#tobey maguire smut

[imkindaschizoidontknow]

Stress reliever

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Summary: Peter Parker needs to relieve some stress 🤷‍♀️ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

W!: harsh language, oral (fem receiving), mature content, MINORS DNI

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Peter storms into her room after school.

“Can I eat you out?” He asks, he looks frustrated and tired, the way he asked that question was hastily, almost like he’d been waiting to ask that question since the moment he woke up. 

“Huh?” She questions, she’s taken aback by his words, especially since he was acting completely normal today in school, what had gotten into him?

“Can I eat you out? Please?” He repeats, he looks at her expectantly and she laughs. “Well I’m not gonna turn down that offer” she chuckles and he throws his bag down on the floor of her room, quickly kicking the door shut as he slides off his shoes. “What’s gotten into you? Why do you wanna, well, you know” she questions. He’s never like this, he normally eats her out before sex. It’s never like this.

“I need to relieve some stress” he slips off his hoodie and throws it on the floor before laying next to her on her bed and placing a kiss to her lips. She smiles into the kiss, her heart racing. He fondles with her breast and her hand finds its way into his hair, tangling itself in the silky brown mess.

His hand moves from her chest and trails its way down to her lower stomach pressing lightly. She gasps as she feels his hand on her heat. “Fuck,” she gasps out and pulls away from the kiss. He sits up and crawls in between her legs pulling off her shorts and pressing his thumb against her clothed clit. She gasps and squeezes her eyes shut. He looks at her as he slides her underwear off. She can’t help but smile and bite her lip as she sees her boyfriend between her legs. She props her legs up on her feet to give him an easier access to her pussy. He snakes his arms under her legs, resting his large hands on her waist before he buries his head in her pussy, licking and sucking her clit, tasting her juices. 

“Fuck!” She covers her mouth with her hands and her hands snake their way into his hair, pushing down on his head lightly. He emerges from her pussy, lightly rubbing her clit with his thumb. “Can you believe Mr. Harrington sent me to the principals office for showing up to his class late?” He says as he rubs her clit gently. “Ah~”

“Even though this was like, my first time showing up to his class late in, what, two fucking months! He’s so fucking selfish-“ he begins to rub her faster “F-fuck! Ah,” “And not only that, we had to have an emergency Decathlon meeting because Abe forgot to send in our paperwork to qualify for the tournament this year!” He slows down rubbing her clit, but he moves his hand down to her hole, “Ah, oh, gosh!” “So now, fucking Cindy and I have to redo all of the goddamn paperwork!” He pushes a finger inside of her “Oh fuck,” “Abe’s a cunt, I hope he dies. He could’ve just told somebody else to do it” “mm~ mmhm” “Like, if you know you have fucking badminton practice the same time you received the email to do the paperwork, then you could’ve just told Harrington that you had badminton! Can you believe that!?” “Mm~ y-yeah baby, unbelievable,” he begins to quicken the pace of his finger inside of her, and she gasps, “Oh! Gosh! Peter!” “Decathlon has me so tired, M’sorry that I don’t hang out with you much anymore because of it,” “N-No, it’s, ah, it’s f-fine” he sticks another finger inside of her, “Oh! And also, and especially this, is what ruined my day even more! I was in line for lunch and I decided to buy a jell-O, because I don’t usually have enough money to buy it, but they raised the price by 3 goddamn dollars!” “Ah! Fuck,” “I know, right! I wanted to cry, I just wanted some fucking jell-O,” “oh gosh! Peter,”

He quickens the pace of the fingers inside of her and buries his head in his pussy, his tongue circling around her clit, “and the lunch lady told me that I was short, but she basically yelled it out for everyone and their mom the hear!” “Fuck! Peter!” “Oh, sorry” he licks her clit quickly as he fingers her pussy. “Oh! Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum!” “Cum for me baby,” he says as he slurps up all of her juices, and he quickens the pace of his fingers inside of her, “Oh! Ah, I’m, I’m cumming!” Her back arches off the bed as he cums, hot liquid oozing out of her and onto his fingers “good girl,” he praises her as he takes slows down the pace of his fingers and stops licking her.

“You’re so pretty when you cum,” he praises her as he watches her chest rise and fall, she asks “fuck, how stressed were you?” And he laughs, “did I make you cum that hard?” “Yes! I can’t feel my legs!” 

“Aw, I’m sorry, honey, I’ll make it up to you” he slips his finger out of her pussy and sucks on them slowly and seductively, as he stares at her, “You’re such a slut!” She says and he laughs, “I can’t help it, you taste so sweet”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I am SO sorry for that ending 😭 I could’ve done that better but hopefully you enjoyed the rest of it

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[curvykittyyssmutfics]

could you write about peter parker (t.m) brings his gf, reader for a study date but instead they fuck on his bed while aunt may is at work or something! please! doggy style, blowjob, boob job, missionary, daddy kink

The Study Date

A/N: This was meant for Tobey's spiderman but feel free to use your imagination!

Warning: Oral- facefucking(male receiving); Hair pulling; Creampie

Light from the sun streams in from the open window highlighting the books and note cards scattered across Peter's messy bedroom floor. There's not a cloud in the sky, and I can hear boisterous laughter from people walking by on the street; everyone sounding free and upbeat made me beyond jealous! Its absolutely unbelievable that on this beautiful breezy bright day my wonderfully amazing boyfriend convinced me to study for our upcoming exams. Hell, even Aunt May had plans to be home late as she and Happy had a date after her shift.

We both knew I'd rather be doing anything else. Better yet, I know WHO I'd rather be doing. Glancing up at a frowning Peter sitting criss-cross with his back against his bed, I watch him scribbling quickly on a notepad. Another pencil clenched between his teeth, he pauses his note taking to read the book in his lap. I can't help but admire the firm set in his jaw contrasting against that adorable baby face. Peter's short messy brown locks dust his forehead as his brows crease. God, his pretty ocean blue eyes never fail to pull me in. Fuck... His sexy ass in only a pair of light gray sweats was leaving nothing to the imagination. My baby's lean but chiseled chest rises slowly with each breath as I stare unabashedly.

I lay prone in front of him a few feet away, legs up behind me and crossed at the ankles, thoroughly enjoying the view. Normally I wait for Peter to initiate anything sexual but it always ends before he can fuck me. Rather it be May interrupting or his Spiderman duties calling, we haven't had a chance to do more than a bit of steamy dry humping. But today, as the drippin in my panties turns to a leak just from lookin at him, Peter's def in for somethin new.

He's concentrating so hard that I'm sure he doesn't notices the aggressive and very thorough eye fuck I'm giving him. He can't possibly be this damn clueless! Opening my mouth to speak Peter surprises me, looking up from his book, beating me to the punch.

"If you're done eye raping me, can you hand me the whiteout?" He teases, his knowing smirk almost making me embarrassed. ALMOST. Lord only knows I'm way to damn wet right now for the shy act.

Without replying I get on all fours and slowly, sensually, crawl to my Spiderman. He immediately sets down everything, spreads his legs and pulls me into his lap. I slip my shirt off quickly, leaving me in nothing but my soft shorts. My lips are desperate for his so I kiss him lustfully, deepening it as I grind ontop of him. My dark blue and red cotton shorts hardly get in the way as Peter starts to swell against me. My wetness seeps out of my empty clenching core, soaking my bottoms and his sweats.

"Peeeete, take off your pants. I wanna play. Lemme suck it." I moan into his mouth.

"Sweetheart-" Peter starts in protest but I quickly cut him off with another soft wet kiss. If he wants to play hard to get then so be it.

I lick into his mouth, before sucking the tip of his tongue between my lips. My fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, lightly tugging as Peter's hips cant upward on each small pull. Short low moans come from his as he breaks our kiss to look down at the small wet patch forming where I drip on top him. Our breathing accelerates as I speed up the grinding on his fully hard dick, moving my lips to speak softly in his ear.

"Please Pete, pleeeease. Lemme suck you. I wanna make you feel good. I want you to cum in my mouth, down my throat. Fuuuck, feel your dick twitch on my tongue." I nip at his ear as I watch his resolve crumbling piece by piece. His head falling back on his mattress as he struggles to submit. I don't know why he's resisting and I don't give a fuck. I'm gettin that dick TODAY.

He might be Spiderman but I'm pretty damn quick my self. I'm off his lap and eye level with his crotch, pulling out that impressive fucking dick and cramming him between my lips before he can pick his head up. I lick and suck around his tip with messy loud slurps as watch him closely; his head dips farther into his bed and his arms hang limp at his sides against the floor. He involuntarily spread his legs wider, giving me ample room to work on his cock.

With eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open wide gasping for breath, Peter immediately loses the will to combat himself on this. When I notice, I smile with a mouth full of dick and, with a little difficulty, slide him deeper into my mouth. My unexpected gagging and salivating has him moaning and groaning so fucking seductively. I've never heard anything more alluring. I want more of those moans. So I slide my mouth up and down his lengthy cock fervidly. The taste of his salty precum explodes across my tongue and I moan around him this time, the vibrations making Peter shudder in return.

The soft sounds he makes increase in volume as I speed up the pace of stuffing my new favorite treat down my throat. His hips start to fuck his dick between my lips as one hands slide into my hair firmly as holds me place. 'Fuuuck, Daddy' repeats like a mantra in my head. That dam spider strength makes it so I can't move a single inch as he pistons in and out of my mouth recklessly. I feel his wet balls slapping my chin as my spit smear cheeks, chin, and naked breasts. All I can do is grip his thigh and focus on breathing through my nose as Peter tries to fuck himself into throat. My gagging doubles but I get no reprieve, not a damn lick of empathy. I couldn't dream of anything better

"Uh, uh, uh, f-fuuuuuck. Uh, AH! So fuckin good, princess. Bout to cu-uuum." His lusty cry makes me slip my shorts to the side and finger my throbbing sensitive little button.

I choke around him, eyes rolled back as I let him use me. 'Yeeees Daddy fuckin explode down my throat, lemme taste.' I think as his strokes turn erratic. One last pull out before Peter pushes his pelvis to my nose and unloads 3 strong gushes outta his twitchin dick to the back of my throat, so I swallow to not choke. He pulls back a bit, hand still firmly hold me, as the next 2 land on my tongue. Pete's gasping and panting, staring at me intently while he let's the rest of his warm cum leak onto my lips as he smears his spasming dick in the mess.

When he's finally done ruining me, he releases me reluctantly. His cock is still hard, glistening with my drool and his cum, balls still drawn up tight against his body. I take my hand outta my shorts and remove them, wiping his cum from my face. His eyes widen when he realizes I was playing with my pussy while he face fucked me.

"Did you like that Pete?" I ask seductively, kicking books out the way and laying on my back perched up on my elbows with spread legs.

"Hell yeah, princess. More than like. You got damn drained me. But now I want a taste of you."

Peter rushes to duck between my legs, trying to dive head first to eat me I assume; but I grab a handful of his soft chocolate colored hair and pull him up my body till his dick taps against my desperate messy soaked little puss.

"Fuck that, you can eat this pussy some other time. You better fuck me right now, Parker." I growl out.

That unsure look crosses Peter's face once more and I decide it's time to take matters into my own hands again. I grab for his dick and hastily stuff him inside. Although just a bit more than the tip crams inside, my back arches and I moan loud and long like a whore. I stare at the ceiling with wide unseeing eyes and an open mouth as I tug a couple more inches of Pete's cock into my wet core. My insides clutch at him frantically as I fuck on his leaky dick about half way.

My fingers rub my throbbing little button in quick fast circles, crying out as Peter stares at me in surprise. His shock obviously prevents him from realizing how close I am to cumming. As his breathing and the buildup in his balls upsurgesfrom watching me fuck myself on him, it's clear to us both that I need no assistance. I know my end is near. The intense pleasurable beating in my pussy makes me gasp for air while humping Petes dick wildly. 1 circle, 2 circles, 3 more circles on my clit and I combust. My head thrashes left to right as my cream gushes Peter endlessly.

"YES DAAAADDY, YES! Fuck me, aaah, fuck meeeee! FuckmefuckmefuckmeDaddy!" My intense orgasm draws every filthy thought from my mind through my open mouth into mindless shrieks. There's no room for embarrassment.

Suddenly the world seems shaken and upside down as I find my self quickly turned on my stomache. Peter forces a hand under me to fiercely finger my clit, burying his meat in me almost to the hilt. My back bowed, orgasm prolonged, I feel dizzy from how insanely intense it all feels as he digs into me repeatedly.

"Noooo, no-no-no-no-no, not yeeeeet.." Pete's words melt in one long endless moan and 4 earth shattering back breaking strokes later, he's gripping at my plump ass cheeks and audaciously fills me up. His cum dribbles from around his dick to mix with mine on the sheets. Neither of us move beyond the occasional shudder. Peter remains lodged inside as we try to catch our breath. Small drizzles of cum leak irregularly from his unhurriedly softening prick when we hear 3 light knocks on the locked bedroom door.

FUCK!!!!! May's home..

[deadduvznap]

hmmmm might be unknown to the new miguel fuckers but he doesnt need to make web fluid, hes an organic web creator in the comics (not sure about the movie tho)

[amourisms]

atta girl.

summary : studying does come without its distractions.

pairing : peter parker ( any ) x fem!reader

warnings : thigh-riding, pwp

wc : 0.5k

a/n : just a small drabble because i’m tired but wanted to write and i’m also obsessed with thigh-riding atm so enjoy <3 ( i also apologise if this is sloppy this literally took me like five minutes and i haven’t proofread )

"c'mon, baby, just a little longer," peter pleaded as you wrapped your arms around his neck and wedged yourself between him and the table so you were straddling him, "i seriously need to get this done". peter and you had been studying for what felt like forever and in the midst of that your mind must've gone fuzzy with a sudden need. your head was rested in the crook of his neck, tired from relentless studying and pleased to be in such a close proximity to him. 

peter continued with his studying although used his non-dominant hand to rub circles on your back as he wrote. his touch made you move closer to him, your back arching into his chest a little more and your lower half following, making you rock a little on his thigh. the movement had bought a sensation to your clit, making you even more desperate for peter. he knew you were getting wetter, he could feel it on his sweatpants and he could fucking smell it. his senses were overloading with you and sending all the blood in his body straight to his cock, though he was still somewhat determined to finish his studies. 

he tried to keep writing and push the thoughts of you into the back of his mind, although it seemed he had absent-mindedly bought his non-dominant hand down to the fold of your hip. he gently began guiding you back and forth on his thigh, messing his sweats though you could still hear the faint taps of his pen against the wood every now and then. he was still writing.

moans and whimpers spilled out of your lips as his grip tightened and you began moving even faster. your mind went blank with the exception of peter as he flexed his thigh in a certain way, bringing you a whole new sensation. "pete.." you began, barely able to think of a comprehensible sentence as your every thought was slurred together. his mouth was right against your ear as he shushed you, making your stomach flutter at the gentle sounds. 

you were getting closer and closer and peter could tell, whether it was because of his spidey-senses or the fact that he just knew your body that well, you didn't know and frankly you didn't care. you began moving slightly faster chasing your high and soaking his sweatpants even more. muted sounds were pouring out of you directly into peter's ear which only made his grip tighten once again. he could break you with his touch and right now, that's all you wanted him to do. 

you threw your head back, fluttering your eyes shut with a slew of his name and curse words as your orgasm travelled through you leaving you in a state of shivers. peter's hand on your hip snaked its way to the nape your neck and bought your head close to his lips, "atta girl", he spoke quietly with the sound of his pen dropping against the table following shortly after.

[spideydreams00]

I’ll fuck you till you understand

SUMMARY: Peter is always the dom in bed, a tease and one day you had enough of the teasing + you had a bad day, what is better than to fuck the spider ling and reverse the roles, taking your frustration out on him

Switch! Peter x Switch! Reader

SMUT

She her pronouns used. (Reader has superpowers, (telekinesis)

WARNINGS: impact play, slight degradation, praise kink, bondage? Edging, overstimulation, dacryphillia

Enjoy 🌙

“Fuck You Peter”

You cried, he was rubbing tight and fast circles on your clit edging you and not letting you have any release, to be clear today wasn’t the best day to be a fucking tease, you had a fucked up day, you felt frustrated, stressed and now you were pissed at Peter, you just wanted to cum but the teasing was far from ending, your sweaty body and your aching cunt begging for release.

“Oh darling… it’ll be the one fucking you, trust me”

Cocky bitch you though.

You were tied up, legs spread wide while Peter was in between them.

“Just fuck me please!” You cried

Fuck, fuck, fuck, so so close to cumming.

“You’ll get it sweetheart… just wait a little longer”

His movements on your clit went faster getting you close to relief the relief you craved so much.

“Im close!” You cried

Then he stopped.

“N-No!” You cried again bucking your hips into his fingers needing the friction

He just chucked and smirked loving to get you all desperate for him

“Oh dove.. so fucking needy” he holds your hips down

“Fuck me!” You cried again

“You’ll have to beg”

“Im begging you to fuck me please!” His cocky and reckless behavior was pissing you right now more than any other day

“What if I want to keep teasing you darling? Huh? Wanna have you on edge”

“Don’t be mean please!.. p-please fuck me now!”

“What if I don’t?”

That made something snap in you, your eyes darkened and if he wasn’t going to give you what you needed, you’ll take it.

You used your powers to break free from the webs making Peter’s eyes widened leaving him froze mouth agape in shock, you’ve never used your powers in bed before.

“I fucking warned you” you growled and flipped him on his back

“Y-Y/n/n?” he said in a small voice.

You ignored his “question” and asked…

“Is this okay?” You growled again.

“Y-Yes” He was shocked and to be honest he was excited about this, not knowing that someone having control of his body could turn him on this much.

“Good” you said simply

You used your powers again to hold his hips down and pin his wrists to the bed, leaving him helpless.

“So much fucking teasing, don’t you think Parker?”

The way you said his name did something to him, never calling him by his last name.

“Answer me!”

“Y-Yes! I’m sorry Y/N- lemme- lemme touch you!”

He was utterly impressed by how easily he turned into a submissive boy in no more than 2 minutes, he was probably more impressed than you.

Again you ignored him

“Safe word?” You asked sitting on his bulge rocking back and fort slowly

“Huh-? Uh- R-Red”

“Alright”

With that your hand wrapped around his throat, you were going to take what you deserve and watching him fall apart in the process was just a bonus.

“Naughty boy… You think you can tease me?” You breathed out enjoying the feeling of the way your pussy was humping his covered cock.

“Im sorry-“ his sentence getting interrupted by his own moans

“I’ll make you feel sorry Peter”

You started to rock back and fort faster and harder making Peter’s head to roll back and close his eyes, pleasure consuming every bone in his body.

“F-Fuck!”

He looked down to where your pussy humped his clothed cock, his boxers now soaked by your arousal, because after all you were dripping.

“y/n/n im close!” He cried, his toes curling and abs contracting.

“You’re close huh? You’re gonna cream in your boxers like the pathetic boy you are?” You were out of breath but seeing him fall apart was a reminder for you to not close your eyes.

“Y-Yeah!” his eyes closed and his mouth fell agape

“Look at me!” You snapped him out of his trance and his glassy eyes struggled to open

“Yes thats it… cum, cum for me” you growled, your nails digging in his chest.

“Im cumming!” He cried. His whole body tensing and trying to buck up his hips, obviously he couldn’t do it, he spilled in his boxers, his cock twitching and desperately chanting your name. The burning feeling of your nails on his chest adding to his pleasure it made him feel dizzy.

He had a beautiful fucked up expression, his body was sweaty and he had a glow all over him, the faint blush creeping all over his body, the tear stained cheeks and his cries were something you’ve never seen on him but hopefully after this you’ll see it more often.

“That’s it, you’re doing so well” you cooed, stroking his hair while he panted

When he came down from his high you were still there comforting him, tracing his features with your fingers with gentle motions, his mouth opened to say something but closed again.

“You good bubs?” You asked leaning towards his face.

“Y-yeah… I feel so good” you giggled at this his eye lids fluttering, his whole persona glowing with the post orgasmic glow. His mind was still hazzy.

He tried to lean in again and capture your lips but you backed leaving him desperate a pout all over his face, only making you chuckle.

“So needy” you said

“F-Fuck y/n i just want a kiss” his puppy eyes almost convincing you to give in, but whatever he wants he has to beg for it.

“Im sure you do”

“D-don’t be mean!” He cried, a small sob coming from his mouth

You kissed him hard to shush him, it was full of passion a messy kiss, his brows furrowed in concentration, he wasn’t used to not use his hands while kissing you, he tried to deepen the kiss and he succeeded for 3 seconds before you pulled away, leaving both of you breathless.

“You’re gonna give me another one” it wasn’t even a question, it was a statement.

“Huh?”

Before he could ask anything else you pulled down his sticky boxers and gripped his cock, making his breath caught in his throat.

“Y-Y/n” he croaked out

“Just one more”

“F-Fuck! I can’t- too sensit-ive”

“It’s okay baby we’ll go slow”

“O-kay”

You gripped his cock with a loose grip, enough to stimulate him and to have him on edge but not enough to make him cum.

“Faster please…” his voice small and weak

“No baby, you’ll take what i give you, do you understand?”

He nodded, completely under your control.

You used your other hand to massage his balls gently providing him more stimulation, his feet thrashing on the bed.

“Uh.. y/n/n im c-close again” he moaned as he closed his eyes

“Not yet honey” he whined, his previous orgasm triggering this one faster

“N-not gonna last long”

“Hold it.”

“B-but-“

“Hold it.”

He closed his eyes tightly trying to survive the sensation as his body tenses, your movements speeded up making him arch his back and his eyes rolled back.

“IM CUMMING!” He cried, he could taste his orgasm, the pleasure cursing through his body and before he could fall over the edge you moved your hand away, pinching his thigh.

“N-No!” He sobbed and cried softly as you giggled

“I-I was s-so close!” His cock twitched, angry and red leaking precum all over his stomach. To be honest you were fucking dripping and your clit begged to be touched, you wanted his swollen cock deep inside your pussy.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll make you feel so good” you whispered in his ear making him shiver

Before his mind could fully register what was happening you hovered over him and positioned yourself on top of his cock.

Your grabbed his cock and he hissed then you slapped his tip on your clit repeatedly making you let out a mewl and it made Peter whine loudly.

“Ready baby?” You asked and he nodded

He nodded and you pushed his tip inside you

He threw his head back in ecstasy, he was so so turned on, the fact that you’re using him like a fuck toy to provide pleasure to yourself, using him like some fancy dildo arouses him like nothing else in the world.

Your eyes rolled back and you let out a loud moan squeezing him so so tight.

“Squeezing me just right!” He moaned

You were too lost in pleasure to hear him, his cock stroking your g-spot and you weren’t even moving yet.

“Gonna fuck that cocky attitude out of you” you whispered.

Peter moaned at your dirty words his toes curled again.

then you started riding him at a merciless peace, so fast, your butt smacking onto his thighs roughly making you cry out in pleasure

“Y/N!” His eyes widened, labored breaths coming out of him, you’ve never went this fast before.

You put you hands again on his chest pinching his nipple making him choke again, it gave you an idea, you wrapped your hand around his throat again while the other pinched his nipple.

“UH! So tight! And WET, AND AND WARM” He sobbed uncontrollably and you cried his name.

“I wanna- fucking slap you so- Fucking. HARD” you said between loud moans and cries, the frustration coming back again, reminding you how pissed you were at him for not letting you have what you wanted at the begging

“D-Do it!”

You didn’t need to be told twice, and your palm collided on his cheek making tears fall out from his eyes.

“YES!” His sobs were arousing you so much.

“IM SO CLOSE Y/N/N-“

Then you slapped him again

And again

And again

And Again

His cheeks were red, eyes puffy from crying, his body was really tense.

Both of you were seeing stars, you were so close, then you started to rub fast circles over your clit.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Peter I’m gonna cum!”

“YES!”

“MOMMY!” He screamed spilling deep inside you, again your peace never stopped.

You were so close, so so close

Then you let go of his wrists and his arms hug you tightly his face on your chest while you keep riding him as fast as you can.

You looked down to see Peter hugging you so tightly his arms around your waist, his eyes are rolled back and his mouth is agape.

Then you feel it, the waves of pleasure crashed over you, you screamed his name and collapsed on top of him, you stroked his hair with shaky hands both of you trying to catch your breath

5 minutes later you heard him sniffle, never letting go of your waist.

“That was the best thing that has ever happened t-to me” he said weakly, too tired from the overwhelming pleasure

“I- I agree” you whispered rubbing circles on his back.

“Was I too rough?” You asked hiding your face on his neck.

“No, it was perfect” he started to kiss your shoulders and you rubbed his cheeks soothingly.

Then you pulled out carefully, he was in awe as he watched his cum spill from your pussy

“Wanna take a bath sweetheart?” You asked kissing all over his face

“Y-yeah” he croaked out and you guys made your way towards the bathroom

“I love you Peter”

“I love you more Y/N”

“Not possible”

“Oh darling, that’s something you can’t win”

“Just accept I love you more Pete”

“No! I love you more”

“Okay” you agreed

“Yay!” He hugged you as both of you starred at your reflex in the mirror, you noticed the red handprints on his cheeks.

“Im so sorry Pete” You said guilty kissing his cheek and rubbing the other with your finger tips

“Hey hey hey, that was literally the sexiest thing ever, I really enjoyed that”

“I know but-“

“Don’t even doubt that I won’t be asking you for more slaps again”

“You kinky spider”

“You freaky little thing” he whispered and pulled you into a kiss.

After taking a quick shower, Peter made dinner and you changed the sheets, and after a good session of aftercare, Peter fell asleep on top of you, you not far behind him.

[takenbyheartstrings]

DANCE LITTLE LIAR.

summary: you and Peter are enemies, but something happens one night. It's the night that everything changed between you and Peter. You're trying to forget what happened. But Peter won't let you run... not anymore.

pairing: enemies to lovers! peter parker x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT (extended warnings under the cut), mentions of blood, mentions of cheating, fluff, mostly angsty?, i probably missed something so sorry if i did :(

word count: 10.1k (2.4k is smut <3)

authors note: hi! sorry for the lack of fics :( writers block has been on my ASS, but i managed to pull this through <3 AND IT'S ANOTHER ENEMIES TO LOVERS FIC, so i hope you enjoy :)

inspired by DANCE LITTLE LIAR by ARCTIC MONKEYS.

extended smut warnings: PROTECTED sex (p in v), fingering, oral (fem), minor praise kink, idk this is pretty vanilla JKSDFKJSDF.

*

Your days had been long and strung out – there was nothing exciting. There was nothing there for you to grasp. There was nothing there for you to take or be excited for. You had no goals, and your life was basically the definition of mediocre. Maybe that’s why you were friends with someone you hated. Maybe that’s why the two of you were in the middle of this constant game of cat and mouse. It was confusing and it was addicting. The two of you flirted and the two of you argued and nobody would ever dare to stand in the way of that. People had just gotten used to it.

There wasn’t a reason for the hate. It sort of just happened. Like you took one look at Peter and decided you were going to hate him for the rest of your life. Never let there be a waking moment where he wouldn’t think about your next quip. Never a moment where he would catch a blink of sleep because he was thinking about something you had said to him. It was hopeless and the two of you were pathetic for it, but that’s the way your relationship had just panned out to be. You were in the place you had wanted to put Peter and Peter was in that place for you.

When your boyfriend cheated on you, he told you in spite that you had deserved it and when his girlfriend had done the same with your boyfriend you told him that it was karma. Somehow the world just keeps taking things away from you and pitting the two of you against each other, but also bringing you closer.

You wouldn’t say you’d trust Peter with anything. But there was a layer there the two of you had yet to unpack. It was vulnerability. You would never let Peter Parker see you fucking cry. You’d never dare to let that happen and if you did it would be over your own dead body. That vulnerability would open you and Peter up to so many things – if you stopped hating Peter you wouldn’t be sure what would get you excited for the day or what would happen to your relationship and it scared you, because as fucked up as it is, he is the one constant in your life that just keeps you going every day. He is the reason you wake up every morning and for all the wrong reasons.

Your breath hitches as the club lights flash around you all. Harry had dragged you to this new nightclub and you were already on your fourth drink, drowning out everything Peter had said to you the night before. You wanted to forget what happened with him and you wanted to move on... but how could you? He’d said something last night that would change everything... but if it had, he wasn’t letting it show.

Your dress was tiny and black. Your boobs were on display, and you were fucking plastered. Your body moving with the music, against another man’s body. You didn’t know who he was but the drunk version of you didn’t give a fuck, because you were dancing and forgetting, forgetting everything that happened.

You turn to face the man and he is a handsome stranger. Brown hair, brown eyes, and a daring smile that your lips are begging to kiss. You don’t know where your friends have gone, and this stranger you’re dancing with is paying you all the attention you need. You sling your arms over his shoulders and your lips intertwine as the two of you continue to kiss, his hands trail down your body and you can feel eyes on you – except for the fact that they’re not the eyes of the man you’re kissing, but from a far. You drunkenly pull away and look around the club, searching for any sign of who was watching you. Maybe you’re imagining things or maybe they knew that you were going to look for them. Whatever the case, it didn’t matter anymore. This man had moved on to someone else.

You pouted your lip and turned toward the bar, stumbling over your own feet ordering another drink and placing it on Harry’s tab. Michelle had found you and pulled you and your drink to the roof. You saw all your friends sitting there around a table and the air hit you, making you sober up a little bit, but the sip of your drink took you right back to where you had started.

You made eye contact with Peter and his jaw was clenched as he watched you sit down. This was a typical move for you – getting plastered like this. He wanted to snap you out of it. You were an annoying fucking drunk, and he was always left to take care of you because everyone was always in the same position as you and the fucking spider-bite had graced him with the ability to not be able to get anywhere near drunk. Not tipsy. Not drunk. Nothing. Sometimes he wished he could be like you. Drink to forget. But he envies the fact that he can’t so he wishes you would just stop.

As all of you sorted out who would be in what car, you were in Peters, Harry was sober enough to take home Mary Jane and MJ was good to take Felicia and Betty back.

How had you always gotten stuck with him? He wasn’t sure. Maybe everyone was still trying to create a friendship between the two of you, even if you both avidly spoke out against it. You didn’t want to be his friend and he didn’t want to be yours, yet they kept pushing the two of you together as if one day that would magically change.

You sigh, brushing your hair out of your face as the window sits open, it’s too hot not to keep it open and the air con in Peter’s car was broken. Something you’d learnt one of the first times you’d been in here. You looked over at Peter and the water bottle he’d stopped at a gas station to buy for you, slowly, but surely you were somewhat sobering up but the window being open helped release some of the tension for you throwing up all over Peter and his car.

You took a sip of water as the song changed. It was a familiar tune, and you didn’t know Peter listened to Arctic Monkeys, assuming it was from his playlist. You went to turn it up, but Peter had beaten you to it. His fingers tapping on the wheel.

You were relaxed. For the first time around Peter, you were actually relaxed. Maybe it was because you were still plastered. Maybe it was the wind. Maybe it was the song. But you didn’t really know. Last night had changed things for the two of you. You didn’t want it to. God, you didn’t want it to be like this. But it was. Right now, it was, and you were seeing the Brightside.

*

You woke up the next day with a pounding headache. One that could absolutely kill you if it tried and it was nothing short of pain. You had thrown up when you got back to your dorm and MJ had held your hair back. Michelle was a good friend, and you were grateful that you were a part of this group of friends. Despite the way Harry pressures all of you to party all the time. You can’t really complain though, it’s not like you’re spending your own money.

You sighed as you looked at MJ’s door. Her and Harry were probably in there. The lot of you were placed into a suite. Suitemates. Which meant you also lived with Peter. It wasn’t your first choice of roommate, but MJ had said it was cheaper for all six of you to live together so you said okay. A good decision? Maybe. But you hated the fact that you had to wake up to Peter in the kitchen every morning making food for everyone. Sure, it was a nice gesture, and maybe that was the problem. That he was always nice. He never had a break. The only person he took all of his shit out seemed to be you.

“Morning Penis Parker.”

“You smell like vomit.” He comments with a grimace.

You roll your eyes, “Thanks for making me remember.”

Peter hands you a plate of pancakes, drowned in maple syrup – just the way you like them, you narrow your eyes, “Is this poisoned?” You question him.

He scoffs, “Right, because I’d make a whole batch of pancakes and waste food just to poison you. Don’t be so conceded.”

You take a bite of your food, “Tastes good, Parker.” You give a sarcastic smiles, “I think the trash would like it even more.”

“Maybe you were right, though, maybe that’s why it tastes funny.” He smirks, “Or maybe you’ve just got fucked up tastebuds because of all the shit you drank last night.”

You scoff, throwing the pancakes into the bin, “I don’t want your food anyway.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

Your eyes meet Peters and as much as you tried to forget the night. You couldn’t. You couldn’t forget that night. The air was shifting between the two of you. This morning’s banter was shit when it was usually full of fire. Your insults weren’t as hard hitting, and it made you gulp. You were nervous and scared and all you ever wanted was to have it back. Before that stupid night. Because it would change everything if you hadn’t known.

BEFORE

You skipped the party. Like an idiot you skipped the party. This would’ve been avoided if you had just gone. Tonight, was a rare night where you had actually not wanted to go out. Stay in and focus on the work right in front of you so you could get to graduating. You picked at your fingernails as you stare at your laptop and it’s blank document. Trying to figure out what to write. You had to write a creative story as an assignment for your course and it was killing you. You were drowned of inspiration and better yet, your head was pounding from a killer headache that just wouldn’t leave you alone.

Maybe you were stressed. Maybe everything was just starting to finally get to you. Maybe it was starting to eat you up and staring into the void of your blank white document in silence wasn’t helping you at all. Sure, the antibiotics hadn’t kicked in, but even so, if they did, you were sure you wouldn’t notice.

Peter hadn’t gone to the party tonight either. He usually goes and leaves halfway through, coming back at the end. He’s usually the one who takes you home. You’re not sure what he does in between the time he leaves and you’re not quite sure you really want to know.

Your fingers began to type, and you had only realised a few seconds in that you were typing random words from slapping your hands over the keys. Writer’s block wasn’t a great look for anyone.

You stood up from your desk and made your way into the kitchen. A glass of water ought to help, you had thought to yourself. Desperately looking for any excuse to procrastinate. But that’s when you heard a thump from Peter’s room and a groan afterwards. Peter hadn’t been here. His door had been open, and you saw he wasn’t in there so why did he come through the window and not the front door, if that even was him. You wanted to assume it was but maybe you were being burgled.

You went over to Peter’s door to see him lying on the floor in red and blue spandex. Your eyes went wide. Either he was doing this for his own pleasure, or he was actually spider-man. You’d hoped it would be the first option but the cuts on his face and the way he was clutching onto his abdomen for dear life was concerning so you rushed by his side. Any thought of hate flying out the window. You were making a mistake. He didn’t see you till now.

Maybe this was all your fault. Maybe the fact that everything changed had been on you. It was on you. Peter looks into your eyes and groans again. But he chooses to ignore the blind hatred the two of you share. Desperately he points to his closet.

“There’s a first aid kit in there, I- fuck!-” He groans in pain as you watch him turn over once more, tears running down his face, “Fuck, there’s gauze and bandages in there.”

You don’t say anything, all you can do is make your way to the closet – your mind isn’t filled with hatred. No. No. No. It’s filled with worry. What would’ve happened if you weren’t here? What would’ve happened to Peter if you weren’t here to patch him up?

“Fuck, Peter, what? What happened?” You ask as you grab the first aid kit from the closet as Peter tries to lift himself onto his bed, his spandex was now off, and he was left in a pair of boxer briefs. You didn’t care right now. You didn’t care that he was basically naked on the bed because there was a gash. A large fucking gash over his stomach.

He throws his head back keeping his hand on his wound. His hand is covered in blood and his suit ruined. He was Spider-Man, and you were using his name. You were saying Peter and neither of you had caught onto it yet but you were desperate to help him. As he groans in pain unable to answer.

“Okay Peter, this website- it says we need to get this wound under running water, because if I use antiseptic, it’ll damage your skin.” You inform him and he shakes his head.

“No. The skin will heal fine.” He says through his teeth, “The spider-bite, it gave me the power to h-heal tomorrow this’ll be gone, but I can’t handle this right now so just patch it up. It hurts, please, y/n.” He begs you, “Please.” There are tears down both of your faces at this point and you nod.

“Okay, this might... it might hurt, okay?” You say through your tears and Peter can only nod at your words.

As you take an alcohol wipe and begin to wash the wound in it, he groans and hisses through his teeth, letting out a groan of pain that keeps your own tears coming and you’re so desperate for him to be okay because you’re not sure what you would do without him. He told you he’d be okay so why were you still worried?

Out of all the things to happen tonight something was stripped from you two. Something you told yourself would never happen between the two of you and you hadn’t realised your mistake yet. You had let Peter see you cry, and he had let you see him cry. There was vulnerability now. One of his biggest secrets was now revealed to you and it was because of  chance. It was all up to chance... and god, were you wrong about him. But you didn’t want to stop hating him either.

Because this night changed everything. As you look at the way his back arched when you pressed the alcohol to his skin and the way his eyes looked into yours, desperate for your help and desperate for you to stop hurting him and although you knew you couldn’t you didn’t want to hurt him anymore. But he was going to hurt with or without you right now and you wanted to ease his pain. You wanted to help him stop hurting for the first time in your life and you were clutching onto the fact that he has to be okay. He needs to be okay.

All you want for him is to be okay.

Taking a bandage out of the first aid kit, you help him sit up as he groans when he does so. You place some gauze onto the wound and wrap the bandage around his waist. He sits back and the two of you are in silence. Your hands are covered in his blood and there’s not much he can say to you right now. There’s not much anyone can say. You were just worried for Peter Parker’s life.

Something you had threatened multiple times. Something you hadn’t really cared about before. You were worried. You were in pain because he was in pain.

Your both still sitting in silence and Peter opens his mouth to say something and you turn to face him, speaking before he can, “Pete.” The name comes out like a whisper – something only his friends would call him, “Are you okay?”

He shakes his head, “Not currently... but I- I will be.” He nods carefully, “I know you probably won’t, but can you not say anything about this to anyone? You and my aunt are now the only people who know about me being Spider-Man. Coming home like this almost every night... well, not every night, I can usually avoid this kinds of wounds but, y’know, tonight clearly wasn’t my night.” He chuckles.

You join him and smile softly, “Of course I won’t... I still- I still don’t like you, by the way.” You feel like you have to say it now because what happens if you don’t clarify it? What happens if you don’t actually hate Peter anymore?

He nods, “Right, yeah, of course.” He looks into your eyes, “What if I don’t want you to hate me anymore?”

It catches you off guard and you freeze, “Please, Peter, don’t be ridiculous.” You scoff.

“C’mon you care about me. You could’ve left me here to fend for myself. You cried. You hoped I would be okay.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t leave you to die, Peter. I’m not a bitch like that, okay. But we hate each other, and I don’t count on that changing anytime soon. That’s just the way we are.” You don’t get up from Peter’s bed, but he moves closer to you.

For the first time tonight, you actually see what’s underneath that suit of his, the way his abs are still defined even if covered by bandage. How his collarbone is as sharp as his jaw. His brown eyes melting into your own.

He’s close enough that his breath hits your lips, “What if I don’t want to be your enemy anymore. We can be friends. We don’t have to live in this constant cycle of anger... of hate.”

You shake your head, “Peter...” You trail off, but you don’t move away and you’re not sure who moved in first, but your lips are pressed to his. You’re careful to avoid the wound that sits in between the two of you but he swipes your lip for entrance, and you allow him to kiss you. You allow him to kiss you.

Then they’re not. You pull away and sigh, “I’m- I’m sorry, Peter. I can’t. I can’t let this happen.” You say softly getting off of his bed and walking away.

NOW

As you look at Peter you can still feel the ghost of his lips on yours. Everything was different now. You found it harder to hate Peter. He was a good person and you had helped him. You were there for him when he needed that. You look around to make sure nobody else is awake.

Your face contorts and it’s venerable. Something the two of you aren’t meant to be and you don’t know why you’re asking because you promised yourself you wouldn’t. But it’s kept you up at night, wondering if he was okay. Even last night when you were trying to forget. Kissing someone else to make yourself forget all about Peter. He was still engraved in your mind. Regardless, you ask anyway. Your eyes are soft and your voice barely above a whisper.

“How’s the wound?” You ask him, placing a hand on his forearm.

He looks down at you, those chocolate brown eyes piercing into yours once more, he nods, lifting his shirt to show you. It’s not fully healed yet. But most of it is gone. There’s a scar there but you know as much as he does that it’ll be gone in the next few hours or the next day.

You’d avoided him till now and you were adamant that you’d only wanted to hate Peter. That you didn’t want anything else. But yet, you still did care and Peter wanted to show you that he did care about you. That this thing the two of you had was far beyond hate.

You don’t know what compels you to do so, but you run your fingers over the scar. It sends a shiver down Peter’s spine. Your touch, it was doing something to him, and this was a weirdly intimate position you’d put the two of you in. But he didn’t care and oddly you didn’t either. Not until you heard the door to MJ’s room begin to open.

Your eyes flashed with anger, and you took your hand off of Peter’s wound and he let his shirt drop over it. His eyes still soft as he watches you. His features in awe of the way you mauver away from him. How you’re able to turn your hate on so easily. Even though it looks like you’ve betrayed yourself. Your eyes are still on him, yet your anger is a façade.

“Fuck off, Parker.” You speak viciously. Your tone is far from nice. It’s like his name is poison. Like his name is something so disgusting it should be banished.

You turn your back to him, taking a moment to collect yourself, but it doesn’t seem to work because as you enter your room slamming the door behind you. All you can even think about is him. The way his lips were on yours. The way his hands had been on your waist when he kissed you so needily. The way the kiss had changed everything about the two of you. It wasn’t helping that he wanted you as much as the next person. He made it evident to you that he wanted to put this all behind you, but you just couldn’t you couldn’t. You can’t.

Maybe moving forward with Peter would be better for you. But you aren’t thinking. Of course, you’re not because any logical person would forgive him. Any logical person would want to move forward... and it’s killing you that you can’t seem to let yourself do exactly that.

“What’s up with her this morning?” Harry asks his best friend as he takes his own plate of pancakes.

Peter shakes his head, “Dunno, man.” He shrugs, “Same shit as always. She’s bein’ a bitch.”

Peter looks over at your door and all he can think of his you. He sighs looking down at his own plate, mulling it over. Harry knows he’s got a lot on his mind – especially about you. Because Peter is so conflicted. He wants you. He wants every part of you and that kiss you shared with him was probably the best kiss he’s ever had in his whole entire life. But there’s also the fact that the two of you have said so much to each other in spite, blind hatred, and anger.

When your boyfriend had cheated on you, Peter wanted nothing more than to wrap an arm around you, pull you close. Be there for you. But as always, you continued your spite for him. You continued to be mean and rude and hate every part of him. You continued to be sick and tired of him. So, he continued too. He told you that you deserved it. He told you that he never loved you.

But when he sees you with someone else’s tongue down your throat after the two of you had kissed the night before, Peter wanted nothing more than for time to go back so he could say something else because as much as that kiss the two of you shared meant everything it also meant absolutely nothing. The two of you weren’t friends. You weren’t the one Peter was allowed to call his. You were nothing but his enemy. The thing you had deemed yourself all those years ago.

*

The next few days were a blur, yet again everyone else was at a party when you stayed back, and you were secretly hoping Peter hadn’t left. MJ was the only one who spoke to you before the group left.

You don’t know why you were hoping Peter would be here when you were too. You didn’t know why you wanted Peter to get hurt maybe? No. No. No. That’s the last thing you wanted. That’s the last thing you wanted. The last. You were shocked at yourself for even thinking that. Maybe you wanted to help him. Maybe that’s what it was. Regardless, you didn’t ever want to see him like that again. That was some of the scariest shit you had ever been through, and you couldn’t imagine what it must’ve been like for Peter.

That’s when you heard the thump. You got up from your desk and made your way to Peter’s room, throwing the door open to see him in his room perfectly fine. Perfectly okay. God, you felt stupid. Yes, he was in his suit. Yes, he had just come back. But you had let yourself into a world of care for a boy you shouldn’t care about. You were angry at yourself for believing Peter couldn’t take better care of himself. Regretting the fact that you had stumbled in on him not too long ago.

“You alright?” He asks you.

“Are you?” You brace yourself for impact, not ready to hear if he’s not okay.

He nods, “Yeah, might have a slight concussion, but I’ll be, yeah, I’ll be fine.” He nods again, you stare at him for another second, “We should probably talk about that night.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

You shake your head, “We don’t. We don’t have to talk about anything, Peter. I told you I still hate you. I don’t like you. We’re not friends. We’re not anything, okay? You and I aren’t meant to be anything.”

He sighs, “Stop avoiding it, things changed, okay? You and I? We’re not the same anymore, y/n. Whether you like it or not, we are not the same.” He runs a hand over his face, “We’ve been like this two times. One the first time I met you and Two the other night?”

“Been like what, Pete?” You question him, “What have we been?”

“Venerable, y/n. We’ve been venerable and as fucked up as it sounds, I trust you more than anyone in this fucking house. Maybe it’s because you know I’m Spider-Man. Maybe it’s because we kissed, maybe it’s because we have been through so much together even though we hate each other and all those times we’ve flirted with each other intertwining it with our anger. I can’t do it anymore. You and I? We’re changing.”

You shake your head, “I don’t want to change, Peter.”

“Why not! Let us change! There’s something here between me and you. We need to grow because we can’t keep hating each other. It’s getting old. It’s getting boring. Stop ignoring this. Stop running away from it.”

You’re in denial because of all of this. Because this isn’t the way you need this to go. This isn’t what you want. Everything is pointing to the signs that he’s right. He’s always fucking right. You shake your head; you think about the first time you met. Maybe that’s the reason you decided to hate him. Maybe it was the beginning of everything. Had you really started all of this? You honestly forgot about it.

BEFORE

Yet again you were sitting in the park crying over your roommate, who seems to have been a bitch this whole time. She lied to your face constantly, much like everyone else in your life. You have yet to find a group of honest people who will give you exactly what you want. Attention. Good attention. Love, and kindness. You have hope that you will one day. You might. Who knows? But it’s not like you can really complain. You put yourself into this situation and now you’re crying in a park like some lowlife.

He walks over to you. He’s got brown hair and brown eyes that lurk over you, and he debates if he should talk to you or not. You want to tell him to leave but instead you come out with fire, “What’re you staring at?” You ask, wiping your eyes of your tears, “Deciding if you should tip me? You think I’m homeless?”

He shakes his head, “No. I didn’t think that but now I’m quite sure that you’re just projecting your issues and you really are homeless.”

You roll your eyes, “Well I’m not... I’m not homeless. I’ve got a dorm... I think.”

“So you’re borderline homeless?” he questions.

“What’s it to you?” You ask him, “Unless you’ve got a place for me to go... and forgive me if I’m wrong, you wouldn’t even want me there because I’m a stranger.”

“You’re not though... a stranger.”

“What do you mean?” You furrow your eyebrows at the boy.

“You’re in my English class.” He sighs, “You sit right in front of me.”

“Right.” You nod slowly, “Because you know my name, then? If we’re not strangers.” You rub your eyes, a couple more tears falling down your face. Probably what’s left of them anyway.

He sighs, “Let me help you.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t need help.”

“Clearly, you do.” He’s getting aggravated now and the way the two of you are looking at each other is something other worldly. You want to kill him for nothing. For suggesting he help you which is exactly what you needed so why are you pushing him away? Why aren’t you letting yourself get help.

You stand your eyes burning because of your tears and you’re denying help that’ll probably be the best thing for you in the next while. What if this is what you need? What if this can reset your life? What do you have to lose? Absolutely, nothing. Nothing at all. You want to keep crying but you also want to move forward.

“What do you get out of helping me then...” You wait for his name.

“Peter Parker.”

“Parker? What do you get?”

“Dunno, good consciousness?”

You laugh, you genuinely laugh. He’s helping someone for the sake of helping someone, it’s not every day you run into someone like this. Not at all. You shake your head; he has to be joking. Maybe your faith in humanity has been lost after all. Because you’re pissing yourself at someone who’s just trying to help you. Your walls are up high. Higher than they ever have been because of your ex-roommate now, especially. This was the first time you’d been cheated on and he did it with her and then they both lied about it. They both led you on. You thought you were making friends. Turns out you were wrong.

But accepting his help reluctantly? It was the best thing you ever did for yourself.

NOW.

To this day Peter still doesn’t know that you’ve been cheated on twice. Just the one. But you didn’t need to tell him. As you looked into his eyes you didn’t need to tell him anything at all. You didn’t owe him that so now why does it feel like you do? He’s unwillingly shared a secret about himself with you all because of circumstance. It’s not everyday things like that just happen. It’s not everyday someone who lives with you is a superhero, vigilante, border lining on both? You are standing across from watching as he pulls off his suit and you have to remind yourself that you’ve seen this before but now it feels different. He’s in a pair of boxer briefs and it’s exactly like summer. Where he would walk around shirtless in a pair of shorts. So why is this different? Why is it fucking different?

You want to run but all you can do is look at Peter. Watch him. You shake your head, pulling yourself away from watching Peter’s body. Pulling yourself away from any thoughts you were beginning to have about changing things. Pulling yourself away... like you always seem to do. It’s funny how things have changed so drastically in the past few weeks. It’s as though you and Peter have been fighting this for a long time, even though it’s nothing such. You thought you hated Peter till you found him half dead in his room.

Peter, though? Peter wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt the day he met you. That’s all he ever wanted to do. But you made that hard for him. You made it so hard because you keep pushing and pushing and pushing him away. From the moment you met him that’s all you did. Constantly and now, Peter was getting tired. It’s not like Peter never hated you, but it’s not like he did. He did dislike you, but he also loved what he hated about you. How stubborn you were. How funny you could be. How nice you were to everyone but him. How you were a genuinely nice person, but he hadn’t been on the reciving end of that. Not at all.

None of your friends knew about this whole situation between you and Peter. MJ had no idea that your feelings for him had been morphing into something else over the past few weeks and you had no intentions of her finding out because all her, Harry, Felicia, Gwen and literally everyone else in your group had wanted. For you and Peter to be friends.

Yet, the two of you were in a constant battle of hate and love and as you can feel that battle beginning to end. That battle getting closer and closer to the finish line. You can’t help but wonder... why are you running?

You shake your head at Peter, “I’m not running, Peter.” You’re lying – you both know this is a poor attempt at lying because you have nothing to run from... not anymore.

Sure, Peter had said things to you. But you had said things back. It was a war and a battle, and those things are going away. There have been less fights over the last few weeks and everyone’s noticed. Yet, nobody has said anything. Your heart is telling you that everything is okay. That’s it’s okay to accept Peter as your friend... or something more.

As fucked up as it is, you might love him. It’s a thing you can’t really explain. A feeling that has been burning in your chest for a while. You don’t know whether you should be upset with yourself for allowing yourself to fall for someone you’d been arguing with for a long time. A person who’s said nasty things to you out of spite and anger and jealously. Because if anything Peter had been jealous and when you saw him with someone else you wanted to be that other person. You had been jealous too. Maybe it field the hatred even more.

Maybe the two of you actually deserved each other. Maybe you should stop running from him. Maybe you need to stop running from him. As he looks at your eyes, he moves closer. He’s stalking closer and closer and closer to you. Towering over to you. You can smell the mint in his breath. He brings his hand up to your chin, bringing your eyes up to his. His breath hot on your face.

“Yeah... you are, y/n.” He sighs, “I don’t care anymore. I need you to know that I can’t hate you anymore. I can’t do it anymore. But if that’s what you want. If that’s what you need, I’ll do it. As long as I get to speak to you as long as I get to be near you.” His eyes are brimming with tears now and so are yours, so desperate for you to know that he’s done with this.

“If that’s what you need... I will continue to hate you. I will never speak to you like this again, but I need you to be sure that you want that. I need you to be sure. I need you to tell me you’re sure you want that.”

You don’t wait for another second before standing on your toes and pressing your lips against Peter’s. They’re soft and plump and you can taste some of the salt from his tears, but he presses against your lips harder. Even though he’s pressing against you, he’s still gentle and careful with you. He’s still treating you like china. The way you needed to be treated. Gentle and loved.

His hands move down to your waist as he moves you towards his bed. Shutting the door behind him. His kisses are softer and there’s more of them. But his lips make their way to your neck, trailing soft kisses down your jaw first, moving lower and lower and lower and you moan gently as they touch your sweet spot, the space at the bottom of your neck and in the dip of your collar bone. Your heartbeat quickens as he brings his lips back up the same path. Probably giving you a hickey somewhere in that vicinity, but you didn’t care because Peter’s lips land back on yours and he pulls away for a moment.

“What do you need tonight, y/n?” He asks you, gently, softly. His eyes full of love and care and everything you’ve ever wanted and needed since the first day you met Peter. Since the first day you met Peter Parker, you’ve hated him and despite all odds he is the one giving you the love and care that you’ve always needed and desperately wanted.

You’re on the brink of tears as you look up at him as he hovers over you and you bite your lip trying to hold them back, “I just... I just want you, Pete. I need all of you, please.” You mutter softly and he smiles, nodding.

“I- yeah, I can do that.” He presses another kiss to your lips as his hands reach for the hem of your shirt, “Can I?” He questions you, requesting your permission.

You nod, “Yeah, you can.” You smile, you try to hide the fact that you’re excited to be doing this with Peter. Because so much has changed in the past few days and it’s killing you, it’s killing you that you didn’t do this sooner because this is everything you want. This is what you want.

You don’t want some stranger. You don’t want some guy from the club that you danced with for five minutes while plastered drunk. You want someone you can trust. You want the boy who stares you down in jealously as you dance with someone else because he wants to be that person with you and now that he is dancing with you in this intimate and hungry way that the two of you both desperately wanted. You couldn’t imagine it any other way. You don’t imagine how you could’ve hated Peter because he’s making you wet to your core and somehow, he’s been on your mind 24/7 since you’ve found out that he was Spider-Man. He’s been a constant thought in your brain because you really do care about Peter Parker and you didn’t believe it then, you couldn’t believe it then. But things were changing well off before that you and you were just too blind to see that.

You are wet. You are so wet for Peter it’s embarrassing. Your core is dripping, and you think if he takes off your panties it might drip down your inner thigh and he’s done absolutely nothing but kiss your neck. He’s not even come close to even touching you.

You sit up a little so he can take off your shirt properly. He discards it onto the floor, and you forgot you weren’t wearing a bra, he stares down at you, his eyes widening before he gives a little smile. His warm hands caressing your waist, sending a shiver down your spine.

“God, you are so beautiful.” He murmurs against your lips, and you smile against them. Why is he the one making you feel this good? Why did you wait so long for this to happen? You’re regretting everything you’ve ever said to Peter. He’s treating you like you’re the only person in the whole entire world. As though you are the person of his dreams... and that’s because you are.

Even when Peter hated you, you were a part of every single thought. The number of times he had thought about smashing his lips against yours to get you to stop talking were astronomical. The number of times he had dreamt about you regardless of what the context of the dream was were other worldly. He had always thought about you. There were things that reminded him of you daily and it was something of these dreams that he was having.

Your hands run down Peter’s body, finally feeling where the gash had once been, scar gone, he was completely healed and as he continued to press his lips against yours, your hands were cold and daring against the warmth and heat of his body. You were addicted to the way his warmth radiated off him. Everything about him was intoxicating to you. How he smelt like cinnamon and wood. Your lips are still on his as his hand cups your breast. Fondling with your nipple as it goes hard. It’s all you’ve ever wanted to feel. Good.

Because most men aren’t good at sex. But Peter hasn’t even started to fuck you and he’s already going to make you cum just by touching your boob. You’re getting drunk on him already.

Sadly, his lips come off of yours, and he trails kisses down your body, in between your boobs, his hand coming off and moving down to your waist, making you shiver once more. His lips end up at the waist band of your tiny shorts.

“Can I?” He questions you and you’re embarrassed. You’ve never been eaten out before. You’re not so sure why he’s focusing all his attention onto you, but you also want to make him feel good.

“Peter, you don’t have to do that. I want you to feel good.”

“But this will make me feel good.” His fingers slide underneath your waist band and you grab his hands.

“Look you don’t, I want you to do whatever will make you feel good and-”

“Have you never been eaten out before?” He questions once he realises how scared you actually are, and you shake your head.

“Let me show you how good you can feel, y/n. Those other boys, they didn’t treat you right. They used you. Let me show you how good both you and I can feel.” He says softly.

You nod and smile, unsure but willing, “Only... only if, you’re sure.”

“I’m very sure... if you need me to stop. If you don’t like it. Tell me.” He says stern, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

You smile and nod, “Okay, I want this, Peter. I want you to feel good.”

Peter pulls your shorts and panties down, his finger running against the slit of your pussy, his eyes flick to the clock beside you, worried that his friends are going to come home and catch you in this compromising decision. He doesn’t care but he knows you do and all he wants is for you to feel okay. Peter decides that you have enough time for this. That you both have enough time for this.

“You’re so wet, baby.” He mutters quietly, pressing a kiss to your slit, getting just a garner of your taste, how you taste so sweet and delicious against his tongue. He could remember this. He wants to remember this. He doesn’t want to live off anything else but you and how sweet you are.

Peter dips his tongue inside of you, your legs spreading slightly and his head in-between your thighs. You watch him as he devours you. His tongue doing laps around your clit. How he’s circling it with his tongue. How he sucks on it lightly and other time a little harder than before. He’s moaning as he tastes you and so are you. Throwing your head back, biting your lip, tiny pants coming out of your mouth making this better than Peter ever thought it could be as he continues to stroke your pussy with his tongue. There are kitten licks and then long and slow strokes that only leave you begging for more. Begging for him so completely, needing him so fully and whole. Your whole body jerking forward as he makes you ever so sensitive against his tongue. You want to scream as your back arches against his face, your hand running into his curls as though there is nothing you need more than this. As though you could never feel this good again. He slides a finger into you without warning and you don’t care at the point because you’re drunk.

Fuck being plastered on vodka shots – this is better. This is what you needed. You’ll remember all of this. You’ll continue to remember this and hopefully get this again so many more times. The squelch of your pussy filling the room is not missed. He’s kissing your pussy, his tongue moving faster and faster and you feel like you’re going to reach your breaking point at any moment. That hot feeling burning the bottom of your stomach and your pussy getting more sensitive as he continues to suck and lick and kiss your pussy. Lapping and drinking all of your juices, fucking feral for you. Devouring you like this is his last meal and all you need to do is cum.

“Fuck, Peter!” You moan softly as your back arches once more, his fingers pushing you against the edge as they press onto your g-spot, pushing deeper and deeper against you guiding you to the orgasm you so desperately needed from him.

When he pulls away you can see this mouth is glistening with you, his lips are red and plump, his hair a mess, a goddamn fucking mess and he presses his lips to yours, letting you taste how good you are. You moan against the kiss as you feel Peter’s cock in his boxers slide against your pussy. You groan softly.

“Peter, please.” You beg carefully, “I want you to fuck me, please.” You murmur against his lips. Your hot breath against his mouth as both of you are now panting. You palm his cock through his boxers, “Please, Petey.”

The nickname turns him on. God, the nickname turns him on, and he presses a hard kiss to your mouth before standing and taking off his boxers. Grabbing a condom from inside his drawer and that’s when you finally get a look at his long and thick cock. You’re not sure how long it is but every thought that had ever entertained you about the size of his cock was derailing your expectations, because whatever you expected? It was not this. He slides the condom on and joins you back on the bed.

His lips falling back onto yours in drunken heat, both of you are totally plastered on sex. The smell of the room is arousal. The air is thick and all you need is him inside of you at this point. You’re not quite sure if you’ll survive if he doesn’t stick his cock inside of you.

Peter’s finger runs against your sensitive clit again, but he slowly lifts your legs onto his shoulders, as he sits on his thighs. He looks down at you, and how your face contorts as he sticks his cock inside of your anticipating hole that’s still reeling from your last orgasm. But even so you are desperate to cum again and again and again as long as it’s Peter giving it to you. He’s slow at first, moving carefully as though he’s going to hurt you, but when you moan it’s the green light to go a little faster, to move his body against yours. His hips bucking against yours, he groans as he continues to move into you. The slit of his cock presses against your g-spot as he starts dripping pre-cum into the condom. His finger runs over your clit as he continues to pound into you. Your bodies moving like fluid. The way the two of you are so in sync of what you want and how you want it.

“Faster, Peter, please.” You throw your head back and close your eyes, your mouth open as you moan, your tits bouncing right in front of his eyes as he watches how beautiful you are. How you are both so raw in this moment. You’re all he’s ever needed – all he’s truly ever wanted.

Peter does as you say and moves his cock in and out of you faster and faster. Pressing into you, his cock covered in you and all Peter wants to do is taste you again stick his tongue in you and devour you. God, he remembers the taste on his tongue so fucking well. He keeps fucking you senseless. His cock pounding in and out of you and you’re almost numb from the feeling of his sex, you’re drunk, definitely fucking drunk.

Peter’s fucking you so hard, shoving his large cock inside of you, filling you. Filling you so deep and so much. You’re going to cry because of how good you feel, and Peter can feel how your pussy is starting to pulse around his cock. Starting to tighten, around his cock. Your pussy throbbing because of him as you feel your stomach fill with the same fire.

“Fuck Petey, fuck, I’m gonna cum!” You moan loudly as he continues to fuck you so endlessly.

“That’s right, baby, cum for me, c’mon.” He says and it’s enough to push you over the edge as you reach your final orgasm. Your body curls in slightly and jerks forward slightly, Peter can feel himself getting close and as he rides you off of your orgasm, you can feel it too. His cock twitching inside of you, desperate to cum. He pants softly as he continues to pound into you. Feeling that same fire as he watches your tits still bounce and the way you look right now sends him over the edge as cum fills the condom. You’re sweaty, your skin glistening in the soft light of his room. The lamp in the corner amplifying all of your most stunning features. Peter gently takes your legs off of his shoulders as you yawn, snuggling into his sheets.

“Y/n, you gotta go pee.” Peter mutters softly as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “You did good, baby. So good. I hope I made you feel good.”

Peter cleans himself up and you shake your head, “Too tired...” Another yawn escapes your lips and Peter smiles down at you.

How did he ever hate you? Against all odds, he never thought this is where the two of you would be tonight. Peter thought he’d be asleep, and he thought you would be slaving away at your creative writing project. He’s heard you talk about it, but he’s not sure how that’s going for you.

You feel a strong pair of arms lift you up as Peter puts you in one of his nerd shirts, and he’s got a pair of pants on now, regardless, he slides his arms around you and carries you to the bathroom. You never realised how strong he actually was... then again, he is Spider-Man. Peter places you down as you reluctantly go to pee.

It’s funny... how he cares for you after all of this. How despite all the arguments the two of you are now something strange. But one thing’s for sure, you definitely do not hate Peter Parker anymore and he doesn’t hate you.

When you stand and finish peeing those same arms are carrying you back to your room... but that’s the thing, you don’t want to go back to your room, you want to stay with Peter, “Peter, can you... can I? Can you stay with me?” You mutter into his chest.

Peter freezes for a moment, the unusuality of the situation is finally setting in, but he obliges. He doesn’t know exactly where this puts the two of you. Over the past few weeks hate has left you. Jealously had taken over Peter at some point and the two of you had kissed twice – not to mention just had sex.

“You don’t have to.” You whisper into the warmth of him, “But I want you to.” You say meek. Your voice is tiny, and Peter wants to keep cradling you in his arms.

“I’ll stay.” Peter decides, before continuing, “I’ll leave in the morning, so nobody finds out, okay?”

You nod, “O-okay.” Peter sets you down on your bed, before joining you, his arms sliding around you.

When your roommates get home your door is closed and so is Peter’s they think you’re sleeping as far apart as possible. Never did they think or know what would be going on behind your door. If they found out, they’d think they’d enter an alternate reality.

*

It’s a few weeks later and Peter is making pancakes in the kitchen. You wear one of his shirts to bed. Nobody’s really noticed because it’s plain and white, but you sneak up behind him. Wrapping your arms around his torso, engulfing him in a hug. He laughs as you do so, kissing your hand before tending back to the food.

You kiss his back, the way his muscles shine in the morning, so defined. Peter feels this as he cooks, placing some more batter onto the frying pan before turning to you, pressing his lips on yours – it’s still early in the morning so the two of you are able to get away with this. Peter lifts you up by your legs and places you on the kitchen counter. The smell of pancakes and the taste of your lips are stimulating his senses.

“Petey, what if we get caught?” You laugh against his lips as his hands pull you closer. He’s tucked in between your legs as the cold of the counter sends a shiver down your spine.

He shakes his head, “We won’t, either way ‘s okay.” He continues to press his lips onto yours and your hands make their way into his hair – the pancakes are long forgotten as he pulls you closer to him if that’s even possible at this point.

Peter’s mouth begins to move down your jawline, down your neck, leaving kisses everywhere he possibly can. His hands moving from your waist to your thighs, underneath that large shirt of his that he just loves to see you wear. How you look so sexy in anything you wear will forever be a mystery to Peter. How you look so beautiful all the time will also be a mystery to the boy. Peter’s hands move into your hair and your tongues finally intertwine, the warmth of his hands pressing against your cold skin underneath his shirt as he finally reaches the sides of your boobs, gripping onto your sides. You moan against his lips, so desperately needing more than this. Your core beginning to drip.

How does he always do this to you?

You thought the morning would go differently. You didn’t think you’d be making out with your boyfriend as he cooked breakfast. Something was so nice about how domestic the situation was, as though the two of you were living a life together alone.

As you felt Peter just touching you. Being with you. You smiled against his lips, and he pulls away for air, “What’s wrong he questions?”

You laugh, your arms falling over his shoulders, as you tug on the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, “Nothing... I just- I really like this, Pete. You and me.”

He nods, and you finally get a good look at him. His lips are plump and red. His hair is a mess. He’s stunning – beautiful and he’s yours. He’s your boyfriend. It overwhelms you and it overwhelms him, but you place your lips on his after your short confession. He smiles against your lips.

The pancakes are now burnt and the two of you don’t hear the door to Harry and MJ’s room open as you laugh against his lips in happiness. The two of you completely and totally in abyss, pulled away from the world and absolutely in your own. If you got told you’d be in this position a couple months ago, you’d probably laugh. But now you were laughing for all the right reasons.

... and you worry about him. You worry about Peter every night that he goes out. You worry about Peter when he doesn’t text you good night or knock on your window to tell you that he’s home from being Spider-Man. You worry about Peter when you go to these parties, and he disappears in between. You’ve stopped drinking as much so if you need to you can go home and tend to his wounds. Because you care about him. You care about Peter Parker.

Part of you thinks you always cared. If he did die who would be there to make fun of you? Or say some nasty shit that would send you reeling? That’s what it was before. The worry that your greatest enemy would be gone. But now it’s different.

Who will make you feel better about yourself? Who will you tell good news too? Who will kiss you better? Who will help you get rid of your writers block because this story? It’s a story worth sharing. Who will hold you when you’re crying in the middle of the night? Who will make fun of you as you cry at a stupid animated movie (or Revenge of the Sith, which against all odds, Peter had gotten you into Star Wars)?

These things... Peter. He’s changed your life. Sure, for the worse. But that was before. That was before you let yourself fall for him in every single way possible. He was someone who lit up your life and everyone could see that you had been happier... that you had been changing.

... and Harry Osborn had just figured out why. As he watched two of his close friends kiss, who had still been throwing weird insults at each other over the past two months, he finally realises why your banter has been off. Why you in particular, have been happier. Because you’ve found someone.

You found someone that’s made you love and it’s a weird sight to see his best friend making out with the girl who supposedly makes his life hell. It’s so fucking weird. But he can’t blame you. He can’t blame Peter either. The two of you were bound to let this happen. There was always a weird tension around the two of you and Harry was happy that the two of you got rid of it.

MJ wakes up, stirring as she walks over, almost falling because of how dizzy she is and as Michelle looks over at the kitchen counter, she looks to her boyfriend, with a soft groan, “Am I still dreaming?”

He shakes his head, “No... you’re not.”

You laugh against Peter’s lips as he finally notices the burnt pancake on the stove, “Shit!” He says softly and you throw your head back laughing once more. Watching him as he tries to save what’s been long gone.

Harry and MJ aren’t sure what’s going on but what they do know is that there are two people in love in their kitchen.

... and they’ve overcome so much.

-

hi tysm for reading! | ADD YOURSELF TO MY TAGLIST OR YOU CAN SEND AN ASK <3

[gayandfairycore]

⍣ ೋ Spider-Man masterlist

This is my masterlist dedicated to all things spiderman! I love every iteration but Andrew was always my favourite 🕷️

[this indicates smut *]

Andrew Peter 🕷️

There’s nothing here…

Tobey Peter 👓

There’s nothing here…

Tom’s peter 🕸️

There’s nothing here…

[notrandtumblin]

Expected to be released August 30th 2024!

Definitely gonna come out. Definitely gonna blow Deadpool 3 out of the water.

[scorpiomother]

so many options to bless your lockscreen with┌( ಠ‿ಠ)┘

[esha-isboogara]

𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓪 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 ♡

tobey is super underrated. that’s it. that’s the post

tobey!peter getting the head he deserves

☆ALRIGHT MINORS YOUVE HAD YOUR FUN TIME TO LEAVE!! , oral(m), praise just classic filth

well"? he gestured down to his hardened member practically begging to be released from the confines of its prison within his jeans. "this cock isn't gonna suck itself now is it"?

y/n chewed her lip for a moment as if in thought before sinking to her knees obediently. she was not in the mood to be bratty today.

"no..it's my job to suck it and please you,master". she said, using her slender fingers to trace the imprint of his member through his pants.

"there's no need to be shy now gorgeous, i know how much you love sucking dick. come on now show me how much you wanna please master". his cobalt eyes meeting hers.

she nodded with a big smile. the sound of his word of praise gave her a boost of confidence.

peter hummed in approval placing his palm on your head and pushing you closer. "be a good girl for me hm? stick your tongue out and breath through your nose".

with no hesitation her lips wrapped around  the pink tip of his length allowing it to glide over her tongue and hit the back of her throat.

"mmm there we go beautiful, use that tight throat of yours to please me." he groaned placing his hand on top of your head , grappling a chunk of your hair in the process.

"you look so pretty like this...can i take a picture ? i want to savor this moment forever...i could keep a picture of your dick filled face anf keep it in my wallet".

she wasn't exactly sure how to respond to  a comment like that. no one had ever asked her such a thing.

peter had already grabbed his camera off the nightstand aiming it down at her.

"look here baby...lemme see those begging eyes of yours".

[thewonandonly]

20:40 — we were a sonata, thanks to tight-lipped fathers, yeah, living under that was hard, but i loved you harder. | high school in jakarta by NIKI

spiderman!mark pulls the mask from his face, panting heavily as he grabbed the second pair of clothes stuffed into his backpack webbed against the fire escape of the restaurant the two of you were supposed to meet.

"shit, i'm late, i'm late, i'm late." he swore, tying the tie quickly before he climbed down the side of the wall, landing on his feet in an alleyway and running around to the front door of the restaurant.

in his hurry, he pulled himself back a bit, slowing down to catch his breath, greeting the hostess and walks past, as if he owned the building.

he saw you sitting at the table, pulling out the chair to sit across from you, "oh, look who showed up." you mumbled, using the straw to poke at the ice cubes at the bottom of the glass.

mark sighed, throwing the napkin on his lap, "i know, i'm late." he held his hands up in defense, "i got held up."

you scoffed, "mark, i get it, you're busy with work, but you made this commitment when we started college."

mark rubbed his eyes, letting another sigh escape his lips, "you're right. i'm sorry."

you smiled, "thank you." you grabbed his hand across the table, "i ordered you your favorite, i'm still waiting for it to come out."

"thank you, baby." he smiled.

lights echoed off the reflective buildings and through the restaurant's windows. all patrons turned to look at lights as the sirens screamed.

mark knew that if he had left his seat in the moment, he'd have hell to pay from your wrath.

"what's going on?" you questioned, standing up before mark held his hand out to have you sit.

looking up at him, mark wandered out the door, past the building.

you sighed, following him out after dropping the cash on the table. your coat only did so much, your cheeks burning as the cold wind hit them.

and as you made it around the corner of the restaurant, a suit of red and blue zipped past you, the webs remaining behind from the hero.

copyright © 2022 the-wonandonly. all rights reserved.

[supernaturalstilinski]

Andrew!Peter

One shots:

Instagram blurbs:

Tom!Peter

One shots:

Instagram blurbs:

- Identity

Tobey!Peter

One shots:

Instagram blurbs:

[losersblog]

imagine sitting on his face n you queef inside his nose and he gets a pink eye and then you guys fall alseep and you turn to him and wake up and see his eye is fucking pink with redness around his eyes and its swollen and you look at him in disgust and say “ew what happened to you nasty looking eye?” and he says “oh you queefed inside my nose and into my eye and now i have a pink eye also your breath smells” so you get up and go to the bathroom and as your heading down to the bathroom he says “can you queef on my face again?🥺 pwease” you turn around and look at his and giggle and say “ok😉😉” and then you go to the bathroom and close the door and take your daily shit of the usually your shits would come out in littke balls but this time it came in like a ball “babe!!! look” you say and peter rushes to the bathroom and opens the door and as he walks in he smells the flower scented bathroom and say “wow it smells to so good honey bunches!🥰” “thanks babe but look” you stand up and show him your ball shaped shit “ what do you think?” i think it looks good!!”

time passes by

you were making breakfast in the kitchen for peter before you leave for work “peter!!! babe!!!!” you say out loud so that he can hear “YES???” he yells back “COME EAT” “OK COMING HONEY BUNCHE” he came from upstairs heading to the chair infront of you he hits down and looks at thr food then you “wow that food looks delicious!” he says “ aww thank you babe” while serving him a plate “there eat” while heading up stairs he says “ where are you going?” im going to get ready for work dumb fuck” you say “oh ok” you headed into your room to get all of your dildos ready and you packed up and dresses up for work you grabbes socks and a few underwear to last you the year you got all your things ready and started to bring your stuff downstairs “im gonna be leaving soon honey poop” “alright ill miss you don do cock stuff” “dont worry i wont shit head you loaded your things and ran away and never went

credits: @losersblog 😘😘

[stormxpadme]

New smut oneshot online here.

In which Angelica, Peter and Bobby should be doing Christmas shopping but decide to do something more fun instead.

[jakessbtch]

☆ request list | j.b

what i can/will write!

x reader [y/n, __, ect.] fluff, angst, smut character x character

what i will not write!

basics [r4cism, p3dophilia, ect.] smut for characters/persons under 18 y/o/a [including actors.] smut for ageless characters/persons. heavy gore. romanticization of SA, Gr00ming, SH, R4pe, ED's. abuse + physical/emotional cheating.

fandoms/persons i currently write for!

Trap House! Jake Webber. Sam Golbach. Colby Brock.

Youtubers! Tara Yummy. Johnnie Guilbert.

Spider-Man! Peter Parker [earth-199999/Tom Holland] Peter Parker [earth-120703/Andrew Garfield] Peter Parker [earth-96283/Tobey Maguire] Hobie Brown

IT [2019]! Bill Denbrough [19] Beverly Marsh [19] Richie Tozier [19 + Male Reader ONLY] Eddie Kasprak [19] Mike Hanlon [19] Ben Hanscom [19]

IANOWT! Stanley Barber Sydney Novak Dina Bryant Brad Lewis

masterlist.

[liz-allyn]

sugar and vice, pt. 22 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!oc]

summary: no amount of money ever bought a second of time.

words: 6.9k

chapter warning: soft smut, characters pretending to be mean and therefore breaking your heart

series warnings: mob-typical bang bang violence, hurt/comfort. smut. Spicy situations. spousal / domestic abuse. family trauma. verbal abuse. 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. having happiness ripped away from you.

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 weren't alive when Tobey Maguire was Spider-Man, maybe you should wait.

Part 22

A wise woman once told Peter that time was the key to the universe. She was so incredibly right.

Even so, Peter had a complicated relationship with time. He was always on the wrong side.

He had too much, or too little. He’d lose it. It would get away from him. It’d be just out of his reach, mocking him from the ivory tower of a future he would never have. 

The phrase ‘what if’ ticked away in his mind, like seconds on a clock. Like the broken hands of a clock face not too far from Roosevelt Island.

If he’d gone to bed an hour later, maybe he would’ve been awake enough to be able to save Ben and May from the gunfire.

If he’d gone into that convenience store a minute earlier or later, he would’ve never had the opportunity to try to be a hero.

If he had more time with Gwen…

If he had given her more of his time…

Time was the key to everything.

For someone who could crawl up walls and bend steel in his bare hands, he was rather powerless. What’s super about any of those party tricks compared to the power to control time? His estrangement with time left him weak and weary—no more than a street magician with cards up his sleeve.

But the night his Honey gave herself to him—for the first time in a long time—Peter felt superhuman.

He took his time with her. Washing the grime from her hair. Relishing her touch as she reached up to wash his back, and again as she ran gentle fingertips over his mending ribs. Long after their skin pruned, he held her beneath the roar of the shower, right next to his heart. 

Peter would’ve let the oceans run dry if it gave them more time to just be.

When they emerged, the sun was setting.

He counted heartbeats and freckles and dimples and breaths as they searched one another for injury. Patiently, they tended to each other’s wounds, but he didn’t waste too much time with his temporary discomfort. 

He’d live. In fact, he’d had worse. His natural healing abilities would take over eventually.

Until then, he could take his mind off his pain. And he was determined to do the same for her.

Peter focused his energy on stretching out each moment into an eternity, although that was hardly enough time to worship her how he wanted. He knew her so well already—or at least he thought he did— up until he noticed how her lower lip would twitch and fall agape as she reached orgasm. 

This discovery intrigued him. More research was needed. 

There were things about her body that only experimentation and practice could teach him, and the thought of unlocking more of her mysteries drove him wild. 

He wanted to study her. To become an expert in what made her gasp and quiver. A master of her body and heart, even as he became a willing slave to both. 

He wanted all of her, just as he’d said. 

To know her, wholly. 

Pleasure and pain. Joy and sorrow.

With a tender touch, Peter studied the scars of her past, stamped on her flesh like letters inked by a typewriter. He read each line, over and over, now committing to memory what he’d managed to miss because before he’d been in a hurry. Such a fool.

He followed the path of every bead of her sweat that served to punctuate the ecstasy of the present. Her soft sighs soothed him—crisp-sounding, like turning of pages in a book.

He should’ve taken his time to read her before, to really see her.

He wouldn’t repeat the mistake.

And so, ever the good student, he took his time. 

He wanted to know her by heart. He’d turned his bed into a seminary, where soon he’d be able to recite her like passages from a Bible.

Devotion like that takes time.

‘All a man has is time,’ Uncle Ben would say, ‘and what he chooses to do with it.’

Peter wasn’t going to waste a moment of it.

A thin sheen of cooled sweat coated his nude form as he stood at the foot of his bed. In reverent silence, he regarded the delicate woman softly dozing in his sheets. His gaze was content as he took in the peacefulness on her face. Her lashes hung heavy on her round cheeks, and her chest rose and fell in a steady pattern. 

She was curled up, snuggled with her face in the pillow as she clutched the bedsheet around her like a teddy bear. The eerie glow of dusk illuminated the curves not concealed by the sheet. Hidden paths up her thighs lured his gaze, barely obscured by the Egyptian cotton threads of the bedding. Her tiny fingers cuddled the edges of the fabric. It had turned into a chaste vestal robe which concealed places his mouth had explored an hour ago.

Even in her sleep, she was saintly and seductive. It was endearing as much as it was enticing.

His soft gaze continued down the path of her body. The rest of him hardened. 

“I can feel you, you know,” she murmured against the pillow. “Creeping on me.”

The tips of his ears went red, eyes widening like a cartoon robber frozen in a giant spotlight clutching a money bag in his hand. She snorted with amusement as she peeked at him over the covers. 

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” Peter chuckled in response, blushing.

“I’m not sleepy,” she lied. “Just resting my eyes.”

Both were exhausted. 

If they went at it again, it would count as Round 3 for him, and Round 5 for her. Maybe even 6. His regenerative abilities blessed him with seemingly endless stamina, but it was no match for the kind of day they’d had. 

The onslaught of damage, both physical and emotional, wore them down. Their activities wouldn’t have been possible if not for a mind-numbing wave of adrenaline-fueled lust that seized them. They were driven by the desperate need for compassion and comfort.

And yet, there he was: a caveman leering down at her with a boner. 

She twisted around, studying him with sparkling eyes. She reached out her hands in his direction, making grabby claws with her fingers. “M’not even tired. Lemme show you.” He snickered, watching her fight off a yawn that suggested the opposite.

Carefully, he crawled up from the foot of his bed to her side, pulling the sheets back to position himself behind her. He pulled her close until her back was up against his chest, skin-to-skin.

“Noooo,” she whined softly. “Gimme you.”

Peter couldn’t hold back his grin, although he shook his head. “You have me. What you need is some rest.”

“You’re the one who's ogling me in my sleep with a hard-on. Like a weirdo.”

His smile glowed in the darkness. “Can’t help it, Honey.” He leaned down over her shoulder, his warm breath tickling her ear. “Everything you do makes me hard.” He followed the statement with the evidence lined up against her lower back. His hands roved over her hips, greedily gripping the flesh at the top of her thighs. 

She hummed in satisfaction, making a noise that wasn’t helping either of them. He felt her body press even closer to his, rolling her hips. Peter couldn’t let out the erotic hiss gathering in his chest at the sensation of his shaft sliding between her cheeks.

He was losing control again. He propped himself up on one elbow with his hand keeping her hip still. “We... we should... sleep—you should sleep. Sleep is good. Sleep—”

“I don’t wanna.” Her head was turned upwards, glancing back at his winded expression. 

“But-but you... need to—”

She bent her neck and captured his lips with her own. She pulled away with a seductive pout. “I thought you knew what I needed.” 

Again, her mouth sweetly teased his, delicately coy, until she charged forward and conquered his kiss. For a few seconds (or... maybe a few minutes), he was the submissive one, as he succumbed to her desire. He remained helplessly complacent as her tongue toyed with his. It was only when he realized he’d lost track of the time that he pressed his fingertips to her chin and pulled away. 

It was one of the hardest challenges of his entire life.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he pleaded, voice deep in his chest. His forehead kissed hers as he held his eyes closed.

She blinked up at him curiously as he nuzzled her nose. “Do you need a moment?” she said shyly, biting her lower lip.

His lashes fluttered open as he stared down at the Milky Way in her eyes. 

Strangely, he thought of the great sea explorers of the past. He pictured himself in Magellan’s place, standing at the helm of a carrack in the eerie darkness of the Pacific. He was adrift in a vast ocean of uncharted waters with no land in sight, nothing but the stars overhead to guide him. He clung to them desperately, fearful of the darkness outside of their hold, but awestruck by their wonder. It was like gazing at the gate of heaven. Being alone in the Universe, locked in an intimate moment with God herself.

“What are you thinking about?” she murmured curiously. The question wasn’t worried or rushed.

Peter observed her intently, memorizing the pattern of her freckles. “I need so much more than a moment,” he breathlessly replied. His eyes shimmered in the dim light. “I need to stop time.”

She blinked several times, pondering his response with an uncertainty that might have gutted him if she had let it go on too long. 

Thankfully, she answered with another passionate kiss, tilting her chin behind her shoulder. The air was swept from their lungs when she pulled away from his lips. “What about a lifetime?” she whispered. “What could you do with that?”

Affection warmed his eyes while passion ignited his stare. He didn’t hesitate further. The width of his hand cupped her jaw firmly, and he crashed his lips into hers. He breathed her into his lungs as he leaned over her, his cock resting heavily in the space behind her back.

She let her fingers card through his thick, brunette waves, playing with the damp ends that had curled up after the shower. Synchronizing her movements, she dragged her backside across his shaft and her nails through his scalp. He purred, twitching against her spine. 

His hand travelled down again, memorizing the feeling of each pore from her jaw to chest...to her stomach... across her pubic bone... and finally slipping into her dripping folds. A satisfied hmmm rumbled from his chest as he licked a spot beneath her ear. The warmth of his tongue, matched with the roughness of his fingers, made her quiver in his grasp.

She pulled her hand away from his scalp, urgently searching for his waist to pull his lower back into hers. As the gentle tease of his fingers formed into a languid massage, she bucked her hips impatiently, using the arm under her pillow to balance herself.

“So needy,” he muttered, tone sizzling. 

She mewled, her hand frantically searching for a place to land. It fluttered at his wrist, his bicep, his nape, then over to her chest, her breasts, and back to his hand again.

“Told you I’d take care of ya,” he whispered, bringing his other hand on the underside of her hip bone, replacing the outside one. “Just relax.” His other hand gripped her uncertain fingers, guiding them down to her breasts. He slowly squeezed each one of her mounds with his hand over hers, allowing his fingers to spin a wheel at her tender bud.

Intently, he watched as her eyes disappeared, rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it, baby, I gotcha.” His voice was dripping with dark chocolate. “Keep goin’ just like that.” 

It was an order, somehow delicate and firm.

It drifted into her ear like smoke from a wildfire and only added kerosine to the blaze in her belly. He reached down and lifted her outer thigh, forming a V with her legs. Opening up her core allowed his hand better access to her clit, while the other hand groped his cock and positioned it at her entrance.

“You need me to slow down?” he questioned, his mouth going dry from the panting. “Jus’say the word, and we can stop at any—”

“Don’t stop, Peter,” she cut him off impatiently, her voice lilting in desperation. There was no room for shame. “I need to feel you inside me.”

With a breathless gasp, he obliged her hunger and his own. He pushed the eager, leaking tip of his cock through her wet folds, perhaps a little more forcefully than he otherwise would have. He drank in her expression—the wince on her face, the flutter of her eyelashes, the pathetic whimper quickly melting into an erotic moan.

“S’okay, pretty girl,” he soothed. “M’gonna make it better.”

The grip of his fingers pushed dents into the meat of her thigh as he pried her open and rolled his hips into her heat.

“Doin’ so good for me,” he praised, his need overwhelming his senses. He pulled his hips back and drove them forward, slow enough for him to imbibe in her tremors. Her core fluttered over every inch. 

“Am I still a good girl?” she gasped with wide, wet eyes. Her head was thrown back against his shoulder and cradled against his bicep.

“Yeah, you are, princess,” he practically growled. She could feel the reverberation of his voice in her heart. “You’re my good girl.”

He sealed his lips around her open-mouthed moan, greedily licking it up for himself.

Each second stretched to a millennium. That’s what he would wish for if the Devil himself offered him a trade. However, it wouldn’t take long for the Dark One to realize that he had been cheated. Peter’s soul belonged to someone else already. 

Until mountains erode into sand. That’s how long he wanted each kiss to last. 

“God, you feel so good, baby...”

When sequoias that pierce the sky tumble and decay into the soil, from which a new giant is born and completes its life cycle. That’s how long he wanted each of her sighs to last.

“M’gonna be good t’you, always...”

Until every tectonic plate wades to a new home atop a pool of lava, and the face of the Earth is unrecognizable.

“You’re so good to me, Pete... s-so good—”

Until all the glaciers have melted. At the end of the next Ice Age. 

—“...radio waves from Galaxy 0402+379, whose coordinates appear in the constellation Perseus,  featuring binary supermassive black holes with the least separation of any directly observed binaries, at a distance of approximately 23.88 Light-Years. Now, who can tell me what happens when these two objects reach singularity? Anyone? — Yes, Mr. Parker...”—

“Don’ever wanna lose you, Honey... Never, never...”

Until the end of the Milky Way’s last dance, as the curtain falls while it takes its sister Andromeda by the hand.

“Shhh, you won’t, baby. You won’t lose me. Just—ahh—stay with me...”

Each moment stretched out into eternity. Slow like molasses. Dripping like honey.

She was right. Time was the key to the whole universe.

And as Peter pushed her toward another summit, clutching her close as they tumbled over the peak together, they shared a sweat-coated sigh of relief. Both of them were finally sated, at least for now. At this moment, they were content drifting off to sleep in the cradle of each other’s embrace. 

He kept her body wrapped around his, her face buried into the crook of his neck. His hand weighed heavily across her back. Eyes closed, he listened intently to her familiar purr.

He knew it well. It was the one that would confirm she was asleep—the signal he would wait for to open his eyes and observe her beauty freely, without hinderance or shame.

“I love you,” he said. 

Always.

A vow. 

A hope.

A plea.

She woke up to the sound of rain pattering on the window panels. 

Grey light pushed on her eyelids, prying them apart, while cool air scratched at her back. She responded by folding herself tighter and burrowing her nose into a warm chest. She was still dreaming, she thought. The scent of cedar and cinnamon filled her airways as calloused hands tickled her back.

She was dreaming. And it was a beautiful dream. She refused to acknowledge the light, fighting off the waking world.

When she felt a gentle brush of fingers clearing a lock of her hair from her face, she found the courage to open her eyelids. Gazing fondly at her were a pair of doe eyes. The light of day reflected off their hue, but the facets were illuminated from within. 

Like candlelight. Like fire. Roasted chestnuts, caramel, chocolate, hazelnut, whiskey, brown sugar, and molasses. Warm amber, deep garnet, charred topaz, smokey quartz, bronze, brass, and gold. Earth and fire and water and the air that escaped her lungs.

And honey. Delectable, delicious honey. 

She found it all in his eyes.

“Morning,” he murmured, his throat thick from hibernation. A beaming smile burst through his lips, burning through clouds outside.

Her heart stuttered as she basked in its glow. “Morning.”

He glowed. Her friend. Her protector. Her lover.

They lay in silence, regarding one another with warm gazes and warmer hearts.

“How long’ve you been awake?” she said with a tired smile, leaning back into her pillow to get a better look at his face.

“Not sure,” he whispered, threading his fingers through her hand and placing it near his heart. The short distance between them at the present was as far away from her as he could stand. “I was jus' thinkin' about how long I've been asleep. Too long.”

She blinked at the awe in his expression, blushing as she realized he wasn’t referring to last night’s rest. Her eyes sparkled back at him, feeling a slight ache at the corners. They held several seconds of blessed silence, taking in each other in peace, until Peter rubbed the haze from his eyes.

“We outta get up,” he sighed. “Need to pack.”

“Pack?” she repeated. Her smile dimmed a bit, as the dark memories of the past couple of days crept back into her consciousness. “Where are we going?”

“You let me worry about that,” he said, though not unkind. He kissed the back of her hand tenderly. “All you need to know is that we’ll be safe. And Bella and your sisters will be waiting for us.”

Her eyes fluttered wide. “Really?”

He smiled. “Really.” Gazing at her fondly, Peter watched the relief wash over her until it brimmed at her lashes. “I’m jus’ goin’ over the details in my head,” he added thoughtfully. “Does your ma ever play the lottery?”

She smirked. “No.”

“Well,” he pondered, “she’ll be so surprised when she finds out she’s won a million dollars and another vacation getaway.”

A snort broke through her foolish grin. “Practically astonished. Won’t even bother to question it.” 

“She can come along as long as she doesn’t ask any questions,” Peter said delicately before giving it some thought. He added on a condition. “And she keeps her mouth shut.” More thinking. “And stays alone, in her own place, away from us and the girls.” His brow furrowed as he continued to ponder. “Maybe even on a different continent. I’m still fine-tuning the kinks in my plan.”

“Hmmmmm,” she grinned, leaning into another soft kiss. “Kinks.” 

Playfully, she brushed her tongue against his, stirring a deep groan from his chest. When he pulled back, he fixed her with a sultry gaze. “Careful...” he warned. “You might start somethin’ you’ll have to finish. Again. And again. And again—”

She giggled and leaned in for another kiss until they were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. The couple jumped, with Honey clutching the sheet to her chest.

“Pete!” they heard Felicia’s voice through the wall. “Open up! Or... close—whatever it is you’re in the middle of.”

Honey snapped her eyes to Peter, embarrassment flooding her expression. He grinned wide, amused by her flustered state. 

“Just a minute,” he called back as Honey pulled the sheets off the bed and dragged them with her. Alarmed, she scurried across the room with a shocked look. “C’mon,” he muttered at her with a jeering chuckle. “You didn’t think we were that quiet last night, did you?”

Scowling, she flipped him off and disappeared into his closet. Coming to a stand, he paused with one foot over the edge of the bed, his smile fading.

There were two heartbeats at his bedroom door.

“Hurry up, Peter,” Felicia repeated, a lack of levity in her tone. “We’ve got company.” 

In a blink, he had on a pair of sweatpants and was reaching for his phone. He pulled up a camera feed outside of his bedroom. 

Felicia stood with her arms crossed impatiently, tapping her fingers along her biceps. A familiar face waited beside her, wearing crimson-tinted sunglasses and clutching a white cane. 

Something sharp pulled at his chest, the brightness of his smile dimming. He glanced back at the closet doorway. 

“C’mon, Pete. We don’t have time!”

Peter frowned.

Of course they didn't. It was always out of his reach.

He wiped the self-pity off his face as he pulled open the door. He hadn't bothered with a shirt, facing them with a bare chest still striped with bruises. 

“Matt,” he stated, reading the grim look on the other man’s face. Peter didn’t need many words to confirm what he could already hear in his friends’ heartbeats.

“Sorry to wake you,” Matt stated tensely, “but we’ve got a problem.”

It took a minute for Honey to be brave enough to poke her head out of the closet. She was fully clothed, wearing a silk robe tied snugly around her waist, but her flushed cheeks telegraphed her embarrassment.

She expected smug and teasing expressions, if not from Matt, then definitely from Felicia. What she saw was the opposite.

“How much time?” Peter asked, brows furrowed and arms crossed tightly.

“Maybe a minute,” Matt answered. "Maybe less."

“Building’s surrounded,” Felicia added anxiously. “Cleaning crew just left. We haven’t had time to check the work.”

“They’re good at what they do,” Peter assured her. “It’ll be fine. We just need to put on our game faces, stay calm, and we’ll get through this—”

“They’re bringing an army down here, Pete,” Matt implored. “You need to be sure.”

“If I weren’t, I wouldn't be standing here,” he replied.

“You oughta be running,” Felicia said sharply, "preferably to LaGuardia."

“Leaving is a bad look,” Matt argued. “I cannot stress that enough.”

Felicia glared at him. “But you would recommend a trip to Ryker’s? I thought you were supposed to be a good lawyer?”

“Cat. We need to deflect attention right now. Stay calm.”

“Where are we going?” Honey questioned, her voice cutting through the tension like a hot blade into butter. 

The conversation came to a screeching halt.

Eyes snapped in her direction, but she noted how Felicia immediately looked away. Even Matt turned his head; his nose pointed at the floor.

Peter was the only one who looked her in the eye. And when he did, it made her stomach twist. Despair filled his gaze.

He didn't need to say a word. She already felt faint. “Pe-Peter...?”

He dashed across the room, taking her face in his hands. As quick as the motion was, everything felt like it was moving too fast—need more time—and Honey couldn’t keep up. Like concrete weighed down her feet—what happened, what just happened, what’s happening—and the lights of an oncoming train blinded her. 

“Pe-Pe—But—-wh-wha—? What is he talking about whatdoesthatmean who’scominghere wha-what-whatdoesshemean—”

“Easy, easy,” he cooed. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay, yeah? I’ve got it under control.”

Her voice shattered beneath a whisper, “Don’t lie to me, Peter!” 

He fell silent. Sorrow twisted his closed lips. Then, hesitantly, he explained, “The cops are here. They know about Walker.”

Honey gasped. And then she felt herself go numb.

“They were expecting him to check in this morning. And when he didn’t, somebody knew to come here.”

Tears flooded her vision with wretched memories riding them like a tidal wave. A python tangled itself around her lungs, constricting her breath. 

“Now, they’re gonna come in and make a big show,” Peter continued to explain, “but it’s very important that you stay calm, Honey. Don’t say a word. Don’t answer any questions. Just follow my lead.”

She was crying. Her mind was traveling through wormholes in time. She was hurdling untethered into a cosmos of what-ifs and should-have-dones. Doubt and terror filled her expression as her heart broke into pieces.

“Nothin’ bad’s gonna happen to you, sweetheart. On my life, I swear it,” Peter softly declared. “You’re gonna be okay.” 

Honey blinked wet lashes up at him, still existing outside reality. “I... I’m... I’m not afraid.”

Peter went still, lips parting.

She stared at him with resolve, her voice turning to steel. “I don’t regret what I did. Even if I have to go to jail—”

“You’re not going to jail,” he promised, shutting down the idea.

“I’m not sorry that I killed him. I’d do it all over again, if I had to. He was a monster... and-and he needed to die. I’ll tell them—”

“Honey, you’re not going to jail,” Peter firmly repeated. “I am.”

She froze, her stomach and heart plunging. Her wet eyes went wide. “What?” Terror gripped her. “What!? What do you mean—”

Peter noted how she physically pulled back, like a cobra ready to fight to the death.

“Listen to me, listen, listen," he pleaded. "We don’t have a lot of time, so I need you to listen to me carefully, yeah?” Peter murmured, the sight of her tears twisting a knife in his chest. “It’s gonna be fine. They’ll take me in, but we can fight it. Nobody has to know what really happened, alright? All you gotta do is follow my lead—”

Now her mind was traveling elsewhere, plummeting down into hell.

She pictured Peter in handcuffs. In an orange jumpsuit. At his trial. For murder. Of a goddamn shitbag. A federal agent. Sentenced. To death.

She rapidly blinked as if doing so could clear the horrifying image from her vision. Instead, she kept shaking her head as the nightmare unfolded.

Her tongue wouldn't work right. “But-But—”

“You’re my brave girl,” he said with soft desperation. “Jus’ need ya to stay brave a little longer, alright?”

“You... you didn’t do—no, no, you can’t—”

“I’ll make sure you’re safe,” he pleaded. “You, Bella, your sisters—you’re all gonna be okay. Just like I promised, alright? You just gotta go along with what I say. Whatever you hear, you gotta stay quiet, okay?”

“But...”

“No buts, you gotta trust me—”

“But... M’not—”

“I’m serious, Honey. I’m not playin’ around. Don’t fight with me on this—”

“I’m not letting them take you away from me!” she snapped, her voice breaking.

He went quiet as her fingers gripped him by the arms, nails digging into his flesh. She shook her head vehemently. In fact, her whole body was trembling like the facade of an avalanche. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks as she stared desperately up at Peter.

“You belong to me, too!" she said through sobs. "Okay? You’re mine, and I’m not letting you go. I’m not running away. There is nothing on this Earth that I love more, and I’m not leaving you!” 

Time stopped. 

Peter blinked at her, unsure if he actually heard what she just said. 

When he listened to her heart, it beat steadily. Drumming its truth. Each beat the tolling of a bell, ringing clear.

One moment stretched out into eternity.

Peter's eyes shimmered as he gazed down at her. His heart swelled beyond his chest, outside of the room, dwarfing the skyscrapers, eclipsing the sky.

Craning his neck, he touched his forehead to hers. He swore he could feel her devotion through her skin. He was empowered by it. Weakened by it.

Swallowing hard, he breathed her into his lungs.

Suddenly, they were alone in the room. In the city. On the planet. A shudder racked through her, a silent sob escaping her lips. “I... love you, Peter. I love you so much—”

“I know you do,” he nodded with a reassuring tone. Tears budded at his eyelids. “I know.” He hooked his fingers beneath her jaw and pointed her gaze up at his. 

There she is, he thought. His light in the darkness. His hope. His Honey.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered. 

She felt her pulse in her own throat as she gazed up at him with red eyes. He waited for a response. She sniffed and nodded, swallowing her panic back down. 

He smiled warmly. “Then I need you to remember that I love you,” he said. “And don’t ever forget it. No matter what you hear, okay? I love you forever. No matter what.”

Heavy footsteps echoed from down the hall. Her stomach twisted helplessly at the sound. Peter pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. When they parted, he turned away from her. She watched his retreating form until she felt Felicia's fingers take her by the shoulders. Gently, the woman led her back away from bedroom entrance.

Honey watched him longingly as her arms ached to hold him. He kept his back to her, eyes fixed on the ground. 

“Police!” a shout boomed from the hallway. “Coming in!” Honey felt a scream bubbling in her throat, desperate to break free.

The door opened with a bang. 

Peter kept himself steady, casting his eyes downward as a herd of boots stampeded around him. In a blink, at least a dozen of NYPD’s finest filled the space, with pistols and rifles pointed at Peter. They barked orders, shouting over one another. 

He was motionless.

Honey’s eyes darted around to see the ridiculous show of force, more befitting of Michael Myers or Hannibal Lector.

Half of them wore traditional police uniforms and bulletproof vests, while the other half wore full body-armor and carried SWAT-style equipment. Her eyes narrowed in on the SHIELD patch on the arms of one of the officers, her stomach twisting into knots.

“Hands up!”

“Put your hands above your head!”

“This is absurd—you’re in my client’s private residence!”

“Hands where I can see them!” 

When Peter looked up at them, he was a different man. He looked surprised. His eyes glittered with amusement, and his mouth was crooked with a brash grin. Relaxed, he leaned back on his hands as casually as any visit, observing the intruders with a pompous smirk

“Mornin’, boys,” he said boldly. “Please tell me one of you brought donuts.”

“On your feet!” one of the SHIELD agents hissed. The man sporting dark stubble over his jawline and a military crew cut stepped forward and gripped Peter by the shoulder. With a yank, he hauled the half-naked man to his feet—or rather, Peter allowed himself to be manhandled into a standing position. 

“Hey, watch it!” Matt snapped. “You lay a finger on my client, and I’ll have your badge faster than you can say your overly complicated acronym.”

“Tell ya what, Murdock,” the dark-haired SHIELD agent glowered at him with a cruel smile. “If you see something, say something.”

“You hear that, Matty?” Peter snorted. “Small Dick Energy over here’s brought his big guns and blind jokes today... What’s ya name anyway, pal?” 

“Rumlow,” the SHIELD agent spat. “What’s it to you?”

“No big deal,” Peter shrugged. “I’m gonna wanna know which funeral home to send the flowers to, is’all.” 

Rumlow’s face turned red with rage, giving him a look that shot terror down Honey’s spine. Peter smirked haughtily as a different police officer turned him around and wrenched his wrists behind his back. 

“Ooh!” Peter hissed playfully, with a lascivious wiggle of his brows. “Easy, tiger. Gimme some time to recharge 'ere. I had a rough tumble last night—”

“It’s about to get rougher,” a husky voice called from the entrance. 

Honey turned to see George Stacy’s ominous form blocking the doorway. His eyes were even baggier than the last time she saw him. His stringy, graying red hair looked unwashed, and he wore a wrinkled white dress shirt under his Kevlar vest. Marching into the room, the man glared at Peter with narrow eyes that could melt steel.

“Georgie!” Peter called out with glee. “I thought I smelled bacon. Good to see ya, buddy!”

“Captain Stacy to you, asshole,” Rumlow bitterly remarked. 

“Oh, no, Georgie and I go waayy back—wait a sec....did you say ‘Captain?’” Peter questioned before turning to George in shock. “Really? Still? Ya mean they haven’t given you a promotion yet? That’s some bullshit right there—”

“Peter Parker,” George declared sharply, popping each ‘P,’ leering at him like a shark hunting a sea lion. “It’s with the utmost pleasure that I inform you that you’re under arrest.”

“I’m happy for you, Georgie,” Peter smirked. “Really am. You look like you could use some pleasure.”

“Captain Stacy,” Matt snarled, inserting himself between the two men, “I had a conversation with the Commissioner this morning. We agreed that Mr. Reilly was coming in of his own accord—”

“‘Ben Reilly’ can come on down whenever he wants,” George sneered disdainfully, pointing at Peter. “I’m here for him.” He flicked his eyes back to Matt, “If you wanna take something up with the Commissioner, go ahead. He’s downstairs.”

“That’s perfect—maybe we can all do a round of 20 Questions!” Peter grinned wide. “Anybody up for a game? Here. I’ll start:” He glanced over at George, lifting his chin proudly. “Never Have I Ever... been suspended from active duty for showin’ up to work three-sheets-to-the-wind and smellin’ like I bathed in a vat of Irish Whiskey.”

George chuckled mirthlessly, loathing in his eyes. “That’s funny. Always so clever.” His smile faded. “Make jokes all you want, Parker. They’re still gonna take it outta your ass at Ryker’s. If you even make it that far.”

The humor dimmed in Peter’s eyes, but his grin was infallible. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

“I know exactly how to tempt you,” George said through gritted teeth. He glanced across the room to the small woman hugging herself in a silk robe. “You.”

Honey’s glossy eyes went wide, stunned motionless as all eyes turned to her. “Me?” Her voice trembled pathetically, tongue fumbling. She was incapacitated by her fear as much as she was by her growing anger.

“You," Stacy grinned with a set of shark teeth. "You’re comin’ too. Cuff her.”

She flinched as a blue-shirted officer stepped towards her. 

“Wait. Who?” the cuffed man piped up.

They halted at the sound of Peter’s confusion. With a crooked brow, Peter leaned forward, bending at the waist. When Honey made eye contact with him, she was shocked to see him practically looking through her. His face went blank, eyes widening slightly.

“Oh,” he said, as if he’d found a stray cat on his front stoop, or a slightly-interesting ad in his mailbox. “Hi, there.” Awkwardly, he smiled at her, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Uh...” He blew out an exaggerated exhale, utter shock on his face. “You!”

A crease formed between her eyes as she stared back. The crowd of officers glanced between them with growing confusion. 

Peter eyed her with a blush, embarrassed. Sheepishly, he blurted out, “Eh. I gotta level with you. I didn’t know you were still here.” 

A hitch formed in her throat as she blinked at him, her face looking as if he’d slapped her. By contrast, besides the slight discomfort of being caught off guard, he appeared apathetic. Like she was a total stranger.

“Um, look,” he said, scrunching his face like he was about to rip off a bandaid. “I... uh, usually this isn’t my style, but... M’kinda in the middle’a somethin’. So... if you could grab a cab home, that’d be great.” 

Her stomach twisted.

Peter fixed her with an apologetic grin that was half-cringe, as if he was still attempting some level of charm without any kind of real remorse. 

“Just hit me up on Venmo,” he added, as if their relationship was some transaction. Like selling an old couch on Craigslist. He suddenly looked alarmed, glancing at the officers around him, then added, “For the cab fare! Not the... y’know, anything we did last night.”

Mortification hit her like a truck. He simply wrinkled his nose and shrugged, then glanced away. He didn’t look back.

Honey wanted to vomit. She lacked the air in her lungs to respond in words. Instead, she responded with a brokenhearted, glazed-over expression of shock and horror.

“Bullshit,” Captain Stacy said, eyes narrowed between Peter and his mistress. “Don’t play games with me, Parker. I know who she is.”

Peter blinked at his estranged father-in-law, completely daft. “Really?” He glanced back in her direction, avoiding her eyes, then to George again. “Wait. She’s not your daughter, is she?!”

“No!” the man replied, his face turning red.

Peter sighed. “Thank God. That woulda been so weird.”  

“Don’t bullshit me, Parker!” the police captain growled. “This woman is just as culpable as you are!”

“Really, Captain Stacy,” Matt added, skeptically. Doubt was slowly overtaking the room. “You can’t honestly believe that this, uh... um—” The lawyer cleared his throat, “—Mr. Reilly’s guest—is somehow useful to your case?” He scoffed with a laugh. “Or that she’s of any kind of consequence to my client at all?”

George pointed at the woman, who looked humiliated and near tears. “This woman is a witness, at the very least!” he barked. “She’s his girlfriend! His ‘Honey.’”

The way Peter raised one of his brows was almost comical, if it wasn’t so cruel. Incredulously, he glanced over at the devastated woman and snorted.

He looked back at George incredulously. “Seriously?” he scoffed. “Do you have any idea how many ‘Honeys’ I go through each month?”

The wince that followed could be felt throughout the whole room. Even strangers averted their eyes. 

The mob boss laughed cruelly. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s a great lay with a cute face. But that’s it.” 

A vein popped out of George’s forehead. The surrounding officers avoided eye contact, the situation becoming uncomfortable for everyone in the room. “This woman is practically an accomplice!” he bellowed, raising his voice loud enough to echo into the hall.

Peter gazed at him like he had two heads. “Accomplice?” He raised a brow. “You’re losin’ it, pops. I don’t even know her name.”

The pain was so sharp, she flinched. Like a stab to the back, or punch to the gut. A slap in the face. Her stomach lurched. Eyes blurred. She wanted to scream and vomit and die.

And still, she wanted Peter to look at her. To give her some kind of indication that this was all just a ruse.

Instead, he kept George fixed in his gaze, watching the sweat bead on the police captain's forehead as his outrage flared.

“‘Sides,” Peter taunted, licking his lips like a dog. “You know my type.”

The man’s eyes shot back to Peter, flashing red.

“That reminds me,” the mob boss grinned, a lewd twinkle in his eye. “How’s Helen?”

At the mention of his wife, George’s face dropped. His eyes went wide, the color vanishing instantly. The grown man lunged across the room with a growl. His hands were wrapped around Peter’s neck in the blink of an eye, practically tackling the cuffed criminal to the ground.

A ruckus of shouting, grabbing, and grunting broke out as George’s colleagues physically restrained him from continuing to choke Peter. 

The melee suddenly came to a halt when an authoritative male voice shouted out from the doorway, “What the hell’s going on here?”

The humorless tone snapped the whole group into order. The doorway was shadowed by the silhouette of a tall, broad-shouldered man with dusty blonde hair wearing a tailored suit. He was older, possibly in his 70s, and judging by the way the officers tensed up as he strode into the room, he outranked them. 

“Anybody want to tell me what the problem is?” the man ordered, keeping his tone soft.

“Well, I’m missing a shirt, for one,” Peter complained. “And if you plan on takin’ my picture, I gotta tell ya, I don’t go topless. Least not for free.”

Matt spun towards the authoritative presence, infuriated. “Commissioner Pierce,” he greeted him firmly, with a faint tone of relief. “Your officer just attacked my client while he was restrained in handcuffs. Respectfully, I request that he be removed immediately from the premises.”

The Commissioner’s eyes roved from Murdock to George Stacy, who was still panting wildly, hair disheveled, and shirt askew.

“Captain Stacy, you’re dismissed,” the man declared. Just like that, it was over. Not even the SHIELD agents attempted to argue. George opened his mouth to protest, but Pierce silenced his rebuttal. “That is all,” he said calmly.

George snapped his mouth closed, stunned at the turn of events. He gulped down rage, and jerked himself free of his fellow officers’ grip. Without another word, he spun on his heel and stormed out of the room. 

Now Pierce was in charge.

He gazed over at Peter, staring at the lanky man past the end of his nose. Pierce looked as if he was sizing him up. His eyes were cold and impersonal, like judging a cut of meat. Defiantly, Peter glared right back.

Matt stepped in, more sensitive to the man’s authority than Peter. “Commissioner Pierce, I appreciate you sharing my concern for a conflict-free investigation—”

“No need for posturing, Mr. Murdock,” he answered. There was a sophisticated nature to Alexander Pierce that the others were incapable of. “We can make this quick and easy. Your client’s coming with us. Gentleman, please, kindly escort Mr. Reilly from the room.”

“So... no shirt then?” Peter remarked, before being 'pulled' along by the beat cops at his sides. The other officers moved with him, filing out behind him. “Forget my lawyer!” the mob boss called back from the hallway. “You’re gonna hear from my agent!”

Pierce scanned the room like a shark through water, landing on the small, mortified woman in the back. Honey looked up to see Pierce’s eyes narrowed in on her. Matt remained close, and deep down, she knew it wasn't for her support. The tall man approached her, studying her intently. 

“So that just leaves you, then,” Pierce said. “Mr. Murdock, do you represent this young lady, too?”

Eyes glistening, she swallowed hard, focused on keeping the bile from crawling up her throat. 

“No, sir,” Matt stated, mouth twisted with a smirk. “In fact, I don't have a clue who she is. I’m pretty sure you could question every person in this house—you’d get the same answer.”

With a firm jaw, Pierce said to her, “Who are you?”

Fawn-like, she stared up at him, blinking wet lashes. “I... I’m....” Her mouth fumbled before forming the correct words. 

“I just make coffee.”

Continue to Part 23