as possible, Ugh”

As you rambled on about your almost embarrassing crush on Peter, all he could hear was his heart pounding in his chest, he had spent weeks as Spiderman, coming to your rescue for mundane tasks, going as far as leaving notes when he wanted to see you but couldn’t. 

Here he was thinking Peter Parker was ruining his plans as your math tutor, meanwhile, He was the one you couldn’t stop rambling about.

Not Spiderman

But Peter.

He was freaking the fuck out.

“Oh my god, what time is it?” You asked, cutting off Peter’s Spiderman’s thoughts as you urgently looked for your phone. “Spidey, you know I love you, babe, but he’s gonna be here like any second.” You offered an apologetic smile as Spiderman waved it off, a way to say It’s all good, 

“Hey, have fun tonight, pretty lady!” He said, clearing his throat as if he was trying not to cough, and before you had a chance to respond, Spiderman was gone. 

~

“Did I mention how pretty you look?” Peter asked as he snapped another picture of you, complimenting you for the 5th, no 6th time tonight.

not that you’d been counting

You smiled, shaking your head. “No, I don’t think you have” You teased, earning that laugh that felt so painfully familiar in return.

“Hey, I have a question for you,” Peter started, still unsure about your previous conversation with Spiderman, even if you laid out all he’d need to know. 

The christmas lights and hanging snowflakes around the room suddenly became incredibly interesting to you as you nodded, avoiding all hints of eye contact possible, and silently thanking anyone who was listening in prayer as instead of looking at you, he started photographing other students and teachers dancing around the room to the Christmas music playing. 

Peter bit the inside of his cheek as he thought out his next few words, trying to not talk himself out of it. Distracting himself by taking photos of his classmates, he finally spoke.

“Do you prefer Pepsi or Coke?” 

coward

You laughed at the question, so it must’ve counted for something, right?

Or that’s at least what he had hoped as he smiled and listened to your unnecessary rant of an answer.

~

You shoved your hands into the pockets of Peter’s jacket that you were currently wearing at his insistence, of course, not being able to help yourself as you did a quick scan of the sky as Peter walked you home. 

He didn’t need instructions on how to get there anymore.

“Lookin' for something?” He asked, nudging you lightly.

Why did he always notice you looking for Spiderman?

“Someone, actually” You smiled at him, turning your gaze to your shoes, counting the cracks under your feet. 

“Oh,” play it cool, Peter. “Spiderman?” Was that too obvious?

You shrugged, looking at Peter with your head tilted.

“Didn’t know you were a fan” He continued, his turn now to count the cracks. 

“Yeah, something like that” you chuckled to yourself, shaking your head before looking at Peter, watching as he smiled softly at the concrete beneath his feet. 

“I had a really great time tonight, Peter” You sighed, nudging him slightly once your apartment complex came into view, even if you still had 3 more minutes of walking.

You really enjoyed your walks home with Peter. Of course, you counted how long the walks were.

“Me too” he nudged back, stopping for a moment and getting your attention by the feeling of his scarf getting tossed around your shoulders, you stopped walking now, allowing him to properly adjust the soft fabric around your neck making it two items of his you were now wearing.

“Can’t have you catching a cold for the holidays” Peter whispered, soft eyes moving to look into yours upon realizing how close you were. “Course not” you agreed in the same tone.

The moment lasted for however much time wasn’t enough, ending with the sound of police sirens, you both turned at the sound, watching as 2, 3, 4 cop cars rushed past you both. 

“Think I know where Spidey’s been” You mumble to yourself, though not missing the quiet laugh from Peter as he threw his arm around your shoulder, urging you to keep walking, seeming to be sort of rushing now. 

You didn’t question it, it was getting late and you knew he didn’t like leaving May alone too late into the night, it makes her worry would be all he told you anyway, so why pry?

You also had quickly decided to try and forget about the ruined moment, content in feeling as he wrapped his arms around your waist, forcing your arms around his neck in the hug you had loved so much and a quiet “I’ll see you in two weeks” mumbled into the shoulder of his your jacket.

Shit, winter break, you almost forgot about that

“Merry Christmas, Peter” You mumbled back, holding your breath as he pulled away and not letting it go til after you opened the door to the lobby. 

“Hey,” his voice made you turn around, tilting your head like a silent question mark.

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart” 

~

The words replay in your head even still as you lie in your bed, waiting for your dreams to overtake you. How he looked at you and how he spoke the words so softly, despite having heard him call you Sweetheart a dozen times by now, you couldn’t get over it.

That seemed to mix with the anxiety you were feeling about whatever was going on with those policemen tonight, why was he not following? Was he already there? Is it about what’s had him so occupied the last few weeks?

The unanswered questions of worry and giddy feelings of adoration put you in a seemingly never-ending loop of anxiety that you were completely unable to come out no matter how hard-

Thump thump thump 

You sat up, almost giving yourself whiplash with how you turned to look at your window. 

Thump thump

They were weaker that time, uh oh.

[keerysfreckles]

secret - peter parker (tasm)

pairing: tasm!peter x f!reader

summary: peter goes to y/n, his best friends twin sister, to help patch up his wounds.

warnings: use of y/n and she!her pronouns, maybe two swear words, small makeout seshhh

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

y/n wasn't doing anything unusual on her saturday night. she always watched a movie before falling asleep so tonight was no different while high school musical was displayed on the tv in her bedroom.

however the only difference tonight was a knocking sound came from her bedroom window. y/n, now confused, walked towards the sound and opened the curtain. she was most certainly taken aback by the brunette boy crouching on her fire escape.

"peter? what the hell are you doing here?" y/n asks while opening her window. the question having two meanings; why peter was in her room, or why peter was on her fire escape. she's quiet with helping peter threw the small window, not wanting her brother to hear from the room next to hers.

"i'm supposed to hang out with josh, but-" before peter finishes his sentence he lifts his shirt, revealing three giant gashes across his torso. y/n gasps before covering her mouth.

"peter what happened?"

"i uh- tripped?" he simply shrugs it off before sitting at the foot of the bed. he places his backpack down and is quick to zip it up, encasing the red and blue fabric inside.

"just stay here," y/n starts to walk to her bedroom door, "and please dont make any noise."

peter only laughs, at y/n's words and the disney musical playing on her tv. his head turns as y/n walks back inside with a white box. peter guesses it's a first aid kit.

y/n walks around the boy, and sits on his right side. "lay down," y/n instructs. peter obeys, as he lays back on the comforter. his eyes watch the slow moving ceiling fan to distract him from the cold wipes y/n uses to wipe the excess blood off of his skin.

"sorry," y/n whispers, and peter lets out a small response, before grimacing again.

"how did this even happen?" y/n asks, while starting to patch up the open wounds with gauze and medical tape.

peter doesn't respond at first, as he's not entirely sure if he should lie or tell the girl the truth. her own brother doesn't even know about peter's secret.

"pete?" y/n voice is softer than before, and she looked him in the eyes now. she had just finished patching up the third and final wound.

peter sits up slightly and leans on his elbows. "can i tell you something?"

y/n simply nods and watches peter take a deep breath.

"do you ever notice how i disappear a lot whenever i hang out with you and josh?"

y/n nods again.

"it's not because i have catchup homework or i remembered aunt may needed something," peter looked up at y/n, before taking in another breath. "i'm spiderman."

"what?" peter could barely hear y/n's voice, but he could certainly hear the confusion.

peter gets off the bed and hands the girl his backpack. she only looks at him once before unzipping it. a small gasp leaves her lips when she pulls out a red and blue spandex suit.

"so you're really spiderman," y/n looks over the suit.

she looks up at peter who only responds with a dopey half-smile, which only makes her laugh. "how did this even happen?" she asks, and refers to the suit in her hands.

"i was sorta bitten by a radioactive spider at the place gwen used to work at," peter explains.

"wait so what exactly did that do?" y/n's genuine curiosity shocks peter. he was mostly worried she'd never want to talk to him again, or freak out and tell her brother.

peter rolls the sleeves up of his longsleeve shirt and shows the girl the black bands on his wrists. he chuckles as her eyebrows furrow. peter simply shoots a web towards the backpack on the bed, and is quick to hold it in his hand.

he chuckles again at y/n's reaction. "holy shit!" y/n's jaw is to the floor as she's amazed by the boy in front of her. "what else can you do?"

once again, peter lets out a laugh, before he drops the backpack on the ground. y/n watches peter stand on her bed and jump. his hand touches the ceiling which leaves the boy hanging there. y/n laughs before covering her mouth and watches peter bring his other limbs up as he starts to crawl on her ceiling.

"that's so cool!" y/n exclaims while peter lands on his feet with a thud.

y/n stands with the first aid kit to put it back in the bathroom, however she feels a small tug at the back of her shirt.

"i can also do this," peter states, before y/n twirls back towards peter until she's right in front of him. she looks down at the white stringy web now wrapped around her waist.

before she can get a single word out, peter's lips meet hers. his hands hold her waist until one moves to cup her cheek. after y/n's first reaction of shock fades away, her hands rest on peter's shoulders, before her hands interlock behind his neck.

the kiss is quick to heaten up. peter moves y/n to her bed and leans her down, with him hovering over her. y/n's hands are now on peter's jaw as she caresses over his skin, and peter feels nothing but butterflies in his stomach.

much to the two teenagers dismay, they pull away from each slightly and both catch their breath.

both y/n and peter's heads turn at the sound of a rattling doorknob. peter's quick to lock it as he shoots a web across the room.

"y/n?" josh calls from the other side of the door. "i heard a loud thud from my room. you okay?"

y/n's eyes scan her floor and she internally groans at herself for dropping the first aid kit from earlier.

she's quick to come up with a lie, "yeah i uh- just dropped my history books."

y/n's shoulders relax as josh responds, "oh okay, just checking."

as soon as josh's door closing could be heard from y/n's room, peter questions, "where were we?"

[literaila]

hey v ! what about peter and reader getting ready to go somewhere and after reader puts on some red lipstick peter can't stop kissing her ?

lipstick

warnings: ugh, peter

*

“how many times have you done that?”

peter is standing behind you, leaning against the wall, probably ruining your focus, or your makeup, or your sanity. he’s probably staring just to mess with you.

you refrain from smiling in the mirror. wipe a smudge with your nail. “i don’t know, peter,” you meet his eyes, and his nefarious smirk. “how many times have you watched me do it?”

“i got lost somewhere around the first time.”

you laugh at him, crumbling the napkin you’ve been using, now filled with kiss marks, and turning it around so you can throw it at peter. “are you sick?” you ask him.

instead of answering, he licks his lip and unfolds the napkin, staring at the red marks, creases and tireless efforts arranged in a messy pattern. “this is like art.”

“why are you acting like you’ve never seen anyone wear lipstick before?”

“what?” he asks, hand to his chest. “i cant watch you get ready? i’m banned from being in the bathroom when you are?”

“yes, and yes.”

it does not escape your notice when peter tucks the napkin into his pocket for safekeeping.

he shrugs. “i don’t mind breaking the rules.”

you scoff at him and pat his shoulder as you walk past him through the doorway. “i would’ve locked you out if i knew you were going to be weird about it.”

“weird? how am i being weird?”

“you were lurking. you’re still lurking.”

“i’m talking to my girlfriend. that’s part of our contract.”

“you’re following me.”

peter smiles. “well, i like you.”

you roll your eyes, almost—almost—smiling when you feel his arms wrap around your waist. “please don’t make me argue about your stalker like tendencies.”

“we don’t have to argue,” peter says, kissing the space beneath your ear. his breath is hot.

“i need to put my shoes on, peter.”

he smiles, his teeth clashing against your skin like a dreadful reminder. some type of jumpscare—minus the fact that you merely lean into him, sans jumping. “we can spare fifteen minutes.”

“how can you be thinking about anything besides the fact that we’re already late to meet may?”

he nibbles on the skin by your collarbone, then licks it, as reprieve. “it must be the lipstick.”

“you’ve literally seen me with lipstick before. i wore some on our first date.”

“‘s probably why i like it so much.”

his lips are needy as they crawl around your skin. his hands are stationary, but they pose their own threat as they lurk.

“peter, we have to go.”

“i’m not known for my punctuality,” he spins you around, his lips curled in mischief, “you know.”

“i’m aware.”

you refuse to indulge him. your brows furrow, your hands held in the air—just so you can avoid accidentally touching him. purposefully.

“then why are you so worried?” peter asks, kissing your cheek.

“i’m not kissing you,” you say, instead of answering.

“you’re not?” peter pouts like a child. he is far too grown.

“no.”

“how come?”

you try to pull away from him, but, shockingly, peter is stronger than you are. your will is weak. “you’re going to smudge my lipstick. i just finished.”

“you have more, don’t you?”

“not the point.”

“what?” he asks, his voice so serious and teasing. “you don’t want to kiss me?”

“no, i do not.”

you look away from him, admiring a wall that has always been there.

“are you sure?” peter asks, ducking so he can catch your eyes again, because he is nothing if not cruel.

you break, pouting. “peter,” you whine, “we’re not going to be late again.”

“i think we are.”

“you can kiss me when we get home later,” you promise, trying again to wiggle out of his grasp.

“that is a terrible compromise.”

“you won’t compromise,” you snap back. “what else am i supposed to do?”

peter grins, tilting his head. “okay. i have an idea. how about i kiss you, and then we leave? you don’t even have to kiss back, even though we’d both prefer it that way.”

“i’ll kiss you,” you mock him. “you’re the worst negotiator i’ve ever met.”

“then how come we haven’t left yet?”

you scowl at him, and he scowls back, but his eyes are alight.

your skin is ravenous with an ache to touch him, he’s so close that kissing him would be nothing—merely breathing, really—but you don’t want to lose this game to peter. and you dont want him to stop looking at you.

he pretends to check a watch. “hmm, it’s getting awfully late.”

“are you british all of the sudden?”

peter grins, biting his lip before he tries to bite you. you lean away. “if you like my accent, all you have to do is say so.”

“i like it when you get out of my way, and stop trying to sabotage me. i like that a lot.”

“no clue what you mean, dear.”

you roll your eyes and manage to cross your arms in his hold.

“i wonder how we could solve this,” peter muses, tapping his finger on your waist. “it’s a big problem.”

“i could leave you behind and have lunch with may myself.”

“that’s one option.”

you roll your eyes again.

“i was thinking something else, though,” peter says, and he’s closer now, but you’re sure that you never saw him move. “something more… proactive.”

“shove it, peter.”

“you don’t even want to hear it?”

you sigh, leaning your chest into him, out of pure delusion. “fine. what?”

peter smiles at you, eyes catching eyes.

the look on his face is soft, delirious. he’s got that look in his eyes, and that smile on his face, and he’s still staring at you like he’s mesmerized by whatever you’re doing.

“what?” you repeat, but softly, like you can’t find your voice in the chest cavity peters taken hold of.

“kiss me,” he says, softly, and it’s really not your fault that his lips are already brushing yours.

and it’s not your fault when you lean in, sighing in relief at the mere feel of him.

you’re almost breathless, from the tiniest of kisses.

but then you kiss peter again, and again, and your hands finally wrap around him—keeping hold of something real in this fake reality—and your voice isn’t your own when you groan at peter for making you do this.

you have evacuated your body. you have lost common sense.

but it doesn’t matter, because kissing peter has always made you forget all of that.

and it still does, when he pulls back, grinning like he’s won. “see?” he says, voice ragged. “it was simple.”

“we’re going to be late and it’s your fault.”

peter laughs, kissing you again, staring at your red lips. “gladly. i’ll take all the blame.”

“and you’re making it up to me later.”

“whatever you say,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your bottom lip.

he releases you and watches as you finally put on your shoes.

you don’t think it necessary to mention the red marks on his lips. it’s not like it’s your fault they’re there.

*

[lovelettersforthedamned]

sex pollen with tasm?

Interlinked

--genre + trope: sex pollen, SMUT, fluff, nsfw.

--pairing: tasm!peter parker x afab!reader

--word count: 1.5k

--warnings: SMUT, unprotected PinV (don't even think about it), multiple orgasms, creampie, kissing, mentions of being sore, fluff at the end.

--gif credits: @tvandfilm

If you could live in this moment, you would. You’re sitting on Peter’s bed, faint rhythms of his music playing in the background. Having your laptop open, you were able to look through the work you needed to finish before the day was done. Having Peter next to you puts you in a state of ease. You knew he was right next to you, you knew he was safe. 

Peter’s spent the last hour or so working on new varieties of web fluid, mixing together different chemicals to see if anything would change. He already had a few things in a large beaker, swirling it around occasionally, when he mixed in a powder of some sort. The reaction caused a small ignition, causing you to look up from your spot on the mattress. “What was that,” you ask, looking for his reaction to gauge how severe this was. 

He rises from his chair, “I’m not sure, but let’s open the windows.”

You climb towards the windows of his room, pulling them open to let fresh air in, and whatever was in the air, out. You weren’t aware of this yet, but your skin was absorbing the particles in the air, and every breath you took allowed the unknown reaction to enter your system. And, of course, Peter was in the direct line of the reaction, causing the particles to make their way directly onto his face, the fragments fluttering onto his cheeks. 

Peter’s heightened senses caused him to feel the effects of the reaction much quicker than you. His pupils dilated, the hairs on his arms stand, and he starts to feel warm. Stepping away from the window, he looks over at you, and suddenly, he is hyperfocused on you. The smell of the perfume you applied hours ago is now flooding his nose, your heart rate has elevated, and much to your dismay, he also took note of the growing wetness in between your thighs. 

You’re the first to speak up, “Pete,” your voice is shaky with concern, “What’s going on? Why do I feel weird?”

He rubs his hands along his face, trying to come up with an answer, but the growing ache in his cock cuts him short, “Bug, I–I don’t know, but I need to go.” He doesn’t know what’s happening, but his now primal urge to get to you scares him. He needed to get away from you.

His answer only made you more nervous, “Wait! Baby, don’t leave.” You reach out, grabbing his hand. The touch between you two felt like waves of pure energy, you pulled your hand back quickly, rubbing the area that just touched him, “Please, don’t leave, I’m scared and I don’t know what to do, especially not alone.”

“I’m sorry…I just–I’m so confused, I–,” he’s cut off by a kiss. 

You were hungry for him, your lips devouring his. Peter didn’t seem to care, he needed this as much as you did. Craving more of his touch, your hands reach down towards the bottom of his torso. You slide your palms along the sides of his shirt, running them along the front of him, quickly undressing him in the process. As soon as you reached the top of his chest, you slipped the shirt over his head, tossing the garment over your shoulder. 

He unlatches from your lips, takes a breath, and mutters the last coherent sentence said for the rest of the night, “Will you let me have you tonight?” A smirk displays itself on your lips, and an eager nod gives him all he needs at that moment. 

Walking towards the bed, you stumble back blindly before the back of your knees are met with the bed, causing you to fall back onto the plush mattress. Peter stands above you, licking his lips as he places himself above you, caging you in his arms. Attacking your lips, Peter moves one of his hands to palm at the flesh of your hip, reaching underneath your underwear to make direct contact with your bare skin. 

You moan into his mouth, the skin-to-skin contact igniting a wave of pleasure to flow to your core. He takes note of your increased desperation for more of his touch, moving his hand from your hip to your aching clit, making small circles on the slick skin. Arching your back into his chest, you reach your hands up to grasp at his shoulders, the sudden pleasure shocking you. Peter unlatches from your lips to look at you below him, the sight making his cock ache with need. It only takes a few more circles on your clit to make you cum, but still, you needed more. 

You waste no time, pulling off every piece of clothing on your body, before you reach down towards Peter’s jeans, pushing them down as far as possible before Peter has to kick the rest of them off. There’s a silent exchange of glances before he lines up with your entrance. A quick nod signals to Peter that you’re ready. 

Lifting both of your ankles to rest on his shoulders, he finally pushes inside of you. The world around you stops. For a few seconds, there is a sigh of relief, the ache you’ve been meaning to satisfy has dissipated. You thought you found the cure, but the clench of your walls snapped you out of your relief. Peter seemed to realize this too as a moan left his lips, his head dipping forward. The desperation returned, and you needed Peter to move. “Baby…pl–please. Move,” you manage to mumble. 

He starts to sink into you further, stretching you out in the process. Every movement causes you to squeeze him a little tighter, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to last, especially with those whimpers leaving your mouth. He can’t stand to keep moving at this pace, every second spent not pounding you into the mattress is a second wasted. He needs you, desperately. Peter pulls almost all the way out, exerting a pathetic whine from you before he slams back into your entrance. The pressure of his cock dragging along your walls made you claw at his neck, the angle of your legs pressed against your chest making you see stars. 

You’re not sure how long he’s been fucking you, but your hips have started to become sore, and the number of times you’ve come is blurring between four or five times. The effects of whatever hit you earlier are slowly wearing off, but Peter hasn’t let up. If you had to guess, you would assume that his senses and increased stamina have allowed him to feel everything you felt, but increased tenfold. 

It’s gotten to the point where you know that Peter’s not even trying to make you cum again, he’s using you for his own pleasure, and that in itself is enough for you to cum again and again and again. His hips stutter and his brows furrow, you know he’s right there, he’s just about to cum, and it’s killing him. Bringing your hand up to hold his cheek, he snaps his eyes open, tears are lining his waterline. You pull his face down, connecting your lips together. The extra touch of your lips pushes him over the edge. As he finishes inside of you, he lets out a grunt into your mouth, this action alone making you moan back, the thought of him cumming inside of you lights a fire inside of you. 

Your lips detach from his, taking a deep breath before you feel Peter’s fingers reach up toward your calves, slowly bringing them down onto the bed. He guides them down, knowing that the position has led to soreness in their hips. When you feel the plush blanket touch your thighs, you finally are able to come to your senses. 

Peter comes down to lay next to you on his stomach, looking at your side profile. Closing your eyes, you feel the weight of exhaustion finally hit you. There’s no way you’re leaving this bed any time soon, and Peter knows that too. You don’t feel Peter’s warmth next to you anymore. Opening your eyes, you look over to where he should’ve been, then to the doorway. There he was, holding a glass of water, walking to your side, and placing it on the table next to you. 

Then, falling into the bed, he remains next to you. “Whatever you did for that web fluid,” your voice cutting through the silent air, “write it down, and make sure to put it somewhere safe.” 

You’re still looking up at the ceiling as Peter grabs your hand, raising it to his lips and giving you a kiss, “I will, I will. I’ll lock it up…only until you ask me to use it again.” Looking towards him, a stupid smile is firmly locked onto his lips, a hint of amusement in his eyes. 

You shake your head in disbelief, “Oh, like you won’t want to use it again next week.”

“We’ll see about that, bug.”

--author's note: this is my favorite smut trope, and i'm still awful at writing it LMAOOO. also what happened to these remaining blurbs??? my incapability to write smut blurbs is insane, but anyways i hope you liked it!!! also the gif??? i'm foaming at the mouth and ripping at these iron bars...don't forget to support your writers by liking, commenting, and reblogging!! KEEP SENDING IN ASKS!!! my inbox is open my loves! ok, bye ily<3

[moonstruckme]

hi!

can i request tasm!peter meeting reader after having to do long distance?

if not thats okay! love your writing:)

have a great day<3

Thanks lovely, hope you have a great day as well!

Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 683 words

You don’t just give out copies of the key to your apartment, so when the front door opens you think you’re about to be shot. 

Breath caught in your throat, you freeze in the hallway and say the first deterrent that comes to mind. “I’ve got a gun!” 

The laughter that responds is as familiar as it is cheeky. “No, you don’t,” Peter says. 

“Jesus.” Your heart starts again, and in that split second your feet are already moving. 

Peter opens his arms as you throw yourself at him, taking your weight happily. “Nope, just me,” he quips, his harsh grip at odds with the levity of his voice. 

“Still a bad joke.” Your own voice is thick with fondness. You press your face into his neck, getting your boyfriend as close as you can. “What are you doing here?” 

“I live here.” He gives your upper back an excited squeeze. “You miss me?” 

“Not even,” you mumble into his shoulder. You go ahead and wrap your legs around his waist, and Peter chuckles, starting to walk the both of you towards your couch. “You scared the shit out of me, you know.”

“Yeah, maybe not my best plan.” He collapses downward, and you fold yourself around him more completely, getting comfortable in his lap. You think you’ll just never leave, honestly. “I thought the surprise would be more fun than scary.” 

“I could’ve met you at the airport.” 

“May would’ve killed me.” He palms the back of your neck, lips finding your hairline. “She wanted to pick me up herself, but she’s letting you have me for dinner. I have to be back by ten.” 

You let out a petulant whine. “Why does she get to decide?” 

You adore Peter’s aunt and he knows it, but when you’re having to battle her for custody of your boyfriend all that love goes right out the window. 

“I know,” Peter commiserates. “You’d think after a semester of taking care of myself in another country, I’d be allowed to stay out until at least eleven.” 

You hum, vacating your spot in the juncture of his neck in favor of seeing his face. You pet down the cowlick at the crown of his head, and Peter catches your hand, kissing your palm. A warm thrumming starts up in your chest. It’s similar to the sensation you’d gotten during your evening calls while Peter was abroad (well, your evening, his late night), but more. Better. You’ve missed feeling it like this. 

“How was Hertfordshire?” you ask. 

Peter gives you a look like you’re being silly. “I told you already.” 

“It’s different in person.” 

He smiles, thinking. “Small. Grassy. Cute, but not much to swing off of.” There’d been no vigilante work while Peter did his research abroad. He talked like it was a welcome break, but you could tell he missed it. Something changes in his look, eyes going soft and flirty. “No pretty girls.” 

You bite back a smile. “Let’s not do the women of Hertfordshire a disservice,” you chide.

“Fine.” Peter rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “None of my pretty girl.” 

He lifts his chin and you oblige him, touching your lips to his. It’s a kiss months in the making, and it heats quicker than either of you are expecting. Your heart thunders and throbs to the point of aching. You shuffle closer in Peter’s lap and his hand presses into the small of your back, both of your breathing turning harsh and desperate. 

“Missed you,” he says into your mouth. 

“I missed you more.” 

“Wanna bet?” Peter lifts you off the couch, and his casual strength shouldn’t surprise you anymore but it does. You laugh, again wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“Shouldn’t we start to think about dinner?” you ask as he carries you towards your bedroom. 

He hums, reluctant. “What time is it?” 

You look to the side to check the clock on your microwave, and he kisses your cheekbone while you do. “Almost seven.” 

Peter hums against your skin, pressing another kiss to the side of your nose. “We’ve got time.”