#andrew garfield is my Peter

[siriuslyli]

Wade: I'm so hot even life gets hard

Matt: ...

Peter: pls stop

Wade: I gotta print that on a T-shirt

[aeterna-auroral-avenger]

Don’t mind me…I’m just thinking about how spiders are naturally talented and skilled weavers and they know how to weave their webs and even make functional, stylish homes and nests and whatnot.

So maybe that’s why Spider-Man knows how to sew his suits. He inherited that trait from the spider and just instinctively know how to weave his suits. Maybe. That’s my explanation for it.

[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.

[obriy]

[tundrapancake]

getting into the swing (ha ha) of things again 🕷️

[withahappyrefrain]

I wish you would write a fic where... College!Tasm!Peter gets reaallyyy jealous at Reader talking to her ex bf and fucks her on his bed until she’s a bumbling mess 🫣

I think it's time for blonde!Peter to come back

It was stupid. Absolutely ridiculous.

You were barely engaged in the conversation, more focused on the condensation forming on your red solo cup than what your ex had to say.

The interaction shouldn't have bothered him. You were his. Hell, you were even wearing his snapback.

And yet, his blood still boiled at the sight. His hands still balled up into fists. Wade joked that he could steam coming out of Peter's ears.

The dickbag was trying to flirt. Key word was try.

It was awkward as hell, clearly trying to evoke the 'oh remember how much fun we had, minus the part where I ghosted you and refused to eat you out because I'm a little bitch?' card. Every step he took towards you, you'd take a step away. With your arms crossed and the way your eyes focused on anything other than him, it should have been obvious you weren't interested.

And yet, the fucker still had the audacity to put his hand on your shoulder and squeeze it.

Peter didn't have to wait for you to send him the look. He was over there immediately, arm wrapped around your waist.

"She's busy," was all Peter curtly said, before picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

Despite your shrieks, you didn't mind it.

Nor did you mind when he brought you to his bedroom.

You especially didn't mind when he had you on your back, knees pressed to your chest as he thrust into you.

"You look so good underneath me babe," He grunted, eyebrows knitted in concentration as he watched your body wither from his touch.

"Y-yeah," his touch was overwhelming, your body reeling from your previous orgasms.

Peter simply smirked, his fingers trailing down to right above where your bodies connected.

Jolts of pleasure sparked throughout your body as his long fingers drew circles on your clit. The band in your stomach kept getting tighter and tighter with each thrust. His teeth sink into your exposed collarbone, eliciting a gasp from your lips.

Only he got to see you like this, back arched with your head thrown back in pleasure. Only he got to make you feel like this, causing your cunt to clench and spasm in pleasure around his cock.

No one else.

"You gonna come again baby? Let me hear it. Let them all hear how much you love my cock."

Normally his dirty words would fluster you. Your cheeks still burn, but this time they're intensifying the ache between your legs, fueling your need to be consumed by him and only him.

What could best be described as a broken wail fell from your lips. In reality, it was doubtful that those in the hallway could hear you over the blaring music. But the idea that maybe they could hear you, could hear the bed frame slam against the wall, could hear the grunts Peter was letting out as you fell apart around his cock, fueled a deeper desire in you two.

Your hands weakly grabbed his bleached hair, making a feeble attempt to tug on the thick locks.

"Don't worry baby, not done with ya. Fuck no," Peter's chuckle was dry, his body trying to hold on, trying to stall off his own release, "You're gonna come again. Whatcha think about that? Ya wanna fall apart on my cock again?"

A whine fell from your lips. Sensitivity surged through your body, mixing with the euphoric pleasure.

"I......I, Peter I-" what were you even asking for?

"Aw, is my baby already fucked dumb from my cock? You're so smart, until my cock is inside ya. Can't focus on anything else can ya?"

"Peter....want...." Normally you were so good at multitasking. But with the way his cock was thrusting in and out of your soaked entrance, the idea of being able to focus on anything other than the sensation between your legs seemed next to impossible.

"C'mon baby," His breath is hot against your ear, "Use ya words."

A feeble moan fell from your lips as you shook your head. It was too much, but somehow also not enough.

What did you want? The words were on the tip of your tongue, tricking you into thinking you could express them, only to run away as soon as Peter's cock brushed against that one spot that made you see stars behind your eyelids.

"C'mon, use your words," His speed increases, his hands now grabbing the flesh of your hips as he drives into you, "What. Do. You. Want?"

Each word is emphasized with a pointed thrust. His honeyed eyes are overtaken with lust, irises overblown by a pure black. The scent of cinnamon is overwhelming your nostrils as his stubbled jawline brushes against yours.

It's only when you feel his cock twitch inside of you that you find the words, now driven by a red hot burning need.

"Want your cum! Want your cum inside me, please, want it so bad, wanna be filled with you, want you to fill me up, please Peter!"

His thrusts slow down, which you think is done to tease. In reality, Peter knows if he doesn't, he'll come immediately. And he wants to draw this out as long as possible. Wants people to notice that you and him have been gone for quite some time.

Peter's imagining your stupid ex still lingering around. Dumbass was probably wondering how you two weren't done yet, given the man's notorious record for the quickest, saddest sex ever.

"Peter-"

"I got ya baby," he leaned down, hovering over your body as he pulled your thighs to his hips. He was now (somehow) deeper inside of you, hips rutting into yours.

"Gonna fill you up real good. Make you mine." You can only whine at his words, your body overstimulated from the immense pleasure.

His lips swallowed your moans. You didn't even need to look, you could feel that smirk radiating off of him. A deep groan fell from his lips when he felt your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him even closer.

Between the bass from the outside music vibrating the floor to the smell of cinnamon that always engulfed Peter, you felt completely at bliss, content for him to continue to use you until his own release.

With one final tug on his hair, Peter's hips stuttered before coming inside of you. What were once moans and wood slamming filling the room were now heavy pants as you both tried to catch your breath.

"That was...wow."

Peter lifted his head up, a boyish grin overtaking gus face, "Was? Who said we were done?"

"Peter....you already..." You froze upon realizing he was still hard. Still inside of you.

"Perks of a radioactive spider bite. I'm far from done with you babygirl."

You were in for a long night.

[sincericida]

Some things never change about my favorite scientist.

[bcyhoods]

LOVEFOOL 💌 — “you feel like home to me” with tasm!peter PUH-LEASE I ALREADY KNOW IM GONNA GET EMOTIONAL

muah ha ha. angsty spidey is my favorite spidey, how did you know | 0.9k

warnings: injuries, brief mention of reader being used as leverage but no explicit/graphic detail

“I don’t know if I can do this, Peter.”

Your hand hovers over the scrape on his cheek when your gaze drops to the mask that’s clenched in his hand. He sits on the edge of your bed, looking up at you as you stand in between his legs.

He’s bathed in the dull, orange glow of your lamp. It highlights every welt, every cut, every matted strand of hair that sticks to the damp skin of his forehead. It makes your eyes sting.

“What do you mean? You’re a natural,” he says. His hand settles on your hip to give it a gentle squeeze. The gesture makes you believe for a second that he’s genuinely clueless.

But his eyes refuse to meet yours. The smile that he wears is uneasy as he wrings his mask.

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

He hangs his head low. Guilt tightens its grip on his throat making it hard to breathe.

You were already well aware of his secret identity before you’d started dating. He warned you of the risks and used them to try scaring you away before you could break his heart. But you stayed. You stayed and, god, he was so glad you did.

Though, he blames his adoration for what happened to you.

He would keep a close eye on you to make sure you were safe. His routine neighborhood watch would consist of making sure you got to and from work safely, occasionally dropping by on your lunch breaks to check on you. He was careless, but he didn’t anticipate things would go south so quickly.

The guy wasn’t a super villain, nor was he anything special by any means, but he was observant. And why would Spiderman be visiting some random bodega cashier so often unless you meant something to him?

It was practically over as quick as it started. The guy couldn’t even finish demanding his ransom before Peter had arrived to web him to the ceiling. You escaped with a few injuries, the worst being a palm-shaped bruise on your wrist. But Peter was fuming.

You were used as bait. You were leverage against Spiderman because he’d been so reckless. You got hurt because of him. You were lucky this time, but there was no telling if that luck would run out and the thought terrified him. Despite your gentle words of reassurance, he had made up his mind.

He would never forgive himself if he lost you. So he broke it off.

“I know.”

It would’ve been easier if you didn’t see each other after that. You think you’d feel differently if you weren’t frequently in his presence, nursing him back to health. Maybe if you didn’t exchange longing gazes and soft touches that were reserved for people that are more than friends. If he didn’t look at you like you held his heart in your hands, maybe you’d be stronger.

“Why do you keep coming back here?” He feels his chest tighten at the crack in your voice, even more so when you push his hand away.

“You leave your window open,” he whispers.

A scoff falls from your lips and you turn your back to him to wipe away the rogue tears that run down your face. He stares at your figure with a frown and hands that ache to reach out for you.

Peter Parker then decides he doesn’t want to be a hero. Heroes can’t afford to be selfish and put their own happiness above the wellbeing of others. Being with you would jeopardize your safety. It’d be selfish of him. He could never be with you like he wanted, craved, so long as he wore that suit. Can’t he have both?

He’s exhibited enough altruism to last him a lifetime, anyway. Certainly it was enough to hold you just for one night.

“I just needed to see you,” he sighs, voice meek.

“Peter, I think you should—”

“There’s never a day that I don’t think about you,” he interjects. He doesn’t exactly know when he started to cry. Suddenly his eyesight was blurry and he couldn’t breathe through his nose.

“Please.” The word pushes out like a sob. Your hand shoots to clamp over your mouth to hush the whimpers, but he can hear them.

“I’m serious, I…” He stands and moves to put his hands on your shoulders. His mask is forgotten on the floor. “Being away from you, it makes me feel crazy. Like I can’t breathe.”

“Don’t say that.” You turn in his hold to shrug his hands off, but you don’t try too hard. A sob racks through your chest once more when you see his pained expression. His nose is red and his cheeks are wet and his brows are sewed together. “Don’t tell me that, just go home,” you plead.

“You feel like home to me!” There’s a humorless laugh that accompanies the confession, it’s one of frustration. But the softness in his glassy eyes is unmistakable and it makes you melt under his stare.

“Please don’t cry,” he begs with a deep frown. He reaches to hold your face in his hands as he wipes the tears from under your eyes. The material of his gloves is rough and pulls at your skin uncomfortably, but you can’t help leaning into his touch.

He crowds your being. He towers over you so closely that you can feel his bated breath fanning your skin. You reach to hold onto his forearms, letting your eyes close to revel in the closeness. Peter presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, then to each of your cheeks, then your nose. He stops short of your lips.

“Say the word and I’ll leave. You know I will.”

“Don’t go,” you concede.

You’re not really sure what repercussions this will have tomorrow morning. You can’t really bring yourself to care when he kisses you.

[unstablecryptid]

The Amazing Spiderman (2012) - bts

[neytui]

I don't know if you guys have seen THAT new Andrew Garfield outfit but he's literally Peter

[baltharino]

[siriuslysmoking]

Movie Marathon with Peter Parker

A/N: Day 3!! My love for Christmas movies is showing in this.

"Haaawt!" Peter pants out.

"Is it hot?" You smirk as you take a drink of your own hot chocolate.

"Nope," He huffs, "Freezing cold."

You smile as he sits down next to you. "What first?"

"Start with The Grinch, then Elf, then the Santa Clauses, ending with Home Alone." You smile at him.

"Sounds good." He laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. "Good thing you took off tomorrow."

"Good thing." You lean against his chest, balancing mug against your stomach.

One movie through, you still sat up in attention and Peter dozed off slightly to your right. "SANTA!!!"

"Ah!" Peter wakes with a fright. "Jeez."

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and mutters something about popcorn while walking around the couch, to the kitchen. "Be quick!"

He hums in agreement, tossing the popcorn bag in the microwave behind you.

When he sits back down you cuddle back into him, pulling the blanket over your shoulders, and put your feet on the coffee table next to your discard hot cocoa mug. "Thank you."

"You enjoy this, so I enjoy this." He smiles, kissing the top of you head.

"You smell like beef and cheese." You softly whisper to him.

"You're lucky I love you."

"So lucky."

-

-

Taglist: @bunnyweasley23 @arinexeisnotworking

[webslingingslasher]

Oh, Baby.

What happens when you realize your period is late and you may or may not be pregant?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Genre: Fluff/angst

Word Count: 3.1K

Pure terror ran through your body on the way to Peter’s apartment. 

Usually it was a slight anxiety, the shaking of your leg in anticipation to see your boy; or the fingertips you tapped on the subway pole when there was no space to sit so your hands were forced to mimic the beat of the music running through your headphones. 

Usually you had a half grin, love sick look on your face knowing after the 10 minute train ride you would be in Peter’s room, in his bed with him all over you. He would kiss down your face, and you would push him away after he starts to blow raspberries on your neck. 

“Peter,” You would whine, moving your head away while simultaneously pushing lightly at his chest. “Stop, my neck tingles!” It was always the same complaint, the vibration of his lips and warm breath sent chills down your spine while also slightly buzzing a part in your brain that made you squirm far away. Then, Peter would laugh at your reaction like he always does and will give you the same ‘I’m not sorry’ look and say “I’m sorry baby, let me make it up,” and he would pull you into a kiss that left you pushing him off you in a different way. 

You would ask him for help with homework and he would walk you through it, sometimes explaining the same thing 4 times but slightly different each way so he could help you understand it the best way possible. He would kiss the tip on your nose, then your eyebrow and say “That’s it baby!” when he looked over your shoulder and watched you do the practice question he wrote down with no help. 

You would look over at Peter and have that same exploding love feeling that built up so ferociously that you felt like you were seconds from death if you didn't kiss him, or feel his skin on yours in that moment. And you would kiss Peter, and he would eventually lay you back on his bed and slowly both of you would pull each other's clothes off. 

So, usually you couldn’t wait to see him. 

But, today you were stoic. No excited foot taps, no headphones in either, the thoughts in your head were loud enough to block out any surrounding sounds. You didn’t even tell Peter you were coming over, scared you would let the reasoning slip. You hated to surprise him with this but you were too. No, blindsided. You were blindsided. 

“Hi.” Your words sounded timid. You looked at him in the doorway, eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw you behind the door. 

He caught on immediately, “Hi. You okay?” 

He pushed the door open and stepped to the side to have you enter. He noticed your silence in regard to his question. You pulled him into a tight hug, your arms wrapped around his middle and you squeezed, your head fully buried into his stomach, if you tried to get a big breath in your air was trapped in the cotton of his shirt. Peter let out a small ‘oof’ before wrapping his own arms around you. 

“Hi.” You repeated, you closed your eyes against him. You could feel the tears gathering behind your eyelids. 

Peter lent his mouth against the top of your head. He smelled your hair and whispered back, “Hi,” then repeated his question, “Are you alright?” 

You gave him a final squeeze and pulled back. His brown doe eyes looked into yours, his eyes told you he was concerned he looked at your face and saw the frown, your eyes looked red, you looked nervous, scared even. 

You swallowed hard, “Can we talk?” 

Peter let you push him down by his shoulders unto his bed, he kept quiet and gave you his undivided attention. He watched you open your mouth, he could see the frustrated look on your face when you couldn’t form the words you wanted to say. He tilted his head slightly, giving you the ‘It’s okay, it’s just me’ look. 

You looked down, not being able to look him in the eye in shame. 

“I can’t do this.” You mumbled, trying to find the words. 

“Do what?” Peter’s voice had an edge.

“This.” You motioned between the two of you. 

“Use your words.” He sat straighter, bracing himself for the blow you were about to deliver. 

He watched you as you let a few tears drop. You looked away from him, he shouldn’t have to go through this with you. He was a kid, and so were you. But he had more responsibilities than any other kid you could think of at this age, Spider-Man, being top of the class, juggling friends and May between giving you all the time in the world. He shouldn’t have to deal with this, nor should you. It was unfair. 

You shook your head. If you spoke now the dam would break and you wouldn’t be able to say anything. 

“Y/N, If you’re going to break up with me I need you to say it.” Peter spoke with authority and your eyes went wide. 

“No! No! I’m not-” You dropped off, not even wanting to say the words. 

“I’m not- I wouldn’t do that, okay?” 

“I just-” You felt the tears coming, you couldn’t stop them. You broke into a sob, “Please don’t be mad at me.” You felt the air leave your lungs, you couldn’t fucking breathe, the room felt like it was closing in and all you wanted was Peter to hug you and tell you it would be okay. Because that’s what Peter did, he never knew what it was but the first instinct was always to say it would be okay because for the better part it usually would. 

He pulled you down unto his lab by your hand and pushed you into his chest, letting his heartbeat fall into your ear. He ran a hand down your hair, he felt you sob and rack breaths against his shoulder. He was shushing you before you broke into a loop of half crying and half choking repeating the words “please don’t be mad at me,” and ‘i’m sorry,”  over and over.

You noticed it 2 hours ago. It was all because you replaced the toilet paper. 

You had gone into your bathroom cabinet looking for the extra toilet paper rolls you kept stashed underneath and you saw your tampon box. You thought, “Huh, I haven’t had my period yet this month.” And shrugged, it was no biggie, a few days late didn’t matter. You weren't on birth control, Peter used condoms and that was fine. You had a scheduled period without it being scheduled, usually it was around the same week each month, but when you actually thought about it you had to ask, ‘Wait. When was my last period?’ 

The instant panic set in, you looked at your phone calendar. 3 weeks. You were 3 weeks late. It wasn’t a few days, it wasn’t even a week off course. It was a month. You couldn’t be, no way. It happened to people sure, but not you, not Peter. It wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this. 

You paced around your room at first in denial. ‘No, I’m not pre- Stop. Don’t even think about that, you’re fine, it’s okay. I’m not-” You looked at your phone, thumb hovering over Peter’s contact name, you almost called him, but settled for an in person meeting. 

“I’m not mad, baby, tell me what’s wrong.” His voice was soft and smooth. It was caring, endearing even. It wasn’t fair for him. 

“You’re going to hate me.”  

He squeezed you. “Stop.” He always hated negative talk.

“Nothing you’re going to say will make me hate you.”

“This time it will.” 

“Tell me.” He challenged you. 

Your crying settled, you were better now. You were able to form sentences. 

“I’m late.” You held your eyes shut, waiting for the explosion. 

“For what?” He ran a hand up and down your back, he was soothing you while you were about to drop a bomb on him. 

“No, I’m late.” You looked at him in the face. You had to be brave. 

Peter looked confused. 

“My period is late, Peter.” You spoke each word independently scared you would spew the words out so fast he would make you repeat them. 

He took a deep breath in. 

“Okay.” 

“A month late, Peter.” 

He nodded his head. 

“Okay.” 

He had to be strong right now, he might be slightly panicking on the inside but clearly you were the more upset one and it wouldn’t be good for both of you to be freaking out. 

“Do you think you’re pregn-” 

“Stop.” You cut him off. 

“Don’t say it.” 

He closed his mouth and tried to find his way around the question.

“Do you think you might be?” You both were not to say the P word. 

“I don’t know.” Your words broke, the tears were about to start again.

“Did you take a test?” 

You hated how adult Peter was right now, he was making you seem so immature and childish about this. 

“Are you mad at me?” You wondered if that was the reason behind the blank face he wore. 

“What? No. No, not at all. It takes two to make a b-” He tried to calm your fears but you stopped him again, you got louder this time. Not quite a yell but edging that way.

“Stop saying things like that!” You pushed away from him and stood up. 

“Do you even understand this? Do you know what this means? Do you get what I’m saying?” You were upset with yourself but Peter was here to take the heat so right now it was his problem. 

“Baby,” He tried.

“Don’t call me that right now.” Your tone was bitter. The word made you mad.

He sighed, “Okay, sweetheart. I-” He paused to find the right words but couldn’t. He felt defeated right now and he hasn’t felt like this ever. He was the fixer, he solved all your problems and was the one that made you feel better when you were in the dumps. 

But this was a problem he couldn’t solve.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” It was honest. He couldn’t make it better but he wasn’t trying to make it worse. 

“I don’t know!” You exploded on him. He didn’t take it personally, he knew you were in crisis mode. “Just,” You pulled at the roots of your hair, desperate for your boyfriend to do something, make this go away, stop the panic and fear and shame. 

“Just fix it!” You pleaded. 

He stood and held you to him. Tears wet his shirt, he felt his own clouding up his eyes so he shut them. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know if I can fix this one.” His voice made him sound defeated. You broke him. 

“You always fix it.” You reminded him. 

“I know.” He kissed your forehead. 

“Did you take a test?” He sounded more authoritative this time. 

“No.” 

“Okay. I can do that, I can get you one.” He felt a little happy he could do something for you. 

“Okay.” You pulled from him. 

“Okay?” He watched you nod at him. 

“Get the good one. The expensive one, I don’t trust the one dollar ones.” 

“Got it. What else?” He was putting his wallet in his back pocket, he would be going to a bodega not even a block down the street. 

“Nothing.” You couldn’t imagine anything making this more bearable at the moment. 

“Okay.” Peter nodded at you and looked you over, he hoped you would be okay the five minutes he would be gone. “I love you.” The words made you choke up. He still loved you, even now. 

You smiled, he knew you needed to hear that.

“I love you too.” You watched him step out his bedroom door. 

“Wait,” He turned to look at you, waiting for you to finish your thought. 

He watched you grin shyly, “Can you get me a chocolate milk too?”

“Anything for you ba-” He cleared his throat, “darling.”

You nodded and watched him leave. 

Peter returned in record timing pulling the chocolate milk from the bag, (the good expensive stuff too. Peter felt like you deserved the extra $2 splurge) and leaving the test hidden in the opaque plastic, you shouldn’t have to stare at it until you were ready to take it. 

You took the bottle from him and twisted off the cap with a crack of the seal. 

“Gonna have to crack open a cold one for this.” You cheers the empty space in front of you and down a quarter of it and pass it to Peter. He holds his hands out in a passing manner, “No, I’m trying to lay off the hard stuff.” You laughed and insisted he take it, “C’mon I think you deserve a shot after today.” 

He sighed and looked around, “Alright, just one okay? Don’t let my sponsor know about this.” 

You giggled while you watched him drink an equal amount before he handed it back and you replaced the cap. 

“We’re gonna need this for later.” You placed the bottle on his nightstand. 

You lent your head on his shoulder. Your voice is quiet, “We’re gonna be okay, right?” 

“Yeah. We’re going to be just fine.” You nodded against him. You chose to believe him.

You stood and pulled the test from the bag. He got you the nice one like you said, 2 tests inside. It was the digital “Pregnant” or “Not Pregnant” one. No squinting at lines, saying “is that a double line or a single?” 

You let out a heavy breath and looked at your boyfriend. How he is so calm right now is beyond you. You looked at the test again and the trip to the bathroom seemed long and lonely and you didn’t want to be alone. You gave him the sweet eyes that usually got you what you wanted. 

“Can you come with me?” 

He sat up like a spring, walking ahead of you. “Of course.”

You peed on the stick while Peter sat on the side of the tub and talked to you about something because you were pee shy and couldn’t do it in the silence of the room knowing Peter was right next to you.

Laying the test flat on the sink you asked Peter to set the timer for 5 minutes. You didn’t know how long 5 minutes could be until now. 

You sat next to him thigh to thigh on the tub slinking your hand between his. 

“Be honest. Are you freaking out just as much as I am?” You looked at him to see his reaction. 

He laughed, more like a chuckle. “Oh yeah.” 

“You’re better at hiding it than me.” You pushed the curls falling into his eyes away. 

“You didn’t need me to freak out, you needed me to support you. And I do.” He squeezed your hand in his.

You didn’t want to ask but this was the reality of the situation. 

“What happens if it’s positive?” You held your breath.

“I don’t know.” He wishes he could say more. 

“Neither do I.” You were in the same boat. 

If the ship was sinking you'd go down together. 

“I love you. I will always love you no matter what, positive or not I'm in your corner.” He looked at you and let himself be scared. 

“If it’s.. If I’m pregnant,” You almost choked on the word, it was the first time you said it.

“If I’m pregnant, I don’t want to keep it.” You refused to look at his face. This was the shame, the immediate thought crossed your mind the second you started to question it. 

“Okay.” He nodded. He agreed. He accepted. 

“You’re okay with that? Or are you just saying that because it’s what you think I want to hear?” 

“It’s your body, your choice.” He didn’t give his opinion. You noticed that. 

“No. It’s your baby too. You get a say in the matter.” You were not backing down.

He thought of his next words carefully. 

“We’re not bad people for not wanting a baby right now.” 

That was all you needed to hear from him. Conformation. He was in this with you. 

His timer went off. You both looked at eachother, your heart felt like it stopped. You both sat for a moment, you both knew that this was the last moment before your lives changed. Positive would mean a whole new conversation about what was next and negative would mean you both needed to take a step back and reevaluate how you’ve been doing things. 

You stood and shook your hands out. You blew out a breath. 

“I’m gonna look now.” You still haven’t moved. You didn’t want to see the result. 

You sat back down next to Peter. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” 

“Do you want me to look?” 

You nodded, “Please.” 

You watched him stand, walk to the sink and peer at the test. He turned and looked at you. You couldn’t read his face. You held your breath in anticipation. 

“Negative.” 

Both of you smiled at the same time. 

“Oh thank fucking God!” You cheered and fist pumped. 

“I thought my heart was going to fall out of my ass.” Peter breathed out. 

“I’m not pregnant! We’re not pregnant!” You danced around and high 10 Peter. 

He wrapped his arms around you for a hug, you both latched onto each other and held each other in silence. The moment needing no words. 

“I’m getting on birth control ASAP.” You talked into his collar. 

“I didn’t want to suggest it but I think that’s a very good idea.” He kissed your temple. 

You pulled away and looked into his eyes. They were light and warm, you realized how much he internalized his emotions and thoughts so you could freak out. 

“I love you. I love you more than you will ever know. Thank you for being here with me, I would’ve really lost it if you weren't here.” 

Peter raised his eyebrows, “Oh, so that was you keeping it together?” 

“Hey! I think I did pretty good.” You swat at his chest.

“If pretty good is hanging on by a thread, then you did an awesome job.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Hey, I love you too, okay? More than you will ever know. I’m here for you no matter what.” He lent down to give you the first kiss since you arrived. 

When you pulled away you looked at him and said, “You know what would be really good right now?” 

“Hmm?” Peter looked at you like a love sick dope fiend. 

“Celebratory chocolate milk.”

[pogueswrld]

Hello! Can you do a smut as a femme afab with ASM Peter Parker? If you feel comfortable can you please do some bondage with his webbing? Thanks a ton!

BONDAGE WITH HIS WEBBING ARE YOU INSANE ANON ilysm omfggggg

*•.¸♡ stuck in your spider webs ♡¸.•*

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

warnings: smut obvi 🦢, porn without plot lol, both reader and peter are switches, web bondage, edging, praise, mommy kink, multiple orgasms, oral (both fem & m receiving)

note: I wrote two pieces- peter tied up and reader tied up for whichever one you like most, hope y'all enjoy this!!

tying up peter was a simple task. you were surprised at his enthusiasm when you brought up the subject; his head nodding, a dazed look in his eye- already picturing the sight, mouth drooling and cock twitching in his pants.

he complied with every request and demand that tumbled off your lips, slowly stripping off his clothes and laying still on your shared bed, panting in anticipation for your next move. in your hands was his web shooter, inspecting it closely before pulling it onto your wrist.

you raise a single brow, "hold your hands above your head." peter did so without complaining, his eyes zeroing in on his web shooter on your wrist. you did his famous motion and a single string of web aiming at his joined hands stuck them to the headboard of your bed and the wall behind it. peter spared it a single glance, tried to free his hands, and whined when he realized he could not do so.

it didn't take long for you to expose his erection and even less time to have him moaning and begging for your touch, bucking up his hips into your hands as they wrap around him, tip red and dripping precum down his throbbing length.

you talk him through it, cooing at his whines and cries for the taste of sweet release as you casually praise him.

"That's it, such a good boy. look at you pretty baby, making a mess on our bed. you like this, don't you? working so hard to please mommy."

and he trembles. absolutely breaking apart at your words, unable to keep quiet as his entire body shakes at the force of the orgasm you pulled out of him. and it wasn't the last, as you push him to the brink and drag him back again, altering between your hands and your mouth as he whines and jerks beneath you, the webs holding him back from touching you or forcing his cock down your throat like he's done so many times before. he was completely at your mercy and he enjoyed every second of it.

getting to tie you up wasn't as easy of a task for peter, but from how enjoyable it was for him you figured you'd give it a chance. and boy were you so thankful you did.

he coaxed you into bed, kissing up and down your neck, softly nibbling at your skin while simultaneously kneading at the skin of your hips and sides. he was so smooth with it, his hands sneaking up to your arms, intertwining his fingers with your own before bringing them above your head. he pulled back momentarily, smirking at you stupidly before sending a web to your joined hands. your gasp of surprise didn't deter him as he pulled off his shirt and continued down the path he'd set for himself.

he'd start by eating you out; a pillow placed underneath your ass with both of your legs resting on his shoulders, one of his arms lazily draped across your hips, his thumb casually caressing your skin there while his other hand is buried deep in your cunt, three fingers curling and uncurling themselves, working your inner muscles up to a mind-numbing high while his tongue lapped up at your juices and pressed random figures on your puffy clit.

he knew all your sensitive spots by heart, and he made a point to pay extra attention to them, forcing loud moans and gasps out of your bruised lips. his eyes blink up at you from between your thighs, blown pupils capturing every expression on your face to memory. those same beautiful brown eyes roll to the back of his head as you grab a handful of his hair by the root and tug as an orgasm washes over you, he moans into your pussy, and the vibrations make you let out a silent scream followed by whimpers of his name.

he wishes he had your self-control and your ability to not ride him when he was tied up, but he doesn't which is how he ended up with his cock buried deep inside of you, his eyes blinking down at you. he wishes he had a camera on him to take a picture of you; tied up, hickeys and bruises mark your skin, a trail leading down to where your body swallows him whole, your tits bouncing with each thrust.

"fuck- baby~" he whines, losing his rhythm temporarily, his hands going from groping at the skin of your ass and hips to your boobs and face, he was working overtime to pleasure you first and foremost. "look at how good you're taking me- jesus, you're gonna kill me~"

[blooming-violets]

My headcanon for frat peter is that he joined one after gwen dies to distract himself and as a bandaid fucks everything that movies and gains a reputation oc / reader is his best friend very similar to dancing on my own ik but anyway she tries supporting him but peter is really unhealthy and she leaves for a while how do you think peter would feel about the hole she leaves behind cause she used to basically do all his emotional heavy lifting on hard days

He acts like he's fine. He's learned not to show his emotions especially around the guys. They were never big fans of her, anyway. It takes him about two weeks to finally notice that she's gone. It happens the day he's set to touch up his blonde roots. Usually he heads on over to her dorm, sneaking into the women's bathroom, while she does his hair for him. During those times are when he typically feels more free to speak his mind. They shared a lot of heart to hearts over those moments of the two of them, giggling alone in the bathroom, while he enjoys the feeling of her fussing over his hair. He feels the weight of the world leaving his shoulders for a short time whenever she's around.

This time, though, she doesn't come when he calls.

All his texts go unanswered. At first, he's worried she's hurt. He immediately thinks the worst. It's in his nature to assume that the people he loves will end up dead. Taken too early. It's not until he sees her walking around campus he's able to feel a sense of relief.

He jogs up to her, big, cocky grin on his face, and falls in step next to her. He expects her to open up like usual. Expects her to play along with his teasing. When he only receives a cold shoulder and the silent treatment, he reacts with anger.

Peter's been so angry lately. He's been struggling to feel many emotions but anger is one that always seems to make it through his closed off walls. They say that anger is a massive part of the grieving process but it's one he hasn't been able to shake.

They get into a huge, blow out fight in middle of campus over how he treats her now vs before and how he let's his friends treat her like shit. She's sick of his behavior and only using her whenever he needs something. It's never the other way around. Peter no longer shows up for her like she does for him. She can't take their one sided friendship anymore. This isn't the Peter she grew up loving.

It draws a crowd. People are watching them like they're today's entertainment. It ends with her crying, running back to her dorm, and Peter cursing out the crowds and stalking back to his frat house.

He mourns her loss in his life like he mourned for Gwen.

Denial.

It was her fault. She was being stupid. He had done nothing wrong. So what if his frat brothers teased her from to time. It was her fault she couldn't take a joke. He turned a blind eye to their behavior. He let them get inside his head. He didn't need her. He had lines of women waiting to throw themselves at his feet. What was the loss of one, stupid, annoying girl he knew as a kid? According to his brothers, she refused to put out, anyway. It was no loss to him. He didn't need her.

He buried his hurt by sleeping around more often than usual. A new woman every night. Sometimes two in the same day. He even slept with her best girl friend just to extra piss her off and get back at her.

He wanted her to hurt as much as him.

Anger

He was already the king of anger. He felt its power invade his every pore. It lived deep in his bones and consumed his every waking thought. He was getting into multiple fist fights every week. Not even as Spider-Man, just as Peter Parker.

He fought his frat brothers, he fought guys at the bar, he fought dudes on the street, he even fought his own reflection in the mirror. That one left him covered in blood and surrounded by shattered glass. He needed stitches to close up the wound. He couldn't stand the sight of his own face. He despised the man who stared back at him.

He didn't know this person. He didn't know Peter anymore.

Maybe she was right. Maybe had lost himself.

Bargaining

If he could just see her again...

If he could just see her one time. Hear her voice. That's all he wanted. He could watch her anytime he felt like it. He could overhear her talking to friends whenever he spied on her. He was Spider-Man. He was the master of stealth and shadows. But that wasn't enough. He wanted her voice to be directed at him. He didn't care what she said to him as long as she was talking. All he wanted was a fraction of her attention.

He would trade it all to get her back in his life. Just one conversation. That's he wanted. One, little talk just like old times.

She refused.

He couldn't blame her. He was a destroyer of lives. Anyone he touched crumbled around him. Whether they were killed in a plane crash, shot in the street, fell from a building, or were shoved away...they all left him in the end.

It was his fault. It was always his fault.

Depression

When he lost everything, he used to turn to sex. Now the thought of touching a woman who wasn't her only made him sick to his stomach. Alcohol was too risky. It fucked too much with his emotions. Made him reckless.

Pot was the cure.

It calmed him. Made him forget for a while. Allowed him to just relax and zone out.

He stopped going to his classes. Stopping talking to his brothers. Stopped answering his texts. It was just him, a strong joint, and the quiet of cave of his bedroom. In here, he could wallow in peace.

Peter Parker was not someone who could be trusted in the real world. He deserved to be locked up like an animal. No one needed him. He was better off alone.

This was where he would stay. In the dark. Where he belonged.

Acceptance

The state of his hair told him how much time had passed. It was back to brown. Greasy and unkempt. Shaggier than he typically liked it but he didn't care enough to get it fixed. The only person he ever wanted to touch his hair again was her.

And she deserved an apology.

He had been reading about grief online. There were five stages, so the internet says. There is no specific time period for each and they can jump between the stages whenever they feel like. He liked to hang out in the anger stage more often than the others. It was where he felt most at home. At least he understood anger. Anger made sense to him. Smoking helped quell the raging beast. That was a vice he didn't want to give up. Not yet. He wasn't ready for that step.

The world was an angry place and he fit right in.

But he was learning where to put that anger. It didn't belong on her. That was misguided. She had done nothing wrong. All she had ever done was love him. Anger was okay as long as it was placed in the right direction. He knew that now. Spider-Man could use anger to his advantage. Bad guys deserved anger. His frat brothers deserved his wrath for how they treated others. He, himself, deserved the anger. But not her.

And he needed to make amends. Even if she didn't fully forgive him, he needed to try, because she deserved to hear it, and he deserved to say it.

All it took was one text. After months of no contact. One text and she replied.

Coffee. 9am. Just the two of them.

One, little talk...just like old times.

I LOVED THIS!

It is very Dancing On My Own coded. I think what some people don't fully grasp in that story is that Peter was severely grieving through the later half of it. Gwen died because he couldn't catch her in time. He lost the love of his life because he wasn't good enough at the ONE thing he was supposed to be good at. He fully blames himself for her death. Do people not realize how seriously fucked that would make someone?? I think that's why I like to write dark!Peter so much. Because TASM Peter would be dark after that. He would not be normal. He would not be able to go back to being friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. It would ruin him. We saw that in NWH. It's still eating him alive like a decade later. The college days of Dancing On My Own took place a year after Gwen's death. The boy is fucked up.

Grief makes you do stupid things. Anger and reckless behavior is part of grief. Obvious that doesn't mean that it's okay but to completely write someone off as a monster undeserving of love just because they're hurting doesn't sit right with me. Not that you did that, I'm just going off the comments and complaints I've gotten on the fic that always low key piss me off.

And maybe I'm just not the greatest writer so that didn't come off as well as I wanted it to in DOMO but I tried my best haha. Maybe I shouldn't have ended it where I did and allowed them to grow a bit more after but I really thought that kind of stuff would just be assumed by the reader because it made sense in my head that that's how grief and healing and forgiveness go. But no one lives in my head but me so that's my fault for not executing my intentions properly!

I lovelovelove exploring grief and the different places it can take a person. Grief/depression/anger/angst are my favorite topics. Always have been since I was young. Like how Peter in this story feels most comfortable hanging out in his anger, I feel most happy in my angst and darkness. Sad people sometimes do bad things. Hurting people sometimes hurt other people. Even people they love very much. Does that make them completely incapable of change? Does that make them forever unlovable or not worthy of forgiveness? Sometimes people think too much in black and white and forget that the world is full of all sorts of grays.

Not that this was even about DOMO and I'm completely going on a tangent I know I'm so sorry haha but it's close enough to domo because it's dealing with Peter's grief and hurting of a close friend.

Here's some of my favorite pages from my favorite children's book (Michael Rosen's Sad Book) that talks about grief and the loss of someone you loved very much that's meant to teach children how to better understand their sadness and hurt and that even if you do bad things sometimes it doesn't mean that you are a bad person who doesn't deserve love and forgiveness:

ANYWAY

I just wanted to say that I love this and I love when people come to me with headcanons. That's what fandoms are supposed to be about. We're all supposed to be pestering each other 24/7 with our ideas and creating stories together and collaborating and building shit that we all love. Always send me your ideas. No matter how unhinged you might think they are bc I'm sure I've got equally as crazy ideas to play along with you!

[withahappyrefrain]

3 is the Magic Number

For @wicked-blathers' Kink or Treat event! Yes I'm several days late, shhh, it's fine..

Summary: you and Peter decide it's time to start trying to expand your family

Warnings: strong breeding kink, soft dom Peter, overstimulation, creampies, daddy kink, choking, did I mention breeding kink? Also Peter having baby fever.

It all started when your cousin brought over her infant at Thanksgiving. 

You couldn't help but coo over the baby, with his bright eyes and gummy smile and little fingers. When your cousin asked if you wanted to hold him, you immediately said yes and brought him over to Peter.

"Look at him! Isn't he cute?" You gushed to your husband. 

"Yeah, he's quite the charmer already," Peter commented. But his eyes weren't on the baby, they were on you. 

"You look like a natural holding him," He whispered as his arm wrapped around your waist. 

You didn't think much of his comment at the time. 

That night, your legs shook as he held them over his shoulders, thrusting into you deeply. 

"Gonna fill ya up," Peter whispered, his eyes never leaving the sight of his cock entering you, "Ya want that?" 

"P-please," you choked out. At the time, you were so focused on how he was hitting that sweet spot that you didn't realize this was the first time he talked about coming inside you. 

In hindsight, you couldn't blame yourself for not picking up on the signs. It was difficult when his calloused fingers were rubbing tight circles on your clit. 

You did notice how the following month, when your family had gathered together, Peter couldn't take his eyes off of your cousin's baby. 

"I think Peter wants one too," Your cousin motioned over to the table. 

You looked to find Peter was kneeling down at the table, causing him to be at eye level with Reid, who was currently lying down in the baby lounger. 

It was a sweet sight, Peter offering one of his fingers to Reid, his honeyed eyes never leaving the baby. A soft smile stretched onto his face as Reid attempted to wrap his tiny fingers around Peter's. 

Other relatives mentioned their theories on Peter's desire to have children to you that night. You knew he wanted kids, it was one of the first things you two discussed on your first date. 

You had been married for several years, taking the steps towards having children: paying off student debt, finding stable jobs, buying a townhouse. 

It came to a head when you received a reminder from your OBGYN one night.

"Fuck, I gotta make an appointment," you said out loud. 

Peter looked up from the exams he had been grading, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, "For what?" 

"My IUD. It's been five years and I need to get it replaced," you explained as you pulled the app up on your phone to look at the availability of appointments.

"Or," Peter started, his fingers toying with the pen,  "you could…..not replace it." 

You nearly dropped your phone at the comment, "What do you mean not replace it?" 

The tips of Peter's ears were turning red, which was funny considering he was the one who brought it up. 

"You could just… have it taken out," He mumbled, his long fingers fidgeting with the pen he had been using to grade. 

"If you want to start trying for a kid, I need you to actually say it instead of beating around the-" 

"I want to start trying for a kid. I've wanted to start trying since I saw you holding Reid at Thanksgiving." 

There was silence after his statement as you processed your husband's words. 

"I….I've wanted to start trying since I saw you sitting with Reid when we went to my family's for Hanukkah." You admitted. 

His eyes widened. Peter knew you wanted kids just like him, but he honestly wasn't sure what to expect when he brought this up. He had prepared himself for "we're not ready" or "not yet". 

"So….we should start trying for a kid," He stated. 

You couldn't help but giggle, "Well, first I have to get my IUD taken out." 

Peter joined you in laughter, "That is kinda important." 

You wiggled your eyebrows, "Kinda?" 

"Yeah, just a little." Your giggles erupted into full on laughter, filling the bedroom. 

"So when can you get it taken out?" Peter asked as his laughter subsided. 

"Eager, are we?" You grinned. 

"I've been waiting for this since our first date, forgive me," Peter deadpanned. Despite his tone, the comment still brought heat to your face. 

Trying to play it off, you looked at your phone, pulling up the app your doctor's office used. 

"The soonest appointment is next Wednesday at two-thirty."

"Take it." 

—---------------------------------------

To say Peter was excited was an understatement. 

"Apparently taking prenatal vitamins before you get pregnant helps," He said as he held up the bottle. 

"Who told you that?" You asked before taking a bite of your apple. 

"May." 

You nearly choked on the piece of fruit, "Did you tell your aunt we're trying to conceive?!" 

Peter shrugged, "She outwardly expressed that she wanted to be a grandparent when I turned eighteen. I figured if anyone has any tips, it's the person who works in a hospital." 

"Who else have you told? The latest villain you've been fighting?" 

"We should also stop drinking now. And stop eating fish high in Mercury. Those things lower your fertility," Peter said as he read over the article on his laptop, ignoring your comment. 

"You do realize that this won't happen overnight, right?" You were excited but didn't want Peter to be disappointed. 

"I know. But you can also get pregnant as soon as you get your IUD taken out. So we might as well increase our chances." 

"I also can experience cramps and slight bleeding when I get my IUD taken out. So it's unlikely we'll be able to start on Wednesday," you explained. 

"Oh," Peter said, clearly having not thought about that, "Well, that gives us more time for the vitamins to take effect and to get all the alcohol and mercury out of ya."

—------------ 

The removal was far less painful than the insertion. 

As you entered your apartment, a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, pulling you into a broad chest. 

"How ya feeling?" Peter murmured into your hair. 

"Sore. I'm also bleeding." 

Peter squeezed the flesh of your waist, "I'm sorry bug." 

"I feel bad for you. You seemed pretty excited to start," you giggled. You couldn't help it; the slight pout on Peter's face was adorable. 

Peter shrugged, "I've waited six years. What's a few more days gonna do?" 

You couldn't help but lean your head into his chest, his arms wrapped around you. His lips pressed against your forehead, his beard creating a soft friction. 

"I love you bug," he whispered against your skin. 

"I love you too Tiger," you looked up, your chin against his chest, "you've really waited six years for this?" 

Peter's cheeks became flushed, "Yeah." 

"Pete, we've been together for six years." 

Now the tips of Peter's ears were bright red, "I….I figured you were the one early." 

A giggle escapes your lips, the one that always brought a smile to Peter's face because it was sweeter than any love song he had ever heard, "How early Pete?" 

"First date," you heard your husband mumble. 

—----------------------

Usually on Saturdays, you and Peter were up and running errands. 

But today, you two opted to sleep in. It was nice to wake up and find that he had wrapped his arms around you, pulling you towards him. 

"Hi bug," He whispered into your shoulder, his voice deeper than usual. 

"Hi Tiger," you whispered back, your fingers brushing the hair away from his forehead. 

"How ya feeling?" His nose brushed against yours. You couldn't help but admire the way his eye crinkles had become more pronounced over the years, along with the smattering of gray hairs throughout his beard and hair. 

"Pretty good. Think my body has adjusted to not having something inserted up my vagina." 

Peter grimaced, "When you say it like that, it sounds like some form of torture." 

"Can't most of the things those with a uterus have to do, be classified as torture? Waxing, shaving our arms and legs, growing a human?" 

"Growing a human isn't torture if you want it," He countered. 

"I know, but it's not gonna be easy." 

"I know," he pressed his lips against your temple, "and I'll be there for you every step of the way." 

"Even if it's two in the morning and I'm craving pretzels and mint chocolate chip ice cream?" You asked. 

"The bodega is just a few swings away," Peter assured you, bringing a smile to your face. 

"What about when I cry over otters due to my emotions being heightened?" You asked, a light tease lacing your voice. 

Peter rolled his eyes, "you already cry at otters." 

"They're so cute! And they hold hands so-" 

"So they don't get separated when they sleep," Peter finished for you. 

"Have I cried over Otters before?" You asked, confused. 

Peter chuckled as he stroked your hair, "when you're quite drunk. So I'd say I'm pretty prepared." 

You rested your head on his chest, breathing to the rhyming of his heartbeat. 

"I've also helped deliver several babies in the back of a taxi," Peter added, "So I have you covered there." 

You shuddered at the thought, "I'd rather you swing me through the city than deliver our kid in the back of a taxi." 

"Perhaps we should get you pregnant first before we decide on delivery options," Peter suggested, wiggling his eyebrows. 

"I'm honestly surprised you didn't jump on me when I said I felt fine," you admitted. 

"I wanted to be polite and say good morning first," Peter said, sheepishly. It was hard not to jump on you, but you were his wife after all, not some animal. 

Your laughter was silenced by Peter's lips, his body now pressing against yours. 

A whimper escaped your lips as you felt Peter's hips roll against yours. His large hands snaked underneath your Tshirt, squeezing your breasts. 

Your hands tangled themselves into Peter's hair, tugging on the messy locks in an attempt to pull his lips away from your neck and back up to yours. 

The removal of your clothes wasn't sexy or smooth. At one point, Peter had to get off you to pull down his sweats, huffing as he did so. 

"Wanna be close to you," He mumbled as he got back on top of you. You continued to chuckle. 

"I'd say you're about to be very close to me," Your chuckle turned into a gasp as Peter pulled down your shorts, your core now exposed to the cool air. 

Peter's body shimmied down the bed, placing his head in between your thighs. 

"That's n-not- oh- h-how babies a-are made," you gasped as his tongue began lapping up and down your slit. 

"Gotta warm ya up," was all he explained before attaching his lips to your clit. In hindsight, it wasn't a bad idea. It had been close to a week since you two were last intimate. 

The gaze of his honey-clouded eyes burned into your bare skin. He watched your face as his fingers filled you. You were beautiful as always, with your slightly parted lips and knuckles turning white from gripping the sheets. 

But today was different. It wasn't that he didn't desire you all the time, wished to be consumed by you and make a home amists tangled bedsheets. 

He just didn't think it was possible to desire you any more than he already did. 

But then he saw you look at that baby, your big eyes filled with love, adoration, and care. And then you agreed to have his child. 

He wanted to bury himself in you. 

You were teetering over the edge when he pulled himself up and away from your thighs. A whine left your lips, your hips desperately bucking up as a desperate attempt to chase some friction, some type of relief. 

"I-I know but, but if I keep going…." He shook his head as he chuckled at himself. Ironic that he was now slightly embarrassed at how close he already was to coming, considering he originally didn't want to go on a blind date with you. 

Funny how things change. 

Moans trailed past your lips, down your chin at the sensation of his hard cock slipping through your wetness. Fuck, you could hear yourself, hear how wet you were. The tip of his cock repeatedly brushed over your throbbing clit. 

"I won't last much longer," Peter finished his sentence as he pushed himself into you. 

He didn't mind the sensation of your fingernails digging into his broad shoulders. Your touch always grounded him. It was what he craved at the end of a long day, at the end of a strenuous night of patrolling. 

Peter entered you slowly, bottoming out. For several moments, the bedroom was silent, apart from your panting. Your eyes couldn't leave his. It felt like your first time again, how neither one of you seemed to want to make the first move. But not out of hesitation, not out of fear of making a mistake. 

You wanted to savor the moment. But you also wanted him to consume you. 

So, you reached a hand up to push several strands of hair out his eyes, allowing him to see your reassuring nod. He pulled almost all the way out before thrusting back in. 

The bedroom began to be filled with the sounds of his skin slapping against yours, your moans blending with his heavy panting. 

Fuck you were gorgeous with your head thrown back against the pillow, back arched. It wasn't the first time he had seen such a sight. He had even taken a picture of it before, the polaroid tucked away in his wallet. 

It was the fact that Peter was going to come inside you, without anything to prevent himself from filling you up. Chances were low you'd get pregnant right away, unless there was something new he was about to learn regarding the effects of a radioactive spider bite. 

But it could happen, the fact that you two would continue trying to make it happen, drove him absolutely wild. 

"Gonna fill you up real good, 'kay?" You nodded, the corners of your vision beginning to blur from the intense pleasure. 

"Yeah? Is that what you want? To be full of me?" 

The edge was getting closer and closer, making it difficult for you to form a coherent response. 

"You wanna what?" Peter asked as one of his hands snaked down to where your two bodies met. 

"W-wanna….I wanna…." His thrusts were getting harder, more purposeful. The circles he was tracing on your clit added to the pleasure he was submerging you in. 

"Use your words pretty girl," He cooed, "C'mon, you can do it." 

"W-wanna make you a Daddy." It was now Peter's turn to widen his eyes at your words. For a brief moment, his hips stilled. 

Then they picked back up again, this time with a determined force. 

"Come. Now. Come right fucking now," He grunted. 

Peter was a lot of things, and sometimes that was dominant in the bedroom. But he had never ordered you like that. 

"You heard me. Want you to make a mess on my cock before I fill ya up." He lifted up your legs, pinning them to his hips. The new position allowed him to fuck you even deeper, pushing you over. 

You were incoherent as you came, only whines mixed with slurred chants of his name leaving your mouth. Peter followed quickly behind you; it had been tortured not having sex with you or masturbating for nearly a week, but he knew it would be worth it. 

When your eyes opened, your knees were now pressed to your chest, Peter thrusting into you. 

Fuck, had he not come yet? No, that was impossible. He had. You remember the feeling of warmth spreading through you, his hips stuttering, the raspy goans he let out- the telltale sign of him coming. 

He had come, and by how full you felt, quite a bit. 

Fuck.

Peter felt your eyes boring into his skin. Part of him felt guilty for not feeling guilty about continuing to fuck you. 

But you just felt so good coming around his cock. And even though it was far from the first time he came inside you, it felt so much better now, now that he knew you wanted him to fill you up, you wanted his cum to take. 

Peter needed it to take, it was an overwhelming desire he now had. His mind was clouded with thoughts of you, stomach round and your tits full. Thoughts of you holding a baby that had his eyes and your hair. Thoughts of a little one running around the place. 

Your lips were engulfed in a sloppy kiss, jolts of pleasure lighting up your body with each thrust. His body pressed your hips further into the pillow he had placed underneath. 

"Gotta make sure n-nothin comes out," he explained in between kisses, his voice breathless. 

All you could do was nod and cling onto him. You were entirely at his mercy and it thrilled you. Maybe in hindsight you should be concerned about how your husband seemed downright feral for you. Maybe you should reflect upon how much you enjoyed it in your next therapy session. 

Lots of maybes. But for once, you weren't concerned about them. They weren't creeping into your brain, slowly but surely taking over your thoughts until it consumed you. 

You were in a good place. You had a steady job that you enjoyed at least half of the time, depending on the day. You had a roof over your head. You were with someone who loved you, all parts of you. 

This was what safety felt like. This was security. 

"I love you," you whispered so softly, you were surprised he was able to hear it. 

"Love you too," He pressed another kiss ro your lips, "You're gonna look s'pretty, full of me." 

That mouth of his was going to be the death of you. 

"Y'gonna be such a good mama too," the sweet words were a stark contrast to his sharp thrusts. 

You wanted to praise him, to give him words of encouragement. But all you could was just nod your head as he continued to thrust into you. The only sounds that came out of you were pathetic whines as he continued thrusting into you. 

Peter loved how your whines increased in pitch as his cock brushed against that sweet spot over and over. A near scowl formed as he saw you bury your head into the pillow. 

"What's the matter? Don't want the neighbors to hear how badly you want me to put a baby in ya?" 

You clenched at his words, eliciting a groan from Peter that was so guttural, your legs began to shake. 

Every little reaction your body had to him only pushed Peter forward. The coil in your stomach was tightening. Peter knew you were close, your teeth always dug into your bottom lip, your hands desperately clinging onto any part of him you could reach. 

"C'mon bug, n-need ya to make a mess on Daddy's cock," He said before sinking his teeth into your neck. 

His words, combined with the sudden pain of his teeth digging into your, drove you over that sweet edge. He was the ocean, pushing and pulling you under. Just when you thought you had reached the surface, you were pulled back in by his long fingers stroking your clit, prolonging your pleasure.

Peter only lasted a few more thrusts before he came inside you again. You felt spent, unable to move. 

He acted quickly, pulling out of you and quickly replacing his cock with his fingers. 

Peter's name came out as a strangled moan when you felt his fingers curl inside you. 

"I know, it's sensitive," He moved his body down until he was in-between your legs, "But I'd hate for any drop to go to waste." 

Your hands latched onto his hair as he closed his mouth around your clit. It was too much: your previous orgasms, Peter's current goal of keeping you full of him. 

Overstimulation was kicking in, causing you to throw your head back. Your thighs wrapped around his head, your body going against what your brain was saying. 

He fucked his cum back into you with his fingers, his tongue lapping at your swollen bundle of nerves. Peter grinded his hips into the mattress. He couldn't help it, you sounded so pretty when you chanted his name like that. 

"Just one more, give me one more, 'kay Bug?" He said in response to your desperate whines. 

Your next orgasm was intense, your walls squeezing Peter's fingers so tightly that you were surprised they were still able to move. 

Your head rested against the pillow, the room filled with nothing but heavy panting. The bed creaked as Peter's body moved. 

Suddenly, your back was no longer touching the mattress. Instead, you felt the cool air touching your skin, your head spinning from the sudden movement. 

Peter's hands gripped your hips, holding you above his. A gasp escaped your lips upon feeling his cock slip through your folds. 

The ache you felt as his cock entered you was familiar and warm. When you looked up, it was the first time you noticed that his eyes had darkened, almost black. 

He looked hungry. 

"I got ya, just hold onto me." Your hands gripped his broad shoulders as he thrusted into you. 

Pleasure quickly overtook the pain. Peter was memorizing with his head thrown back, kiss swollen lips parted. His hands gripped your hips, driving you down on his cock. 

God, you could stare at him for hours. 

"H-how do y-you still have anything left?" You asked, breathless. 

Peter let out a low chuckle, "Didn't jack off for a week. Been savin' up for ya." 

Fuck. He had been planning this, planning to fuck you until you were reduced to nothing but broken whines and grabby hands. 

And his plan was working. 

You slouched over, your head hovering above his broad chest. The room felt hazy. It took everything in you to focus on Peter's chest, the smattering of hairs, freckles, and moles. His skin grounded you, having physical proof that he was safe and here with you, that he wasn't still out on patrol and you were just imagining scenarios to calm yourself. 

You rocked your hips forward, grinding against his. The movement earned a lewd groan from your husband, one of his hands trailing up from your hips to clutch at your chest. 

Peter was trying to hold out, was trying to be respectful and a considerate husband. But when your lips attached themselves to his neck, your teeth sinking into his flesh, he knew he couldn't hold out much longer.

He bent his knees, allowing him to thrust into you while his other hand snaked up to your throat. 

"Touch yourself," he groaned, looking up at you like you were the eighth wonder of the world. Like he was looking up at a piece of artwork in The Louvre, and not you. 

But that was one of Peter's habits that you fell in love with. He made you feel special, made you feel worthy enough. Made all the self doubt you held wash away in moments like these. 

So you listened to him, a hand reaching down to where your two bodies met. 

The pleasure ebbed and flowed into and out of sensitivity. Your walls clenched around his cock, pushing him closer. 

Peter tried, he really did. But you felt so divine, so transcendent, he couldn't help it. He threw his head back as he came, slamming your hips down against his as he emptied inside of you. 

The sensation of feeling him come inside, combined with how full you felt, pushed you over. You slumped forward, your head resting on his chest. 

Peter's hands remained on your hips, pinning them to his. 

"Just stay there baby. Soak me up." You nodded your head weakly at his words. It wasn't like you could move, given the grip he had on your body. 

The two of you laid there in bed, your hearts racing. Once he realized you wouldn't move (you were far too spent), Peter's hands trailed up to your back, drawing comforting circles. 

After a while, he wrapped his arms around you and gently switched positions, your back now against the mattress. You hissed as he pulled out. 

"B-break," you mumbled. 

"I got ya," He whispered in between pressing feather-like kisses across your forehead and temple.

"You think it took?" Peter asked after a few moments of silence. 

You couldn't help but giggle, "Can't your Spidey sense tell?" 

Peter moved down, pressing his ear against your stomach as if it were a shell from the ocean. 

"Can't hear anything, guess we gotta try again," he smirked. 

"You seem really broken up about it," you deadpanned. Peter's face broke out onto a grin. 

"Darn," His voice was dripping with sarcasm and he even snapped his fingers for added effect. 

"What happened to wanting it to take the first time?" 

Peter shrugged, "I mean, I still want to put a baby in you sooner rather than later, but…figured it would be fun to try for a little bit." 

Your fingers ran through Peter's hair, trailing down to his bearded cheek, "Peter Benjamin Parker, you're insatiable." 

Peter's lips formed a mischievous smirk before they began nipping at your neck, making its way up to your jawline. 

"Maybe you can help me?" He asked, his breath hot on your ear. 

"I need a break, I don't have a super short recovery time due to a radioactive spider bite." You looked into his eyes, hoping your pout would be intimidating, or show your annoyance. 

Instead, Peter laughed at your adorable expression. His eyes looked over your features as his fingers brushed against your cheek. 

"I hope they get your nose," He said before placing a kiss to it. The comment brought warmth to your face and body. 

"I hope they get your hair. And eyes." 

Peter shook his head, "You have way better eyes."

"You have kind eyes. I want our kids to be kind," you admitted, your fingers gently threading through his hair. 

"They will be," Peter pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, "Because you're their Mom, the kindest person I know." 

"They also have you as their dad." 

Peter didn't respond, focusing on tracing your features with his long fingers. 

"I still want them to have your eyes," He admitted, a sheepish smile overtaking his face.

You rolled your eyes, "Can you use your Spidey sense to tell them that?" 

Peter laughed, nuzzling his nose against yours, "Guess I'll have to wait until they can hear noises and recognize voices." 

And he did. When you showed him the positive pregnancy test six months later, he talked to your growing bump every night. Sometimes he told stories, sometimes he whispered dreams and hopes. But always, he managed to make a reference about how your child needed to ensure that they had your eyes. 

In true Parker fashion, Benjamin Richard Parker was born with honey-casted eyes, just like his father.