#tasm!spiderman x you

[venus616]

Hi!! Requesting a spicy tasm!peter fic where he puts his photography skills to use if ya know what I mean 🔥🫶🏽

his muse; {p.p.}

Pairing: peter parker x f!reader (gif is tasm but you can interpret this as any peter parker)

Summary: peter puts his photography skills to use when you're naked

Warnings: established relationship, smut, vaginal fingering/sex, oral sex (blowjob), praise kink (if you squint), photos during sex, language, unprotected sex, 18+, NSFW

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: hi. i love this trope So Much… like more than you will ever know, but bc i love it and i’ve seen it done multiple times with peter i was very scared to even do anything with it sjnksks but here is my finished product, i hope you like it~

(Also- it is my gift to anyone who actually likes reading my content bc ive been gone for a While and will be gone for another 2-3 weeks bc finals are not fun! so i hope this is good, enjoy!)

You’re putting away your shared laundry when you hear a loud noise on your window sill. You don’t even flinch this far into your relationship and only shake your head, separating your clothes from his. The window opens letting in a cool breeze and Peter’s book bag hits the ground before he gets inside. 

It's only then you look and give his body, clad in his suit, a scan and smile. “You okay?” You ask. The sun already set and the crisp winter air started to fill the room. 

He scoffs before shutting the window. You turn your body around from the basket in front of you to see Peter shaking his head while taking his camera out of his bag.

The professional camera Peter spent a year saving up for when he was 18 was sat next to your much less efficient Polaroid camera. On it, there was a photo of you two celebrating your anniversary together recently. The flash showing you kissing Peter on the cheek, he’s blushing at the attention and eyes closed from the flash. 

Peter smiled at the memory before he continued speaking. 

“Why do people think it’s okay to commit crime when I’m just getting off my shift?” He sighed before setting down his bag next to your bed.

“They’re so inconsiderate,” You pout playfully while folding his clothes into his reserved drawer at your place.

Peter looks up from unpacking and focuses on your ass poking up from your position. You feel his eyes on you as your t-shirt hangs loosely on your body, and the hair on your legs prick up from the cold in the room.

Peter takes off his mask revealing his disheveled hair and takes in the sight of you like it’s his last.

Your lacy underwear decorating the plump flesh of your butt, reminding Peter of how quickly he had to leave this morning before getting to appreciate for bandaging him up last night.

His eyes continued to scan up, seeing the old t-shirt frame your shape, admiring it as if he had x-ray vision.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Peter is brought out of his thoughts hearing your soft voice, taunting him for his staring problem.

“Don’t tempt me,” Peter quips back. He shakes his head before tossing his mask in your empty hamper. Sitting on your bed and bending over to remove his boots, his ears don’t miss your footsteps as you saunter to him.

You place your feet in between his while he looks back up to you, removing the rest of his suit. 

“It’s never stopped you before,” You cross your arms while he slips out of his suit, leaving his web shooters on. The suit is strewn across the floor and your eyes focus on Peter’s body. 

No matter how beat up he was, Peter remains to be the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You ran your hands over his, now, yellow ribs. Compared to the purple constellation he had yesterday, you were grateful for his superhuman healing. 

He had a nasty fall yesterday, left with some scars and bruising, but thankfully this time you didn’t have to stitch him up. 

You even notice the scratch on his arm is almost gone but Peter liked wearing your special bandaids. He likes giving you a reason to buy more cartoon ones for him. 

Peter watches your eyes carefully scan his body for anything else and adores you for it. Still, he hates making you worry.

“You weren’t naked before.”

A smile creeps up on your face, a giggle disguised as a scoff when you answer: “I’m not naked.”

You don’t realize you set yourself up for Peter’s response until he smirks. His hands snake up underneath your shirt to toy with your nipples, already hard because of the cold air lingering in the room. 

A hiss escapes your mouth at feeling his larger, colder hands grip your boobs. Peter slightly grins at his effect on you. He pulls at the bottom of your shirt before raising it up your body. You oblige, pulling it over your head to toss it across your room.

His face lit up at your frontal nudity, hands placed on either side of your hips tugging at your underwear. 

“Let’s change that.” 

You roll your eyes at his response, but not without a smile plastered on your face. You could feel the heat pooling in between your thighs and the excitement in your stomach. 

“What position should I be in?” You shudder under his callus fingers. Peter lightly furrows his eyebrows when you turn, gesturing to your polaroid camera from your bedside table. 

His face relaxes when he registers what you guys are doing, not realizing how serious you were being. 

Your eyes flicker up and down his body when you turn to face him, noticing his erection bulging out of his briefs. Leaning down you use your hand to palm him through the fabric, feeling his cock pulsate in your hand.

“On your knees,” You whip your head up when Peter says that, his hands still roaming around your body. 

You quirk your eyebrow up in response. Pressing your forehead and nose to his, you plant a kiss onto his lips. Your hands are now on either of his thighs, sinking lower onto the ground as the kiss deepens. 

Before you can fully get down, you hear a light thwip and break the kiss. 

You see Peter’s wrist is flicked out with his web shooters activated, latched on to your polaroid camera. There’s a glint of mischief in his eyes before he pulls it into his hands.

Resting on your knees, you’re before him with your fingers tracing the waistband of his boxers. You carefully watch for his reactions, but he’s refamiliarizing himself with your flimsy camera you got in your teenage years as a novelty.

You cross your arms on his legs and look up at him, the camera points at you and all you can focus on is his wide smile behind the camera. “Let’s see if I still know how this works,” Peter jokes.  

You repose with both your hands on your knees, pushing your breasts out in between your arms. You didn’t realize they were hardly the focus of the photo (but still included, Peter was only human after all). 

The photo snaps and you remember you have to get used to the flash again. Blinking a few times to get used to the discomfort, the photo prints out and Peter seems pleased with himself already. 

“It hasn’t even developed yet,” You taunt, you resume palming him as you assume that was the extent of his practice shots. 

Peter shrugs while shaking the photo as gently as possible. “Hey, who’s the photographer here? I know a good subject when I see it,” He nudges you. 

When the photo barely develops, he shows you and you see yourself: half naked on your knees with your face fully in the photo. You were surprised he included that much of your face, and managed to catch you looking as confident as you could. But it was easy when Peter was behind the camera, he never fails to make you feel like his only muse. 

You blush and look away from the photo as you continue to massage him. Peter’s breath hitches at the rate at which you go at, and you smirk to yourself. 

No matter how much control Peter took in bed, he wasn’t afraid to show you how quickly he’d fold for you. It was one of the many things you appreciated about him. Another one was just how vocal he was, his whimpers before you even got to touch him were making your underwear dampen. 

When his dick starts twitching, you pull his boxers down, his cock slaps up to his stomach while he watches your movements. Locking eyes with him, you wrap both your hands around his shaft before slowly jacking him off. 

You’re mesmerized by the way his body is flexed under your touch, you almost don’t hear what he says. 

“Your mouth,” He breathes out. 

You sit up higher on your knees and kiss up his happy trail, lingering when you get closer to his cock. You hear his groan and look up, meeting his eyes.

You raise your eyebrows. “My mouth, what?” 

Your lips quirk up again, teasing him. “Use your words.” 

He rolls his eyes in response but you shake your head.  “I can stop,” You remind him. 

His brown eyes almost bulge out his head when you say that, wrapping his own hand over yours to stop your movements from pausing. He leans over to get closer to your face, the scent of you surrounding him. Peter’s face softens at your smugness. 

“Baby,” He starts. You wait to listen to how he pleads for you to stay while he leads your hands.  

“I need that pretty mouth of yours to suck my cock,” He gasps out and removes his hand when you loosen your wrist in response. Your eyes soften at the praise and Peter mentally celebrates when he leans back to his original position. 

You reposition yourself as well, with your neck getting to work as you lick a stripe underneath the shaft of his cock. Peter sharply inhales at the feeling and brings his head back up. 

You lock eyes with him when you feel the jolt in his body and open your mouth in an ‘O’ shape around the head of his cock. 

Relaxing your throat, you lower your head on his length and feel the tip of his cock hitting your uvula before you begin bobbing your head. 

Caught off guard, you could taste the saltiness of his precum on your tongue now. You gagged a bit and popped off him to lick it off in the most obscene way you could think of. 

Peter mutters, “Just like that.” and you look up. 

Forgetting he had a camera, the shutter went off to capture your tongue on the underside of his wet tip. 

You collect more saliva in your mouth while you run your hand up and down his shaft. Feeling prepared enough, you go back down on him with the drool dripping on his cock on your hands. 

Peter went crazy at the heat of your mouth and the sight of your lips around him. The only thought he had was to get the camera out again to keep this moment forever.

Getting slack jawed at this, he tangles his hands in your hair but doesn’t change your pace. He only starts pushing it out of your face as it gets in the way. 

You look up at him and see Peter pointing the camera at you as you have half his cock in your mouth. The first shot is taken, and he tries to not move too much as the photo prints out immediately.  He releases a few breathy moans at the pace you're going at while he places the new photo on the side. 

Peter silently gestures to you to get him out your mouth so you release him with a pop, flipping your hair to the side as you continue to jack him off.

“That’s good,” He mutters, when he places the camera at his eye before snapping a new photo. 

“I probably look insane,” You grumble, already feeling self conscious at how messy your hair looks, coupled alongside the drool and precum at your mouth. 

Peter shakes his head and pulls you in closer by your waist and you yelp, finding yourself now pinned under him on the bed. 

“Never,” He shakes his head, attaching his mouth to your tit as he pulls your underwear off. You immediately moan at his aggression on your sensitive nipples and he chuckles against your skin when he feels you flinch. 

Peter’s calloused hands find your clit and start massaging it, and you throw your head back in pleasure when he finds his rhythm. 

You feel a twinge of disappointment when he removes his mouth from your tits but you look up to see the camera watching you, and a shutter going off before you are even ready.

“Pete,” You warn. Your sternness doesn’t last when he slips in a finger in your embarrassingly wet cunt. You almost mewl at how full he makes you with just one finger. 

“You looked so pretty moaning like that,” Peter explains while his finger curls into you. He knew what he was doing when he smiled again, leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

Your annoyance was no match for his desperation as you eventually gave in. One of his hands cupped your cheek while his lips were frantic on yours. He’s greedy for you, almost lapping up your tongue with his own before he pulls away. 

“Just let go, forget the camera is even there,” He mumbles in your neck when you gasp at the absence of his lips. 

He slips in another finger and thrusts faster, making you nod mindlessly as you surrender all control.You grip onto his bicep as he pumps in and out of you, begging him for more friction. You can hear how wet you were, and while you were embarrassed, Peter relished in it. 

“Can you take a third for me baby?” He asks in a low voice as he sits up on the bed in between your legs. You nod vigorously but he quickly removes both fingers.

You open your mouth to complain but instead yelp out when Peter pulls both your legs closer to his chest as he kneels on the mattress. He set aside the camera briefly. 

“Yeah?” He searches for an answer.

“Yes,” You grunt out, already desperate for much more than his fingers. 

He massages your heat with his fingers again before he inserts three fingers in, jolting your body to sit up. You let out an obscene moan and couldn’t help but to massage your clit while he fucks you with his fingers. 

One hand being in competition with Peter’s while the other massages your boobs, you’re almost too dazed to notice the shutter then went off while you were closer to an orgasm.

“Fucking incredible,” Peter breathes out before putting the camera with the new photo down, and leans down to kiss you. His pace never falters, making you whimper against his lips. 

“I’m about to cum,” You announce shakily. Peter swallows your pleas with a kiss and just curls his fingers against your g-spot faster. You feel that familiar build up in the pit of your stomach and the pace of your clenching pick up. 

“Cum all over my fingers baby,” He answers, and you immediately let go. You hold Peter closer as you cum, heaving underneath him like you’re in heat. Your body Peter continues to finger you but only because he loves the way you suction around him. 

He still lets you come down from your high, kissing you through it and massaging your breasts with his free hand during. When your breathing slows down, he sits back up and removes his fingers from you. 

“Need you inside of me,” You remind him as you reach over to palm his already hard cock against his stomach.

“Gonna let me cum inside of you?” He asks, holding his cock in his hand already glistening with your wetness. He readjusts to line himself up to your pussy awaiting your answer.

You cock your head with your arms supporting your body from the bed. “I’ll let you cum wherever you want,” You say. 

Peter grunts at your answer before inserting himself into your entrance, and immediately throws his head back at the feeling, your warmth and wetness engulfing him. 

“So fucking tight,” He comments, and you silently agree as you feel yourself stretching out on him. Your eyes fluttered shut as you clenched around him. 

“Fuck,” you moan out as he finds a comfortable pace for the both of you. 

Or that’s what you thought. 

You hear a shutter from your camera and realize he took a picture (or two) of you in this position beneath him, moaning out for him flat on the bed with his cock inside of you. 

You didn’t have time to care as when he got his shots he immediately started to rock into you, and you felt the strength of him against your thighs before he picked up the pace. 

You watch him thrust into you and slowly lose himself above you.

“I love the way you feel around me,” He pants out, closing in on your body with his forearms framing your face. You nod as the bed squeaks and your hands roam his body, stopping at his shoulders and the nape of his neck. 

Peter obliges to your physical demands and dips down to suck on your neck, causing you to whimper as your body continues to jolt from his thrusts. His soft brown hair tickles your skin as his teeth chew at the sensitive skin in your neck. You don’t know whether to giggle or moan, but you’re vocal regardless. 

“Go faster,” You whine, becoming impatient with him. 

“I’m not gonna last if I go faster,” He growls against your skin, sending vibrations down your spine. He thrusted slower, bringing his hand down to the back of your knee to bend it closer to your body. You felt him hitting your g-spot repeatedly that you knew you weren’t going to last any longer like that. 

“I don’t care,” You cry out. Peter scoffs in your neck as if to say a begrudging ‘Fine.’ and kisses you on the cheek before kneeling back up. He’s already twitching inside you before he begins thrusting again. You almost forget what you got yourself into until you feel his balls slap against your cunt repeatedly. 

A string of curses escape both your mouths, yours because he’s just so big and you can feel the tension build up in your stomach again. Peter’s cusses are because you just won’t stop clenching around him in response, he feels like he might burst the next time you tighten around him. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck,” He mutters before spilling into you. 

You go slack jawed at the feeling of him cumming inside of you. It feels hot between your thighs, in between the burning feeling of his hard thighs slapping against your softer ones, and feeling him twitch and coat your insides and the outside of your cunt with his load. 

You cry out as he almost slips out of you, but realize he’s gonna take another picture. You’re not sure what to do, or what exactly he’s capturing but you decide to listen to his earlier advice and let it happen. Peter places the camera on his eye while his cock almost goes soft half away inside of you, and you can feel him rubbing his cum around your thighs and up your hips. 

He mutters another curse, before snapping the picture. You close your eyes and your legs when you decide that that was the last photo and miss how Peter compiles all of them on your bedside table. 

Eventually, you look up and see him pulling back up his underwear and beckoning you to see the photos. When you get up and see 6 photos lined up from tonight. 

One of you on your knees, your breasts protruding and almost being the main focus of the photo if it wasn't for your face. You want to laugh at how excited your eyes looked but you know it was only because of who was behind the camera. 

Two more during and after the blowjob, one of you in the middle taking Peter in your mouth and giving the camera (but really, Peter) siren eyes. The other was you slightly disheveled, but Peter swore you were the prettiest girl in the world with drool around your mouth.

A third of you being fingered, your head is thrown back in unfiltered pleasure from his fingers, your breasts sitting high on your chest as you’re on your back and your nipples were glistening in the photo due to the suckling that happened off camera. While scanning this photo, you realize that being caught in the moment wasn’t such a bad thing and Peter is silently celebrating he caught your O face in action. 

The fourth was similar but you had more control over your pleasure as you’re on camera massaging your breasts and hand on your pussy. You feel like a vixen with the way you’re fondling yourself, Peter silently agrees as he knows you look like one. 

Fifth and sixth photo show the before and after of Peter fucking you senseless. Fifth with your body being still underneath his, and the photo displaying that exhilarating feeling you both get when your bodies meet in the first thrust. And the sixth photo when you’re both comfortable enough to come down from your high together. The sticky, white cum is slayed over your sopping, wet pussy and Peter’s fingers and cock in the frame to remind you who fucks you like this. 

“Do you like these? I can burn them away if you don’t,” Peter runs his hands through his hair nervously, not trying to make you uncomfortable if the bit had gone too far. 

You only shake your head with a laugh bubbling in your throat at his consideration and hug his much taller frame from behind. It felt good to rest your head on his back, while his arms engulf yours from the front. 

“I love them, I love you,” You speak low but loudly enough so he can hear, and feel, your words. 

“Which ones do you want to keep?” He asks. 

You know it’s out of courtesy, just one of those things you two got used to asking each other after taking pictures on this camera. You kept the silly anniversary photo while he kept the very nice one he took of you. 

“It’s all for you,” You answer. Peter sputters quickly, turning back around to see your face when you say it, you only nod in full seriousness. 

He leans down to kiss your cheek as a thank you and you only smile back. 

“I think you’d get more use out of it than me,” You add with a tinge of humor. Peter only plays it off with another suggestion while hugging you from the front. His arms wrap around your shoulders while you rest your head in the crook of his neck. 

“You know what though?” He asks, trailing his hands down to your naked hips, stopping to cup the round of your ass. 

“What?” You mutter in his hold, already feeling your body heat up at the thought of round 2. 

Peter smirks before snaking one of his hands to your pussy. Knowing that you’re about to start throbbing, at the thought of him. You gasp before he speaks and he chuckles while he proposes his new idea. 

“I think it’s only fair if we make a movie now.”

[astermath]

uhmmmm

kitchen counter makeouts with pookie bear tasm peter <3

— @inkluvs (ivy)

the way you know damn well you are indulging me adjdkdk and I love you for it bae MWAH @inkluvs

pairing: tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

tags: just sweet ol fluff, established relationship, first time writing for peter, normal sized text under the cut! <3

word count: 1.2.K

let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further peter parker related content!

With Peter going on patrol until the nightly hours, you'd become used to cooking dinner later in the day. It wasn't a huge deal; you worked from home, and you were usually up when he was back anyways. Whether it was to tend to his injuries, hear about what he'd encountered that day, or just to cook some of his favorite pasta, you were always there for him when he returned. And he really appreciated that.

When you're a superhero, especially an anonymous one, it can be hard to find people to fall back on. That's why he considers having you one of his greatest strengths.

You're absentmindedly stirring some sauce when your boyfriend slips in through the bedroom window. He calls it the "spider-door", you call it a bad habit. He still uses it anyways. It's hard to use the front door of your apartment when you're dressed like the city's most popular vigilante.

He can smell the delicious mix of herbs and ingredients from the other room. The stress from the day was already melting off him, and he hadn't even spoken to you yet. He'd taken the liberty of slipping out of his suit and into a comfortable pair of sweats and a shirt. Although he did think it was snazzy, after wearing it almost the entire day, he couldn't wait to be out of it.

A pair of familiar strong arms wind around your waist, an even more familiar pair of lips pressing a soft kiss to the crook of your neck. You're used to it by now, the unexpected, sneaky greetings late at night. You weren't spooked by him, you rarely were. He likes to think his spidey senses have rubbed off on you.

He breathes in the scent of you, cheek resting onto your shoulder, and you can feel him relax into you.

"Good to see you too baby," you move your head to press a chaste kiss to his head, "how was patrol?"

"Fine," he sounds tired, and it's kind of hot, "stopped that coffee shop you like from being broken into."

"My hero," you chuckle, "now I won't have to miss those delicious chocolate croissants."

He whines lowly in response. It's a stark contrast to how he usually is, all talkative, giddy, boyish grins and jokes, bubbly laughter and strong hugs. Being a superhero will do that to you. Not exactly change you, just tire you out. A lot.

"Tired?" You ask, eyes remaining on the sauce you were preparing. It was a dumb question, of course he's tired, but he always hated admitting it.

To your surprise, he doesn't respond. Instead, he leans down and starts pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder again. You silently thank your past self for wearing a tank top, so he had plenty of access to your skin.

His lips leave tingles in their wake, your sauce becoming less interesting by the second, until you eventually turn around. You sigh at the sound of him; his hair is messy, his eyebags are prominent and he definitely needs a shower, but boy is he pretty. So pretty.

He lets you take a second to admire him, like he knows you love to do. Hands come up to cup his cheeks, the tiniest bit of stubble scratching against your palms. Your face is graced by an adoring smile, and that alone always lets him know; everything's okay, I got you.

He leans down, lips searching yours again. You happily indulge, one hand sneaking into the hair at the back of his neck. The kiss is longing, practically aching to be closer. You can feel how much he missed you just by the way his hips slide over yours.

His hands settle onto your waist, and for a moment you think he's just going to let them stay there. Of course not, because your boyfriend is anything if not unpredictable. With a gentle grip he lifts you up and turns the both of you around, setting you down onto the counter across the stove.

You giggle through the kiss, and you can feel him smile along with you, but he doesn't let go. It's like he can't, and not in a "help I just got spider powers and now I'm glued to you" way, no, like a "I'm so in love with you that I want this to last forever" way.

His hands settle onto your thighs, thumbs rubbing gentle, soothing circles into your skin. It's like this is what recharges him. Not food, not water, this is what he survives on. Your pure unconditional affection.

Unfortunately for the two of you, humans do need air to live, so you're forced to pull away after a while. Still, you remain close, noses rubbing together ever so slightly, foreheads leaning against each other.

“You ‘kay sweetie?” Your voice is gentle, not wanting to ruin the tooth achingly sweet moment the two of you are having.

“Mhm…” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “Just so happy to see you again… I missed you.” he accentuates his words with another kiss. “A lot.”

A warm smile adorns your face when he admits to his longing for you. You know he misses you, he tells you every day, and he knows that the sentiment is returned. You both have your reasons to be missing each other; with Peter being a superhero, he has to be careful, so the reality of any day possibly being his last was… Present. Plus, it’s a busy job. Besides the one he already has.

You just enjoy each other’s presence for a moment, basking in the radiating glow of what could only be described as an aura of love. It was like nothing outside that kitchen mattered anymore, at least not for now. You and Peter against the world, out of your small apartment in Queens.

“Honey?” He asks, and you think he’s going to say something else really sweet and heartwarming to really drive the point home. Until you see the furrow in his brows.

“I think, uh— whatever you were making is burning.”

“Fuck!” You hopped off the counter and went back to the pot of sauce, groaning when you realised the bottom of it was burnt. “It’s fine, I can— I can salvage this.” You looked over at your boyfriend, who had an apologetic smile on his face. “We can make out all you want after I make you dinner, ‘kay?”

“And every day after?” His voice is gentle, his hand resting on your lower back to keep some form of physical contact with you.

“Of course,” you stand on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his cheek, “every day after too.”

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

PREACHERS DAUGHTER- P.B PARKER

Pairing: Best Friend! Peter x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

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

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

based of the album- preachers daughter, by ethel cain

It was mesmerizing- the way his fingers moved. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was so beautiful when he was concentrated. 

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

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

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

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

“Bun?” 

Oh shit, you were staring. 

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

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

Anything was. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angel. 

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

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

Begging for mercy before you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just as you wanted. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn't care enough. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi bunny.”

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

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

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

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

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

You liked it. 

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Mmm sometimes.”

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

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

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

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

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. 

“Peter-” 

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

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

 Never. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He just smiled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

God loves you- but not enough to save you. 

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

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

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

 “Okay. Whatever you want.” 

Silence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bucky and Steve. 

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

Look who decided to visit indeed. 

[literaila]

peter and sad!reader ? anything you want to write about them

at least there’s that

tasm!peter x reader

warnings: sad reader, annoyingly happy peter

*

peter’s lingering in the kitchen. you know this because you can feel him, the same way you feel it when you’re forgetting something, or when you wake up late and immediately know it.

and because you can always feel him—not that you’ll admit it—even if he’s not here.

but tonight he’s actually lingering. literally sitting with his back against the wall, trying to pretend like there’s something important you’re supposed to be telling him.

“are you sure you trust me enough to pick?” he asks, for probably the seventh time.

“yes, peter.”

“i might pick a youtube video of cool spider-man clips.”

“i’ll watch it.”

“really?” he’s closer now, sneaking towards you like you can’t tell. his aura is impending.

you turn towards him with a fake smile. “with my eyes closed, obviously.”

“obviously.”

this might be the end of this discussion—because peter was supposed to be picking a movie while you compiled the snacks, five minutes ago—but it never is with him.

“are you sure that you’re sure?”

“go, peter. you’re scaring the popcorn.” you mutter, no effort in the joke. but you mean it when you tell him to leave.

you just want to be alone for a minute.

he must sense this in your tone, because he finally says “okay, okay” with his hands up and leaves the room.

you feel guilty for the way you slouch as soon as his absence is apparent.

you wanted this, you think, this time with him. but now that you have it, it’s nothing like you expected.

you’d wanted to be in a good mood. to quip with him and laugh into his mouth at some funny movie. to throw popcorn at each other. to tackle him and stay there for the rest of the night.

instead, you’re kind of hoping that you fall asleep ten minutes into the movie. kind of hoping that he gives up and goes home for the night.

which is ridiculous, because really you just want to tether yourself to him. skin to skin, eye to eye.

but you don’t want to drag him down, so it’s probably best if he just leaves.

you lean against the counter, rubbing your eyes. you’re not going to tell peter any of this, obviously, because he’ll try to fix it like the sweet guy he is.

but there’s nothing to fix. just you in this kitchen, all alone.

the microwave beeps, the popcorn ready. the assortment of weird sodas the peter brought over have been equally divided into your best glasses. the candy peter also brought in fancy little bowls. it’s all ready.

just waiting on you now.

peter must think the same, because he calls from the other room. “babe! what about up?”

“nothing that’s going to make me cry please.” you walk into the room then, trying not to seem suspicious.

“‘oh yes, peter, i trust you to pick the movie.’” he grumbles, doing a terrible impression of you.

“there’s ground rules.”

he smiles over at you, jumping up. “do you need help?”

“no, peter,” you shoo him away, even as he takes the popcorn bowl from him. “did you pick a movie?”

“yes.”

you nod, sitting down next to him so that your thighs are touching. but you sit back before he can put an arm around you. “what?”

“i thought you trusted me,” you glance at him, his eyes wide, and a ridiculous pout. “close your eyes.”

you sigh. “really?”

“yes. lest you doubt me.”

you do close your eyes, and feel that tearing in your chest. some type of exhaustion that’s excluded from medical books. that kind that makes you want to crawl into your room and cling to your bed like an antidepressant.

the movie begins playing, dramatic opening music filling your living room. but you don’t open your eyes.

just one more minute.

peter nudges you. “did you fall asleep?” he asks you, amused.

it takes a moment but you open your eyes, coming face to face with him and his squinted eyes. “no, sorry.”

“are you tired?”

“i’m excited for this movie,” you correct, unenthusiastically. “un-pause it.”

peter looks dubious but he does as you ask, still looking at you as you watch the rolling credits.

after a minute of this you sigh. “why are you staring at me.”

“somethings wrong.”

“you chose the movie.”

“with you.”

you look at him, with his brow furrowed in concern. “no, peter.”

“what’s going on, bug?” he asks, ignoring you. he moves closer, even though you hadn’t thought that was physically possible.

“nothing.”

“you’re a terrible liar, c’mon. you’re all drowsy.”

“i’m fine.”

he rolls his eyes like you’ve already been over something and he’s repeating himself. “you sure you want to watch a movie? we could talk. or just cuddle. i’ll take a nap with you.”

“give me that,” you grab the remote from him, frustrated. you press play and stretch away from peter.

he doesn’t protest as you move away from him and hide between the cushions of the couch.

but you know that he doesn’t look away.

“okay,” he says to you, very softly. “we don’t have to talk. just let me know if you need anything.”

you nod, stiffly, and peter finally begins to watch the movie.

and your apartment is comfortable at its 72 degrees, but you suddenly feel very cold inside. missing something that you didn’t know was there.

there’s something scratching your throat, like a physical aptitude of desperation. the movie begins to blur, and your eyes hurt. your chest hurts, like someone’s punched you, but you know that there’s only one person to blame.

just you, and your shivering heart.

you swallow, looking to peter. he’s watching the movie peacefully, throwing popcorn into his mouth.

you feel bad for him. and for yourself.

but it doesn’t stop you from sliding over to him, your arm brushing his.

“peter,” you whisper.

“hmm, bug?”

“will you cuddle with me?”

peter looks over to you, his face soft and his eyes watching yours carefully. “of course.”

his arms goes around your shoulder before you can blink, and he’s crushing you into him. he smells like butter, but his shirt is warm.

you don’t mind being smushed to death, so you just move into him.

he puts his other arm around you too, moving into some type of makeshift hug. “good?”

you nod into his chest.

the two of you sit for a moment. just blissfully holding onto each other, peter squeezing like he’s worried you might disappear.

at least you’re not cold. that feeling is still there, but dimmed, because the feeling of peter is much more welcome.

the movie is irrelevant, and your eyes fall elsewhere, thinking about nothing. and everything. as usual.

peter starts to run his hand up and down your arm and you shiver, making him laugh.

you hope that it’ll bleed into you. that somehow, skin to skin exposure will spread whatever sort of easygoing disease he has. but probably not.

still, peter leans down, resting on your head “hey,” he whispers to you.

“hey,” you say back, as response.

“i love you, you know?”

“i know,” you repeat, smaller now. “i know.”

“okay,” peter smiles down at you, kissing your hair. “as long as you know.”

you sit with that for a moment, still not wanting to say anything to peter about any of this.

but you relent. “will you stay the night?”

peter nuzzles into you, his nose writing words into your scalp. you can feel his heart beating in time with yours. “whatever you want,” he says.

at least there’s that.

*

[withahappyrefrain]

3 is the Magic Number

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wiggled your eyebrows, "Kinda?" 

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

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

"Eager, are we?" You grinned. 

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

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

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

"Take it." 

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

To say Peter was excited was an understatement. 

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

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

"May." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—------------ 

The removal was far less painful than the insertion. 

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

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

"Sore. I'm also bleeding." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter's cheeks became flushed, "Yeah." 

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

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

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

"First date," you heard your husband mumble. 

—----------------------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted to bury himself in you. 

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

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

Funny how things change. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was what safety felt like. This was security. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked hungry. 

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

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

God, you could stare at him for hours. 

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

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

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

And his plan was working. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"B-break," you mumbled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"They also have you as their dad." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

[readerthatreadsss]

Requesting more dom!peter 😮‍💨🥵

𝗔/N: Your request is my command! (especially since I've been searching for more dom!Peter fics myself and have been failing so I might as well do it my damn self!) Also, yeah, it's been a damn long time lmao. I planned to finish up and release this like 4 months ago. Then a whole bunch of bad shit happened and I kinda gave up on writing for a little bit (outside of school cause I need that damn Bachelor's degree) BUT I've slowly started reading again and that bled into me opening up my drafts and finding this and spending some time with it. If you couldn't tell I had a shit ton of fun with this one...so feel free to check my newly updated Masterlist and request guidelines and send me more requests! The more I get, the more I'm gonna force myself to actually write them. (If you already sent one just know I’m working on it I promise)

𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝗡𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 | 𝗧𝗮𝘀𝗺!𝗣𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿

(heavily inspired by the song with the same title by Adele.) It came up in my shuffle and when I started listening to the lyrics it was just too perfect.

he's so fucking pretty aghhhh (gif not mine)

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Tasm!Peter Parker x Vigilante!Fem reader

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5.6k+ (This is my big comeback so I might as well feed yall)

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: You and Peter have been broken up for about 3 years, but when an impromptu visit to your apartment takes a turn...that may no longer be the case...

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 (𝟭𝟴+ 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗗𝗡𝗜): SMUT!, lil bit of angst at the end (ex to lovers so ofc), minimal use of y/n, P*rn-with-plot, Reader and Peter are FERAL for each other because of their powers (enhanced senses and all that), p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap your willy before you fuck her silly), a lil possessive Peter, oral (r receiving), fingering, praise kink, Peter using his webs to restrain reader (pre-consented ofc), dom!Peter, sub!Reader (bratty at first tho), pet names (sweetheart, baby, pretty girl, angel), choking, rough sex, brief spanking, other positions, creampie, etc...

The remaining sunlight of the evening bled through your wide studio apartment windows as you finished folding what was left of your newly washed laundry. The plan for the rest of the evening was simple;

Drink two bottles of wine (knowing that your enhanced metabolism would sober the effects), catch up on a few missing assignments to keep your NYU professors off your ass, then jump into your suit and go patrolling.

It was a familiar routine.

Or at least, it had been...since he left.

Your relationship with him ended during your first year of college. To say it hurt like hell would be an immense understatement.

What hurt the most was the fact that you both gave everything you had to make it work...but long distance can be a bitch.

On that warm Saturday night in May, your ex-boyfriend received a call informing him that he had been accepted into a very prestigious engineering program (with a full-ride scholarship attached) all the way in California.

You applied for the very same program, so you knew just how big of an opportunity it would be. And, in good faith, you pushed him to take the offer.

You both insisted, "we'll make it work," and "we'll video chat and text every day. It'll be fine!"

What a load of horseshit.

It took 6 months for you to both arrive at the conclusion that you couldn't juggle your individual academic loads, your nighttime hero personas, AND a long-distance relationship all at the same time. A three-hour time difference didn't help matters either.

It took a while, but you eventually moved on. You kept your grades up, went on a few dates here and there, and even managed to convince yourself that you were doing fine without him.

Until...

*knock knock knock*

Your head peeked out from the fridge to look where you heard the strong yet hesitant knocks on your front door.

Only a handful of people knew where you lived and you weren't expecting to see any of them today.

Assuming it would be a postal worker or someone along those lines, you swung open the door with a polite smile.

"Hi-"

You felt your voice die in your throat as you locked eyes with the deep brown ones you hadn't seen in three years.

"Peter," his name fell from your lips, barely audible.

"Hi, Y/N," he replied with that awkward grin you knew all too well.

His hair was shorter than the last time you saw him, but from the tight fit of his jacket, you could see that was about the only thing about him that shrunk.

You wanted to actually hit yourself in the head for actually imagining yourself doing many things to his large...meaty...biceps- NO, no, no, no get a grip! a voice of logic sounded in your mind.

You hadn't realized how long you stood there silently sizing him up until he spoke again. "Can I...uh...come in, maybe?"

"Umm...sure," you nervously answered, finally taking note of the small cardboard box he was holding.

As you stepped aside to allow him entrance into your apartment, his familiar scent invaded your sensitive senses.

"Oh God," you muttered under your breath, knowing that he heard you, yet unaware that your scent had basically the same effect on him as well.

"You alright?" he turned and asked you in concern trying to hide the tightening of his jeans with the box he brought.

You nodded way too fast, promptly putting some distance between yourself and him. He hadn't been there for longer than 5 seconds and he was already having an effect on you.

"How've you been?" he questioned you, scratching his neck and actively avoiding eye contact. Unbeknownst to you, he was currently repeating every physics law he could remember in his mind to try to quell his growing erection.

It wasn't working very well.

"I've been fine. You?" you quickly spoke, slightly out of breath.

"I-uh-I'm alright," he shook his head with a tight-lipped smile.

He soon found himself just looking at you. It wasn't a blank stare, no, it was the sort of intense look you unintentionally gave someone when trying to commit every single feature to memory as if you weren't certain when you'd get another chance to.

It was a habit of his you noticed a lot when you were dating. And just as it did back then, it sent chills running rampant down your spine. Not to mention your nipples growing obviously hard behind your large shirt with no bra to hide it.

Peter noticed it immediately and fought back a smile, which you glimpsed.

"Why are you here, Peter?" you decided to get down to business before your body betrays you any further.

The brunette let the question hang in the air for a few seconds before actually coming up with an answer. "I wanted to drop these off," he placed the small box on your kitchen counter.

Your eyes immediately narrowed. "You could have mailed it. Or you could've just dropped it at the door and then left. So why are you really here Peter?" you would have felt worse about your tone if you weren't so bothered.

Why the hell did he feel the need to suddenly show up and make you start feeling things you swore you wouldn't feel for him again?

Peter took a deep breath. "Aunt May called me last week. She's not doing too good. So, I came back to help take care of her."

You felt your stomach sink at his words. While you both dated, May grew to be like a second mother to you. You had no idea she was sick.

"Oh shit Peter-I'm so sorry," you crossed the room to engulf him in a hug, despite your initial reaction to his visit.

Peter immediately accepted your hug and found the anxiety in his body dissipating soon after. Your hugs tended to have that effect on him.

He couldn't stop himself from deeply inhaling and drawing in your hair's familiar scent when he wrapped his hands around your clothed waist.

A few seconds passed before you released each other, with you also savoring the feel of his body against you and the way how your skin lit up with goosebumps though there was a thin layer of clothing separating his hands from you.

"I was just cleaning up my old room at May's and I found some of your stuff so I figured I'd drop by and..."

You nodded in understanding and walked over to where he placed the box.

It was mostly filled with old t-shirts, tools, and gadgets from days when you would sleep over at Peter's or stop by to help each other with school projects.

"Thanks," you sent him a smile as you closed the box.

Your smile warmed Peter's heart. It was actually his second favorite thing about you, after your hugs of course. "Yeah, you're welcome," he smiled back, running his hand through his hair. It was a mess by now, but you still wanted to run your hands through it…or maybe even pull on it-

"Sorting through some of this stuff made me realize how much I...missed you," he said, his tone growing more assured.

Thankfully, you were still facing away from him, not giving him the chance to catch the pained expression that briefly crossed your face.

But you could feel him slowly approaching your frozen figure and found your body silently reacting in ways it shouldn't be, yet again. "Do you miss me?" he asked, his voice heavy.

You held back the urge to scream "Yes!" because admitting that out loud would be taking 3 steps backward.

Admitting that you missed him would be undoing all the work and tears you put into moving on from him and the hopes and dreams you had for a life with him.

Admitting that you missed him would mean giving in to the part of you that thought back to your most intimate moments with him when you touched yourself.

And admitting that you missed him would mean letting him back into the four-cornered box you had locked yourself in for the past 3 years.

But, with every step closer that he took, your resolve disappeared that much faster.

"You okay?" he called for your attention.

Your sharp intake of oxygen brought a tense silence over the room when you turned to face him and realized that he stood close enough for your lips to nearly brush his.

"Peter, I-" you tried to form words, but then you saw his lust-filled brown eyes lower to your lips.

And that was all it took for the last of your self-control to disappear.

"Damn it," you mumbled once you realized what was about to happen.

Before Peter could question your outburst, you found yourself latching onto his jacket lapels and pulling him down to meet your lips.

It took mere milliseconds for Peter to react. After all, he had been thinking about doing this since you swung open the door and looked up at him with those eyes of yours.

His large calloused hands took hold of the sides of your face as you clashed in a heap of teeth and tongue. It was desperate and feverish but it was perfect.

It was a language only you and Peter seemed to master, even now after three years apart.

Your lips moved swiftly against his, eager to taste more and more of him with each passing second. You felt him press his growing bulge flush against you, causing a pathetic whine to involuntarily tumble from your lips and a smirk to find its way onto his.

"I did miss you," you softly spoke, "but we can't do this Peter," the logical part of your brain made an appearance, though you kept peppering his lips with kisses.

As his lips moved to your neck, Peter's hands slid down to your ass where he effortlessly lifted your legs off the ground and up around his waist. The feeling of his hands against the bare skin of your thighs garnered yet another moan from you.

"You don't sound so sure angel," you felt him smirk against your heated skin.

You hadn’t heard that nickname in years yet it sent small chills down your spine for the second time that night.

A mumbled curse slipped your lips when he nipped a particular spot below your ear. That was definitely gonna leave a mark.

You soon gathered the strength to pull Peter's hungry lips away from your body, swinging your arms around his neck to hold yourself up.

"We can’t go back from this, you know that right?" you spoke, the both of you panting from the effects of the last minute.

"I don't wanna go back," Peter shook his head, "I wanna fuck you, right here, right now," his lips immediately found yours before his words could fully resonate.

This caught you by surprise which allowed Peter to slip his tongue between your lips.

As his taste continued to flood your senses, you felt yourself grow alarmingly wet.

Peter knew it too because he slowly pulled back and smirked down at you. "I could smell you from the moment I walked in here. Glad to see three years hasn't changed the way your body reacts to me, angel," he accompanied his words with a quick slap to your ass.

His slap and the familiar pet name left you a moaning mess. Just like he knew it would.

A lovely laugh left Peter's mouth before his lips met yours again.

He walked your entangled bodies over to the kitchen counter without breaking the sloppy kiss.

Peter used one hand to blindly clear the counter and place you on it, which sent your box of things flying toward the floor.

Not that either of you cared.

"Too much clothes," you were barely able to say in between kisses.

You followed up by shoving Peter's jacket off his shoulders which fell to your hardwood floors with a thud. He immediately got the message and got rid of his t-shirt as well.

A shameless whimper left your lips at the sight of his very toned muscles. You easily maneuvered Peter's body closer to you and began kissing and sucking his neck and every other available inch of skin just as you had pictured earlier, making sure to leave a few purple bruises in your wake.

“You’re killing me here baby,” Peter harshly swallowed, his eyes sliding closed as you continued to have your way with his chest.

"Wouldn't be a terrible way to die though, right?" you mumbled between lovebites and licks. You felt like an animal in heat but you just couldn't get enough of him, the occasional flex of his muscles with each slither of your tongue and his deep groans only egging you on more.

The taste of his skin alone could've made you cum easily.

But the same could be said for Peter as the feel of your tongue slithering all along his chest had him practically creaming his pants then and there.

Fucking enhanced senses, he cursed inwardly.

“Alright, ease up pretty girl,” he reluctantly grabbed your head, detaching your swollen lips from his body.

“Your turn,” he tugged at the hem of your top.

You quickly pulled off the oversized t-shirt you were wearing to reveal your bare top half to him.

He spared no time in cupping your breasts with his eager hands. "Fuck, I missed you so much," he mumbled.

"Me, or my boobs?" you jokingly raised a brow at him.

"Definitely both," he grinned, bringing his mouth down to your tits.

As his tongue made contact with the soft mounds, you loudly moaned and wrapped your fingers in his unruly tangle of hair.

He switched between nipping and sucking on your nipples, in the way he knew you liked, while his free hand pinched and squeezed the other.

"Just like that Peter fuck-" hearing his name fall from your lips drove Peter insane.

His tongue flicked your sensitive nipples harder, and his eager sucking pleased you to no end.

Peter eventually pried himself away from your supple breasts, remembering the other parts of you he wanted to worship, and brought his hands to rest on the sides of your head. Your lips connected once more in a delicate kiss.

Though you knew what lay ahead for the evening, you were both perfectly content with each other's lips at the moment, just enjoying the constant waves of pleasure from the intimate contact.

But it wasn't long before the kiss grew heated and you tried to take control. Peter, however, wasn't giving you a chance.

"I leave for three years and you think you're hot shit, huh," he smirked.

"Why don't you ask the guy I fucked on this counter last week," you retorted, knowingly riling him up.

"Don't say shit like that, it's not funny," he nearly growled as his grip on your ass grew more forceful.

You secured your grip on his hair before pressing a small kiss on the side of his lips. "Gimme a reason to shut up then," you challenged him.

“Trust me, I will,” Peter grabbed your hands from his hair and forced them to your sides. His movements were swift as he laid you flat on your counter and ripped your thong off your body.

There he is, you smiled to yourself. This is the Peter you wanted to fucking ruin you.

You felt his face ghost your drenched opening as he deeply inhaled your scent. "You smell fucking delicious baby," he praised you, his mouth actually watering at the thought of tasting you.

A genuine smile found its way onto your face but morphed into a gasp when Peter teasingly ran his tongue up your sensitive slit.

"You taste even better," he added, using his strong arms to bring your thighs closer to his head. He wanted to tease you but it was getting harder to resist the urge to dive right into your heat like a man starved.

"Holy shit," you all but screamed as he briefly nipped at your swollen clit before sucking on it to soothe the sting.

His grip on your thighs combined with the ministrations of his tongue was pure bliss.

You attempted to slip your hands in his hair once more, but found that they were suddenly held in place against your counter by two of his webs.

Your eyes briefly widened at the feel of the rough, sticky material against your wrists, not having felt it in a few years. Back then, you expressed to Peter your desire to engage in some bondage, but being the daughter of a super soldier, it was clear that no rope or wire would be able to hold you. Peter's webs became the next best choice.

"That's not fair," you pouted, though it melded into a moan as Peter continued to suck and lick between your glistening folds.

The sounds of Peter devouring you resounded through the small apartment.

"I'm close Pete," you whined, your chest heaving in arousal.

Peter decided to focus his tongue on your eager bundle of nerves while he slowly inserted two fingers into your pussy. He instantly curled the digits causing you to briefly squirm at the sudden pressure against your G-spot.

"More," you begged, and Peter delivered, adding another finger inside of you. He immediately sped up his motion inside of you, making sure his fingers gauged that spongy spot to drive you over the edge with each thrust inside of you.

“That feels so fucking good, Peter, oh my God," you loudly moaned at the feeling of his fingers inside of you, calling forth an orgasm with no warning.

You repeatedly bucked against Peter's face as you came, white-hot pleasure filling your veins. Peter locked onto your stare, still skillfully working his fingers in and out of you, loving the way you constantly clenched around his fingers.

"Jesus fucking Christ," your legs jerked when Peter dove in and drank every ounce of slick you had to give while still fucking you with his fingers.

With his face now damp of your juices, Peter looked up to meet your blissed-out eyes. "Gimme one more, angel," he placed a soft kiss on your thighs, "I know you can do it for me."

You would do anything to keep Peter's mouth between your legs.

So, you eagerly nodded in response before taking a deep breath in preparation for another onslaught.

You didn't have to wait long.

Peter’s tongue went to work on your glistening hole while his fingers fiddled with your overstimulated clit. And, within minutes, your thighs were trapping Peter's head as an even bigger orgasm rocked you again, the borderline pornographic sounds leaving your lips shooting straight to his hardened cock.

Peter seemed perfectly fine with staying between your legs all night, but you had other plans.

"Pete, I need you inside me," you begged, tears of pleasure leaking from your eyes.

He rose from beneath you and climbed up to free your hands from his webs. "I know, baby, I know," he softly replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips and using his hands to soothe your reddened wrists. Your own taste on his tongue flooded your senses which made you even more desperate.

Peter obliged, slipping out of his sweatpants and sliding his girth between your folds. He used one hand to hold himself up above you on the counter, and the other to slowly guide his dick into you.

You both shared a long moan as he buried himself to the hilt inside your pussy, your wetness making it way too easy.

He held still for a few seconds, waiting for you to adjust and give the all clear for him to move.

Eagerness guided your words. “Fuck me, please.”

Peter set a brutal pace, knowing you were more than capable of handling it. Satisfied cries left your chest as you dragged your nails along Peter’s back, hard enough to leave trails.

“You can take it, pretty girl, I know you can,” he groaned as he continued to pound into you, trying desperately not to blow his load with the way you were constantly clenching around him and marking his back.

You tried to reply, but all that you could form were sloppy moans and broken syllables.

“Oh look at you, drunk on my cock already?” he teased with a particularly hard slam that prodded your cervix, “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

Pleasure-filled cries mingled with words continued to fall from your lips as Peter gently moved a few fallen strands of hair behind your ear with a hand. "-feels so fucking perfect," you muttered, your lips curved into a drunken smile.

Peter reached down and pinched one of your nipples, gaining a loud whimper from you. “I love hearing you make those pretty sounds for me baby,” his strokes grew harder and deeper.

“All for you, Pete, all for you,” you panted as he fucked into you, the delicious smell and sound of sex lingering in the air.

Peter used a hand to wrap around your throat before using the other to reach down and fiddle with your aching clit.

The combination of Peter’s dick hitting that perfect spot, his fingers massaging your clit, and the lack of air from his hand around your neck was making you dizzy and overstimulated.

You fucking loved it.

“God, I missed you,” you spoke breathlessly.

He moved closer to kiss you briefly and tenderly. “I missed you too, baby.”

No amount of time could take away his knowledge on how to please you, how to get you like this with ease, not when you were all he thought about for years on end.

Peter pressed a quick kiss to your forehead then continued to fuck you on your kitchen counter.

"I'm gonna cum again baby, right fucking there," you moaned out.

Peter's grip on your neck grew tighter. "Not yet, don't you cum until I tell you to sweetheart," he commanded you, removing his fingers from your clit.

A frustrated groan rumbled in your chest as you forced yourself to sustain your orgasm.

"Don't pout," he smirked.

And before you could realize it, Peter had pulled out of you and effortlessly flipped you onto your stomach.

A hand soon gripped your hair, yanking you up against his chest and eliciting a pitiful whine from you.

"Tell me what you want,” Peter commanded, using his free hand to strike your ass. Hard.

You whimpered again at the sting of his slap. “I need you inside me. Please,” you pleaded.

He seized your hair harsher and leaned forward for his lips to graze against your ears. “Beg.”

A small whine left your lips at his words. You were so desperate you didn’t even care how embarrassing this would be in retrospect. “I need to cum, Peter. Please baby you're the only one who can make me cum.”

Peter pressed a kiss to your neck, nearly causing you to lose your footing. And he soon complied by ramming himself back into you.

“Oh my Fuck-“ you cried before biting your lip, suddenly aware that you had neighbors.

But Peter pulled his cock from your heat, with just the tip remaining, before roughly slamming into you, his hips slamming against your ass with the motion. “Come on, lemme hear you angel.”

He repeated the action, knocking the air out of your chest, “Peter!” your hands gripped the sides of your counter with such force you were sure you felt it crack under your grasp.

Peter caught wind of this and freed your hair before using his hands to pull your hands behind your back. "You're so perfect baby," he mumbled in your ear, continuing to brutally fuck you from behind, "So fucking beautiful with my cock inside you."

"I can't hold it anymore," you cried, "I need to cum, Peter, please."

With that whiny tone and those overstimulated tears to top it off, Peter couldn't deny you any longer. "Let it all out for me sweetheart. Cum for me," he littered your shoulders with kisses.

Your eyes slammed shut as your walls contracted around his cock, pleasure shooting through you and rocking you on a seemingly cellular level. Your mouth opened in a silent moan, unable to form a sound from the satisfied tremors attacking your nerves. The intensity of your finish is one only brought on when Peter fucked you and it was damn near cosmic.

"Shit," you groaned in relief, your long-awaited climax passing.

Peter slowed his movements inside of you and released your hands. "You did so good for me angel," he pushed your hair aside and kissed your neck, trying to stave off his own orgasm for a little while longer.

Aftershocks rocked your body while Peter continued sporadically moving inside of you, yet you couldn't get enough. Your body was more than ready to keep taking whatever he dished out.

Peter didn't need to read your mind to see that, but he needed to make sure. His lips kept up their onslaught on your neck as he softly spoke, "You wanna keep going?"

"Hell yes," you panted with a grin that he couldn't fully see, "You still haven't cum yet, and my bed is still fully made."

Happy with your response, Peter gave your ass a sharp smack. "That's my girl."

He pulled out of you and turned your body to face him, smiling at the sight of your fucked out face. "Three orgasms and a handful of tears later and you're still the most beautiful girl in the world," he held you by the sides of your face.

His words left you reeling, causing a slight blush to dust your cheeks and butterflies to swirl within your stomach.

Before you could form a response, Peter leaned down to kiss you. He soon hoisted up your legs around his waist, preparing to escort you to your bed as per your own demands.

As he looked around for the bed's location, you took advantage of his momentary distraction and latched your lips onto his neck, reapplying the bruises you left there that were slowly fading already.

Peter was the happiest man on earth as he walked over to your bed, his cock prodding your soaked entrance, and your lips ravaging his neck.

He carefully sat on the edge of your bed, with you now on his lap and your legs still around him. You expected him to ease his length back into you but he slowly brought your head down to meet his intense stare.

You carefully wrapped your hands around his shoulders to keep yourself up, the silence in the room growing deafening.

You could tell from his eyes that he desperately wanted to say something, and you wondered if it was the same thing you had been considering as well.

But you were both aware of what saying those words would mean for your broken relationship and simply settled for smiles instead.

Peter brought a hand up to lay your forehead against his, allowing your breathing to momentarily sync.

"You ready for me?" he questioned you with a hand at the nape of your neck to hold your head against his.

You immediately nodded in response causing his own head to shake in time with yours. A small laugh was shared between you both as your nose continued to brush his own.

"You're adorable," you said before you could stop yourself.

That stupid full-toothed grin that you hadn't seen in a while soon spread across his beautiful face at your words, gaining another laugh from you.

"Last round?” you eventually pleaded with a smile.

"Anything for you," Peter replied, meaning it in every way. Adoration littered his stare as he slowly lowered you onto his length.

A satisfied mewl slipped your lips at the familiar feel of him.

The slow drag of his cock in and out of you, while he rocked your hips back and forth to grind on him, had your bottom lip sucked between your teeth with eyes closed and head thrown back in pleasure.

But Peter wanted to see it all. He wrapped a hand around your neck and forced you to meet his dilated eyes. “Keep your eyes on me, baby.”

His soft yet stern tone caused you to swallow back a moan as you continued to move on his girth.

He then slapped your ass with his free hand, silently urging you to move faster.

You leaned down and quickly kissed his lips before happily obliging, now beginning to bounce in his lap, chasing your next climax.

“There you go angel, just like that,” Peter’s stare never wavered.

Peter furiously fucked up into you, your moans and the constant smack of skin on skin filling the apartment.

His other hand which never left your throat now squeezed it harder. “Fuck!” You were barely able to moan out as your breasts bounced with your every move.

“Shit, you’re gripping me like a vice,” Peter groaned, his crude pace never faltering though his orgasm was closer than ever.

Your bed creaked under the onslaught of your bodies, but neither of you payed it any attention only having one goal in mind.

“One more time,” Peter planted his feet on the ground to get a better angle, "Need you to cum on my cock one more time."

But from the broken pacing of his hips to the strong furrow of his brow, you could tell he was close too. “Together?” You breathlessly suggested, grasping the nape of his neck with your hands.

Peter nodded in agreement before engulfing your chest and back with his arms, pulling you closer to his body.

Your breaths mingled, eyes focused on nothing except each other as his grip on your upper body allowed him to help you ride him even faster.

"Yes, Pete, oh my God-" pleas, curses, and moans tumbled from your lips as your skin buzzed at your incoming release.

"There you go, cum for me," Peter's voice grew strangled as his hips stuttered below you.

"Fuck," you wailed, your finish hitting you like a freight train and your pussy leaking into Peter's length.

The intense clench of your walls around him was all it took for Peter to explode with a groan, his pace faltering with that final pump.

"Holy shit baby," he panted, his cum painting your walls in spurts.

His firm hold on your body brought you collapsing on your bed together, satisfied and smiling.

And, for what felt like hours, you lay there in his arms. But of course, your thoughts began to run rampant.

Peter could damn near hear your thoughts spiraling.

"I don't regret this," he suddenly broke the silence you had elapsed into, "Do you?"

"Peter I-...I don't know," you freed yourself from his hold and sat up to look at him.

His brows furrowed at your response, hurt briefly flashing across his features.

"I loved you," you spoke, "I loved you more than anything."

"I know. I loved you too," Peter nodded with a small smile.

"And I will never blame you for leaving. Ever," you slipped a hand in his own and squeezed briefly.

"But?"

Your eyes stung with tears threatening to fall. "What happened to us, it damn near destroyed me, Peter. And it took so so long to put myself back together."

Peter swallowed harshly at your words.

"And then here you come, waltzing in here, fucking my brains out and making me feel things," you lowered your head, looking away from him.

You heard Peter move closer to you before feeling him lift your chin to face him again. His expression wasn't as disappointed as you'd expected, just confused. "Spit it out. I know you're holding something back."

"Why'd you come back here and-and do all this? Reminding me of what we had when you know you're gonna be gone again in the next few weeks?" you felt your voice shrink to a broken whisper.

Peter used his thumb to wipe away a lone tear that fell from your eye, his previously puzzled look now morphing into a smirk. There was obviously something he wasn't telling you.

You sniffled and lightly hit Peter's shoulder. "Well, now it's your turn bug face, spit out whatever you're hiding!"

You received no answer other than Peter leaning forward and pressing a deep kiss against your lips. You eagerly accepted and returned the spontaneous action but were left even more confused when he pulled away.

"That wasn't an answer," you arched a brow at Peter.

"I'm not going anywhere," he smiled.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm moving back to New York, or already moved, technically," he began to explain.

Your mouth opened and closed in shock as your brain fumbled for a response and came up inconclusive.

"I'm gonna finish out the school year online and stay here to take care of Aunt May. I mean it, baby, I'm not going anywhere," he grinned, watching tears of joy fall from your eyes.

"This better not be some sick fucking joke Peter, I swear to God," you pointed a finger at him accusingly.

"Can you shut up and just come here?"

You couldn't help but laugh as you obliged and grabbed Peter's neck before pulling him in for another kiss, your face still wet from tears and a smile almost permanently etched onto your face.

You pulled away but sank into his open arms. You relished how securely he held you. "I'm so happy," you said aloud, truly meaning it for the first time in a long time, though it was only meant to be an inner thought.

Peter kissed your forehead and looked down to meet your eyes, "I'll never stop making you happy, Y/N."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

[flightlessangelwings]

“standing on your tippy toes, frustrated you can't reach your lover's lips”

Tasm!Peter Parker x gn!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count- 592

Warnings- established relationship, fluff, slight bickering but playfully

Notes- Requested by @darylas​ for my 4k follower celebration! Thanks so much for the request! I took inspo from the og Spiderman movies for this one so I hope you liked it!

Taglists are closed. To stay up to date on when I post, follow my update blog and turn on post notifs @flightlessangelwings-updates​

~

“Come on Peter, that's not fair!” you pouted as you looked up at him.

“You almost got it, honey,” he teased back as he hung from his web upside down, just out of your reach, “Come one, just a little bit further.”

You huffed as you rolled your eyes, “You can be a real pain sometimes, you know that?” you crossed your arms as you stayed still.

“Ok, ok,” Peter laughed softly as he lowered himself slightly, “There, now you should reach me.”

You stared at him for several moments, waiting for him to jerk himself back up at the last second. Your body remained tense as you looked into his eyes and the silence consumed you both. But, as you looked at Peter, you couldn’t help but melt. He had a way about him that you could never resist, and you were sure he knew it.

“Alright,” you sighed as you uncrossed your arms and reached up for him where he hung above you. His features softened as a soft smile lit up his face and it made your heart flutter. You reached for him and parted your lips, ready to kiss him.

Peter’s scent engulfed you as you closed the gap between your faces, and your eyes fluttered close as the romance of the moment took over. You placed your hands on either side of his face as your lips hovered over his. But, just as you were about to kiss him, Peter pulled himself up so that he was just out of your way again.

“Pete!” you sighed in exasperation, “You jerk!”

He couldn’t help but burst out into laughter as you huffed at him, “I’m sorry sweetheart… I can’t help it!,” Peter shickered, “You look so cute when you’re like this!” He laughed so hard that he lost his grip on his webbing.

In a flash, Peter suddenly came crashing down onto the ground, “Ow,” he huffed as his shoulder hit the pavement.

All the anger melted away as you dropped to your knees next to him, “Peter!” you exclaimed, “You ok?” you rested your hands on him as checked him over as he grumbled in pain as slowly sat up.

“Yeah…” Peter groaned, “M’ fine.”

“Good,” your voice turned more stern as you slapped his chest.

“Hey! Ow!”

“That’s what you get for teasing me like that!” you scolded him.

Peter’s eyes softened as he looked at you from a new angle. He loved looking at you from every angle; at every angle you were beautiful. And while sometimes he got in a playful mood and liked to tease you, Peter loved nothing more than having you by his side. He reached out and cupped your face tenderly.

“Forgive me?” He gave you his best puppy dog pout.

You looked at him sternly for several moments before you too melted. You couldn’t ever stay mad at him for long, and you knew you would get what you wanted eventually, “I guess,” you teased him back.

“Heyyy,” he sighed before he closed the gap between your faces and took your lips with his.

Both of you melted into the kiss as you lost yourselves in each other. All the games, the banter, the teasing faded away and all that mattered was each other. You immediately parted your lips for him- a sign of forgiveness. And Peter instantly took the invitation.

“You know I love you, right,” Peter murmured against your lips as he peppered soft kisses along your face.

“I know,” you whispered back, “I love you too.” 

[bcyhoods]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

“You leave your window open,” he whispers.

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

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

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

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

“Peter, I think you should—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t go,” you concede.

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

[lostalioth]

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲

→ premise: it’s just so easy to overstimulate peter, especially with how sensitive he is when his spidey sense is on overload.

→ paring: tasm!peter parker x fem!reader – sub!peter

→ warnings: smut, overstimulation, praise [praising peter], oral [m & f receiving], hair pulling [reader pulling peters hair], nicknames [bug boy, baby, princess]

→ a/n: 01 kinktober

Peter loves being between your beautiful thighs. He can spend hours upon hours with his face buried in your cunt, pleasuring you. you had no issue with that in the beginning but it became an issue when even after he made you cum twice, he hasn’t stopped.

“Mhm! Pete, wait, slow down just a bit baby” you whimpered as Peter wouldn’t slow his mouth's assault on your abused and swollen clit. You were already very sensitive and overstimulated, you didn’t wanna cum again just yet so you needed him to be a bit gentler. In an attempt to steady your shaking body you grip onto the closest thing your hands could find, Pete's hair. Threading your fingers through his brown mess of hair and pulling a bit. With a small whine slipping past his lips he reluctantly lets go of your clit and looks up at you with glossed over eyes. “Easy bug boy” you grin, your voice coming out very seductive and hypothesizing to the now very pliable boy buried between your legs. “I just want to please you princess please” He groans and pushes forward trying to latch his mouth back on your throbbing clit. With the grip you still had on his hair you pull him back releasing a small moan from Peter's.

“Nuh uh, you've pleased me enough baby, made me cum like a good boy” He lets out a whimper at the praise and his face begins to redden. “Now let me please you baby boy okay, let me make you feel good” you smirk and let go of his hair to pull him up by arm.

“Yes please” he frantically nods with his eyes glued to you the whole time you pull him up. You slip your hand around the back of his neck and pull his face down to yours, resting your forehead against his. Peter's brain is very hazy and all he can focus on is your hands all over his body. Quickly you flip the two of you so you’re on top of him, you begin sliding down his body. You slip one hand up and under his shirt to rub his side and one down to tug the waistband of his boxers down. Peter whines and bucks his hips softly. “Be a good boy for me baby, can you do that?” You ask slightly mockingly as you finish tugging off his boxers and wrap your hand around his leaking pink cock.

With his face full of heat and redness he whines as an answer. “I need words sweet boy” you run your thumb over the slit in his cock causing him to twitch in your hands. “Please princess wanna be your good boy, wanna feel good” he groans as his eyes dart between your hand around him and your face. “There you go sweet baby, im gonna take such good care of you.” You smile up at your boy as he begins melting into your touch needing more. you begin licking strips from the base of his balls to the tip of his cock making him buck his hips. seeing the desperate look in peters eyes makes an evil smirk grow on your face, it still makes you give in to him in the end.

You slowly sink your mouth down onto him while running your tongue over the protruding vein on the underside of his cock. “Mhmm princess” Peter grunts and covers his mouth with the backside of his hand to suppress a wanton moan. Using the hand that’s still wrapped around Peter you begin jerking off the base of his cock sense you can't fit all of him in your mouth. Your free hand began rubbing his hip bone, you can feel the goosebumps beginning to rise on his skin. You notice Peter is a lot more reactive and sensitive to your touch as you're sucking him off. “Such a good boy for me, being so responsive and obedient baby boy” you continue to mumble praises around his cock sending vibrations through his body.

The praises filled Peter's ears and sounded like heaven and he was quickly becoming overstimulated from the warmth of your mouth around him, the praise going to his head and his cock, and everything around him felt like it was buzzing. His spidey sense was quickly overactive.

Peters hips kept bucking and was a squirming, whining, muttering mess in your hands the closer his release came.he sounded so angelic moaning and mumbling how sensitive he was and how overstimulated he was wanting you to stop but not stop. His senses were very confused and his brain was clouded so he couldn’t think straight. “I’m right here sweet boy, such a good boy baby. Just let go you’re okay. I know your sensitive but its okay baby” you rub circles on his hipbone attempting to clam him down but he only twitches from your touch.

With one last tug of his cock peter starts to fall to pieces. Incoherently mumbling, panting and whimpering as his hot cum shoots down your thorat. You swallow around him as his hip are twitching as his high slowly fades, your mouth not leaving him yet though. You attempt to slowly and gentle remove your mouth to not stimulate his swollen tip but fail. Peter lets out a loud whimper at the stimulation. “I’m sorry baby” your voice is laced with sympathy but you weren’t actually sorry, he was very cute and needy when overstimulated.

“You were such a good boy for me sweeties, my sweet boy did an amazing job” you pull your body up to give him a big kiss, making him whine cause his senses are still overloaded.

a/n: hope you all enjoyed the first day of my kinktober lovelies!

[luveline]

shy!reader patching up tasm!peter’s wounds and getting all flustered bc his flirting is both incessant and incredibly effective (a friends-to-lovers snapshot, if you will)

idk if this is what u meant im sry lol ♥︎ fem!reader tw stitches

"Pete," you chide, barely above a whisper. 

"What?" 

"Hands to yourself." 

"Isn't that hypocritical?" 

You stop yourself from laughing because you need very steady hands. "How can you…" You drift off as you push the needle back into his skin, pull the string taut, and start again. "How can you make jokes right now? Aren't you hurting?" 

His hand pauses where it had been tracing the hem of your shirt, fingertip stuttering over the slightest slip of your bare skin. "Bub, you know it doesn't bother me." 

"It bothers me," you say. Normal best friends go to the movies, the library, and spend altogether too much money on takeout. They don't stitch each other up in the middle of the night. 

"I'm sorry! I swear, I was so fast. He was- Faster." He does his awful forgive me smile that makes your stomach flip. "Besides, I like this part." 

"What?" 

"Your," — he shivers as you pull another stitch closed — "hands. You have super soft hands. Like silk." 

"Spare me," you say under your breath. 

"What was that?" 

You shake your head. "Last one," you say gently. 

Peter doesn't speak again until his stitches are done, disinfected and covered. "Hey," he says, hand covering your upper arm, squeezing lightly, "Thank you, sweetheart. Seriously. Your stitches are better than mine, you're as good as an actual nurse." 

"I have to be good at them 'cause you get hurt so much," you say, shrugging off his second compliment. 

He rubs your arm. "You encourage me." 

"I don't." 

"S'like asking a mouse to stop trying for the cheese in a mouse trap." 

"... I'm the trap?" 

"The cheese, actually." 

Your face is on fire. "Peter." 

"You're embarrassed? That's hardly my smoothest line. I got a new one, by the way. Has anyone ever told you-" 

"No," you say quickly, getting off of his bed in a hurry and almost tripling over a rogue hoodie. "I need to wash my hands." 

His pleased laughter follows you all the way to the bathroom. 

[venus616]

i'm just saying you can do better; {p.p.}

Pairing: peter parker x f!reader (gif is tasm but you can interpret this as any peter parker)

Summary:  tell me have you heard that lately? i'm just saying you can do better... and i'll start hating only if you make me. (lyrics by drake, marvin's room)

translation: you and peter have been best friends for years, you had a crush on him but eventually got over it and he noticed you're about to move on to some other guy. he just had to get something off his chest before you did that

Warnings: friends to lovers, smut, alcohol mentions (margarita, beer, shots), vaginal fingering/sex, oral sex, praise kink (if you squint), jealousy, language, unprotected sex, 18+, NSFW

Word Count: 5.6k (2.4k is smut LOL)

A/N: once i decided on a title for this fic i couldnt stop humming marvins room sjdjnfjnd but yeah this was fun to write it was a previously abandoned wip (my first one ever for peter actually) that i revised the plot for almost entirely and this came out way better than i expected shout out to my oomf / friend for reading both times

She usually kept to herself and her closest friends, Peter being her best one. And don’t get her wrong, she loved Peter. There were no words for how much adoration she had for him, but unfortunately, she wasn't the only one. 

Peter was their college’s most eligible bachelor, how could he not be? Top of his class, the freshmen’s favorite Physics TA and possibly the cutest guy at the school. Don’t get him wrong, he’s not necessarily a playboy but it was definitely a step up from his social standing from Midtown High. He enjoyed the attention, he’d be a fool not to. Especially because he’s being noticed as himself and not just when he’s in the suit. So yeah, he went on a few dates here and there. Hooked up with a couple people in the bathrooms of frat parties. Even flirted while he was helping students on their problem sets. 

Unfortunately for her, she had to hear all about it afterwards. 

Whether it’s from his end, a guy talking about the encounter in the dining hall or a girl talking about it before her organic chemistry lecture. She wasn’t the biggest fan of it, it hurt seeing someone she loved dearly, after realizing how deeply that love ran once he was single again, not manifest into a deeper relationship. Peter had been a core part of her life since high school, Aunt May adored her, her family adored him. She was even there for his break up with Gwen Stacy so she could study abroad. 

As they got older she understood those were the things that just came with being the best friend to someone who was as amazing as Peter which is why she didn’t risk changing it. She accepted her place in his life and eventually those feelings of consistent jealousy that would flare during the first few months of their freshman year subsided. Sometimes they would come back up but she pushed it aside as false hope as there were outside parties involved. For example, the few times when her friends (that weren’t also his) accused him of being flirty. Each time, nothing came of it. So she refused to read too much into it until he said it explicitly. 

She finally chose to actively move on from this high school crush, that she even started seeing someone from one of her classes and they were planning a third date for this weekend. This, because of course, came up during their hang out with their mutual friends in her and Felicia’s campus apartment. They were hanging out to take the edge off after midterms from last week and crowded in the kitchen counter playing bartender during. This was one of the rare times Peter could make it, so she appreciated the quality time with him. 

After Felicia made a small margarita for her, she started asking how it was going with Johnny from the Bioethics course. Everyone’s chatter dropped considerably because everyone was interested in the prospective relationship in bloom with the Johnny Storm. She stuttered before clearing her throat, clearly embarrassed. 

“It’s fine. I mean, he’s really sweet of course. And fun-” 

“So have you guys hooked up?” Felicia cuts off. Peter smirks before looking to her for her response.

She feels her stomach flipping at his sudden attention to her answer.  

She plays it off before responding, clearing her throat. “Yeah,” she shoots a grin meeting with the eyes across the room before the room erupts in a light cheer. 

“We’re actually gonna see eachother again this weekend and go to his place in the city.” She smiles to herself in excitement. She bites the bottom of her lip as her friends shoot quirked up eyebrow glances her way. 

“Well let’s celebrate! You're gonna get some from THE Johnny Storm! Bottoms up!” Felicia announces. The rest of her friends follow suit as she tries to laugh off the burning up of her cheeks and ears, not realizing the news of her sex life would be this exciting. 

Peter bitterly smirks before taking a swig of his beer. He didn’t understand why this was such a big deal that Felicia practically had to make a show of it. 

He also didn’t understand his annoyance and attempted to play it off. It increasingly became hard as the questions advanced and she continued blushing, describing the last few dates with him. Peter’s ears particularly perked up at the study date she had with him, finding out that she had canceled on him for Johnny through this. 

Peter felt a twinge of disappointment in his stomach at this, not knowing if it was friend jealousy or something more. He knows he can’t be exactly mad, since the hangout they had planned was usually offhand, and he more often than not skipped out on those due to Spider-Man activities, simultaneously lying. He couldn’t blame her for eventually reciprocating, but for a boy? He hadn’t felt that let down by her since she admitted to him she thought his Bugle coworker Eddie Brock was cute. 

Peter took another swig of his drink distractedly, causing Harry to ask if something was on his mind, but he shook his head quickly, lying to alleviate any worries from his friend. 

As the night progresses and everyone decides that they’re the perfect amount of buzzed for a game night. After a few rounds of the card game B.S., she decides Candyland would be perfect, remembering that she has the game in her room. Not wanting to get up, she asks Peter to get it for her underneath her bed while he’s up throwing away his drink. 

He obliges and turns to her room door, opening it. His eyes narrow at the picture of him and her next to her bed, accompanied by other pictures he’s taken for their group outings. His pace quickened up across the room and he reached for the frame. Peter quickly turned behind him to make sure no one was coming in to check and turned back to smile at it. He remembered this day fondly, the day they went to the state fair and won her a plushy of her favorite animal. In this photo he noticed how big she was smiling while he was only smiling at her posing happily. Peter used his spidey skills to his advantage and just played it off, to soak into her admiration when he won.

He put it back down as he sensed the footsteps coming behind the door to reveal her opening her room door confused. 

“Pete, what are you doing? Hurry up, Harry is suggesting body shots again.” She giggled before sauntering over his body standing in front of her nightstand. He chuckled at the comment before she crouched down to get the game underneath her bed. She rose back up on her feet to meet his eyes, following her. 

“You’re being a weirdo,” She said putting her hand on his broad shoulder, with a false concern in voice causing him to laugh. 

He inhaled a little before quipping. “Are you ditching me to hang out with this new guy?” His voice raised a pitch to ensure the friendliness of the inquiry, attempting to mask his genuine offense. 

She then shrugged, and face suggesting she didn’t know or care what he was talking about. It was that moment Peter officially identified his feelings as jealousy. 

“If you’re referring to the one time,” she emphasized ‘one’, making Peter feel guilty enough to hang his head low in response, “I canceled on you then yes.” She rubbed the hand she still had on him on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry and I’ll give you a heads up next time. Now can we go so you can stop acting like such a baby?” She playfully tapped his cheeks with her palm but he caught her hand, holding it a little longer than usual. 

Peter drank her gaze onto him as his hand engulfed hers, still remaining on her face. His fingers intertwined with hers as he leaned his face into her hand. Her breath hitched at the affection he was showing and slowly removed her hands from his, worried that one of their friends would see them with the door wide open. She broke eye contact, suddenly finding the boardgame in her other hand much more interesting. 

“C’mon, let’s go,” Peter’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and soon after so did his hand as it landed on the small of her back, caressing that area lightly until he found her hand again to quickly lead them way out the room. 

The rest of the night was odd to say the least. 

Peter’s hands were always grazing hers, or finding themself right on top of her thighs. Whether it was to flag her down from the competitive streak they were both showing from the game or laughing at her reaction to one of his bad jokes, his hands were just constantly on her body. 

Similar to other instances where she felt confused by Peter’s sudden affection, she attempted to play it off, but it got to a point where it was causing her heart to beat faster and a familiar heat to form within her stomach. 

She let out a silent breath of relief that her friends began to leave, expecting Peter to soon leave with Harry. She went to the kitchen to throw food away but found Felicia looking back at her with a mischievous but apologetic look on her face. 

“What?” She raised her eyebrow, ready to exclaim at her for leaving her with a mess when she agreed to set up if Felicia cleaned at the end.

“I have plans, sorry babe, but I will cook and clean tomorrow. I promise!” Felicia then dashed out after hugging her body quicker than she could think to respond, followed by the door closing behind her. 

She sighed, slightly annoyed that out of all times for Felicia to mysteriously disappear yet again, that she had to do it the night she would clean up. Quickly, she decided to get over it, said her goodbyes to mostly everyone and noticed Harry and Peter still talking. She decided to ignore it until they would eventually make their exit and started on the dishes while they had their conversation. 

“You’re not coming back tonight man?” Harry asked, confusion all over his face. 

“No I will. Something just came up, so I'll see you later, yeah?” Peter averted Harry’s eyes and Harry understood, or at least assumed he did. Just another one of Peter’s mysterious disappearances, so he left without any further questions. 

Harry quickly said bye to the hostess of the night causing her to look up from the sink when she saw Peter still in their apartment. 

“Are you still here, Parker?” She sounded in disbelief, causing Peter to scoff. 

“Am I not allowed to spend quality time with my best friend now?” She looked up from the sink to see him clutching his heart as if he had been stabbed, making her shake her head at his dramatics. 

“For your information, I wanted to stay,” He added on. She wiped down the sink and washed her hands before walking back into the main room where he had sat on the couch, landing on the spot in front of him. 

“I believe it’s called overstaying your welcome,” She bantered, causing him to playfully push her by her shoulder. 

“Whatever,” He rolled his eyes as the silence of the apartment filled the air. They both noticed it, realizing whatever was there in her room earlier was still in the atmosphere, especially prevalent now that they were officially alone. 

“I can’t believe you’re going out with him,” He puffed, muttering it a bit low compared to his usual volume. She furrowed her eyebrows, annoyed at the insuitation. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She laughed pushing his shoulder back, mimicking his movement from earlier. 

“No not like that, I just feel like you can do better than him,” Peter let the statement roll off his tongue and she froze in response, attempting to understand what he just said. Her eyes landed on the ground, avoiding him again before she could think of a proper reaction.

She quickly shook off what she thought it sounded like, which she thought was jealousy and just took the safe, protective best friend route. 

“Should I have gotten your approval first?” She smirked, looking back up at him, reaching over to hold his hand in the safe way they always have. 

Peter took it a step farther, just like how he did earlier, and intertwined his fingers with hers yet again. 

“I think you should be with someone who’s more your type you know? A little more thoughtful,” Peter started, rubbing his fingers along the pad of her thumb. 

“He’s cool I guess, but you shouldn’t be with someone who’s so cocky,” He stated, making her laugh, causing him to laugh as well. 

“See you’re enjoying this. You want me to talk about him and beg you not to see him again?” Peter joked, causing her to gasp out as his accusations.

“Peter, you started this,” She pointed out, making his cheeks turn a few shades brighter at her acknowledgment. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you but it also just sounds like you’re describing yourself.” She comments before she could think, embarrassed at her assertion, but she knew if she didn’t call him out he wouldn’t stop it. The last thing she needed was one of her friends not approving of a guy she was seeing. 

“I’m your type?” He clocked her. She didn’t know how to react so she watched his face for any hint of how to proceed. He only smirked with a smile playing on his lips, letting her know how much he was enjoying this. 

“Oh shut up,” She smiles playfully before hitting him with her nearest throw pillow, him yelling out a whine, knowing it didn’t hurt. 

“For your information,” She started, mocking his voice from earlier. “You’re being just as cocky as him right now.” She firmly stated as he placed the pillow back in lap. 

Peter shrugged before readjusting himself to sit closer in front of her, dangerously close. It went back to feeling like 30 minutes earlier when he was all over her body. 

“Yeah? But it’s okay when I do it.” Peter teased, leaning his head on the couch watching his presence words fluster her. He could feel her heart picking up its pace and it dizzied him, knowing the type of effect he had on her. 

“I didn’t say that,” She argued back, making him draw his breath back in before egging on her claim from earlier. 

“But I’m your type,” He stated, she sighed in defeat, knowing he wasn’t going to drop it and played into it due to this. 

“I guess you are Peter,” She states lightly. If Peter didn’t have his Spidey senses on overdrive right now, he would’ve been convinced by the nonchalant act she put on right now. Instead, he respected her commitment to not allowing him to win, even when she’s flirting back. 

“Then how come you’re not going out with me?” 

What he said stunned her, she faltered momentarily before shrugging again with a smile. 

“You never asked,” She stated, a smile bouncing off of her lips watching Peter form an answer. They decided to skip over the fact that they had been friends for almost 6 years, but she knew that her honest answer was that the mere idea of him going out with her was out of the question because of it.  

Until now. 

He remained still for a moment and she fixated on where their hands met instead, wondering if they had ever held hands like this before. While she was thinking, and while Peter used his free hand to tuck her hair behind her hair, she realized the answer was never, because it had always been much more innocent. However, tonight was anything but that. 

“Can I try something?” His voice finally registered in her ears. Confused at his sudden switch, she nods. 

Peter hesitates, going in to kiss her. Peter’s soft lips connect to hers as his hand cups her face. She instinctively deepened the kiss, silently asking for Peter’s permission to do so. Their breaths began to shake from the intensity of the kiss. 

She practically lost her bearings when Peter’s hands made their way to her waist, pulling her towards his chest. She held onto his bicep, now flexed, as he hooked his hand underneath her leg to pull her around his hips where he sat. 

They were an entangled mess, Peter placing her where he wanted and her obliging, but not coming up for air as she leaned even more into the kiss. Peter chuckled in between the kisses when he eventually grabbed her hips to hover above his own. She groaned at his strength, leaning back in to attack his neck and jaw in kisses. 

She eventually started to nibble on his neck, finding his sensitive spot. He pants out, attempting to slow down her movements before bringing her closer.  

“Fuck, you’re really going in on me there,” He muttered before he forcefully plopped her onto him causing her to grind on his forming erection, grinning at his acknowledgment. Peter placed his hand on her back and pushed her closer to his chest, nose and forehead pressed against one another with only the sounds of their breathing filling the room. 

She leaned into his ear whispering lowly, “You like it.” She readjusted herself on him slightly, to grab on the waistband of his pants, tugging it down before snaking her other hand on the print straining against the fabric of his jeans.

Peter groaned, dick twitching in his pants from simultaneous surprise and arousal. He didn’t realize how different it would be sleeping with a close friend, but also underestimating how she would be in a sexual context. 

He threw his head back as she unbuttoned his pants, in disbelief of what was happening right now. When he brought his head back up to watch her movements he saw her kneeled before him on the ground, rubbing his erection through his boxers.

“Fuck, slow down,” He breathed out while pulling his jeans off. Right after, Peter raised his t-shirt right above his abs while she pulled his boxers down, cock semi-hard. 

Her eyes glazed over his body, only semi familiar with it whenever their friends went to the beach or the pool. She tried to hide her shock at he’s become exponentially toned since high school and just seemed to be getting bigger despite never actively going to the gym. She chose to pay it no mind and focused on his cock.

Mainly because she hated how attractive Peter looked right now, hair messy, shirt halfway off and looking down at her, closely watching her movements. The attention he was giving her was enough to make her want to shut down immediately. Their eye contact remained intense, both blown out with lust, both because of the compromising position the other was in. 

She maintained eye contact and wrapped her hand around his length, slowly jerked her hand around him. When he was hard enough, she placed one hand at the base of his cock and another right on top, running her thumb over the slit a few times once the pre cum came out. She looked down at the wetness pooling out from him and focused on her movements, not wanting to lose this pace he had been receptive to. He was fully erect at this point, almost bucking his hips into her hands getting him off.  

Peter was choking back his moans before he finally spoke. “Don’t be a tease,” He muttered. 

She giggled and the noise went straight to his dick, causing him to buck once more in her hands. 

Without saying anything, she placed the hand that had been on the base of his erection on his thigh and opened her mouth in an obscene way that was unfamiliar to Peter. Before he could take a mental picture of it, she slowly licked the underside of his cock up to his tip and wrapped her lips around him, her eyes never leaving his. 

He whispered a curse under his breath from the scene in front of him, realizing this was just the beginning. 

Her tongue swirled around the head of his cock, collecting the pre-cum that was previously spurting out and she dipped her head lower, dropping the eye contact to which Peter had a brief sigh of relief, becoming intimidated by the intimacy of it all. She shifted her focus on taking him whole and started to bob her head on him, engulfing his length with her mouth. 

He started puffing out, mumbling praises that only encouraged her. “Fuck, you’re taking me so good,” She only nodded, attempting to take him deeper while swishing her mouth around him and continuing to bob.

Peter felt a tension forming in his stomach and wanted to tell her to stop but it escaped his head as quickly as it came because of how good her mouth felt. Peter fought the urge to instinctively thrust into her mouth and just cupped the back of her head, pushing the hair out of her face as she continued to gag around him, the wet noises mixing in with his moans. 

“Don’t hurt yourself babe,” He said before moving a hand that was around her head to her cheek, making her look up at him. She bobbed her head a few more times, this time more shallowly and popped off his dick, gasping for air. 

A trail of her saliva dripped from her lips to the head of his cock making his stomach burst with butterflies from the image of how flushed, and fucked out she looked from the immaculate head she just provided him with. His heart swelled from the action and all he could do was wipe the spit from her chin and cup her face. 

“C’mere here,” He mumbled, bringing her to stand on her feet and lean down to kiss him. He kissed her rougher than the first time, presumably from the desire he’s built up from the foreplay.  She was still trying to pace her breathing and he could tell so he slowed down, but snaked his hands down to the waistband of her jeans, reciprocating the unbuttoning of her pants like she had done for him. 

She broke the kiss to replace his hands with hers and slipped them off. Shortly after she removed her top, revealing herself clad in some lacy underwear and a bra, standing before him.

“No fair, Parker,” She commented. He was briefly confused until she grabbed the hem of his shirt to remove it off of him, admiring his toned, relaxed figure in full view now. She kneeled back down on the couch cushions, her warm core hovering above his dick, teasing him as he could feel the heat on him with her knees on either side of his legs. 

He brought his hand in between her thighs, attempting to move her underwear to the side but paused at the wetness of her through the fabric. 

“So wet,” He tsked, making her smirk when he looked back up to her studying his movements. He placed her fingers firmly against her nub through the fabric, to which she grinded against, needing to feel his large fingers against her now throbbing clit. 

“Impatient, too,” He added, finally moving her panties to the side to insert a finger, making her throw her head back. She unconsciously rocked her hip forward at the penetration to which he met by repeatedly thrusting into her before adding another.

Both his index and middle fingers were fucking her, long and slender but big enough to feel the pleasure of the stretch once she had relaxed around him. Peter eventually curled his fingers inside of her and flicked his wrists while inside of her, causing her to squirm on top of him. The sounds of her wetness coincided with her moans, progressively getting more sensitive and impatient. 

“I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” She hissed at him, unable to control the steady rocking of her hips on his hands. 

“Good,” He said with a hint of satisfaction in his voice. He brought his other thumb to rub her clit, making her movements sputter and breathing erratic as he played with her to her finish. 

Peter felt her clenching around him more frequently and took advantage of it to thrust faster, curling his fingers back up to create more friction. She whined out at the change of pace and stimulation added onto her clit before eventually feeling the built up tightness in the lower pit of her stomach release, signifying her finish. 

She continued to clench around his fingers as he continued to finger her despite her orgasm. She sobbed at the sensitivity she began to help but couldn’t help but continue rocking her hips into his fingers, riding them once again. She resumed panting out his name, begging him for something but couldn’t form the words.

“What?” He said, barely slowing down the thrusts of his fingers. 

“Fuck me,” She responded, hardly audible from the groans surrounding the statement. 

He nods, removing his fingers from her core, making her gasp at the sudden absence of him. She made quick work of her underwear, slipping them off her legs while Peter wrapped his hand around his cock, attempting not to completely jerk off to the sight of her.

She returned to her previous position, covering her completely naked form over Peter’s, feeling the tip of him right under to her wetness. 

She sank down on him, both wincing at the feeling of each other. All Peter could focus on was the softness of being inside her, her skin, the flesh of her thighs being wrapped around him, the closeness of their chests being pressed up against each other and the brief vulnerability she was displaying by wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He felt faint at the presence of her scent while her head was tucked into his neck, combined by the steady sensation of her rocking her hips onto his cock. 

“Peter,” She moaned. 

“Yeah?” Peter was hardly taken out of his thoughts, answering automatically as he grabbed onto the flesh of her hips to control at the speed he thrusted into her from under. 

“You feel so,” She groaned before continuing “So fucking good Pete. You feel fucking amazing inside of me.” She finished before plunging down faster onto him, making him look at her mouth agape.  He could feel her clenching even harder and more frequently around him, combined with her wetness from the previous orgasm and just from sucking him off, it was almost too much. 

Peter looked down to see where they connected and saw his skin glistening just from her arousal, and felt even more turned on. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” He stated mindlessly, still in awe of how sexy she looked right now. In Peter’s point of view, he struggled with deciding what to focus on. 

The way her tits bounced in front of his face, the way her ass and thighs felt when they smacked on top of his thighs repeatedly, causing the the jiggle of her body to be even more apparent, or how fucking close she was holding him. She alternated from both her hands clenching into his shoulders, or one hand on the nape of his neck and another pulling on his brown curls. 

A bonus was how she sounded moaning his name and a string of praises for how he made her feel. 

Of course, she noticed this. 

“You like that don’t you?” Her voice caught his attention, barely realizing she was actually asking him a question

“What?” He breathed out, sounding just as fucked out as he looked, the sweat of each other making his hair stick to his forehead. 

“When I say nice things to you,” She obliged to Peter’s physical request of her to slow down, which was him just forcing her movements to stop by the way he grabbed her. 

“Mmm,” He didn’t answer, just closed his eyes and threw his head back on the couch, avoiding her quizzical stare. 

“C’mere,” She said, pulling herself forward by pushing her weight on his shoulders and rising from his, now aching, cock. 

Peter’s attention was caught, he shook his head in disbelief of her and opened his eyes, still hanging low to hide his irritation that her heat wasn’t surrounding him anymore.

“You’re so cute when you’re upset,” She fake pouted, then proceeded to giggle. Peter didn’t want to find it as cute as he did but he couldn’t help himself. 

“You really are a fucking tease, you know that?” He growled before grabbing her by her thighs to lower herself back onto him and raised his hips from the couch to fuck her on his own pace. The force from his strength caused her entire body to rock from each thrust, but she relished in it, moaning out praise for how good it made her feel. 

“Peter,” She yelped at a particularly hard thrust. “Just like that,” Peter’s head spun at this. 

“Yeah, keep doing that, please,” She begged, fucking begged, Peter to maintain the force he had brought upon her. It was then he knew he played right into what she wanted when she taunted him for his praise kink. (He was then making a mental note of how well she knows him and how he’s probably just a little predictable.)

Peter was practically drooling to see her come apart on top of him like this, he threw his head back in the pillows once again to enjoy the view and moved one of his hands to her clit, putting pressure on her, bringing her closer to her orgasm. 

He felt it building up by the way she clenched on his cock and couldn’t contain his moans any more. 

“Moan, please I wanna hear you when you cum inside me,” She commented once he let a particularly loud one escape his lips. He was both shocked and embarrassed at the effect she had on him, because he almost came apart immediately at the invitation to cum inside her. 

“You sure?” He whined, trying to bring her to finish before him.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there with you,” She said, finding his other hand on her waist and intertwining his fingers with her. 

“Please?” Once those words left her lips he was finished. He instantly came inside her, her following right after. 

Their orgasms swept them both away, sensitivity coming right after as she struggled to detach herself from him. Peter didn’t allow this and continued to fuck her through both their orgasms, relishing the pain and the pleasure this decision came with. 

Her head was back in the crook of his neck when their movements slowed down and they had to catch their breaths. 

Once their hearts reached a normal rate and they removed themselves off of each other, Peter broke the silence. 

“Are you still going to see him?” He asked rather timidly. She didn’t understand the sudden shyness but decided not to comment on it. She shrugged in response before answering honestly. 

“Probably,” She averted eye contact with him, looking at where their hands connected, ignoring their full frontal nudity because this was somehow more vulnerable. 

Peter’s heart dropped, he wasn’t expecting that response, nor his reaction to that response. Without thinking about the weight of what he was going to say next, because he hadn’t been doing much of that tonight, he continued. 

“What if you go out with me instead?”

She looked him in the eyes again before responding. She didn’t know what she saw in his eyes. It was a mixture of fear, desire and hope. 

Then, it was her turn not to think before she responded. 

“Like on a real date?” She realized how that sounded when she said it aloud. 

Peter nods, knowing what she meant. 

“I meant what I said about us,” He paused, watching for her reaction. She hung onto his words, encouraging him to continue. “I want to go out with you and if I’m your type then what’s stopping us?” He joked. In her head this was so unsurprising because it seemed right up his alley to joke about some offhand comment she made before they literally had sex and laughed, because of how predictable her best friend is. 

“Well why didn’t you say anything before?” She inquires, shaking her head at how ridiculous he sounded. She studied his features again before he answered, watching him turn a few shades of pink. 

“I didn’t want to mess anything up. I don’t fuck my friends you know.”

“Up until now,” Peter smirked at this comment, she was always so quick to rival his own quips. 

He let the silence simmer before responding because he wasn’t sure just how she felt about this, him, or what they just did. He was afraid he had permanently damaged the friendship and wasn’t sure how he was gonna come back from it if that were the case. 

So, he asked. 

“Is it weird now?” He spoke barely above a whisper. 

“What part?” She had to ask before she could answer. 

“That we did it backwards.” He exasperated, feeling unsure of himself now that he had to verbalize what he meant. 

She shrugged again, this time affectionately, not wanting Peter to get frustrated with her or himself. 

“Maybe it can be a good weird,” She affirmed his anxiety by clarifying. 

Peter’s stomach erupted in butterflies. “Yeah?” He raised his eyebrow in excitement. 

“Yeah.” She bit her lip before leaning in to kiss him once again. 

His hands dropped back down to her waist to bring her in closer as the certainty between them was solidified.

A/N: okay so when i was writing this i imagined comic book f4 johnny storm especially bc of the dynamic he has with peter in the comics (spideytorch my beloved) but when my friend reviewed this she asked if it was chris evans and while that wasn't the intention that made it so much better so just clarifying it wasnt on purpose but if you did that i hope it was fun

[ghostlyfleur]

♡ dating tasm!peter parker

[angstylittleb1tch]

Rain, Rain go away

Tasm!Peter Parker Imagine

Am I magically respawning after so long of being dead? No.......absolutely yes. Anyways here's a random Tasm!Peter Parker Imagine I had cooked up in my notes for a while, hope you guys like it, byeeee.

Peter parker hates the way rain ruins everything.

He hates how cold and sticky he feels when it rains. How the benches in his favorite park get wet and dirty. How he accidentally steps in multiple puddles of water while rushing to college. How his clothes get drenched running home when he forgets to bring an umbrella to the lab on unfortunate rainy days. How he has to wash his hair 3 times to get rid of the icky feeling rain leaves behind.

He hates how crimes rates always start to spike up in his neighborhood during the rainy days. He loathes having to sit in his bathroom and wash his now dirty AND wet spider suit. He hates how his heater magically breaks down everytime its raining leaving him freezing and irritated.

He absolutely despises the cold he catches everytime it rains because all the bad guys in town have made a pact to gang up on him in the middle of an intense rain shower when all he wants is to go home and sleep until he dies. He hates how cold his hands and feet become by the time he gets home and how it doesn't seem to go away.

Peter groans on and on about hating getting sick, sneezing everywhere and having a slight fever barely a day before huge projects that somehow always make up 60% of his grade. Even though he completely aces them dispite having a terrible fever the next day.

He hates the melancholy atmosphere and the patter of raindrops on his window keeping him awake most nights. He hates the smell of the earth mixing in with his morning coffee. It leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.

All in all, Peter parker hates the rain, yes. But he can't help the grin on his face when he finds you pulling him in to dance in the middle of the raining street with pure and un- adulterated love in your eyes. He absolutely loves the way you laugh and smile at him, your hands wrapped tight behind his neck and his on your waist, gently pulling you in. He adores the little blush you sport when he leans down to smother your face in light kisses as the rain falls coloring you both in its various shades. He loves watching your heart melt at the small 'I love you's' that spill out of his mouth as he spins you around blissfully unaware of the rain.

Because Peter loves the rain if it means he gets to hold you through it all and kiss you breathless till he forgets he ever hated it in the first place.

[feariteriu]

𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲 — 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬

—MasterList!

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬: y/n gets a late night call from the boy that has her completely whipped, she’s confused as he rambles on drunken thoughts to her.

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: cursing, under age drinking? lol just really fluffy tbh.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚: miles morales x female y/n

𝗔/𝗡: sorry it’s kinda long hope you like it!

—

Collapsing on your bed, you moved your arm to rest over your forehead. You were exhausted. The party you'd just gotten home from had completely drained you. You were moments away from falling asleep when your phone rang. Groaning, you lazily reached across your bed for it. "Hello?" you murmured, answering without bothering to check the ID. The sound of pounding music and muffled chatter echoed through the speaker. "Hello?" You repeated.

"Y/N!" Sitting up, you quickly checked the caller, "Miles?"

"Where are you?" His voice sounded slurred. "Are you drunk?"

"No-maybe-that's not the point."

"Are you still at the party?" you questioned, checking the time. "Do you need to be picked up or something?"

"No," he denied. "I need to know-" he paused for a moment. "I need to know where you are."

"Why? What's wrong?" Miles muttered something incoherent under his breath.

"Just tell me where you are!"

"I'm at home," you told him, confusion filling your face. "What's wrong?" He released a deep breath of relief, "When did you-when did you leave?"

"I don't know," you sighed. "Maybe half an hour ago?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I hadn't seen you for a while," you explained. "I didn't even know if you were still at the party. I thought maybe you'd left with someone."

He snorted, "As if I'd leave with any of these people," he muttered, trailing off into something you couldn't understand.

"Miles," you sighed, "you're drunk."

"So?"

"Can we please just talk tomorrow?" you requested, rubbing your temple. "Are you safe?" he asked you, his voice turning serious.

"What are you talking about?"

"I thought something had happened to you, I was looking everywhere," he explained. "No one could tell me where you were and I-I was really worried and I just-" he fumbled on.

"Miles, calm down," you instructed. "Take a breath." You held back your laughter as he followed your instructions, the action being much more dramatic than necessary. "Now, why were you worried?"

"Because I couldn't find you! I was looking everywhere," he repeated. "I'm sorry you got so concerned," you told him. "I promise you I'm okay."

"You promise?" His tone was much softer now, his voice so quiet it was barely audible over the background noise. "I promise, Miles," you smiled. "How much have you had to drink?" you inquired. "Just a little bit."

"A little bit?" you repeated, lying back down and turning onto your side. "Are you sure?"

"Maybe-maybe a little bit more than a little bit," he replied. "I take it you're still at the party?" you asked him, though you already knew the answer. "Mm-hmm."

"Did you need a lift home?" you offered. "I can come get you."

"No," he denied. "I'm crashing here tonight. A few of the others are too."

"Are you sure?" you asked, toying with your bedspread. "You sound like you're ready to go to bed," you told him honestly. "I don't think you'll be able to get any sleep there at the moment."

"I guess not," Miles agreed. "What are you doing?" you questioned, the background noise changing and becoming more muffled. "I'm going outside," he said. "There's a pool."

"Miles no! Don't get in the pool. You're probably too drunk to remember how to swim."

"That's not true," he muttered. "Oh shi-"

"What did you do?" you sighed. "Someone left their shoe in my way," he groaned. "Are you sure it wasn't your shoe? Did you fall?" you asked, unable to hide the amusement from your tone.

"Maybe."

"I'm going to ask once more, are you sure you don't want me to come back and get you?" There was silence from his end for a moment and you felt your heart pick up the pace.

"Miles?"

"I'm here," he whispered.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. Keep talking," he instructed.

"Talking?"

"I like your voice." You could hear the smile behind his words. "It's a very nice voice."

"Thank you?" you laughed, not sure of how to respond. "I can't say I've ever been complimented on my voice before."

"You should have been," he responded. "It is a very nice voice," he said again. "With a very nice face to match.”

You and Miles had known each other for a very long time. You wouldn't ever admit it aloud, but he had always been the one who was able to make you smile and who was able to make the butterflies in your stomach come to life-especially when he said stuff like that. He definitely wasn’t aware of the effect he had on you if he did he would stop saying things like that right?

"Why aren't you talking?" From the tone of his voice, you could tell he was pouting. "Sorry," you smiled. "I'm talking now. Will you be okay tonight? I really want to come pick you up," you sighed out.

"I'll be all good," he responded, dragging out his words. "I've found myself a nice chair," he laughed, his laughter soon turning to giggles. "It's so comfy."

"I'm sure it is."

"You sound tired," Miles commented.

"That's because I am," you told him. "And I think you are too."

"I think I am, too. You're so smart. Did you know that? And very pretty. And you have an amazing voice."

"I think you should probably go get some sleep, Miles," you sighed, trying not to read too much into his words because of the state he was in. "I'll ring you tomorrow to check on you, okay?"

"Okay," he mumbled sadly. "You promise you'll ring me?"

"Of course."

"Pinky swear?"

"There's no other promise," you insisted. "Goodnight Miles."

"Goodnight (Y/N)!" Shaking your head, you rolled onto your back-opening your messages to text your friend who was still at the party, asking them to go check on Miles. Once they had replied, you tossed your phone to the side before sliding under your covers. You understood that Miles was under the influence of alcohol and that probably wouldn't remember the conversation you had just now.

You didn't want to get your hopes up, have any form of expectations. Pushing certain thoughts out of your mind, you hugged your pillow to your chest, closing your eyes-ready to fall asleep. Tomorrow you would ring Miles to check on him and you hoped by then your head would be clear.

. . .

Entering a small little cafe of his choice, you cast your eyes around trying to find Miles. Unable to find him in the cafe, you made your way towards the counter. "Hey," you greeted.

"Hi," she smiled. "What can I get for you?"

"Something strong and sweet please," you answered. "Has a black guy with dark curly hair and a dopey smile been in here yet?" She shook her head, "Sorry, haven't seen him. Go take a seat and I'll bring this out to you."

"Thanks," you told her, following her instructions. Taking a seat at the table with two chairs, quickly looking over at the door to see if Miles was nearby. You'd rang him earlier like you had told him you would do last night and you'd both made plans to meet up here.

The conversation hadn't lasted long, Miles had only just woken up when you called him and he was getting ready to go help clean up. He asked you to meet him at the cafe and you jumped at the chance. Pulling your phone out, you spent a few minutes replying to a friend before a steaming mug was placed in front of you.

"Thanks again."

"Let me know if there's anything else you need," she replied, heading back to the counter. You weren't sitting alone for long when Miles sat opposite to you. You jumped slightly in surprise at his arrival. "Hi," you chuckled, taking in his appearance. "You don't look..." you trailed off.

"Yeah I know," he sighed. "I think I may have gone over my limit a little yesterday," he admitted. He took a deep breath before resting his arms on the table, "Hi," he smiled finally.

"Besides the obvious...are you doing okay?" Miles nodded, "I guess, just a little embarrassed," he told you, his cheeks flushing. You raised an eyebrow, "What do you have to be embarrassed about?" you asked him.

He sent you a knowing look, "Last night," he clarified. "I'm sorry for disturbing you."

"Miles," you groaned. "You're one of my closest friends," you told him. "You weren't disturbing me, I'm just glad that you're okay."

"Right," he said, his tone almost sad as he muttered something under his breath. Before you could ask what was wrong, the waitress from before placed a drink in front of him, "You look like you need this," she laughed, walking off once more.

His hands immediately wrapped around the mug, "She's like a mind reader," he mumbled, taking a small sip. "Can I ask you something?" you questioned, almost hesitantly.

He nodded, confusion crossing his face for a brief moment. "You don't usually drink so much," you began, "and I was just wondering..." the boy sighed, "Why I ended up as smashed as I did?" You gave him a short nod.

"It's a little...stupid," he confessed, you could tell he was reluctant to divulge his reasoning to you. "It's okay," you said. "You don't need to tell me, I just hope nothing's wrong," reaching across the table to rest your hand on his. Noticing how his body tensed at your touch, you retracted your hand immediately. "Sorry," you squeaked.

He shook his head, "No, it's not-don't be," he insisted. "I uh-you rang because you were worried about me...do you remember?" He brought his hand to rest on the back of his neck, rubbing at it awkwardly, "Yeah...I remember. I thought maybe you'd left with one of the guys," he admitted.

Your brow furrowed, "Why would you think that?"

"I overheard-actually it doesn't matter," he told you. "I'm sorry about all that. Ringing you I mean."

"It's okay," you admitted. "It's good to know someone cares," you joked. "Of course, I care," he said softly. Smiling down at the table, you moved your hands to wrap around the mug in front of you. "Do you happen to remember what else you said?" you dared to ask, your face heating up at the thought.

Miles laughed, "Now I think you're just trying to embarrass me."

"So you don't?" you questioned, trying to hide the hurt from your tone. His expression turned serious, "No I-I do remember," he confirmed slowly. "All of it." Miles leaned back in his seat, "Last night I learned that I become very...vocal and honest when I drink."

"Honest?"

"Well you do have a very nice voice," he replied playfully. "And an equally pretty face." You could feel your face redden further, making him laugh. "It turns out drunk me has more confidence around you than sober me."

"What do you mean?" The boy's smile turned shy, "It seems I'm much more likely to spill certain things," he hinted. "I don't understand," you replied.

"Don't worry about it."

"Okay..." you drawled. "Did you end up sleeping out on the pool chair?" you questioned. Miles shook his head, "F/N helped me find an actual bed, thank you for that by the way," he said, giving you a knowing look.

You shrugged innocently, "A pool chair is not a good place to spend the night," you commented. "I owe you for that," he continued.

Scoffing, you take another sip of your drink, "That's not necessary. Like I said, we're friends." The hurt that flashed across his face matched the feeling that had risen within you at your words. "Friends," he sighed under his breath.

Miles seemed to be in the middle of a debate with himself. "Are you okay?" you asked, the concern evident in your voice.

"Actually," he announced, "I want to ask you something...I was talking with F/N last night, and she kind of helped me realize a few things," he admitted. "And if I read into her words correctly... then I think..." He found it hard to finish what he was trying to say.

"What is it?" you laughed nervously. "I'm just going to say it," Miles told you. "Right now. Out loud." Not wanting to interrupt his thoughts, you both fall into a small period of silence.

"I like you," he blurted out.

"What?"

"I like you," he repeated, meeting your eyes.

"I like you too, Miles," you insisted, tilting your head.

"No," he smiled, amused at how oblivious you could be, "I like you."

"Oh." Miles suddenly grew nervous, "That's your only response?" he asked. You moved your hands to rest on your lap, "I don't really know what to say," you said slowly.

He took your words as a sign that you didn't feel the same way. "Right, I'm sorry," he laughed. "Just forget I said anything," he said, averting his eyes from you. "No!" you shouted, feeling your cheeks heat once more-not meaning to be so loud. "Sorry...I just-you took me by surprise. I was just...not expecting you to say that."

"Is the concept of me like you so hard to imagine?" he joked, but the nerves behind his eyes were still there. "No...what's hard to imagine," you told him, "is that you feel the same about me as I do about you."

The boy's mouth parted slightly, "Wait..." You laughed at his expression. "You like me too?" he grinned. Nodding, you wrapped your arms around yourself loosely, "For longer than I think I want to admit," you told him bashfully.

He beamed at your words, "So...does this mean you'll go on a date with me?" he questioned hopefully. Chuckling, you found yourself staring into his eyes, "I would love to go on a date with you, Miles."

…

“I just realized we never paid for our drinks.”

[webslingingslasher]

Oh, Baby.

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

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Genre: Fluff/angst

Word Count: 3.1K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallowed hard, “Can we talk?” 

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

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

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

“Do what?” Peter’s voice had an edge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not- I wouldn’t do that, okay?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re going to hate me.”  

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

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

“This time it will.” 

“Tell me.” He challenged you. 

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

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

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

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

Peter looked confused. 

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

He took a deep breath in. 

“Okay.” 

“A month late, Peter.” 

He nodded his head. 

“Okay.” 

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

“Do you think you’re pregn-” 

“Stop.” You cut him off. 

“Don’t say it.” 

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

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

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

“Did you take a test?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby,” He tried.

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

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

But this was a problem he couldn’t solve.

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

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

“Just fix it!” You pleaded. 

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

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

“You always fix it.” You reminded him. 

“I know.” He kissed your forehead. 

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

“No.” 

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

“Okay.” You pulled from him. 

“Okay?” He watched you nod at him. 

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

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

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

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

You smiled, he knew you needed to hear that.

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

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

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

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

You nodded and watched him leave. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you come with me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He thought of his next words carefully. 

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

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

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

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

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

You sat back down next to Peter. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” 

“Do you want me to look?” 

You nodded, “Please.” 

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

“Negative.” 

Both of you smiled at the same time. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You narrowed your eyes at him. 

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

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

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

“Celebratory chocolate milk.”

[nexusnyx]

Lost The Game

SUMMARY:The explanation your mind settled for was that whoever lived under that mask, also lived somewhere close by. It explained the first time you found him limping and bleeding on an alley, and it explains how you evolved into his personal caretaker for the wounds and afflictions of Spider-Man’s after battle consequences.

The only thing it doesn’t explain, however, is why through the thick and convoluted webs of your strange situationship, a certain tension has built between you two. Palpable. Physical. As electric as some of his tales, and as dangerous as he is.

The tension between you and Spidey grows, and it grows, and it grows. One day, it snaps.

⚠️ Minors DNI. Smut. | 🏷️ 3.2K , fluff, part two of three, reposting this ‘cause some people missed this one and asked for it.

• PART ONE •

“I really want you,” you confess.

Spider lets out a shaky breath. “Good.” He nods. The hand on your waist holds on tighter, and he pulls you closer. “I haven’t wanted anything this bad in a long, long time.”

When he kisses you again, you can feel that.

The words, the feelings behind them, the truth in it.

His lips start softly pressing against yours, and you're thankful for the late-night hour, the blanket of darkness washing over your room. Spidey kisses you like he wants you back just as much as you want him.

It's been so long since you've just kissed someone for the sake of kissing, and the realization dawns on you as his tongue meets yours in a delicious, filthy drag.

Spidey pulls your waist to him and slides both your bodies down so you're lying flat against the bed; through the fog that his kisses create on your mind, you realize how easily he moves you.

As if you weigh nothing. Then, it dawns on you—to him, you don't.

That pulls a groan from the pits of your gut.

Spidey's mouth on your swallows it down, and your fingers start grasping and holding on to whatever bits of hair it can reach underneath his mask.

Slowly, his body descents on yours and he lets you feel some of his on weight too. His tall, slender figure covers yours in the best way possible, and you lose yourself to the feeling of kissing him.

How long had it been since you wanted someone so bad to the point of just kissing, and feeling?

He seems to be in the same predicament if your judgment is not too cloudy. Spidey pulls back for air eventually and you whine, chasing the feeling of his lips.

His smile makes your heart do stupid, crazy things inside your chest.

"I've wanted to do this for a while," he breathes close to your mouth. Then, he kisses your jaw. "Didn't know if I could—if I deserved it," he mutters, trailing his mouth from your jawline to your neck. "You always smell so fucking good—why the hell d'you have to smell good?"

That makes you giggle. When pull back to answer him, though, the wide, white bug eyes make your words falter for a moment.

He senses it—Spidey's sense is something out of this world, and with you this close to him, you're sure there's nothing he would miss. "It's weird, right? Is it weird? We can stop—I don't want to, kissing you is the best thing that's happened to me in a while, but we—"

"Spidey," you interrupt. He shuts his mouth and adjusts himself on top of you with either one of his elbows resting on each side of your face. "Do you trust me?"

Without hesitation, he nods. "Yeah."

"Okay," you nod. With determination, you push his body away and he gets the hint, getting off from you. You crawl across the bed towards your double windows and thank the skies that you're the kind of person who's a night owl.

The black-out curtains were one of the first purchases you made when renting this loft and now, you feel blessed by them for more reasons than allowing you to sleep after long shifts and studying all night long.

When the two of them are closed, your room is blanketed with the darkness of the night-sky, and your vision goes blind.

It's crazy how much your other senses come forward when one of them is deprived.

You can hear perfectly your own breathing and the soft ruffling of your sheets. "Spidey?" You whisper.

"I'm here," he says on the opposite end of your bed.

"Can you see anything?" you ask, crawling back towards the direction of his voice, slowly.

"A little more than you, probably," there's soft laughter very close to you, then you feel a hand wrapping around your wrist. He pulls you to him and now Spidey's sitting with his back to the headboard of your bed, fitted between your pillows.

You crawl on top of him, straddling his lap, feeling your heart beating on your throat.

Your hands feel all the way up to his neck.

When they're there, you cup his neck in your hands and caress the soft skin it finds there. "Hi," you mutter.

All you can feel is the heat of his body underneath you. "Hi," he whispers back. His head leans forward and your foreheads touch. "How the hell did I fall on your hands of all the hands in this hell-hole of a city?"

It comes out as a breathless whisper, but it makes your insides curl.

He speaks it in such a reverent way that it's impossible for you to not feel it. "I'm glad you did." You lean forward, giving him enough time to back away and when he doesn't, you press a soft, chaste kiss on his lips. "Can we—can we kiss more? The curtains—I just closed so you'd feel more comfortable," you confess. "You don't have to take the mask off, but I can't see you now."

"I know. I know," Spidey nods, and you feel another kiss pressed on your lips. "It's just—," he swallows thickly, and his hands on your waist pull you flushed against his chest. "Gimme a second."

You sit there, waiting.

Every movement of his body is now felt by you—every inch of his body is pressed against yours, and because you can, you wrap your legs around his waist, locking your heels together.

That's when you feel it—you're adjusting yourself on his lap when Spidey's left arm comes up to the back of his neck, and he grips the back of his mask.

The sound of the material being pulled off makes your heart beat faster.

He trusts me. Oh, god, he really, actually trusts me.

"This is better, right?" His voice sounds lower.

Raspier—more serious. His arm around your waist and underneath your ass secures its grip, and you nod. "I... thank you. For trusting me, Spidey-boy," you chuckle, feigning nonchalance to try and mask how much your heart is trying to beat out of your chest.

He laughs too, the same nervous undertone as yours in his mirth, and then kisses you. "I wish I could do this in the light of the day," his voice carries so much that you wonder if this is what you were both chasing when the hug turned into a kiss. Spidey almost sounds on the verge of tears underneath you, and you can tell these are words he's been holding back for a while now. "I wish—D'you get why I don't? I'm—It terrifies me. If I'm me and I meet you, and then someone who's Spider's enemy discovers my identity—it's you they'll go after, Y/n. I've been there before. They can't go after you. D'you get that?"

"I do," you kiss him quiet, and you both lose yourselves in it.

He worries. All those times thinking he didn't want to spend time with me—he just worries.

The thought multiples, and grows like a tree in your mind. It spills over in the kiss.

He wants you, and thought about it, too. He's been protecting you, guarding you against the fact that his double life comes with consequences.

When he pulls back again, you whine in protest. "No—get back here," now that you can, you grab a fistful of his hair.

Spidey groans against your lips, laughing. "Hold on."

"No," you protest, and smash your smiling lips on his again.

Spidey lets you, and the kiss is nothing but two smiles pressed together for the first moment. It takes a couple of pecks and the sweet drag of his bottom lip over your mouth to open you up.

The way he kisses is intoxicating.

It makes you feel like someone new—it sparks something inside of you. It takes so much to make you comfortable and willing, needy and receptive, but his touches all land in the right places.

The kiss builds up. More than touching, it senses like a delivery. All of his wounds are forgotten, and all of your worries dissipate. Nothing but the drag of his tongue against yours and his hands gripping your body tight resonate on your mind, and Spidey uses his hands to guide your arms up—he holds you by the elbow and guides your hands until they reach up, touching his face.

You gasp in his mouth.

"It's ok," he whispers. You feel his smile, and swallow the knot on your throat.

"You sure?"

"Uhum."

Tentatively, you let your hands explore over his face.

It's so real and terrifying to trace the outline of his jawline, the shape of his lips, and his full eyebrows that everything else becomes silent. Spidey lets you do it, allows your hands to draw his features in your mind, caresses over his closed eyelids.

The thought slips out of you in a breathless whisper,

"You're so pretty."

He chuckles, and his legs slide up higher, trapping you inside his hold. "Ah—thanks."

You bite your lip, feeling your mind go hazy.

Underneath you, he's not exactly soft anymore. Both of you must be highly aware of that fact, or at least, you are. It makes you burn, and the core between your legs feels twice hotter since the moment you sat down.

You don't know how far he wants to take this, but stopping kissing him is out of the question. "Hey, Spidey—"

"Peter."

It's a whisper.

It catches you, like a trap in the woods.

Peter.

"I imagine there are enough around there for me to let you have at least this," he whispers, and when his lips are on yours again, they tremble.

Peter.

You kiss him, and melt in his arms in the process. When he pulls apart for air again, you whisper. "Hey, Peter."

"Yeah?"

"Please, don't stop."

Peter takes a deep breath underneath you.

"You don't want me to stop?" He asks, his arms squeezing around you.

Not to stop what, you're unsure. Whatever it is, you're sure of the answer. Shaking your head, you whisper. "No."

Don't stop kissing me.

Don't stop touching me.

Don't leave. Don't go anywhere. Don't leave. Please, don't leave.

Whatever part of your thoughts he hears, he takes it to heart, and pushes all the answers from his lips to yours.

His name is Peter.

That's the first thing you catalog now, and they start webbing one into the other.

Number one, Peter's an excellent kisser.

He knows when to grab you by the hair and guide you where he wants you to be, and knows when to let you take control. He allows you to play with his hair, to grab his face, scratch his nape—all that you have to offer, he's willing to take. Peter lets you bite and nibble on his bottom lip, and in return, he sucks your tongue inside his mouth. It's like a push and pull, a game of wits that one of you is winning, and so is the other one.

Number two, Peter's got a mouth on him.

You discover it the first time he pulls back for much needed air and takes his breaths hiding in the cusp of your neck, with his hands getting bolder and learning the outlines of other parts of your body now—like your stomach, your ribs and your breats. He holds the new parts he finds, and grips the one he likes the most. It pulls mewls and whines out of you, and that's when he first chuckles against your skin, all malice and desire.

"You're sensitive here?" He asks, grabbing your sides. "Or here?" His hands run up to your boobs, cupping them in his hands. "Fuck. D'you know how many times I had to think about the vilest things I've ever seen to distract myself from these right on my face? My line of sight? Fuck, Y/n, they're so soft."

His mouth goes from its trail on your shoulders to your collarbones, pulling on your sleeping shirt to get more access to the space between your tits.

"Wanna kiss them so bad—can I kiss them, pretty?"

"Peter."

"God—teaching you my name's the best idea I've ever fucking had," Peter laughs, with more genuinity and happiness than you've ever heard. "Was that a yes? Can I? Say 'yeah, Peter'."

"Peter."

"Alright, I can take a hint." Peter's hands were quick.

That was Number Three: Peter was quick.

It was an easy fact to forget or overlook, but impossible to let it go once you felt it. Peter had agile fingers and a lot more dexterity in his pinky than most men would ever dream to accomplish with their whole bodies, their entire goddamn lives.

"Peter."

It's your winning word of the night, and the one that rings in your ears when the realization of how hard he already is underneath you hits.

Number four: Peter's not little anywhere.

It's the last fact you're able to register before your notion to count, think, or do anything other than whine and beg come to play.

"Y/n," his hands get a grip on your waist.

The waist that's grinding on him, chasing the outline of his cock and how good it feels fitted between your folds. There's only your your baby doll between you and his sweatpants, and the state his kisses left you is already leaving a spot of wetness on his clothes.

"It's too hot," you whine, and Peter nods on your neck.

"Can I take it off? Our clothes?"

"Yeah."

Your mind swims as he relocates you to his side to undress you. The darkness and Peter start to mingle as one, and this all might as well be a dream.

It feels like one, and tastes like one, too.

He takes off your clothes slowly, and you lay with your back on the bed as your ears pick up him removing his own clothes. Yours, technically, but with his smell. Images of you with the sweater he's wearing tonight over the course of the week flash on your mind—sniffing the material to get a sense of him when he's away. Pathetic, and yet true.

When he lays his body over yours this time, it's only your skin against his.

You swallow thickly, embracing the heat. Your lower back's starting to sweat, as is your temple, but you gladly take it, because the heat Peter brings warms you from the inside out.

He kisses you again, and your legs come up to wrap around his thighs. "Peter."

"Yeah, pretty?"

"Want more."

"You want more?" His waist grinds down. Peter's tall enough to cover your body with his, and his pelvis fits right on yours. The outline of his cock brushing with your folds makes you ever wetter, even needier. "D'you have condoms? I can't carry diseases, but I think you don't want the mess."

OH, god. Your mind blanks, resets, then restarts.

"Get inside me. Right. Now."

Your assertiveness is met with laughter, but is dies on his throat when he lines himself up with you.

The thrust is mutual, and with only a few movements of his waist, there he is.

It's more than just fucking.

There's no rush. No despair.

Peter's vocal with how good you feel—so tight, so good around me, so good, pretty. He's patient, and too damn attentive to every twitch of your body on his.

Peter's strong, and the difference between any previous hook-ups to him is made obvious when he stays there, holding himself with his forearms over you, his hips thrusting inside with no struggle. He eventually moves you on top of him again to let you take control, and holds your whole weight when it gets too much.

He wants you to feel good, and wants you to know that he's feeling good, too.

It may be the continuous, rhythmic movement of your bodies together, grinding on one another and holding tight on your arms and whatever part your hands can reach, or the way he alternates between kissing you and whispering the filthiest compliments to you and how good it feels, your pussy feels so fucking good, pretty.

It may be all that or the fact that it's intimate, it's needed.

Peter builds your orgasm up from the inside—knits the whole thing with his hands and his patience, because all he wants is to feel you all around him.

When it comes, it's a waves washing over a shore.

"Peter—feels too good, too good." Reasoning and stringing sentences together was an ability lost when he sat you on his lap and bounced you up and down for the first time, hitting every single spot inside of you.

He understands you just fine. His sweaty locks between your fingers feel almost as good as his grunts and whines pressed right on the middle of your chest. "I know, baby, I know." God, his whines are fucking music. "Oh my god, you're a sap," he laughs.

And oh—, "I said it?"

"You did," he groans. "You're gonna make me cum like this, pretty." Peter grabs your nape and crashes your mouths together, changing the angle of his legs.

With his feet planted on the bed and the headboard as leverage, he can thrust upwards and hit right on your G spot. By your scream, he figures that out pretty quickly.

"Oh my god."

"Oh, you're clenching on me—you gonna cum, pretty?" Peter smacks your ass, and his hand on your nape glides down through the sweat, lower and lower. It wraps on your neck lightly, as if testing the waters, and when you bend your neck backward, Peter's thrusts become erratic.

His hand grips your neck just right.

"Do it. Lemme see, c'mon. Cum on me, baby. Can I cum in you? You want that?" Peter's words are met with incoherent babbles, and you're officially cock drunk now—the bouncing gets louder, the sounds filling up the walls of your room and the heat emanating from your bodies could power up the whole block, probably.

"Please."

"Please what?" He growls.

"Please cum in me," you cry, feeling your legs starting to weaken.

It's okay because he's got you—Peter holds your waist and pounds into you. "Who d'you want to cum in you, pretty? Say it. Say my name, please—"

"PETER, please! Please cum in me. Please, please—"

"Oh my fucking god," Peter cries, and his thumb comes up to rub on your clit at the same time as you feel the heat and the twitching inside of you.

When Peter cums, a part of you blacks out.

Your orgasm is pulled from you in a crashing wave, and he rides it with his mouth on your ear, whispering words that flow in the background.

"You did so good. ... Oh, god. So perfect—you're fucking perfect, baby."

It takes you a while to come back from it.

Everything is still, and his breathing underneath yours connects your chests.

"Peter?"

He shifts his head, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Hm? You okay?"

"... You'll stay, right?"

Peter takes one heartbeat, and then presses a kiss on the juncture of your neck and your shoulder. "'Course." He kisses your cheek. "I've got morning lectures, but—I'll stay. You want me to stay, right?"

"Yes. Please."

"Then I'll stay."

Peter keeps his promise, and you wonder how something you've dreamt of before is the reality that you fall asleep in.

You wonder which will be the reality you wake up to.

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• PART THREE •