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psithurista · 4 months

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approach shift - epilogue

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 2.3k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: PIV (protected), sneaky little non-descriptive pegging reference, disGUSting fluff

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

a/n: I'll keep it quick: I'm so sorry this took so long, but I just wasn't quite ready to finish it off haha. It's been two years almost to the day since I started writing this (and they've been fucking crazy years) so it feels very strange saying goodbye to these adorable losers. I once again can't even start to express how happy it's made me seeing your reactions to this fic, and I'm endlessly grateful to everyone who took the time to leave a comment or reach out to say hi. I hope you like this last sweet little snippet! x

series masterlist

SIX MONTHS LATER

“We need to get up,” you say, making no move to do so.

He turns his face from where it’s smushed into the pillow to speak, his eyes still closed. “You first.”

You groan.

You have no idea what time it is, and your phone is out of reach, but the light through the curtains is blinding like near-noon and Bear’s supposed to be here at 10 to pick you up, so you’re almost definitely cutting it fine.

“Peter.” Your legs are tangled with his, his thigh between yours. He huffs morning breath sleepily into your face in response, reaching a hand out to pat your cheek.

“Shh.” He shifts, pressing his thigh harder between your legs, skin sticky on skin. You know he’s doing it on purpose; he knows exactly where he’s pressing you. You make a quiet, satisfied noise, then pull away regretfully.

“Bear’s gonna be here soon and you need to be dressed. She’ll freak if she has to see your ass again.”

“Mmm. Yeah. I’m up.”

You sit up, and the slow weight of his arm slides off your waist. The bedroom door is open to the living room where you can see the debris left over from your at-home date the night before: the bowl still on the couch with a handful of unpopped kernels still rattling in the bottom, the fairy lights web-stuck across the ceiling still glowing gently and the blown-out candles stuck in pastel wax puddles to the coffee table you’d rescued from the curb a few weeks after moving in together. It’d been unbearably funny watching Peter’s elaborate performance of pretending to struggle under the weight of it on the way back home.

He drags himself out of bed, and you hear the coffee machine gurgling while you start pulling out clothes.

It’s hot and stuffy; the air’s stopped working again sometime in the night, so you screech the window open and prop the broom handle under the frame to keep it there. It’s a precarious solution—more than once, the window’s fallen shut while you’ve been at work, forcing Peter to awkwardly perform a frantic outfit change behind the dumpster in the alley so he doesn’t run the risk of running into one of your neighbours in the elevator. But the rent’s affordable for a pair of research scientists with a dash of supplementary freelance photography cash on the side, and the occasional bags of free food from a grateful shop owner after a thwarted hold-up.

“Should we call about the air?” you wonder out loud through the open door.   “Don’t worry about it, it’ll be quicker if I just get up on the roof and fix it again myself,” Peter says, his voice stretching out into a yawn halfway through. He appears in the bathroom doorway, still naked, two mugs in his hands.

You gasp in appreciation as he passes one to you. “God, I love you,” you murmur, taking a sip.

He grins dazedly at you in the mirror, his cheeks flushed. “Is that all it takes, huh? A crappy cup of coffee?”

You turn and slide the mug onto the counter so you can wrap your arms around his waist. “No. You’re cute, too. That helps.”

He kisses you, his thumb and index finger framing your chin. “M’not cute,” he says against your lips, leaning his too-warm body along yours. “M’intimidating as hell. Ask anybody.”

You’d only gotten as far as underwear before he’d interrupted you dressing, and it already feels like there’s far too much in the way between you. “You’re gonna make me late,” you say, reaching down to dig your fingers into the taut swell of his ass. “Gotta get ready.”

“Okay, so keep getting ready,” he says, mouthing at your neck. “You’re the one groping me.”

He’s right; now you’ve started, you can’t seem to stop. You press your hands to the small of his back, drawing him closer. You can feel his cock beginning to harden where his body is pressed against yours, and his tongue comes out to touch at your pulse. He makes a tiny noise in his throat as you slip one hand down between your bodies to wrap loosely around his rapidly-growing erection.

You stroke him once, gently, and he huffs. “I don’t see how this is helping,” he says.

You hum your response, your resolve melting away as he strokes the back of his knuckles down your spine, making you shiver. “Maybe…” you say.

He ducks his head to kiss first one breast, then the other, your nipples standing hard and sensitive. “Maybe?” he prompts. His fingers brush your hip, coming around to rest just below your navel.

“Maybe, if we’re quick…” you say, biting your lip, pushing your hips upward to try to encourage his hand lower.

 “Babe, I can be so quick,” he says, half-groan, half-laughter. He thumbs your labia, spreading you open just a little, so he can touch your clit. “Too quick, even, if you want. Some would say it’s a talent.”

You grin at him, letting go of his cock. “Bed. Now.”

He swings you up into his arms so fast your head spins, practically flinging you onto the bed.

You sprawl out in front of him, your arms thrown back as he peels your underwear off. “Holy shit,” he says, running his hands down your sides, staring at the expanse of your body. His jaw is slack with longing, and the sight of his adoration never fails to make fresh heat flood your face, even after seeing him staring at you like this so many times.

He kneels down over you, sucking two fingers into his mouth as he does. You hitch your knees up to give him a better angle, and he gently presses a firm thigh between your legs. “How do you wanna…?”

“Condom,” you tell him, running your fingers through his hair, making his eyes roll closed with pleasure. “No mess.”

He holds your lower lip gently between his teeth, and slowly pushes his two slick fingers inside you. You shift your hips up, and he withdraws them both again, using the slip of your arousal to work against your clit. He kneels up a little, so he can palm your breast with his other hand as he bends down to lick the inside of your thighs.

“Oh,” you breathe. His fingers stop circling to push back inside you, just as his tongue works a hot, messy kiss over your clit. You grab handfuls of his hair to try to keep up with the pace he’s setting, but the feeling of your fingers against his scalp only makes him work faster, a weak groan vibrating down through his tongue.

He bends his head lower, so he can lick around where your wetness has started to gather on his knuckles as he keeps pumping leisurely, in and out. It’s so wet you can both hear it, and he works faster, angling his fingers higher, until you’re writhing.

“Peter…come on, please,” you beg, yanking hard at his hair.

It works to break his concentration, and he scrambles up, leaning down sideways so he can dig around in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. It’s filled with an assorted mix of toys and, stashed further back, Peter’s wrist canisters. The logic had been that anybody who broke into your apartment would be too freaked out by the toys to keep looking in the drawer, but it also meant Peter had to dig through a dizzying array of plugs and lube every time he went out.

You turn your head to the side and see the wistful way he glances at your strap-on, and you click your tongue. “We’re in a hurry, remember? Later.”

“Mmm. I’ll hold you to that,” he says, kissing you again as he rolls the condom smoothly over his cock.

He leans back, propping a pillow under your hips to give himself more leverage. As he sinks inside you, you hold your breath, letting it out slowly.

He groans above you, easing just a millimeter out and then back in, like he can’t help himself. It feels devastatingly good; he’s thick and beautifully hard right against where you need him, and thanks to his mouth, you’re wet enough that you’re ready for him to start moving immediately.

You hook your ankles together behind his back to pull him in deeper, and he sinks home, fully seated balls-deep inside. You clench your muscles, just to feel as much of him as you can, and he grinds his hips against yours.

You can feel the tension in his limbs as he draws back and starts to move. You’ll never, ever get sick of how he feels inside you, you think, your mouth open. He’s fucking you so good; his strokes long and firm and perfect.

He cups your ass with his hand to lift your hips even further, shifting the angle once again, and your breath stutters sharply in your throat as the head of his cock catches your g-spot.

“That’s it, right?” he murmurs, his voice wrecked. “Right there? That’s it, babe, c’mon, show me, I wanna see…”

You can’t even respond, your fingers gripping his biceps like his body is your only lifeline. It’s so good, and you’re getting so close, you just need…

“Fuck,” you gasp, high-pitched and panicked as you come, hard and blinding.

He doesn’t slow down. If anything, he fucks you harder, chasing down his own release as you clench and melt around him. It only takes a few more moments before his cock jerks inside you and he curses, collapsing the hot weight of his body on yours.

You pant together, sweaty and spent. His cheek is crushed to yours, and he turns his face just enough to kiss any part of you he can reach—the top of your shoulder, your forehead, the tip of your ear.

When you manage to drag your eyes open, you find his huge doe-brown eyes already looking at you. “Good?” he whispers, kissing your shoulder again.

You smile at him, feeling drunk and dizzy. “So good,” you tell him.

You’re still wrapped up in each other like idiots when he jolts hard as though startled. You’re confused for about half a second, before the buzzer from downstairs goes off.

“Oh, shit,” you hiss, scrambling out of bed.

“You get ready,” Peter says, somehow already dragging on a pair of sweatpants. The speed and dexterity with which he’s able to dress never ceases to amaze you. “I’ll stall.”

You’re stepping out of the fastest shower of your life when you hear the squeaky door to your apartment opening.

“Hey, Bear,” Peter’s voice says.

“Hey, Parker. Your shirt’s inside-out,” she says.

You lean the naked top half of your body around the bathroom door to wave at her. “Hey, sorry, I just got out of the shower. I need like, three minutes to get dressed.”

She clicks her tongue, but doesn’t look overly annoyed as she flops onto the couch. “It’s hot as shit in here,” she says cheerfully, swinging her feet up onto your coffee table.

You can hear her and Peter chatting as you hurriedly get ready; he asks her about Krista, she asks him about his aunt. Unsurprisingly, Bear and May had hit it off in a huge way at your birthday after May had excitedly demanded to know everything about the play Bear was auditioning for.

You give yourself a quick once-over to make sure you look presentable before you duck out into the living room. Peter and Bear have moved onto once again arguing about music; Peter’s on Blur’s side, Bear’s on Oasis’.

You give them both a sideways look. “I’m not getting involved in this,” you say, checking to make sure your keys are in your bag. “But I’m just saying, in a real fight, Liam Gallagher would kick Damon Albarn’s ass any day of the week.” Peter grins at you from behind the counter, where he’s attempting to clean the disaster left in the kitchen from dinner last night.

“Oh, my God,” Bear says, looking you up and down. “Why do you look so worked up? Were you guys just fucking? Like right now?”   Peter can’t turn away fast enough to conceal his snort, and you make a face at her. “It’s called caffeine. Come on, we’ll be late.”

Peter waves at her. “Say hi to Krista.”

“You should come with us, next time you get a night off work,” Bear says, helping herself to a stick of gum from the packet on the bench.

“Bye,” you say, leaning in to wrap your arms around Peter’s waist. “Be careful,” you add quietly, leaning up to kiss him.

He grins. “Always am.” He kisses you back, slow and gentle, before letting you go.

Bear shakes her head. “You guys are so gross. Later, Parker.”

Peter trails you to the door so he can close it behind you. Bear’s a few feet ahead of you, and you don’t mean to linger, but you can’t help but look back one last time as you go.

Peter’s leaning in the door, a dish rag over his shoulder. His hair’s chaotic from where you’d run your fingers through it, and his cheeks are still a little pink with warmth.

As you watch, his eyes crease at the corners. “Love you,” he mouths, too quiet for Bear to hear. He still has the cutlery in his hands he’d been drying before you walked out; two knives, two forks.

You can feel your face splitting into a smile you’re sure must be even goofier than his. You hold his gaze, and as Bear drags you away, you’re missing him already.

#peter parker x f!reader #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x f!reader #tasm!peter parker imagine #peter parker imagine #peter parker smut #tasm!peter parker smut #tasm fanfiction #tasm smut #peter parker x you

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 3 months

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Can I get a 7 with Steve Rogers or Peter Parker? I love the nice guys being angsty

And congrats on the 5000

.⋆｡Noise｡⋆.

Peter Parker x plus size reader

You don’t like the quiet, Peter does

Warnings: angst, noise sensitivity, college!Peter, mutual pining, hurt/comfort

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

5k Follower Celebration

Silence was your worst enemy, although you never really understood why you hated it. Whether that be the awkward silence during a lull in conversation or at 3am when the city quieted down. There had to be some kind of noise around you for you to feel at ease, usually it was music from your headphones or the chatter of other people but that wasn’t the case in Peter Parker’s room.

Somehow his room was the one place in all of New York that seemed to be above all the noise of the city. There were no sirens or voices or just random noises from the subway. Just silence.

And it was slowly driving you crazy.

At first, the sound of your fingernails tapping your keyboard soothed you. It was rhythmic and just quiet enough to not disturb your best friend as he was studying. Then you moved onto bouncing your leg, which given that you were wearing socks and the whole room was carpeted, you could make almost no noise.

You sighed and shifted in your seat, becoming antsy as the silence seemed to close in around you. You could feel Peter’s eyes flick up to you occasionally but he never said anything so you started doing the only thing you could think of to create some noise. You began to hum.

The vibrations rumbled through your chest, immediately soothing the panicked feelings around your heart. Your shoulders dropped with relief and you finally felt like you were able to concentrate on the work in front of you instead of just mindlessly typing away to appear busy.

You switched songs every 30 seconds or so, nodding your head along to the beat you were creating. Your usual smile began to pull at your lips as, unnoticed by you, Peter’s face fell and his eyebrows scrunched.

He cleared his throat but you didn’t hear. “Y/N?” You looked back at him, pausing your humming for just a second. “Do you think you could be a little quieter please?”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” You responded bashfully with a giggle. Peter breathed a sigh of relief and sat back against the wall behind his bed. He gave you a half-smile to which you winked at him before turning back to your work.

Things were quiet again save for the occasional turning of a page or alert on your phones and you started to feel that discomfort creeping in again. Like a massive weight slowly coming down onto your torso, the anxiety grew once more. Your eyes darted over your essay but you couldn’t comprehend any of the words that you had written.

Your breathing picked up as your heart pounded loudly in your ears though it did not give you the relief that other noises would have. You swallowed thickly, clamping your jaw shut tightly. Maybe a little noise would be okay, you thought as you brought a hand to your chest to where your shirt didn’t cover.

The soft tapping of your fingers against your bare skin was barely louder than your racing heartbeat but it worked. Your body eased as you picked up the pace, finally getting the relief you desperately needed. You hadn’t even noticed Peter’s frown deepening, the vein in his neck twitching with aggravation.

“How are you this fucking annoying?” Everything stopped and your veins turned to ice.

“I-I’m sorry.” You managed to squeak out around the massive lump in your throat. Even Peter looked shocked at what he said, his brown eyes wide with terror. “I think I should head home, my roommate will get worried if I’m not there after dark.”

You tried to grab your tote bag from the floor but before you could even touch the canvas handle, Peter had sprung from the bed and caught your hand. “Wait I didn’t mean-“ You shook your head and swallowed back your tears, you couldn’t talk about this now.

“I know I’m noisy okay, I’m sorry for disturbing you.” You tried to pull yourself away but his grip tightened. “Peter.” Your voice wobbled but he didn’t give you an inch.

“No, no I’m sorry. I was being an asshole.” He gently pulled you towards him and you let him wrap you up in his strong arms, needing some sort of comfort even from the person that had hurt you in the first place.

“Then why did you say that?” You murmured, slowly melting into his chest. Peter held your wide hips gently, brushing the tops of your thighs through your clothes with his thumbs.

He sighed heavily and let his forehead rest on yours, a regular gesture between the two of you that was far from platonic. “I’ve had a rough day. There was a robbery this morning and that made me late to my lab and then some asshole thought it was funny to use a dog whistle right outside. And I just- I was overstimulated and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, not when you were really trying.”

You whimpered as a tear slid down your cheek. “I’m sorry beautiful, I really am. Let me make it up to you.” His right hand came up and gently wiped it away, keeping his hand on your soft jaw as he urged you to look into his eyes.

“How?” His smile was almost unsure, seemingly a little wary of how honestly he should respond.

“Let me order some food and we can watch Percy Jackson.”

“And cuddle?”His smile grew as his eyes twinkled. He ducked forward and gently kissed the tip of your nose.

“Whatever you want, I’m at your mercy tonight.” You giggled.

“And tomorrow too, I’m still kind of hurt.” Peter just squeezed your hip.

“Anything for you.” Maybe the silence wasn’t so bad, as long as Peter was quiet with you.

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hlvstia · 9 months

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— too late :(

prompt : peter’s laptop dies while you two were doing a very important project for a class. ( from https://perchance.org/otp--prompts ) safe link! /srs

word count : 393, very short!

a/n : can be any mcu peter, but i’ll be using tom’s 🤍. also, feel free to submit me a prompt with any character! i’d love to get back in writing and fulfilling your requests. love u all!

drabble below the read more cut, enjoy loves!

as you two were doing a project for this class, it practically ended up with both of y’all arguing— only because peter wouldn’t listen to you and placed notes everywhere. they weren’t organized and it kind of ticked you off.

“no, idiot! that’s supposed to go here!” you exclaimed, pushing peter off of his seat as you took the laptop from his hands, moving the cursor to where you placed the text box to where it was supposed to be. “[y/n]!”

he scoffed, getting back up from his seat as he took his laptop back, scanning over the newly designed slides. “it looks the same as before… are you kidding me?” peter rolled his eyes, noticing how his cursor was lagging behind.

this only meant one thing.

it meant that his laptop was about to die and their slides weren’t going to backup any of the info they had worked hard on. “oh, shit!”

he began panicking, jumping off of his seat as he started to rummage through his bag, obviously worried that their process was going down the drain if he didn’t find the charger.

your face dropped into an expression as you ran to your room, going through your closet as you looked for a specific charger, throwing down some old boxes just to find the right plug.

“where is it?!” mumbling to yourself, you panicked as well, not wanting your hard work to fail only because peter forgot to charge his laptop AND turn on his backup savings.

finally, you found it! thank goodness.

“peter, i have it!” you exclaimed, having a large grin on your face as you rushed back to the area, only to see a defeated look on his face. it was too late to come to the rescue.

“no way…”

“yes way…” he sighed, shutting his laptop slowly as he placed his head down onto the cold counter. “well… you shared the slides with me, right?”

you had this burning hope that he had at least shared it with you. i mean, everyone does that when you end up in a project with your classmate, right?

peter still had a defeated look, shaking his head as he sighed out loud, even adding a groan.

it was over for you two.

“for fucks sake…” you sighed as well, throwing the charger onto the couch. “we’re totally fucked.”

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mortwig · 1 year

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Sparks Fly

Entry for the amazing’s @withahappyrefrain “Dicked Down December”. Written for the loveliest and kindest person ever born: @ouralcohol

18+ EXPLICIT [minors DNI] - Peter Parker fanfic

Words: 5,2k

Pairing: fem!reader* x Peter Parker (based on TASM!Peter but flexible)

Summary: Friends/Co-workers to Lovers, Christmas vibes

Tags: 18+ explicit, strangers to work besties to lovers, so much fluff, smut (only in the Epilogue though), nudity, vaginal sex, oral sex (both F receiving), all characters are 18+.

Song inspo: Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift

Moodboard: here

“I hadn’t realised we needed a new PE teacher?” you mentioned casually, while taking a bite of your sandwich. You and your work bestie, Kayla, were sitting under the shade of some trees, hiding from the hot late summer sun. Children were running around playing tag, sometimes even using you as cover.

Kayla looked up quickly, mild panic on her face. The principal was with a tall, dark-haired man, pointing to the different facilities from the other end of the playground. “Tan pronto?” she whispered under her breath.

You looked at her quizzingly. Kayla always wore her heart on her sleeve. She was never good at hiding emotions, and right now was no exception. She took a deep breath and, looking down at her shoes, said:

“I’ve been offered to be vice-principal in a different school… And I’ve said yes. I guess that guy must be my replacement.”

“Kayla, that is amazing! Enhorabuena!” You went to hug her, but she turned, tears welling up in her eyes.

“The job is in Florida.”

Your face dropped, and your arms did too, now hanging uselessly at your sides. The tears were also making an appearance on your face.

“I’m sorry.” She managed before the sobs overtook her.

You looked at her for a long moment before pulling her into a hug.

“I’m not. You’ve needed a change for a long time and this sounds like an amazing opportunity. I’m proud of you for taking this step. And I’ll be visiting. Often. You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

It turned out that Kayla’s replacement as a science teacher was a guy from New York called Peter Parker. Rumour had it he was running away from something, or someone, back home. But when you asked, he just gave a vague response about him “also needing a change”. You didn’t press any further. After all, we all have our demons.

He caught on pretty quickly to the bond you and Kayla had, and it was as though he could feel your pain. Every time you felt the sadness creeping in, he would pop by with a question about school protocols or class locations.

Some petty part of you wanted to dislike him. He would never replace Kayla. He was just some guy. And the truth was, he didn’t replace her. But instead, he filled a void you didn’t know you had. You and Kayla had bonded over good food, Top Gun, and fanfiction of some superhero or other. You’d cook and then be lazy together, laughing and fawning over hot fictional guys and celebrities. Peter was different, he was intent on learning Spanish and he convinced you to go on runs together so he could practice his pronunciation. After endless conversations about anything ranging from soccer to Taylor Swift lyrics, by Thanksgiving you were essentially inseparable.

“Listen up, team! This year, it’s the music department’s turn to organize the staff Christmas party.”

You saw at least four people near you stifle a disappointed groan. The music department was composed of three very extra teachers who were known for the most extravagant ideas and an obsession with glitter for some reason. You wondered if they’d magically found each other or if joining the group implied a transformation into whatever they had going on.

Diana, the oldest of the three, stepped up, hands clasped in an effort to hide her excitement.

“We have a very special evening prepared for all of you. Unfortunately, the PE department wasn’t okay with us using the gym because, I quote ‘it’s a bitch to clean up, and you’ll be too hangover to do it’. So we’ve had to move the location to the old Victorian house at the end of the road that turns out is owned by Michael’s great aunt and which has been recently renovated in an effort to rent it out to tourists next summer.”

Diana’s gossiping and oversharing was nothing new, and most of the staff were only half listening by this point.

“The theme is Christmas fairytale. You must adhere to the theme. If you do not, you will be banned from the bar area. You have been warned.”

“Oh my god.” You whispered. “They did it. They figured out how to get people to put in some effort. Threaten them with an alcohol-free Christmas party.”

Peter giggled under his breath next to you. It didn’t matter how many times you heard that stupid laugh of his, it still made your heart skip a beat. It was like hearing a song you loved as a child that you’d forgotten about. Like the gasp of excitement at the arrivals lounge of an airport on the 24th of December, when someone sees that person they’ve been missing for ages. Like the pop of a champagne cork celebrating a long-awaited pregnancy over Christmas dinner. Like the crinkle of wrapping paper around a perfectly chosen present. It was a simple sound, but it filled you with pure, soul-warming joy.

You didn’t dare look his way though, because he might notice a slight red tinge to your cheeks, a vague indication of a simmering feeling trying to find its way out of your chest, one way or another.

“Kayla, I don’t want to go…”

“You’ve said that seven times in the last hour. I’ve been counting.” Kayla had her phone up by her stove and was making something that, you assumed, smelled as delicious as it looked. Her hands were on her hips, in a proper scolding teacher pose.

“But it’s true…” You pouted, sitting back on the mattress. The numerous layers of fabric of the dress you were trying on covered most of the bed.

“What exactly is the problem? We’ve already decided that the dress is beautiful and on theme, you’ll get enough alcohol to endure Sarah’s incessant bickering, you can watch Jerry make a fool of himself on the dancefloor after four tequilas, and most importantly: you can collect intel on all the new flings that form under the glittery mistletoe that these guys have undoubtedly hung in every dark corner.”

“But it won’t be any fun without you…”

“You have a new friend now!”

“He’s no you.”

“No, he’s way hotter.” Kayla raised her eyebrows and smirked at you through the phone screen.

“Shut up.” you replied, rolling your eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“Why not though?”

“Because… I’m not looking for anything right now.”

“Come on… You’ve ‘not been looking for anything’ for years now. Isn’t it time to have some fun? Or at the very least, some drama to entertain your best friend?”

“You’re the worst. Peter and I are on track to become good friends. If I lose him over a silly infatuation, I’ll be even lonelier without either of you. Not worth it.”

“HA! I knew it! I knew you liked him.”

You instantly regretted your wording, but there was no time to discuss it further. The doorbell rang and with a quick “Gotta go, bye!” the call was over and you were clumsily slipping out of the dress.

“Coming!!” you shouted as you slipped on an oversized hoodie. Hopefully it was the delivery guy with that cute light-up Christmas jumper you’d ordered two weeks ago.

But when you opened the door, Peter was standing there, looking absolutely dashing. Because the truth was, what you told Kayla was a “silly infatuation” was in fact a full-on raging crush. And it had been going on for weeks now.

The way you thought about him switched in your brain right after Thanksgiving. You had a very bad brain day. You didn’t mean for things to escalate, and you certainly didn’t mean to cry in front of him, but all the emotions you had been bottling up exploded and all sorts of negative thoughts appeared all at once.

And he’d said nothing, because there was nothing to be said. You didn’t want to hear another “it’ll be okay” or another “it’ll pass”, and he didn’t say those words. Instead, he hugged you and held you for a minute, five, half an hour, forty-five minutes. While you just cried and cried and cried. And then when you stopped sobbing, he took your hand, took you to the nice bar down the road, bought you a smoothie and told you about the movies that he and his aunt May and uncle Ben used to watch every single Christmas.

Since then, every one of his smiles held a different meaning and every one of his light touches to your arm stung like an electrical discharge. And while you knew nothing could happen -should happen- between you, you couldn’t stop yourself from imagining a life with him, your mind racing with images of picket fences and golden retrievers and children running around the living room.

“Hello…” Peter was still standing in front of you, his eyes wide in both confusion and worry. How long had you been standing there, staring into the void, thinking about how in love you were?

“Peter!” You blurted out.

“That’s me…”

You continued to stare blankly at him, your brain refusing to cooperate as your heart raced at the sight of his unruly hair sticking out in twenty different directions.

“I’m not one to judge anyone’s fashion sense, but I have to say I’m surprised that you chose the mustard stain look to go to Taylor Swift karaoke.”

“Wasn’t that Thursday?”

“Darling, today’s Thursday…” If your brain was short-circuiting before, his use of the endearing term sent it into overdrive and you felt light-headed for a second. You recovered quickly though, you’d had enough breakdowns in front of him for what was left of the year.

“Fuck.”

Despite the facts finally falling into place in your brain, you still didn’t move. So, Peter gently placed his hands on your shoulders and moved you to the side, stepping into your hall.

“You go get changed, I’ll grab the tickets. Where can I find them?”

“Yes, right, sorry.” You shook your head, coming back to Earth. “I think they’re stuck to the fridge. Otherwise… Somewhere on the counter, I guess. I’m sure you’ll find them eventually.”

You ran upstairs to your bedroom, your ballgown still covering most of your floor space. You didn’t really have the time to curate an outfit so you took the most basic black dress and the first pair of nice shoes you could find. It hadn’t even been ten minutes and you were back by the front door, keys in hand, coat on.

“Okay, I’m ready. Sorry about that.”

“You have a very messy place.”

“Not usually, I don’t… It’s just been a messy few weeks.” Messy in your head, you meant. Because it had been a long time since your heart had been in such a fit of emotion that it neglected all responsibilities. Like the night before, when you’d ignored the pile of dirty dishes and instead opened a bottle of wine and wrote self-indulging friends-to-lovers fanfiction that was definitely not a vivid daydream of Peter and you.

“I like your wall art, by the way…” You felt him looking at you from the corner of his eye as you locked the door and headed towards your car. “Spiders, huh…?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, spiders…”

“What’s so funny about spiders?” Did he sound almost… offended?

“Nothing actually. I used to be very scared of them. I sometimes am, still. But that wall art is part of my journey of getting over my fears, and it’s also a reminder of what I’m capable of if I get my mind to it.”

You glanced his way. He looked equal parts confused and in awe.

“Sorry, that was way too deep.” You cleared your throat, suddenly a bit overwhelmed and ashamed of your oversharing. “What do you want to sing first? I say we start with a classic, something from Speak Now maybe?”

Peter was still just staring at you. He didn’t laugh though, he didn’t even look uncomfortable. He seemed just… curious. After what seemed like an eternity in your over-thinking brain, he finally spoke slowly:

“Perhaps ‘Sparks Fly’.” He didn’t take his eyes off your face, studying you, your reaction, the way your eyes widened ever so slightly before you could put on your best neutral expression.

“A bop. Sounds good.”

You tossed and turned in bed, running through the events of the evening in your mind. Aside from the rocky start, it had been generally uneventful. Or so you tried to tell yourself. Because really, was there much to pinpoint that would make it different from any other meet-up with friends? There had been his hand gently touching your waist on your way into the bar. How he twirled you on your way to get a drink because someone was singing Lover. How he’d made his way to the bartender and winked at you when he got your order right within the first guess. And a million other tiny things. But above all, more than every other little gesture of kindness and every other possible indication of flirting, there had been Sparks Fly. How he’d held your hands throughout the chorus, and how he’d stared deep into your eyes and ran your hands through your hair at the start of the bridge. You’d expected him to laugh it off, to say he was just joking. Anything, any indication that there was not something weird going on between you. But he hadn’t. And now you were left wondering if maybe it was reciprocal. If he also felt the butterflies, the tension, the tug at his heart to kiss you when he leaned in to help you open your front door that always gets a bit stuck in the evenings. He said nothing. You said nothing. And you supposed life went on, same same but different.

As usual, you’d miscalculated how much time you would need to get ready and you were running late. You still had to do hair and make-up and you were supposed to meet Peter in ten minutes. You sighed heavily as you sat down in front of your mirror, phone in hand.

> Running late

> I’ll meet you there

> You sure?

> I don’t mind waiting

> Yeah sure

> You’ll just stress me out

> I would never

You giggled at the glassy-eyed cat sticker on your screen.

You hated – hated – getting to events alone. It was so awkward. Even if you knew everyone there, and you got along well with most of them. That feeling of having to find a conversation to engage in, those first few minutes. They were awful.

The hall was empty when you arrived so you sneaked a selfie in the huge vintage mirror that decorated one of the walls. You sent it to Kayla. After all, the outfit had been chosen with her. You were wearing a huge puffy white and ice-blue dress that shimmered magically under the light. A delicate mistletoe wreath on your head and some angel wings completed the look. “A Christmas angel-fairy”, Kayla called it.

You followed the noise to what must have been the dining room, but which had been turned into a ballroom. You gasped at how magical it looked. The renovated ceiling had been decorated with thousands of tiny lights that gave the room a warm glow and made everything look ethereal. The heavy red velvet courtains were drawn, and two fireplaces were lit. Christmas trees stood in every corner, decorated with classic red ornaments and gold tinsel. A bar had been set up at the end of the room, by a band that was playing a cover of Ayo Technology. They had several big bowls full of smoking drinks, and a guy dressed as an elf was mixing drinks for a very happy-looking admin team.

You looked around for Peter, in hopes of going straight to talk to him instead of having to engage in small talk with colleagues you weren’t nearly drunk enough to deal with. It might have worked, had he not been standing at the opposite end of the room. He was wearing black suit and trousers, a flowery midnight blue vest and a beautiful matching cape that brushed the floor with his every move. And… was that an eye patch? What even was that costume?

It took you close to half an hour to make your way to him, which included, amongst others: four compliments on your dress, one joke about the mistletoe on your head by Olivia from admin, and several questions about how Kayla was doing in Florida.

“What is that supposed to be? Santa’s ocean affairs delegate, pirate Parker?”

Peter scoffed, and even before he turned, he already shot back:

“Excuse you, you uncultured ignorant. I’m uncle Drosselmeyer from the Nutcracker. And this cape took a week to make, so be nice.”

Your eyebrows shot up. He’d never mentioned an interest in ballet, let alone in sewing.

When he finally took a look at you, he let out a low whistle. “Damn, you look stunning.” He took your hand and twirled you slowly, admiring the outfit from all angles. “I didn’t know you vibed with long gowns and angelical accessories.” His cheeks were slightly redder than usual, and you couldn’t tell if he’d already had a couple of drinks or if he was somewhat flustered.

“It seems we still have a lot of things to learn about each other.” You muttered under your breath.

You really thought you’d said it quietly. The room was loud enough that you had to speak up to hear and be heard. Yet Peter leaned in closer, your cheeks almost touching, and whispered just loud enough that you almost weren’t sure if it had been your imagination:

“I can’t wait.”

You took a step back in surprise, but he’d already turned to one of the arts and crafts teachers to compliment her elaborate hairdo with little golden bells sticking out of it. People really went all out when alcohol was on the line. You were no exception. You headed right to the bar.

You danced, you talked, you drank, you laughed. You even cried once in the bathroom after you saw Kayla’s supportive messages in response to your picture from earlier.

It was almost midnight and you were positively drunk. The kind of happy drunk that gives you just a little too much confidence and a lot of courage. So when the band’s guitar player started playing the first few notes of Love Story, you ran to Peter so you could sing it together at the top of your lungs.

His eyepatch long gone and his hair messier than ever, you could tell he was also drunk. His casual touches were becoming more frequent. His eyes lingered in yours for longer. His smile was cheekier. His whispers more intimate. And, in your inebriation, you felt that spark between you stronger than ever. As if you could almost see it if you focused on the narrowing space between you.

It still came as a surprise when the band got to the outro and he put both his hands on your waist and pulled you close.

“Let’s go outside for a minute.”

He must have been exploring the house earlier because, instead of taking you out through the front door, he led you upstairs through the beautiful staircase in the hall, his hand firmly around yours. You looked around dreamily, your eyes hazy. Whatever the music department had done with the party, you had to give them that it truly felt like a Christmas fairytale. Through a few doors, you were out on a balcony, overlooking the backyard of the house which was also decorated and lit with a range of Christmas decorations.

You stood there, looking out at the beautiful scenery around you. For a minute, you forgot you were there with Peter, you were just drunk and happy and content.

But then Peter let go of your hand. And, as if he was the anchor keeping you from slipping out of your daydream, you looked back at him, concern drawn on your features. Your heart started beating, it felt loud enough that if Peter started talking, you weren’t sure you’d hear him.

“Y/N…”

He searched your face for something, but you were too scared to say anything.

“Listen, I’ll probably regret this when I wake up sober and hungover tomorrow morning…” His voice trailed off, and he cleared his throat, maybe trying to gather enough courage to carry on. “I… I think I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes widened, your mouth agape in shock. You couldn’t form a single word, let alone a full sentence. Seeing how you had been left speechless, Peter continued, trying to fix whatever might have been broken with those few words.

“But I promise I won’t let it affect our friendship. I have a lot of fun with you, I don’t want to lose the best friend I’ve made in years.”

You continued to stare at him, your mind racing but your tongue tied. Ten seconds passed, twenty, maybe thirty, and you said nothing. It must have looked terrible from his perspective. But you couldn’t work out what to say, you were frozen in place.

“I’m so sorry.” He turned and walked back inside, while your hand covered your mouth and you tried to work out what to do. Would you risk the friendship you felt in your bones could be one of the most important ones in your life? Would you risk the awkwardness at work if it didn’t work out? Would you, for a relationship life you always claimed you didn’t want? You already knew what your heart would respond to all those questions: yes, yes, yes. You searched your reason, your cold, calculating brain, for a different answer. But again: yes, yes, yes. How could you not?

Your heels were comfortable but it was still a struggle to run with the voluminous dress.

“Peter wait!” You yelled when you got to the top of the staircase. He was almost downstairs, his cape flowing behind him with every step he took. “I’m sorry!”

He looked back, caution written all over his face.

“I’m sorry.” You repeated as you rushed down. “I don’t want to lose you either, but…” panic replaced every emotion that was rushing through your veins, as you felt one of the silky underlayers of the dress get caught under your toes. In slow motion, you realized Peter was too far down to catch you, but at least you wouldn’t take him down with you. Your wreath went flying off your head as you braced yourself for impact. But the crash against the cold steps never came, only two warm arms holding you firmly.

“But what?”

You looked around in shock, trying to work out how he’d made it up half the staircase in less than a second. “How…?”

“But what?” he insisted, interrupting you. You looked back at him.

“But I’ll risk it all.” You inhaled deeply. “Because I think I’m in love with you too.”

Peter’s relief was obvious, from the way his body relaxed noticeably, and from the smile he flashed at you. He helped you upright so you could gather yourself. You were checking the damage to your dress, partly hiding from the sudden elephant in the room, partly to make sure you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself again.

Once it was obvious you were stalling, Peter cleared his throat. When you looked up, he had an eyebrow raised, and gently nodded up. Hanging about a feet over your heads was your mistletoe wreath. It seemed to be floating mid air but upon closer inspection you realized it was dangling from what seemed to be a spider web.

“How…?” again, it was all you could think to say. But this time, Peter wasn’t so patient. He wrapped his arms around your waist, and pulled you in for a kiss.

EPILOGUE

There hadn’t been much time, Peter left to spend Christmas with his Aunt May in New York. You would also be visiting family.

As for New Year’s… Let’s just say things had worked out nicely and Peter was now running his hands through your hair and kissing your neck and up towards the back of your ear. And oh if he didn’t stop whispering sweet nothings against your skin, you were certain you would melt into goo and dissolve right there on the sofa.

“You are absolutely stunning.”

“Mmh…” You hadn’t been able to form a coherent sentence in the last ten minutes. You just hummed and whimpered while your body reacted to what you could have sworn was electricity passing to and from between the two of you.

Peter reached further down, caressing your back and waist tentatively. He was taking his sweet time and, as much as adored it, you felt a need building up in your core that needed to be met, and it needed to be met soon.

“Let’s move to the bed.” As much of a people pleaser as you usually were, the suggestion came out as a demand, firm and confident. In return, Peter didn’t hesitate, he simply looked into your eyes and picked you up bridal style.

You were impressed by how easily he carried you up the stairs, reminding you that you still hadn’t worked out how he’d managed the sprint up the stairs at the party. But that was a conversation for another moment because Peter was putting you down on the bed and seeking confirmation in your eye as his fingers trailed circles on your thighs. You nodded and he proceeded to run his hands up under your skirt, pulling down the hem of your tights. His hands ran back up your legs to pull your panties to the side. His fingers ran up and down the inside of your thighs as his lips met your clit, giving it a soft kiss before licking up and down and getting to work.

You lost track of time, and you were pretty sure you ascended to an alternate reality at some point, and were only brought back by the tightening coil in your abdomen. Peter switched perfectly between licking, sucking, kneading your thighs and humming against you in satisfaction. It was as if he could hear your heartbeat accelerate and relax with every wave of pleasure, giving him privileged information as to how to act at every precise moment.

But it was only after he put in his index finger inside you that you felt the orgasm incoming.

“Oh, fuck, Peter.”

You felt him smile cheekily against your clit, and you wanted to smack his head. You probably would have if he hadn’t been in charge of your pleasure at the time.

A second finger quickly followed, hitting your G spot at just the right time while your clit remained at his tongue’s mercy.

“Peter!” you whimpered, your right hand gripping his messy hair, while your left hand held onto the sheets for dear life. Your moans filled the room as you rode your high, his fingers maintaining a constant speed throughout your orgasm.

You were panting, still trying to catch your breath, as Peter undid his shirt buttons and helped you out of your dress.

“I cannot stress this enough; you are gorgeous.”

You peeked through your half-closed eyelids only to find him standing there, admiring your body.

“Beautiful enough to make love to?” Peter’s eyes went dark with desire at the question and you smirked at him.

The remaining clothes that still clung to your bodies were quickly removed and discarded. Peter kneeled between your legs, his hands combing his hair back. He was hard and leaking precum already. The awareness of him being this aroused just from making out with you and eating you out hit you like a train and you spread your legs wider for him.

“Ready?” he asked.

“So ready.” You winked at him and his cheeks turned just a tiny bit redder.

He didn’t rush it, he took his time, letting you adjust to his size. He only started pumping once you nodded at him. Slow, long strokes had you whimpering and squirming as you hid your head in the pillow, self-conscious of all the noises you were making.

“Hey, look at me. Those sounds you’re making are the hottest thing I’ve ever heard but I want to see you too.”

You were flustered, it was as if he could read your mind. But you made an effort and kept looking at him. And oh, was it worth it. He sped up his pace and lowered himself down to his elbows, close enough to kiss you and for you to grab his hair again. God, he had such amazing hair. He was panting, he seemed to be struggling.

“Tired, Parker?” You giggled in his ear.

“No, not at all. I’m just trying very hard not to cum because it would be embarrassing to last literally five minutes and also I want to make you cum at least once more.”

You were taken aback by this display of honesty. You had to admit you’d never been with any straight guy who felt so comfortable admitting stuff like that.

“I can help with that.”

You pushed him back a little, just enough that you could reach into your nightstand drawer and squirt some lube onto your hand.

Peter wasn’t moving, just looking at you in fascination. You reached between your bodies and circled your clit just like you did when you were alone. When your first moan hit his ears, Peter was brought back to Earth and he started pumping into you again. Tentatively at first, but deeper and faster as he gauged your positive reactions.

“I’m so close”, is what you said, but it took you so much effort to string the sentence together that when it came out, you were actually extremely close. So close that the next thrust from Peter’s hips sent you into orbit and you could do nothing but clench around him and hold his arms as if they were your anchors. You were just riding the last few waves of pleasure when you felt his consistent rhythm failing and his face contort. He soon crashed on top of you, both of you panting, completely blissed out.

A sound coming from the outside caught your attention before you could fully relax into each other. You frowned.

“Are those fireworks?” Peter asked. You turned towards your window and, sure enough, you could see colourful lights through the thin courtains.

“It looks like it.” You responded.

“I would have sworn it was 10 pm just ten minutes ago.” He sounded positively confused. You couldn’t help but laugh, one of those laughs that come from the belly, that makes you feel like a child again. And it must have been contagious because Peter started shaking on top of you, laughing quietly into the pillow next to you.

“Happy New Year, Peter.”

“Happy New Year, darling.”

Shout-out to @p3mybeloved for her cameo as Y/N’s best friend ❤️

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker smut #tasm!peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker fluff #peter parker fluff #tasm!peter parker x y/n #peter parker imagine #peter parker x f!reader #dicked down december

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wxckedwxrld · 6 months

Text

𝘗𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘐𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴

* - smut • - fluff ^ - angst

☞︎ too *

☞︎ 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜 •

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the-winter-spider · 2 years

Text

Love You More | Pt.9

TASM!Peter x Reader, Bucky x Reader (past)

word count: 2.4k

A/N: I hate action, i such a writing it so i jumped over most of this fight scene, and i definitely wasn’t gonna follow it to a T either, sooo just pretend it was longer 🤣 and everyone was doing more ahahah im excited for the next part!

Also adding i know i didnt really touch base on the readers powers/abilities but what im thinking is she orginally thought along with everyone else that she could only control the elements, then she started to realize she could do A LOT more like astral projection, ect pretty much her full “unlocking” is she can control all matter/atoms which is pretty much means everything and anything, so she powerful af, ill explain it better later!

Not edited or proof read

I rushed this one

Masterlist(coming soon) | Masterpost

“Are you guys almost done?” You shouted

“Yeah just placing the last one”

“Cool cool” You say as you lean over the scaffolding, your Peter jumps down, perching up top. As the other two land beside you. You turned to face Peter, your universe's Peter “Y’know I dont think Steve would’ve liked this” You smiled gesturing to the construction of the shield at the statue of liberty.

“It really is a big honour” Peter smiled

The eldest Peter chipped it “This guy must of been really something for them to do all this for”

You missed Steve more than you allowed yourself to and you hated yourself for not saying goodbye but you could never bring yourself to. How could you look at Steve and tell him you were happy for him when you were jealous he got to grow old with the person he loved, he got to live out the timeline you were all supposed to. You were so pathetic you couldn’t mask that jealousy for a 30 minute visit. But at the same time you liked having your last memory of Steve be the Steve you knew, because that Steve that came back was no longer your Stevie.

You smiled sadly “He really was”

“You all are honestly” Peter 3 smiled, placing a hand on your shoulder giving it a reassuring squeeze “Honesty ever since i got here, all i keep seeing and hearing about are all these amazing heroes, i just wish my universe had more of them”

“They have you that's all they need Parker” You gave him a soft smile, as he squatted down, his brown eyes filling up your irises with nothing but adoration “And you are pretty amazing”

“Yeah, why are you so hard on yourself? You're amazing, you're the amazing spider man!” Peter 2 exclaimed

He shrugged “It's just you guys all fight such cool villains and i just have a lizard. I wonder if my universe as aliens”

“Probably does, they all have to” Peter 1 said “I just dont think they’re provoked”

“What do you mean?”

“Like theres so many superheroes here, its cool and all but Mr.Stark once told me it shows life outside of Earth that were ready for a fight, so since its just —“ He paused taking out his phone “Its an unknown number” He brought his phone to his ear “Um hello?”

“Think one of the villains got a phone?” Peter 3 smiled at you

“It's a necessity nowadays i wouldn't doubt it”

“Yeah she's here” Your universes Peter looked at you, clearing his throat “It's for you”

You furrowed your eyebrows, you hesitantly took a step forward “Who is it?”

He gave you a sympathetic look, handing you the phone “Sergeant Barnes”

You could feel all the colour drain from your face “Oh”

“I can tell him your busy” he was reaching for the phone back

"He can hear you Pete" You didnt realize you were backing up till you bumped into a warm but firm surface “Woah, you okay?” Peter 3 hands steadied you.

Looking into brown eyes that stared back at you with nothing but concern it made your heart flutter, you nodded. Turning back to face the youngest Peter “Ill be right back”

You started to walk further down the catwalk and you heard the eldest Peter mumble “Who’s sergeant Barnes?”

Before you were far enough they wouldn’t be able to hear you but you could still hear them and any sign that the villains arrived.

You were pacing, trying to breath evenly because when you got overwhelmed and your emotions were over the top you could cause some disturbances so you were trying your best to remember the breathing techniques Tony taught you, you pinched the bridge of your nose

“Hello?”

“Y/n” you could hear relief in his voice “What's going on?”

“Nothing”

He was agitated and you could hear it in voice “Dont lie to me, we saw you on tv with the Spider kid, and now i'm hearing about there being bad guys? Are you hurt?”

“Im fine Bucky, we have everything under control” You gritted your teeth, you always hated when he’s treat you like a wounded child

He scoffed “What, you and that kid? And you're bringing the fight to the statue of liberty, are you serious?”

“It's not just me and Peter, we have other help” You were trying your best to stay calm, and save your energy for the real fight

He paused sighing, deciding to get to the point “I know y/n”

“Know what?”

“About the night of Steve’s funeral”

Your mouth was dry, it all of a sudden felt like you were swallowing cotton “Which funeral?”

“Doll” he pleaded with you because he didn’t want to say it.

“Don’t” you were shaking your head.

“Why didn't you tell me? I would of —“

You cut him off “You would have what Bucky? Stayed with me because you were afraid I'd do it again? Like you said, we're not the same people anymore!”

“I still love you, ill always love you y/n, i just wanted time to figure out who i was, i just needed…”

“What about what I needed!” You screamed cutting him off “What about me? I lost Steve to, i lost time to, i needed you Bucky”

“I'm right here doll, i've always been here, you could of called me whenever and you know i would have came running”

“I don't need you anymore Bucky, i've found what i need what i want and for once i'm going to put me first”

You could hear his heavy breathing through the phone and you're sure his brow was furrowed “What are you saying y/n? I can't live without you”

“You’ve been doing fine the last 6 months”

“How do you know that? You weren’t there!”

“You left me Buck, remember? you were right to”

“I was right?”

You could feel static in the air, they were close - “We're just not who we were anymore and that's okay because change is good, it's scary but its good”

“You can't just throw all that history away y/n — it was supposed to be you and i, forever” He whispered

“Buck, we both know so well that forever doesn’t last” you whispered through dried lips, finally defeated “Steve and you will always be the biggest and best part of me, but …”. You paused, turning to look at the three Spidermen in their suits.

Your Peter was perched up, while the eldest was standing, and the Peter you were gonna risk this all for was leaning against the railing his masks in his hand while he was listening intently to the other two, he was smiling from ear to ear, the corner of his eyes crinkled.

Almost like he could feel you staring at him and he turned to you, he gave you the most beautiful smile you ever seen before giving you a small wave which you returned. “I'm thinking about the future now. You’ll always have a part a me, i'll always love you ” You peeled you eyeline away from the Peter’s turning to look over the edge “I'm not sure if I can ever love anyone the way i love you but i wanna try Bucky, but i can't do that here” you paused “not when every corner i turn im reminded of everything, everyone i lost”

“What do you mean here? Y/n what's going on what are you gonna do?” Panic was lacing his voice, he knew you had very powerful abilities and he also knew he didn't know what you could do with them, the full extent at least because you were still learning about them when he was in the safe house before Wakanda, but all he did know is he didn't like the sound of it, whatever it was.

“James, i'm gonna be okay, everything is gonna be okay”

“Y/n, answer me”

“I love you” You clicked the phone shut

You walked back over to the boys “Thanks Pete” you smiled, tossing his phone back up to him

“You okay?”

“Yeah i am” You smiled, this time he could see a twinkle in your eyes “We ready to cure some ass?”

You received a series of nods “Good because there here”

“How do you —“ Peter 1 perched up “You guys feel that?”

“Yeah” the eldest Peter nodded, “How did you know before us?”

“Im one with everything, and all that hippy stuff”

You shrugged it off before activating your suit, it went from inky black from your toes to your neck, the nanobots changed to a colourless white, as your eyes changed with it. The sky started to crackle, lightning flashing throughout the sky.

“Y/n?” You Peter questioned

“Not me”

All three men put their masks on, everyone fully alert before a man appeared “Sup Pete? You like the new new?” He held his arms out as electricity shot out of him.

“Oh well, that's pretty cool” You said to no one in particular

“Who’s this?” Electro turned his attention to you “Look i don't wanna hurt a lady, just give me the box and everything will be fine”

“I wouldnt be to worried about hurting y/n” Your Peter said “She's pretty bad ass”

“Is that a challenge?” Electro said with a smirt

“Nope, no, no Max, its definitely not a challenge” Peter 3 said getting ready to stand in front of you

He sent a shock of electricity your way just has Peter 3 was ready to jump in front of you, you caught the electricity with ease, holding it in your hand there was a glowing line between the two of you. The static could be felt in the air, your eyes started to glow more as you rose yourself off the ground.

“Oh shit”

“Y’know, that thing on your chest, was created and designed by a very, very dear friend of mine and i'm not gonna lie, he wouldn’t like this, you being on the wrong side of the fight and all, so i'm gonna have to do something about it”

You put both your hands out using his own electricity to fuel you, you used all the energy you had to hold him into place “Any day now Parker!”

You watched Peter 3 look flustered before he nodded “Yeah yeah of course, on it!” He shouted before getting the arc reactor off and placing the cure on Electro, once it was on you carefully placed him somewhere in the scaffolding and you water Peter 3 run to make sure he was okay.

You dropped yourself down, running to find the youngest Peter, you pasted Peter 2 curing the sand castle guy right before you bumped into a hard figure, you stumbled back a bit.

“Y/n?”

“Strange”

“You’re alive”

“You thought i wasnt?”

“I stopped hearing from you, logically i assumed the worst” He paused “Please tell me you’re not helping the kid?”

“We’re curing them, its working if that's what your asking”

“Your eyes are glowing” He ignored your comment

“Its a new thing, it only just started happening i guess” You shrugged

He nodded “You’re unlocking it”

You furrowed your brows “Unlocking what?"

“Everything, your full potential” He stared at you for a moment, almost like he was reading your every thought “tread lightly y/n” he warned before he opened another portal walking through it.

You followed him knowing exactly who he was going to “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means —“

“Pete watch out!” You screamed at the top of your lungs just as you watched the Lizard tackle Peter down, sticking his claws in his abdomen.

Strange uses a Eldritch Whip to hold the lizard down as the other two Spider Man went to cure what onces was Doctor Connors.

You shakily went over to your Peter, falling to your knees, he was coated in blood this was definitely a wound his fast healing wouldn't help on “Oh Pete” tears were rolling down your cheeks, guilt taking over every atom in you, you placed your hand over his wound putting pressure on it “I’m so sorry”

His eyes were glossy, he place his hand over yours “Don't you care apologize y/n, this isn’t your fault i know what your -“

You shook your head “I'm gonna fix this”

“This is too much y/n, it’ll take you out if not worse”

You had tunnel vision for the only Peter in front of you, you didn't feel the hand on your shoulder “It’s gonna be okay Pete”

He gave you a weak smile “It is, i'm gonna see May and Ben, and Mr.Stark he’ll probably kick my, y'know but its - what are you doing?!”

Your eyes were glowing, as you started to focus on all the matter surrounding his wound focusing everything you had left in you on him.

“Get her off of me, it too much, this could kill her!” You heard him shout to Peter 3.

Feeling that similar sensation of his hand on your shoulder, you stuck your left hand out, mumbling a weak “Sorry” and blasting him back, creating an almost forcefield-like bubble around the two of you, blocking out any outside voices and anyone who tried to interfere, you could vaguely see Strange using everything he had to break through.

“Y/n please stop”

You had two wounds down and one more to go, you could feel yourself fading but feeling Peter getting stronger. Before you knew it you weren’t strong enough and the bubble around you was flickering, you opened your eyes and was satisfied with Peter’s vitals being stronger than yours before anyone had the chance to say anything a chilling voice boomed through the sky.

“Can the Spider-Man come out to play?!”

Peter shoved you out of the way before the goblin started hurtling pumpkin bomb after pumkin bomb, swooping down and steal the box from Strange. Your vision was pulsating, between reality, darkness and the people were trying to come through. You looked up at Strange “There coming” you mumbled

Using his Eldritch Whips to steal the box back as Doc Ock held his board back, he looked back down at you “Who?!” He yelled through the chaos

You weakly pointed up at the sky.

“Strange no!” Peter shouted before an explosion went off and you used the last of your energy to guide the blast upwards and away from everyone you had left.

Before you knew it, you heard someone screaming your name as you tumbled off the collapsing scaffolding, letting darkness consume you.

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cannibalizedyke · 2 years

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hi there! congratulations on 700!!! i love your writing so much! i was wondering if i could get a 🕊 with tasm!peter parker?

i use she/her pronouns. i’m a capricorn sun, libra moon, and leo rising. my personality type is INFJ-T (not sure exactly what that means, but it seems important).

i’m currently a junior in college studying psychology and criminal justice. after i graduate with my undergraduate degree i would like to get my master’s degree in mental health counseling.

i suffer from generalized anxiety disorder as well as major depressive disorder. my mental health is pretty stable right now but i have struggled a lot in the past. i’m a little over 4 years clean from self harm and am very open about it because i want to help people that are going through the same thing i went through.

i am very much a people pleaser, and i think a lot of that stems from being the oldest child in my family and being the only daughter :). i’m a very independent person and struggle with talking to new people and making friends.

music is a big part of my life as well. i love listening to it, writing songs, and karaoke in the car! writing poetry and reading are my favorite things to do other than listening to music. i also have an obsession with pinterest and love creating moodboards!

i hope this is the right amount of information. again, congratulations on 700 lovely. you deserve the world and more <3

thank you so much lovely! you deserve the world and more 🤍🦢

🕊 - send me a character and as much information about yourself as you’d like and i’ll write a blurb about what i think your relationship with that character would be like!

"Hey, Peter?" You stood bashfully at the door to his room, guitar in hand.

Your boyfriend looked up from where he was working on his web shooters and smiled. "Hey, dove. What's up?"

You bit your lip, a bit nervous. "I, um, I wrote you a song."

Peter's eyes widened. "You wrote me a song?"

You nodded shyly. "Yeah, I- I was just testing out some lyrics and it- it just happened."

Peter left his work desk and walked over to you. "Are you gonna play it for me?"

You fiddled with your guitar. "If you want me to."

"Of course I want you to." Peter grabbed your hand and rubbed his thumb over yours comfortingly. "I wanna hear any song my beautiful girl writes."

You blushed with a small smile and sat down, positioning your instrument just right. You took a deep breath and played the first chord.

"I've always wanted adventure "To face the great unknown "Explore things both evil and pure "I thought I'd have to do it alone

"But you walked in and you showed me "All I'd been yearning to see "You held me and finally I felt free "You kissed me, I tasted honey

"Oh, honey, you set me free "You grabbed my hand and then I could see "Oh, honey, you set me free "I don't have to do this alone"

The song went another verse and a second chorus, and when you looked up at Peter again he was staring at you in pure adoration.

"I love you," he said, looking like he was about to cry.

You giggled nervously. "I love you too. So did you like it?"

Peter rolled his eyes and pulled you into his arms. "Of course I liked it. It was the best thing I've ever heard."

You smiled shyly. "Thank you."

"Thank you." He kissed your head. "For writing such a beautiful song for me. I truly will never deserve you."

Then it was your turn to roll your eyes. "Oh, stop it. We deserve each other perfectly enough."

Peter smiled and kissed you softly. "If you say so."

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raerae-bb · 10 months

Text

Just something I think people that write for ATSV should watch

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lovelettersforthedamned · 3 months

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ugh I love the way you write frat Peter <3333 am thinking of how he would react when his frat brothers flirt with his girl jus to rile him up - ❄️❄️

A Little Reminder

--genre: fluff, slight smut, MINORS DNI.

--pairing: frat!tasm!peter parker x f!reader

--word count: 1.4k

--warnings: language, kisses, slight smut, mention of hickeys, fluff!!!

love this request! i have something similar (more angsty) if you want more, "Let Me Be There, Let Me Be Yours".

You were drained, to say the least. Your last lecture wiped you out, followed by a tutoring session to bring up your plummeting English Literature grade. Peter’s the one to blame for that one. Sure, you scheduled an early morning class knowing that it would be hard to get there, but Peter keeping you hostage in bed also didn’t help.

As you walk back to your apartment, you’re mentally cursing him knowing that you’ll realistically not do anything about it. With your headphones blocking out the world around you, your only goal was to get home and to Peter. Your bed calls out for you.

Switching songs, an arm is suddenly wrapped around your shoulders, making you jump out of your skin. Pulling off one side of your headphones, you look towards the person whose arm is around you, finding one of Peter’s frat brothers grinning widely at you. You barely have time to deal with whatever is going on, but still decide to play along not to seem rude, “Bryce, what the fuck is going on?”

“Oh nothing,” he replied nonchalantly, his arm still on your shoulders, “ just walking you home, that’s all.” His tone still holds one of a joke, but now that you’re approaching your apartment he still doesn’t give up.

You can’t help but laugh and scoff, you wonder how long he’ll keep this up. Ducking out of his hold, you stand in front of him, “I didn’t ask you to do that, but thank you so much for your generosity, Bryce. Your heart must be so so big!” You bring a hand up to his shoulder and pat it a few times, “I’ll make sure to tell Pete about this. Just to let him know how caring you are.”

“You do that, (Y/N)! I cannot wait to hear back from him,” his smile is wide still, but sarcasm drips off of his tongue.

You start to walk up the stairs to your building, waving Bryce goodbye as you giggle to yourself. He’s going to get an earful the next time he sees Peter.

****

“Hi, Pete! I’m home,” you call out as you close and lock the door behind you. It doesn’t take long before you hear heavy footsteps approach you from the bedroom, Peter’s disheveled state greeting you. He’s shirtless, his boxers the only thing on his body, but you’re not complaining. Peter’s even wearing his glasses, which is a rarity recently. You’ve noticed he only wears them around you.

As he approaches you, he takes your school bag and your headphones, placing them on the couch before he envelopes you in a bone-crushing hug. You breathe in his scent, the natural musk combined with his body wash makes you melt. Your ear is placed directly on his heart, the rhythmic beat acting as a lullaby. You look up at him again, craving to see him in his glasses again to see that he’s already looking at you. You stand on your toes to reach his lips, catching him off guard in a kiss that he quickly gets accustomed to. His lips are slightly chapped.

Pulling away he sighs, giving your lips one more quick peck, “How was class, bug?” Brushing a piece of hair that fell into your eyes away, he holds the side of your face.

“It was long and boring,” you close your eyes, the mere thought of it reeling in another wave of exhaustion, “but guess who I ran into on the way home?” You pull away from his hold to walk over to the kitchen, Peter following loosely behind you. There are a few beats of silence as he goes through the list of who it could be, but he soon gives up with a sigh. “Bryce fucking Quinn,” you reveal.

He leans against the cabinet as you reach into the fridge for a bottle of water, his eyes widening, “I haven’t seen him in a while. How is he?”

“He’s good,” you open the cap and take a sip, before dropping the bomb on him, “he’s very nice.”

This sparks Peter’s interest, his head cocking to the side as his brows furrowed in confusion, “Oh really?” Your impression of him shocks him. He knows Bryce Quinn to be a jokester, he’s never taken anything seriously, and if he did, it was always because it was part of a running bit that he carried.

You smirk as you take another sip, trying not to reveal how amused you are, “Yeah, he even walked me home! He even threw his arm over me to make sure I got here safe.” You leave Peter to go into the bathroom, the sudden urge to pee coming over you.

Peter’s once relaxed demeanor was now one of rigid shock, he once again followed you. “What do you mean ‘threw his arm over you’?” You’re sitting on the toilet when Peter opens the door and stands directly in front of you, looking for answers.

“You need me to answer that right now?”

“Well,” he doesn’t see anything wrong with asking right now, “when else am I gonna ask you?” He’s dead serious too.

Reaching for the toilet paper, you gather a few pieces, “Maybe when I’m not actively on the toilet?”

He finally comes to his senses as he turns around, facing the wall, and leaving you to do your business. “It’s not like I haven’t seen every part of you before,” he adds, before turning back around when he hears the toilet flush and the sink run as you wash your hands.

Washing your hands, you look into the mirror only to see Peter behind you, giving you a scare. “If you’re really worried about this babe, you know you shouldn’t,” you dry your hands off on the towel next to the sink. Turning around to face your worried and slightly angry boyfriend, you reach up to hold his face, his head slightly flinching away from your cold hands, you giggle, “Shit, sorry!”

Pulling down his face, you kiss his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands find their home on your waist. The kiss slowly gets needier, causing Peter’s hands to lower down to under your thighs, hoisting you onto the counter, his arms caging you in as he places both of his hands on either side of your head. Your fingers are weaving themselves in his hair, slightly tugging on it, causing a soft moan to escape his lips. You pull away, his lips chasing yours as you back away. “Peter,” you whine.

He’s not listening, his only objective was connecting your lips again. He’s panting as he responds, his voice breathy, “Yeah, baby?” You can’t help but smirk at his current state. It seems like he forgot all about your previous conversation.

As you tilt your head back and forth to look into his eyes, he follows. His lips are desperate for your touch, and it shows. You grab his chin, forcing him to look into your eyes, “Don’t be too hard on Bryce when you see him next.”

Peter groans as he tilts his head back away from your touch, a breathy chuckle leaving him, “Why are we still talking about Bryce when I’m so close to taking you back to bed?”

You blush at his response, “I’m just saying…I don’t need to be the damsel in distress when it comes to you, Petey.” Peter brings his hands down to scoop under your thighs once again, pulling you up to his chest, making you wrap both your arms and legs around him to not fall, a big smile on your face.

“Oh, bug,” he starts to walk to your bedroom, “you’re never the damsel in distress. But sometimes they need a little reminder that you aren’t theirs to play with, are you?” You shake your head in response, the heat in your cheeks starting to pool lower on your body. “And sometimes they forget that,” he places you gently on the bed.

Peter can’t help but admire you as you lay in front of him. Pulling off his glasses and tossing them to the side, he kneels on the bed to kiss you again, leaving a few marks on your neck to serve as a physical reminder to those around you. Bryce is so fucked.

--author's note: I LOVE FRAT!PETER AND I'M SO HAPPY YOU LOVE HIM TOO ❄️ ANON!!!!!! this got a little spicy at the end and i'm so sorry i have no idea what happened LMAOO. don't forget to like, comment, and reblog. my 300 follower celebration is happening now, so don't forget to send things in!! rules are pinned to my blog!!! ok, ily bye <333

#tasm!peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker #fluff #marvel #andrew garfield peter parker #tasm!peter parker #spiderman #college au #frat!peter parker x f!reader #frat!peter parker #frat!peter #tasm!peter parker smut #frat!peter smut

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croimilis · 1 year

Text

private show

title: private show

characters: peter parker x stark!avenger!reader

rating: 18+

words: 8k

theme: smut, porn with minor plot, a little sweet moment between reader, shang-chi and america

warning: smut, filthy smut, alcohol. titty job, oral (m and f receiving),hair pulling, praise, thigh riding, fingering, nipple play, reader has nipple piercings, p in v sex, unprotected sex (please assume some type of other contraception is used), multiple orgasms (both m and f), cum swallowing, peters a bit of perv, mentions of birth control, creampie, dom!peter, confident!peter, cum eating, cum play, peter calls reader ‘princess’ maybe a little too much, soft!peter, aftercare, a little bit of subdrop

summary: “turn down the lights and watch my private show”

you notice peter has an obsession with your tits, so you offer to give him a private show

tags: @xoxabs88xox

a/n: all characters are 18+ (specifically 21 as there is drinking mentioned), this was meant to be short and sweet, but i’m slowly learning i cannot do anything in moderation and it is most definitely the most filthy smut i have ever written

He was staring again, his eyes following you throughout the room from the moment you entered. You could feel them burning into your skin as you walked, greeting various benefactors and members of the Avengers with you arm wrapped around Tony’s, to be specific you could feel them burning into the skin of the cleavage you had exposed in your deep cut dress where the ‘v’ almost reached your belly button.

It wasn’t the first time you had noticed Peter staring at your boobs, it was one of many over the last couple of months and you were sure he was staring long before it came to your attention and you don’t know how you didn’t notice sooner. After all, Peter Parker was not discreet in any way shape or form outside of his role as Spiderman.

When you first noticed it was soon after you had gotten your nipples pierced, much to your fathers horror and everyone else's amusement as Tony freaked out about his ‘sweet innocent little angel falling into temptations’ despite knowing you had not been innocent since the age of 16 when you asked him to go on birth control specifying why (he looked like he was ready to drop dead at that very second while Peper just looked on with an amused smile).

Given the pain of the piercings, you were reluctant to wear a bra for the first few days and instead floated about in loose tank tops and camis that were just tight enough to show your new piercings but not enough that it would hurt. This particular day, you were sitting at the kitchen island of the compound just scrolling on your phone as you waited for Tony and Bruce to be finished in the lab because you were supposed to be heading out to lunch with your dad.

As Peter walks into the kitchen, you flash him a smile and give a small “”hey” in greeting before turning your eyes back to your phone. Peter on the other hand could not keep his eyes off you no matter how hard he tried. In general, Peter thought you were stunning, this complete otherworldly creature that he could only describe as heavenly and he was completely and utterly infatuated from the moment he saw you all those years ago when he first joined the Avengers at the young of age of 16, that was 5 years ago now and he was still completely enamoured with you. Probably even more so now that he actually knew you as a person.

But recently Peter has become completely obsessed with a particular part of your body, he just couldn’t help himself. It seemed that every time you were around his eyes would drift towards your chest and stay there for much longer than was deemed polite, though he was sure that by even looking he was way past the point of politeness, and today was no different.

Especially with the way the bars of your new piercings were pushing against the fabric of your shirt, as if inviting him to have a look and he couldn’t look away, not as you greeted him, not as he leaned against the kitchen counter while eating the apple he had lifted, not as you tell him about the newest article about Spiderman and (hero name) and how there’s rumours the two are sleeping together or romantically involved and snort at some of the comments being made about the two of you, and not as Tony walks into the room to take you for your lunch. He prays to every god that could exist, including Thor and Loki, that you don’t notice the way his eyes suddenly snap up to your face as you give him a goodbye, like all the other times he stares he hopes you don’t notice.

But unlike all the other times before, you notice this time. You had actually looked up from your phone for a split second to try and read Peter’s expression as you tell him about the news article you were reading and had noticed that while he was listening, he was focused on something other than your voice and he was not being discreet about it with the way his eyes lingered and a light flush dusted his cheeks a lovely shade of pink.

Instead of questioning him, you simply smirk and look back down to your phone, a small blush spreading across your cheeks at the attention. After all, similar to Peter, you harboured an attraction to him from the first time you met at 16 years old but never thought it was reciprocated in any way but now you knew you were going to have fun with it.

After that you started noticing him staring more often.Like that one time after training with Natasha when you were in nothing but a sports bra and pair of athletic shorts, he seemed to be watching the way the sweat that had gathered on your body was dripping down between your cleavage with such intensity you could almost feel his gaze burning into our skin. That day you had to suppress a smirk and pretend like you were just getting a headache as Nat turned to you with a weird look and asked what was up, after all just because you knew didn’t mean everyone else had to know.

Or that time you were at an Avengers themed Halloween party some fraternity at your college was throwing and you had gone as Black Widow, taking one of Nats old cat suits and adjusting it to your body measurements to do so. Still, even with adjustments the suit was tight around your chest and squeezed your breasts together in a way that made sure they would be hard to miss. You had meet up with Peter (obviously dressed as Spiderman) and MJ (who refused to participate but still wore an Avengers t-shirt) at the party and immediately noticed how Peter’s eyes drifted to your chest before they bounced back to your eyes, a flush spreading across his cheeks as he stuttered out a greeting and practically choked on his own spit causing MJ to turn to him with a ‘wtf’ look and a “dude are you okay?”

You simply batted your eyelashes at him, inwardly grinning to yourself, and asked in your most innocent voice, “Yeah, Pete. You okay?” Peter swore he was going to die that very second had it not been for Flash (who was dressed up as Spiderman as well, though he claimed his looked more authentic despite the fact that Peter was simply wearing one of his old costumes) coming up and stealing your attention from Peter with a “(Y/N)! You’re looking great.”

---

There were moments like that scattered throughout the few months since you had noticed him staring for the first time, all of them leading up to this night and your choice of dress. Natasha and Wanda had helped you pick it out, a gorgeous black that hugged close to your figure and showed off all your curves beautifully with a deep deep ‘v’ neckline that showed of your tits like they were pieces of art to be shown off, Tony had nearly had heart failure when he had seen you in it for the first time a week earlier as he walked in on Pepper adjusting the length for you. Which to you, meant it was absolutely perfect for what you wanted it for.

Your eyes roam around the room for a bit, your arms wrapped around Tonys as talks to another benefactor and Admiral Simpson or something like that, you had stopped caring three Admirals ago, looking for Peter. When your eyes finally meet his, you smile and excuse yourself from the conversation to go and join him at the large window showing off the lights of New York below.

Peter is standing by himself, occasionally bringing the beer in his hand to his mouth to take a sip. These events weren’t really his scene, while Peter loved a good party he hated the formality around the Avengers events and so he usually kept to himself and relegated himself to a corner of the room where he could nurse a beer the whole night and just watch as the party slipped by him. Sometimes you joined him in his corner, bringing cheesy jokes and conversations that kept his mind busy, other times the two of you would escape and he would take you swinging around the city and you would end up sitting on some random rooftop his suit jacket wrapped around your shoulders to fight of the cold as you ate some of the best pizza greasy New York had to offer.

It seemed this night you decided to just join him, lifting a champagne flute from the tray of a waiter as they passed you by and downing its contents in second leaving a red residue behind from your lipstick. You stand in front of him, a small smile on your face as you do so and greet him with a gentle “hey” that he reciprocated, though you have to stop your smile from turning into a smirk as his eyes moved down your face and across your body, fully taking you in, lingering a little too long on your chest.

As Peter greets you, eyes quickly snapping up to meet yours, you let out a small chuckle and reach a hand out, wrapping it gently around his wrist and slowly moving it up her arm as you lean close to his ear, your chest pressing against his lightly as you do so.

“If you like staring at my tits so much, why don’t I give you a private show?” You smirk to yourself and bite down on your bottom lip, you were so close you could feel the heat radiating off his cheeks as the blush spread across his face rapidly.

You remove your hand from his bicep, slowly trailing it up his shoulder as you walk behind Peter, your chest now very flush with his back, you keep going your hand now gently wrapped around Peter’s neck as you tilt his head upwards so he’s looking at ceiling and you lips are right beside his ear, “Meet me in my room in 30 minutes”

You would go now, but the party had only started and as the daughter of the host it would be rude of you to not make the rounds, have at least 1 drink and socialise a bit with the other avengers, and maybe just maybe you wanted to torment the poor soul just a little. You remove your hand from Peter's neck and fully turn away from him, instead facing the bar and you smile at Natasha, who was behind the bar as usual much preferring to work at these events than have to socialise and who was already preparing a (preferred drink) for you.

As you approach, she cocks and eyebrow and gives you a sly but questioning look as if she knew exactly what you were up to., placing the drink down on the counter in front of you. “What are you doing that poor boy?”

You simply roll your eyes and lift the drinking, bringing it to your lips, eyes ghosting over to where Peter now stood in shock with a bright blush spreading across his cheeks and his head whipping from side to side to make sure no one else had seen what had happened. “I have no idea what you’re talking about Nat.”

“Uh-uh, as if you couldn’t cut the sexual tension between the two of you with a butterknife.” You snort at her comment, leaning your back against the bar and placing your elbows on it as well for extra stability in your heels as Nat leans on the bar at your side, arms crossed over the counter and her head tilted towards you, “Just make safe choices, we don’t need any little Iron Spiderlings running around.”

This time you roll your eyes at her comment and down the rest of your drink, your eyes finding a very nervous looking Shang-chi and America being hounded by a bunch of benefactors who want to know simply everything about the pair, well more specifically about what they could do. You push yourself of the bar and turn to Nat to place a kiss to her cheek, “I always make safe choices Nat,” Natasha rolls her eyes at you as she leans into the kiss and you give her a cheeky smile as you make your way over to the nervous pair and the five or six benefactors surrounding them.

“Okay, why don’t we give them some space to breathe?” The benefactors all turn to look at you at the sound of your voice, your eyes are narrowed into a glare, your face hardened and arms crossed over your chest, even if they didn’t know what exactly you were capable off and the fact that you could kill them all twice over in just a few seconds they would still be intimidated from your look alone, after all your glare could rival Medusas and turned most people into living statues as they stared at you in fear, a skill you have to thank Natasha for. They all gulp down their fear, shuffling away from Shang-Chi and America with nervous looks on their face and all muttering some form of “of course Miss. Stark” or “sorry Miss.Stark.”, preferring to use your real name over your hero name as if refusing to address you as your hero name gave them some sort of power over you.

You kept the glare on your face until the last of them disappeared out of your sight, instead going to bother some other members of the Avengers (probably Sam and Bucky) who would have no problem either entertaining them or telling them to fuck right off. As the last one disappears, you drop the glare and turn to Shang-Chi and America with a soft smile and nothing but kindness in your eyes. “You guys okay?”

America says nothing and just nods her head as she wrings her hands together nervously and Shang-chi gulps down his nerves and answers you, “Yeah..we’re…we’re good.” With a chuckle you realise they were scared of you and you reach out a hand to take Americas, rubbing soft circles against her skin as you do so to try and ease her nerves, “Relax, that look is reserved for those vultures and the press.”

Shang-Chi nods his head and you can see the tension leave his shoulders slightly, though not completely, and you can feel some of the tension leave America as she winds her fingers in with yours as a form of comfort. “Other then those guys, how are you guys?”

A shaky breath leaves Shang-Chi lips, “Nervous,” you nod along to him and hum softly in response, “Your first event is always the hardest, but you get used to them after a while and you learn how to tell those dicks to fuck off without feeling guilty about it.” America lets out a giggle at your words and you smile at her, she’s a sweet girl and being around the age you were when you first joined the Avengers you felt a sisterly need to look after her.

You spend the next 20 minutes just talking to the pair, calming their nerves and reassuring them that they were going to be fine. Every Avenger in the room had their backs and all it would take is one word and they would handle anyone giving them bother, especially Stephen Strange who had formed an attachment to America.

Once their nerves were calmed she started to get to know each other a little more, you talked about your mothers and how much you adored and missed them, Shang-Chi told you about Ta Lo and America told you about the Utopian parallel universe she was from and you spoke about the small cottage in the middle of nowhere your mother raised you in, surrounded by nothing but woods and nature, it was your perfect little corner of the world untouched by anyone else until she got sick. It was nice to talk about, most people you spoke to about your mother always showed sympathy and seemed to focus on the the loss rather than who she was as a person, but Shang-Chi and America wanted to know about her, about your life with her, not the grief, not the loss, but the good moments, the memories you shared with her and the love.

The conversation shifts quickly as Shang-Chi and America start to discuss some movie they had both seen that weekend, and you take that moment to excuse yourself from the pair as you notice Peter slip out of the room. You make your way towards the back of the room, skirting the edges and disappearing into the shadows as you do making it easy for you to slip out of the room without being noticed by most people, the only ones that do are Natasha and Bucky and they share a knowing look and small smirk before they turn back to their conversation.

---

As quickly as you slip into your room, you’re slammed against the cool metal of the door as it slides closed behind you with a hand roughly grabbing at your hips and another slamming against the door at the side of your face effectively trapping you against it. Your eyes instantly snap up to meet with Peter’s, his pupils blown wide and full of lust, you simply smirk up at him and bite down on your lip.

He’s so close, pressing his body against yours and you can feel the bulge that is barely contained by his dress pants pressing against you, can feel the rippling muscles of his abdomen as they press against your chest and his hot breath against your face as he leans in towards yu, yet still you want him impossibly closer to you. The desire that has been boiling away inside you these past few months finally bubbling over and igniting every nerve ending in your body, leaving you consumed by want, by need.

Your own breath starts to come out heavy and laboured as the desire begins to pull in your stomach, especially as Peter squeezes at your hips and slowly starts to move his hand upwards, ghosting over your torso and going higher and higher until his palm is barely touching the side of your breast while his fingers gently dug into your rips.

“I believe you owe me a show princess.”

You were used to the term ‘princess’ being thrown around when discussing you, usually by the press or by the people who thought you got everything handed to you by Tony since you were introduced to the world as his daughter at your 18 birthday. The people who called you princess used the word like a knife in an attempt to cut into you and see you bleed so they could inject their venom directly into your blood and turn you into the bitchy socialite they wanted you to be, that way they would be justified in their horribleness towards you.

But Peter’s tone did not hold any venom it, his voice had not be sharpened into a knife edge meant to dig into your skin, Instead it was honey rich and smooth and slipped off his tongue almost like a prayer, warming you from the inside and sending another pang of desire rolling through your bones.

Peter steps back from you, his arms moving from your side and waist but despite the absence you can still feel their lingering warmth through the fabric of your dress, and he sits himself down on the edge of your bed with his forearms against his thighs as he leans forward slightly and regards you with an intense, almost predatory gaze.

It sends a shiver down your spines and warmth to your core and the intensity of the look causes your hands to shake as you reach to the back of your dress and slowly pull down the zipper. You were deliberate with your speed, wanting to tease Peter just a little while longer and maybe a part of you was hoping he would jump to his feet and rip the zipper down himself. But he doesn’t.

Instead, as the slipper slowly moves down your back,you notice the vein in his jaw jump as he clenches it tighter and tighter. As the zip finally reaches the bottom, just above your ass, you let the sleeves of the dress fall from your arms which allows the fabric to pool at your feet, leaving you in only your heels. You stand there for a second, watching as Peter’s eyes widen at your bare form, after all the tightness of your dress did not leave room for panties or bra lines. His reaction causes a smirk to rise on your lips.

“You’re fucking stunning princess.”

You step out of the fabric at your feet, your heels clicking against the ground as you stalk towards him. As you reach him, his hands wrap around your bare thighs and he gives them a gentle squeeze as he stares up at you before leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss against your hip. You cup your hands around his jaw, rubbing your thumb against his cheek as you bend down to place a gentle kiss against his lips.

The kiss starts soft but quickly turns heated as Peter grips at your thigh and causes a small gasp to leave your lips, which Peter uses to shove his tongue into your mouth. You moan into Peter’s mouth as he twirls his tongue around yours before pulling it back and biting down gently on your lip, one of his hands moves from your thigh and trails ever closer to where you need him most and he smirks into the kiss as he feels your wetness seeping down your thigh, the effect he has on you fueling his ego.

Peter pulls away from the kiss and pulls his hand away from your thigh, a light residue from the wetness on your thigh coating his fingers, “This all for me baby?”

You nod, not knowing where this confident side of Peter had come from but loving it all the same, “Yes Peter, all for you.” He lets out a hum and sucks his fingers into his mouth, savouring the lingering taste of you as he looks up at your flushed cheeks through his long lashes. You gulp at the sight, moving your hands from his jaw line and down onto his shoulders, trailing down his arms as you lower yourself down onto your knees in front of him.

You rest your hands over his clothed thigh and look up at Peter with lightly veiled innocence, your big doe eyes lust blown to the point that the [colour] of your irises were almost completely gone, eclipsed by the blackness of your pupils, and slightly parted lips now imprinted in Peter's mind and locked away somewhere safe for those lonely nights in the future where he will most definitely be touching himself thinking about this night. “Let me take care of you Peter, please?”

When you look at him like that and ask in that almost begging tone, who was he to tell you no, “Go ahead baby.”

With his permission, you’re moving your hand from his thigh and to the zipper of his pants pulling it down and then pulling down both his pants and boxers in on go, Peter lifting his hips slightly to make it easier for you, letting them pool around his ankles and you lick your lips at the sight of his cock bouncing against his stomach once its released from his boxers.

You keep your hands on high thighs and lean forward, your tongue making contact with the base of Peter’s cock and causing a groan to fall from Peter’s lip that only amplifies as you lick up to the tip and suck the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. The moan Peter lets out is like music to your ears and encourages you to do it again, running your tongue over the slit as you do, before starting to bob up and down on his length.

You do your best to take him all in your mouth, but you struggle to do so, gagging as he hits the back of your throat. Your inability to take all of him in your mouth sparks an idea in your mind, one you're sure Peter is going to love. Pushing yourself up on your knees so you’re just that little bit higher, you lean forward and slot Peter’s cock into the valley of your breasts and Peter nearly faints at the sight.

Your pretty lips all swollen from the kiss and from sucking his cock, your pretty little boobs wrapped around his cock, its another image seared into his mind and stored away for later use. As you press your hands into the side of your boobs, tightening their hold on his cock, and start moving them up and down, the moan Peter lets out can only be described as unholy and it adds fuel to the already raging fire inside you as you clench and unclench around nothing and rub your thighs together for just a little bit of friction or relief, though it offers none.

You continue your ministrations with your tits, watching through heavy lashes as Peter’s face contorts in pleasure and he struggles to hold in the moans and groans that are falling intermittently from his lips, between words of praise about how good you’re making him feel and being such a good girl for him, you would admit it to no one (not even Peter) but his words went straight to your core and caused you to clench even harder around nothing.

You reach your tongue out, giving kitten licks to the mushroom tip and over his slit as often as you could between the thrust of yours boobs, causing Peter to throw his head back and pleasure and reach a hand out to grab at the hair at the back of your head, “Shit , princess… you’re killing me here.”

That’s all the encouragement you need to keep going, darting your tongue out and swiping across Peters head almost every time it gets close to your mouth, licking up the precum leaking out of the tip, and squeezing your boobs even tighter around his cock as you do so, another groan forces itself out of Peters mouth as his hand tightens in your hair, causing a moan to fall from your own lips. “I’m so close, you gonna let me cum all over those pretty tits of yours princess?”

“Yes Peter, please cum all over my tits”

The desperation in your voice, the almost begging tone lacing it causes Peter to lose his composure and control as he shoots rope after rope of cum over your chest as you continue to move your boobs over him, the cum spreading down the valley and up onto your chest with some even landing in your mouth on your waiting tongue that you had stuck out when he started to cum.

Peter pants as you let go of your boobs and sit back, his hand leaves your hair and instead cups your jaw gently in a stark contrast with how hard he had been gripping at the roots where he runs a finger across your chin to swipe up the cum that had hit against it. He taps his thumb against your lips and you open, sucking his thumb into your mouth and moaning at the sensuality of it. It’s another image Peter will have seared in the back of his brain for the rest of his life.

As Peter focuses on the image of you, on your knees sucking on his thumb covered in his cum, you swipe some of the cum of your chest letting it cover your fingers before you pull back of his thumb and instead suck your own fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them to get as much cum off them as you can. Your eyes are staring up at Peter’s through your eyelashes, watching as the irises almost completely disappear, existing as the smallest rings around the pitch blackness of the blown out pupil, when you pull your fingers from your mouth with a ‘pop’ Peter is quick to pull you into a rough kiss, instantly shoving his tongue into your mouth.

You moan at the sensation of his tongue massaging yours, reaching your hands up and wrapping them around his neck, rising back up so Peter’s not having to bend over as much, tangling your hands a little bit less than gently in his hair and giving it a gentle tug, which causes Peter to let put a deep almost animalistic growl that has you clenching your thighs together even tighter, the movement of which Peter notices and he’s pulls away from you, a cocky smirk on his face.

“You took such good care of me princess…” His hand ghosts across your thigh until he’s hovering over your core, so close you can feel the heat emanating from it, and then ever so slowly he runs a finger through your folds, pressing against your clit with the slightest pressure as he does so and causing a whine to fall from your lips because god was it the most heavenly thing you’ve felt recently but it just was not enough, “Now let me take care of you.”

He takes your arms in his hands, guiding you to standing before he strips himself of his blazer and dress shirt, throwing them to the ground somewhere in your room. He lets you go and sits back down on the bed, patting his thigh as an invitation for you to sit. It's one you take almost immediately, throwing on leg over and lowering yourself down so that the fabric of his trousers make contact with your bare cunt and rubbing so deliciously on your clit as you do, ripping a moan from your throat as you do. "You have such pretty moans, pretty girl."

Peter grips onto your hips, fingers digging in a way that was painful to the point you were sure they were going to leave bruises but also amplified the pleasure coursing through your veins. Peter starts to move you up and down his thigh, the friction of the fabric rubbing on your clit at a brutal pace sending shockwaves through you and causing you to throw your head back as moans continually fall from your lips.

“Does that feel good?” You nod your head and Peter tenses his thigh underneath you, bouncing his knee alongside it pulling another loud moan from your lips at pleasure overwhelms your senses, “Come on princess, you gotta use your words.”

You let out a whine at the sensation, the motion of the bounce putting delicious pressure and friction against your clit that has you almost seeing stars, “Fe-feels s’good Peter.” Your words slur together as pleasure overwhelms your senses. Peter’s grip tightens at your words as he moves you even quicker against his thigh, the coil in your stomach that had already been wound tight, tightens even further and can feel the cliff edge of your orgasm approaching so very quickly.

“Yeah baby? You gonna cum all over my thigh?” You nod your head, reaching your hand up to grip at Peter’s shoulders so tightly that you're sure you’ll leave behind crescent shapes from your nails or even draw blood. Peter groans at the sensation, his cock already semi-hard again from watching you unravel on his thigh, he never thought he would be in pain (he experience enough of it on a daily basis) but yet here you are proving him wrong with the way your hands had previously tugged at his hair and the way your nails are currently biting into his skin and causing his cock to twitch at the sensations.

“Go on then princess, cum for me.” There he goes again with that stupid pet name that you should hate but instead has you melting into him even further, your clit throbbing as it rolls of his tongue like liquid gold honey that seeps deep into your bones. Peter tenses his thigh once again and you feel every ridge of hard muscle under the cloth of his trousers and it sends you spiralling off the cliff edge you had been teetering on as your orgasm sends shockwaves through your body.

Peter watches your face as it contorts in pleasure from your orgasm wracking through your body, ignoring the wetness that had now gone through his pants and was coating his thigh, and he swears you’ve never looked more beautiful and another image is forever ingrained in his mind. His cock was now fully hard once again and twitching against his stomach begging for some kind of attention or friction, which he grants it by removing his hand from it and giving it a few pumps but it wasn’t enough, no, Peter was feeling greedy now. He already felt the bliss of your mouth and tits wrapped around him and now he wanted more, no he needed more. Needed to feel your pretty little pussy wrapped around him and squeezing him.

Peter makes a quick decision while you’re still coming down from your orgasm and wraps the hand still holding onto you around your waist and twists you both around so that you were now lying on the bed with your legs hanging of bed with your butt just on the edge and he was now kneeling down in front of you with both hands on your knees, holding your legs apart as he eyes up your soaking wet cunt.

It almost makes you feel self-conscious, almost has you trying to squeeze your legs closed but Peter's firm grip and his superhuman strength stops you no matter how hard you strain against him, you simply cannot win against Peter in a battle of pure strength. The self consciousness erodes away and the words of discontent that were forming on your tongue are replaced by a porn-staresque moan as Peter dives in and licks a stripe up your cunt and latches his mouth onto your clit. `The sound causes Peters dick to twitch against his abdomen.

He hums against your clit, the vibrations adding to the immense pleasure you were feeling, and slowly pushes a single digit into your weeping hole to start prepping you to take his cock. He pumps in and out of you, finger curling in and pressing against your gummy walls as he does, you moan at the combined movement and sensation of Peter sucking on your clit and feel the coil in your stomach already start to tighten once again.

Peters free hand trails up your abdomen with a featherlight touch that you barely feel over the pressure of him fucking his finger into you, you really only become aware of his other hand when he pinches at your nipple and pulls at the metal of the piercing, the pain melding in with the pleasure in such a way that your eyes are rolling to the back of your skull and you miss the way Peter stretched you out by entering a second and third finger into you.

The coil in your stomach is impossibly tight, tighter that it ever has been and yet you doesn’t snap as Peter releases your clit with a ‘pop’ but he continues the ministrations with his fingers, rubbing against your most sensitive spot with every thrust, “God princess, you taste absolutely amazing and feel so amazing clenching down on my fingers, I can’t wait to feel you clenching on my cock.”

The praise falling from Peter’s lips goes straight to your head and causes you to clench around his fingers even harder, he presses harder into your g-spot and pulls on your nipples once again causing a wanton moan to fall from your lips, the coil in your stomach starting to reach it’s breaking point. “You gonna cum again baby? Go on, cum all over my fingers and face.” Suddenly Peter’s sucking on your clit once again and your eyes are rolling back in pleasure as it overwhelms you and you see nothing but stars as your orgasm overwhelms your senses.

As you cum all over him, your juices squirting over his fingers and rolling down to his wrist, he removes his fingers and instead starts to lap up everything you have to give him, moving the hand on your nipple down to hold your waist against the bed as you begin to write in overstimulation of Peter tonguing your entrance.

The sound of a whine finally pulls Peter away from your pussy and he stands from where he was kneeling, your juices now coating his mouth from your explosive organism, you look angelic with your hair spread out in a halo around you and a blissed out expression on your face, eyes wide and chest rising up and down rapidly as you try and catch your breath. In between your breaths, you reach out to Peter and he gladly leans in, allowing you to wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him down into a passionate kiss that is all teeth and tongue as you try and get as much of Peter as you can.

Peter is the first to pull away from the kiss and starts to trail kisses down your neck, stopping occasionally to bite and suck on your skin leaving a trail of hickeys in his wake. The sensations have you whining, desperate for more as your needy cunt clenches around nothing, “Peter…” Peter smirks into your skin and places a gentle kiss on your collarbone before he rises and stares down at you with a raised eyebrow, “Need you…”

“Need me where princess? Come on baby use your words, tell me what you want”

“Please Peter…I need to feel you inside of me… please please fuck me” Your tone is begging, a whine falling from your lips at the end of the sentence, and who was Peter to deny you when you sounded so pretty begging for him inside you. Peter grips the base of his cock and rubs himself along your fold, coating himself in all your wonderful wetness as a lubricant, as the tip of his cock catches on your clit you let out another whine and Peter smirks at the sound. “Peter…please…enough teasing.”

Peter lines himself up with your entrance and looks up at you for confirmation and as you nod your head he slowly slides himself in, letting out a low groan at the sensation of you stretching and clenching around his cock. It's a groan that is drowned out completely by the moan you let out. Peter moves so slowly you can feel every part of his cock as it rubs inside of you, all the veins and ridges all piling onto the pleasure you’re experiencing and as he bottoms out inside you you let out a small, pleasurable whine.

You have never felt so full before in your life, no other partner you had filled you up just as much as Peter does, and it felt absolutely amazing. With Peter spending time prepping you to take him, you barely feel any pain and it takes only a second of Peter being fully sheathed inside you before you start beginning him to move, it’s a request he’s glad to fulfil as he slowly pulls out before slamming back into you and starting an almost brutal pace.

As Peter thrusts in and out of you at a rapid pace, you wrap your arms around his shoulder and dig your nails into the flesh, the pain of which combines with the pleasure of your cunt squeezing his cock and pulls a deep moan from Peter that has you dragging your nails down his back leaving red marks in your wake to hear it again and again. Your own moans join in with Peters as his cock hits against either your g-spot or your cervix with every thrust, driving you absolutely insane with pleasure to the point that black dots began to gather in your vision as another orgasm rocks through you unexpectedly, a result of combining the after effects of your previous orgasm and the pleasure currently coursing through every nerve in your body.

Peter lets out a deep groan as you clench around him, eyes moving to watch his cock piston in and out of you and at the white ring of your cum that had gathered around the base, “Fuck princess you feel so fucking amazing on my cock, squeezing me so good.” You try and form words, anything to show Peter just how amazing he’s making you feel, but you can’t. The words die in the back of your throat and are instead replaced simply by whines and moans but they’re still sounds that make Peter’s cock twitch inside of you.

Peter continues his assault on your pussy, chasing his own high, the pattern of his thrusts becoming irregular and scattered as he rapidly approaches his own orgasm. “Fuck…princes I’m going to cum” He was going to pull out and cum on your pussy and stomach, never had any intention of cumming inside of you until your soft voice quietly calls out an “inside.”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours and something feral reflected in them, “You want me to cum inside you princess? Want me to fill you up?” You nod your head as best you can and Peter slows down his thrust

“Oh God, yes Peter…please fill me with your cum.”

Peter speeds up his thrusts once again, hips slamming hard against your pelvis and balls slamming against your ass, the squelching sound of your pussy and the slapping of skin fills the air and joins the erotic symphony of your combined moans as Peter chases his high, the only thought in his head being how pretty you’re going to look with his cum dripping out of your pussy. It doesn’t take long until Peter trusts become sloppy and he sheathes himself completely inside you, tip of his cock pressed right against your cervix as he shoots rope after rope of hot cum inside of you with a loud groan.

Peter almost collapses on top of you, but he stops himself by placing his forearms by your head and using them to support his weight as his eyes move over your face, watching intently as you catch your breath and slowly come back to reality after three orgasms. He gently brushes one hand across your face in an attempt to ground you and as he cups your cheek to rub a thumb across the skin, you reach for his hand and cup your own around it. “You okay?”

You nod and turn your head to place gentle kisses on the palm of Peter’s hand, which has him smiling down at you gently and placing his own soft kisses against your forehead, “I’m going to pull out, okay?” You nod again, eyelids fluttering slightly and a small whine leaving your lips as Peter removes his cock from inside you, the stimulation a little too much. Peter whispers a gentle “sorry” and places more comforting kisses against your face and shoulders, the hand on your cheek continuing to rub against your skin to try and comfort you.

Peter places a gentle and loving kiss against your lips, the tenderness acting as such a juxtaposition to how deeply and roughly he had been fucking you moments before. You smile into the kiss, hand curling around the back of Peter’s neck to play with the baby hairs at the base. Peter pulls back from the kiss with a smile and pecks your nose gently, the cloudiness that had previously been in your eyes fading slightly as the skin to skin contact you have with him grounds you back to earth.

“Do you need anything? A shower, a bath, snacks?” You take a deep breath, pulling Peter down so he’s even closer and nuzzling into his neck, inhaling his scent as deep as you can and placing a light kiss against the skin, “A bath would be nice.” Your voice comes out soft and just above a whisper, had Peter not been deliberately paying attention he would have missed it.

“Okay princess, let’s run you a bath.” Peter goes to lift of you, but you keep him tight in your grip and wrap your legs around his waist, further restricting him from moving and going to draw you a bath. You let out a noise of discontent as he tries to pull away once again and Peter chuckles slightly at the sound. If you weren’t willing to let him go, then he was just going to have to carry you, which he did as he wrapped and arm around your waist for extra support and stood with you in his arms.

“Don’t worry princess, I’ll take good care of you”

---

Tony approaches Natasha at the bar, wanting a drink but also a little curious as to where you had disappeared too. You were on his arm when you both entered the party, though you quickly separated from him to go and socialise with people your own age after you had greeted all the necessary benefactors and he remembers seeing you with Parker briefly and then with America and Shang-Chi, it was their first Avengers formal event so he assumed you were reassuring them, but he hadn’t seen you since and he was getting just a little worried.

Nat, having seen Tony on his way towards her, places a glass of scotch, neat, on the bar top and smirks to herself as he grabs the glass and downs it in on go before he starts questioning her. “Have you seen my daughter?”

Natasha lets out a small hum and leans forward on the bar, using her forearms to support her weight as she does so, “I might have.” Tony rolls his eyes at the Widow and lets out a huff of air, placing his empty glass down with a little more force than necessary. Natahsa’s smirk grows into a knowing smile as she glances to the door that both you and a certain spiderling had disappeared out of about 2 hours earlier and had yet to return from. Tony follows her gaze and he feels his heart tightening at the thought you had left with someone, “She left with someone?”

Natasha nods her head, “‘Bout 2 hours ago.” Horror slowly fills Tony, you would only be away for that long for one reason and one reason only and it was not one he was ready to consider for you. Despite being 21 years old, you were still hes sweet, little girl and the thought of you being sexually active was horrifying. Not only that, most people here that weren’t members of the Avengers were his age and older and he did not want you mixed up with them and there were very few members of the Avengers around your age, well specifically one and as the thought crossed his mind Tony started to glare at nothing, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he did so, “Parker”

Natasha laughed at Tony, a full belly laugh that had her throwing her head back as she did. After she settled down her laughter enough, she was able to grab onto Tony's shoulder to stop him from storming into your bedroom and seeing something he really did not want to see, “Oh come on. They’re young, let them have their fun.” Tony huffed out once again, as Pepper's voice filled his ears. He hadn’t even noticed her coming up beside him and taking his hand in hers to calm him down, though his temper flares again as Natasha speaks up once again.

“At least it’s not Barnes she’s running off with.”

7K notes · View notes

psithurista · 10 months

Text

approach shift pt. nine

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 4.3k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: Mentions of death, fingering, a quick wristy (lol)

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

a/n: Last full chapter but there will be an epilogue in the not-too-distant; I'll probably have more notes then. Thank you x

series masterlist

The back of your head is torturously itchy.

You try surreptitiously to press your knuckles to the spot, just to relieve the worst of it. The nurse sitting closest to you glances up at you from over the top of her monitor and guiltily, you clasp your hands back down into your lap.

It smells sour in here, like soft plums left to rot. Whichever industrial cleaner it is this hospital uses, it’s definitely not one anybody’s trying to market for domestic use. It’s probably cheap as fuck, you contemplate, your hand drifting back up towards your head.

“You can go in now,” a new nurse says beside you. You jerk your hand away. “He’s awake. I let him know you’ve been waiting.”

“Oh, thank you,” you say, unpeeling yourself from the plastic waiting room chair. “I won’t be very long. I just wanted to say hi.”

She gives you a mild, distracted okay-that’s-nice-whatever smile and disappears. You push open the door to the room she’d just exited and duck inside.

It smells far better in here. There’s a vase of opening lilies leaving red pollen-stains on the table in front of the window, and the lavender-powder smell of clean sheets. Doctor Brant is propped up in the bed, frowning hard at the tablet in his hands.

“I hope you aren’t working while you’re meant to be resting,” you say.

He tilts his head down to peer at you over his glasses. “Oh, no. It’s just sudoku. It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Doctor. How are you?”

He nods, and sets the tablet aside. “Well, they’ve finally taken me off the oxygen so I expect I’ll be allowed to leave soon. All things considered, a little smoke inhalation injury at my…advanced age could’ve been far worse.” His eyes glint a little bit. “Were you injured?”

You shake your head. “A concussion, but I’m fine. The. He. Um. You know. He got me out, before he went back for you.”

“You shouldn’t have stayed to look for me.”

You sit gingerly on the very edge of the chair next to the bed. “I thought. I didn’t think he’d made it to you in time. I thought you were both.” Your voice starts to sound weird, so you stop talking.

He folds his hands together over his chest. “It’s strange. I remember the first time I saw him. I didn’t understand what was happening. I thought it must have been a stunt, or an advertisement for something. Silly, really. And yet he’s saved Oscorp from itself more times than it deserved. After Connors and Dillon and that whole terrible disaster with young Harry. It’s too much. There’s no reason for anybody to endanger themselves in that place ever again.” He takes his glasses off and sets them beside the bed. “Which is why I’ve resigned.”

You stare at him. “You. What?”

He smiles at you; the expression a little indulgent. “All those years of work, gone. And for nothing. I’m sure you’ve already heard what happened?”

You have. It’s been all over the news the entire week. First the speculation: was it an attack? Was it political? Was it another disgruntled ex-employee? A competitor? And then, later, the worse, more boring truth: regular old corporate negligence. An undertrained technician who’d tried to prematurely purge a vac test chamber with concentrated oxygen. An alarm system two years overdue for maintenance. And floor upon floor of laboratories filled with dangerous substances, improperly stored.  

Nobody else in your department was seriously hurt. But others weren’t so lucky.

“When I started with Norm, it was all about changing the world for the better. And in the end, we’ve helped nobody.” He shakes his head. “If you’ll forgive my language…Fuck Oscorp. I’m ready to start over.”

You grin at him, even though it feels a little watery. “I’m…really happy for you.” And you are. In the brief time you’ve worked under him, his passion has been obvious, but he’s always seemed so bogged down by the minutiae of red tape; appeasing a board of investors with no interest in the importance of his life’s work beyond its potential profitability.

But it also makes your already-uncertain future with the company even foggier. You’ll need to find someone else willing to offer you a similar graduate position, and you already know you won’t find anything else quite as specialised as the work he’s been doing.

He takes a sip from the glass of water beside his bed, then sits back with a sigh. “Publicly-funded research is a far less glamorous world than that of private enterprise. We’ll be relying primarily on grant funding and academic support. There won’t be any glass fountains or vertical gardens, I’m afraid.”

You nod sympathetically. “I can imagine. It’ll be a big change.” His eyebrows draw together at you. “I would understand if your answer is no.”

You blink. “My answer?” you say, like a genius.

“If so, I would, of course, write you a glowing recommendation. And I have plenty of contacts I could put you in touch with, if you’d prefer that.”

Holy shit. Is he…? “Hold on. Are you offering me a position with you?”

“Well, yes.”

He grunts as you dart in and hug him. “Oh! Yes! I mean, of course! I would love to. Thank you so much. You won’t regret this.”

“Uh.”

You lean back as he smooths his blankets down. “Sorry,” you say, a little sheepish. “That was unprofessional.”

He tries to look stern, but it’s unconvincing. “Well, yes,” he says again. “But I’ll choose to ignore it just this once.”

You stop by to see Bear on your way home. The roller doors in the alley beside the grimy little theatre are propped open so you can see all the half-painted set pieces inside, and there’s a bunch of people dressed all in black gathered around smoking.

“Are you gonna be home tonight?” you ask, watching her inhale the deli sandwich you’d brought after correctly guessing she hadn’t stopped rehearsing long enough for lunch.

“I can be if you want,” she says, her mouth full of half-chewed food. “But I was kind of planning on staying at a friend’s.”

You press your knuckles absently against the back of your head and leer at her. “Would this friend happen to be the same person who wanted you to move in after one salad date?”

“If you don’t stop scratching your stitches I’m calling the hospital and narcing to your doctor. And yes.”

You make a face. “I’m not even touching them!”

She stuffs the rest of the sandwich in her mouth and wipes her hands on her jeans. “I’m seriously cool not to go, though. It’s totally fine.”

She’s barely left you alone since you got back from the emergency room, even setting alarms and checking up on you throughout the first couple of nights. You know for a fact she’s had to cancel other plans for you—again. You shake your head. “No, go. I kind of want some alone time anyway.”

It’s another cold, bright afternoon. You walk into the feet of your shadow and spread your fingers beside your body as your arms move, watching them elongating out on the pavement in front of you, lost in thought. You’ve been lost in thought a lot, lately.

You’re just past the end of your block when you catch sight of the figure sitting on the stairs outside your building. Long legs in faded jeans are stretched out and crossed over at the ankles, and there’s duct tape around the toe of one sneaker. You slow to a halt on the sidewalk. A woman behind you huffs with irritation, veering around you, a giant paper grocery bag clutched in her arms.

He looks up from his cracked phone screen as you draw level with your door. His hair is as chaotic as ever, stuck up in every direction, except for at the nape of his neck, where it curls gently around in little flicks. He looks tired. He’s always looked tired, the whole time you’ve known him, but you notice it differently now. Like the holes in his jeans, and the bruise on his jaw, and the angry-sore-looking blisters on his knuckles.

He smiles a little, jerking you out of your silent staring. “Hi. Sorry. I didn’t wanna just show up unannounced. I’ve been trying to call, but,” he holds his phone up, and you shake your head.

“My phone was—”

“Yeah, I figured.”

The wind lifts the edge of your scarf and shivers under the neck of your coat. There’s something sweet in the air; like cinnamon sugar, maybe someone baking from one of the open windows overhead. “Do you want to come inside?”

His expression is soft as he considers you, looking up through his lashes. “Okay.”

Neither of you speak on the trip upstairs. Your hand accidentally brushes his as you reach out for the elevator buttons, and you both pull away, as awkward and over-polite as strangers.

He stands a respectful distance back as you open your door, and you lead him inside, waving your hand vaguely toward the sofa. “Do you want a drink?”

He folds himself into the seat nearest the window, hunching over and shoving his hands between his knees. A cold drift of sun touches his jaw. “Um, no thanks, it’s cool.”

You sit down beside him, folding your hands across your lap like you’re about to get a class picture taken.

He chews his lip, runs his thumbs over his burned hands. Outside, a car horn beeps. “It’s not because I didn’t trust you,” he starts. “If you’re wondering. I don’t want you thinking that’s the reason.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “You don’t need to explain.”

“I just want you to know—”

“I know.” You try to smile at him, and it feels a little watery. “I get it. I know why you couldn’t tell me.”

His brows bend together just enough to mark out a pained line. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Really. Don’t be.”

It falls silent in your living room. The little clay pinch pot in the centre of the coffee table Bear had brought home from the artists’ market watches you both watching one another; soft-skinned and tender as nervous newborn things.

“You might die doing this,” you finally point out. “One day. All those times you’ve been hurt. You might…not come home.”

He nods at the floor. “Which is why I couldn’t really ask you to, you know. Waste your time with—” he waves his hands vaguely back and forth between your bodies. “It’s not worth it. And, like, trust me, I would never, ever want to drag you into any of the shit I’m involved with. I didn’t mean to fuck you around so long, knowing you wouldn’t...” He looks back at you, his dark eyes soft. “It was just. The happiest I’ve been in a really long time. I couldn’t stop myself. I’m sorry. It was shitty of me. Selfish.”

You stare at him for a few seconds in stunned disbelief. Then you laugh. You don’t mean to, and his head jerks back, startled. “Are you serious?” you manage.

His eyes are huge. “Uh. Yeah?”

You laugh again. It sounds a little manic. “You’re unbelievable.”

He flushes. “Could you maybe quit laughing at me when I’m trying to—”

“Peter. You saved my fucking life. Twice. Even after I was a total asshole to you. You saved me.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Yeah, look, I don’t want you to feel weird about that. Like, it’s totally, one-hundred-percent not a big deal and I never want anybody to feel like—”

“You help people. Strangers. Every day. For nothing. And they aren’t even grateful. The things people write about you.” He hasn’t moved, and you realise you’re talking louder than you need to, considering he’s right in front of you. “You’re the least selfish person I’ve ever met,” you tell him, emphatic, needing him to get it. “You’re a good person, Peter. I’m so sorry I didn’t see that before.” Your voice breaks a little and it’s embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as the fact that your vision has gone blurry and your cheeks feel suddenly too hot.

You stop and breathe for a few moments, willing yourself not to cry. He doesn’t say anything, just studies the edge of the rug as though he’s pretending not to notice, and you’re grateful.

Then, quietly, he takes a breath. “I was going to tell you. Before the fire. I saw May, and she told me she saw you, and that you’d talked, and. I wanted to explain everything.”

You remember the way May had looked that day in the park; her small, sad mouth, and the way she’d spoken slowly like she was choosing each word carefully. “Does she know?”

Peter half-shrugs. “We’ve never talked about it. But, like, I know she knows. And she knows I know she does.” He gives you a little smile. “It’s easier if we both keep pretending we don’t, though.”

“Does anyone else?”

His smile turns tight. “I guess not. Not really.”

“So you’ve been doing this all on your own? The whole time? How?”

He runs his hand back through his hair. “Yeah. Well, I guess I’m pretty good with DIY now, you know? I wasn’t always. I had to learn. Shit went wrong a lot in the beginning. Shit still goes wrong a lot.”

You lean in a little, curling into the cushions. “What’s the hardest part?”

You’re expecting him to say the fear of discovery, or the isolation, or the sheer physical exhaustion. But he wrinkles his nose. “God. The sewing. It’s so hard. And it’s constant. I swear I pop a different seam every day.” His face goes blank for a moment and he looks at you as though a brand new thought has just occurred to him for the first time. “It’s actually really nice. Getting to talk about this.”

“Am I allowed to ask about the outfit?”

He slaps his hands over his face. “You are absolutely fucking not allowed to ask about the outfit.��

Your mouth drops open in outrage. “I wasn’t gonna laugh! I just want to know why—”

“Look, I was going for, like, a velodrome thing. Like for speed and better flexibility and less wind-resistance and then like, anonymity as well, obviously, and originally—”

“What about the, uh, pattern?”

“Yeah, okay, okay, it seemed cool at the time! I was fifteen!”

The thought of Peter as a child, alone, in danger, no doubt even ganglier and nerdier than he is now, sends a fresh pang of sadness through you. You try not to let it show. “Do you eat the webs?”

He stares like you’ve just asked if he’d like to swap heads with you. “What?”

“Certain types of spiders go back and eat their webs after they’re done with them. Like, to replenish the protein they expended making them. Do you ever eat yours?”

The expression on his face is the funniest thing you’ve ever seen. “Uh, no. It’s inorganic. Like, it’s a, like essentially a nylon polymer composite. It’s not edible. I mean, I’ve never tried, but it’s designed to dissolve after a few hours, so I guess if you did really want to eat it, it wouldn’t hurt you…” He trails off, sheepish, looking at you sideways. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Yeah,” you say, unable to stifle your smile any longer.

He grins and ducks his head. He hasn’t shaved today, you note; there’s a little bit of stubble along his jawline.

Your chest hurts. Seeing him, being close to him, just like before. It pulls open the ache of missing him, turning it from a bruise into a wound. You know you shouldn’t. You tell yourself not to. But you do it anyway.

“I miss you.” Your voice is barely louder than a whisper.

He looks so fucking sad. His eyes are huge and pained and so close, and then they dart down to your lips, and you see it; the precise split-second the urge hits him, then the one after as he fights it, and your heart sinks and you’re about to lean back but then his mouth is on yours and it’s soft and it’s warm and unbearably gentle as his hands sweep up to the base of your neck.  It’s not the best kiss you’ve ever had.

You’re twisted uncomfortably to face him. Your hands lay shocked in your lap, and you’re pretty sure he can hear you attempting not to sniffle too much with your breathing, and you’re so busy worrying about it that you forget to open up to him; his tongue touching the edge of your lips. His fingertips brush the stitches at the back of your head and you flinch, pulling away.  “Oh, shit, sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, visibly mortified.   “It’s okay,” you say. “Didn’t hurt. It’s just sensitive.”

“For kissing you,” he clarifies. “I know we’re not, like…you know. Anymore.”

That hurts. You shake your head. “We could be. We could try.”

“I can’t ask you—"

“No. Don’t do that. What do you want?”

He exhales through his nose and a tiny, pained sound escapes with it. “It’s not that easy—“

“It is. It is that easy. What do you want?”

“You have no idea,” he says, suddenly. “God. You have no fucking idea how bad I want you. I want this. You’re the only thing I. Fuck.” He knuckles at his eyes, frustrated. “You just have no idea how bad this could go.”

“I do,” you tell him, gently. “I know exactly how bad it could go. And I’m sorry, Peter. I’m so sorry that happened. It’s so, so fucked up that that happened and I’m so sorry, and I know nothing I can say will ever make any of it any less fucked up, but fucked up things happen. They happen all the time for normal people, too. And fucked up things are going to keep happening and it’s inevitable and it’s part of being alive and that’s why we just need to take that risk every day, and choose to—to try to just be happy in as many stupid fucking hopeless ways as we can anyway, because we deserve to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

He’s staring at you like he wants to believe you. Like he wants to cry. “You need to know,” he says, reaching his hand out, pulling it back. “I can’t promise you this’ll be okay. If you still wanted…I would try. I would try so, so hard for you. Harder than I’ve ever tried at anything. But I—I still just have no way of knowing that it’ll be okay.“

You smile at him, shaky and sure. “That’s any relationship, Parker.”

This time when he kisses you, you’re ready. Your mouth opens eagerly under his, catching the faint metal-salt of his skin, the dryness where his lips are ever-so-slightly windburnt.

All the breath leaves your body in a rush. You shove your hands up through his hair, lifting up onto your knees and sliding across his lap until you’re straddling him on the couch.

He tilts his head back to work his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands sliding up underneath your shirt to find the edges of your bra, and it’s awkward and clumsy and you’re both breathing hard by the time he manages to get your jeans unzipped and his hand cramped into your underwear.

“Holy shit,” you gasp, half-dizzy from kissing without pause. You almost bite him when his fingers find your clit. “Can you—yeah, like that, oh, my God—"

“Hold on, it’d be better if, let me…” he murmurs, frustrated, and you let out what could only be described as a yelp as he lifts your entire weight up to easily shove your jeans and underwear the rest of the way off your legs before settling you back down over his lap.

You’re stuck between trying to grind down against the front of his jeans and trying to give him enough space to work his hand back between your legs, ultimately deciding on the latter as he finds your clit again, this time his attentions unhampered by clothing.

His body hasn’t forgotten yours. It only takes a few moments of searching before he has you melting into the palm of his hand; your bones soft and hot inside you as you roll your eyes closed. It’s easy with him, just like before, but better.

You’re almost close when he eases two fingers inside you, and that’s easy too, so easy, the way you give for him. Your forehead rests against his as your lips come apart; too focused for kissing anymore.

“I missed you,” he breathes, working his wrist. “God, I missed you. I missed you so much.”

You flex your thighs as you rock with the movement of his hand, and that’s when you need to touch him, urgently. It takes a little repositioning before you manage to open his jeans and ease his cock out, wrapping your fingers loosely around him.

You feel him tense and shudder as you stroke him, too slow to really get him anywhere, too lost in the way his long, firm fingers curl inside you.

He noses along your jaw, mouthing lazily at your damp skin, his eyes closed, and then he’s there, right where you need him, and you’re clenching and biting down on the sounds trying to escape as you come apart sudden and hard around him.

You’re still loose-limbed and shaky when he pulls his slick fingers free, gently moving your hand out of the way to grasp himself instead. You feel a little guilty; you’d almost forgotten about him straining in front of you, but he doesn’t seem to care as he jerks himself quick and short in his fist. His other hand cups the swell of your ass as he huffs hot breath into your hair, your neck, coming sudden across the inside of your thigh.

You slump your weight against him.

Neither of you speak for a while. Your hand is curled between your bodies, trapped where it’s warm and you can feel his heart slowing in his chest. He runs his hand absently from your hip to your thigh, then back again.

“Peter,” you murmur.

“Mmm.”

“You do need to promise me one thing, though.”

He moves, just enough that he can look up at you. His cheeks are flushed. “What?”

“We can never. And I mean never. Tell Bear we fucked on her couch.”

His eyes widen in horror. “Oh, my God. She already hates me.”

“I know. But it’s okay, because we’re not gonna tell her.”

“I just don’t know if I can keep that secret; I’m not good at subterfuge, y’know, I’m just not that kinda guy—"

“Yeah, yeah, okay—"

“—and you should see me under pressure; I fold like origami—"

You kiss him again, just to shut him up, and feel his lips curling up against yours.

Your thighs feel sticky and gross, and you’re starting to get cold, and when you get up you nearly fall over from the cramp in your leg from sitting so awkwardly, but you’re too happy to care in the slightest.

You stand together in the bathroom, cleaning each other up. Every time his eyes meet yours in the mirror you both smile again, giggling and getting in each other’s way, like idiots.

It takes twice as long as it should to get back out to the couch, and you’re hoping he’ll curl up with you again but then you catch him glancing toward the window. “You need to go,” you say. It’s not really a question.

He hedges. “I kind of do, but…”

You offer him a little smile. “It’s okay. Go.”

He nods. You walk him to the door, where he pauses. He chews at his thumbnail, looking at you sideways again from under his eyelashes.

You watch him for a few seconds, waiting. “What?” you finally say.

He presses his lips together, runs his hand through his hair. “So. It’s probably, like, kind of weird. To ask. At this…uh, juncture.”

He’s nervous, you realise. It’s excruciatingly endearing. You nudge him. “I feel like weird’s kind of our thing.”

He grins. “Yeah. I guess. So. I was gonna ask if you’d like to go out. For dinner. Friday night.”

There’s absolutely no way to prevent the smile slowly pulling at your mouth. “Peter. Are you asking me on a date?”

He laughs, a little self-conscious huff. “Uh, yeah. Like. I mean, I wanted to way sooner. But. I guess I wanna try doing things properly this time. If you want.”

You can think of a thousand different things to say, but most of them are embarrassing, so you settle for keeping it simple. “Yes. Fuck yes. Obviously.”

He blinks. “Oh, okay, awesome, holy shit. Okay. Should we…? I don’t have your new number.”

“Oh, yeah, I need to get yours again too.” You pull your phone out and make a new contact before handing it to him.

He stares at your screen for a second, then he snorts. “You have me in your phone as ‘p.p.’?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Why? What do you have me as?”

He laughs again, quiet, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He hands your phone back. He takes a few steps out the door, then he sticks his hands in his pockets. “So. I’ll see you?”

“You will,” you tell him, watching the way his jaw juts crookedly when he smiles.

He’s halfway to the elevator, walking backwards, his hands still in his pockets when he calls back to you. “Friday, Miss Jersey.”

You laugh. “Quit disturbing my neighbours.”

You stay there long after he’s gone, leaning against your doorframe, smiling to yourself, aching with stupid, giddy affection.

#peter parker x f!reader #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x f!reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!spiderman x reader #tasm fanfic #tasm fanfiction #tasm imagine #peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter smut #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter fanfiction

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 11 months

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Going Stupid

Peter Parker x plus size reader

Peter’s roommate is driving him up the wall

Warnings: reader is kind of a bimbo and kind of based on Elle Woods, implied smut, Peter kind of hates her but not really, swearing

WC: 676

Minors DNI

3000 Follower Celebration

Peter groaned as he entered the small two bedroom apartment he was currently renting. The walls were vibrating with the force behind your Bluetooth speaker as you listened to your current hyper-fixation song. It was never his choice in the first place to have you, the bubbly underclassman studying fashion, as his roommate but when rent was jacked up, he was forced to take in the first willing person he could find.

And now he was stuck with you. You were ditsy and unorganised, he couldn’t hold an intelligent conversation with you unless it was the history of polka dots and worst of all you were drop-dead gorgeous.

It was more often than he cared to admit that he would storm off to take an extra long shower to relieve himself after coming home to you wearing practically nothing as you waltzed about the apartment. He constantly chastised himself for it. He should be attracted to women like MJ, smart, intelligent women who he could actually engage with. But no, he was stupidly falling for you.

And he just couldn’t handle that today, not after a long day in the lab followed by hours of boring lectures. You were dancing around the kitchen, donned only in panties and a tight pink tank top. There was a smear of flour across your full cheek and your lips stained with chocolate frosting. Peter’s brown eyes dropped to your tits which were moving freely, unencumbered by a bra. There was a dollop of the sugary icing on the smooth expanse of your skin. Oh how he wished to lick it off of you.

“Petey! You’re home!” He cringed at the sound of your voice, replying with a half-hearted, “Yeah I am”, as he dropped his backpack on the small bench by the door. He kicked off his shoes, wincing as his sore heels came into contact with the cold flooring.

“You know Peter, you should get some inserts for your shoes. I noticed you had high arches like months ago and I was like that’s so cool cause I have high arches too and I never meet anyone with high arches. I get my shoes custom ordered for my feet cause they hurt a lot if I walk too much and I mean a lot! Like that time I was at that club with-“ Your voice became a blur of white noise as Peter was hypnotised by the way your plump body moved gracefully through the small kitchen.

The tank top clung to you like a second skin, accentuating each and every dip of your curves. His brown eyes, slowly growing darker with lust, now dropping down even further to where your shirt ended, leaving a strip of your belly exposed above your white panties. The cotton cupped your mound so snuggly that he could see the texture of the dark thatch of hair resting on the base of your pelvis through the fabric. The cellulite on your legs were like the perfect dents for his fingertips to rest and Peter couldn’t imagine how safe and warm your thighs would be around his hips.

“Can you put on some clothes? I can’t concentrate.” Your mouth snapped shut with an audible click and he could practically feel the way your skin blazed with embarrassment. He watched you glance down at your outfit, suddenly becoming self-conscious.

Peter clicked his tongue and with a surge of confidence he didn’t know he had, he strode across the apartment and grabbed you by your wide hips. “I can practically hear your thoughts from here. You’re too damn sexy, it makes me go stupid.”

“You’re not stupid Petey.” You mumbled while doing everything in your power not to make eye-contact. He tutted and gently cupped your chin with his left hand, guiding your face towards him.

“I like it though, princess. It makes me mad sometimes though.”

“Why?” You nuzzled into his hand. Peter smirked and his grip tightened, making you gasp.

“Cause if I go too dumb, who’s going to fuck you even stupider.”

Request: oooooh how about Peter Parker, maybe a roommate au/ best friend? and the prompt going like “Can you put on some clothes? I can’t concentrate.” “I can practically hear your thought from here.” and something ike that? I leave it upto u, but a hate/mean thingy I feel like would rly add to it (as typically Peter would *never*) also fro which Peter- its rly ur choice, but Andrew and tom are my fav (sorry toby baby) ofc its just a request but I hope u do something! I love ur work congrats on 3k! <3 @my-fabulousness-has-arrived

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themultitaskingposer · 1 year

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Natasha: y/n and I are having a baby.

Peter: That's gre-

Natasha: *slamming adoption papers on the table* It's you, sign here.

Y/n: *takes out a camera* smile for the camera baby

Natasha: listen to your mother

#black widow #avengers imagine #marvel fluff #mcu fanfiction #mcu imagine #fluff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #peter parker #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha marvel #natasha romanoff angst #peter parker x y/n #natasha romanoff x f!reader

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mortwig · 1 year

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Flowers In Your Hair

Entry for the amazing’s @wicked-remarks ‘ “Kink or Treat”!

18+ EXPLICIT [minors DNI] - Peter Parker/Spider-man fanfic

Words: 4,8k

Pairing: fem!OC* x Peter Parker (based on TASM!Peter but flexible)

Summary: Flower Shop + Sex Pollen + (kind of) Professional Rivals

Tags: 18+ explicit, mostly strangers to lovers, smut, nudity, vaginal sex, mild praise kink, oral sex (both F and M receiving), no bed in sight, some fluff, all characters are 18+.

Song inspo: Flowers in Your Hair by The Lumineers

Moodboard: here

*[I say OC because it’s written in the third person, but can be read as reader because she uses a codename the whole time and her physical appearance is barely described]

The bell over the door rang for the third time that day, and Peter barely had the energy to look up. It was probably someone “just looking” or a tourist hoping to take some aesthetic shots for their travel log. Slow days like this made him want to close the shop and swing himself far far away from here.

He had been trying for a good hour to focus on the physics problem due for tomorrow evening’s class. Frustrated from the lack of inspiration, he finally looked up to see a young woman admiring the carnations displayed near the door.

“Good morning!” Peter said in his best customer service voice, stifling a yawn. “If you need anything let me know.”

“I will, thank you.” The woman shot him a smile that barely reached her eyes. She seemed focused... Too focused for a simple visit to the flower shop, Peter noticed.

Peter’s tingle rang loudly at the back of his mind, pulling him off his stool. He cleared his throat and casually made his way to the woman.

“They are just beautiful, aren’t they? Those yellow ones arrived only this morning.”

She hummed an approval and took a step away from him, now seemingly inspecting the coloured roses.

“Disappointment.” Peter intended for his tone to be playfully stern, but it turned out harsher than expected. This caused the woman to turn, a mixture of surprise and mild panic taking over her features for a split second, before settling into a controlled expression of confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“Disappointment, rejection. That’s what yellow carnations mean.” Peter smirked, leaning forward as if confiding. “But don’t tell anyone, I don’t think many people buy flowers to express disdain anymore.”

She laughed and took another step away, her hand now on the door handle. The sound of her laugh warmed Peter’s chest, and for a second he forgot he was suspecting her of… of what exactly? Of acting shady in a flower shop?

Come on Peter, get a grip, you’re just sleep deprived from the night patrols. He thought to himself.

“Let’s not give them any ideas.” And with another ring of the bell, she was gone.

Peter stood there for a few moments, taking one last look at the yellow carnations before closing the shop for the day.

It was around 1 am when Peter woke up in a cold sweat. Another nightmare. He got up to get some water. He tried to remember what the dream had been about. It was about work. Conventional work. Flower shop. But also, Spider-man? Carnations. Yellow carnations. The woman looking at the yellow carnations. What was she wearing? Wide-brimmed hat. Red wide-brimmed hat. Like that night about a year ago at the docks. Red wide-brimmed hat amongst diamond smugglers…

Peter’s hand let go of the glass of water he was holding as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place in his brain.

By the time the glass shattered on the floor, he already had half his suit on and was headed towards the window.

It wasn’t often that criminals walked in through the door of the local superhero’s side job, Peter thought to himself. He hoped he wasn’t too late as he dropped down to the ground a few buildings away. Approaching by foot, he didn’t see anyone inside, nor anywhere around him.

In the shop, everything seemed to be in order. He approached the carnations. He thought about the new provider who had brought them. Mrs Hernandez had said they had shown a lot of interest in getting the flowers in the shop as soon as possible. This was nothing new, one would think, in the flower industry. But even Mrs Hernandez, with 50 years in the business, thought their approach was odd. “Muy raros, Peter. But the claveles are beautiful, ¿no?” she’d said.

He was lost in thought when he heard a voice behind him.

“Well well well. If it isn’t our friendly neighbourhood killjoy.”

Peter turned to see the now familiar red hat. The rest of the outfit was now black though, including a black cloth covering her mouth and nose.

“Who would have known the one and only Spider-man had a side gig as a florist.” She gave the keys on the door a jingle. She chuckled as she circled the room to leave Peter between her and the door. A bold move, Peter thought. She really wanted those flowers. Why not just buy them during the day?

“I don’t work here. I just… I keep spare keys for the forgetful neighbours.” Even his tone was unconvinced.

“Yeah, sure. And you just happen to be inspecting the one flower I’m here for because your sixth sense told you to.” She rolled her eyes.

“Maybe…? Who even are you?”

“You can call me Scarlet. Logistics agent. Pleasure to meet you, Spidey.” She held out her hand but he didn’t take it.

“Black market contrabandist, you mean.”

“Depends who’s setting the terms for black and white. I only want to help people have a good time.”

“Right. Well. You seem nice enough, Scarlet, but I’m finding it hard to trust you and I think I’m going to take these flowers to the police and let them work out what could have you so interested in them.”

“I really don’t think you want to do that.”

“And why is that?”

She looked at him intently for a few seconds before responding, she seemed to be weighing her options.

“Listen. I don’t deal drugs, or arms, or blood diamonds, or anything that might hurt people. I just like bringing people pleasure in ways that may be… unconventional… but not harmful. I know we might not always deal on the same side of the law, but we don’t have to be enemies. I’ve been seeing you all over the news, and I know you hold your morals above the law. So if I told you these flowers could be a big problem if handled incorrectly, will you please let me go my own way so I can take them where they won’t be a problem?”

Peter didn’t answer, so Scarlet went on. “Or are we going to have to fight? You’re really too cute to fight.” She was bluffing. She had a fair amount of martial arts training, but she was certainly not skilled enough to take on Spider-man.

“Tell me more about them.” Peter said, and Scarlet wondered if he was just curious.

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“The police it is then.”

“Okay, okay. These are “carnations of life”, they look like common carnations but they hold some very… interesting properties. They grow only on a small island off the coast of Croatia and people all over the world pay exorbitant prices to enjoy the side effects of their pollen. The thing is, they must be transported at night, or else they wither immediately. But it is also during the night that the pollen works its magic. So what I’m going to do is put them in this container that I have in my bag, neither of us is going to breathe for about two minutes while I do it, and then I’ll disappear and we won’t meet again for a while, okay?” She was already opening the lid to the big glass jar and reaching for them.

But Peter moved to intercept, now standing in the narrow space between her and the flowers, almost touching them. “Wait a second. You said you didn’t deal drugs. This sounds a lot like drugs to me.”

“Be careful, Spidey! If you even brush them the pollen will go everywhere and we’ll be in big trouble.”

But Peter didn’t move, Scarlet sighed but didn’t take her eyes off the yellow blooms.

“These give you a temporary high of sorts but are not considered a drug because they are not addictive and they have no side effects past the initial reaction. Because there is a very small production of these flowers worldwide, the people who do know about them are very secretive. I doubt even the NYPD has ever heard of them.”

“Why should I trust anything of what you’re saying?”

“Oh, you shouldn’t… But wouldn’t it be fun if you did?” Peter could see the smirk in her eyes, as she leaned forward to whisper in his ear: “Oh I do wish we could try this pollen together, but I’m afraid the money I’m getting from this transaction is worth way more than a night of fun with Spider-man…”

The words and sensual tone sent a wave of arousal through Peter’s veins, and his eyes went blurry for an instant. Just enough for Scarlet to reach behind him and grab the flowers. They were already in the glass jar when Peter’s tingle kicked in and reflexively swatted the jar out of Scarlet’s hands. He saw everything in slow motion: Scarlet’s panicked eyes, the jar hitting the floor and cracking into four pieces, the carnations flying off into five different directions, the pollen turning glittery with the sudden movement and spreading all around them…

Scarlet knew better, and Peter should have as well, but the sight of the sudden million sparkling specks of dust flying around them made them both gasp in awe. Neither of them had ever seen something so beautiful, so mesmerising. And that one gasp was enough.

“Fuck.” That was all Scarlet managed to say before she felt the rush through her veins.

Peter was already stumbling backwards, gasping further for air as he felt his lungs heat up like embers. He pulled his mask off, asphyxiated. He saw Scarlet taking off her hat, mask and coat, seemingly feeling ablaze as well.

“What’s… what’s going to happen to us…?” Peter managed between heavy breaths.

Scarlet managed to lift one eyebrow and attempted to smirk, but it turned into a pained grimace.

It took about three minutes for the pain to pass. Both of them panted heavily, catching their breaths. But Scarlet got moving quickly, drawing the blinds on the big window shop, making sure they were completely shielded from the outside. She locked the door with Peter’s key, which was still in the lock. Then, she picked up the shards of glass from the floor and put them in the bin behind the counter. With some brown paper, she expertly wrapped the flowers so they were sealed off as well as she could.

Peter felt so rattled he could do nothing but stare, confused. “Was that it?”

Scarlet looked up: “No. I’m just making sure we don’t get hurt, or arrested, or in further trouble really. It’ll kick in any minute now.”

Peter could barely process her words. He could just look at her red-tinted lips moving, the way her hair was all out of place, some locks falling on her face. Her hands moving swiftly, red nails softly scratching the counter’s surface as she put away everything that was in her way. Dazed, he looked down in horror to realise he wasn’t just aroused, he was completely hard under his suit, which was oppressing him in a way he’d never experienced before.

“Oh.” The pollen clearly had an effect on his reflexes as well because it took him a good minute to process what was going on. By then, Scarlet was in front of him, reaching for his neck and pulling him down into a deep kiss.

What had been confusion and delayed reactions instantly snapped into a desperate need to have her there and then.

Peter quickly undid his suit and peeled it off, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

Scarlet did the same with her clothes, now standing in front of Peter in a lacey red underwear set. She couldn’t help but stare at his toned figure, and Peter’s breath hitched at her beautiful form.

“This is very wrong.” He said, his hands already running up and down her sides, his dick pressing against her hip as he pulled her in close. “Is there another way of stopping it?” His words were coming out on autopilot, some better part of him subconsciously trying to do what was right. But his body was betraying him with every passing second, and his brain felt foggy with an overarching desire that engulfed every thought he had and tinted it deep red with passion. And he could not stop it even if he was really trying to. At least he was pretty sure he was trying.

Scarlet, on the other hand, was surprised, to say the least. This was her first time exposed to love carnations, but from what she’d heard, and from her own impulses at that very moment, it was basically impossible to question your actions under its effect. The superhero’s morals really were strong as steel.

“Not that I know of.” She managed, between gasps as he sucked and bit and kissed a trail down from her chin to her collarbone. Her hands were firmly anchored to his hair in a desperate attempt to keep the balance her legs were refusing to offer.

“And you’re okay with this?” He pulled away briefly to seek assurance in her eyes as much as her words.

“Yes, please, Peter, I need this.”

Peter stilled, confused as to how she knew his real name. Panic caused a new burn of adrenaline through his veins. His face must have shown it clearly, because Scarlet lifted an eyebrow, a cocky grin across her face, and simply said: “You had a very cute nametag on this morning”.

Some kind of relative relief allowed Peter to relax slightly. “Attentive to detail. Check.” He pointed out.

“It’s part of the job, what can I say.” She shrugged and tossed her hair back dramatically.

“Yeah? Well, part of my job is helping people in need. So let’s get to it.”

And with that, his arms circled her waist and he lifted her up. With her legs wrapped around his torso, and her hips grinding against his hardness, Peter’s vision blurred for a few seconds, consumed by desire now that he had the green light he needed to enjoy this.

Coming to his senses, as much as he was able to under the influence of that damn flower, he unclipped Scarlet’s bra with one hand, while the other tentatively kneaded her ass.

The moan she stifled against his neck spurred him on. He moved towards the back corner of the shop. Hidden under an intricate display of dried flowers, was a sofa. Once a luscious shade of green velvet, it was now faded and worn out, but it would have to do. With one arm, Peter pushed away the dried flowers, leaving behind a trail of petals and leaves which gave the sofa a new colourful covering.

He gently put Scarlet down on it, then quickly removed his boxers. Scarlet’s mouth opened slightly at the sight of Peter’s dick. But he didn’t notice because he was already pushing aside her panties, and diving his tongue into her wet core. After a few circles around her clit, Scarlet was a moaning mess, sprawled on the flower-covered sofa, one hand on the armrest and one intertwined in Peter’s hair. She didn’t even notice the roughness of the dried leaves still covering the sofa, lightly scratching her skin, or the colourful petals finding their way into the locks of her hair.

Peter’s index finger gently teased her entrance while his tongue continued to work at his clit.

“Peter, please…”

“Please what, pretty girl?”

“Please don’t stop.”

And he didn’t. His finger went into her smoothly, her arousal providing enough lubricant for Peter’s middle finger to follow shortly after.

Peter’s mouth suddenly covered her whole clit and sucked, tongue still teasing her. At the same time, his fingers curled, hitting her G-spot just at the right time to send her spiralling.

Whether it was Peter’s skill or the pollen’s effects, or both, the orgasm that hit her was nothing like she’d ever experienced before. Peter’s hand carried her through it all, until she was panting and pulling at his hair. He kissed her gently, his breath heavy.

“Tired already, Spidey?”

“No, just extremely turned on right now. So if you don’t mind…?” He held his dick in his hand, his tip stroking her sensitive clit.

“I do not.” She smirked through her hazed expression. He entered her with one smooth slow stroke, stretching her and filling her up deliciously. She moaned at the feeling.

“You make such lovely sounds for me.” He started with slow strokes, letting her adjust to his size and slowly prepping her up for her second orgasm. When she started lifting her hips to meet his thrusts, he caught the hint and started picking up the pace. Her hands travelled up and down his chest, up to stroke his hair, and down his arms, tense from hovering above her on the sofa. His grunts were getting louder by the minute, and she could feel him getting close.

But he had other ideas in mind, so he picked her up swiftly and bent her over the armrest, her hands clutching at the old velvet while her legs opened for him. He pushed a hand between her hips and the sofa, his fingers expertly applying the right amount of pressure to her throbbing clit. He entered her once more, the new angle letting him hit her sweet spot every stroke without fail.

She gasped as she felt the wave of pleasure about to hit her.

“That’s it, come for me, sweet thing. You’re doing so good for me.” The praise was enough to send her over the edge, and her muscles spasmed around his dick. A few more strokes and he was pulling out, his cum spurting onto her back.

He pinned his hands at either side of her on the sofa, panting into her ear. They stayed there for a few minutes, catching their breath.

“Don’t move, I’ll be right back.” he whispered softly, before kissing the back of her neck.

About a minute later, she felt him gently wipe her back with soft tissue.

“Thank you.” She said quietly.

“Is that it, then?” Although he tried hard to hide it, Peter sounded almost disappointed.

She turned around, plopping down on the sofa and making herself comfortable.

“From what I hear, it comes and goes in waves. The effects can last anywhere between 2 and 6 hours.”

His face remained serious, but Scarlet thought she saw a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Better rest up before it hits again then.” He said, lying down beside her, his arm lifted up above his head tentatively. She raised her head and he put down his arm for her to rest on. He stroked her hair softly, admiring the contrast of the dried flowers against her now messy hair.

He smiled to himself. This was all so wrong, but it felt so good.

Scarlet didn’t know how long she’d slept for. But it was still dark outside and Peter was not cuddling her anymore. She felt odd. When she moved, she worked out why. She was soaking wet between her legs. She blinked a few times, trying to come to terms with her sudden arousal. She looked up to see Peter leaning against the counter. He must have not noticed her sit up, because he didn’t react. When her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw why. He was slowly stroking his dick in his hand, eyes closed and head thrown back.

She slowly approached him. He was so entranced he only opened his eyes when she was standing in front of him and whispered: “Do you need some help with that?”

She dropped to her knees in front of him, replacing his hand with hers. He said nothing, just looked at her with pure adoration and nodded.

“Fuck.” Was all he could muster when she teased his tip with her tongue, her right hand moving up and down his length.

Slowly, she took him in his mouth, her hands moving to hold his thighs for balance and leverage. She started bobbing her head, hesitantly at first, but with more confidence when Peter started moaning and gripping hard at the counter’s edge. She couldn’t quite get his whole length in her mouth, though she tried to, so she focused on using her tongue to find his sensitive spots instead. It must have worked, because shortly after, Peter roughly grabbed her hair and pulled her away. “Careful, sweet thing, or you’re going to end up with a salty tongue…”

“But what if I want to?” She pouted at him playfully.

He gulped, clearly having to restrain himself from shoving his dick back in her mouth. His hand pulled her hair back a bit more so her neck was exposed to him. “Maybe another time. But I’m stretching this out as much as possible.”

He tugged at her hair so she stood up. He picked her up and sat her on the counter. One stroke of his fingers over her entrance revealed her wetness to him. So this time, he didn’t even wait for confirmation. He went in immediately and his fast, shallow strokes caught her breath. She held on to the nape of his neck, panting heavily straight into his ear.

“Peter, you feel so good. Don’t stop. Yeah, right there. Shit.”

Sucking him off must have turned her on more than she realised, because before she knew it she was biting into his shoulder to stifle her moans, and her body went limp against his firm chest while he fucked her through her orgasm.

He slowed down, pumping long and deep into her while she caught her breath.

“Can you do that thing again?” she whispered, hazily, avoiding eye contact.

“Do what again?” he was clearly distracted, his eyes focused on the point where their bodies met, soft wet noises mixed with their heavy breaths.

“Bend me over and fuck me from behind?” this brought back his attention, finally noticing the embarrassment on her face. This was the first time she’d looked insecure. He thought about teasing her, but being honest to himself, it turned him on even more (if that was even possible) and he loved that she was making suggestions.

“With pleasure, sweet thing.”

Scarlet was once again impressed by Peter’s ability to move her around effortlessly and with extreme care. She realised, if he wanted to, he could really hurt her. An odd warm feeling rose from her stomach up to her chest. She tried to shut it off, but she knew exactly what it was. How rare was it to find a guy who wouldn’t go straight for his own pleasure, even despite a feeble attempt at foreplay? Maybe losing tonight’s deal was not so bad… Maybe a night with Spiderman really was worth it...

The thought vaporised into thin air when Peter entered her, hitting that critical spot again. Her recent orgasm had everything feeling extra sensitive, so it almost felt like she was thrown straight into the rollercoaster of pleasure again. She moaned louder than she intended to, her nails digging into the edge of the counter, her toes barely touching the floor. Peter’s hands had been traveling up and down her back, stroking the sensitive skin on her sides: from the side of her breasts down to her waist and her hips. But now, he was holding her ass cheeks apart, and from the low moan that escaped his lips, Scarlet could just assume he was enjoying the view. His thrusts were getting sloppy, so she gently squeezed her walls around him. He huffed loudly, his hands landing roughly at either side of her on the counter.

“You certainly know what you’re doing.” He breathed into her ear.

“Whatever could you mean by that?” She tried batting her eyelashes, but all she managed was a hint of an innocent smile. At the same time, she squeezed again, and pushed her ass back into him, catching him off-guard.

“You fucking tease.” He tried to laugh but it came out as a breathy moan instead. A few more thrusts and he was collapsing on her again.

Scarlet woke up suddenly, gasping for air. She felt disoriented, but faint sunrise light came through the shut blinds which helped her get her bearings quickly. Peter was behind the counter, holding a mug. The smell of fresh coffee, mixed with the scent of the flowers that surrounded her both on the sofa and all over the floor, was positively intoxicating… Albeit in a more subtle way than the yellow carnations still sitting on top of the register, neatly packed away.

“Hey, you okay?” He was walking towards her, looking concerned. His Spiderman suit was on up to his waist, the top half hanging loosely over his hips.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Scarlet rubbed her eyes and yawned. When he sat next to her, he offered her her clothes, which he must have picked up from around the shop.

“Are you feeling better?” There was something in his eyes as he said so that she could not decipher.

“Better… I think so, yes.” Her tone was unconvinced, but she didn’t know why. She did feel better. Although the sight of Peter’s bare chest was still sending a tingling to her core, and looking into his chocolate-brown eyes felt like shaking a jar of butterflies in her stomach. Although, for the latter, she doubted it even had anything to do with the carnations.

“I’m just… very tired.” She stifled another yawn, trying to think of a good excuse to call in sick to work.

She started putting on her underwear. She giggled softly when she noticed Peter was entranced looking at her, now clad in red lace. Peter’s eyes widened and then looked away when he realised what he was doing. He cleared his throat awkwardly while making his way to the counter quickly. Scarlet caught a glimpse of what must have been quite an uncomfortable erection, but Peter said nothing.

“Coffee?” he asked casually, but he was still not looking in her general direction.

“No, thank you, I think I’ll go straight to bed.”

“That sounds very sensible. I’m jealous, Mrs Hernandez expects the shop open at 9 am sharp and the only good enough excuse for her is death.”

Scarlet was honestly surprised. She really thought Peter would try again, to get it out of his system. He was obviously still under the influence of the carnations. Even if it hadn’t been visually evident, she could feel it still running through her own veins. And she’d given him the green light last night already. However, ever the perfect gentleman, he was doing his best to act normal.

“I need to go home, have a shower, get some clothes appropriate for shop keeping, you know… Do you want me to drop you off somewhere?”

“Drop me off…?”

“I can swing you home if you want.”

“Wow, Spidey… Are you trying to find out my address?” she smiled teasingly, adjusting her hat in place.

“What? No, no. Not at all. I could call you a cab?” He was fiddling with his mug anxiously. Against her will, she thought it was terribly endearing.

“I can make my way home. Thank you anyway. You can ask for my number though, if you want to.” She batted her eyelashes playfully.

Peter still hesitated.

“It feels wrong, what with you being a criminal and all.”

“Depends what your definition of “criminal” is, Mr Vigilante.”

“Please tell me you don’t read that Daily Bugle crap. It’s all lies, you know?”

Scarlet laughed at Peter’s disgusted face. The sound filled the flower shop, sweetening the already scent-charged room. Peter couldn’t help but smile, and the sight warmed Scarlet’s chest. She slipped a card from her pocket and placed it on the counter.

“I can give you intel that will help you take down real criminals if you give me leeway to continue my harmless operations.” She leaned over the counter to kiss his cheek, and before Peter could react, she was already by the door, carnations under her arm, smiling back at him. “And you can also take me out to dinner.”

Peter’s hand lightly touched his cheek, where her lips had been, lost in thought for a few moments. He was brought back to the present by his phone alarm, reminding him he had to get home quickly if he didn’t want to face his boss’ wrath.

He was swinging just a few streets away when he saw her, walking with purpose towards a subway station. He swung low, taking advantage of the still fairly empty streets and passed mere centimetres away from her.

“You still have flowers in your hair!” He shouted, tossing a lock of her hair back. Her startled jump almost sent her into orbit, and Peter couldn’t help but laugh. What a shame he couldn’t hear her most-likely angry response. Here was to hoping she’d forgive him once she read his text:

7 pm Friday - Moondance Diner? Strictly (un)professional.

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