#tasm peter parker

[liz-allyn]

sugar and vice, pt. 21 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!oc]

summary: still don't know my name.

words: 5 k

chapter warning: blood and smut. a lot of it. in detail.

series warnings: mob-typical bang bang violence, hurt/comfort. Spicy situations. spousal abuse. family trauma. PTSD, psychotic breaks/episodes, drug use. coercion. manipulation. kidnapping. gore. blood. possessive!peter, protective!peter. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships.

This version of TASM Peter is not canon. The relationships and characters here are not healthy.

Don't date a mob boss.™️

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you

don't know the connection between cartoons and Saturday mornings

don't remember a time when phones didn't have touchscreens

never had to listen to the CRINK CRINK CRINK of winding up a camera to take a picture

= if one or more of these elements apply to you, you may be entitled to compensation, which you should come back for when you're 18.

Back to Part 20.

A/N Might be a good time to throw on the official Sugar and Vice Spotify playlist...

Part 21

“You still with me?” Peter asked so softly it could be a croon. 

The sound startled her. Her body went rigid from where she sat on the bathroom floor. She pushed her back against the ebony-stained vanity, her legs tucked under the blanket of her arms. The whole moment felt eerie, overwhelmed with a sense of deja vu in the sanctuary of Peter’s bathroom. Exquisite black marble, gold fixtures, and ivory subway tile surrounded her; by contrast, her blood-splattered appearance was ghastly.

At least she wasn’t the only one. 

She didn’t know how much time had passed since she murdered John. All she knew was that his blood had gone cold and tacky on her skin. Peter had called for Felicia to back them up immediately, warning her “if I see anyone else’s face but yours, I’m puttin’ a bullet in it.” 

Ironically, he said this with the phone pressed against one shoulder while he ripped a sleeve from his suit jacket to use as a bandage around his bullet wound. Despite his injuries, he carried her in his arms from the carnage, instructing her to keep her cloudy eyes on his face until they were secure.

As soon as they crossed the threshold of his bedroom, Peter reached for a hidden panel on the wall near the frame. She heard the whirring of an electronic device and the pressurized hiss of something moving within the wall. Seconds later, the doorway was sealed with a steel door, locked down tighter than a bank vault.

He brought her to the bathroom, gingerly placing her down before ripping open a drawer, vigilantly loading another weapon hidden inside. He kept it close, peeking briefly beneath the makeshift bandage on his arm. His white dress shirt was torn, splattered with merlot hues. 

She kept her eyes forward, breathing steadily through her nose. 

The next few minutes were filled with pacing, fidgeting, and clenched fists. He muttered useless words, mostly reassurances that she knew he couldn’t promise and apologies he didn’t need to make. After confirmation from Felicia via an intercom system that the Penthouse was secure, Peter finally began to relax.

Honey still wondered if anything was real. Maybe her entire existence was a crazy, fever-dream. A dark fairytale filled with heroes and monsters. Kings. And Demons. And Robots. And Prince Charming. 

“It’s okay,” Peter gently reminded her as he kneeled before her. Hearing his voice pulled her back to the present. Slowly, he brought his hands up to the sides of her face. Her eyes fluttered closed when she felt the rough pads of his thumbs brushing away her tears. 

That dizzy feeling hit her again, and she tried to swallow it down. When her eyes opened, she saw her friend staring back at her, the shadow of a smile adorning his face. Tears budded in the corners of his whiskey eyes. Chocolate, oranges, and the golden hue of an Old Fashioned.

She leaned her cheek into his palm, nuzzling it as she gazed up at him anxiously. 

“Need ya to trust me, okay?” he cooed as if their minds were synced. “Is it okay if I help you get cleaned up?” Innocently, his eyes traveled down her neck to her shoulders and the carnage beneath them. He took in the sight of her, chewing his bottom lip. “Just... just wanna take care of you, alright? Nothin’ else.”

He waited. She nodded.

“Okay, jus’-just take my hands, and I’m gonna help you stand up, okay?” He turned over his palms and waited for her to them. She did.

He came to a gentle stand, pulling her up with him. “Are you hurt anywhere? Are you in pain?”

She paused. Shook her head. 

“Good, good, good,” he breathed in relief. He placed a hand on her lower back, keeping her other hand tight within his, and took a step forward with her. Gently, he guided her across the bathroom up to the glass of the enormous, obsidian walk-in shower that took up half of the room. 

He stepped inside and twisted the golden knobs on the wall. A wide column of rain showered from the ceiling, clouds of steam forming around it.

She stood with arms wrapped around her soiled camisole top, which clung uncomfortably to her skin. Quietly, she observed him as he fussed with the shower handles, dipping his hand in the stream, before diligently adjusting the temperature until it was perfect. 

His movements were somewhat frantic, as if he were completing a checklist. The next move was to unbutton his destroyed shirt and tenderly peel it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. His belt was next as he undid the trousers and stepped out of them. 

“Peter.”

Her voice was silent as falling snow, but he snapped his head in her direction, eyes wide at attention. “Yeah? What’s wrong? Do... d’you not... I... I can-I can turn around, or-or leave, if-if you want... I-I-I’ll do whatever you want.”

She fixed him with eyes that were almost surreal. They glistened something meek and melancholic in their depths. At the same time, there was a sense of uneasy awe, her fascination fueling a frightening notion. Whatever her mind was thinking of, she was both timid of it as much as she was tempted by it.

And it terrified him. “Jus’... jus’ tell me what you need. Whatever you want.” He gazed at her worriedly, afraid that she was drifting into the darkness away from him. He took her hand firmly in his own, worried she might be lost in the galaxy.

It took centuries to find her voice. “I... I want... I want to know...” she fumbled clumsily, her lips parted as she gazed at his. “I want you to tell me that I’m good.”

Peter’s breath hitched as something sharp twisted in his chest. He pursed his lips together, eyes filled with sadness. “Oh, Honey...” he breathed out. Unshed tears gathered at his lower lashes as he gazed upon her with a tragic heart. Carefully, he inched closer to her.

She watched him struggle to find his words, and when he did there was a tremor in his voice. “Honey,” he slowly repeated, bringing his hands up to embrace her cheeks. “What happened back there...” He winced as his throat bobbed. “Wh-what you just did... was… it was necessary.”

He bit down on his lower lip to keep it still. It occurred to her that he was having flashbacks. He was remembering a pair of green eyes that fixed him with a similar brokenhearted gaze.

“You saved our lives,” he breathed with resolve. “You saved my life.” Peter caressed her cheek, staring down at her like a goddess. Each touch was a gospel of gratitude. “You were strong and smart, and so... so incredibly brave.” He lamented with an aching heart, “Don’t ever forget that. You did the right thing.”

“Peter—” 

“Of course, Honey. Of course, you’re good—”

“Peter, stop.”

He held his breath, blinking curiously. 

“That’s not what I meant,” she softly replied. He watched the way her eyes trailed from his, back down to his mouth. She inched closer to him, breathing through parted lips, stopping only when she could feel the heat radiating off of his chest. Peter barely registered the labored breathing clawing from both their chests.

Her eyes were dark. And they were ablaze. Darkness and light. Fire roared inside them. Curiously, Peter observed how she burned and fixed him with a look that could incinerate him where he stood.

He suddenly gasped at the most gentle of sensations, shuddering like his whole body had been electrified. Her delicate fingers brushed over the cotton of his trunks, cupping his bulge. Mouth agape, he turned to putty. Clay for her to mold however she saw fit.

Entranced, she watched his reaction, hunger written on her features. “You said I can have anything I want,” she said in a devious tone. “I wanna ride you, Peter.”

His breath hitched as he felt her tiny hands pull back the elastic of his trunks and sneak inside. He gaped at the feeling of her warm fingers stroking the delicate skin of his shaft. 

She chanted dangerously, her desire drawing the sounds from her belly, “I want to feel you... all of you...”

Peter trembled as her hand tightened, glancing down for a brief second. If he lingered on the sight of her hand jutting out of his briefs for too long, he was afraid he’d pass out and die.

“I want your cock...” she cooed with a filthy tone, sliding down her hand from base to head. Her fingertips brushed across the tip, smearing the silky wetness leaking out. His erection had come to life in record time, straining against his trunks. “I want it buried in me so deep,” she breathed, “that I can feel you in my belly.”

Peter groaned as she rubbed her palm over his head, lubricating his shaft with his precum as she drove it back down the sides. His lashes fluttered shut, face twisted in torture.

“I wanna feel you inside days after,” she declared, her voice heavy and erotic. She slid her hand up and brought it back down again, with a slow twist of her wrist as she approached the head. He grunted at the sensation, hunger building up as his abs tightened and twitched.

“I want you to fill me. Everywhere.”

He flicked his eyes open, gazing down at her through heavy lids and a slightly lifted chin. He dragged each exhale out from his core, the heat of his lungs rivaling the steam of the shower.

“With your body. With your cum.”

The filth of her words shocked his cock to attention, mesmerized by her sudden dominance. He brought his hand to rest on her lower back, pulling her closer. Part of the reasoning was self-interest, allowing her a better angle to pump his dick, her languid pace increasing with each jerk. The other reason was to steady himself, keeping his knees from buckling and reassuring himself that he wasn’t dreaming.

“I want you to make me take it all,” she groaned lustfully, sending another jolt down his shaft. She tightened her grip as she pumped up and down. The intensity of her words increased with her speed. “All night... Every night... For the rest of my life.”

Peter gasped at the thought, choking back a moan. His forehead briefly dipped to rest on hers before he straightened himself and poured his lustful gaze into her wanton eyes.

“No shame. No guilt. I want you to fuck me like I can’t get enough,” she breathed hotly. A mix of fluids lubricated his cock. She melted as noticed his hips meeting her palm with tiny uncontrollable thrusts.

“‘Til I’m weak... ‘Til I beg you to stop because I couldn’t possibly come anymore.”

Dizzy with desire, he glanced down at the lewd sight, mouth falling agape at the depravity. Blood from their bodies had crept down her wrist, coating her hand. His thick erection was tinted with blood, both from the inside and coating the outside. 

His voice strained and shattered beneath an irrepressable moan. Even if she stopped speaking at that moment, he was sure he’d explode from the debauched sight alone.

“After that, I want you to hold me close,” she muttered, heartwrenching need infiltrating the throaty sound of her chants. “And I want you to tell me I’m a good girl.” 

Longingly, he found her eyes and was trapped there, a loyal subject strapped down and helpless to her ministrations. Clenching his canines, he fixed her with a hungry expression that promised all she asked and more. Her whole body shuddered at that look. She dripped with desire, achingly wet, as she felt his fingertips dig trails behind her back. 

“And then I want you to hold me down and fuck me all over again.”

Peter snapped, letting out a deep groan that reverberated in his chest, snatching her lips up in his. She moaned at the burn of his beard on her lips, shuddering as his tongue glided over hers. His grip crushed her chest to his. He pulled back a moment, panting. Her lips tasted like tears and blood and all he wanted was to eat her alive.

“Fuck,” he muttered breathlessly, gazing at her with eyes that begged his body to let them fuck her first. “C’mere—”

He scooped her into his grasp, pulling her into the shower stream. His hands were tantric, everywhere at once. She released his erection, instead wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. 

His tongue pried her lips open. Once inside, it dominated hers, pushing back her head until a whimper stirred in her throat. She trembled and gasped as his free hand reached up beneath the camisole’s front, sliding beneath the sticky fabric to knead her breast.

Her mouth fell open, a helpless sigh breezing over the roar of the shower. Hot water poured over them, but it felt cold on their bodies and did little to put out the flame within. She mewled at the feeling of his rough fingertips teasing her nipple and his tongue forcing her mouth open further. Peter tipped her back into an arc, his slippery arms somehow locking her in place as his lips set fire to her neck.

He kissed away the stains of the past while she desperately tried to rid herself of her joggers, all while simultaneously grinding her core on his thigh. As soon as he sensed what she wanted, he pulled back to remove the camisole. It tore apart like tissue paper in his grip, exposing her cranberry-stained chest to him.

He peeled it off her arms, then hooked his fingers in her waistband, shoving it down to her ankles. She returned the action with hungry eyes and greedy hands, yanking his trunks down to land the pooling crimson on the shower floor. Her mouth fell open at the sight of his erection bobbing free.

The drain ran red, as did their lust. In moments they were both bare skinned, with nothing but red rivers and rain droplets between them. Hurriedly, she reached for his cock again, returning to the pace she’d set earlier. 

After a couple of quick pumps, Peter snatched up her hands, denying her control. He pushed her back against the tiled wall, pinning her wrists above her head. 

“Gah—yea-yes!” she heaved desperately with a moan. His hands shackled her wrists to the wall, while his lips attacked the junction of her shoulder and neck. He sucked tiny, raspberry-colored welts alongside the rusty art pieces that hung on her skin, using his tongue to redecorate her body.

“So fuckin’ good,” he muttered like a man possessed, bending his neck to get a better angle. “So fuckin’ sexy...”

Honey squeaked as his mouth surrounded her nipple, his teeth and beard scraping gently. She gazed down at the lewd image of him suckling on her breast with bloody lips. She winced, her cunt shamefully clenching at the sight. He playfully nipped at the flesh beneath her nipple before returning his lips to her jawline. 

“Aah, aghh, Peter, please!” she gasped.

“Please, what, baby? You wan’me to stop?”

“No, don’stop don’stop—”

“Gotta use your words, baby girl—”

“I need you inside me!” she cried out. “Please...!” 

“Please?”

“Please, Peter, fuck me! I need—”

“Ah-ah-ah,” he tutted in a tone that was almost cruel. “I know what you need.”

He then lowered one of his hands, dragging it slowly down her cheek, then her throat, applying extra pressure over her voice box, and further down her breast to the round of her belly. Driving further, he pivoted his wrist, caressing her folds with the delectable calluses on his fingers. 

“Gotta get you ready for me…” 

Her breath hitched as he wasted no time sliding his middle finger into her core. She preened beneath him, perched on her toes with her arms pinned above her head, panting with every swirl of his digit. 

“Fuuuck, you’re so wet.” 

He intently observed each micro-movement of her enraptured expression. It was a mouth-watering display, his cherry lips falling open at the sight. Thunder rumbled deep in his chest.

“Ya like that?” His hot breath tickled the shell of her ear.

She mewled, desperately nodding her head. 

“Ya want more?”

“pleasepleasepleaseyes—”

His ring finger joined the first, languidly—teasingly penetrating her core. “Oooh, there ya go…that’s it… spread your legs...”

She brought up one thigh, planting her heel against the wall. Her pelvic bone bucked as she opened up her hips obediently, allowing his palm more access to smooth over her clit. Her desire turned feral as she ground her pussy into his hand. Licking his lips, he gawked lasciviously as his fingertips touched places in her she didn’t know existed.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed insatiably over her obscene cries.

He tightened the tendons in his arm, speeding up the pace at which he rubbed her clit. Her heart hammered in her chest and in his ears like a drum. Her lashes fluttered, gazing longingly into his desire.

“That’s it, ’s’okay, princess. Use me. Grind that pretty pussy against my hand. Gonna feel so good.”

She looked so pure in her ecstasy, and so depraved in the impurity of it all. It made him weak. Obsessed, he followed the current of hot water and blood cresting over her curves, joining the juices on his fingers. 

“God, you make me so hard… ya don’even—ugh— C’mon, almost there, baby. Doin’ so good...”

With a choked mewl, she gushed around his fingers. He groaned as he felt her core twitch and flutter. He touched her through her high, as long as he possibly could wait, impatiently releasing her wrists and lowering to his knees as she came down. He dragged his mouth across her body, pressing open-mouth kisses to her skin. 

It was only when she neared the twilight of her climax that she noticed him kneeling in front of her thighs. She mewled warily, and he fixed her with a devilish smile.

“Now…lemme taste you, baby,” he whispered with a selfish, needy lilt in his voice.

Prying her thighs apart, he hooked one of them over his shoulder. She gasped, bracing herself carefully against the wall, squirming in his hold. With his tongue, he spread her open, greedily teasing as he licked into her entrance. 

“Y’taste so good...” 

Peter’s breathy voice pitched into a near whine as he ravished her with his tongue. It was an obscene sound that could coax an orgasm from her without ever touching her. Voraciously, he dragged his tongue from her entrance to her clit, kissing the bud tenderly. He teased it with kitten licks, making her tremble above him.

“I gotcha,” he whispered, noting her distress. “Don’t worry, I’ll give ya what’chu want, princess. Gonna spoil you.”

She whimpered as he devoured her. Her eyes swam looking down through the clouds of steam to his crown of soppy brown curls. She watched his eyes flutter shut, locked on her cunt like it was a prayer. He worshiped her honeysuckle lips, weak for the taste. She wondered if he was prone to addiction from the way he indulged himself. 

The intense memory of the first time he ate her out washed over her. The vision excited her and tightened the coil in her belly, drawing a needy groan from her mouth. His eyes shot open at the sound, peering up at her through the crimson-streaked valley between her breasts. 

When their eyes met, she felt more than an orgasm coming. A white-hot surge of energy was bursting from her core. It was a comforting sensation and an equally dangerous one. 

It was more than safety. It was power.

Not just the metaphorical ‘power’ in her relationship, or even ‘power’ over her own sexuality. She wielded both of those and more. It was a different kind of power, having been baptized in the fire roaring beneath Roosevelt Avenue, and now christened with the blood of her tormenter.

It was barbarically satisfying. She wondered if this is what Peter felt when she saw him at his most savage. In the train station. Inside the VIP lounge of Web. Bloody and gloriously brutal. Conquering his enemies. Defending what was his. 

She was his.

If he was Ruler of the Underworld, she was his Spring. 

She saved his life. 

That made him hers.

Her fate was hers. Her life was hers. 

And she knew exactly who she wanted to spend it with. 

“Peter…”

How she wanted to spend her time in this world.

If Heaven was the moment you want to live in for all eternity, and that moment was now within her grasp, did that make her a god?

“God, Peter, oh... yes—”

“Give it all to me, love. Be a good girl—”

Back arching off the wall, the blood in her body crashed towards her center in a tide of pleasure. He growled as she came in his mouth, his lips eagerly moaning around her folds. This time he didn’t stop, despite how painfully hard he was. Devotedly, he milked her pleasure, drawing it out in waves. 

“Gahhh—pleaseplease— s’too much—”

“You can take it, Honey. I know you can. You’re doin’ so well— so good for me. My sweet, good little girl...”

Possessed by a new fervor, she rode his lips again to another orgasm. He rewarded her, again and again with his mouth, until vertigo began to set in.

Through the haze, she heard him whisper, “We don’t have to keep going.” 

Peter’s voice was as gentle as a feather, a vast contrast from the gravelly, desperate tone he’d had while on his knees. 

Towering over her, he leaned his forearm against the wall above them while the other forearm wrapped around her pulsating torso. He clung her to his heart, drawing circles on her shoulder blade. Patiently, he waited for Honey to float back down to the Earth. Meanwhile, he relished in the warmth of her labored breaths across his skin.

“We can stop right now,” he muttered in secret.

Slowly, she leaned back to peer up at him beneath her wet lashes. “Do you wanna stop?”

He drowned himself in the depths of her eyes while he choked down his needs. “You don’t owe me anything. I don't wanna take what you’re not ready to give.”’

The longer she gazed at him, the dizzier she became. She felt intoxicated as if his eyes were indeed made of bourbon. “I’m ready,” she said. “M’ready to give you the world.”

His gaze softened. The sentiment sparkled in their amber hues, and his stomach took flight on the backs of butterflies. “You’re my world.”

She swayed in the wind of their colorful wings. “Lucky for you, then.”

Her smile lit up his life. Had he not been desperate to kiss her, it would’ve killed him to cover it up. He embraced the darkness, making sure it was worth it. Peter felt his heart bursting as he kissed her deeply, the intensity of which made them both lightheaded. 

They parted lips, and he gazed down at her with half-lidded eyes. “You sure?”

She touched her nose to his. “Yes, Peter. Please.”

A tremor racked through him, despite his eagerness. He pressed another kiss to her lips as he lined himself up to her core. Trembling, he was so hard that even the slightest brush made him ache. Desire dripping from his shaft, he pressed the head of his cock up against her entrance.

“You tell me,” he breathed, his eyes fixed on hers, “If you wanna stop. Just say the word... if it’s too much.”

Her fingers scaled the nape of his neck, brushing idly over an old scar. As she carded them into his hair, she scraped her nails through his scalp, drawing a hiss and triggering a jolt she could feel against her cunt.

“You, too,” she murmured, pushing her tongue past his ravaged lips. 

He breathed deep and slow, steadily applying pressure. The burn of their union was so intense, they both thought they’d melt. Peter groaned as Honey slid tightly over his head, his hands gripping the backs of her thighs to control her descent.

Gasping through an open mouth, she cried out as she neared the base. He stilled immediately, kissing away her budding tears. “So good, baby... So, so good...” The squeeze of her hips on his cock was a drug in itself. “So tight for me.”

He lapped up her pornographic moan, lowering her further down his shaft. A soft mewl echoed from his chest, as he muttered her pet name in exasperation. A moment later, he was fully seated inside of her, with her back pressed against the wall and her thighs in his grip. 

Slowly, he moved his hips.

Heaven. He was in Heaven. It was the only explanation that made sense. Peter gazed at the ecstasy unfolding in her enraptured face. His hungry eyes glanced down to steal a sinful glimpse where he impaled her. He thrust his hips adding a dizzying jolt of electricity. 

He was obsessed with the view, watching his cock slip in and out of her folds. 

This was a dream. 

It was better than a dream. 

They spoke an ancient language, made up of carnal sounds and heartwrenching sighs. With every roll of their hips, they wrote another line of their declaration together. Another verse of the vow they made to each other.

“God, you’re so perfect,” he breathed as his pace picked up. “Such an angel...”

“I’m-m’ not,” she muttered through gasps of air. It was hard to form a response when she could feel his reach all the way up in her brain. “I’m not innocent—”

“You’re mine,” Peter growled defiantly. “That’s all that matters. I know what I said. I don’t care if it’s wrong to say. Don’t care if it makes me sound possessive, or whatever... M’done pretending I don’t wan’it to be true. You’re mine, ya hear me? All of you. Your innocence. Your sweetness. Your sins.” 

With a gutteral groan he jerked his hips up, pulling a desperate, wet sigh from her mouth. 

“I want it all,” he said in a throaty whisper. “Wanna give you everything y’want. Anything.” 

His voice got weaker as his hips pivoted upwards to strike even deeper. He was completely in control of her hips, hooking his elbows beneath her knees and opening a new gateway to her soul.

“s s-s-so deep...”

“Ya like that?”

“Uh-huh...”

“You wan’me t’keep goin’?”

“Ye-yeah...”

“Wan’me to take you? Keep ya next to me forever? You’ll never want for anything again. Never be afraid again. Swear to god, no one else’ll touch you ever again—”

“Ugh, god... Peter... You’re so fucking hot—”

“M’gonna make love to you every night. Gonna make you scream for me.”

Her cries got louder, moans twisting up into a higher octave. Her pussy clenched around him with each of his words, drawing a hiss from him. She gripped his shoulders for balance as he fucked up into her, pinning her hips against the wall and bestowing her with pleasure.

“M’gonna fill you up,” he babbled, voice trembling. “Ga-gonna breed you, princess. Fill you with my cum, my babies... n’anything else you want. Just say it, an’it’s yours, Honey. Gonna make you a mommy, and you’re gonna make me a daddy.”

Her cunt quivered at the word, triggering a flood of sin washing over her body. “Fuck!”

“That’s it... my naughty girl. S’okay, good girls can be naughty sometimes—”

“Fuck, Peter, you’re gonna make me come.”

“God, if you clench around me right now, I’m gonna lose it. Gonna blow my load and pass the fuck out—”

“I wan’it.. Wan’it s-so bad.”

“S’at right?”

“Please, ah—egnh—god, please! Wanna be good for you. So good for you, daddy—”

Their words collapsed into meaningless cries and shattered sentences— godyesyesyes— comeonmycockbaby— as they worked each other towards a divine release. 

Honey pulled him deeper into her center, tightening around him as she felt a whip crack in her gut. Relishing in the flutter and spasming inside her core, his hips sputtered. He groaned as he released inside of her, filling her with his seed and his very soul.

Peter held her steady with wobbly legs, barely able to use his strength as the blinding lights cleared from his vision. He opened his eyes to look upon her blissed-out face, wondering how on Earth can someone make him stronger and weaker in the same moment.

Even as he conquered his darkness, she commanded the light in his heart. She was always his Queen, and he was a slave to the fruit of her hive.

“I want you to ask me, Peter,” she mumbled weakly. He was still seated inside of her.

“Ask you what?” He breathed heavily in her hold.

“I want you to ask me again. For my hand.”

He went still. Heart stopped. Breath turning to frost in his chest. 

Coyly, his honey-hued eyes saught hers with the timidness of a fawn. He was afraid to move. Afraid that a twig snap could chase this moment away. Unsure of what he’d heard and what day it was and what year it was and what he ever thought he was going to do with his life had he never walked in to that shop—

“But I don’t want you to ask me yet.” Her eyes shimmered and the sight made his heart swell. He curled a brow upwards as he considered her remark. 

“I want you to wait... just for a little while... until I know I’ve become the person you’d want to ask.” 

Heaven. Peter was certain of it now. No other explanation made sense. A smile curled his lips as he gazed at her longingly. His affection soared above the clouds.

“Could you do that for me?” she asked shyly.

He beamed. “Could I wait?” He couldn’t hold back the soft chuckle that spilled out. “Oh, Honey. I’ve been waiting forever for you. I’ll wait until the end of time.” He smirked, “Or... ‘til I’m back in diapers again, if ya want.”

She snorted gently, unable to contain her smile. He giggled at the sound, touching his forehead to hers, and falling in love with her all over again.

And finally, they were both made clean.

To be continued...

A/N thank you for the outpouring of love after the last chapter. a note on our 'Honey':

Her birth name was mentioned, but her name is Honey. In my head, she is an AFAB character with a Hispanic surname, but I've tried hard to avoid descriptions of hair color, skin color, eye color, body shape, or otherwise. In many ways, she's an OC, but she's written like a reader-insert character. I will continue to try to be as inclusive as possible with my writing, while acknowledging that I am limited (and inherently biased) by my narrow, personal experiences, and they don't reflect everyone else's experiences.

Do you feel like you resonate with Honey? Good! Continue to do so. You are Honey. And I love you.

And thanks for reading. 💜

please don't send me hate or discount this whole story over 2 words.

[reysdriver]

Rubbermaid & Web-Boy | P.P.

You're the Black Cat, and you find out the face behind another masked vigilante is more familiar than you ever expected — peter x fem!reader sexual tension

warnings: some adult language

words: 0.9k

a/n: this is so self-indulgent omg I literally just wanted to experience some sexual tension with Andrew Garfield

The cool night breeze swept through your neatly tied white hair as you walked carefully along the banister of a roof above an abandoned building.

Being a hero is boring, you thought to yourself as you pretended to topple on the railing, the tight material of your suit making a small noise.

Perfectly timed, you heard a police siren in the distance. Looking towards the sound, you located the source, seeing the bright red and blue coming from a cop car.

As you were running towards the sound of sirens, you heard a noise behind you, something like a thwip followed by a whoosh, but you elected to ignore it and focus on the criminal activity a few blocks over. You heard it again a few moments later. As much as you wanted to ignore it again, it was an odd noise you knew couldn't be normal. 

You wanted to investigate those strange sounds, but before you could even turn around, you felt yourself being pulled against the wall, but it didn't feel like a person of any sort was doing it.

You looked down at your wrist and saw that it was stuck to a wall, being tied back by a web of some sort. You couldn't pull your hand off of the coarse brick wall, no matter how hard you tried. You looked up from your hand to find a sleek silhouette, dressed in blue and red spandex. You presumed that he was the one to do that to you, and you justifiably got angry. 

"What the fuck?! Let me go!" You said, slightly louder than you had expected.

"(y/n)?" The masked figure said in shock. 

You maintained the tone when you recognized the voice as one of your friends and asked "Peter?"

He froze in his tracks when he realized that he had just revealed his identity to you. "No." He said sheepishly. 

It had taken a second, but you had just realized that he was the so-called 'masked menace' that you had seen pictures and videos of all over the internet and the news. That was your best friend, and he had never told you. But to be fair, you had never told him that you had adopted a vigilante alter ego that you had never told him about either. 

"Peter, I know what your voice sounds like." You told him. "You're the Web-Boy?"

"Spider-Man, actually. And you're the, what, Rubbermaid?" He said, gesturing to your black suit that you had put together yourself. 

You let out a sarcastic laugh. "Very funny, I know the suit's a little rubber-like, but I'm the Black Cat." 

"I've never heard of you." He said. You wondered if he was jealous that there was another hero around Queens. 

"Maybe because I'm just better at this and don't have pictures of me scattered across every news station in New York." 

"Or maybe you're worse, and you just don't do anything newsworthy." 

Now you knew he was jealous of you.

"Excuse you, Parker." You retorted. "Just this week, I've saved a life, stopped five crimes, and even tied a burglar up and left him on the steps of the police station!"

 "Impressive. I've done twice that."

"Asshole." You spat, attempting to move your hand off the wall again.

"I thought you were a criminal!" He defended. "You're the one wearing an all black outfit and a burglar mask!" 

You were repulsed by the idea of being considered a villain, as you stood for justice and goodness. But if you were going to be honest, the idea intrigued you a little. 

"No, but I might become one if you don't let me go."

He laughed and took off his costume mask. You saw his face and could confirm that it was in fact, your best friend Peter Parker behind the webslinger suit the whole time. 

"You don't want to stay here and hang out with me?" He asked in a half-joke tone. “Wow, everything changes when you put on the superhero suit.”

You didn't laugh or say anything back. Instead, you responded by looking at him displeased and then gesturing with your head to your arm stuck being raised next to you. 

"Alright, alright, I'll let you go."

He pulled out a small blade from the black spider on his chest and cut the white strings so to let your hand free.

"What? No, 'thank you'?" Peter asked after he let you go.  

You started to walk away, then walked back to Peter just for a second, long enough for you to throw a quick punch. 

"That's for gluing me to the wall with your webs." You said sassily, then calmed your tone. "Now, don't ever do that again, or I swear I'll do as I promised before and just become a villain to take you down."

He started rubbing his upper arm where you had hit him to soothe it. 

You continued to walk away, but before you could even get off the roof, you heard him call you. "I'll see you in school, (y/n)!"

[sincericida]

Andrew Garfield - aka Peter Parker - promo shoot "The Amazing Spider-Man" (2012, dir. Mark Webb)

❤️‍🔥

[fxvixen]

goddd i just want spider-man's identity to be his own worst but new york city's best kept secret. like i want him unthinkingly taking off his mask and like 20 people see, but if you ask them if they did? no they didn't.

the rule is unwritten, but very enforced. like, there are online communities dedicated to erasing any trace of the spread of his identity. a tourist takes a photo of him and posts it online? it's gone in minutes, and people send DMs to the poster anywhere from "hey, i'm sure you were just excited, but...." to "ill kill u if i evr c you, fuckin bitch".

any information on spider-man is only spread via word of mouth, and only spoken in hushed, awed voices. after several years of spider-man, everyone knows someone who encountered him:

"he saved my cousin. caught a falling billboard from underneath with his bare hands..."

"wow... i've never seen him myself, but he talked to my coworker's daughter for an hour after he stopped a guy from getting a little too handsy. apparently, his smile is 'dreamy'."

these secrets are freely given if you're kind, trustworthy, and show respect for the little guy. but the moment you demand information on him... "i don't know what you're talking about, buddy. he's just an urban legend the news likes to blame the city's problems on so we don't unionize or worse"

so as many times as spider-man ends up with out a mask, or accidentally introduces himself with a name that starts with 'p' and rhymes with 'meter'... on the record, they don't know a thing. because he does his best to help as many people as he can, so it's only fair if they help him a little in return.

[forourmoons]

✪ — oh em gee what about ❛ this is a good look for you. ❜ with peter parker

stained

summary — peter spills a drink on your top at a party.

content — tasm!peterparker x fem!afab!reader, mentions of nudity

note — sorry this is super short! more of a baby blurb!

You sit on the edge of the toilet, naked from the waist up, while Peter is hunched over the bathroom sink, scrubbing at your shirt.

"Peter, just leave it, I'll wash it at home," you say softly. He looks really determined.

He'd spilt his drink all over your top downstairs at the party you're at. He'd felt horrible and insisted that he could get the stain out in the sink. The green stain out of your white top.

Turns out dawn soap and lukewarm water don't do the job. "I'm sorry, baby, really," he frets, holding the top up where it drips into the sink. You're not sure if he's made it better or worse. You appreciate him nonetheless.

"Pete, thank you, really," you start, shifting uncomfortably over the plastic lid. You cross your arms over your chest, where your bra digs into your skin, and look at the wet mess Peter holds in his hands. "It's okay. But now I have no top."

Peter drops the shirt looking really guilty. He feels horrible because he's ruined one of your favourite tops and he's also the reason you're half-naked in some random condo.

"Shit," he curses to himself.

He doesn't think twice. Peeling his jacket off, he stands at your knees and holds it out. "Here," he says bashfully. It's a thin jacket, made of nothing really. It's all you've got and you're not about to start complaining.

You stand to slip it on and hate it when you realise it has no zipper. Or any buttons. You pull it taut over your front and start to feel anxious. "Can you see anything?"

He pulls the collar forwards over your collarbones and smooths it out over your shoulders. "You're safe," he smiles. You watch his throat bob under the skin of his lightly stubbled neck. "It, uh, it looks really good."

"Pete," you groan while tipping your head back. "I'm naked, in the middle of the city, wearing my clumsy boyfriend's jacket, and you're getting turned on?"

"What?" he gawps, clearing his throat, "I am not! You just suit it, that's all."

You pull it tight around your middle and roll your eyes. "You're unbelievable."

He plays with the hem between his fingers, keeping his eyes planted to the floor momentarily. "It's a good look on you."

You straighten your back and ignore the way he's making you feel. Time and place you remember. "Right, we're going outside unnoticed and you're gonna hail a cab with those long arms of yours."

"You don't wanna swing home?" he asks.

"You don't have your shit," you grumble. It'd be convenient, but also reckless.

"My shit? You mean my suit?" he laughs, wrapping a hand around the hinge of your elbow. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that because I deserve it."

Peter makes sure you're decent before he opens the door to the bathroom. You stand behind him, hanging off his arm, hoping his broad shoulders will do you a favour and hide you well.

There's a drunk guy on the other side for the toilet presumably. Peter moves to the side to shield you on instinct when you squeak out a surprised noise. You push your chest against him to cover the slip of skin that struggles to be covered by the jacket, and let Peter guide you down the hall.

You lean in to whisper in his ear, "You owe me, Parker."

You get out onto the street when he says, "I'll show you how sorry I am when we get home."

[lucasnclair]

also also!!!!!! peter x clumsy!reader might be the best pairing. because his spidey senses ugh he’s always catching you before you trip. like an arm around your back and then he dips you down to be dramatic and you get all flustered. and!!! if you’re not in arms reach he definitely shoots a web at you to pull you into his chest before you can do any damage. you both have several heart attacks a day because you’re such a klutz.

I am always on the peter x clumsy reader agenda!! they are so special to me!!! also the thing you said about him catching you and dipping you down omg I could die.

fem!reader 0.7k words

You’re still in the process of patching yourself up when Peter gets home, your knees scraped and a box of big Band-Aids waiting for you on the coffee table. You were hoping to be done by the time he got home, to save him the worry. No such luck. You hear the front door open and you don’t have time to hide your fresh wounds, your evidence of yet another accident.

You’re sure you look quite pathetic when Peter emerges in the doorway.

“Hi, dove! I missed— are you bleeding?” His smile drops and so does his bag. He doesn’t bother taking his jacket off. He strides across the room and gets to his knees in front of you. His hands find your thighs, thumbs just shy of your fresh scrapes.

“Oh, honey,” he coos. He’s not shocked, at least. You think maybe it’s happened so many times it doesn’t phase him anyway more.

His eyebrows pinch together as he scowls at your poor knees, his hands squeezing your thighs. He gives your injuries a once over before lifting his head to look at you sadly. “What happened?”

You frown. “Tripped in the driveway,” you admit moodily. “I’m fine, really. Looks worse than it feels.”

Peter huffs morosely, “I wish I was there when it happened. Could’ve caught you, baby.”

You melt. You’re endeared by his care for you. You smile at him and reach out to push his hair from his forehead, his curls soft under your fingers. You drag your hand down the side of his head, fingers heavy, and let your palm rest over his cheek. Peter’s eyelids flutter under your touch.

“It’s okay, Pete,” you tell him brightly. “You can’t win ‘em all.”

Peter laughs, his smile blinding. “Thanks, babe.” He twists his head so he can kiss your palm, a warm press of his soft, wind-bitten lips. “Let’s get you patched up now, hm?”

Peter patches up your knees, hands gentle as he cleans your wounds and presses Band-Aids over them. He’s a practiced hand, having done this plenty of times, on your legs, elbows, fingers, you name it. Though you must admit, you’re far less prone to accidents with Peter around. He catches you more times than he doesn’t. Today was just bad timing.

When Peter’s done fixing you up he lays a kiss on each of your knees, over your fresh white Band-Aids.

“All fixed,” he says happily, sliding his hand up your thigh to give your hip a squeeze.

You beam and cover his hands with yours. “Thanks, Peter.”

Peter stands and pulls you up with him. Your knees sting, but only a little, and it’s nothing you’re not used to.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks, head ducked so he can meet your eyes, his hair tumbling into the space between your heads. “I can get you some ice, if you like?”

You shake your head. You’d much rather have him stay this close forever. “I’m okay, Pete.”

Peter still looks unconvinced, a frown tugging at his lips. He thinks for a second, then, “Do you want a hug? ‘Cos I know I do.”

You giggle. You’d kill for a hug right now. “Sure.”

You push your arms under his and he circles you in his strong hold, pulling you as close as he can to his chest. He’s careful to avoid your knees bumping his, legs moving so yours are between his. You push your face into his firm chest and breathe him in, his smells, his cologne and the wind on his clothes and that lovely scent he carries around with him everywhere, like old books and coffee shops.

Peter’s face falls into your neck and he sighs, practically melting into you, latching onto you like glue. He’s warm and he’s soft and he’s Peter. The pain in your knees is completely unnoticeable when he’s holding you like this.

“My poor, clumsy girl,” he says eventually, mostly fond, but there’s a whisper of cheek that you don’t miss.

You scowl into his chest. “M’not clumsy,” you whine, though you definitely are and you both know it. “The pavement is uneven.”

Peter pulls back, his big hands on your upper arms. He’s smiling like an idiot. “It is?”

You nod fervently. “Yeah. S’why I tripped.”

Peter nods slowly like you’re telling the truth, like the pavement in the driveway isn’t perfectly even.

“Stupid pavement,” he says.

You giggle and hide your face in his chest again.

-

[magicchai]

andrew peter Parker with the highschool sweethearts trope and prompt “are you wearing my shirt”

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐌!𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓.

pairings ; tasm!peter parker x female!reader 

warnings ; fem!reader implied at end, established relationship, pet names, pure cheesy fluff to be honest.

word count ; 659

additional notes ; 'high school sweethearts' + "are you wearing my shirt?' prompts used <33

peter was in a grumpy mood. it wasn’t usual that he was these days. not when he was practically renowned across the school for the mood change the second you showed up. your poor boyfriend known for being so sappily in-love with you.

but he wasn’t able to see you this weekend. he caught a glimpse at your window after patrol both days, lightly knocking the glass while you slept in bed before giving up, not wanting to wake you.

plus his favourite t-shirt was missing. a simple band-tee that he likes to wear occasionally and thought he had left it out to wear for school, only to realise it’s missing, aunt may assuring him it’s not in the laundry basket.

his head is glued to the floor when he walks to his locker, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose while he holds his skateboard under one arm. no glances in anyone’s directions, just wanting to collect his things for first period and go to the class.

yet, peter’s plans are ruined when two hands slide over the expanse of his back, squeezing his shoulders and a small but immediate happy smile tugs upon peter’s lips knowingly. “hey, baby. missed you so much—” he cuts himself off, after turning around to press his lips to yours does he immediately notice the outfit you adorn.

your smile is so bright, enough to make peter’s knees buckle, and there’s a shine in your eye when you greet your boyfriend. your arms instinctively move around his neck while his encircle your waist to pull you close, skateboard hitting the floor, uncaring of the people walking past the hall.

peter’s smile widens, a small noise escaping him as he gapes, “are you wearing my shirt?” it’s the very shirt that he had been looking for, over a long-sleeved top to almost match his own style. and god, you looked so much better in it.

“… is that okay? i thought you wouldn’t mind.” you look down at your attire, smile falling briefly. to which your boyfriend immediately perks up, squeezing your frame before his instincts stop him from pressing too hard, “no! don’t mind, don’t mind at all, baby, no.”

you can’t help giggling at his nature, rambled and flustered as he leans closer to you. warm, wanting more of you, closer. “in fact, you should keep it. looks so much better on you,” with this he kisses you, prolonged and sweet in a wordless i-missed-you way.

your breath wavers after you both pull away, leaning further into his side as peter turns to grab more of his things out the locker. you stare up at him admiringly, “you didn’t drop by after patrol, pete?”.

he glances back down at you, another quipped smile while his lips catch yours briefly, your teeth breaking from your lower lip while you respond. “you were sleeping, baby. i tried,” peter whispers after pulling away, hand caressing your stolen-shirt covered back affectionately while nudging his locker closed and bending down to pick up his skate.

“you watched me sleep, creep?” you tease, smile never faltering as you talk to peter. “sure did, cute thing. you cuddle your pillow when i’m not beside you, y’know?” you just hum as he guides you away, your shoulder bag bumping his hip but peter refuses to remove himself from your side.

“you should really leave your window unlocked, by the way,” peter continues, glancing at one another while you fiddle with the hem of his navy-blue top, “what if someone climbs in?” you ask. “you live twenty stories up, honey, no one but me can sneak in. and if they did, they have a crime-fighting spider who loves his girlfriend to deal with.”

“you’re so cheesy,” you giggle endearingly at your precious peter while leaning up to kiss his cheek, noting that tonight you won’t lock your window in hopes spider-man drops by and replaces your pillow for cuddles.

⤸

taglist form . the library . all blurbs

andrew!peter parker; masterlist

[spidernerdsblog]

flexible

A/N : another blurb inspired by a prank video. Hope you like this. Let me know what you think.

Summary : you prank your boyfriend by putting him in the positions he puts you in during sex.

Pairing : Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings : mature content

You were hanging out at Peter’s dorm room, sitting on the couch and scrolling through your social media accounts.

“Hey whatcha doing?” Peter asks, walking into the living room. You look up from your phone.

“Nothing, just watching this tiktok on some special yoga poses. Apparently only women can do these very easily.” It was a lie in the video the girlfriend was pranking her boyfriend by putting him in the positions he puts her in during sex.

“That’s rubbish, it just depends on your body’s flexibility.” Peter says.

“You think you’re flexible enough to do these?” a mischievous smirk plays on your lips as you raise an eyebrow baiting him.

“Babe look who you’re talking to. I’m spiderman, I'm flexible AF.” He states placing his hands on his hips with an air of confidence

Oh this is gonna be fun you thought, putting away your phone and standing up from the couch. “Ok let’s see how flexible you are.”

“Yeah, let's do it!” He says excitedly pumping his fist in the air. 

“For the first pose you need to lie down on your back.” You instruct as Peter goes to lie down on the floor. 

“Now bring your legs up” you tell him and he follows by lifting his legs up. “Yeah, just like that. Now spread them wide all the way”

“Like this?” He spreads his legs wide. 

“Yeah and then grab the back of your thighs and pull up.” Holding by the thighs Peter pulls his legs up to his chest and you bite your lip to hide a smile.

“Do you feel it?” You ask.

“Kinda.” He replies.

God he’s so innocent you thought laughing silently to yourself deciding to carry on with the next position.

“For the next pose, turn on your side and bend your knees.” Peter follows your directions and turns on his left side. “Now lift the top leg up.” 

He lifts his right leg up as you hum in approval. “Yeah, as high as you can.” 

“Ooh I can feel this!” He tells and you purse your lips to keep the giggle from slipping out of you.

“Good now stand up.”

“This one is a bit rough, it's called the bunny hop. So you gotta squat down to your feet.” You explain as he squats down.

“Yeah great, now jump up and down.” Peter starts to hop on his feet. “No, no your feet should be on the ground just move your hips” he does as told and you swear to god watching him do that sent you on the verge of losing all control and laughing out like a maniac.

You quickly schooled your features and said. “Ok so for the last one get on the couch on your knees. Grab on the backrest.”

Peter gets on the couch kneeling and holds onto the backrest as you lift his left leg.

“Now lift this leg up and stick your ass out.” Just then Harry decides to stroll into the living room.

“Looking great Parker.” He opens the refrigerator to grab a beer bottle. “You guys taking a trip to the wild side? Should have asked me would’ve been happy to help.” He says while opening the bottle. Understanding finally dawned upon Peter as he jumped out of the couch with a mortified expression and you burst out laughing.

“Oh my god Y/N! You’re such an evil.” He cried out as he thought of all the sex positions you made him do. 

“You don’t have a problem when you put me in those positions.” You tease both of your faces red yours from laughing too hard, his from embarrassment as he stomped back to his room.

“Always wanted to peg that ass.” Harry says, eyes focused at the open door of Peter’s room. 

“Shut up Harry!” Peter yells from his room. Chuckling Harry takes a sip of his beer and saunters off to stand beside you, handing you another bottle.

“Pussy.” He mumbles and turns to you with a sultry look. “The offer still stands, you know. Just like I said before you’re welcome to watch…” he eyes you up and down. “Or join.”

Your lips curl into a smirk as you regard him with narrowed eyes. There have been quite a few times where Harry had openly admitted he’s attracted to both of you suggesting you guys should try doing threesome. “I’ll give it a thought.” You say clinking your bottle to his and take a sip.

[literaila]

the waiter

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: 

"the waiter was flirting with you"  

"what?"

"he couldn't stop staring at you. i thought his eyes were going to fall out of his head." 

warnings: pure fluff, baby. 

"hey," peter whispers to you, a bit urgently. 

you don't look up from your menu, thinking fanciful thoughts of bankrupting peter. "hmm?" 

"we have to go." 

you look up, frowning. 

peter's got an urgent look on his face. his frown matches yours. 

if he didn't look so disturbed you might take the moment to appreciate the shirt he's wearing, sleeves rolled up past his forearm. you might even stare a little bit. 

but peter is frowning. and there is something wrong. 

"what?" you ask him, looking around. "what's going on?" 

"we have to leave." 

peter does not elaborate any further, because why would he? 

"okay..." you drawl, blinking at him. "why?" 

you look out the window to your left for any incoming disasters. if there was a possibility that anyone in this restaurant were to get hurt, you're sure peter wouldn't be just sitting there, waiting to have a conversation about death. 

but there's no monster outside. no robberies. no impending doom that he might need to tend to. 

your brow furrows even deeper. you stare at him, expectant. 

"the waiter was flirting with you," peter mutters, casting a glance toward the man on the other side of the restaurant. 

the man who you thought was perfectly pleasant, thank you very much. 

"what?" 

"he couldn't stop staring at you. i thought his eyes were going to fall out of his head." 

you snort, a bit confused. "peter," you say, a strange sort of smile on your face. "what?" 

"if i have to watch him drool all over you again, i might spontaneously combust."  

you close your menu, staring at him. 

"i'm serious, babe, we have to go." 

"we already ordered bread. and drinks." 

"i'll pay triple however much that cost. the waiter gets no tip," peter furrows his brows, considering. "okay, fine. he gets fifteen percent." 

"how chivalrous." 

"baby," peter whines, like a child. you might find it a little bit cute. "please? i'm having a hard enough time already." 

"what?" you frown. "why?" 

he blinks at you. does a slow up and down your body, raising his eyebrows. 

you think back to hands that had lingered on every inch of skin they could find on the way there. about eyes that could've burned you to the core. 

"oh," you cross your arms, self-conscious. "i thought you were kidding earlier when you said that--" 

peter stares at you blankly. 

"okay. not kidding."

his head drops down to the table, and if not for his muffled voice you might hear him groan. 

"leaf pile," you coo, softly. "i think it'll be alright. i'll even hold your hand when he comes back over." 

peter does not budge at the nickname, but you snicker internally, reaching a hand out to mess up his hair. 

he sits up, fixing it with a frown--as if it's at all salvageable. 

"is this what we've come to?" peter asks you, shaking his head. "you have to bribe me with affection? you only want to hold my hand to turn away the poor waiter--" 

"it's always been like this." 

peter points a finger at you. "not true." 

you scoff. "on our first date you tried to get me to stay up all night so we could watch the sunset--" 

"--that would've been romantic." 

"--and i had to bribe you with a goodnight kiss. just so you would let me go home." 

peter smiles like he's still pleased with himself. "you didn't want to leave. i was trying to help." 

"you just wanted to make out on the subway." 

"that's disgusting," peter says, looking away from you finally. his menu is still open, on the table, waiting to be looked at. "we could go to the diner across from your apartment."

"we went there last week." 

"great service," peter says, nonchalantly. 

"this is supposed to be a fancy date, peter." 

"what's fancier than sharing a milkshake?" 

"crème brûlée." 

peter purses his lips, a hand going to scratch at his lips. there are about ten seconds of silence. 

you use it to stare at him and wonder how he could possibly feel intimidated by anyone else. 

"fine," peter says, "we'll order dessert to go. and then we'll go get pizza." 

you open your mouth. close it. 

"you like pizza," peter reassures you. 

"i also like having a nice dinner with my boyfriend." 

"that can be arranged." 

you sigh. "even if we order dessert to go, we'll still have to talk to david again." 

peter gawks at you. "you know his name?" 

"he literally introduced himself. it was the first thing he said." 

"you remembered his name?" 

you wave a hand. "peter. you don't need to be jealous. maybe he just saw something on my face." 

peter sits back and crosses his arms. he raises an eyebrow at you, to which you smile back innocently. 

he says i know what you're doing without the words. 

"there's nothing on your face," peter says, dryly. "besides pure perfection." 

you giggle. 

peter runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "you're right," he relents, sighing. 

"it's okay, baby, like i said--" 

"it doesn't matter where we go," peter interrupts. "everyone's going to stare at you anyway." 

"...not where i was going with that." 

"i guess i just need to accept reality." 

"i don't think--" 

"i mean," peter finally looks you right in the eye, a hint of a smile playing on his face. "how lucky am i?" 

your face goes blank, for just a moment. 

and then, completely despite yourself, you smile at him, skin tingling at the intensity of his stare. 

of his teasing and gentle laughter as he smiles back. 

and, really, it's not your fault that you have to lean across the table to kiss him. 

he's just so goddamn irresistible. 

after a couple of seconds--and an ahem from the table beside you--you sit back down, opening your menu once again. you smile while you try and decide what to eat. 

and try to come up with the perfect way to get peter back for all of that. you've gotten as far as thanking the waiter profusely when he comes back. 

it's only a minute later when he whispers to you: 

"can i at least order the most complicated thing on the menu just to mess with him?" 

*

my masterlist here.

tags: @moonlarking-blog​​ @v1ci0us​​ @preciousbabypeter​​ @alexxavicry​​ @directioner5life​​ @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah​​ @localrockstargf​​  

[luveline]

Drunk! Peter and he’s all over reader telling her how he wants to marry her and being handsy lol

hi I hope this okay <3

"I like gardenias," Peter declares, drunk as a skunk and climbing all over you. 

You're never letting him go out with his friends again, you decide, brushing the hair out of your sloshed boyfriend's eyes. "Me too," you say. 

"Yeah?" he looks exceedingly pleased by this, more pleased than he has any reason to be. He smells like wine coolers. 

"Sure. They're pretty." 

"And lily of the valley," he adds. "Sweatpeas, jasmine. Oh! Astilbe." 

"You've lost me," you say. 

Peter wrinkles his nose and works his way further still into your lap, hands at your waist. You roll your eyes at his face, tucked against your chest, very obvious in its position. 

"That's fair. We'll ditch the astilbe. Astrantia instead?" 

"Baby, what is an astrantia?" you ask, fingers in his hair.

Each time you stroke his hair back from his face his eyes close, like a puppy. It's adorable. He might be drunk and a little messy right now, but he's still your boy. You'd die for this idiot.

"A flower?" he asks, squinting up at you. "I'm talking about a bouquet." 

"Oh," you say. 

You're distracted from asking why he's discussing bouquets with you at 2AM on the living room sofa when you should both be sleeping by his hands catching yours where it cards through his hair.

He sits up to kiss your fingers, your wrist, small pecks that turn open mouthed that turn nibbling, little wet nips running a course to the sleeve of your T-shirt. He grumbles at being stopped short. You're giggling quietly, endeared and adorned by his affections; you feel like the prettiest girl on earth, covered in his tiny kisses. 

"Red velvet?" he asks suddenly, encouraging you to lie back.

"Are you hungry?" you ask, smiling so wide your cheeks hurt.

"What? No." He sounds frustrated. "Do you like red velvet?" 

"Why are you asking?" 

"For the cake," he says, as if this is obvious. You realise Peter is having a conversation without you and elect to ignore his drunken woes, pulling his face down so you can hug him against your shoulder. 

"Maybe we should go to bed, hot stuff." 

"Are you kidding? We have so many decisions to make." 

"They can definitely wait until the morning, baby," you say warmly. 

He starts running his hands over your chest, your arm, your chest again. He doesn't touch anywhere important without asking, a gentleman even now, but the longing in his eyes makes you wish he would sober up for proper kisses. 

"They can't wait," he insists. "These are so important. We need to talk about them."  

You sigh dramatically, feeling very sorry for yourself, long suffering and tired. "Can we talk about them in bed, Peter?" 

"No, you'll distract me." 

"I'll be too busy sleeping." He pouts. You burst into laughter. "Babe! It's so late, I waited up for you so we could fall asleep together and you waylaid me with hickeys and a game of twenty questions!" You plead your case.

It's Peter's turn to sigh, though his is more of an indignant groan. "This isn't twenty questions, woman!" You raise your eyebrows, dying of laughter on the inside, and he amends, "My beloved. It's not twenty questions." 

"What is it, then?" 

He smirks at you, hands on either side of you and his knee between your thighs. You suddenly remember how tall he is and how stern he can be when he's not obliterated by cheap booze. 

He leans down to whisper in your ear. "I'm gonna marry you." 

"Get off of me," you say, rolling your eyes. 

"I'm gonna marry the fuck out of you, and then I'm gonna fuck the marry out of you, and we're gonna have centerpieces made up of a thousand white gardenias and asta- astrav- astantrias!" 

"And this has to happen tonight?" you ask, playing along, a feeling of white hot and reverential love blossoming from the centre of your chest. 

"If you don't mind!" he almost shouts. 

"I want vanilla cake," you say steadily, quietly, reaching your hands up to pinch his red cheeks.

His eyes are wide but he's calmer now he's realised you're on his side. "Good choice," he says, blinking. "What frosting? Buttercream, right? Fondant is for losers." 

You giggle until you can't breathe. He drops his head down into your chest, hugs your ribs so tight it aches. You can feel his smile even through your sleep shirt. 

[earthgirl616]

— CHERRY RED.

pairing: tasm!peter parker x reader

summary: it's the hottest day of the year, your air conditioning is broken, and all you and your roommate slash best friend slash crush have are a box of cherry flavored popsicles and months of pent up sexual frustration each other

warnings: smut. smut smut smut smut lots of smut and, oh yeah, smut! praise kink, (mild) dom!peter, fingering, (brief) dry humping, ice play? popsicle play? also swearing, no use of a condom because mc is on the pill but use protection y'all. best friends 2 lovers, college roommate au

author’s note: inspired very much so by the sudden increase in weather :) my first time writing smut btw so apologies if it's bad, let me know what u think and happy reading angels! ♡

“Oh, you have got to be shitting me,” you practically yell in the middle of the freezer aisle, wincing when you spot the concerned face of a mother covering the ears of her toddler.

The apologetic look you offer her quickly turns sour when you notice the mother-daughter duo is the reason for your outburst. The reason you’re about to tear off the door to the grocery store freezer and snap it in two like a graham cracker.

They took the last box of lemonade popsicles.

You fight an internal debate, the dehydration from today being the record-breaking hottest day of the year almost swaying your decision not to snatch the box right out of the toddler’s hands, before reluctantly picking up the cherry flavored ones.

Oh well, you think, at least your roommate Peter gets his favorite flavor. It's a little hard to look on the bright side however, when your jeans are sticking to you from perspiration, clinging on like a second skin. Those, and the ill-chosen long sleeve shirt, are the reason you practically run to the self-service checkout counter in a hurry to get home.

You're just about to scan the box of popsicles when your phone dings with a notification.

spiderboy [14:44] bad news

you [14:46] pls don't tell me it has anything to do with our ac

spiderboy [14:46] ...

spiderboy [14:46] ok i won't tell u

you [14:46] parker

spiderboy [14:47] yeah our ac is broken

spiderboy [14:47] can't get a repair guy in til tomorrow

spiderboy [14:47] also we're out of ice

you [14:48] FFS.

you [14:48] i'll get some ice but istg if theres only one bag and that snotty little toddler has it i'm throwing hands

spiderboy [14:48] sorry WHAT.

Grumbling to yourself the whole way, you grab some ice from the thankfully abundant collection in the freezer and get out of there in record time. The ride home is so suffocating that once you get home to your shared apartment you barely spare Peter a glance, tossing him the bag of ice and popsicles.

"Hey," you mutter, having to look away from the sight of him in his black tank top, showcasing his arms. The image of his biceps flexing as he catches the frozen products with his eyes closed - spider-senses obviously - just spurs you to walk even faster to your room.

"Where are you running off to?" he asks, frowning slightly as he gets up to put the stuff in the freezer before they melt in your ac-less apartment. "Come hang out, I'm bored."

Fanning yourself, you laugh at his childish tone. "I need to change out of these clothes. They're like a prison. I only wore them 'cause they made my ass look good this morning."

You see him take a peek at your ass as soon as you say this and you roll your eyes before shutting your bedroom door.

"That they do!" he yells through the door and you slap a hand to your mouth to stop the snorting laughter from being let out, knowing he'll hear the unattractive noise with his heightened senses.

It's times like this, you think as you strip down to only your panties (no way in hell are you wearing a bra in this weather), that you're grateful to be in the know about Peter's biggest secret. Having been his best friend since the early years of middle school, it was only expected he confided in you as soon as he was bitten.

Now you're both in college, he's still Spider-Man and you're still the ordinary human best friend that's hopelessly in love with him.

Yeah, that one may have been a recent revelation, but what can you do! You've always had a little crush on him, but having lived with him for the first two years of college, not only are you even more aware of how insanely attractive he's gotten, but due to his increase in one-night stands since school, you're also aware of your... feelings. Particularly jealousy.

The flirty nature of your friendship definitely does not help matters.

You ponder the fact you've both had dates and flings and the like since high school, strongly alluding to the idea you and Peter will never be a thing, with a sour face as you throw on the least amount of clothing you possibly can - fuck double standards! If men can parade around shirtless in the streets, then you can wear the same tank top and shorts you've had since high school damn it!

Emerging from your room feeling only slightly less like a melted stick of butter, you immediately catch Peter's eye and he chokes on the chilled water he was previously chugging down.

You furrow your brows as he gives you a once over so slowly that you almost regret the outfit choice. And then you remember it's the 21st century.

"Don't give me that look!" you scoff, pointing an accusing finger at him. "If you can wear a tank top without a bra then so can I!"

He swallows and clears his throat, asking you hoarsely, "You're not wearing a bra?"

You raise a brow and fold your arms.

"Is that an issue?"

He splutters and his gaze dips down to your chest for a split second. "No!" he yelps, looking away to stare determinedly at the TV screen. "And stop making me sound like a misogynist, you know I'm all for freeing the nips and all that."

You laugh at the very true statement as you walk over to the freezer, bending over to forage around for the cherry popsicles. Your mouth twitches as you hold back a smile when he goes silent.

"I can feel your eyes on my ass, Peter."

"Wh- I was not looking at your ass!" he insists, and when you turn around to throw him an accusing look - and one of his favorite cherry popsicles - you see that he's scowling. "I wasn't. I was just noticing your shorts."

"And my ass, but whatever," you sing-song under your breath. "What about my shorts?"

Collapsing on the couch right next to Peter, you prop your feet onto the coffee table, facing your roommate to prompt his answer. "Nothing, I just... Aren't they the same ones you would wear 4 years ago in gym class?"

"Precisely, my web-headed friend." Grinning at Peter's growing scowl at the nickname, you unwrap your popsicle, tasting the lip-numbing treat while he does the same. "God, I've been sleeping on these. They may just be as good as the lemonade."

"I think you mean better," says Peter, pointing the bright red stick of ice at you. Sticking your tongue out in response, you snatch his water bottle and it's your turn to scowl when he chuckles. "Your tongue is bright red."

"It's the latest look."

You lean back, pressing the water bottle to your neck and moaning at the cold, frosty relief. The plastic soon becomes warm from the heat of your skin, so you eventually just unscrew the lid and pour tiny amounts of water directly onto your skin.

"Oh my God, that feels so good." Peter shifts in his seat and you glance at him to see his jaw gone slack as he stares the water bottle like it's offending him. You feel heat crawling up your neck and it definitely is not due to the heatwave. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"I literally feel like I'm watching a porno and I don't know if I would rather be the water bottle or you."

His words make your stomach jolt, but you hide it with a scoff, chucking the water bottle at him. Peter may have been bitten by that radioactive spider years ago, but his ability to catch things without even looking still bugs you to this day - pun intended. "Since the other way around is physically impossible, unless your powers allow you to transform into inanimate objects, you can be me."

Shrugging, Peter finishes off his own popsicle and you shudder at the way he bites the ice so quickly. Your own popsicle is still completely intact.

Speaking of your own popsicle, you decide to bring your focus back to that and pointedly ignore his own moans of ecstasy at the chilled water dripping down his neck.

If the heatwave doesn't kill you, this definitely will.

Since the sensitivity of your teeth won't allow you to bite, the artificial red of the popsicle that's bright enough to rival the red of Peter's Spider-Man suit starts dripping down your hand. Too preoccupied with licking the melted juice before it ruins your couch, you barely register the pause in Peter's own ministrations with the water, instead his eyes focusing on the way your tongue pokes out to catch the sticky liquid.

You lick a long stripe up the popsicle and hear a faint groan coming from your best friend. Ceasing your own movements, you try not to blush.

One thing you've noticed in the last few months is that Peter hasn't had a single girl over. Not that you're complaining, but it's surprising since he once confided in you that not only were his senses heightened, but... other things too. Thus, you can't blame him for probably being turned on by you right now.

He never had the same girl over twice, though. You selfishly did not mind this at all. Not that it would make a difference, you think, shaking your head to rid yourself of any ideas and focusing on your slightly disappointing popsicle.

Sighing, you glare at the stick. "This was good for like two minutes, but I'm still hot."

Running his eyes over your body like he did when you first stepped out of your room, Peter cocks his head. "You wanna try something?"

"What?" you ask, narrowing your eyes in suspicion.

He rolls his eyes at your dramatics, plucking your popsicle out of your hand. "Trust me?"

"Well, you are my friendly neighborhood Spider-Man," you point out, pretending think about it.

"Exactly, now shut up and close your eyes."

Doing as he says, you wait in anticipation.

After a good five seconds, you're about to open your eyes and ask Peter what's taking so long when you suddenly feel the icy cold wetness of what you assume is your cherry popsicle, running across the top of your chest.

Gasping at the cool sensation, you don't even have time to properly react before Peter licks the liquid off your chest.

You can't hold back the shudder that contradicts the normal bodily reaction you should be having in the middle of a heatwave, partly due to the fact your best friend just licked you, and partly due to the fact his tongue is surprisingly cold - presumably from the popsicle.

"Oh," you gasp, eyes flying open when the popsicle travels to your neck. Despite knowing what's coming next, you sharply suck in a breath of air, your hand automatically threading into Peter's hair as he laps up the red juice, taking longer this time to bite and suck at a particular spot on your neck. He chuckles when you whimper for a second time, his warm breath scorching your skin. "I-I don't think this skin-to-skin contact is particularly effective. Especially when you run like a radiator even in winter."

"Want me to stop?" Peter mutters, his hand coming up to play with the waistband of your shorts and your brain starts fogging up. That doesn't stop you answering him though.

"Don't you dare," you practically growl and you can feel Peter's smirk against your neck. He pulls away and ignores your noises of protest, but instead of moving away completely, he runs the popsicle across your jaw and up to the side of your mouth.

Painfully slow, Peter licks the trail of liquid from the bottom of your jaw and stops right next to your lips, so close that you can feel his eyelashes tickling your cheekbone. "Peter, please," you moan, breathily, your hand sliding down his neck to grip at his bicep.

"Fuck," he groans under his breath and sits back in his seat, but not without pulling you up and over onto his lap, flush against his chest as he throws the popsicle onto the coffee table. Your lack of bra makes you even more sensitive and it doesn't help that you can feel how hard he is through your shorts.

Your whimper is immediately swallowed by his lips as he seals your mouth with his own, kissing you with enough intensity to literally set you on fire - as if the heatwave wasn't enough.

Peter tugs you closer as he kisses you until you're seated right on top of his clothed erection and then the worst happens. He grips at your hips and pushes his own upwards, making you gasp and he takes this as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

Continuing his assault on your lower lip as he nibbles and sucks until you're certain it's swollen, you grow more and more frustrated when he's stopped moving. You pull away for breath, feeling lightheaded.

"Why did you stop?" you whisper, still gripping the tops of his shoulders.

Grinning like a kid in a candy store, Peter slides his hands up your legs and annoyingly stops at the top of your inner thighs. "I want you to beg again."

You scoff. "Like hell am I going to beg ag- Holy shit," you whimper, falling forward when he rolls his hips again, just once before stopping. "Okay, please, Peter, please."

"Good girl," he mutters, looking up at you lazily through his eyelashes, but with an intense stare that looks like he wants to eat you. You moan at the nickname and his eyes light up at unlocking this new information before attaching his hands back to your hips and pressing your core against him yet again, until your legs feel like jelly.

"Uh-uh," Peter clicks his tongue, lifting you off of him before you can finish and laying you down on the couch. His hand slides under your tank top and up until it rests just below your breast. "You're not getting off that easily after parading around in those tiny, tiny clothes."

"Oh my God," you groan, arching up into his hand, embarrassingly turned on by him despite no proper physical contact. He leans over you and continues nibbling and sucking on your bottom lip, his tongue swiping over the swollen area every few seconds. "Peter, please."

"Please, what?" he teasingly asks, swiping his thumb across the underside of your breast, but keeping his hand there. "Use your words, princess."

Feeling like you're about to explode, or beat the shit out of your roommate, you tug on his hair in frustration making him groan and chuckle at the same time. The fucker knows exactly what he's doing to you. "Please... touch me already."

"Yes, ma'am." Peter presses his lips to yours again and moves his hand upwards, grabbing a fistful of your breast. You try to stifle your moan but it's impossible when he pinches your hardening nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. "Shirt, off. Now."

He tugs impatiently at the material and it's your turn to laugh at the scowl on his face. You pull the tank top up and over your head in one swoop and Peter doesn't hold back his groan, a tortured expression on his face. "Fuck, you're beautiful."

"Stop," you laugh nervously, shy all of a sudden as you try and hide your warming face.

"No, I mean it," he deadpans. The expression on his face is as serious as can be and he places his hands on either side of your face to make you look at him. "Forget giant lizards, you're the thing that's finally going to kill me."

"As much as I enjoy being compared to giant lizards, please pick up where we left off."

Peter doesn't need to be told twice. However, before he touches you he grabs the almost completely melted popsicle from the coffee table and grins mischievously as he takes a bite of the iced stick of juice. Throwing it back onto the table, Peter leans forward with the red block of ice between his teeth and runs it around your nipple.

"Shit," you gasp as the ice melts almost instantly, leaving only his tongue swirling around the hardened bud instead. At the same time, his hand moves down and fiddles with the waistband of your shorts. "Off, please, take them off."

Taking your direct commands as a sure sign, Peter tugs your shorts down, taking your panties with them. He swallows roughly and looks up at you, pupils blown wide. "You're so fucking pretty. I mean it when I say your pussy is going to be the death of me."

Growing more and more frustrated by Peters fingers wandering around your inner thighs, but not actually touching where you want him to, you frown at him. "You're a whole lot of talk, Parker. When are you actually going to- Oh, fuck."

"What was that?" Peter asks, his lips brushing against your ear as he finally runs a finger up and down your slit, your arousal making it easy. Your breathing gets quicker and when he slips a finger past your folds and you find your hips moving upwards trying to make his movements go faster. "No words, princess?"

Peter inserts a second finger, allowing you to adjust before adding a third and starting to pick up the pace as your moans and whimpers continue to escape you. His fingers get faster and faster, the palm of his hand in exactly the right spot against your clit which makes your eyes prick with tears as you continue to arch into him. "Such a good girl... You gonna cum for me, baby?"

His words spur your climax to approach even quicker and Peter can feel it coming when you start to tighten around his fingers so he speeds up his movements. The feeling that tugs at you in your lower stomach quickly escalates until it snaps, pushing you over the edge and you let out a cry of ecstasy.

It takes you a minute to calm down and you would believe Peter if he told you that you blacked out for a second. "That was- You were- Fuck. I need you now."

Peter curses lowly at your words as you tug off his tank top, revealing his built torso that you've helped him stich up and disinfect a countless number of times. You fumble at his grey sweatpants, trying to pull them down along with his boxers, but his hand stops you right at the waistband. "Wait, wait. Are you sure you wanna do this?"

If it weren't for the fact that you could see how painfully hard he was through his sweatpants, you would think he didn't want you. Trying not to smile at how sweet your best friend is, you quirk a brow. "I'm definitely sure. Are... are you sure?"

"Are you kidding?" he deadpans. "I've literally wanted to fuck you since puberty hit. And I've wanted to kiss you everyday of our lives since we were 11. Like, romantically."

"You- What?" you choke out the the words, shocked at the sudden confession and unable to hold back the smile this time. "Are you serious?"

"We could continue to discuss my embarrassingly obvious crush on you. Or, you could let me show you by finally letting me fuck your brains out before I literally explode."

"I vote option two, please."

"Smart girl," Peter grins, pressing one more searing kiss to your lips and nipping at your bottom lip before tugging off his sweatpants.

And shit, if he isn't the biggest you've ever had.

"You're going to break me," you moan, one hand gripping Peter's bicep and the other flat against his chest. If it wasn't for his super fast healing, you definitely would be leaving scratches. He smirks as he presses the tip of his cock at your entrance, coating himself in your arousal to ready you.

"That's the plan," he says, determined. And before you can say anything else he enters you, slowly filling you up. The short, breathless gasps that leave you combined with how tight you are causes Peter to groan and grip the side of the couch. You barely register the seat cushion ripping from his super strength, instead focusing on the way he starts moving inside you. "Jesus- fuck, you feel amazing."

His constant praise and his now powerful thrusts make literal tears form in your eyes, your arousal coming back even faster than before. You clamp a hand over your mouth to stop your screams, but Peter doesn't allow this and he removes it, leaning over to bury his face in your neck. "I wanna hear every sound coming out of that pretty little mouth of yours as I'm fucking you."

He emphasizes this statement with a particularly powerful thrust, bringing his hand up to circle your clit with his thumb and you can't help letting out a scream, the tears escaping your eyes as you start to babble nonsensical words. "Don't stop, please, please, please."

"Never," he assures you, panting as he continues thrusting into you faster, deeper and harder, your climax building at the same time as Peter's. "Shit, baby, you're gonna make me cum."

"Me too," you whimper, gripping his back to pull him impossibly closer to you as you let go, having to bite his shoulder to stifle your scream. "Peter, oh my God."

"Let go for me, princess," he murmurs, lips moving against your neck as you finish, his own thrusts starting to slow down and he shudders against you, the only sounds being both of you breathing heavily.

You stay like that for a moment, until Peter's body heat smothers you and you're wishing it was the middle of winter so you wouldn't feel relief when he gets up to shrug his sweatpants on. You watch him do so, unable to move and the sight of you makes him grin like an idiot. You roll your eyes, knowing exactly what he's thinking; he just gave you the best sex of your life, the little shit.

He leaves your clothes and his own vest discarded on the couch, lifting you up in his arms bridal style with ease and carrying you into his room. Once he sets you on the bed, he collapses down next to you.

"So, you've had an embarrassing crush on me since we were 11, let's talk about that," you say, using every ounce of strength within you not to burst out laughing.

Peter scowls, but his expression doesn't match the way his thumb is rubbing circles in the side of your hip where his hand rests. "I was thinking we could talk about the praise kink you so obviously displayed."

"Shut up," you scoff, but there's no malice in your tone because he's completely right. "If it makes you feel better, I've loved you for the same amount of time."

"I bet I loved you first," he protests softly, kissing your shoulder.

Great, now you're back to feeling like a melted stick of butter.

"Hm, I'll take that bet. What does the winner get?"

"The winner gets to take his girlfriend swinging across the city," he smirks, knowing he's got you there when you gasp in excitement. Peter is way too protective over you when it comes to his Spider-Man life and swinging across the city is a very rare occurrence.

"I lose, you loved me first, now take me swinging!"

"Yeah, let's wait til you can walk again first."

© earthgirl616 2022.

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

PAPARAZZI- P.B PARKER

Pairing: Dark! Perv! Peter x Innocent! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 9.3k

Summary: as the outgoing, spontaneous cheerleader of the school, you arent too familiar with quieter people, such as peter parker. he sure is familiar with you though. soon, the photos and obsessions give him the courage to talk to you, which leads into his darker desires coming true.

WARNING. THIS CONTAINS DARKER CONTENT, SUCH AS STALKING AND MANIUPLATION. READ WITH CAUTION. 

Warnings: SMUT, stalking, public masturbation, stealing of panties, masturbation with panties, booze and drugs mentioned, swearing, maniplation/ slight gaslighting, pet names, heavy praise kink, size kink, daddy kink, overstimulation, corruption/ innocent kink, teasing/ playing with reader through panties, panties used as gag, mocking, taking pictures of reader while asleep, mentions of diff sex postitions, spanking, plugs and collars, mirror sex etc

“i'm your biggest fan, i'll follow you until you love me- papa-paparazzi baby, there's no other superstar, you know that i'll be... your papa-paparazzi” - paparazzi, lady gaga

One of the first words you had ever said to Peter Parker had been a lie. 

A white one, something small and one that you had believed. 

But not him.

 He knew it was a lie that had slipped from your lips, clear as day as he snapped the photo with his Nikon. I’m not very photogenic. 

Those were the words of warning you gave him as he asked for a photo of you for the yearbook, a shy smile blooming across your face as he insisted. 

No one is ever un-photogenic. It's the photographer that can make it that way. he had reassured, flexing his bicep as he ran his fingers nervously through his hair.

 Those weren't the words he wanted to say, but they’d have to do. What he really wanted to say, the truthful answer was probably not something your innocent, soft persona was ready to hear yet. 

You are the most captivating person I’ve ever seen, and I look at your beautiful body any chance I can get without seeming like a full-on weirdo, imagining what you look like under those clothes. So yes, you are photogenic. Very, very photogenic. 

That would have to wait until a much later date, when you knew him better. When you would understand how photogenic you were, because he’d make you understand.

 “Peter?” you asked shyly, drawing his attention back to the present moment, breaking him from his trance about how your legs would look slung across his shoulders as he pounded into you. 

You knew his name. God, wait until you were moaning it. 

“Yea, yea sorry, just got distracted.” he smiled, making you giggle as he brought the camera up to face, eyes staring you down through the viewfinder as he snapped the picture of you smiling by the football field. 

A cheerleader in her natural element. 

“Thanks Y/N.” he nodded, turning to walk off, to stalk you from the bleachers- as he always did. But you stopped him, your gentle voice captivating him as you asked the most mindboggling question he had ever heard. 

“You, you know my name?” you asked shyly, and he fought the urge to keep his jaw from dropping to the floor, to have his eyes boggle out of his head like a cartoon character. 

Of course, he knew your name. Every person in Queens knew your name, the shining star.

 “Course.” he shrugged, watching as you fidgeted with the hem of your short little cheer skirt, the one he imagined flipping up so many times as he’d pound into you from behind in the changeroom, holding your head up by your hair so you could see how beautiful you looked drunk on his cock in the mirror. 

“Oh! Hey, you're in my chemistry arent you? Mr. Johnson's class?” 

He died. He had died, and gone to heaven. 

“Y-yeah. I sit-”

 “At the back of the class. Back right corner.” you smiled, head whipping back as you heard your friends from the squad call your name, waving you over to the center field. You laughed at his reaction, the pure look of amazement in his eyes as he stared at you, his face in shock. 

“I’ll see you around, ‘k Parker? Let me know if you need more pictures.” you waved, your hair flipping behind your shoulder as you trotted off to their beck and calls. 

He somehow urged his legs to move, although he wanted nothing more than to remain frozen to the spot, the sweet smell of your perfume and shampoo lingering in the air from your close proximity making him hazy and irrational. 

Let me know if you need more photos. 

He bit his lip, knawing on it with his teeth as he made his way back over behind the bleachers, a spot he often occupied. It was perfect for a photographer, a spot where he could see everything and anyone, but no one could see him. 

You were a sweetheart to offer that up to him, but there was one thing you didn't fully know. 

He already took advantage of that offer, much before you said anything about it. 

Peter had photos of you everywhere. 

And by everywhere, he meant everywhere. 

Photos of you pinned up on the walls in his room. Photos of you he taped in his physics notebook, his math binders, even a photo of you in his wallet. 

They were all candids of course, as he’d often spend his time taking pictures of you when you were clueless. Those were always the best ones though, where you'd look so innocent and carefree in those little skirts and knee-high socks, a soft smile always on your face. 

You were a sweet, innocent little ray of sunshine. One he wanted to corrupt.

 And he knew, deep down it was wrong, oh so very wrong. But how could he not think of you that way? It was impossible to keep those thoughts at bay, thoughts of all the ways he would ruin you, making you beg on your knees for him.

 For any part of him, for him to do anything to you. You would be so easy that way, so moldable in his hands. 

Obedient. 

The sound of your gentle laughter sent his gaze towards your body once more, a lion stalking a lamb as he took in your legs hungrily, currently spread into the splits as you stretched. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, the way he would ruin you. You’d look so pretty with his cum dripping put your quivering cunt, his fingers smearing it across your thighs. He’d cum on your stomach and feed it to you, or he’d finish across your face- and you’d take it like a good girl. 

He groaned softly, palming himself through his jeans, the fabric suddenly tight and uncomfortable as he watched you. 

Pictures weren't enough today. Pictures weren't nearly enough, with the way your skin gleaned in the afternoon sun, your pink little cotton panties peaking at him as you bent down to finish your stretching, still talking to one of your friends about helping out at the animal shelter later this week. 

God, you were so perfect. So sweet, and gentle.. and well, his. 

At least in Peter's mind. 

Before he could fully comprehend what he was doing, need took over as he quickly unzipped his jeans, pulling out his hardened cock, throbbing and gleaming with precum. He moaned as he pumped himself tp the sight of you, imagining all the places he would take you- whether you liked it or not. 

In his bed. Over the counters. On his desk. In the chemistry labs. Hell, even here, under the bleachers where he stood, currently jerking himself off like you were a live playboy magazine. 

Head thrown back in pleasure, he bit his lip down hard enough to taste the coppery, sweet tang of blood. It was only when he heard the whistle and the sound of the coach's voice he realized exactly what he was doing.

 This was wrong. This was very wrong. Fuck Parker, you’re acting like a fucking virgin. Can't even keep it in your pants until you get home? 

Not with you, he couldn't. But he really had no option, knowing so many people would be with you. Didn’t mean he couldn't snap a few more pictures though. 

One or two wouldn't hurt, right? 

After zipping his jeans back up, he quickly grabbed his camera, positioning it so he could see you perfectly. Your hair shimmered in the sun, a little halo placed around your frame as you looked to your friend. 

He didn’t know if he wanted to braid it for you after a long, hot shower, or if he wanted to tug on it so hard you cried. After a few pictures, many including your thighs in that short little skirt he adored, he hurried out from his hiding spot, back onto the gravel path. 

He was in a rush not because he was worried he’d run into you again. 

Oh, that’d be the dream. 

He was rushing because there was an entire corkboard that waited for him in his room, filled to the brim with pictures of you. And it was either he came in his pants to the sound of your voice, or too many, many photos of you. 

Peter would take the safe option. 

For now- at least.

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“Peter?” 

Your mellow voice rang out, clear as windchimes on a breezy summer's day- snapping him up from his thoughts. Of you, again. 

He looked up from his notes, ones that he hadn't really been reading, but ones he had been mindlessly glancing at so Mr. Johnson wouldn't demand to know why he’d be staring off into space.

 He couldn't really say “Sorry Mr. Johnson, I was just daydreaming about using a vibrator on Y/N until she started crying, begging and drooling because I made her into an incoherent mess!” 

That would not slide with him. The bell was about to ring, and he wasn't expecting you to show up as a pre-class gift. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn't happy about it. 

Very, very happy. 

“Y/N hey! What's up?”

 He wanted to smack himself in the face. What's up?! You really just said what's up?! 

“Nothing much... Um- I was just wondering something.” 

Your fingers were wrapped around your arm, rubbing it up and down as you fidgeted in lace with your feet. You were nervous. 

“What were you wondering?” he murmured, and he’d be damned if he said he didnt find your shyness towards him adorable. Everything you did was adorable. 

“You can totally say no if you want, I don't want you to feel like you have to or anything-” 

“Hey. Breathe. Just tell me.” he smiled softly, urging you to take a deep breath, and start from the beginning. The heat rising to your cheeks was making you fidget even more, feeling as if he could sense it from miles away. 

But you had to spit it out. If you didnt, you’d never hear the end of it from your nagging thoughts that liked to plague you wherever you went. 

“I overheard Mr. Johnson telling Mrs. Marly that we’re doing a lab later this week. He’ll probably go over it today, I just wanted to ask.. would you be my partner? You’re really, really smart. And I wanted to get to know you better.” you gushed, words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. 

Peter wanted to pinch himself. He wanted to slap himself silly, because there is no way in hell you just asked him that. 

Was he dreaming? He was definitely dreaming. 

“Peter?” His shock kept him from saying exactly what he wanted to say right away. “Like I said, you don't have too, I can ask someon-”

 “Yes. Of course I’ll be your partner.” he nodded, cheeks turning pink as the skirt you had on today, the soft, pastel pink just aching for his fingers to run across the seams, to flip it up to expose yourself to him. 

You rubbed your lips together, lipgloss shimmering as the morning sun shown through the windows, the bell ringing profusely like an alarm for the sun to break from the clouds.

 It was strawberry lipgloss. He watched you put it on at your locker this morning, and he wanted nothing more than to taste it. 

“Oh, thank you so much! If you brainstorm anything in class today, slip it in my gym locker. I have cheer practice after school, but all the girls are normally out of the change room by 2:45. If no one sees you go in there, you should be fine.” you giggled, watching as students began to sit down in their seats, Mr. Johnson finalizing his notes for the class as he started to write out the date at the top of the whiteboard. 

“May I?” you asked, pointing at his pen that was scattered with his papers across his desk. Peter nodded, and you picked up the pen, leaning over towards him as you scribbled your locker number and combination across the blank sheet of paper he had pulled out before you had showed up. 

He tried so hard not to look, he really did. But when you were leaned over, your shirt exposing the tops of your breasts so close to him- it was impossible not to peek. They looked so pretty and perky, your little gold necklace swinging in front of him, tempting him.

 He wanted nothing more than to mark them up, to suck on your nipples until you were so flustered you couldn't do anything but moan his name, and tug at his hair. 

The honeyed smell of your perfume was gripping him by the throat, clouding his senses and making his head go fuzzy. 

He wanted you so bad it hurt. 

“ See ya round.” you whispered, setting his pen down as you gave him a little wink, scurrying back to your seat on the other side of the room. 

Oh, he’d be seeing you alright. He’d be seeing you a whole lot. 

Mr. Johnson's voice was tuned out as his brain turned the sound off like a radio dial, as he was only focused on you. Peter looked down at the little heart you had left next to your elegant scribbles of writing, the numbers slightly tilted on an angle, loopy numbers filling the left hand corner of his page. 

He had never seen anyone write like that, and he adored it. What he adored even more though, was that you had left an extra set of numbers for him.

 Your phone number. 

He couldn't help but glance over at you, head down in your notes as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, listening to the teacher as if he were a preacher in a cult. 

You were so pretty when you were focused.

 Peter knew he probably shouldn't be on his phone, especially because he knew Mr. Johnson was about to start talking about the labs you had overheard earlier that day, but he didn't care. He already spent all his classes daydreaming about you, especially this class- so what would it hurt? 

His thumbs flew across the keyboard under the desk, hitting send before he could re-think his decision. 

Unknown Number: So… you come here often? 

You looked down at your phone, fidgeting with the pink, sparkly case with a smile. It was Peter. Your heart pounded in your chest at the text, the sheer dorkiness of it making you want to giggle. 

He was charming, a little shy and quiet. But that's what made you gravitate towards him, his mellow aura inviting, yet mysterious. 

You liked it. You liked it a whole lot. 

You: Sadly… yes. You? 

Peter: I tend to show up when the girl I want to show up does. I have nothing to look at when she's not. 

You smiled, cheeks heating (as they typically did) when he was involved. You had a school girl crush on him, and he’d be blind as a bat if he didnt see it from miles away. Kilometers. Especially with those glasses he always wore, which he always adjusted on his pretty nose. 

You: What's this mystery girls name?

Peter:.... 

Peter: Bunny. And Bunny is now going to be good and pay attention to the lecture, cause she has a thesis she needs to think about. 

Bunny. 

You tugged on your lower, glossy lip with your teeth, the slight pain a delicious distraction from what was happening between your leg as you clenched them together tightly. 

The sound of your foot lightly tapping the tile was nearly as fast as the professor's words as he spewed them out at lightning speed, causing your notes to be frantic and rushed.

 The last thing you wanted was to not have any material to give back to Peter during this project. You had your fair share of partners who did nothing in group assignments, and it made your blood boil. 

The fact Peter was nice enough to even let you work with him was beyond kind already- the last thing you wanted to be was unprepared. Before you knew it, the bell had rang, its shrill noise breaking the silence and tension so thick in the air you could cut it with a knife. 

It made you jump, heartbeat racing as you quickly packed up your things, his rambling no longer making sense in your mind as he yelled out the homework for this weekend to the kids already scurrying down the hall.

 “Have fun at cheer tonight bunny.” the soft voice called, words tickling the shell of your ear as Peter's hand touched your lower back, his skin brushing yours as he scooted by you to head towards the door. 

“Thanks.” was all you could squeak out, watching as he sent a little smile and wave your way, long stride carrying him down the halls as he propped his earbuds in to tune out the rest of the world. 

Something you think you wanted to do with him sometime.

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Peter felt like a pervert. An absolute, full-on pervert. 

There is a system set in place for perverted things, one that he had created in his head. Level one was taking pictures of you, level two being jerking off to those said pictures. Level three was jerking off to you, in person- without your awareness. 

But this, this broke the scale. At least in his books. 

This was something typical movie perverts would do, something the audience would watch, perhaps maybe cover their children's eyes while they gawked. He stood at the entrance to the girls change room, the only sound preoccupying the space the humming of the janitor out of view down the hall, and the buzz of the fluorescences. 

No one lingered among the lockers, he had made sure of that. It was 2:50pm, and he was still chicken shit. 

Peter Parker was scared. 

Not scared of you walking in, or anyone else really for that matter. You had granted him permission after all, and it's not like anyone was stripping down currently. 

He was scared of himself. Of his own urges. 

Finally, he’d be in your personal space. Your personal, personal space. He knew it was wrong to rummage through your stuff, but the thought of your undergarments being so close to him, and quite literally his for the taking made him horny. 

Hornier than he had been all damn day, which was saying a lot. 

Horny enough to have yet again, irrational decisions cloud his judgement, making him storm into the locker room like a man on a mission. Skimming over the numbers, he finally found yours, lighting up like he had won the jackpot. 

Memorizing the combination you had written down for him, he unlocked your locker, the metal creaking slightly as he pried it open.

 It was so… you. So, so very you. 

Innocent and soft, little pictures of you and your friends put up with pink washi tape, your cheer schedule scribbled with dates and hearts. He smiled at the Hello Kitty stickers you placed near the back as he slid the papers in your bag, making a mental note to bring that up in a conversation later. 

It was when the papers were fully tucked away did he realize what he was touching. 

Lace. 

His mouth went dry, palms beginning to sweat as his fingers wrapped around the flimsy fabric, tugging it out into view. 

Bingo. 

The scrap of the pink lace thong was enough to have him keening, and he brought his nose to it, inhaling deeply. It smelt sweet, the wet patch you had left still staining the undergarment. 

The fact you had worn this all day, when you had talked to him in class, when you had rubbed your thighs together eagerly… 

“Fuck.” he murmured gently, bringing the pink fabric down to the very prominent bulge in his jeans, rubbing it against his oner with a sigh. His party was soon crashed though, the sound of voices growing louder as they entered the changeroom. 

Shutting the locker as quickly (and as quietly) as he possibly could, he darted out of sight behind another row, praying to every god in the universe no one would come this way. 

“Yea, Y/N told me she was going to Daryl's party tomorrow night. She’s supposed to help me pick out what to wear.” a light, cheery voice called from in front of him, the sound of the locker opening make his heart drop as another set of footsteps followed behind the mystery person. 

Daryl? As in Daryl Whites? This was a very, very bad idea for you. 

Peter had noticed the way Daryl had been eyeing you up lately, like you were a piece of fresh meat at the butcher's. He’d be dammed if he let you anywhere near that scumbag. 

“What do think she’ll wear though?” another voice replied, the sound of a water bottle being squeezed filling the air as the locker clanged shut again. 

“Hopefully something slutty. I can't be the only whore at this party! I swear sometimes-” The voices muddled out as they exited the changeroom, the door swinging shut behind them as the coach's whistle blew. 

Peter let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the soft whoosh of air a sigh of relief. Slipping the panties in his back pocket, he made his way out of the changeroom, to go mentally prepare himself. 

It now appeared he had a party to go to tomorrow night.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh goddd-” he gritted out between clenched teeth, the lacey thong rubbing across his hardened cock making it harder and harder to keep a grip of sanity in the present moment. 

Jerking himself off with your underwear was his new favorite thing, the dozens of photos of you looking over at him a sweet touch. He couldn't stop thinking of you, when he was making dinner, when he was in the shower, when he was doing laundry. 

It was always, always you.

 It was only in these sweet moments, in the haven of his bedroom could act on these sinful thoughts, when everyone was asleep. 

Because he was loud. But how was he supposed to stay quiet, when all he could think about was fucking you senseless? 

You’d be so good for him. So eager to please. He had never heard you say no to anything or anyone a day in your life. Maybe it was wrong of him, but he wanted to use that to his advantage. 

You were such a quiet, innocent thing and Peter wanted to corrupt you. He wanted to ruin you. Until all you could think about was his cock, his touch, his taste. The taste of his lips, the taste of his cum down your throat mixed with your tears and salvia as he used you like the pretty little fleshlight you were. 

He’d have to train you first of course, using his fingers so slowly coax you open- get you used to him. Peter wasn't that cruel. But he couldn't wait to be cruel when you’d tease him, and he’d have to teach you a lesson. When he’d happily listen to the sound of your bell jingle from the collar he’d put on you as he’d drap you acros his knee, your body jolting with each spank.  

Your cries would sound so pretty as he’d play with the tail in your ass between the spakings. 

The thought of you sprawled out across his lap and crying sent him over the edge, head lolling back as he finished with a moan. His cum coated your panties, already stained from the previous night. 

He knew the logical thing was to wash it and slip it back into your locker when you weren't present, but at the same time- he didn't want to. 

Yes, he’d give them back, but he wanted you to wear them with the gentle reminder of him. Slipping those panties up over those beautiful legs of yours, just to have his dried cum used as a pillow for your cunt drove him insane. 

So did the thought of seeing you tomorrow night, in a little party outfit. He felt like those girls in the changeroom wondering what you'd be wearing to the get-together, except he was thinking about it for a totally different reason. 

How easy it’d be to get you out of it. 

With a sigh, he stared out the window from his room to the city sprawled outside, at the twinkling lights and people milling on the avenue. This city never slept, and neither did he. 

Daryl's house was only a few blocks down from his apartment, his family lucky enough to snag a townhouse in the bustling streets of Queens. 

Peter hated parties, he was much more content to stay in his room and work on new inventions, or to smoke a blunt and read a book on the fire escape that so happened to conveniently be outside his window. 

But if you were going, he needed to be there. To make sure you would be okay, or at least that's what he kept telling himself. 

Not because he was borderline obsessed with you and needed to be in your presence nearly all the time because you were a drug he was addicted to, a feeling he could never shake from his bones. When you were too drunk to function, or high out of your mind he’d take you home. 

Home- to his apartment, because you’d be in no condition to go back to your place, your father would throw a fit once he found out what his perfect little angel had really done. 

He’d take care of you, keeping you warm and safe as you’d fight a stupid hangover.

 Everything would go according to plan. He was sure of it.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything did not go according to plan.

 You would go to the party with Macey and Jessica, have an amazing time, drink to the point you were a little drunk, and go home. 

That was the plan. 

You would play games like beer pong with Daryl, despite not really liking him, but you'd have to be a good guest. But instead, you were very, very sober. In someones bedroom, on the verge of crying. 

You didn’t really want to come here. 

You knew you would regret it the second you stepped foot in the door, but you came anyways for your friends sake. 

It will be so much fun! they had insisted as they fixed up your mascara in the vanity mirror an hour prior. Yeah. So much fun my ASS. 

You didn't know whose room you were in, but it surely couldn't be Daryls. It was much to clean for that, too prim and proper. A guest bedroom then. A perfect bedroom for you- his guest, to sit in and hold back tears, being too overstimulated and anxious to actually enjoy yourself.  

Picking at your dress, the skin-tight baby blue fabric making you feel claustrophobic, you listened to the muffled sound of some shitty pop song, the bass loud enough to rattle the floorboards under your feet. 

You thought of Peter as you peered over into the full body mirror, taking in your body as you watched the tears fall. You wondered what he was doing, if he was having a better time than you were. 

God you hoped so. 

Peter would be able to brighten your mood, as he often did without even realizing it. You wished he were here. But this place, this “party” wasn't a scene for the man you had taken interest in over these past few weeks. He seemed like the type to hate this environment, as much as you secretly did. 

So why the hell was he standing in the doorway, his messy hair poking out at you as he creaked it open slowly?

 “Peter?” was all you could let out, in a state of shock that your prayers had been answered. Wiping the stray tears away with a sniffle, you stood as he made his way in the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

 “What are you doing here?” 

“Are you okay?” he asked, ignoring your curiosity as he walked over to you slowly, worry etched on his face as clear as day. You swallowed, fighting the urge not to break out in a sobbing fit. 

No, I’m not okay. I want to go home. So badly. 

“I’m fine. Just.. needed a break from the crowds I guess.” you murmured, watching as he sat down next to you on the bed, patting the spot where you previously sat, bedsheets ruffled. “This not really your scene?” he asked, in which you only responded with a nod, your teeth seeming stuck to your lower lip as you bit down. 

“Yea me either. I don't really know how it's anyone scene to be honest. It's just a lot of loud guys sloshing beer over everyone and terrible music that makes my ears bleed.” 

You laughed at this, warmth blooming in yur chest as he smiled. “Like seriously. I’m not a medical professional, but something is definitely wrong with my ears after hearing that shitty ass song that's been looped like- three times already. You can probably see blood.” he joked, hand snaking over to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, your gaze meeting his pitiful one as he smiled gently. 

He looked so pretty tonight, in that blue shirt you always adored. It brought out the colour of his eyes, which looked so pretty with the glasses he wore. 

He always looked so pretty. Pretty eyes, pretty hair, pretty muscles that seemed to strain behind the fabric. Pretty fingers and arm veins that you could see so clearly as he slid your hair out of your face, so he could see you better. 

“No blood... yet. I can't promise that later on though.” you teased, fighting the urge not to fall into this man's lap and curl up like a kitten, bawling your eyes out because of how overstimulated you were from the party down below. 

Peter must have sensed this, this tidal wave of anxiety that was desperately trying to be freed from the dam you had built up. Giving your hand a reassuring squeeze, he sighed. 

As if he were tired of this too. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” he murmured tenderly, making your heart race. You had heard those words from many guys before, drunk and trying to get in your pants. You had always politely declined, having no interest in “getting out of there”. 

But with Peter, it was gentle. 

He was worried for you, and wanted to make sure you were safe. Comfortable. He wanted to get you out of this place he knew you hated, to sweep in and be your prince charming. 

And you gladly let him. 

“Please. I’ll text my friends I’ve headed out when we can somehow find a way out of that maze of people.” 

“Let's get out of this jungle, Indiana Jones.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding once you and Peter managed to find yourselves on the empty sidewalks, the music now just a dull hum under the fluorescent street lights. 

It was like swimming against the tide filtering through the lingering bodies of the crowd, everyone too drunk to understand you were trying to leave the party, not stay in it. 

The smell of beer and cheap booze was now gone, the air clear enough you didn't see smoke floating in it as you walked with Peter. 

You didn’t really know where you were going. You just wanted out. 

You couldn't go home, as you told your parents you were staying over at Mindy's house for the night. They were too lost in arguing or drinking to really bother calling her parents to make sure you stayed there. 

So you mindlessly walked the streets of Queens with Peter, listening to nothing but the pounds of sirens wail and traffic speed by, and your heels clicking on the pavement below. They didn’t seem to do much next to Peter, as he continued to tower over you. 

You felt like a kid next to him with how.. well- large he was. He wasn't “jacked” by any means, but he had muscles. A solid weight to him, and height too.

 It was this observation that got you asking a question you had always secretly wanted to ask, the emptiness of the streets giving you the confidence to speak it. 

“Why don't you play basketball Peter? You have a really nice build for it. Like.. really nice. You’d be amazing on the team.” He looked over at you, eyebrow raised in amusement. “Are you flirting with me bunny?” 

You looked away, wanting nothing more than to hide in an alleyway, and spend the rest of your days there. You got so flustered around Peter.

 “N-no. I mean yes! I don't know.” you stuttered, making matters worse for yourself. He seemed to think it was cute though, laughing as he nudged your arm with his own. 

“You have a really nice build too bunny. Especially tonight. I was meaning to tell you earlier, but ya know- timing. You look really pretty.”

 Well if that didn’t make your heart flutter like a hummingbird.  

“And to answer your question, I don't play basketball because it's not interesting to me. I have other things to occupy my time with.” 

“Like photography?” you asked eagerly, genuinely curious. He smiled. “Like photography. And science, I like building things in my spare time.” 

And I like thinking of you. All the time. And taking pictures of you, and admiring those photos as hobby, because I am so in love with you, and you don't even realize it. But no, just photography and science. Of course. 

“That's so cool! I’ve always wanted to make a robot or something interesting.” you gushed, more and more drawn to this man by the minute. 

You felt his hand slip down to rest on your lower back, touch comforting as the chill night's breeze slithered through the air, coiling around the hairs on your arms like snakes. 

He was warm, his body smelling like cinnamon and fresh coffee grounds. You liked it. You liked it so much you barely realized as he guided you up the steps, leading to double doors to an apartment complex, one you knew he had been in so many times before. 

He punched in a keycode like it was second nature, never breaking eye contact as he watched your lips move, not really hearing the words that came out of them. 

You couldn't care less where he was taking you, too entranced with Peter to pay any mind. He could be leading you down to the seventh pit of hell for all you knew, and you wouldn't give a shit. 

As long as he was there, doing that little nose scrunch he did when he was concentrated, or running his fingers through his hair, just to have it fall in his face a meer seconds later, you'd stay. 

You'd do anything he asked of you. 

And he knew this, and he’d be damned if he didn’t pull the strings a little bit. You were so easy, a glass puppet he could use, and play with. 

His puppet. His toy.

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“My aunts gone for the weekend, so I figured you’d be okay with staying here for a bit.” he said, shutting the door behind him, watching as you surveyed the quant space. 

The sound of the deadbolt clicking into place made you flinch, breaking the pattern of your steady breathing. You looked over at him, a sly grin on his face as he let the chain slide into place, flicking on more light to illuminate the space. 

It was adorable here. 

Little knick-knacks scattered across the bookshelves filled to the brim with old hardcovers, houseplants and vines overspilling the space. It looked like Peter and his family actually lived here.

 They had made it a home, and had made it their own, unlike the other people you knew- who looked like they lived in an IKEA showroom. 

You smiled as you slid off your shoes, little frilly socks a soft cushion against the old hardwood as you padded over to a framed photo of a woman no later than her late thirties with a younger, smiling Peter. 

“That's my aunt.” he nodded at the frame, making his way over to the kitchen, tossing the keys up on the island, watching you intently.

 “She's beautiful.” you exclaimed setting the frame back down as you followed Peter over to the couch. His arm slung around the back cushions, resting there almost as if it were an invitation. He drummed his fingers to the silent song that played through the speakers of his mind, brushing against your shoulder softly as you sat down beside him. 

You made no move to shy away from him, despite your inner monologue screaming at you to run under his bed and hide like a frightened little child because you felt your brain turning to mush the closer you sat to him, the more you inhaled his comforting scent that had you seeing double. 

“What.. um what should we do?” you squeaked out, his gaze cool and collected, despite the reply that ran through his head like a script. 

We should fuck. And I mean fuck. Doggy, but in a mirror so I can see your pretty face when you cum, and you can see how well we go together, how well you take me despite being a tight lil thing. Maybe I can stuff your- now my panties in your mouth for good measure.

“Whatever you want to do, bunny.” he raised his eyebrows, making you strum your fingers against your lower lip in thought. 

“Hmm. That's a lot of responsibility, I don't think I can handle that.” you giggled, hand coming down to adjust your dress as your legs tucked neatly underneath you. To prevent him from seeing what he really wanted to see, but little did you know he’d already seen it. 

Many times. 

“Too much responsibility for your lil brain hm? Need me to make decisions?” he teased, making you gulp, his words affected you more then they should have. 

He was teasing, a little joke about how indecisive you were. You were extremely, and everyone knew it.

 So why did you feel a wetness pool into your panties at the words that slipped out as smooth and sweet as honey, your thighs clenching as he smirked at you?

 A nod was all you could muster, fueling the fire behind his eyes even more, adding wood to the embers. “Not really good at making decisions.” you confessed, shuffling in your seat. 

It was hot in here. Like really, really hot. Unnessicalarly hot. 

Sweat clung to you like dew drops as your breath quickened, his presence so near it made you feel sick. In the best way possible. Peter made you feel like a frightened little lamb, grazing in a little meadow filled with little wildflowers and butterflies- leading you into a slaughterhouse. 

That slaughterhouse was filled with your desires, your wants and needs that you had suppressed and pushed down for so long because you were scared.

 Despite what some people thought you were inexperienced. 

You barely ever touched yourself, and had never let anyone else touch you like that. So yes, you were frightened. You were vulnerable, because Peter had opened up these urges again. Had sprung the cap free from the bottle, your innocence leaking free.

 “Wha- what are you doing?” you whispered, voice as quiet as a mouse's footsteps as you felt his hand creep down to rush against your bare thigh, goosebumps rising in his wake.

 “Making the decision for you.” he smiled softly, though his eyes were nothing but soft. They were hungry. 

“What decision?” you gulped, tempted to close your thighs around his fingers that gripped your flesh, soft and delicate. 

It felt good. It felt so, so good and he had barely even touched you. But this was your first time actually hanging out, and this was wrong. 

This was my first time hanging out with her and I was taking advantage of her. Because she was so easy to manipulate. Because she was just so, so sweet and good.

His hand pried your legs apart ever so slightly, a little whimper escaping your lips that you prayed would get past him. 

It didn’t though, of course. Nothing ever did. 

A soft, gentle noise spurred him on, his knuckles running up and down the eighth of your thigh, his touch warm against your skin. 

“The one you were too scared to make. The one you want, deep down, that your baby brain can't comprehend.” 

Your eyes widened, hand grabbing his wrist as he adjusted his posture to suddenly tower over you, pushing you back against the cushions. Your head hit the armrest with a little oof, a moan getting caught in your throat at the contact. 

“Peter-”

 “Don't ‘Peter’ me.” he cooed, as if he were talking to a baby kitten, hand stroking your cheek.

 “I can smell you, bunny. So sweet, bet you taste so delicious. You can't fight it, your body wants it. I know what your body needs. I know what you need.” he urged, knowing his words had you wrapped in a chokehold. 

You were about to be KOed by him, body falling to the mat without you even realizing it. 

“You do?” you asked, naive. 

Curious. 

Because of course Peter knew more than you, of course he understood what was going on with you. He understood these funny feelings that seemed to bubble in your stomach, consuming you whole. 

“Of course I do, bunny. You have to trust me, trust is key in a relationship. In any relationship. I would never hurt you, don't you know that?” 

Except he wasn't hurting you. He was hurting your innocence. Not that you were fully aware of that, of course. 

“But, we’ve never hung out before this and I just.. I don't want you to think I’m taking advantage of you.” you murmured softy, breath quickening as his thumb neared your lips, tugging on the lower one with his thumb.

 He wanted to laugh. Oh gosh, you were really like a little fawn. 

“You’d never take advantage of me bunny, not ever. I would just be such a bad person if I didn’t help with those funny feelings I know you have right now.” he tilted his head, mock sympathy etched on his face like a carved marble statue. 

“I don't know what they really are, I’ve never really-”

 “You don't have to know. You shouldn't know, anything right now. Let me know, for you.” he insisted, dragging his thumb to smear your lipgloss, the sparkles stained on him like a brand. 

His eyes never lingered from yours as he smeared the gloss across his lower lip, his tongue darting out to taste. “Mmm strawberry.” he grinned wickedly, making you giggle softly. 

But he knew that already.

 “It’s my favorite.” you whispered as his hand hiked up your dress, chest rising and falling quickly as he unwrapped you like a present on Christmas morning. Your head lolled to the side, leather caressing your cheek as Peter traced a slightly calloused finger down your abdomen, teasing you. 

“Aren't you precious?” he murmured to himself, as if you were a test subject, and he was recording notes on how each touch, each taste affected you. He wanted to capture a picture of you in this moment, frame it and hang it perfectly center in his room. 

This one, this one would take the prize. 

The way you looked right now, so eager, yet confused spurred him on more than he thought was possible- doe eyes wide and mouth slightly parted as little gasps escaped you.

 “Feels funny-” you moaned, the feeling of electrical shocks coursing through your limbs the closer he inches to your clothed cunt. 

“Shh, shh I know. I know, but you gotta trust me bunny. Trust me. Trust daddy- yea?” he shushed, hand cupping your mound, making your hips buck up with a start. 

“Oh godd-” you cried, Peter's fingers gently tapping the wet spot that had overtaken your panties, your slick smearing on his skin as he grinned. 

“Such a messy girl aren’t you? Virgins always are. So easy to get wet.”  

You didn't know how he knew you were a virgin, and quite frankly- you didn't care. Mr. Bear would disagree with Peter, your slick across his fur the odd time a key indicator of that. 

But going against your stuffed teddy didnt nearly feel as good as this. 

Nothing did. 

His fingers began to rub little circles across your clit, the feeling of pleasure so startling and overwhelming that your hand snaked down to grab his wrist with such urgency you feared you had hurt him. Eyes wide, you whimpered. 

“I can't- we can't-” 

“Yes, we can. I know it feels funny but you gotta stay still and take it. Be a good girl.” he growled, voice husky and consumed with lust as he continued to play you like an instrument, fingers reading each cord your body demanded from the staff.

 “See, there we go bunny! Just sit there and take it like my pretty lil dolly.” he praised you softly as your hips attempted to still, your legs starting to shake from the overstimulation. 

It was too much. Too, too much.

 Before you even realized what you were doing, you felt your thumb slip into your mouth- a coping mechanism you had used when your brain was turning fuzzy and cloudy, like a mirror fogging up during a shower. 

Vulnerability. He was teasing you into submission, into regression. 

“Awh poor baby. Feels so good, doesn't it bunny? You look so pathetic for me.” he cooed, a mock pout etched on his face as he pinched your inner thigh, making you squeal as you felt the elastic in your stomach snap, gushing all over his hand. 

It was pure bliss, the way you sounded, your moans and little breathless gasps of pleasure driving him up the wall. The way you were absentmindedly grinding into his hand, the cushions of his palm bumping into your clit as he brought you down from your high had the seams of your innocent breaking, your body taking the pleasure it needed. 

The pleasure it deserved. 

“There we go, good girl. Such a good, good girl.”

 You had made a mess- everywhere.

 God, you were embarrassed.

“M’so sorry.” you gasped, in shock you had came that hard from his touch alone. “Don't apologize bunny, your body needed that. You've been denying her of it for so, so long and you need to learn your lesson.” he tsked, fingers tickling you as they wrapped around the flimsy waistband, tugging the lace down past your thighs. 

It was as if you wanted to get fucked. As if you wanted to be used. And he’d be damned if he didn’t indulge you. 

“What lesson?” you questioned, a flutter of anxiousness laced in your voice as the cool air hit your exposed cunt, your clit throbbing from the stimulation it had just received. 

Your poor cunt was all swollen and puffy. Oh well. 

“You need to give your pretty little body what it wants, what it needs. Stop denying me. But don't worry-” he smiled cruelly, the sound of his belt jangling made you shiver with anticipation, a ball of arousal mixed with flurries of anxious butterflies churning in your stomach.

 “Daddy's here now, to help you. Say ah” You obeyed, feeling as if you had no choice but to part your lips wide. The image above you was pure sin, Peter's eyes as black as the night sky as he stuffed the panties in your mouth, making you choke on a gasp. 

You sputtered as the sweet, salty taste hit your tongue, a muffled cry threatening to burst from your lips as is thoughts raced. This was all he had ever wanted, and now that he was finally getting it? 

He felt on fire. 

He felt as he would simply perish from the insides, flame charring the blood that roared in his ears as he overshadowed you. The desire that coursed through him was inhumane- animalistic as he stroked away a stray tear with his thumb, the hint of fear blending with the desire in your eyes giving all the information he needed to know. 

You were scared. You didn’t know what you wanted. He had to teach you. To train you. 

“We’d be so perfect together- ya know.” he hushed, cutting off your plea of a jumble between ‘please and his name. The dress bunched up slipped off you with ease as he guided it over your head, pinning your arms up helplessly. 

“You’d be my little doll. Mine to- Hey, hey eyes up here.” he warned, making your eyes flicker back up to meet his as he spread your legs even further. 

You whined. He just smiled. 

“Mine to dress up and play with, cause you're such a good girl bunny.” he hummed, head thrown back in pleasure as he entered you, your nails scratching his skin as you wailed making him even harder. 

You were just what he dreamed of. So tight, and wet and warm- 

Your eyes rolled back at his words, his mindless, endless rambling distracting you from the burn in your belly as he sank into you deeper. He wasn't even all the way in yet. 

Oh, you were fucked. 

“G-god dammit bunny your little cunts grippin me. Can’t- can't think when you're this pretty for me.” he moaned, his cock brushing against your walls as he slowly stretched you, despite his body telling him to ram into you so hard you passed out. 

He wasn't that cruel. Yet. 

It was hard to breathe with the gag stuffed in your mouth, your vocal cords scratching as you moaned into the soaking fabric that was now also covered in your spit. 

You were lightheaded from the stimulation, pleasure blurring from pain as you clung onto the sound of his sweet voice.

 “Shh, shh sweet girl I know, I know it's so much isn't it? But you're handling it so well. Look at me all up in your guts hmm?” You looked down, the outline of his cock in your abdomen making you hiccup as he pressed on it gently. 

All you could do was sit and squirm as he used you, slowly rocking into you with each whisper of praise that left his lips, making you feel dirty. 

This was filthy. This was dirty, and wrong. But you loved it. You loved the way he was making you feel, the way he knew what was best for you. If Peter said your body needed this, then it did. 

No room for further discussion.

 “Mghm” was all you could murmur, body shaking as you came around him, vision white with bliss. You were floating among the cosmos, feeling as if you had taken a hit from Daryl's weed at the party earlier. 

It was euphoric, the way this man had made you feel without even trying. Without making you do anything. 

No, you let him take the reins. You had seen things in the movies before, where the girls tended to give and give to make the man happy. This wasn't with Peter. 

He was the giver. 

He gave you pleasure, but the pleasure he gave you was so good he had to take some from himself as well. He couldn't explain to you how good he felt in words, so he showed you. 

Pounded into you, slow and deep. Made you feel each thrust, each kiss, each lick of his tongue against your cheeks as he cleaned the salty tears. 

“God baby bunny you made such a mess over me hm? Creamed my cock dry. Guess it's only fair I finish inside you, stuff you nice n deep for your first time…” 

A rub of your clit and the sound of his whine was the last thing you heard before the lights went out.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter was still in a state of shock.

 He felt as if he was walking on air, a ghost as he floated around the apartment. 

This was real. This was very, very real. 

Any one of his hundreds of fantasies, any images that scattered across in his mind like camera flashes couldn't compare to how exquisite you were. 

How good you felt. 

He knew the second you had looked at him with those wide doe eyes, with such innocence he was done for. He couldn't contain himself anymore. 

Peter had given you every last drop of his cum, stuffing it in your sensitive cunt with his fingers. He couldn't let a single drop go to waste. He had been dreaming about it for too long. 

The rise and fall of your chest brought him back down to some form of reality, realizing what exactly had happened. He had ruined you. Taken your innocence. 

It was his now. His possession. Just like how you soon be. 

Hands running through his hair, he smiled at your passed out figure, taking the panties out of your mouth. 

He’d be keeping these, as well as your other ones. A collection, he decided. 

A new hobby. 

Peter made his way over to the bathroom, warming up a soft washcloth with warm water. He wasn't sure what kind of lotion you liked, although he often smelt vanilla on you. It was one of his favorite scents. 

He’d be sure to pick some up tomorrow, but for now- his lotion would have to do. A gentle whistle sounded from his lips as he nudged his bedroom door open, a picture of your smiling figure greeting him as he switched on the bedside light. 

The fact he didn’t even need any pictures tonight made him smile. He had you. Right where he wanted you. 

There was a pep in his step as he snagged you a sweater, a soft blanket (that smelled of him, he obviously made sure of this, he wasn't stupid) and a glass of water from the kitchen before making his way back to you. 

You were still passed out among the cushions, goosebumps rising on your skin as he neared. “Sleepy lil kitty.” he sang softly, flicking your nose gently. He was met with a soft snore, making him shake his head in amusement. 

He really did fuck you dumb, and then into sleep didn’t he? 

You were so beautiful. That's all he could think of, peering down at you. He had always thought you were beautiful, through the lens of his camera. 

But up close and personal, where he could see each little dimple, each mark and ridge, he thought you were breathtaking. 

I’m not very photogenic. Those words were utter bullshit. 

Before he knew what he was doing, he had made his way back down the hall-  stumbling back into his room. Grabbing his polaroid camera after half jumping into some boxers and pj pants- he gravitated down the darkened hall back to you. 

His angel. His bunny.

 The flash reflected across your body as he snapped the photo, the whirling of the camera not making you move an inch as you remained in slumber. 

Peter would make you feel photogenic. He would make you feel beautiful, make you feel like the most stunning model in the entire universe every day- if you let him. 

But let's be honest here, you really wouldn't have much of a choice, now would you?

[reysdriver]

Skate Park | P.P.

Your boyfriend wants to teach you how to skate — peter x gn!reader fluff

warnings: mentions of injury (no actual injury tho)

words: 1k

"Eight out of ten." You tell your boyfriend after he does a kickflip. "Pretty good, but you could have stuck the landing better."

"I was distracted looking at you." Peter flirted back. 

"Try it again, don't look at me this time." 

"I'll try." 

He attempted the trick again, but he kept his eyes on you the whole time, causing him to stumble a bit at the end. 

"Four out of ten for that one!" You laughed. "I told you not to look at me."

"Oh, come on, that was not a four!"

"I'm the judge, and you love me, so you can't question me." You said with a smug grin.

"I can when the judge in question doesn't even know how to skate." 

"No, skating is your thing." You told him. "Plus it's dangerous."

"No, it's not."

He slowly skated towards you while you sat on the bench beside the empty skate park. 

"Do you want me to teach you?" He asked. 

He stepped off the skateboard, keeping one foot on his board and having the other on the ground to keep him steady. He held out his hand like a gentleman asking for a dance. 

"Absolutely not." You said, taking his hand and standing up with him. 

He smiled at you as he took your hand and pulled you onto the board with him. He pulled you closer to him so you could both fit. 

"Are you ready?" He asked with a smile.

"I think so." You muttered. 

"Perfect." He said, using his foot to push the two of you down the concrete.  

As you felt the board start to move you both, you clung on to his arms for safety. He felt your tightening grip on his body, and tried unsuccessfully to suppress a simper that was rising onto his cheeks. 

Though the board was moving quite slowly, you felt like you were flying. And though Peter had his arms wrapped around you, you still had your eyes shut tight in anticipation of an accident. 

"You alright?" He asked you. 

"I feel like we're going to fall." 

"So you want to speed up?" He teased, kicking the ground so you'd go even faster. 

"No, Peter, please."

"You want to go faster?" 

Though you were absolutely terrified, he kept the increased speed and headed towards the ramp. 

"No, Peter. Not towards the ramp thing." You pleaded. "No, I'm already scared I'm going to break something." 

"Come on, (y/n/n), it's the only way to face your fears."

He kept you held tightly into his chest as he sped up and projected you both towards the curved ramp on the side of the park. 

The two of you went up and around it, so that in five seconds, you were back on the bottom level of the concrete structure. 

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" He said quietly. Well, maybe it was quiet. Maybe it was just the ringing in your ears from your first time skateboarding.  

You opened your eyes at the sound of his voice and the tense feeling in your stomach calming like the end of a thunderstorm. 

"No, it was actually alright." You admitted, pushing your (y/h/c) hair behind your ear.

"What did I tell you? Now, do you think you can try it alone? I'll spot you, of course."

"Only if I get to go really slowly." You said as a half-joke. 

He smiled, then loosened his hold on you and stepped off of the skateboard, leaving you on the unsteady plank all alone. 

"Okay, so I'll hold your waist just a bit, but you'll be fine. We'll go up that little one over there." He said, gesturing to the smallest ramp in the park. 

"That one might be too much for me."  

"You'll be great. But you've got to push yourself over there. Just use your foot and kick to move." 

"Like this?" You asked, attempting to move the skateboard like you have seen your boyfriend do a million times before. 

"Yeah!" He said proudly. "Just like that, you're a natural."

You kept doing that, moving yourself across the skate park, thankful no one else was there to witness that. Once you got to the base of the ramp, Peter used his grip around your waist to help push you up since he knew it would be a little harder to go up an incline, but he let go again when you reached the top. 

"Alright, and now you just go down slowly, 'cause you'll build up a bit of speed as you go down."

You nodded and inhaled softly before you went down for the first time on your own, and the second time ever. You went down as slowly as you could, and were honestly amazed that you hadn't broken any bones on the way. 

"I did it!" You said gleefully. 

"You did!" Peter said, placing a sweet kiss on your temple as he held his foot on the skateboard for a moment. "Now do you want to try all on your own?"

"Why not?" You replied since you felt like you were in the clouds after that. 

He removed his foot from the sticker-covered skateboard and let you do your own thing, while still being close by for moral support or help if you needed it. 

You pushed yourself over to the same small ramp, but slightly more efficiently than last time. Once you got to the top, Peter flashed you a smile and held up his thumbs so you would feel comfortable before going down again. 

You did it, even better than last time, and you were now rolling down across the concrete when your boyfriend held out his hand to stop you from going too far or falling. 

"I did it!" You repeated. "How was it? Not bad for a first time, right?"

"Meh." He said with a faint smile. "I give it a four out of ten."

"Oh, shut up." You said with a giggle as you stepped carefully off the board. 

[sincericida]

Shirtless Andrew Garfield appreciation post:

Hope you enjoyed it. I didn’t know I needed this AG content crumbs post until I made him.

[jin0]

Your Friendly Neighborhood Sensitive Spider [TASM!Peter Parker]

Summary : Peter's senses are really easily overwhelmed. He always finds comfort in you. This time you're the reason of his sensitivity.

Pairing : TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Warning : 18+ ONLY, Minors DNI, smut, pure smut really, i can barely remember the plot, it's just filth, creampie, heats basically ??, primal kink, dark undertones, dub-con kinda, pet names (bunny), handjob, pussyjob, face sitting, cumplay, masturbation kinda, unprotected sex, rough sex, overstimulation of both peter and reader, manhandling of reader (peter basically doesn't stop fucking her), overwhelmed/oversensitive peter, titty worshipping (a teenie tiny bit), a lot of cum omg ?? genuinely, this is pure fucking smut, only that, kinda very precise description of physical features and sexual events ?? idk, please avoid at all costs if you think you might be triggered by any of these topics or the fic

A/N : did i write 10k plus words of smut ?? maybe... enjoy this because school is starting again and i bitch decided to pursue an education instead of running away in the wild

_________________________________________

Peter had always been very awkward with people and human interactions in general. It all came from his very good capacity to figure people out by simply looking at them. He was an incredible judge of character even before the spider bite and after that, it all turned into something else. That awkwardness of his had been turned into sensitivity, or even oversensitivity. He was easily stimulated by sounds, movements or smells and he had to learn how to live all over again.

Adaptation had been difficult at first but quickly he found tricks to work around life as discreetly as he could. One of these was you. You were the most efficient thing he ever came across when it came to calming his sensitive senses.

When he met you he’d could vividly remember having a terrible migraine because of the violence of all the noises around him. He had retreated to a secluded room, in an abandoned building on campus. He used it regularly to hide and was surprised to see someone in the room, you. You were sleeping on your bag and he wanted to leave but when he focused a little more, he was surprised to not hear a thing. He couldn’t hear the noises around except the sound of your soft breathing sounds.

He was absolutely flabbergasted, so much so that he rushed to you and kneeled in front of you to make sure he wasn’t going crazy. He even checked your pulse for you, completely ignoring your boundaries or personal space in the process, but making sure you were alive at least or not doing something to his brain. Weirdly enough, you had woken up a little surprised but not worried by the tall man looking frantically over you.

When you asked if he was okay, he leaped backwards. The whole move was very strange and when he thought about it, it was no wonder you’d guessed he was Spiderman. You had this effect on him, this hold on his senses and his mind, you just made it all so calm and effortless. He felt like he was seating on a cloud with soft satin pillows, heavy comforters and your soft legs wrapped around his waist. This was his happy place and every time he thought about it, he thanked his heightened senses for granting him the ability to feel it as if it was currently happening. He could feel the heat of your thighs on his palms, the scent of your collarbones and your soft and supple breasts serving as pillows for his face. You were his peace.

You made him feel so good, his entire body went numb to a point of losing the ability to think rationally. He remembered the things he would do when you two had become friends. Some random guy would scream and he’d start playing with your fingers. He’d be walking with you and a gust if wind would blow, his first instinct was to pull you towards him to have a little bit of your body heat. The sunlight would be too bright sometimes, he’d hide his face in the crook of your neck.

You’d grown use to it overtime, welcoming him with open arms. You had been able to understand the things that triggered him and would sooth his at the best of your capacities. Your favorite thing to do was bring his head to your shoulder and caress his hair softly while shushing him in a low voice. The low sounds brought him comfort and managed to drown everything around. You didn’t understand how but science wasn’t your things so you didn’t try to figure it out.

~

Peter’s need to physically feel you to be generally okay and able to go through his day without being the absolute worst often expressed in surprising ways. These ways you discovered them slowly, each and everyone of them slowly revealing themselves at the most random moments possible.

Again, you’d guessed he was Spiderman because this need to feel you prevailed over common sense. It happened on a Thursday night, you’d been writing an essay for one of your classes when you noticed the shadow of a figure in the distance. When you turned around, it quickly hid behind a wall. Now, the red fingertips and the fact that you lived on the fourteenth floor told you who it was very easily. You were no stranger to Spiderman and his weird way of appearing everywhere you were, but having him in front of your window was very new. Paying more attention to his physical shape, it was very familiar to you. Too familiar. You didn’t even think before pulling on his hand and bringing him towards you with a surprised expression mixed with a smile.

The moment you uttered his name, he wrapped you in his arms, falling on your floor and rolling around. He ripped his mask off and rubbed his nose on the crown of your head, inhaling your scent. He refused to lie to you, probably because he was incapable of doing so, and honestly, you already knew so he saw no point in fighting the truth. That night you stayed on the floor for a few hours before snuggling under your covers, still tangled in each other.

Now, to go back on topic, Peter Parker was one sensitive man just like he could find relief in you, you could also make it ten times worse for him at times. In these situations, you were the main trigger to his sensitivity and that he figured it out on one of the most random days of his life. On that fateful day he felt like he would die if he didn’t fuck you raw.

~

This had to be the worst fucking day possible to have superpowers. Genuinely, he was ready to trade body with whoever would be up for it. From the moment he woke up, he felt like his skin was burning all over. Covered in sweat and twisting uselessly, in hope of finding a little bit of peace and cold, he moaned out your name, begging for you to suddenly appear and save him.

"I... Fuck... I need my bunny... Where is she...?" He groaned, rolling around and searching you.

He’d managed to pull himself together just enough to get up and get ready but getting ready had been exhausting, his entire body feeling heavy and still burning as if he hadn’t spent twenty minutes under the most freezing shower ever. While on his way to the train station, he noticed that his senses seemed to be dulled, the sewer stench common to the streets of New York weirdly absent. His vision was blurry enough for him to need his glasses, he was hearing everything but it sounded like he was wearing earplugs and everything he touched felt sticky but distance. He was practically certain to be hallucinating half the things he thought he had touched.

Looking up from the floor, his head to heavy to be raised, he was attacked by something so familiar and good. The comfort he craved on a regular and specifically today. There you were, as beautiful as ever, your headphones wrapped around your head and your eyes looking off to the distance.

"Bunny..." He said softly, immediately feeling better.

He was pretty far from you, far enough to not usually be able to smell you but today he could. So distinctly, he felt dizzy the moment he took a big gulp of air. He could distinguish it all, separating each of the different things resulting in the most addictive smell he’s ever smelled in his life. The citrus from your body soap, the tropical fruits from your hair creams, the vanilla from your perfume, all of it was so vivid, attacking his nostrils and pulling him with force towards you.

He was like a lifeless being, incapable of thinking or seeing anything around him. He was surprised he didn’t fall or push anyone, skillfully dodging everyone around. He looked weird but clearly right now, it didn’t fucking matter, he needed to get to you. When he did, he couldn’t even speak, he simply grabbed your hand, pulling you towards him. He cradled your soft cheek, the warmth of your skin spreading against his palm.

His vision wasn’t blurry anymore, he could see very well, better than ever actually. He could also hear everything perfectly fine, most of everything being you and the sound of your heart beating, your breath speeding up or your blood rushing around your body. He could hear all of this vividly, all of you, alive and looking at him with that deadly smile of yours. He was crumbling, slowly sinking inside himself because of you. You were killing him, with your entire being and that he loved it. He’d never get enough if it.

"Fuck... Bunny, my bunny..."

He seemed to not give a flying fuck about the fact that they were outside, in public, in broad daylight and pulled you in for a desperate kiss. His lips covered yours in a matter of second, folding and molding around the shape of your mouth and sucking in the sweet taste of you. Shoving his tongue in your mouth, he held onto your jaw tight, forcing it open wide for him to invade you further.

You small hands were gripping on his shirt, trying to push him away slightly but failing miserably because you wanted him too. You always did anyways but you knew when was the time. The Peter kissing you right now, was scouring through your mouth, looking for you to fill his ears with those delicious sounds that only you could make. You knew what he wanted, he was moaning and groaning in your mouth and you could feel disapproving looks on your. You did what was best for you and your dignity, biting his tongue enough to hurt but not too much.

"F-Fuck ! Why ?! Need you bunny..." He whined, reaching towards your lips again but being stopped in his track.

"I know baby, but you can't just swallow my face in public... I promise I'll take care of you later."

When he groaned in displeasure, whining lowly before diving towards your lips again, you had to stop him dead in his track, laying a hand flat on his chest in a commending motion. He looked at you straight in the eyes and you noticed how far gone he was. It’s like he wasn’t there all together. He often got like that after sex but you a simple (not so simply, really) had him desperately needing you in the middle of the street. Something was clearly off but you would wait it out, maybe he would be back to normal in a few.

~

He was, in fact, not back to normal in a few. It actually got worst, way worse. By the end of the day, he felt like he was ready to pass out. His entire body was on fire, burning as if drenched in lava and he could barely move. He swung home because it would be faster but practically died hitting a few too many windows on the way. The moment he saw his apartment, he thanked his past self for keeping the window open and threw himself on his floor.

It felt cold and so comforting, he rolled himself around for as long as he could. Quickly, his long body covered his floor in heat and it became unbearable to deal with too. He threw his bag on his bed, completely ignoring the possible state of his laptop and other things. He let his cheek rest on the surface and let his body relax, feeling completely numb but a little better. The reoccurring memories of the day and the state he was in were playing in his mind. For the first time, you weren’t relief, you were the problem.

He had thought that his minor episode this morning, would be temporary and quickly dealt with. It was not. It increasingly got worst, his senses focusing entirely on you. He suffered through long hours of lectures, your scent sticking to his clothes and drowning him in need. He felt like you were everywhere on his, multiple versions of you clinging to his skin and whispering sweet and sultry words into his ear. He couldn’t feel you, skin hot and covered in this warm glow that broke him apart. He could barely see anything, the image of your sunkissed skin shining so bright he felt like he was floating around the sun. You were the sun to him anyways so it wasn’t too far from the truth.

It was like you were a siren, singing your best song to him, bringing him to his knees, ready to run away to the farthest corner of a forest and worship you for as long as you’d allow him near you. You were like an oasis in the hottest dessert there was, draining his life force. God, he was so fucking far gone, he could barely remember his name before yours.

“Pete ? You okay baby ?”

Jolting awake, he frantically looked around when your voice resonated in his head. He let out the neediest whine of pleasure mixed with happiness when he saw your gorgeous face come in view. There you were, looking down on him with worried eyes. He reached up, grazing his fingers on your cheek, nose and then lips softly. Parting them with his thumb, he shuddered when your breath hit his skin. You looked at him with sweet innocent eyes and he thought that would kill him but when you moaned through a whisper, practically inaudible to the average ear but not his, he jumped back, away from you.

He covered his face with his hands, muffling a scream that hid a desperate moan. What the actual fuck was going on with him ?! What was his fucking problem that he had to run away from you because touching your lips drove him crazy ?! He had to be mentally broken or something cause he felt his cock harden and violently twitch in his pants. Starting to breath heavily, he looked around his room for clothes to wear, he needed to change. Anything but fucking jeans honestly.

Reaching for them, he rips them away from his laundry basket with a hoodie to go with it before running to his bathroom and locking himself in. He let out a heavy breath, shivering in comfort at the feeling of the cold tiles under him. He delicately started to peel off his clothes, quickly coming to the realization that each time he brushed against his skin, he’d moan like a fucking idiot. He could feel your fucking scent on them and it’s like his clothes were begging to stick to his skin. He was going absolutely fucking crazy, last time this kind of shit happened, he’d been bitten by a radioactive spider specifically designed to give him superpowers. Maybe he had been bitten by another spider without noticing, that would be pretty logical considering the fact that the only thing he truly fully focused on here was you. Maybe the spider liked you as much as he did.

Once he’d finally managed to get rid of his clothes without moaning too loud, preventing you from hearing him, he sat on his floor, panting loudly, cheeks red and hips moving on their own. He could see the stain of his sensitive cock, dripping cum on the fabric of his boxers. Looking down towards the pulsating bulge, he could practically see your fingers wrapping around him and he instantly winced in both pain and pleasure at the thought. He cupped his thick girth and rubbed it against his warm palm, begging for it to go back down. He was moaning at each of the heavy rubs he’d leave on himself, your name sounding more and more like a plea than anything else. He was begging for you, cursing himself for not feeling so conflicted. He was ashamed of himself, red in embarrassment at his own actions but also feeling deprived and needy for more.

When he felt his hot cum spill out of his cock and cover his boxers, he let out a sigh of relief, eyes crossing at the wave of pleasure spreading through him. He let it all sink in, taking time to relax a little bit before going back out there.

“Peter ? You okay in there ? Do you need my help ?”

He snapped his head towards the door, his relaxation dissipating quickly and being replaced by his previous mood. He was back to square one, needy and pulsating in his pants like a fucking teenager, at the simple sound of your sweet, sweet, sweet angel like voice. You wanted to help, because you were that good, perfect even. A perfect, perfect girl for an imperfect boy who was being crushed under the weight of his heightened senses and the rough consequences they had on his sex drive.

You could help. You could save him even, oh that you could. You and those sweet lips of yours, you could help him greatly. You just needed to get on your knees and let him fuck your throat so hard, you’d feel your own vocal cords move against the tip of his cock. Or did he want to fuck that sweet velvety pussy of yours with his tongue ? Yes he did. He wanted to taste your insides, attach his tongue to your walls and engrave that honey taste in his head. He wanted to bury himself in you too, oh god he wanted that. He wanted to burn your feel on him, god he was ready to carve your name in his skin. It would heal but he wanted you wrapped around him, he wanted to be absorbed by you, completely nestled in your body, in your DNA.

He was fucking insane, completely off his rockers. He needed therapy and a shit load of medication clearly. Maybe a mental institution too, maybe that would fix him, if he could be fixed. If he wanted to be fixed. He was obsessed with you, his body craving your entire existence like an asthmatic would crave air. He was absolutely gone, lost in the ocean that you were, so wide and big and tempting. As anyone ever wanted to drown ? Because he did, he wanted to drown in you.

Quickly shuffling around to get rid of his boxers and slipping in the sweatpants, he opened the door to be faced by your worried face. He gave you his best smile (he looked absolutely fucking crazy) before swerving around you, trying to avoid touching you or breathing in your scent. He’d need to take extra precautions to not let you see through his desperation to fuck you.

~

As soon as he started his little scheme to appear normal in front of you, he was attacked by a new wave of arousal, heat burning him from the inside and jumping out of his body like a violent beast. Looking at you, smelling you, hearing you, all of this was tickling the salacious thoughts in his mind. They were bringing those images lf your naked body rubbing against his to life.

Come on Peter…

Don’t you want to play with me ? My pussy missed you so much.

Felt so empty without you and your cum Pete…

Please baby… Please, suffocate me… I want your cock in my throat…

Peter… Please love, look at my tits… All pretty and lonely, they need you…

I need you… Don’t you need me Peter ?

God, fuck… Yes he did ! Yes he needed you ! More than anything ! He couldn’t express the visceral need he had to scream than he needed you at the top of his lungs. He was ready to lose his voice and vocal cords to say that he needed you wrapped around him. He wanted to feel you all over, be in you skin, invade your every cell.

Thinking like a beast in heat, he couldn’t handle the additional feelings invading him when he noticed that he could feel your arousal. He didn’t know where it came from and honestly, he couldn’t care less. All he knew was that he was smelling the sweet scent of your leaking pussy and he was very close to jumping on you and feasting on your wet folds until he quenched his thirst. He was desperate, for release, he needed you to heal him, save him from his misery.

Rubbing his long body on the mattress, praying for a little friction to free him from his torture, he whined when his skin brushed against yours. Your exposed thighs, soft against the back of his hand, he could feel the heat of your body on his. That heat, he could recognize it anywhere, it was even frightening how he found himself seeking it. Burning hot like lava and turning his entire being into a pile of ash, you were like a volcano. That heat, he couldn’t get used to it, he was responsible for it, that lust pumping through his veins every time you touched you. You were needy for him but you could contain yourself. Now he couldn’t.

Laying his heavy head on your exposed thighs, he rubbed his nose on your flesh, inhaling the scent of your core and drinking it the aroma he could taste on his tongue. His mouth was watering at the thought of your drenched folds coating his lips and entire face. He wanted you to sit on his face, right now.

He distanced himself, practically falling off the bed and ripping his sweatshirt off before throwing it in a corner if the room. That was probably a stupid move on his part because he was now shirtless, erection in full view for you to see and fawn over. You always enjoyed the whole gray sweatpants thingy but never that much until Peter. With him it was a whole different story, no amount of boxers would be able to hide what he had to offer and clearly he opted for the no boxers alternative.

Biting your lip, you hoped he couldn’t see how drenched your panties were already. You were a terrible person maybe. Your boyfriend was in pain, suffering from an unknown illness and needed as much comfort as he could get but you still found time to drool over his barely covered body. You were, indeed, a terrible person.

Looking at him with an amused smile, you slid your hand in his hair, scratching his scalp and soothing his inner turmoil a little. He couldn’t understand what was going on and he didn’t feel like it right now, you could feel that. You knew he needed you but you didn’t want to press him, you wanted him to come to you. And seeing how touchy he was being, you knew you wouldn’t wait long. You jumped slightly when he violently ripped himself away from you to crawl to a corner in the room.

“Oh my fucking God ! Peter are you okay ?! Do you need me to call somebody ?! Maybe Gwen, she has medical or scientific expertise !” You blabbered, panicking at his sudden actions

“No ! Please no ! Do not call… Call anyone… I’m g-good…” He begged, eyes screwed shut and trying to peal his clothes off as if the were his skin.

He threw his head back, resting it against the wall and spreading his legs wide. He couldn’t move anymore, he was breathless, horny and exhausted. If he moved, he felt like he was in a burning shower the water sucking out every drop of water in his body. He was desperate now, or at least more than he was before. He couldn’t handle this sudden new development in his body. He didn’t care if it meant he was dying or something, he just wanted help.

You got closer to him, placing yourself between his legs and laying a hand on his thighs while the other cupped his cheek tenderly. You were worried, hell probably more than simply worried. He could feel it, and he could feel your throbbing cunt from where he was. It was as if your body was vibrating at a frequency that only him could feel and it was torturing him. You were like a siren screaming in his ears to tell him that you needed him to fuck you badly. He who found comfort in you most of the time was being tortured by you too at the moment. The irony of the situation was very unpleasant.

“Baby, please… Tell me what you need... I can’t stand watching you get all weird and sickly without being able to help… I’m not the best scientist but I got Google for that… Please let me help.” You pleaded with that deadly sweet voice. He was being physically suffocated by the honey that your voice was, drowned like a bee that got too close to Paradise.

Looking at you, his brain suddenly shut off completely, the fight against insanity lost miserably. He fought long and hard but clearly, this enemy was too strong, the enemy was you after all. He looked down at the prominent bulge showing through his sweats, if we could call this a bulge. He couldn’t distinctly see the shape of his girth through the fabric, practically begging to come out. He hissed, almost painfully, at the vibrations of his member, looking up to your sweet face in awe.

He was practically crying for help, anything to calm him down. He was conflicted, wanting you close but knowing that it would only make him feel worse. He retreated further in the corner, wrapping his body in his arms and blinking back the weird haze he was in. His breath was loud and short. It sounded strained and come out with difficulty, as if breathing made him suffer. And it did, every breath he took, carrying with it the memory of what you tasted like. He could feel your taste in his mouth when he breathed and it would rush down straight to his cock every time.

“P-Please… Please I can’t… I can’t do this a-anymore… I can’t stand it…” He cried softly. Your worry skyrocketed and you tried to get closer to hug him tight but he jerked, rejecting your hands on him. “I… I need… I need you to leave… Or to just… J-Just let me fuck you… I promise I’ll be good, and I’ll clean you up after but please… Choose for me…”

You looked at him with loving eyes, the worry dissipating and allowing you to nod slowly towards the option he was silently begging for you to pick. Letting his body move on its own, his large hands slid under the hem of your skirt, taking two handfuls of your ass and hoisting you up effortlessly. You yelped, your hands shooting up to his shoulders as he sat you on his lap, carefully positioning your core over the wet patch formed by the tip of his cock. He bit the inside of his mouth, keeping his own needy moans to himself as his started grinding against you.

“P-Pet-“ He was quick to shut you up, two of his fingers finding refuge in your hot mouth, pressing down on your tongue.

“Don’t… Don’t fucking say a word…” He groaned, looking attentively at your bodies moving in sync. “Fuck… Do… Do you have any idea of how much I wanted my cock stuffed in that pretty pussy of yours today…? I barely got though the fucking day, thinking I was going fucking crazy… Never been so fucking sensitive before, fuck…”

His free hand grabbed your waist, holding it tightly and pushing you down harder. He couldn’t feel the pulsating of your folds on his bulbous tip, body your centers, leaking and wiping over the other. He should’ve been ashamed by the wet patch on his joggers but he was too busy focusing on the thought of you riding him while he kept his mouth stuffed with your panties.

He groaned in pleasure, a little louder than he was already doing, when he felt your soft fingertips on his wrists, wrapping tight around it to pull your fingers out of your mouth. He looked up at your face and felt his body melt under your gaze, eyes soft and loving but also sharing pure lust and pleasure. He couldn’t see them try there hardest to not cross in pleasure, something you did that absolutely drive him crazy.

Whining into the palm of his hand, you licked the tip of his digits sensually before diving them low against your body. You ‘et go of his wrist to let him do what he wanted, simply lifting your skirt to show what he’d been truly looking for.

“Oh fuck…” He exhaled, looking down at you as if you’d shown him the Holy Grail. His fingers slid under the elastic of your panties slowly before ripping them off of your body in one singular motion. Caressing your exposed hips and your uncovered ass, his fingers dove down on your folds, sliding in between the flesh and stroking his fingers back and forth. You threw your head back in pleasure, his thumb rolling around your pulsating clit.

He was absolutely mesmerized, practically forgetting everything around him. His fingers were drinking in the sensation of your juices coating his fingers. His senses were on alert but not for danger, for more of you. The needed to feel you all over, to have you wrapped nicely around him, sucking out every drop of energy and possibly life even. He was ready to give his life force to you at this exact moment. Was he okay ? Probably not. Did he really care ? Absolutely not.

Raising you up once again, he threw you over his shoulder, inhaling the scent of your wetness coating your inner thighs. His fingers were quick to come play with your exposed mound, gathering your slick and licking it off of his fingers. He walked, painfully hard erection visible through his sweatpants still and ready to be tended to. That would need to wait, for now, Peter needed to do something first, he’d been thinking about it for too long to simply ignore it.

Laying you on the mattress, on your back, you watched attentively, finally able to fully see his face. He looked absolutely magnificent even when the exhaustion was clear on his features. His lips, red and plump, were parted, air coming out in heavy breaths while he tried to focus. His face was flushed, red and sweaty, he tried to calm himself down, you could feel it. He was battling with his needs.

When you reached up to him, he pulled you forward by the wrist, forcing your chest against his as he hungrily kissed you. Your lips tasting like sweet, fresh berries, he bit on your flesh and swallowed the surprised moans coming out of you. How could you not be surprised when the man you loved was practically swallowing your face, ripping the literal oxygen out of your lungs ? You couldn’t, not when he was acting as if the universe had deprived him of you.

His hand slid down your back, pushing you against his chest and pressing his lips further against yours. His tongue, warm and wet, was diving deep in your mouth, licking as far as he could reach and sucking in your delicious taste.

He was overwhelmed by the sensations he was feeling and the ones you were feeling. He could feel it all, everything was ten times worst than usual, everything was enhanced. His senses were being drowned by your intoxicating scent, your sweet taste, the soft feeling of your skin and the siren like sound of your voice. All of you was pushing him down a cliff, hell, he was jumping down himself, willingly and expecting the result eagerly.

“P-Peter… Peter wait… C-Can’t…” You moaned in his mouth, trying to pry him away from you, loosing air fast. He didn’t let up, taking your jaw in hand and keeping you close to him until he felt you truly loose air.

“Sorry…” He apologized without really meaning it. He was staring at your lips and probably wanted more of them but you were panting hard, trying to catch your breath in his arms.

Ignoring you, his kept himself busy by rubbing his nose against the veins of your neck. His nose, inhaled that specific smell that only you had, trying to engrave it into his senses.

Suddenly straightening himself, he swallowed hard, as if he was on the verge of tears. You observed his movements, your eyes doubling in size, when he ripped his sweatpants off of his own body and tossed the shredded fabric on the floor. You were so surprised, you couldn’t even pay attention to his throbbing cock, pulsating against his stomach. You didn’t know if you should’ve focused on that or the fact that the act in itself had you clenching your thighs desperately. You sometimes forgot how strong Peter was and all the things he could do to you if he wanted.

Feeling how aroused you just got at the display of physical strength, he gave you one of those dopey smile he gave when either tired or extremely horny. You loved it so much, you wanted to coo at him but he was quick to remind you of his true intentions. Grabbing your wrist, he brought your hand close to his girth and exhaled in pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of head when your fingers wrapped around him.

“Ugh… Fucking hell bunny… You’re killing me…” He whispered, voice breathless before you’d fully done anything.

You instantly knew what you had to do, his heavy shaft pulsating in your closed fist. You admired the shape of his cock, red and covered in past strings of cum, still leaking out of his tip. You could feel the blood rushing through it, the veins bulging out and vibrating on your skin. You looked up, meeting his dark eyes, telling you (more like begging or ordering you) to do something, anything. He would take anything from you.

You started stroking his cock, smiling with pride when he moaned your name loudly. It was strained, almost stuck in his throat, but he pushed it out at the feeling you’re your skin on his warm cock. He was finally reaching peace, getting closer to salvation at each of your moves. You got closer to him, still moving but changing pace to go faster, and laid your free hand flat again his chest. You felt his abs flex understand your fingers. He looked down on you, ignoring his hips as the started to fuck your fist nice and slow.

When you started pecking his exposed chest, he knew he would spend the rest of the night doing the countless obscene things he had in mind. He bit his lips, keeping in tears of pleasure that were threatening to spill out of his gorgeous brown eyes but letting the desperate moans come out without a care in the world.

He felt dizzy, from both pleasure and his eyes jumping between your hand on his dick and your lips on his chest. You were pecking high, living butterfly kisses on his collarbones before sliding lower on his torso. You were still looking up at him and he was slowly dying inside, feeling big load of cum about to burst out of his oversensitive cock.

“You okay baby… It’s okay… I’m here love, do what you want…” You muttered, your voice hitting his skin and traveling through his body at the speed light.

“Ah… Aahhh fuck… Please… Please I’m begging you… Please…” He didn’t know what he was begging for honestly but he just needed you to do something, anything. He was begging for anything from you, anything you could give he would take how of love and pure lust.

Holding the back of your nape, he caressed your nape tenderly, his hips still moving and fucking himself inside your closed fist. His moans echoed louder around the room, perfectly in sync with the movement of your wrist and the soft kisses you left on his skin.

Seeing his cum shoot out to cover parts of your face and your covered breast drove him even deeper down the hole of insanity he was sinking in. Vision so blurry he was certain that he would faint soon, he let loose, loud and lustful moan escaping his swollen lips. Both red like cherry, you looked up at him as he unconsciously kept moving his hips against your palm.

You felt it, he needed more and he wouldn’t need to tell you, his stiff and throbbing cock would do the job. But you were prevented from really doing anything or even thinking clearly about what you wanted to do to him. He took control fast by lifting you off the mattress and carrying you against his chest again. He took you place, sitting down on the bed and putting you on his lap.

He was moving with both control and pure instinct, looking like an animatronic, wired and programmed to work a certain way. He was indeed, working fast and eagerly, searching for the next target of his assault to your body. He was served with everything he craved the whole day and could barely think about where he wanted to start.

His dilemma was quickly resolved by the subtle moan that escaped your beautiful lips when your when your leaking cunt rubber against his veiny girth. Feeling the wetness coat him all over, he couldn’t help but drool shamelessly at the thought of having it in his mouth. Yeah, he wanted you to sit on his face still. So he laid on the covers and at your confused glare, he simply pulled you by the waist all the way to his face.

“Oh my fucking God ! Peter what the fuck are you doing ?” You exclaimed, worried that you’d suffocate him to death. He had super strength but still very much needed to breath.

You seemed reticent but did not move, keeping yourself above his face rather than sitting on it like he desired. When he tried to pull you all the way down, you glared at him, pushing his hands away from your body. Deciding against the rational part of him that refused to manhandle you, he let the primal need in him to have your sweet juices pooling all over his lips take over.

Grabbing your wrists forcefully in one hand, he wrapped his arm tight around your waist, forcing you to move at his will.

“Listen to me and listen to me well bunny.” He ordered, looking both controlled and wrecked. “I’ve spent the entire fucking day feeling everything you felt times fucking ten and not even you could calm me down. The only fucking thing I want right now is that sweet pussy of yours all over my mouth so either you sit on my fucking face or you run away as fast and far as you can before I actually start considering doing all the most disgusting and unsanitary things I have in mind.” He threatened, eyes big and dark, showing the absolute lack of restraint behind them.

You stared at him, completely in awe at the bluntness of his words. Peter gad always been pretty honest about the things he wanted to do to you, never ashamed to tell you how hard you made him on a regular. But here, he looked too fucking tired to even speak it, wanting to act rather than explain himself. This Peter would clearly do all the dirty things you wanted him to do more, the things he’d rarely try, too scared of hurting you.

He looked at you, unmoving but still holding you with a firm grip. He wasn’t going to move until you gave him an answer, or at least he thought he wouldn’t until you arched your back and tried to bite back a moan. Oh yeah, he was way past thinking clearly or asking for permission now. Now when your pussy was calling out for him.

In a few swift movements, you ended up fully sat on his handsome face, quickly losing the fear of crushing him when his wet tongue slithered between your folds. You threw your head back and arched your back once more, this time fully screaming your pleasure in the comfort of his room. Your hand grabbed pieces of his hand, pulling on it at each flick of his tongue. You could only shake over him, feeling jolts of electricity run through you when his breath hit your clit.

“Oooh ! P-Peter, fuck ! A-Aaahh… F-Fuck me !” You wailed, wiggling on him and quickly regretting it when it only made his tongue move deeper inside you.

You’d never expect for his breathing to do this kinds of things to you but here you were, moaning his name louder and louder, chanting it like a prayer even. His firm grip on your thighs made it all too much for you feeling the pad of his fingers burn through your skin. You would feel his hands for days, that was for sure. Even more when you knew he wasn’t anywhere near ready to let you go.

~

As the minutes passed, they quickly turned into hours. Hours sitting on your boyfriends face, fucking yourself on his tongue.

He’d kept his abuse constant, needing a little more each time you came. He was hungry for more, turning into a very distant version of himself, one that couldn’t control himself and his urges. His five senses were all pointing towards you, focused entirely on you and the pleasure he was giving and receiving from you. Feeling your full thighs around his face, tightening a little more each time he let his tongue wander towards your clit, he couldn’t keep himself from getting greedy. He tried to think but his mind was blank, only knowing your name and the different ways he could use to please you.

“F-Fuck ! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck ! Oh, fucking God, Peter !” You moaned, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood.

His face was red and had been red for a while now but it was also glistening under the lights of the room. He was messy and needy, letting your juices coat as much space as possible on his face. You scent was overwhelming, burying all there was around under you and your aroma. He was going to remember how you smelled for days, maybe weeks and if he was lucky, it would last for even a few months. He’d have in engraved in his brain if he could, he was already contemplating not showering to keep your sweet scent on him for as long as possible.

You were now completely bare, your naked body rubbing riding his mouth at the best of the capacities you had left. You were exhausted and your thighs had given up on supporting you a while ago. Trembling and tender, each time you tried to pull away to let him breath a little at least, he’d responded with a deep grunt and bit your inner thighs as a warning that you listen to diligently. You weren’t going to risk cumming from it once more, the first time violent enough for your clit to throb at the memories only.

One if your thighs had been free from his iron grip on it but your skin was left shaped like his hand for a few seconds before returning back to it’s normal state. When he looked up at you and saw your swaying breasts, he needed to see more. He ripped your blouse open and took it off your body before tossing it somewhere. He was about to do the same to your bra but you stopped him to take it off yourself, remembering how he’d ripped your panties and skirt off of you. Poor clothes, you liked them. They would be missed.

When your exposed tits came in view, he freed one of your legs to wrap his slander fingers around your soft and warm flesh. He palmed it vigorously, eyes still trained on you and watching each of your reactions attentively. You were crying his name in pleasure, grabbing his wrist when his thumb started twirling around the pointing bud. He couldn’t help but need more. He’d never been this greedy before and each record he would hit would be topped a few minutes later.

He sucked and swallowed your slick, feeling it run down his throat and allowing him to fill his stomach with you and you only. You were the only meal he needed, the only one he wanted. He was reminded of that fact a little more each time you came hard on his face, the beautiful memory of you squirting just as destructive for him.

“P-Pete ! Baby, p-please… Please just… J-Just aaah ! Ah, fuck, oh fuck ! Oh, God, please ! Please ! P-Peter, peter ! Oh fuck, Peter !”

He smiled under you, his name never sounded better, never sounded sweeter. He was groaning and grunting into your wet mound, letting your folds quiver on his mouth, his tongue still gathering your juices with enthusiasm. He was only made to pleasure you at the moment, completely disregarding his aching cock. He couldn’t even feel it at this point. He was still throbbing violently and he was redder than before. The veins around him were pulsating more than even, strings of cum leaking out if his tip.

He wasn’t touching himself and you couldn’t touch him either but he was still cumming as much as his body could, white creamy ropes coating his chest and your lower back to drip over your ass. He could see it in the mirror in front of the bed. He had stopped counting the amount of times you came or the amount of time he did. He simply let it happen, moaning desperately in your cunt each time. His body had started to act on its own, sensitive and searching for more raw pleasure to feast on.

Tears of overstimulation were pooling out of your eyes, silently crying as he moved your hips on his own to ride his face, your eyes crossed and rolled to the back of your head. You were being tortured, his soft lips, wrapping around your clit and sucking onto it again as he felt you violently shake, sign of another orgasm coming fast.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god, o-oh fuck ! Oh, no, please, please, please, please ! P-Please I can’t take it !” You begged loudly, you wouldn’t be able to take another orgasm. You knew you wouldn’t, your poor body wouldn’t be able to take it.

You were crying out for it to not happen but your body was moving in the other direction, hips jerking and thrusting yourself on his tongue. You couldn’t take more but he wasn’t asking for permission anymore, he needed it, craved it desperately. Your cum all over his face, he would get it. And he did. You bounced on his tongue, letting it twirl inside your walls and suddenly be covered by a waterfall of your wetness.

“A-Ah ! Fu- Oh god, fuck ! A-Ahn Peter ! Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter !” You sung, loud enough for anyone who paid attention to hear.

He did, he paid attention and his cock couldn’t take more of this, you broken voice crying out his name in both pleasure and sensual agony. You came hard and fast, and so did he, hot cum shooting out oh his sensitive head and falling on your back. The vision of your back covered in him did something to his brain, he had a new interest, finally.

Your body fell limp in his arms, head bobbing around as if you were unconscious and you couldn’t support yourself anymore, you were fully broken now. Poor bunny, he wasn’t done with you. He needed more, but the little voice in him that could still think things through promised to take good care of you for the next days. That was if he was finally calmed down and if you allowed him to touch you.

You leaned back, supporting yourself on his chest and slowly cried at how wrecked you were. You’d made fun of him internally earlier and now you were probably worse than him. You whimpered softly when his groans his your sensitive center. When his hands grabbed your waist, you were scared that he wasn’t done eating you out, you couldn’t take more honestly. You weren’t even sure that you wanted him to fuck you now. Maybe, you didn’t know. Your brain was too scrambled to think about it.

Suddenly laid on your back, your boyfriend wrapped your arms around his neck as he kissed your forehead, cheeks and nose. His lips lingered on you and brought a wave of warmth all through your body. You felt comfort again, peace and quiet.

Kissing the side of your face, his current mission was simply to call you down a little before stuffing himself deep inside you. He was still too out of it to function properly, his body still running purely on instinct. He simply did what his oversensitive senses told him. They told him you needed to be calmed a little, and that’s exactly what he would do.

He was fast to feel a wave of need take over in his mind. Brought at a crossroads, he had the choice between ruining your sweet cunt again and probably be banned from touching you in the future, or lock himself in the bathroom and try and call his aching member while you slept. Rational Peter would’ve chosen A while also considering B, because he was a considerate boyfriend. Now, Irrational Peter was an animal clearly, incapable of pushing his urges away and thinking things through. He was choosing A without a second thought. He’d make it up to you however you desired.

His lips wandered lower, finding your breasts and taking one of your nipples between his teeth while your other breast was vigorously squeezed by his other hand. Drunk on the feeling of your warm flesh in his mouth, he sucked long and hard, his tongue rolling around the sensitive bud before letting go in a wet sound and turning towards the other. This time, he only used his mouth, ha ds wandering lower to palm the flesh of your ass and thighs. He was close to cumming again, just from the things he was doing to you and he wanted to make sure that make you cum with him.

Standing straight, he grabbed the back of your thighs and rubbed his erected girth on your swollen clit. Your cries of pleasure erupted again, only fulling his thirst for whatever you had to give. Yeah, we already established that he was greedy.

“P-Peter please… N-No… No more edging… Please baby, I-I… I promise I’ll be good... Please... No more ! Please, d-don’t tease me no more !” You sobbed softly, clawing at his lower stomach, to pull him forward but also push him backwards.

Looking down at his own cock, he watched it drip droplets of cum on your folds, he was hypnotized by the vision. He backed up slowly, still holding your thighs apart and positioned himself at your entrance. You whined and squirmed beneath him, trying to get him inside as soon as possible. He chuckled lightly at your eagerness before thrusting deep inside you in one rough move.

He let out a groan, mouth falling open and eyes crossing as they rolled to the back of his head. He was feeling everything all at once, close to cumming only from this. He tried to get his thoughts together but he couldn’t, it was so hard, you felt so good. So, so, so good. He was keeping tears of pleasure to himself, cock so sensitive, he felt like it would explode. He lowered his face and his eyes juggled between your face and your pussy, swallowing him whole and ripping away all he had. Yeah, take it all, take everything from him.

Backing up, he repeated the motion, stretching your insides and engraving the feeling of his pulsating veins on your warm velvety walls. His pace only got quicker from there, the sounds of your cries of pleasure only matched by the sound of his skin slapping against the back of your thighs. The sensation was burning your sensitive body, still tender from the grip he’d kept on your flesh only minutes ago.

Your vision was unfocused, eyes going everywhere frantically, searching for something to focus on, to keep you steady. You couldn’t look at him, not now, not when you were so weak to his every move. Everything he did to you was piling up, all the emotions and sensations crumbling on you all at once. You could barely process one that the next was erupting inside you. You knew that if you looked at him, his expression would only make it worst.

You always loved how he looked when he was fucking you but it was ten times more arousing for you when he was overwhelmed, which was practically all the time. He’d always groan your name louder and louder, big brown eyes drowning you both in a pool of lust. You couldn’t even deal with the memory of his face.

“F-Fuck… You feel this bunny ? My fat cock… It’s spreading you so wide… Bet you can feel it all the way in your tummy…” He groaned, leaning forward and pecking your puckered lips.

You were always needy for his kisses and he was always glad to give you as many as you wanted. He was yours to play with, and you always did so much for him, he would never refuse you anything, out of gratitude, boundless loyalty and love. He chuckled at the thoughts he was having. He could still find it in him to be a sap, even when his brain could barely process daily words or actions at the moment. Love would do that to you.

His body got closer to you, lowering himself on you and plowing deeper and harder in your tight heat, living for the various ways you’d scream his name.

“P-Peter ! Oh, oh my… Oh fuck, more ! Peter, more please more baby ! More ! Peter please !” You sobbed into his ear when he nestled his head in the crook of your neck to bite your collarbones hard enough to leave a mark.

He was close, dangerously close. He was actually surprised he managed to hold out for that long, and just as surprised that you did the same. Working himself inside you, he started sucking on your skin and biting it all over, one of his hands letting go of your thigh and placing itself on your stomach to press your belly. He could feel the tip lf his cock violently poking through.

Pushing your legs on your chest, the change of angle gave him access to the perfect spot inside you, the one that would have the neighbors complaining despite the diy soundproof padding of his apartment. He would probably need to invest on a new bedframe too, the one he owned currently, threatening to split in too as his rough hip thrust made the bed shake and slam on the wall. Lucky him, he was holding you, if he’d been holding the head if the bed, he would’ve ripped it apart himself.

“Oh god, oh, god, oh Peter, God ! Please, I’m s-so, so fucking close oh please !” You begged, tears spilling all over your flushed cheeks.

“F-Fuck… Bunny, please, give it to me… Come on bunny, one more… Just one more…”

Your high came surprisingly fast, surprising the both of you and raining over you in a sweet shower of pleasure. You arched your back, biting one of the most obscene noises you’ve ever made. You gripped on the bedsheets, ripping them apart too in the process. You’d barely processed your own orgasm that the man above you followed quickly after, filling you up with him cum, warm and thick, coating your walls and invading your entire being.

You whimpered, breathing with difficulty and trying to gather yourself. You couldn’t, not when he was still holding you and still going. You looked at him as if he’d grown a new set of arms and three heads. He attempted leaned down, kissing the side lf your jaw and chuckling in your ear when you whined in displeasure.

“Sorry baby… I’ll take good care of you, I promise…”

“I… I hate you…” You sobbed silently. Yeah, you should probably cancel your plans for the rest of the weekend.

~

Many hours later, you didn’t understand how you were still standing, or in this case, kneeling. Holding yourself on all fours, your body was rocking back and forth, at the rhythm of his thrust inside you. You could do it anymore, you couldn’t take more, nothing in this world could take this much, human or not. This man was insane, this was evident now.

You would need to make a run to the pharmacy for the morning after pill. Your birth control could definitely not take the amount of cum he’d fucked in you, and you loved him but neither of you were ready for a baby, even if you enjoyed the thought of having one and the process too.

The sheets were ruined, cum and drool all over them, adding to the many holes you both tore in the fabric. No washing could save them either, he’d get new ones and hopefully they would get treated better.

Peter was probably just as wrecked as you but clearly not exhausted in the slightest and definitely not bothered by the state if his body. His skin was covered in various marks that could’ve been given by some kind of enemy he fought in his red and blue costume. You’d given him these marks, biting on the skin of his collarbones, his jaw, his ear, his shoulders and honestly anywhere you could reach. He’d let you mark him however you pleased, a small price to pay for what he did to you. Even the bloody lacerations on his back were definitely worth it to him.

He felt a little guilty but never enough to stop, not when you sounded so good moaning his name. Nothing could get him down that high he’d been stuck in the entire day. He tried to calm himself down at times but nothing would be enough, nothing would quench his thirst for you and your body.

Gripping on your hip and slamming his cock deep in you, your ass bouncing on his lower stomach, he could feel himself cumming once more. He watched you reach forward, as if trying to run away, you’d done it a few times already and he pulled you back by the ankles each time. Your face fell, burying itself in what was left of the sheets and bite into them hard, saliva soaking them a little more when your mouth fell open and a scream hit the mattress.

“Good… Good girl, just one left… Only one left and I'm letting you rest baby…” He groaned, leaning over your back and kissing your nape tenderly.

“Aaaahhh… N-No… C-Can’t… N-Not anymore…” You muttered, voice broken and incapable of thinking about coherent words to moan.

His balls slapped against your folds, the sound of your wetness and his cum vibrating in his sensitive eardrums. He could still hear and feel it all, his senses pushed to the maximum of their capacities and suddenly going completely silent. He reached forward too, fingers grazing the soft skin of your arm to intertwine with yours and hold your hand tightly. His free hand wrapped around your middle, pulling you towards him. You soon both came, just as hard as you’d previously did, both your juices spilling out of your sensitive hole.

Your moans and his grunts quickly turned into loud sounds of breathing, your heavy breathing resonating in the room. He leaned his head on the back of yours, feeling a sense of calm and peace he’d craved for a long while. He was finally feeling better, all calm and not as overwhelmed as he had been previously.

A suddenly ray of light caught both your attention, your heads snapping towards the window. Your eyes widened as you saw the sun rise and peak through the window. You had fucked the whole night. The entire night, you had been turned over and over, your body stripped bare and abused non stop. The whole night. You sobbed in desperation and disappointment too. You didn’t really know why you were disappointed but you were, probably at the lack of self control. You boyfriend, on the other hand, was keeping in a laugh he knew would get him in trouble.

“I’m sorry… So sorry bunny… I’m so, so, so sorry… I promise, I’m sorry…” He muttered, kissing your neck tenderly.

You knew he only meant it partially, never truly sorry for the things he did to you. He loved how wrecked he made you and loved how dumb you got for him, he would get just as stupid for you. In thus situation, he’d been stupid horny from the beginning.

You both fell to the side, facing the window and the rising new day. You were starting to feel the exhaustion fall over you all at once and so was he. He yawned and you did the same, nuzzling your face in the pillows. His hand rested on your stomach, caressing it slowly and trying to massage your aching parts. He pecked your cheek tenderly, smiling to himself at how great of a girlfriend you were. Finally, he was calm again, after practically breaking your body, he was okay.

You would probably put him on a sex ban for the foreseeable future and it would be deserved. Now he understood why you were the one calming him down when overwhelmed by the world : you were the one with the common sense. When the spider parts became too much to handle, you’d handle it for him.

“Pete ?” You called out after a few minutes of silence.

“Hum ?”

“You feelin’ better ?” You asked softly, still looking out for him by being as quiet as possible.

He exhaled in your neck, feeling his heart thump in his chest. He was so in love for you, he could barely think. You were genuinely the best, still carrying about his wellbeing when you were hanging on the last ropes on consciousness. He raised himself slightly to bed himself forward and kiss your lips.

“I’m fine bunny… I might just need to do a few researches in my dad’s stuff, we wouldn’t want this whole thing to happen again, would we ?” He chuckled lightly, voice deep and resonating.

“No thank you. I’ll take the running away option next time.” You responded, side eyeing him. You loved him but absolutely not, never again (or probably at least once, it wasn’t that bad).

For the rest of the day, you caught up on sleep, still attached together and when he woke up, he found his father’s researches, discovering the cases of heats that spiders would go through, specifically the kind that bit him. Turns out, when location a pray to mate with, they get overwhelmed by a the sensations felt by the other, feeding of this connection to know exactly what to do. His already sensitive senses turned towards you only and seeking to please you.

Good to know, at least he knew that next time, he should read the entirety of his father’s researches instead lf skimming through them. Luckily, Peter was a fast learner. And he had the heightened senses to help.

[forourmoons]

okay tasm!peter parker thought!!! he’s obsessed with touching your face. like, when you’re talking about something he’ll just randomly grab your face and smoosh your cheeks. he’ll boop or kiss your nose at random times. most importantly, when he’s kissing you he’ll be holding your face, his big hands on your cheeks guiding your head so he can kiss you better. omg

doughnuts

summary you're really excited about doughnuts. peter really wants to kiss you.

content tasm!peterparker x fem!afab!reader

note this is my first time writing for tasm!peter please forgive me if it sucks.

For the first time in a while, you come home after work with enough excitement to light up the entire flat.

Peter's sitting up in his bed reading when you find him. All things soft with rumpled hair, his clothes even worse, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. You're not sure if he really needs them anymore, but he likes to wear them to keep an ounce of normalcy.

"Hi," you chirp when he notices you. He dog-ears his book and puts it down almost immediately. You beam.

"Hi, baby," he seems just as happy to see you as you do him. Though, there's a buzz to you that Pete lacks. You think if you got home twenty minutes later he would've been napping.

You move across his room while pushing your work skirt down your legs. Peter's heart skips when it looks like you might trip and he tries to keep his eyes off your soft thighs. You rifle through his draws to find one of his shirts to wear, unbuttoning your own blouse in the process.

"How was your day?" you ask, holding up a shirt to your nose. You choose it because it smells more like your boyfriend than the others.

Peter crumples his face, trying not to laugh. "It was good. Didn't do much - you?"

You say something while pulling the shirt over your face that Pete can't discern. You all but jump into his lap when you reach him. Hooking your thighs over his lap until you're face to face.

He allows you to get comfy, pushing your knees into his side while he sits up, hands finding their place on your hips. "Hello," he says again, much quieter now that you're in his space. You look adorable in his shirt and your work tights.

"Did you hear me?" you ask, basically pulsing with giddy energy. You push your fingers under the hem of his shirt and he short-circuits for a moment.

He blinks. "You had your face in your shirt."

"Right," you giggle, a girlish sound that Peter wants seared in his brain, "I said, you know the food truck around the block?"

"You'll have to be more specific," he says, squeezing at your hips.

"The one that shut down."

"Oh, right. The Jam Van," he laughs knowingly. You'd moped for almost a month when they closed. You were inconsolable.

"Yeah," you grin, poking his chest, "yeah, they reopened!"

You're smiling so hard Peter worries that you'll get stuck like that. With your eyebrows raised and your cheeks appled. He thinks he needs to hold your face like right now.

He lets his hands leave your hips and raises them to hold your cheeks. Your skin is warm under his touch like he expected. "That's great, baby."

You ignore his hands. "Right? It's amazing."

Peter pushes your cheeks together until your lips pout outwards. He thinks you look extremely cute. Even worse when you try to frown and it just looks like a smooshed mess. He wants to laugh but you look peeved.

"Pete," you try to say. It comes out all mumbled.

"Yeah?" he says, distracted by your puffy face.

You pull your face from his hands and struggle a bit. Holding his arms to his chest you say, "Are you even listening to me?"

"The Jam Van," he says nodding. Smarmy.

"Right," you say, still mildly upset, "they're open right now if you wanna..."

"You wanna go get doughnuts?" he asks with his arms still pinned to his body. His hands wriggle to touch you.

"Can we?" you ask, eyes wide with hope. Peter wishes he had his camera with him.

"Can I kiss you first?" he grins boyishly. You wish you had a better resolve. He's awfully pretty and you really want doughnuts.

You let his arms go, huffing like kissing him is a difficult task. "If you really want." You have to hold back a laugh.

He reaches his hands back up to your cheeks and gives them another squeeze, "Of course, I want to."

You let him guide your face down to meet his lips, huffing into his mouth once they meet. You go lax in his lap when he presses firmer, spreading his fingers over your warming cheeks. He tilts your face upwards so he has better access to slip his tongue in your mouth. You whine when he has you exactly where he wants. Putty in his hold, holding you close by your soft cheeks.

You pull away from his lips, blinking away the dizziness. "Pete," you say panting.

Peter licks his lips, "Yeah?"

You push your face into his neck to hide the way he so obviously makes you feel, holding onto his sleep shirt for dear life. You try to even out your breathing and fail.

"You okay, love?" he asks. There's a hint of smartassery you don't miss. He's awful.

"Yeah," you say a tad breathlessly. "Yeah."

He kisses your shoulder and you shudder. His ego swells tenfold. "You sure?"

You take a moment to compose yourself, hating yourself for being so pliable. You sit back to look him in the eye. "So," you say with a confidence you lack, "Jam Van?"

Peter laughs and catches your face again. You like it much more than the first time. "That felt like coercion ."

"You asked to kiss me!" you say bewildered, pushing at his chest with not enough force than you feel is deserved.

"You tricked me," he laughs with you, letting you paw at his chest. It's quite adorable, really.

"Whatever," you say with more heat than you mean, a smile tugging at your red lips. You untangle yourself from his lap and stand to walk away. "I'll get my own jam doughnuts."

Peter smacks your ass before you can get away and you gasp. "Peter Parker!"

"You can't go out like that."

"I'll do what I like!" you call from the other end of the hallway.

Peter chases you around the flat until he gets you in his arms. The doughnuts wait for a few more hours.