#andrew spiderman

[sincericida]

Andrew Garfield on set of "The Amazing Spider-Man" (2011)

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

PREACHERS DAUGHTER- P.B PARKER

Pairing: Best Friend! Peter x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: you and peter were complete opposites, you the goodie two shoes preachers daughter, him the bad boy next door. yet fate has pulled the two of you together, and you can’t help but feel a certain lust for him.

Warnings: ORAL (fem), teasing, kissing, marking, pet names, best friends falling in luvvv, swearing, weed involved, booze mentioned, praise kink, masturabtion mentioned, lotsss of dirty talk, peter blowing smoke into reader mouth

based of the album- preachers daughter, by ethel cain

It was mesmerizing- the way his fingers moved. 

You felt as if you were under a trance, the watch on the chain swinging back in forth in front of your eyes, hypnotizing you. 

His rings, silver and shining in the pale moonlight the clock hands, the veins that ran up his wrists acted as the numbers that blurred together after some time. 

Each component drew you in as his fingers strummed each string, moving up and down the fingerboard to play each chord, a sweet melody emerging from the instrument. 

Your mind was far, far off from the homework you swore to yourself you would be doing tonight, despite having your best friend over. You knew you couldn't focus on anything but him, yet you let him slip through your window, with the cracked and peeling paint you refused to paint over- because you and Peter were the reason for its damage. 

You refused to change anything he had touched or wrecked, whether that be the broken dresser handle that was hanging on for dear life, or the jumble of photos the two of you had pasted on your walls while drunk out of your minds.

 They looked awful, all crooked and cluttered to fuck, but you didn’t touch them. 

Refused to. If Peter placed them there, that's where they stayed. 

You looked up at them now, gaze focusing on the smiling faces that stared back at you, that watched over your every move- in a comforting sense. Their presence lingered, as you peered back over to Peter, following the sound of strum from the strings, the sound coming to a screeching halt as he suddenly fished for something in his ripped jean pocket. 

He was so beautiful when he was concentrated. 

The subtlety bite of his lip, pearly whites tugging on the flesh with a sense of urgency as his jaw would clench. The way his messy, slightly ruffled russet hair would fall in front of his eyes, rings glimmering as he slid his hand through the locks to push it back into place. 

You wanted to run your fingers through his hair, wanted to tug on them to make him hiss in pleasure, the way he did the one night he had decided to use your thighs as a pillow. Peter's reaction was tenuous, a slight growl escaping from the cage of his clenched teeth.

 You noticed, though. You always noticed, when it came to him. 

“Bunny? You want one?” he asked softly, pre-rolled in blunt twirling between his large fingers, making you stare in awe. 

“Bun?” 

Oh shit, you were staring. 

“N-no Pete it’s okay. I’m good for now.” you smiled, a heat rising to your cheeks as you forced yourself to stare back down at your tattered notebook filled with scribbles and numbers you had no clue what to do with.

 It was better than looking at his fingers and getting caught again. 

Anything was. 

“Alright pretty but you let me know if you want one okay? Your asshole of a father won't find out, if that's what you're worried about.” he chuckled softly, throwing you a wink as he toyed with the drug, a cat with its dinner.

 Of course that's what you were worried about. You were the minister's daughter, a holy saint if there ever was one. The good girl, your father's little angel. 

We have a reputation to uphold Y/L/N. Don't mess it up, or there'll be consequences. Big ones. 

You had followed his words as he did with passages in that dog-eared bible of his, the rosemary beads sprawled out as a bookmark for his pages. 

So, how in the world did Peter Parker- the boy wrapped in sin your father warned you about, end up as your best friend, the man you trusted with your life? You didn't know, but you were thankful for it. 

It made you laugh every time Peter offered you a smoke, he knew your answer had never changed, yet he always offered anyways. He was sweet that way. It was different with weed, you supposed. 

You were always terrified your father would be able to see right through you, be able to sniff the drugs on you like a hound dog. You made excuses for booze. 

Your father provided red wine during Sunday services, the blood of the lord for all to taste, cannibalism in its cleanest, purest form. Counting on two hands the number of times you and Peter had snuck into the old, gothic church your father managed, getting drunk off the wine in the wooden pews under the stained glass windows was impossible. 

You watched as Peter leaned his guitar against the windowsill, grabbing a lighter from his other pocket, the snake tattoos curled and wrapped along his finger seeming to hiss at you in the dim light of your room. 

“Peter?” you called, making his head snap up, the fire from his light diminishing as fast as it came. “C-can I light it for you?” you asked shyly, watching as that boyish grin that you loved so much came to his face, dimples appearing as he took you in, realizing you were serious. 

“You wanna be an angel and help me out eh?” he teased, making you nod frantically. 

Angel. 

The words alone had your toes curling in your thigh-high socks you knew Peter adored, his fingers always seeming to toy with the little black bows whenever he got the chance. He towered over you even more than he already did as he stood, making his way over to where your body was lounging on the ruffled white sheets. 

“Dad’s not home ya know. I forgot about that.” you tugged on your inner cheek, watching as Peter dropped to his knees before you, like a devil about to spread its wings. 

Begging for mercy before you. 

“Does that mean you do wanna hit then?” he asked, blunt between his teeth as your thumb flicked the flame to life, watching the blues and oranges crackle as you lit his joint. 

“Don’t know how.” you shrugged, watching as he exhaled, the sweet sickly smell of weed filling your senses as he exhaled.

 “We can try something if you want bunny. D’trust me?” You nodded, eager to obey his commands. He smiled, rings cold against your chin as he grabbed it lightly, the pads of his fingers slightly calloused from the strings. 

“Say ahh bunny.” You opened your mouth widely, the smoke he had inhaled floating into your mouth as he exhaled, fogging up your lungs. He was so close you could hear the thud of his heartbeat, could feel the soft heat rolling off him in waves to soothe you in a gentle embrace. 

“Atta girl!” he laughed as you felt the sticky taste coat the back of your throat, mouth turning dry as the Saraha.

 “Peter this tastes like shit.” you groaned, coughing and sputtering as he gently slapped your arm. “No swearing. Or else I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.” he teased, making you burst out in laughter as he rolled onto the bed, smooshing your lower half with his bodyweight- making you groan as his head lolled. 

You felt your skin warm to the touch with how close he was to you, your legs parted slightly so he could wedge his way between them and rest on you. 

“I gotta do my homework silly.” you smiled as he took another puff, his eyes turning a fair shade of red as he watched the smoke slither upwards.

 “I can be your study buddy if ya want.” 

“I’d get no work done if you were my study buddy. You distract me too much.” you teased, giggling as his hand reached over to tickle your thigh gently. “We’d make such a great team. We could be on the mathletes together bunny.” 

You rolled your eyes at his sly commentary, a hand slipping through the soft, messy tumbles of his hair as he sighed in happiness. Nails began to scratch his scalp soothingly, and his chest began to rumble- purring like a cat as you tended to him. 

Just as you wanted. 

The curtains rustled in the breeze that snaked through the cracked window goosebumps appearing on your bare skin as the papes blew. You looked out through the glass, scoping out the graves that surrounded your house. 

You could map out the entire cemetery as you had lived in this old, creaking house your entire life- could picture every little twisted path and old rusting benches that were scattered. It was peaceful here, the only real company consisted of the ghosts and Peter when he came over to visit. 

Your father was never really present, too busy with the works of the church than his own flesh and blood.

 It was an easy silence between the two of you, one you enjoyed immensely. It was different than the other silences you had dealt with in your lifetime- long and uncomfortable. With Peter, they were pleasant and easy, a place where you could be in your own thoughts and not feel bad about it. 

You were lost in them now, as you looked down at him. 

He’s never looked so beautiful. How did I get so lucky- to score him as my best friend? 

Continuing your head scratches, you let your head lull against the headboard, closing your eyes to tune out the world. He continued to smoke, hand resting on your thigh with each inhale. 

“You got somewhere I can put this angel?” he asked, hand waving as he gestured to the stump of the blunt, the weed diminishing. You hadn't realized how much time had passed, the hands on the clock hoping forward since the last time you had looked over at them. 

“Over there is fine.” you pointed to the little dish on the dresser you had left for him whenever he was over, degrading it whenever your father returned home. 

You didn't comment on how much Peter had smoked, just as you didn't comment on how much whisky your father drank whenever he got mad. 

You didn't care enough. 

He shuffled up, puffing the remainder towards you, the smoke cascading around your cheeks, tickling your eyelashes as the old bed creaked. 

“You’re such a doll, you know that?” You smiled. 

“Maybe. It's not like you tell me allll the time or anything.” you teased, poking fun at how sweet he was to you. No one was as ever kind to you as Peter was. It made your insides tingle, made your skin all sensitive to the touch. 

He smiled that cheeky grin that drove you wild, tapping the ash into the dish before he crushed it with his fingers, rings glittering in the soft candlelight. Your homework was long forgotten at this point, your attention solely focused on the beautiful angel of a man that stood before you at the foot of your bed. 

“Hi.” you waved to him, his hand raising to wave back from across the room. 

“Hi bunny.”

 “Cmere.” you insisted, and he smirked as he crawled onto the bed, the look in his eye hungry as he took you in. You looked at him now, really looked at him as his strong arms slid to each side of you, caging you in his hold. 

He was black and blue, the beautiful melancholy shades in between. The way he loved was different than anything you had experienced before. It was scary, a freefall into the depths of the icy water you were scared to tread. But it was numbing- the way he cared. 

A soft and sweet energy, that pricked you gently like pins and needles. His breath was warm as he refused to break eye contact and you wanted to shrink into the depths of the mattress as you felt yourself cave. 

“I bet you taste so good.” he confessed softly, his words making you shudder with delight. 

You knew where this was going. It was heading down the old beaten path the two of you had stumbled down so many times, when you were both drunk off sin in the walls of the church. 

You liked it. 

“Yeah?”

 “Yeah angel. Mmm god I think about tasting you all the time, your skin, your lips, your fingertips..” he trailed off, head dropping down to your chest, rubbing his nose against the skin of your collarbone. 

You felt your hips wriggle, wetness seeping into your panties. “What do you think they taste like?” you sighed as his teeth gently grazed you, biting into your flesh to mark it as his own. 

“Like cinnamon n sugar. So. Fuckin. Sweet.” he kissed your neck between each word as you gigged softly, his plump lips making you squirm. 

“You’re so addicting baby. The things I wanna do to you…” he smirked, licking a stipe where your silky nightgown dipped, revealing the slight curve of your breasts. 

Heels were dug into the ruffled sheets, the sound of your books falling to the hardwood below echoed as the strong breeze brushed you again. No amount of wind could chill the fire that was burning in your veins right now. 

“But we can’t do them. Cause we’re best friends.” you pouted, running your fingers along the back of his neck, curving them around to trace each vein that pulsed as he shivered. 

“Who says?” he whispered, like he was in a trance, and you felt your dress being pushed up, up, up to pool around your waist, your stomach exposed as his head dipped down towards it. 

“Best friends do everything together bunny. Don't you think about me like I think about you?” he asked mischievously and you nodded frantically.

 “Mmm sometimes.”

 “Cause I think about you alll the time. Think about how good you’d be for me when I’m strokin my dick.” he confessed, shuffling down to trail kisses across your stomach, your legs spreading wider as he found his home between them. 

“Y-yeah?” you whimpered, heart beating so fast you heard the blood racing in your ears, his voice sounding distant. It was hard to focus, but at the same time it was hard to focus on anything but him. 

The human body was a funny thing, sometimes. How yours could bend and contract to his will at the whisper of his voice, at the touch of his skin.

 “Mmm yeah. You make me wanna do such bad bad things. But you’re too sweet for that.” 

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. 

“Peter-” 

“Can I tase you? Please? Just a lil lick, I swear.” 

You moaned at his words alone. How did they sound so sweet, so innocent when there was so much filth behind them? You could never say no to him.

 Never. 

“Please.” you urged, the chill breeze making you tremble as he removed your thong, your knees bent slightly over his shoulders. It happened in a blur, time seeming to jump and snap back again as he had you under his thumb, hanging onto every word he said. 

The first lick sent you into overdrive, body shifting up gears as you crude out his name- hands tugging at his strands of hair as if they were reins. The faint scent of weed trickled through your nose, blemishing your skin and sweat as it trickled. 

You couldn't think. Couldn't move, couldn't speak. 

You and Peter had fooled around before but this…this was new territory. And it felt good. A lick turned into a taste as you heard him growl, tongue stroking through your sensitive folds again. 

“You- you said just a taste-” you panted out, hips thrusting against him as he chuckled.

 “I lied. You should've known.” he teased, eyes meeting yours again- stare so intense you had to look away. 

It was frightening- the eye contact. It was an endless void, a freefall you weren't sure if you'd have a hand to catch you. It was filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, a haziness that made you feel sluggish, like you had drank too much cheap booze, and smoked too many cigarettes. 

You were as breathless as the summer's night outside as he dived back in, malnourished and needy as he devoured you. His lips suctioned around your clit, sucking it sweetly as you wethered and moaned. 

“So so sweet…” he murmured. You felt yourself snap under him as his tongue pushed you over the edge, releasing onto his face as you cried out. His hands tightened their grip around the barricade of your thighs, chin gleaming with your juices as your body shuddered from the aftershocks. 

“That's a girl. My sweet sweet angel.” he sang out, shuffling up to kiss your lips gently, the taste of yourself staining your mouth. You savored his affections, wrapping your arms around his neck, desperate for something to cling to. 

You were scared to let him go, scared he would leave you vulnerable and open like all the others. He sensed your hesitation, rolling over to the side of you, nuzzling his head into your neck as you continued to hold him close. 

“Was I good?” you asked meekly, your biggest fear not being enough for him. 

He just smiled. 

“More than good. The best.” he whispered, kissing your skin. You exhaled a sigh of relief, tension seeping from your bones as you cradled him. 

You heard an owl coo out from the branches of the old oak tree that scratched your house, the wind howling against the old siding. You basked in the emptiness of the room, no one here but the two of you and the peeling posters that peered down at you from the walls.

 He wasn't leaving you. He wasn't embarrassed or ashamed and he was staying with you. He wanted to do this. 

It was hard to think about, hard to wrap your head around it as you had been so shameful of your desires towards him for so long. The old wooden cross that was hung above your bed seemed almost mocking as it reflected in your vanity mirror, a symbol of overcoming sin now with a meaning diminished. 

“You awake?” you asked Peter softly, ripping your eyes from the wood, knowing your father's words would haunt you the longer you were left to your own avail.

 There were so many responses you wanted to spew out to him. 

God loves you- but not enough to save you. 

But you didn’t, to save yourself the abuse of his wrath. 

“Mmm.” he mumbled sleepy, the weed putting him a place of serenity and calm as he synced his breathing with yours. “Did you want me to return the favor?” you mumbled, feeling bad he didn't get the same opportunity you did. 

He just shook his head. “Another time angel. Let me just… lie with you. I like when I just get to be with you like this.” he yawned, bed creaking as he slung his arm around your waist to pull you closer.

 “Okay. Whatever you want.” 

Silence. 

You sighed, flexing your feet, then pointing your toes. The red polish glimmered as the shadows of the wax dripping off the candles bounced off the walls, the smell of the incessant to “hide” the weed smelling of sandalwood. 

A truck rumbled in the distance, its tires rolling against the gravel. Peter sat up, eyes flickering to the headlights that beamed towards the house, making you feel anxious as you clung to the bedsheet. 

Was your father home early? He wasn't supposed to be home until tomorrow night, and you knew if he walked in on you and Peter- you’d never hear the end of it. 

“Is he home?” Peter shook his head as he moved towards the window, and you readjusted your nightgown. His hair was messy and rumpled as he stood, hands resting on the windowsill as he peered down.

 A grin was on his face as he turned back to face you, your heartbeat slowing its dangerous pace with an exhale. 

He wasn't home. Or else Peter wouldn't be smiling. 

“Well? Who the hell is at my house at-” Your eyes flickered back to the clock. “Eleven at night?” 

Peter just shrugged, a cheeky look on his face as he walked towards the bedroom door, grip on the brass handle tightening as he swung it wide open. 

You heard the front door open, two familiar voices echoing from down the hallway. 

Bucky and Steve. 

“Look who decided to pay us a visit!” Peter laughed, making you shake your head with a smile. 

Look who decided to visit indeed. 

[lia-ray]

Bound To You

summary: (fem!reader) (Andrew Garfield!Spiderman) Peter has this fantasy of him fucking you as Spiderman, and who are you to say no? (NSFM) (SMUT)

Content Warnings: dom!tasm!peter parker, unprotected sex, degradation kink, praise kink, innocent reader, role playing, allusions to cheating, rough sex, jealousy, oral sex (f), nipple play, fingering, coming inside reader, implied overstimulation.

Sex was good.

It was romantic and slow, and you liked it. It was everything you had wanted, and more, when your boyfriend had taken your virginity. Now though? Now something was missing. You didn't know what that something was, but something was missing.

You couldn't remember who had initially mentioned the idea, but you had a suspicion it was Peter because, on that Saturday evening rather than going over the mutual Chemistry assignment you had, he wound up kissing you the moment you walked into his dorm:

You instantly swing your arms around his shoulders, stumbling into him clumsily as you ask into his lips: "Wait — what about Harry? Isn't he home?"

"Shh, don't say his name when I'm kissing you," Peter mumbles into your mouth as he suddenly shoves you onto his mattress and quickly climbs over you to kiss your exposed shoulder. You can't hide your grin as you wrap your legs around his hips, hands tugging at his brown locks.

Harry had always made Peter jealous. It was an unwarranted jealousy since you had never shown any interest in Harry. Ever. But you wouldn't lie, Peter's jealousy made your lower stomach tighten marvelously.

"I missed you," He moans and leans in to kiss you again, pulling on your lip this time, dropping it and kissing you once more, hungrier this time.

"You saw me this morning!"

"Your point, Miss (y/l/n)?" Peter asks seriously, disconnecting your lips and staring at you like you had just said the most scandalous thing, "I missed you, okay? I missed your nose, your hair, these beautiful lips."

He quickly kisses you again, "I missed seeing you like this; hair mused over my pillow and skin exposed. Can't I miss my girlfriend?"

You beam up at him, taunting him, "Kiss me again then, Mr. Parker."

And he does. He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you. While you love his kisses, you had also missed him very very much, and you didn't understand why he wasn't making any moves to, well, have sex with you.

"Please, do something Pete, I want you." You whisper, giggling as his hair skims your cheek and goosebumps scatter across your skin when he kisses your neck passionately, intensionally leaving his mark.

"Have some patience (y/n), I wanna fuck you but," He begins and as he does, his lips suddenly disappear from your skin. You look at him curiously as he sits up. When he hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you lower onto the mattress so he can really tower over you, you squeal happily.

"I wanna fuck you as Spiderman." He finishes, looking at you with dark, lustful eyes. You choke on air at this confession and quickly lean up onto your elbows, hair spilling across your shoulders.

"What?"

"You heard me." Peter says, stroking your exposed thigh with his thumb. He then begins to bunch up your skirt and you close your eyes, moaning quietly, "Kinda like role playing? Imagine you don't know I'm me? If that makes sense? It would be so fucking hot, don't you think?" He whines, leaning down to kiss your lips again as he rubs his palm over your panties.

You can't deny that that sounds super hot as heat pools in your core and you bite your lip, "W-would that mean I would be cheating on—you?"

He laughs, his hand moving quicker as you buck your hips, seeking the pleasure he's creating, "Yeah, I guess so." He admits but then he's gripping your thigh with his other hand and whispering hotly against your ear, "But Spiderman could make it up to you."

You groan.

He looks down at the dampness of your panties with amusement, "You're dripping, princess. You want my fingers, don't you?"

You whimper in response, cheeks warm as you look at your boyfriend. He looks beautiful from this angle; with his hair toppling over his features and wearing that lopsided smirk you love so much, "Words love, use your words." Peter chastises, pulling at your panties and letting them snap back onto your clit.

"Yes! I want your fingers." You moan.

"What about Spiderman, do you want his fingers too?" Peter taunts as he pushes your panties aside and slowly dips his index into your pussy.

You arch your back, moaning and automatically nodding your head with enthusiasm. You shut your eyes and groan when Peter adds another finger, and another as he pumps them in and out. You can't see him but you're sure his hazelnut eyes are burning into your skin as he watches you squirm underneath him.

"Good girl." He praises as he presses his thumb on your clit, rubbing a little and causing you to whine out as your legs shake. "You want to come all over my hand, huh? Is that what you want?"

You nod, "Please." You say and suddenly, his fingers curl up. In surprise, you jerk and attempt to close your legs as your back arches.

"Oh!" Your scream is smothered by his kiss. One of his hands push on your thigh, preventing your legs from closing as you come.

When Peter removes his hand from your middle, your smiling up at him with glazed eyes. He smiles back and brings his fingers to your lips. You let them slide into your mouth as you begin to suck on them, tasting your juices.

"You should leave your window open tonight, Spiderman might visit you." Peter teases, winking.

Your smile widens around his hand, "I'll wait up." You mumble and you know by the stupid grin he's wearing that he understood every word you so said, no matter how incoherent around his hand.

* * *

It's almost midnight now as you lay in your twin-sized bed, listening intensely to the sounds of the wind and any movements that could be happening outside your window. Because your roommate was out visiting family, it was only you, the darkness, and your pounding heart.

You turn onto your side, playing nervously with the silk pajama shirt you had on as you chew on your lower lip. It was exhilarating, knowing that when Spiderman came in through your window, you would pretend to have no clue he's Peter Parker. Your Peter Parker.

Your mind begins to wander, imagining Spiderman's — Peter's — lips on yours and how his spandex covered hands would tighten on your hips as he drove his dick into you, again and again. You subconsciously rub your thighs against each other.

Suddenly, you're pulled from your thoughts as the window opens wider and you instantly shoot up in bed, cheeks burning and core throbbing as you stare at Peter — no, Spiderman.

He tilts his head, simply continuing to stare in silence as you pull your legs closer to your chest, the blanket still draped across them, "Hi." You manage to croak out, not sure how Peter wanted this to happen. When he didn't answer, you lean more into the fantasy, "Spiderman? What do you want?"

He walks closer, "You." He rasps out and you're instantly reassured by hearing Peter behind the mask. You blink at him when he raises his arm and in a blur, your gently thrown against the headboard, your hands are restrained at either side of you head.

Webs, he's holding you in place with his webs.

You can't seem to talk when Spiderman approaches you. You want too, and you want him to kiss you so badly but because he's wearing his mask, you don't think that's an option.

You're quickly proven wrong because as Spiderman crawls over you, basically straddling your hips now, he pulls up his mask a little over his nose and captures your lips in his. His cold hands cup your cheeks and you instinctively lean into his touch.

"Mmm, you're an obedient little thing aren't you?" Spiderman whispers roughly, smiling into your mouth. You can't suppress your own smile because deep down, this is all just a little bit funny. All this pretending as if you didn't know that under the mask it's Peter. Your Peter.

"I have a boyfriend."

Still, it certainly is fun to pretend.

"And you've made no attempts to push me away." Spiderman chuckles, sliding his finger down your cheek until he slips his thumb into your mouth. In the dim moonlight, he looks even more alluring than he would have in the daytime and in some way, he looks almost ominous. It makes you wetter.

"Some boyfriend you must have."

When he removes his thumb, you almost laugh but he kisses you instead. You want to tell him that you have the most amazing boyfriend but you can't because when he disconnects your lips, he's talking again.

"Did you wear this for him?" He pulls on the collar of the shirt you're wearing and quickly you look down and then up at him again, nodding innocently. "I think he would have loved it. I know I do." You smile as he leans down and begins to kiss and suck across your neck and collarbone.

"Pe—Spiderman!" You moan when he slowly unbuttons the shirt and slips one hand inside to knead your breast. You arch up into him, pulling the webs holding you in place as he pulls down your shirt to take one nipple into his mouth.

You moved around under him as his other hand travels lower and lower, pushing the blankets aside as you hold your breath. When you feel his hand halt over your middle and see him look up at you, mouth ajar, you smile.

"Oh, so you're also a slut?" Spiderman taunts, palm now resting nonchalantly on your bare pussy. You squirm and shake your head. Spiderman only nods, "Oh but I think you are. Such a dirty slut. Mmm, I wonder if you're as wet as I think."

You groan and clench your hands as he runs one finger over your slit and your cheeks burn in embarrassment when he laughs. "Wow, you're wetter." He exclaims and lightly slaps your pussy, "Slut." He grins, squeezing your boob with his other hand.

"Kiss me." You whisper.

Hearing those words, he slips his finger into you and you buck your hips, "What was that?" Spiderman taunts again.

"Kiss me!"

"What about your boyfriend, little dove?" It's a game and Peter's enjoying it way too much. He smirks as you suppress your moan and he begins to fully finger you under the blanket.

"I don't care, just kiss me! Please!" You cry. He smirks and moves quicker and harder. You can feel your stomach tighten and you know you're not going to last much longer.

"I'm going to — " You whimper but he interrupts you with a kiss again, also pulling his hand away. He doesn't give you time to complain when the minute he disconnects your lips, his hand covers your mouth.

"You come when I say you come. Now listen closely, I'm going to unweb your hands and turn you around. Then, you're going to show me that pretty ass of yours and let me do whatever I want to you, okay?"

You quickly nod, eyes blown wide with lust as his roughness turns you on. You want him to manhandle you this time, "And do you know why?"

You shake your head.

"Because that's how you treat cheating whores."

You grin behind his hand, that word sending pleasurable shockwaves into your pussy and you nod even quicker than the previous time. You feel dirty but, somehow, you like it. It's the good kind of dirty, the safe kind. You know you're always safe when he's around.

When Spiderman removes his hand, you stare up at him with that purposefully innocent look in your eyes and you whisper, "Fuck me."

"God," He mutters quietly, "So impatient." He cautiously pulls on the webbing from around your wrist as to not hurt you, but the minute your hands are free he lifts you up and turns you around.

You squeal when your head hits the pillow, your hair toppling over your eyes. Spiderman is pulling your hands behind your back and binding them with webs again so you can't prop yourself up or move. You hear him laugh, "Good girl."

"Honey, here, let me." He says condescendingly as his arm slides under your waist and roughly pulls you up so you're resting on your knees, ass in the air. You moan when he slaps your ass, his hands kneading the skin.

"You're such a beautiful girl." Spiderman says and you have to bury your head in the pillow to suppress the needy sounds you make when you feel his hot breath on your pussy.

You squirm when he licks up your core, hands gently pushing open your thighs. He begins to suck gently on your clit.

He has never done this to you, no one has, and it feels like you're about to bursts. You moan and squirm around as he only works quicker, smiling into your pussy and kissing it.

"You like it when I do this?"

"Uhh huh." You groan out when he licks you again, and again until you're seeing stars and begging to come.

"You're wetting my mask with your juices, dirty girl." Spiderman taunts, leaning up onto his knees and you hear him start to shift around and take the suit off.

"I'm sorry, please, I'm so sorry. Oh!! I need you so badly."

"Who do you need, slut?" He whispers roughly as he lines up his dick with your slit. He's whispering dirty things in your ear as he teases you and you're crying now, tears wetting the pillow under you. When his hand bunches up your hair to pull your head back, you can't hold it in and you come on his dick with a loud moan.

"Did you just come?" Spiderman asks, a little surprised. However his hold doesn't loosen on your hair, it hardens and he pulls your head back harder, "I said, did you come, slut?"

You nod, biting you lip as you steady your breaths, "What you going to do about it, tiger?" You pant, challenging as much cockiness as you can.

You swallow your words when you feel him press into you in one quick thrust, "Shut up." He demands when you whimper. "Damn, I'm going to enjoy this." He growls, pushing your head down as he thrusts into you harder and harder.

"Who do you need, (y/n)?" He hisses, punctuating your name with a hard thrust.

"You!" You moan without thinking, stomach tightening again.

"Say my name! Who's slut are you?"

"Your slut! Spiderman's slut," You pant.

"Damn right, you're mine now. Mine. I might have to take you all night and every night from now on you feel so amazing. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He rambles, fucking you rougher than he has ever done and it's like you're floating.

You can only nod meekly as you make needy sounds to match his thrusts.

"I knew you would."

His hand tightens around your hair again, fucking you with passion as he whispers dirty things in the shell of your ear again. It's animalistic and rough and you've never experienced pleasure like this. You're kind of ashamed of how much you're liking it.

"It's always the innocent ones that are so cock hungry."

You moan.

"Spiderman, I'm going to come again!" You exclaim and his thrusts slow a little, making you groan in frustration, "Please, p-please." You whimper.

"You come once I come!" He explains and begins to kiss across your neck and jaw, "Now, be a good girl and put some work into this. Don't be a useless whore."

You moan and move your hips to his thrusts, opening your mouth wider as you continue making those desperate sounds he loves so much.

"Good girl." Spiderman praises and kisses your neck again, his hand slowly going to rub your clit. When he begins to play with the sensitive nub and you moan loudly.

"S-stop, you're going to make me come again."

"Good because I'm coming too." And sure enough, he's spilling into you as his grip tightens on your hair. Feeling him come makes you come, and you mumbled his name. His real name; Peter.

Suddenly it all become a little too much in your post orgasm haze and you begin to shake, "I'm sorry. I-I," You're not sure you want to end the scene because this kind of fucking was exactly what you had been missing, but this is the first time you've come so hard and you can't seem to breath normally as you feel weaker than ever.

"Peter. I need Peter. Please." You croak out, continuing to bury your face in the pillow as you cry from the pleasure and an unknown feeling in your chest.

Spiderman drops his hold on your hair gently, quickly shifting and pulling out. He breaks the webbing around your wrists and turns you around. When you look up, it's not exactly Spiderman anymore but a naked Peter, his mask already discarded on the ground.

"What's wrong (y/n)? What happened? It's me, it's so only me, did I hurt you?"

He cups your cheeks and uses his thumb to wipe your tears as he examines your expression with concern. You sit up to hug him, "Peter." You mumble his name like a chant and bury your hands in his hair.

"You're okay, I promise." He coos.

You nod, "I know, I know. I just, it's dark and I've never come like this and I couldn't see you and it all suddenly scared me. I'm sorry I ruined the moment, I just wanted you!"

You hug him tighter, skin on skin as your breathing calms. Peter wraps his arms around you too, pulling your disheveled shirt up your shoulder again as he kisses it.

"I'm here." He promises.

Once you've regained your bearings, you pull away and smile at your boyfriend. You're both naked and covered in sweat, and you have Peter's come inside you and smeared on your inner thighs.

"H-how was it?" He asks nervously.

"It was amazing. Simply amazing. I've never come so hard in my life." You say, kissing him. Only when you pull away a little, your hand is still in his hair, "But you know you're enough for me, right, Pete? Because you being Spiderman is amazing and all, but I love Peter Parker. No one can fuck me like Peter can and this," You point between you and him, "Only proved that."

He lights up at you comment, pulling you in to kiss you again, "Good," He mumbles in between kisses, "because no one but me can fuck you."

"Only you and Spiderman?" You giggle, teasing him.

He looks up at you, cheeks a little pink, "Yeah, only me and Spiderman."

"Good." You grin.

[peterparkerswife3000]

Love Languages

Could be Tom!peter, but I just like this gif

Just a blurb

————————

Peter didn’t know anything about love languages. One of his friends told him that girls want you to know their love language. They want to be able to tell through your actions and that’s how they know that you love them. Peter didn’t want to make you doubt your relationship so he wanted to show you love through your love language. But he was honestly failing miserably.

He liked holding you and kissing you, but he also liked to spoil you and bring you flowers. He liked coming home and spending time with you, but he liked making sure you didn’t have to worry about chores like taking your car to get oil changed. He was honestly so confused. Quality time? Physical touch? Gift giving? Whatever it was he couldn’t figure it out. Has he been neglecting you all this time without putting effort into your love language.

Did you even know how much he loved you? He’s been trying hard all week by spoiling you in a thousand ways. You were confused as to what was going on but you didn’t mind. Peter still couldn’t tell which language was the one you enjoyed. What if you had a different love language than the ones that he was seeing? He was desperately trying to figure out what to do until you couldn’t take it anymore. “Peter what’s gotten into you?” You asked him. “You know I love you and I’m really enjoying myself but you seem tense these days, and your really going over the top.” You finish.

“You know I love you right? I just need to make sure you know” he told you. “Of course I know that baby… and I love you. So much.” You say “is that what this is all about?” You ask. “It’s just that… I don’t want to love you the wrong way. I want to make sure you feel loved the way you like.” He said seemingly stressed. “Baby, there’s no wrong way to love me. Just love me and that’s enough” you laugh lightheartedly.

“I can do that” he smiled pressing his lips onto yours. You laugh into the kiss as he pulls you back. When you guys finally fall apart, out of breath you tell him “I know you love me Peter, and I hope you know that I love you too.”

[dilf-lover99]

The Secrets We Keep | P.P.

Pairing: Tasm! Peter Parker x Reader (no pronouns mentioned)

Summary: Reader and Peter have been together for over a year, but lately Peter’s been acting strange. When a rumour goes around that he’s cheating, will Peter finally confess the secret he’s been keeping?

Warnings: angst (with a happy ending), major miscommunication(s), spreading of a rumour, mentions of cheating, a kiss or two, like two swear words i think?

Word Count: 3.4k

a/n: this has been in my drafts forever but better late than never i guess ! happy reading besties<3

There are certain moments in time, you believe, specific junctures in which you can unambiguously determine a person’s character. 

For instance, when Peter Parker magnanimously rescued you from being the quintessential misplaced new kid on your first day of school, shattering your momentary apprehension with a series of epigrammatic jokes, you knew he was good. He was the type of person you could trust with anything, with everything.

Including your heart.

You never intended for it to happen. For the mere sight of his gentle crooked grin to set loose a thousand monarch butterflies within the environs of your stomach. For his lambent mahogany eyes to elevate the beating of your heart to a near-incomprehensible speed each time they came into contact with your own. For your fingers to itch with envy each time he ran a slender hand through the tousled strands of chestnut resting contently atop his head.

You never intended to fall for him, but you did. 

And somehow, to your outright unabridged relief, he reciprocated your affections.

Peter Parker was no longer the unattainable fantasy that consumed hours of your thoughts with visions of stolen kisses or illusions of whispered devotions. He was your boyfriend.

Perfection is a counterfeit concept; An unobtainable title which countless people have fallen short attempting to procure. But the first year of your relationship with Peter was exclusively comparable to the word perfect.

Peter was the resolute characterization of what a partner should be. Patient and understanding, affectionate and gentle, always there with a witty joke and a whimsical grin on your good days, or a comforting embrace and sibilations of reassurance on your bad ones.

Recently, things have been different. Peter has been different.

When you see him, on the rare days he’s not preoccupied with matters he neglects to inform you of, he’s perceptibly distracted, his fascinatingly intricate mind absorbed with thoughts of something else entirely.

You’ve contemplated bringing it up with him, yearning for some reassurance that you’re still what he wants, but each time your words attempt the journey from your brain to your lips, they get stuck in traffic. How exactly does one ask their boyfriend why he’s avoiding them like an umbrella-wielding pedestrian in an unusually heavy stretch of rainfall?

In all fairness, you’ve been avoiding him too. Since Friday night. Harry Osborne had thrown a party that night, ‘The Party to End All Parties’ according to the entirety of your peers. Extravagant house parties and overflowing crowds aren’t your preferred circumstances for socialization, but you seized the long-overdue opportunity to spend some time with Peter.

You wish you hadn’t.

You can’t pinpoint the precise origin of the conversation, only the ending which resulted in your premature departure from the Osborne residence, neglecting to mutter so much as a goodbye to Harry while the biting sting of unshed tears filled your eyes.

“I just- I wanted to spend some time together. I feel like we hardly see each other anymore.” Your voice trails off at the end, becoming a mere shadow of its former self.

“We see each other all the time! I was at your dorm the day before yesterday.” Peter’s voice holds firm in both volume and pitch, he’s not yelling but you can sense his tone’s underlying urgency as his hand weaves its way through his auburn tresses.

“That was Monday, Pete.” 

“Okay, then we saw each other on Monday. Can you just give me a little space? Please? Just for a couple hours. I’ll come find you after and we can talk, okay?” His chocolate eyes soften near the tail-end of his sentence, making it evident how blissfully unaware he is of the internal war now waging behind your eyelids.

It takes more strength than you knew you could muster, to prevent the plethora of melancholy emotions from overtaking your being as you mutter, “You know what? I actually have that Chem lab on Monday morning, I think- I’m just gonna’ go home and study.” You don’t wait for his response, uncertain if it would only cause you more heartache, turning swiftly on your heels and making an abrupt exit.

You’re adrift in the memory, wondering if you should have reacted differently, explained to him the impact that the nuance of his words had on you. An unyielding hand on your shoulder seizes your attention, graciously preventing you from vigorously overthinking any further.

A single glance informs you that the impeccably manicured hand belongs to none other than Penelope Marsh, designated campus gossip. You can count on one hand the amount of conversations you’ve had with Penelope since you started university that didn’t include her spreading a rumour like a wildfire. You’re certain this encounter isn’t likely to take up another.

“(y/n), I just wanted to say that I’m so sorry. About what Peter did to you at that party. It was so messed up, seriously. Nobody deserves that.” There’s a discernible undertone of pity to her voice, though she wasn’t sorry enough to hold off commencing the conversation to begin with.

“How did you-?” You cut yourself off with a gentle shake of your head, a chuckle of acknowledgement breaking through. A magician never reveals their secrets and a Penelope never reveals their sources; You’re wondering if there’s not a trace of magic in the girl alike, the speed with which she seems to possess other people’s secrets is borderline wizardry. “Never mind,” You simper amusedly, your outward cheeriness fading as you continue, “It wasn’t a big deal, really. Every couple has disagreements, right? We’re fine.” You aren’t entirely sure which of you it is you’re trying to convince.

She’s looking at you with a mixture of pity and confusion, though you haven’t the faintest idea what she could possibly be confused about. She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again, akin to that of a gulping fish in the sea, “(y/n), whatever you said in the argument doesn’t justify him hooking up with some rando! There’s no way you guys can be fine after that!”

What?

You want to call her a liar, or tell her that she’s wildly mistaken, but you don’t. You’ve been driving yourself near the brink of insanity wondering what Peter’s been hiding from you. Though you could never imagine him doing this, how can you immediately deny the only answer you’ve been offered?

You have a plethora of questions, each one violently clawing at your trachea with its talons in an attempt to be the first one out. The words never make it past your lips, though the burning sensation remains in your throat. Articulation ceases to be within the realm of your current capabilities, because, how does one verbalize the breaking of their heart?

Penelope, with all of her ill-timed metaphorical bomb-droppings, is perceptive enough to read you like a storybook, “Oh my god. You had no idea, did you? Oh I’m so sorry! I thought- Actually, scratch that, I wasn’t thinking at all.”

Had these been any other set of circumstances, you’d find great amusement in watching the typically put together Penelope Marsh stumble over her words in a misguided yet well-meaning attempt to soothe you. But the verisimilitude of the situation persists like the unceasing violence of a thunderstorm without the assurance of a tepid luminous addendum.

Peter didn’t want to be alone that night, he just didn’t want to be with you.

Suddenly, the mere idea of sticking around for the Chem lab you’d spent the remainder of that Friday night studying for, turned the tides in your stomach. You have to get out of here.

And so you do.

Wallowing.

That’s the only activity you’ve partaken in since Penelope told you about Peter’s supposed cheating scandal this morning. The logical part of your brain knows you owe it to him, or at the very least yourself, to have a rational adult discussion about everything before mourning the loss of a relationship that hasn’t actually ended yet.

But the acerbic heartbroken part of you isn’t keen on having a conversation with him at all.

Neither part of you knows the appropriate way to react when Peter shows up at your dorm holding a charmingly disheveled bouquet of flowers.

“Hi.” His eyes take their time searching each carefully crafted feature on your face before stopping at your own eyes, a timid smile resting on his delicate lips.

When you don’t answer, Peter takes a modest step inside, softly closing the door behind him without breaking eye contact. “I’m a jerk.” He states resolutely, knowing it’s best to usher the elephant out of the room before it causes any severe damage.

You let out a sardonic chuckle at his words, believing they hold an air of truth to them now more than you ever thought previously. “You can say that again.” The sound of your own voice takes you by surprise, you were honestly unsure wether you were going to speak or not.

“I’m a jerk,” He repeats with a heart-shatteringly beautiful smile, making things even harder than they were before.

You can’t take it anymore, the bitter resentful part of you can’t, at least, “Penelope Marsh.” You state simply.

It’s unfair, truly, how Peter manages to look so handsome, even now, sporting a look of outright confusion. “What?”

“Penelope Marsh.” You say again, as if you’re adding any level of clarification.

“Gossip Girl?” He jokes, “What about her?”

“A year and a half, Pete! We’ve been together for a year and a half, and I have to find out you don’t want me anymore through Penelope goddamn Marsh.” Woah. You said that.

The words hit you harder than they did when they were simply thoughts. But you don’t ignore the minuscule tinge of pride you receive for finally verbalizing your feelings.

Peter’s face has paled significantly, he’s trying to convince himself that he couldn’t have possibly heard you correctly. Doesn’t want you anymore? You’re the only thing he wants anymore. That’s why he’s hardly seen you these past few weeks. Keeping you safe is all that matters to him, and if Spider-Man’s enemies found out about you? There would be no more you to want.

But he can’t tell you that.

Because keeping you safe also, painstakingly, means keeping you in the dark. He knows you, better than he knows himself, and he knows how you would react if he told you he was Spider-Man. You would panic first, dismayed at the level of danger he often finds himself in, then you would get angry that he kept this a secret so well and for so long, lastly you would bargain with him, tell him that you were proud of the work he’s done but he’s too young to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders and that he should give it a break, at least until after college.

And as positively relieved as he would be to finally unload the burden of harbouring this secret from you, he’s not ready to give up being Spider-Man, no matter how dangerous it is.

But he also can’t not tell you that.

Because the only thing worse than not being Spider-man anymore, is not being yours anymore.

“(y/n),” He starts, taking gentle determined steps toward you, “You know that’s not true, right?”

You swallow in a futile attempt to rid yourself of the burning feeling that’s once again made itself at home in your throat. “How would I know that Peter? Was I supposed to know you wanted to be with me when you spent all month avoiding me like the plague? Or was I supposed to figure it out when you were hooking up with somebody else at Harry’s party?”

You’re not sure how your brain has finally decided to work in tandem with your vocal chords but you’re glad to rid the words from their endless loop inside your brain.

“What?! (y/n), what the hell are you talkin’ about? I didn’t touch anybody, okay? I swear,” His voice is equal parts frantic and confused, “I would never do that to you! You gotta know that by now.” He takes another step in front of you, the perfect distance to reach out a gentle hand and caress your cheek, though he resists the urge, wanting to give you your space.

“I want to believe that Pete…”

“Okay, so believe it.”

“Then you have to tell me why.”

You both know the meaning of your words, yet he asks, “Why what?”

“Why do we hardly see each other anymore? And when we do, why are you a million miles away? Why are you keeping whatever this secret is? If you didn’t do whatever people are saying you did at that party, then why the hell can’t you just, please, tell me what’s going on?”

There’s an inkling of relief you feel, finally releasing the tiresome burden you’ve been staunchly carrying around for weeks, but there’s also a legion of salty unshed tears waiting to be freed from the surface of your eyes.

Simultaneously, Peter’s eyes well up with their own tears. His brain is shouting at his throat to vocalize the truth, the whole truth, and assure you that you couldn’t be further off the mark.

But it’s like he’s frozen.

The glacial sub-zero temperatures biting at the tips of his fingers prevent them from making contact with your own. The snowstorm waging within the arctic blurs his vision, keeping him from seeing reason.

Sensing a lack of response, you continue with a final desperate plea, “Please, just tell me the truth, Pete.”

Belatedly, the ice thaws, melting away his doubts along with it. You want to know the truth; You deserve to know the truth. And so he makes up his mind. 

He’s going to tell it to you.

His sparkling umber eyes look at you with a mixture of sorrow and determination as he takes one more step, inching ever closer to you, a gesture that conflicts each of the thoughts jumbled together in your head. Closing his eyes briefly, Peter releases a subaqueous sigh before reopening them and fixing them on your own.

“Promise you won’t hate me?” His voice gives its best attempt at a facetious tone, but is quickly overtaken with nerves.

“I could never hate you, Pete.” You admit honestly, reaching your fingers out and resting them gently upon his arm, giving it a tender squeeze of reassurance.

And now he knows that he’s making the right decision.

Because even when you mistakenly think that he may have done something incomprehensibly horrible to you, you’re still comforting him, still vowing to be there for him no matter the circumstances.

Respiring once more, he braves himself as best as he can, and, eyes never wavering from their heavenly contact with your own, utters “I’m Spider-Man.”

You’re not entirely certain your ears have processed his words correctly. They couldn’t have, right?

“You’re what?”

“I’m Spider-Man.” Peter repeats, voice laced with disbelief. He’s shocked that he actually managed to get the words out, twice no less. He’s tried telling you before, a multitude of times in fact, but he’s never managed to come close until now.

Of the myriad of ideas circling around in the confines of your cranium pertaining to the secret that your boyfriend’s been withholding from you, none of them resembled anything similar to the truth.

He’s Spider-Man?

It made no sense. And yet it made all the sense in the world.

How had you not discovered it before?

The plethora of scrapes and bruises being smoothly swept away with a ‘Guess I’m too clumsy for my own good.’ The times he’d been hours late to a date or a study session only to turn up sweat-slicked and out of breath with an ‘I’m an idiot, I’m so sorry.’ The time you attempted to grab a hoodie from his closet only to be stopped by a panic-stricken, ‘No! I’ll get it. It’s- It’s messy in there.’

“You’re Spider-Man.” You murmur, eyes wide.

“Yeah.”

“What the hell, Pete!” You innocuously swat at his arm with your hand, drawing a soft ‘ouch’ from Peter as you continue, “You’ve been Spider-Man this whole time and you’re only telling me now?”

“I didn’t want to put you in danger, (y/n)! Do you have any idea what could happen to you if bad guys find out you’re dating Spider-Man?” Peter’s voice is a plea, desperate for you to understand that he kept this from you because he loves you.

“You should have told me sooner.” You mumble, frustrated, as you know he had a hell of a good reason for keeping it a secret so long.

“I know,” He moves his hand to cup your face, tenderly rubbing shapes into your cheek with his thumb, “I just didn’t know how. I couldn’t-” He rests his forehead against your own, sighing contentedly at the warmth, “I can’t stop being Spider-Man, (y/n), I won’t.”

“I would never ask you to do that, Pete.” You pull back, confounded that his assumptions would suggest otherwise.

“You wouldn’t?”

“No?” Confusion seeps through your utterance.

“It’s not exactly the safest job in the world.” He explains facetiously.

“Oh really? They don’t give you health insurance and monthly check-ups?” Your sarcasm holds a teasing undertone that makes the corners of Peter’s mouth twitch upwards; The early stages of a masterpiece in the making.

Your voice becomes serious once more as you gaze into his eyes, your hand moving to rest over his own on your face, “I don’t doubt it’s dangerous, Pete. But Spider-Man helps people- You help people. That’s pretty amazing.”

There are more words to be shared, further concerns to be addressed, but Peter can’t be bothered to think about anything but kissing you in this moment.

And so he does.

His tender pink lips brush themselves gently upon your own. His hand remains on your face, the opposite one making it’s way up to your other cheek as you wrap both your arms around his waist. The kiss deepens, your lips moving together leisurely and deliberately in synchronous ebullient harmony.

When you finally part, reluctantly requiring the catching of your breath, you’re both donning blindingly luminous smiles.

“I just kissed Spider-Man.”

“Woah, what? Where is he? I’ll kick his ass.” Peter’s blissed out smile remains on his face, widening tenfold as he registers the sound of your laughter originating from his bad joke.

“Hey, what do you think Penelope Marsh was talking about? At the party on Friday?” Your curiosity returns, without the presence of anguish, knowing whole-heartedly that your boyfriend hasn’t broken your heart.

Peter cringes slightly, resting his forehead against yours once more with a diminutive chuckle, “I might have had a small Spider-Man emergency. That’s why I sorta blew you off that night, which I’m still really sorry about, by the way. I snuck out through one of the guest room windows, but when I came back, my hair was all messy and someone opened the door and saw me putting my clothes back on. Not my finest hour.”

You can’t contain the laughter bubbling in your throat, Peter laughing along with you once the sound breaks past your lips. The two of you remain like that for a while, sharing laughs and gentle caresses.

“Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry.” You mutter earnestly.

“What? What’re you sorry for?” His eyebrows are drawn together in confusion while a small pout plays upon his lips.

“For believing that stupid rumour, I know you’d never do anything like that. And I should have told you how I felt sooner, instead of holding it all in until I blew up at you.” Communication is the key to any healthy relationship and you’re frustrated with yourself that you appear to have lost sight of that over the last couple of months.

“Hey,” His voice is velvet as he tenderly grabs hold of your face in both hands, steadying your gaze into his sentimental chestnut eyes, “It’s okay. We’re okay.” He smiles a contagious smile, “I’m sorry too. About everything. Let’s make a promise, okay?”

You nod your head perceptibly, an amiable smile resting contentedly on your lips.

“Promise that, from now on, we’ll tell each other everything, okay? Even if it’s hard, or dumb, or one of those weird facts you always seem to have about the moon.”

“It’s earth’s natural satellite, Pete!”

Your smile widens as Peter chuckles affectionately at your quick defence of moon, “Yeah,” You start, still smiling brightly, “I promise.”

“Good. Me too.” He pulls your body closer to his own, kissing you once more with sincerity.

“I love you.” He mumbles against your lips.

“I love you too.” You murmur bringing him in for another kiss.

You’re veritably certain that you were right, all those moons ago, in your decision to entrust Peter Parker with everything.

Including your heart.

[lotus-and-love]

𝐋𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 || 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⸙͎۪۫ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ : Just a lazy morning between Peter and you.

⸙͎۪۫ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : None. Just fluff and slight smut.

⸙͎۪۫ ᴘᴜʙʟɪꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ : 15th February, 2023.

⸙͎۪۫ ɴᴏᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʟᴏᴛᴜꜱ : Hello. This is my first time writting something. Please like the post if you like this one shot.

Queens, is a busy place. Time never seems stop and everyone just keeps working like working machines. Busy place also means high rate of crime, which makes a cartain neighborhood hero's life harder than it needs to be.

Peter's hero life was hectic. Even after all those years of experience. His hero job takes almost all his day leaving little to no time for Peter to spend. But even after all day of saving lives and stopping crime his girlfriend is there to take care of him.

Whenever Peter comes back with bruises and injuries you are there to patch them up. Whenever Peter is feeling depressed you are there to bring him back to life. Whenever Peter cancels any date you understand like a good girlfriend. But you are also a human being after all. You also want to spend some time with your boyfriend.

Which is why weekends are your favourite days of the week. When Peter has no work so he can spend with you before heading out as spider-man. Just like now when you two are in bed with his head resting in your lap.

You had woken up a few minutes before. Seeing him sleep so peacefully, you didn't want to wake him up. So, you just sat beside him on the bed. Eventually Peter moved his head from the pillow to your lap and you began to run your hand through the brown curly locks.

Hearing a groan you avert your eyes from the window to the boy. He blink eyes a few times before glancing up at you. He made no move romove his head but instead snuggled his head even more in the comfort of your lap

"Why are you up this early?" Peter asked.

You chuckled at your half-concious boyfriend, "It is littraly 7 in the morning, sleepyhead."

"Already?" Peter turned his and rested on the back.

Everything fell into silence. Peter just stared at you without saying anything. You have caught him staring at you in many occasions before. When you still were not dating and were just classmates, you catch him staring at you accross the classroom or cafeteria.

Even after all those years they are still your weakness. Your cheeks heated up with blush, "What?"

"You are beautiful."

This little complements were like charms. You bend down to peak him on the lip but before you could pull away Peter grabbed the back of your head pulled you closer. Lips moving a sync.

His hand brushing through your hair and yous holding his face. Feeling breathless you pull away. Peter sits up on the bed and in an blink of an eye, you are lying on the bed on your back and Peter is hovering over you.

Peter leans down, taking you lips in his once again. His elbow supporting him over you. He brushed his tongue on you lips, asking for permission. You part your lips and let his tongue enter. Your legs wrapping around his waist.

He slipped one hand under his your shirt. Caressing all the way up to your boobs and taking one in his hand. His fingers pressing on the nipple before playing with it by two fingers. Your hands slid down his abs. Fingers brushing lightly over them.

Peter broke the kiss and started placing butterfly kisses down your neck. You turn your head the other side to give him more space. He placed open mouth kiss on the base of your throat. His warm tongue brushing over your cold skin and breathless moans escaping your mouth.

"Peter, are you not getting late?" You mumbled. Mind too clouded to speak normally.

"Criminals can wait. Spider-man is going to be late today. Right now I'm Peter Parker. Your Peter." Peter said before diving down your neck.

That's right Spider-man might be the neighborhood hero but Peter Parker is yours and you will cherish each and every moment with him.

[chthonic-empyrean]

"I felt there was no point in telling anyone anything that was happening inside me."

- Christa Wolf

[rowniebow]

and they were roommates | peter parker x male!reader | 2/7

summary: an everything bagel and spider-man

pairings: tasm!peter parker x male!reader

cw: gun :0

word count: 2.7k+

an: i hope everyone is doing okay with this flu that is going around. remember to stay safe and wash your hands !

previous ⭒ masterlist ⭒ next

⭒

you couldn't help but glare down at the man who resided on your couch. after an extremely long day at work, all you wanted was to watch a movie in your living room in peace.

you could only squeeze your fists and take a breath. you had your mind set on this stupid movie with stupid popcorn and you weren't going to let stupid peter parker on the couch get in the way of your time to recover from your job.

you threw a bag of instant popcorn into your guys' dirty microwave (that you refused to clean because it was most certainly dirtied from peter reheating spaghetti for too long and it exploding on to all the sides. you were sure he didn't clean it to spite you since you, admittedly, made a bigger deal out of it than it had to be.) and changed into comfortable clothing.

you sat the bowl of instant popcorn you had made on the coffee table and looked over the sleeping man. you chewed your lip, debating how this would go over if peter were to wake in a bad mood.

did you care, though?

no.

maybe a little.

i mean, he's irritating but it's not like you want to be mean.

you observed his sleeping face - well, as much of it as you could, anyway. a single eye and nose peaked out, the rest of his face shoved into the cushions. he snored quietly, dreaming of who knows what. his eyebrows were practically glued together

the dark circles under his eyes nearly made you reconsider and retreat with your bowl of practically pure butter and salt.

however, you were determined.

so, you took a deep breath and prepared to enact your plan.

you carefully sat the television remote as in reach of your planned destination as possible: on the arm rest of the couch. you had snagged a throw blanket from your room that you knew he'd like (you had a lot of throw blankets and peter often liked stealing them, so much so that you've been able to figure out what kind of fabric is his favorite) and tucked him in as gently as you could.

nodding to yourself, almost as if you were your own hype man, you acted out the hard part.

you gently slid your hand under his ankles that sat close together despite the rest of his body being so sprawled out. you, ever so slowly, lifted his ankles enough to slip your hips under, and worked your core so that you could slowly sit rather than plop down and make the couch bounce.

stomach burning, you let your hand lower his ankles down onto your lap. when all said and done, you took a moment to look at the bits and pieces of his face you could see from the opposite end of the couch.

all your movements ceased while he shifted with loosened eyebrows. your eyes bigger than ever, he settled and you sat satisfied with yourself.

clicking on to your movie of choice, you smiled at the warmth in your chest from your accomplishment and your comfort.

your fingers tingled and itched to fiddle with something. your jaw ached to chew. smile still on your face you looked around for your popcorn.

a loud groan of annoyance woke peter with a start from his peaceful slumber on his couch when you noticed where your popcorn sat: just barely out of reach.

⭒⭒

"peter! i swear to god, i- ugh!"

peter practically slammed his head into the wall at your irritated tone.

"what do you want?"

"quit leaving your damn clothes all over the place! i mean, christ, how hard is it to just put it on the floor in your own room?"

"pretty hard, actually."

you could barely muster a glare at the man leaning against the doorframe to his room, exhaustion haunting your features.

you leaned over and snatched up the hoodie he had left on the ground.

"alright," you muttered as you walked into your own room, just barely avoiding him from how close your room doors were to each other. "it's mine now then."

you shut the door, a glare on your face the whole time.

peter, quite frankly, was a bit slow at processing all of this. he stared at the closed door, his mouth slowly falling agape and his eyebrows knitting together.

"y/n-!"

"no!" your muffled yell rang out from behind the door.

peter, too tired from his nightly endeavors, only let his head fall and hang. a hand shot up to his neck to massage the growing tension in his muscles from his roommate.

"i really liked that one..." his words were quiet but you heard them all the same.

⭒⭒⭒

you, with your sleeping issues and a roommate who seemed to only leave the apartment between the hours of 9 p.m. and 4 a.m., seemed to only end up doing laundry at the latest hours of the night and earliest hours of the morning.

excuses were often made for why this was, specifically to said late-outing roommate when he was home sick one night and caught you in the act.

"no one is in the twenty-four hour laundromat at this hour."

"because everyone else in new york knows better than to be out on the streets right now."

"i'm busy all other times of the day."

"you could ask me to do it."

"like you would do it."

"i would if you had the balls to ask for help for once in your life."

"like you would do it right."

"okay, you know what-"

"go lay down, peter."

and sitting in the empty laundromat staring at the, now several, hoodies and sweaters that you have stolen from peter as to try and get him to stop leaving his clothes on the floor, your eyes danced along the fabric that had been tainted with stains from both him and yourself. the internal debate ran through your mind on what to do with them.

choosing kindness after several minutes, you came to your decision and threw the bunch in with your own laundry.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

walking back to your apartment was quite the struggle tonight. the clothes seemed heavier than usual and your feet dragged and tripped along each and every bump.

maybe it was because of the shift in weather. perhaps you were getting sick from the cold.

maybe it was because of the long hours at your stressful job.

maybe it was because you were just barely grasping on to one hour of sleep a night for the last week and a half.

but walking back to your apartment with the full, heavy laundry basket in your hands at two in the morning on a friday night was a decision you were certainly coming to regret.

you were glad you stopped in at the twenty-four-seven corner store and said hi to bernard, though. he even gave you a warm everything bagel.

the bagel in the paper bag atop your mountain of clothes seemed to be the only thing to stay in tact when you finally dropped the basket at the starting sound of someone's voice from behind you.

"hey!"

you grinned a little to yourself thinking of all the ways peter would say 'i told you so' to your grave if you died in this very moment.

you slowly turned around to see a man dressed to hide himself.

"hi-,"

"give me everything you have."

you stared at him, unmoving.

"now!"

"man, does it really seem like i got anything on me right now?"

the man stayed silent. he only fidgeted with his pockets. seeing how he treated the object in his pockets, you were very clear on what sat in them. you would never admit it but the thought of that - a gun - being in his pocket, terrified you.

"you want a bagel? i really was looking forward to it but-," you began to lean down and reach for the paper bag.

but your fears ran true and the man quickly stepped forward and held a gun up to you. your hands went up, the jacket that you had wrapped around you loosened and fell off your shoulders, sliding down your arms.

you could only leave your eyes closed while you tried to steady your breathing. the clicking of the metal rang in your ears.

see, living in new york all your life, you have been in quite a number of confrontations similar to this. you even took silent pride in the fact you had 'Casualed Your Way Out' of two other instances where guns were involved.

you didn't think your ego was ready to let you die to a third gun incident.

"listen man, the bagel is really good. still warm, too."

"i don't want you fucking bagel," he began to mumble back, taking steps closer. you could almost feel the chill of the metal on your chest.

eyes still closed, you heard a small whoosh and a clink from across the street. you peaked your eye open when you heard the man near you gasp and stutter.

"hey!" you couldn't really see where the voice was coming from, but you could tell it was from somewhere up. "you got a license for this thing?"

you kept your hands up (in all honesty, still too scared to move) and watched the hidden man fluster himself about over the disappearance of his gun. the hidden man hollered up curses but sticky whiteness only fell down and stuck over his feet, causing him to trip and lose his hood and his nickname.

"i'm gonna guess that's a no?" the iconic man clad in red and blue revealed himself to your sights from above. he stood in between you and the man. he looked up in fright, but didn't let that stop his foul and aggressive language.

"listen man!" spider-man shot his web at the man's mouth, closing it and shutting him up. "i know gun rights and free speech is in the constitution but we put some limits on both of those for good reasons!"

spider-man turned around to see you, standing with your hands still by your head with wide eyes.

"are you okay, sir?"

it took you a moment to process that he was talking to you.

"oh, yeah, for sure. i coulda had that. b-but, thank you."

"of course, all in a days work... um, why are you - if i can ask - why are you...doing laundry?" you watched him glance behind you at your fallen, newly dirtied clothes.

"oh- god dammit! there goes four dollars."

you hustled to scoop you laundry back into your basket.

"thank you very much, spider-man! would you like a warm everything bagel as a thanks?" you shoved the paper bag in his face but he only shook his head.

"o-oh, no thank you. i don't think you should be headed home alone, though,"

"oh i'm not headed home. i gotta go re-wash these." your nonchalant attitude and emotionless features despite the incident seemed to take the vigilante by surprise.

"sugar, you just got robbed, i don't think you should be going to re-wash your clothes now."

"sugar, i didn't get robbed you stopped them! and, i have a good deed to do! i need these clothes washed."

"let me walk with you then! you could get to know good ol' neighborhood spider-man on a personal level that most don't get." you couldn't see it, obviously, but you thought you could hear some sort of smolder. a smile pulled at your lips from that thought.

"i’m sure you have better things to do, bug boy. i appreciate it, though." you passed him and began walking back to the twenty-four hour laundromat.

"oh, actually! ding-ding, hear that? that's the sound of my shift being over. officially off the clock spider-man at your service." you listened to his footsteps trail behind yours.

"you should take the bagel then."

"i really don't need a bagel."

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

"so, what got you into the whole spider-man thing?"

"being bitten by a radioactive spider."

"how was that?"

"painful."

"yikes!"

the two of you, you and spider-man, sat together in the empty laundromat at three a.m on a saturday morning while your clothes sat in the dryer.

"do you have a day job?"

"what?"

"i mean, you don't get paid for this vigilante stuff, right?"

"no, that's kind of the reason i have that label in the first place."

"what pays spider-man's bills?"

spider-man thought for a moment. "i am involved with newspapers."

you couldn't help but laugh at his statement.

"what?"

"involved with newspapers. in a spider-man way? or, what?"

"no! it's a day job. you don't mix your night and day job, that's lethal."

"oh, for sure." you smiled down at your feet. "you know, my roommate is involved with newspapers, too,"

i know, spider-man thought to himself.

"he does photos, though. i'm sure mr. spider-man does something super bold like front page pieces."

"photos are a vital part of the newspaper!"

"yeah?"

"yeah! it's what grabs reader's attention and all that."

"...'and all that'...?"

"yeah - okay. what about you?"

"what?"

"what do you do?"

"i wash my laundry at midnight on weekends."

"that's an amazing night job. what about your day job?"

you could only hum at first, your head beginning to get dizzy and your eyes heavier than ever before. "i'm a teacher."

i know that, too, spider-man thought. "what do you teach?"

"music. high school orchestra and band teacher."

"that's gotta be a... fun job."

"it is! i love it. you sound like it's a job i shouldn't be proud of."

"no, no! teachers are important. more important than spider-man and police officers, at least."

you laughed at his odd comparisons. teachers vs police. "i enjoy my job a lot. all the kids are so bright and, you know, for some reason i always have it in my head that kids are all the same and then i go into my classroom and see just how different each individual is. and, and, it translates into how they play their music. don't you think that's crazy? two people can be playing the same piece but it sounds completely different and you can see shards of their personality in their playing. it's great, i love it."

well, i didn't know all that, spider-man thought.

"i can tell!" you felt a blush creep around your cheeks at his words. you hadn't noticed your rambling. "that's good, we need teachers who care, right?" he bumped your knee with his own.

you couldn't help but notice how absurd it felt to be talking to a man in spandex who has the powers of a spider about your passions at this early in the morning on a saturday. you wondered if it was a dream.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

"well, thank you, for waiting for my clothes with me, spider-man."

"of course,"

"have a good night now."

"oh no, i'm taking you all the way home."

"okay- that's weird."

"it's for your safety! you don't know what other robbers are out here tonight."

"respectfully, i think i'm okay."

"respectfully, i disagree!"

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

"can you at least take the bagel?"

spider-man stared at the brown bag.

"it's not warm anymore, but it's still everything else but warm!"

"you know what, i think i'll just have to take you up on that everything but warm bagel."

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

peter parker came home from his nightly endeavors, making sure to kill some time so it didn't seem like he was getting home as soon as spider-man left.

walking into his room, tired as ever, stumbling as always, he stopped when he flicked the lights on and found a pile of folded sweaters and hoodies that he hasn't seen in months on his bed.

peter made his way over, picking up the sticky note that had your lazy handwriting on it.

washed them for you, you can thank me with an everything bagel from bernard's

peter let an exhausted smile fall in his cheeks. "he really did have a good deed to do, huh?" he whispered to himself.

he picked up the hoodie, his favorite that he was well aware you had taken, and brought it to his nose. he breathed in the lavender detergent that you always used.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

"y/n!" peters voice ran through your head.

you groaned and pulled the blanket up further, not wanting to be awake this early (however early 'this early' was) on your day off.

"here, dumbass," his voice, softer this time, carried a paper bag over to flop on the bed near your feet.

your bedroom door closed and you peaked over your blanket to find the warm paper bag that would open to reveal an everything bagel from bernard's.

you smiled, hugging the warm bag.

⭒ next ⭒

[valkymnous]

Honestly if there’s any version of Peter Parker that’s gotten high at least once it’s definitely peter 3

[vampkillr]

Mixer — Peter Parker

m! reader — 728 words — any! peter but i wrote with andrew in mind — i got dragged to a party that some guy's in one of my classes was having and WHOOO.... i am loving college. wrote pretty much what happened but i left the spicy out bc idk if y'all want smth like that lol

I couldn't explain it. The look we shared. As if from across some random person's living room, everything just clicked as we saw each other. His eyes held my gaze, tilting his head as he seemingly ignored the guy he was with. I was tempted to push my way through the array of drunk strangers, but his friend seemed to guide him somewhere else the moment I took a step forward. "Did you find someone?" Gwen, who— like myself— was perfectly sober, yelled over the booming speakers.

"I need some air!" I shouted so that she could hear me, and with a thumbs up I set out to the balcony. It was cold, and the breeze only added to the chill. No one was out here but me. Or so I thought.

"Not really a people person?" I turned to the voice. It was that guy from before. "Little too cold out here to be standing by yourself," He smiled. I couldn't tell if the pins and needles on my face was from him or the weather. He walked towards me, leaning against the guardrail. I could see the way his breath left him in puffs of vapor against the crisp air. "I'm Peter."

"Y/n." I outstretched my hand and he shook it. His hands were so much warmer than mine. "I don't really want to be here, my friend made me." he laughed at my confession.

"Mine kinda did, too." He was closer to me, our arms brushing against each other and yet I didn't seem to mind. This stranger, so close to me and yet he still felt too far. "Two losers out in the cold instead of getting hammered at a party..." He started, a smile creeping onto my face. "Two awfully pathetic losers." We seemed to look at each other at the same time, yet he was the only one with the strength not to turn away. No one's ever left me so flustered from just a look. It was like he knew who I was without me having to say anything. Like it just felt right for him to be here next to me. He was so calm, so warm; something about him drew me in. I met his gaze once more as he spoke again. "Sounds like they're perfect for each other, don't you think?" We just seemed to be getting closer. like an invisible force was pulling the two of us into each other and we weren't fighting against it.

My body moved on its own, turning towards him. He guided my arms to rest on his shoulders and before I could begin to think of how incredibly wrong it was, we were kissing. It didn't feel rushed. There wasn't some goal to the kiss. Neither of us were chasing anything. We were both right where we wanted to be. If I could freeze time and relive any moment of my life, it would be this one. The way he coaxed me into him, not pushing me any further than I was okay with; just reminding me that he wanted exactly what I did... There was something to him that I couldn't bring myself to deny. I could feel his reluctance to pull away as we separated. "Oh, please let me do that again..." He whispered and I smiled.

"Maybe we can go somewhere a little bit warmer first?" His eyes were piercing through me, like he was trying to find a reason to say no but couldn't. Within moments he had my hand in his and was leading me through the crowd and down the hall into a bedroom. He let my hand slip from his, finger's lingering on mine just long enough for me to notice. Music beat gently throughout the room, muffled enough as to not be loud or very prominent. I locked the door and walked further inside. Pictures of him and other people littered the walls amongst an array of posters and drawings for some sort of bracelet. On his desk, a closed laptop, a small toolbox and a bunch of spare parts for some sort of device. He sat down on the edge of the bed and just watched me. Leaned back, resting his weight on his hands and his head tilted. There weren't any words we really needed to share for this part.

now that classes fully started im only working like 2 24 hr shifts so i have a lot more free time 😸 anyways let me know if u want a continuation lol i have a pretty bad writers block so my imagination is not very great rn

[edwardnashtiddies]

can we appreciate that we, as a fandom, received andrew garfield spiderman and immediately went “thank you i will ship him with everyone” because

[sincericida]

Emma Stone and Andrew Garfield, somewhere in the time.

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

Can you make a story where dark Peter uses a vibrator on the fem!reader till she squirts and shakes and fucks her till she's cock dumb

yaaa ya ya

THE TEASE- P.B PARKER

Pairing: Darkish! Peter x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 750

Warnings: SMUT, squirting, over stimulation, use of vibrator on reader, biting, degradation kink, darkish stalker content, choking, pet names, peter finishing inside causes he has a breeding kink

“This is your fault.” he whispered, hand tightening around your neck the vibrator buzzed against your swollen bud.

A gasp torn between a moan escaped your lips as his hot breath tickled the shell of your ear, before he gave it a little bite.

“You just had to be such a little tease, with that slutty little skirt of yours.” he growled gaze slipping down to where he held the toy, watching as your ankles dug into the sheets as you attempted to get away from the overwhelming sensations.

It was getting harder and harder to think, and you could barely focus on his words as he coaxed them in your ear.

“I was watching you today, you know. But you didn't see me- did you? No, no too focused on that little lecture hm?” he pressed, rubbing the vibrator in little circular sensations against your clit as you moaned and panted.

It was a mix between pleasure and pain- what he was giving you, and the lines seemed to be blurring over one another the longer you felt your body uncontrollably shake.

“Peter I’m sorry-” you gasped, clawing at his hand down by your cunt, but it wouldn't budge. Peter had you pinned down and spread open- just the way he wanted you.

Vulnerable and alone, for him. He deserved you. You just weren't focused enough on him to notice that.

“You are eh? Cute.”

“I am!” you protested, the whiney tone in your voice rewarded with his hand tightening around your airway. He knew just how to choke you properly, just squeezing the sides of your neck gently.

He had done his research after all, he didn’t want you passing out on him yet. He had so much to tell you.

Still, whether it was from the pressure of the stimulation, your vision began to go fuzzy around the edges. He tsked, shaking his head mockingly as he heard your breaths quicken, knowing you were getting close.

“Listen to how wet you are angel. Your cunnie gettin all messy sweets?” Peter asked gently, making your squeeze your eyes shut, as if you were bracing yourself for what was coming.

His smile turned evil, mocking, and you hated him for it. You hated how well he knew your body and how to tease you, making the rubber band in your core snap past its breaking point.

Every single time he pushed you, and every single time you broke harder than before.

“No, no please.” you begged, yet your words were useless. With a little twist of his wrist, the toy hit just the right spot, the eye contact he gave you the final push to send you over the edge.

You screamed, begging him as the orgasm washed over you. “Shh, shh just let it happen, princess. You need to stop fighting it.” he cooed, hand releasing from your neck to stroke your cheek, a stray tear lingering on the heated skin.

Wetness squirted from you, spraying over the sheets and Peter's hand as you mindlessly babbled to him, your words slurring together as your legs shook harder.

“Atta girl. Attaa girl.” he smiled, removing the toy from its place, setting it down before he pressed a hand down on your lower abdomen to steady you.

“Peter I can't– anymore-” you panted, words coming out between gasps as you attempted to catch your breath.

“You don't have to, but m’gonna use you for a bit okay? Just rest, let me use your princess parts.” he whispered, positioning himself despite your sleepy protests, hands coming up to claw around his biceps.

“Sensitive.” you moaned, body jerking as he wasting no time slipping inside of you, stretching you out around him as he threw his head back and moaned in pleasure- ignoring you.

“You're getting what you deserve. You're supposed to be used angel. But only from me.” he smiled sweetly, grip tightening on your thighs as he spread your legs further apart, watching as your own hands slipped down to palm your tits.

“You like this, don’t you, angel? Just a lil dumb baby, can't think for herself eh?” You nodded, moaning as he sank deeper, brushing up against your g-spot.

“Just not- not inside mkay?” you requested softly, head falling slack against the sheets as sleep spread through your bones. “Whatever you say angel.” he smirked smugly, knowing your request go un funfilled.

Oh well, he thought, beginning to piston into you for his own pleasure. Oh well.

[magaestheticc]

Crumbled Papers

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

warnings: oral (fem + male receiving), bondage(ifkyk), dom!peter, unprotected sex, breeding kink, basically porn with no plot. 

word count: 2172

summary: you and peter are left home alone and suddenly an idea comes to mind, a way to make your time together more.. exciting.

Peter was sitting on the edge of the desk in your bedroom with his hands placed behind his head, for a moment, he almost seemed relaxed, but you knew what his thinking face was, and from the looks of it, he was deep in thought.

A few more moments passed before he cracked an eye open in your direction, embarrassed, you looked away as a light flush of pink crept onto your cheeks. Even if the two of you were dating it was still awkward to be caught staring.

"What're you thinking about?" you questioned, his eyes had closed once more but it was obvious, he wasn't sleeping, "just some stuff." he mumbled.

Sighing, you leaned your head into your hand and ran the other over his lower thigh, "Peter." he cracked his eyes open again and looked down at you, "yes?" he questioned, you offered him a small smile before speaking, "what are you actually thinking about?"

Shrugging his shoulders, he let his hands drop from behind his head and into his lap where he gently placed one on top of the hand on his thigh. "you." he mumbled softly rubbing his thumb over the top of your fingers, he loved you, both of you knew that, and yet, every time he declared it, it always sent a rush of thrill through you. It felt good knowing that you were loved, especially by Peter.

Instead of replying, you simply smiled and laid your head down on Peter's thigh

After a few moments of lying there, you felt Peter's hand lace into your hair, and for a moment you weren't sure why, until you saw his other hand go to the zipper of jeans, a small beating occurred in your core, and you shuddered at the thought of what was to come next.

Gently moving your head from his thigh, you watched as he tugged his boxers down just the slightest before pulling his cock from its confines. Your eyes darted over it faster than you realized and suddenly Peter's hand was back in your hair gently pushing you towards the head of his cock.

"You gonna be a good girl for me?" he questioned, your lips were hovering over the head of his cock, and instead of answering you wrapped your lips around it and forced yourself down onto him. His head flew back within seconds and a breathy moan left his lips as his grip on your head tightened.

"Just like that." he groaned carefully pushing your head another inch, as he continued to push you further your eyes began to water and you held back the urge to gag, everything seemed so bright, so blinding, that for a second everything disappeared.

But that second passed and when everything finally reappeared Peter had the entirety of his cock shoved down your throat. His length was pressed flush against the inside of your throat, so much that you could feel it pulsing against the skin, it was erotic. That was the only way you could explain it.

Directing your head along his shaft for another minute, you realized that his cock was pulsing more than it had been earlier, and you knew exactly what that meant.

Before you could protest, he shoved you down to the base of his cock and threw his head back as he spilled into your throat, that was a sight he would never get over, your eyes half open, slobber dripping from your mouth, and your cheeks flushed pink.

To him, that was the perfect look for you.

He dragged you down his cock a few more times before he pulled you off of him and his hand released your hand to settle beside him. He watched with his half-lidded eyes as you wiped the slobber from your face- after swallowing his cum- and took a few deep breaths to try and calm the pounding in your chest.

"So good for me." he spoke as he trained his gaze on you, "my good girl."  you smiled up at him from your spot on the floor, the two of you took a few minutes to recover from your previous activity, when he slipped off the desk and approached you a hand was offered to you. Grateful, you took it and hoisted yourself to your feet.

Peter stared down at you before reaching a hand up to smooth down a few stray hairs, "it's your turn." he whispered, a chill floated over your spine, and without meaning to you backed up until the backs of your knees hit the bed and you laid back onto the mattress.

Thank God his aunt wasn't home.

Otherwise, things would've been extremely awkward.

Within seconds Peter's head was in between your legs, just a few inches away from your clothed core. He made sure to take his time with you, very slowly pulling your shorts down your legs and then your panties, he went so slow that for a moment you had to bite your tongue to avoid telling him to hurry up, it would only leave you frustrated and in need of release.

"You're so wet for me doll."

The name alone made you pulse with desire, you wanted him against you now, so badly, so so badly. It was all you could think about as he rubbed his index finger against the entrance of your hole, it was tight and yet he still managed to force his finger past the tightened muscles and into your warm hole.

You let out a soft sigh at the sensation and leaned your head back into the mattress as he thrust his finger into you a few times, it wasn't until he'd loosened you up a bit more that he added an additional finger, you felt so tight, so full.

When he brought his mouth to your clit it was like heaven, heaven in the form of a boy that had been bitten by a radioactive spider.  

The feeling of fullness only deepened as he continued to thrust his fingers and before you knew it you felt your orgasm getting ready to crash down onto you.

As you tightened around his fingers, Peter pulled them from your hole and watched as you let out a soft whine from the loss of fullness you'd felt, you looked up at him from where you laid and watched as he pulled himself onto the bed to lean over you, ever so careful he offered his fingers out to you and let you take them into your mouth.

After a few seconds, he pulled his fingers from your lips with a soft pop and stared down at you, "you're so pretty." he pressed a kiss to your forehead, and then, scooting himself down a little, he placed a lingering kiss on your neck.

Your eyes shut as he pressed a kiss to your temple and one of his hands slowly moved down your chest, you opened your eyes at the sensation and stared at him for a moment, you wanted nothing more than to start what you knew was coming.

With another light touch of his hand you found yourself arching up against his body, "Peter..." you groaned, gently grinding down against your exposed clit, he grinned, "yes doll?"

You let out a breathy gasp and met his gaze again, "please- please fuck me." you managed to get out, and that was all it took. It was like something in Peter had switched and within seconds he had his pants off, sitting up on the bed, you grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it up over his head before roughly pressing your lips against his.

Between the following set of kisses, Peter managed to remove your shirt, and eventually, your bra. At first, you hadn't even realized that he'd removed it, but that wasn't all that surprising, he'd always been quick with his hands.

It wasn't until you felt the hard, prominent press of Peter's cock against your clit that you let him push you back onto the bed, instead of going to grab a condom, you watched as Peter moved to hover over you, giving him a reassuring nod, you held your breath as he reached his hand down to line himself up with your entrance.

"Wait." he looked up at you, a somewhat worried expression on his face, you had no doubt that he thought he'd done something wrong or had made you uncomfortable, you smiled up at him, hoping to remove that worry from his mind, "I had a request." you began, intrigued, he raised a brow and sat up.

"Go on."

You were somewhat embarrassed, and yet, you still found the courage to get the words out, "I was wondering if you would use the web-shooters on me..."

As your voice trailed off to nothing, Peter's eyes slightly widened and for a moment you were sure he was considering running away from you, but then something on his face sparked and suddenly he was grinning like a fool.

"You sure?" he asked as he shot off the bed and towards the desk, within seconds he had one strapped onto his wrist, you smiled and offered him a small nod as he helped scoot you closer to the headboard to position your arms against the bars. He stared at your wrists for a few long, silent moments before he held out his wrist and a web shot out from the device.

A small rush of adrenaline rushed through you as he shot out a second web- securing your other hand- and checked to make sure they would hold. Still grinning like a fool, he returned the web shooter to its spot on his desk and climbed onto the bed to hover over you.

Once again, he reached his hand down and lined his cock up with your hole, he was excited, you'd never shown any interest in using the web-shooters during sex, and here you were, wanting to use them now.

In one swift motion, faster than you had thought possible, he was all the way inside of you, a strangled gasp left your lips as he remained still for a few moments, "you okay?" he whispered into your ear, you gave a small nod the heat from his breath grazing the top of your ear.

Waiting another moment or two, Peter finally pulled himself out- almost entirely- before shoving himself back in, god, he was only two strokes in and you already felt the pleasure seeping into every crevice of your body.

Gripping onto your hips, he slammed himself in harder than before and a soft groan left his lips as you tightened around his cock, "you're so tight." he managed to get out before pulling himself out and thrusting back in, this time, a groan left your lips.

"P-Peter...." you managed to get out, he thrusted into you once more, "yes princess?"

You let out a pant and arched up against him, "fuck me harder, please."

"Whatever you want princess." he mumbled, he pulled himself out, just barely still inside you, before he roughly slammed himself into you again, the sound of skin against skin was the only thing you could hear as he picked up his pace and for a moment you thought you were seeing stars, that's how good it felt.

He let out a pant as his thrusts quickened, "I'm gonna cum inside you, gonna put a baby in you, okay?" unable to form words, you simply nodded your head and let your mouth fall open as he thrusted in and out of you as hard as he could, and while it hurt, the orgasm that was about to wash over the two of you would be oh so worth it.

He was grunting now, his brows furrowed in concentration before he slammed himself all the way in one final time and hot white liquid began to fill you up, this was enough to send you over the edge and you let out a high-pitched moan as he collapsed into you.

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, your body shaking beneath his from the intensity of your own orgasm, when he finally went soft inside you, he pulled himself from atop you and pulled out. Within seconds his cum was dripping from your hole and with a smile, he was dipping his finger into it and brung it to your lips.

Once you'd taken it into your mouth and licked his finger clean, he leaned back on his arms and watched you with half-lidded eyes, "you were so good for me doll."

You smiled back at him, "it was really good, but Pete..."

He raised his brows in acknowledgment, "do you think you could get these off of me?" his eyes widened at the realization and as his cheeks turned a light red he crawled over to the headboard and began to work on freeing you from your restraints, "sorry." he chuckled.

God, you really did love him.

[aspenaspid]

I do love them. Andrew’s spider man is my all time favorite. All character are over 18 y.o

[gabriella-174]

healing - peter parker x reader

overview: dating peter parker isn’t easy and neither is patching him up after a fight.

***

now dating peter parker, it was the most amazing experience of your life. you’d never felt so loved and appreciated, but you’d never worried so much either. you constantly checked your phone seeing if he’d messaged you, you had notifications on for the news app on your phone so you knew if something was going down.

you were also extremely proud of your boyfriend, his morals the way he would always put other people first, he was like no one you’d ever met. you couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend. but all the times you’d patched him up, and seen him hurt did have a bit of an effect on you. but it was peter, he wouldn’t stop if you asked and you didn’t want him too. he was the bit of good in the world you wanted to see.

you had gone to bed hours ago having sent the goodnight i love you text to peter you fell asleep. only to be awoken to tapping, you rubbed your eyes groaning slightly as you emerged from your slumber. you sat up trying to figure out were the sound was coming from when you looked over to your window seeing the red and blue mask. peter.

you jumped up from your bed shivering as the cold air hit your bare legs, you only wearing underwear and one of peters shirts as you made your way to the window letting your probably injured boyfriend inside.

“pete what are you doing here? are you okay?” you spoke softly, peter adored your sleepy voice he thought it was adorable. he shook his head at your question climbing through the window and pulling his mask from his face. you turned putting your lamp on so you could see him properly, the light coming from the window not being enough.

when you turned back around you felt the dread immediately filling your body as you saw peters face, bruised and bloodied, you wanted to cry at the sight of it. but you knew he was safe now and he’d heal.

“oh pete what happened” you asked grabbing a first aid kit from one of your lower drawers pete couldn’t help but watch as his shirt only just covering your ass rode up as you bend to get it.

“you know superhero stuff” he smiled you shook your head as you sat on the bed next to him ripping open an alcoholic wipe to clean the cuts on his face.

“this is going to sting” you spoke as you gently began cleaning his face, his face slightly scrunched up as you cleaned one of the deeper wounds under his eyebrow.

“i missed you” you smiled at his words as you continued being peters doctor as normal.

“i missed you too baby, you staying here tonight?” you asked as his hand rested on your thigh, he nodded and you felt relieved. you didn’t want him to leave now you wanted to know he was safe, safe here in your arms.

once you’d cleaned off his face you got up chucking the first aid kit back in your draw and grabbed a pair of peters sweatpants you’d stolen and laid them on the bed for him. he thanked you standing up wincing you noticed as he did.

“you sure you’re okay?” you questioned, no one could understand how much you worried about the lanky boy infront of you.

“yes baby i’m okay, i’ll be better when we’re in bed” he smiled before kissing your forehead trying to reassure you he was okay but it never really worked. you nodded climbing back in bed as peter got changed into the pair of sweatpants you gave him. you sat up in bed as you watched him pull himself from the suit and change into the sweatpants, you noticed the bruises littered over his torso.

“you need anything? food? pain meds?” you asked as he made his way over to the bed pulling the covers away so he could slide in next to you.

“y/n stop worrying im okay i promise you. this isn’t that bad” he pulled you into his arms, you sighed at his words.

“i know but your 17 peter, what normal 17 year old gets beaten like this once every two weeks. it just worries me” you spoke looking up into his beautiful eyes, the eyes you fell in love with. peter cupped your cheeks gently rubbing the pad of his thumb across your cheek.

“i know I’m sorry, but i promised you didn’t i? i promised you i will always come home to you.” you gently pressed a soft kiss to you lips and you kissed him back before he pulled away leaving you with a smile on your face.

you both laid down getting comfortable as you laid with your head on his chest careful not to cause any pain, he had an arm wrapped round you gently rubbing your back, you’d normal have your leg over him but you were scared of hurting him.

“i’m not made of glass, you’re not gonna hurt me baby” he said grabbing your leg and putting it over his waist, it was almost like he read your mind. he was perfect, you loved him. but seeing him in pain hurt you just as much as him.