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apocalypse-shuffle · 11 months

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PETER PARKER | SPIDER-MAN (tasm)

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“Break” (Peter Parker x Fem!Reader)

| You visit Pete to let off some stress and to get out of your own head. He’s more than happy for the distraction.

| NSFW, 18+, minors dni, cockwarming, oral (male receiving), spacing out, in a zoom meeting

| Picture source: Spider-Man: No Way Home (left) and The Amazing Spider-Man 2 (right)

| 1k+ words

You close your laptop only a little harshly, finally done with your work for the day. Now, you could read or do something else to decompress and rest your eyes from the strain of your computer screen, but something is pushing you towards your boyfriend in specific.

You know that - in a shocking twist of events - he’s working on a group project for one of his classes before the deadline and whilst not under threat of death, so you haven’t seen him in a few hours. He’s never rejected your presence as long as you weren’t disruptive though, so? You shrug and walk off towards his room. No harm in testing it out. You feel the tiniest bit deprived of your Peter and you want to give your mind a break anyway.

When you poke your head around the bedroom door he turns to you languidly, no startling and no obvious irritation on his face. Considering he likely heard you traveling towards him you’d take all that as a good sign. You nod to yourself and walk in, carefully clicking the door shut.

He taps his pen absentmindedly against the scarcely filled notebook by his hands.

“What’s up?” his voice is soft and he gives you his usual bright utterly smitten smile that makes you want to die (in a good way). “Class go well?”

You smile just as sappily back at him and revel in the way it makes him soften even more.

“It was alright.” You incline your head as he chuckles. “I could use some of your company though. You know, if it’s not too much to ask?”

“Ooof - I don’t know? My schedule’s pretty packed. I’ll have to check with my assistant to see if there’s any way I can move some things around.” He takes a second to unmute to declare he’s still present, apparently on hold because of complications on somebody else’s end. He beckons you over right afterwards though, grinning. “Well lucky you, Pretty Girl, it seems like I can squeeze you in. You have something to do?”

You shrug, leaning against the door.

“I have four hours to waste, which means I have four hours to relax. If you wanna fuck around some?”

His eyes widen briefly before he starts hurriedly moving things around.

“Oh,” he breathes. He knows exactly how you like to fuck around when your stressed. “Like right now, you mean? Cause I uhh-”

The moment you slip off your shorts Peter’s tongue catches. All he can do after that is look at you wide eyed for the entire time it takes you to cross the room to his desk. He only snaps out of it when you’re kneeling in front of him and running your hands up his thighs.

He makes a choked noise, hand jerking up to cover his mike and pull it away from his mouth even with it already being off. He scrambles to click his camera off a second later too.

“Are you sure?”

He whispers it like a kid with an especially juicy secret about stuff that was only really drama to people below the age of twelve, and you laugh, shrugging.

“I mean if you’re sure then yeah. You’re the one who’s on call right now.” Your lips purse after that as a thought strikes you and you shake your head.

Honestly, that was pretty sound reasoning to not keep going so you switch gears, standing and starting to move for the living room again.

“Or maybe we shouldn’t. I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ve seen you sit down to work with those people since the semester started,” you throw over your shoulder.

Peter’s chair squeaks as he pushes it back.

“No no no, get your pretty self back here.”

The telltale thwip of his web-shooters sounds a moment before webbing hits your side and you’re being spun around. The yelp you let out turns quickly into laughter as Peter comes back into view while reeling you in.

“That’s not a very responsible use of your powers, Spider.”

Peter grins, arms circling your lower half, and you wrap your hands around his forearms to stabilize yourself.

“Oh really? You know what I think is irresponsible?”

“What?” you mock softly.

Peter chuckles and the hands on your hips squeeze, pulling you even closer. Pressed flush together he places a short kiss to your lips and you can’t not let out a tiny sigh at that.

“You being a tease when you know I can’t get enough of you.” Peter leans in and kisses you a little longer this time. When he pulls back away his eyes are twinkling and his pupils are a little blown, “Please can you get back on your knees for me? I mean you’ve got your pants off and everything, it'd be a real shame to waste that.”

“A shame. Really?”

Peter nods fully serious at your dubious tone.

“Yeah, worth shedding a few tears over. You want me to cry in front of all these people, Pretty Girl? Cause I will.”

That, that overdramatic lilt to his voice, has you rolling your eyes and sucking your teeth. “Just hurry up and sit down - but know I'm not taking any crap for how low your group participation rating is gonna be.”

Peter’s smile is blinding, “Totally fair,” he nods. A second later he swoops in to kiss you some more, leading you back to his desk without coming up for air and then darting around to move all his stuff around to make room for you.

“Give me a second to finish this module then I’m all yours, K?”

His voice is rushed as he’s looking at you with obvious interest and you nod, you could wait a few extra minutes. Especially considering that you could act annoyed with him all you wanted, but at the end of the day this had been your idea first; he was accommodating you.

You kneel on the carpeted floor, hidden under the desk you’d gifted him after riding the subway with it balanced on your head.

When you’re settled down there you wait maybe five minutes for him to say a portion of his piece before deciding it’d be way more fun to fuck with him a little. You smile up at him, making sure to catch the panic that flashes across his face, before leaning in and ghosting the tip of your nose over where you know his cock is hiding in his shorts.

You make eye contact, “Can I?”

Peter’s leg jumps and the rest of his sentence comes out in a rushed choked up jumble.

That soft needy question you pose is apparently all the incentive he needed to let you start before he’s finished presenting though because in a second he’s reaching his hand back for one of his pillows and dropping it down for you to kneel on. You do so with a small chuckle and a “thank you.”

He’s trembling and giving you the most eager looks in between participating, voice mainly only keeping steady because you’ve stopped trying to distract him. Now you just want him in your mouth, no mischief needed. Though he is still fidgeting; partially because he knows if the inclination struck you you could easily embarrass the hell out of him. All that vigilante shit be damned Spider-man may be ingurigable but Peter’s greatest weakness was you.

You laugh and move to pull his pants down his thighs with his assistance. Once he’s free to your satisfaction you brush the lightest kiss to his happy trail. He sighs, meeting your gaze intermittently as he talks through his turns. In response you trail featherlight kisses down to his cock, which is steadily hardening for your consideration, kiss at his base and then travel down to lick over his balls.

His voice stutters harshly over his next sentence and you smile before pulling away. He gives you this aggrieved desperate look, making as if he’s about to start complaining you, but you wave him off.

“Easy baby,” you mouth right before making him gasp by kissing his tip and then wrapping your lips around his head.

You keep your pace easygoing as Peter stutters and stops over his words; as he trembles against you, dick twitching while you slowly engulf him.

You wring your first moan out of him when you’ve gotten him all the way down your throat, mind steadily blanking on anything other than the weight of him on your tongue and the slight twinge in your jaw, when the back of your throat swallows over his head and you hum happily.

His head drops down and his hand clumsily snaps out to mute his microphone.

“O-oh, oh my god. It’s like you’re trying to kill me -fuck,” he groans.

You barely hear him, have no clue that when he moaned that he nearly did it for everyone to hear. You're just losing yourself in the sensations. The way he pulses in your mouth, the occasional twitch as he struggles not to fuck into your throat, how your jaw feels, the stretch of your lips, and then the drool running clear like polished glass down your chin and dripping onto Peter’s balls.

You sigh, going limp against him when his hand moves to your head. He burrows his fingers into your thick curls to get a firm grip but doesn’t do anything else. You swallow around his cock again in thanks, only in tune with the way it makes him shift against you. In the strangled noise he makes. The fact he’s on call isn’t even a factor any more; just his pleasure and how he feels in your mouth.

Your eyes flutter shut happily as he scratches blunt nails against your scalp.

“God baby,” he gasps and you whine just the tiniest bit, pussy twinging between your legs. Your hands don’t move from their position in your lap though.

Peter’s got you. The thought echoes in your mind nicely as you hand over control. You don’t have to worry about anything else but him.

- - -

Peter curses above your head, completely unregistered by you, and then rushes to get himself excused. You’re making him feel very good and for that you deserve all his attention - and boy does he want to give it. Plus, you dropped so fast that he’s a bit worried about you; it typically took way more coaxing from him to get you so completely out of your own head like this.

He’s extra careful with his movements as he logs off and shuts down his setup, but eyes draw fully to you once he’s done and don’t leave. You were too pretty like this, face relaxed like it only ever was in sleep with your lips stretched to accommodate his girth.

He brushes his free hand over your face when he shifts too much for your liking and you let out an utterly disparaging whine.

“Shh, Pretty Girl, it’s alright. You’re doing so good for me, you know that? I’ve got you I promise,” he grinds forward the smallest bit, moaning when you squeeze down. “So so good.”

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!

I plan on posting spider-verse fics soon but since I’ve been working on this TASM!Spidey one I decided to go ahead and post it first.

Mind any inconsistencies/typos pls! I’ll get to them eventually.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it. this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

729 notes · View notes

inkdrinkerworld · 4 months

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tasm!peter parker with a reader that hates christmas and always gets kinda down about the season but then peter takes them to spend christmas with him and may?? anyway love your blog!! happy christmas!

Thank you angel! Happy Christmas to you too :)

Peter is on a mission to make this a great Christmas season for you and despite your usual Grinch behaviour, it’s working.

You’re both in May’s kitchenette, rolling pin in your hand and cookie cutter in Peter’s while Aunty May deals with the meat.

You’re smiling and humming along to the music not because you particularly like it, but because you feel light around the entire idea of celebrating Christmas with these two people.

Peter watches amazed as he stamps snowmen and snowflakes into the dough- he knew all you needed to do was something fun and what’s more fun than having a flour fight and then making Christmas cookies?

“I can feel you staring at me, Parker.”

He flushes, cheeks hot as he refocuses on cutting out cookies. “I just like that you’re not frowning anymore, Grinchy.”

You roll your eyes but before you can retaliate, May snaps a kitchen towel on his shoulder.

“That’s not nice Peter. Plus, the Grinch ended up loving Christmas in the end.”

You nod, “Yeah, who knows I might actually have gotten you gifts.” He chuckles. “Or maybe I’ll steal Christmas in the night- guess you’ll have to wait to find out.”

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rancidpancakebatter · 1 year

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Love n' Locs | {P.P.}

Pairings: MCU!Peter Parker x Black!Female!Reader

Summary: Peter, your love, helps you with your hair. (Takes place after nwh)

Word Count: 4.4k words

Content Warnings: Minors DNI Smut (female receiving), shower sex, multiple orgasms, swearing, May's death is mentioned briefly but nothing graphic, tooth-rotting fluff that made me cry while writing it

( Masterlist )

A/N: HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH!!! I PROMISE TO BE AS INSUFFERABLE AS POSSIBLE!!! (and also to not write angsty black!reader fics during this time because we have suffered enough. Only Joy <3 )

You had the sweetest boyfriend in the whole world. He was so lovely and entirely devoted. He brought you flowers. He knew your favourite foods. He gave you hoodies and kisses when you were down. He held you close and listened intently. He encouraged you to chase your dreams and held your hand when you got scared.

You had never known love like this before. The kind that steals your breath every day. But that was just who Peter was. You would never get enough of him- but what was even more amazing, you know he feels the same.

He was a white boy, and you loved to tease him about his previous love interests. He always got a rosy blush when you called him a “snow bunny,” but he never got offended, recognising that you were only joking. He would sometimes call you his “melanated queen,” but only when making fun of people who did so sincerely.

He was refreshing in that sense. You had been around more than enough “woke” people who weirdly worshipped your blackness, but not Peter. He celebrated it; he celebrated you.

Race wasn’t something that came up often between you. He would listen to your frustrations as they arose, but he never commented on the fact that you were black.

He never fetishized or tip-toed around you. Peter was a genuine ally, never feeling like he had to make a show of how much he believed your life mattered. He just supported and only acted when you asked him to. He may have a hero complex, but he didn’t suffer from the white saviour complex, and for that, you were grateful.

You woke up this morning feeling almost overwhelmed by that gratitude. Peter was asleep, his curls strewn about the pillow. You had convinced him to grow them out. You promised to play around all day with his hair, finding the right products and creams to use. He agreed because he loves it when you play with his hair.

His lips were slightly parted, plush and pink. A smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose glows in the early morning sun. They were very subtle, almost imperceptible unless you got the opportunity to track them down, inches from his face. You were happy to say you got that opportunity often.

Basked in light and in your arms is where he belonged. Not on the streets, fighting crime. He deserved to rest. He was exhausted last night. His eyes were half closed as he clambered out of his suit, tripping on the feet. He only agreed to a shower when you offered to join. You would have joined regardless, but there was no way in hell this man was climbing in your sheets covered in soot.

“I can feel you staring.” A small smirk pulled at his lips though his eyes remained closed.

You didn’t respond with words, instead deciding to pepper his sweet face with kisses. You felt his smile grow as you went, until it fell into a full-on laugh.

You swear his laughter had a direct line to your heart, the sound filled you, and your heart swelled to adjust. His hands found purchase on your hips and rolled you over until he was on his back and slotted between your thighs. His favourite place to be.

“You’re just so nice to look at, so handsome,” You tease.

You continue in your ministrations, your lips painting a path from his jaw to his cheek, his eyelids and his brows, up his forehead and down the bridge of his nose. All while cradling his face. Holding him like he was your most precious possession. Something deserving of the Louvre or the Tate. You poured out your love, letting it seep into his soft, golden skin.

While Peter was a giver, he struggled to receive. You took any opportunity to remind him how much you loved him, how much you appreciated him. You felt his deft fingers worm their way under your sleepshirt, where they fronted an attack.

“Pete!-”

You collapsed against his chest as your body racked with giggles. He flipped you around again, and you could do nothing as he continued to tickle you.

“Pe-Pete, no!”

His hands stilled but held you firmly. You slowed your breathing and finally opened your eyes. They were met with glowing stars, burning bright and filled with adoration. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, feeling flustered by his unabashed gaze.

He only chuckles as he pulls you up to sit in his lap. His hands move to your back, painting soothing circles across your skin. You melt into the touch. You get hit with another wave of love, feeling it pulse against your ribcage. You begin leaving kisses across his neck, trailing across his collarbones. Peter takes the time to work his hands up your sides, massaging the muscle as he goes. You truly are putty in this man’s hands.

You find yourself on the other side of his neck, releasing a sweet sigh as his hands worked over your shoulders. His hands move to your neck, focusing on any knot he finds until they’re all gone.

You wrap your arms around his waist, pulling yourself closer and encouraging him to keep going. He removes your bonnet, setting it to the side, and massages your scalp. This was heaven. You moan at the feeling, and Peter chuckles.

“I really should be doing this for you.” Your words are muffled and slurred, but you know Peter hears them.

“Eh,” He shrugs, “it’s black history month.”

You both fall into a fit of laughter. Eventually, his hands disappear from your scalp, reappearing under your chin. You let it guild you, bringing you face-to-face with him. His smile is lazy and warm.

“Do I get any real kisses this morning?” You tilt your head to the side and pretend to ponder it.

You let out a dramatic sigh, though, with your wide smile- you fool no one. “I guess you’ve earned it.”

Kissing Peter was one of your favourite pastimes. In a perfect world, your lips would only feel his skin. Always attached in some way. But these kisses were your favourite. The kind where your smiles get in the way. The slow and steady kind, where there’s all the passion but none of the rush. You simply get to be, enjoy, and love. His are soft and sure.

You feel safe here in his hands, treasured. Your arms rest lazily around his neck, your nails tracing shapes on his back. Peter tilts his head, deepening the kiss. His tongue swipes at your lips, and you don’t hesitate to part them. It dances with yours and makes you dizzy. You get lost in it for a moment before you pull away. Peter whines, and you can’t help but laugh at his little pout.

“Sorry, bub, I got a full day ahead of me, and I need to get started.” He squeezes your waist, and you jump as your nerves alight, sending those familiar giggles to your brain.

“But it’s your day off,” he says through his frown. “And mine…we get the whole day together.”

You lay a quick kiss on his jutted lip, “Yeah, but it’s wash day. And I wanna braid it out. That’s gonna take all day.”

Peter hangs his head in defeat for a moment before it shoots back up. He beams, sitting up straighter as he presents his idea. “I could help.”

Scepticism falls on your brow, “You wanna help…?”

He looks at you as if you’ve issued a challenge. “What? You don’t think I can?”

You laugh as you link your hands behind his neck. “I think you can; I just don’t think you understand the commitment you’re making. It takes me upwards of nine hours to do my hair.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and resting his chin on your chest. Your hands run through his hair as he gazes up at you like you hung every star in the night sky. “Well, I’ll be here, and you’ll be here, so I might as well help.”

You couldn’t argue with that logic.

“Peter, when you said you’d help, I didn’t think you meant like this.”

You were currently in the shower with your boyfriend pressed against you. His hands trailed up and down your stomach as he pressed sweet kisses down your neck. You felt his lips tug at the side, a smirk you knew well.

“Don’t worry about me. You can wash your hair, just pretend I’m not even here.” His lips find the spot that makes you shudder. He holds you closer, knowing your legs weaken when he does that.

“That’s not fair; you’re very distracting,” you retort as your hand reaches up to tangle in his hair.

Pete’s hands find your hips and give them a firm squeeze. He knew you loved it when he showed off how strong he was. He was playing you like a fiddle, but you couldn’t bother to be mad.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Peter knew the answer. He caught the way your pulse quickened when he suggested you shower together. He heard your breath hitch when he took off his pants. He could smell you even as he lathered you with soap. You just liked to tease; you liked to act tough. But your bravado quickly crumbled for him. And he loved that. That your gentleness, your piety, was only for him.

“No”

It left your mouth in a puff of air. So soft and sweet, whispered with the water. Peter wasted no time dipping a hand into your slit. His finger probed around, collecting your slick and teasing you further. His foot found yours and kicked it, spreading you apart farther. You moaned softly as he licked up the collum of your throat.

“All this for me?” He rubbed small circles on your clit, a small taste of what he could do, and you both knew it.

“It’s just the shower.” His other hand reached up, gripping you by the jaw and twisting your face towards him.

“I don’t think it is”

He picked up the pace and swallowed your moans. His pillowy soft lips devour you hungrily, and you can feel his hard-on in the crest of your ass. He rips away from your lips, and his hand goes to your boobs, pinching and pulling on your nipples. He enters you with one of his thick digits. He shows no mercy as he thrusts it into you, finding your g-spot in a matter of seconds. Peter knew your body well and loved reminding you of that.

He adds another finger, and your body involuntarily jerks, chasing Peter in all directions. He hisses as you grind against him. Your toes are curling, and the steam makes it hard to catch your breath. All too soon, he removes himself. You whine as your high is stolen from you.

He waits until your eyes are on him before he brings his fingers to his mouth. He hallows his cheeks around them before pulling them out with a soft pop and a moan. You watch with wide eyes as he runs his tongue across them, collecting every drop of your essence.

“You taste so good, baby.”

He presses his praise into your skin- down your neck and across your shoulders. He continues down a path, following the curve of your spine. He takes quite the bite out of your ass, causing you to yelp, before continuing to nibble on your thighs.

Your hand tries to grip the wall and provide you with balance, just his gentle touches making you shake with anticipation. He notices this and throws your legs over his shoulders, your back pressed gently against the cold tile.

“You okay, baby?” You try to slow your breathing, nails scraping against his scalp, the wet curls wrapping around your fingers.

“Yeah, I'm good.” Peter loved communication; it was important to him. Though often, he would steal your ability to string anything coherent together.

“Good, 'cause I haven’t had breakfast, and I’m hungry." He sent you a wink before disappearing between your thighs.

You let out a cry as he suckles your clit. His grip on your thighs is bruising as he spreads them farther apart, whipping his head furiously between them. You’re seeing stars.

This is a stark difference from the sweet kisses you shared this morning. This was need, hunger, a carnal desire. He was chasing your high as much as you were. He moved his tongue inside you, the pink muscle scraping against your walls. You ground your hips down, and you both moaned.

You, because your clit bumped his nose, a jolt through your nerves that brought you closer and closer to your peak. And Peter, because he loves when you get off to him like this. He loves that he gets to see you like this, on the brink of desperation and lost in desire. He loves that he can make you this way. That he’s the only one who can.

Eating you out is Peter’s favourite pastime. In a perfect world, he would spend every moment between your thighs, drinking from the fountain of you, never satiated.

He grinds his face into you, loving how you flutter around his tongue. He loved every way your body told him you loved this. It was like picking up a new language. He knew the meaning of every twitch, sound, and pulse. He was fluent in you.

He felt the way your thighs were shaking and knew you were right there, you just needed a little push, and he was happy to provide. He cages your leg against his shoulder as he reaches around and presses firmly against your clit.

“Fuck! Pete!”

You cry his name, and he thinks it’s his favourite sound. It spurs him on further. He only wants you to respond like that. He moves his thumb, spelling his name as if your brain would subconsciously pick up on it, and you would say it again. He’s fucking you with his mouth and marking you as his.

Your orgasm crashes through you, a broken moan ripping from your chest, completely overwhelmed by pleasure. Peter continues to fuck you through it, drawing it out for as long as he can. Wanting everything you had to give him. He really was hungry.

Your body convulses, your grip on his curls strong as you try to pull him away. This doesn’t dissuade Peter by any means. He knows you can cum again; he needs you to cum again.

Your pulling on his hair inadvertently brings him closer, and he revels in it. His mouth trades places with his fingers, giving your clit a small break from his brutal beating.

However, you don’t recognise it as a “break”. Your sensitivity sends your brain into overdrive, or underdrive- you weren’t sure. All thoughts were half-baked, and your muscles were moving of their own accord. You were glad Peter was there to hold you because there was no way you would have been able to support yourself.

“Pe-Peter! I-unghhh”

Peter had to fight his grin, knowing that he rendered your brain useless, only able to think of him and your high. There was truly no more beautiful sight. Your jaw slacked, as a cacophony of lewd sounds fell from your open lips. Your brows furrowed as you chase your peak. Your unfocused eyes, half-lidded, looking down, searching for him. Your body quaking around him. He wished he could capture this moment on camera, encapsulate this moment forever.

You pushed your hips forward in a final thrust, taking his fingers deeper and his unholy tongue pressing harder against your sensitive bud. This time you scream, nearly collapsing over. Peter brings a hand to your throat, keeping you upright while he drinks from your fountain.

He gently removes his fingers from your core, and you whine slightly, bringing a spirited smile to his face. He wrapped your legs around his waist, admiring your completely blissed-out face. You were so beautiful. In any way, but especially this way.

You rested your head in the crook of his neck, not caring that you were panting on your auditorily sensitive, always-way-too-warm, boyfriend. To be fair, he didn’t care either. He would suffer through anything to hold you like this. And it was deserved. He did kinda render you useless.

He laid a kiss to your temple and you hummed, cuddling into him more. “Alright, coach me through the washing.”

He listened intently as you told him how much product to use and where to massage it in. He was careful to try and keep all the shampoo on your scalp, heeding your warnings of drying out your curls. He was so tender and sweet. He was much gentler with your hair than you ever were.

He peppered you with kisses as he coaxed you under the shower head. Despite your recovery and your ability to stand once again, Peter refused to let you down. Keeping you wrapped around him like a koala or sloth. You couldn’t say you minded all that much.

Peter was most excited to brush your hair. He had never really gotten to do that, as you only ever did it in the shower. He felt proud that you trusted him to do it now. It felt intimate, special.

Sometimes he would get to brush May’s hair. It was long and beautiful, and when he was younger, she would let him if he asked. He would have her sit on the floor as he stood tall, bending at the knees to accommodate his short little arms. He missed those moments with her. He missed her. But in you, he found new things to miss, and he was forever grateful for that.

He continues to run the comb through your hair, even when the knots were gone, because he loved how you melted into him. You were practically purring, and it felt nice to take care of you for a change.

He couldn’t count how many times you had patched him up, made him food because he had forgotten to eat, checked up on him, or helped him through an existential crisis. You were always there for him, his rock. He would be lost without you.

The water started to get cold, so you begrudgingly left, feeling a little betrayed by your water heater for ruining such a wonderful moment. Peter only set you down then, but ordered you to stay on the bathmat. You chuckled as you watched him run, butt-ass naked, through the hall. When he returned, he held a few towels and worn shirts in his hand. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to his smile. It will always make your heart stutter.

“Arms up,” He directs and you follow.

He wraps a towel around you, and you can’t stop the satisfied sigh that leaves your mouth. It was warm and fluffy, almost enough to put you to sleep. Once he’s secured it around you, he gently moves your arms back to your sides and places a sacrosanct kiss on your lips. Your only complaint was that it was too short; your body naturally follows him as he pulls away.

He chuckles, “Steady sailor. We still got a lot of work to do. Can’t get distracted now.”

You lovingly swat at him, and he rewards you with a laugh, one that squishes his eyes and crinkles his nose. It takes everything in you not to kiss him silly. But it’s not your fault; he knows better than to look at you like that.

“I brought you these to choose from. I remember you telling me cotton is better for your hair. So, here’s three of my shirts to choose from, and whatever you don’t pick, we get to wear.”

You can’t help but beam at him. You felt absolutely spoiled. You weren’t sure what you did to deserve such royal treatment. Usually, this kind of behaviour was reserved for birthdays and other such occasions. Not a Thursday afternoon.

But you relished in it anyway, telling him which shirt you wanted to wear and which one you wanted to use. He kissed you on the nose as he passed them both to you.

You explain every step you take as you do them, even coaching Pete through some parts as you let him try it. Peter is amazed by all the products and smells. He’s a little embarrassed as he struggles through some steps; you work with such grace and ease. You explain that the steps are a little different because you’re styling your hair today, instead of enhancing your natural curls. Peter tries his best to commit everything to memory.

While you’re blowing out your hair, Peter leaves to make breakfast. You don’t really need his help for it, and honestly, the sound of the fan bouncing around the tiled walls was a bit too grating for him. As he whips up your favourite breakfast meal, he scrolls through google images, trying to get a better idea of what you were wanting to do.

He sees a lot of looks he thinks you would like, but one sticks out the most. He hadn’t really seen it before, but he thinks you would look absolutely stunning. He’s watching a tutorial when you enter the kitchen. He’s so engrossed in the video you startle him as you wrap your arms around him.

His spidey senses work differently around you, and that’s something he’s still figuring out. His best guess is it doesn’t warn him about you because there’s not a single bone in his body that sees you as a threat. You’re the only person since he was fourteen who could sneak up on him. You don’t often do it on purpose, either. And he thinks his body knows that too.

Usually, his “tingle” lays dormant unless there’s a general danger, but now it’s…evolved in a way. If he focuses, he can almost feel you. He can just think of you, and his body will tell him if you’re distressed and where you are. His instincts lead him like a compass- to you, his true north.

There have been more than a few times he rushed home to check on you just to see that you’ve dropped something or were watching a scary movie by yourself...again. He loved it, though. He had never felt so close to anyone before. He loved that there were no defences between you.

“Whatcha watchin'?”

Pete pauses the video before he turns in your arms.

“Have you heard of butterfly locs?” You grin, delightfully surprised.

"Yes, I have,” you say as you peck him on the nose. “Why?”

“Well, it’s your hair, and you can do whatever you want. And I’ll help no matter what you decide. But I think you would look absolutely gorgeous in them. And you can do fun colours or add funky charms. But also, I know you said you were planning on the box braids, and I’m unsure how easy it would be to switch up the plan like that.”

God, could you love this man anymore?

“It’s actually really easy. I still have to make a Sally’s run; I haven’t bought any hair yet. Do you wanna come with?” Peter nods his head fervently, and you can’t help but giggle at his excitement.

Pete is in awe of the selection here. He had no idea there were so many options. He excitedly asks questions, and you’re happy to answer all of them to the best of your understanding. He happily holds everything you pass him and even convince him to get some products for himself, like a hair mask and some mousse.

When you get home, Peter shows you the videos he watched and his strategy. He helps you section your hair and tries not to complain about the sticky gel too much. With his help, it doesn’t take nearly as long. You play around with the length and stylings, and once finished you’re very happy with it.

Peter was right; you look fine as hell. You check yourself out in the mirror and laugh when you catch Peter watching you from his seat on the bed through the reflection. He’s completely in his own world, his eyes ooze raw adulation, and you can’t help but feel a little flustered.

You walk over, slotting yourself between his legs. His hands come to rest on your hips, something he doesn’t even think to do. It’s just so natural. It’s where his hands belong.

“Do you like it?”

His expression never falters, as if he didn’t even hear you.

“Did you know that I am so in love with you? Like do you know? Because I am. So, so, very in love with you.”

You feel your cheeks warm, “Yes, I know.”

His dopey smile stretches, “I don’t think you do. But I’ll be sure to tell you until you’re sick of hearing it.”

Your heart is doing summersaults, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

He places a kiss to your sternum, “Well, I’ll do my very best.”

Suddenly you’re being pulled forward. You land directly on Pete, and if you weren’t aware of all his body was capable of, you might have worried about hurting him. Instead, you giggle at his antics and let him hold you tight.

Your new locs fall around his face, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so lucky. Here, hidden behind the curtain of your hair, it’s just you and him. You lay there for a while like that, just drinking the other in. It’s the perfect respite from all the chaos in the world. Your hearts beating together, your love flowing between you.

“I got you something,” Peter whispers.

There’s no need for anything louder in this proximity. “What?”

His hand leaves your waist, and you hear a familiar thwip, then the crinkling of a bag.

Peter opens his palm to you, and a small gasp leaves your lips. There rested a little charm; hung on a small ring. You picked it up and admired how it twinkled in the evening sun. A little spider, from your man. You sat up, looking in the mirror as you strung it through a loc.

“Petey, it’s perfect!”

“Not as perfect as you.”

Taglist: @barbecuetiddy, @heejinw0rld, @purple-amaranthe, @raajali3, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @secretaccountlol, @scorpiolystoned, @thatblackravenclaw, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

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c-nstantine · 10 months

Text

tasm!peter parker x black!reader hcs

I have a secret, tasm!peter is my favorite peter. anyhow....

this lanky white boy was so surprised when Y/N said that she liked him especially because they're from two different cliques

Y/N is the bubbly cheerleader and Peter was her nerdy best friend

He literally couldn't fathom how much she liked him, but she left him so many hints

She let him pick out her nail color, her next protective style, and what type of highlights she should get, and he was like 'This is normal best friend stuff'

It literally took her kissing him while they were studying for him to fully understand

"You like me?"

"Duh,"

They're so cute together

He lowkey hates when all the football players and basketball players try to talk to her but she doesn't give them the time of day

He tries really hard to be at all of her games and stuff before she knows that he's spidey

After she knows that he's spidey, she likes when he swings with her from rooftop to rooftop, it's romantic

It doesn't stop her from worrying about him though

On long nights after he's done patrolling, he stops by to see her, even if it's only for ten minutes

It brings her some kind of peace of mind

#x black!reader #black!reader #x black reader #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker headcanon #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x black!reader #c-nstantine

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bjtch-craft · 7 months

Text

"Can I make it up to you, please?"

Peter Parker x Black! Male reader

✩ Summary: Peter gets into an argument with the reader but makes it up to him...

✩ Word count: 2k

✩ Genre: Angst to Smut

✩ Request: Yes or No

✩ Warnings: Smut, crying, over stimulation (if you squint you'll see it), and (LIGHT) choking!!

✩Authors note: Sorry for disappearing for a while. School started again, and I wanna d!e already!!! Anyways this is my first attempt at writing smut, and it's so totally not proofread! So if there's any mistakes, please comment them so I can correct them.

"I don’t understand why you’re so mad at me!"

"Peter, I’m not fucking mad at you!"

Peter takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes with his wrist before placing them on either side of him, softly gripping at the sheets.

"Then why are you yelling at me?"

"I’m not-!" [Name] cuts himself off after hearing his tone. "I’m not yelling at you; I'm just... worried. Okay? Worried that one day you’ll meet your match or run into some crazy obsessed fan." He finishes his sentence with a softer tone.

"Well, you don’t have to be! Okay?"

"I know, but..."

"Is this about MJ?:

[Name’s] worried look is wiped away by Peter’s accusation and a look of shock forms.

"W-what? No!"

"Because it feels like it is! Is that why you meant by an obsessed fan?" Peter says, putting up air quotes while saying "obsessed fan. "

"That’s not what I meant!"

"Then what did you mean? Because to me, it seems like you’re upset; I’ve been hanging out with her more often. Jealous even."

"Oh my God, Peter, you’re un-fucking-believable! This isn’t about her or anything else; this is about me! And my concerns! You don’t even know how many times I’ve seen you go up against some big and how terrified I've been! Terrified that you’ll get seriously hurt or worse."

Peter lets out a scoff.

"So you’re just being overprotective now?"

[Name's] jaw dropped at the sentence that left Peter’s lips. He wasn’t sure how to react.

Peter and [Name] never argued, and even if they did, they’d get over it within a minute or two, but for some god-forsaken reason, Peter was being an absolute dick.

The energy in the room increased by ten as both of them (mostly [Name], of course) could feel the anger begin to sink in even deeper.

"Peter. What. The. Fuck! Is wrong with you today? I don’t know why you’re being like this!"

"Like what?"

"Like a dick! I don’t even know why you’re arguing with me; I’m just telling you my fucking concerns, and you have the fucking gall to call me jealous and overprotective."[Name] says, dragging out the word "Gall".

"And I’m just telling you how I feel too!"

[Name] didn’t know how to react; he felt hurt and could feel a sob begin to make its way up his throat. He gulped it down (that didn’t work; he ended up still crying later, but that’s later) he began to pull at the bottom of his shirt while looking at the floor.

"Peter… Can you leave?" [Name] said quietly.

"W-what?"

"I said," Can you leave," please?"

"Okay. Fine."

And with that, Peter stood up and made his way out the door, leaving [Name] standing there in silence, a tear threatening to fall from his eye. It wasn't an empty threat, and the tear fell. And fell. And fell. And fell.

Soon the sun set behind the tall buildings of New York, and the moon rose, casting a small bit of light into [Name's] room. [Name] sunk into his bed as he stared up at the ceiling, a million thoughts rushing through his brain.

Are we over?

Why was he mad at me?

Should I say sorry?

Should he say sorry?

Is it my fault?

No, it's his fault.

For sure.

Tap tap tap. [Name] sat up softly and looked towards his window, expecting to see the source of the sound. But there was nothing…

"Am I hallucinating? Can you even hallucinate sounds?" [Name] thought aloud.

Now, you can actually hallucinate sounds, but this wasn't a hallucination. Tap. Tap. Tap. [Name] got up from his bed, crept towards the window, and slid it open.

"Hello…? Why'd I say hello? That's basically a death wish if this was a horror movie. "

"Hi!"

[Name] jumped back from the window with a yelp. Before creeping back towards it and looking out it once again, but this time staring down to see a familiar blue and red suit.

Peter stood on the building's brick wall, looking up at [name], his arms crossed around.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah…"

[Name] backed up from the wall as Peter climbed inside with a smile on his face.

"Do you have anything I can change into, babe?"

[Name] let out a scoff.

"Babe! Don't babe me, dude. Are you seriously going to pretend that our argument didn't happen?

"Sorry! I thought you'd be a little calmer. But do you?"

[Name] walked to his closet, pulled out a sweater, made his way toward his dresser, grabbed a pair of sweats, and threw them at Peter.

Peter changed and threw the suit in a corner before sitting down on the mattress. And a somewhat awkward energy filled the room.

"I'm sorry… I am. I don't know why I was being such a dick! But I'm sorry for what I said." Peter looked down at the floor, unable to look at his boyfriend.

"Peter…"

[Name] wasn't sure what to say, and in situations like this (awkward, scared, and nervous), he often coiled his already-curled hair around his finger.

"I feel like such a shitty boyfriend."

[Name] placed his hand on Peter's cheek. "You're not a shitty boyfriend, though... You admit when you're wrong and understand why 6 wrong. That's legit one of the many reasons why I love you!"

Peter looked up at [name], nuzzled his face into his palm, and planted a soft kiss on his palm. [Name] ran his thumb over his pale cheek. It was a sweet moment that didn't last very long.

[Name] softly ran his thumb over the corner of Peter's soft lips. Peter adjusted his head and planted a kiss on the darker-skinned boy's thumb. [Name] smiled down at Peter.

"I love you, Peter..."

"I love you too."

[Name] pressed his finger against Peter's lip. He got the hint and opened his mouth, letting his boyfriend's thumb in. He looked up at [name] with innocent eyes as he bobbed his head up and down on his thumb.

"Jesus..." [Name] whispered out.

Peter came off his finger with a pop, his face turning a light pink.

"Can I make it up to you, please?"

[Name] nodded his head softly and backed up as Peter got up off the bed and kneeled in front of him.

"You can say no at any time, and I'll stop," Peter said with a smile.

"Same to you."

Peter reached up and pulled down [Name's] basketball shorts, dropping them to his ankles. Peter reached up and gently groped at the bulge in the other boy's boxers. Peter pulled them down with ease.

Peter stroked it gently, causing a soft whimper to release from [Name's] mouth as Peter's soft hands glided over his cock. Peter grabbed the base of [Name's] cock and gently licked the tip before taking it into his mouth. Peter looked up at [Name] as he slowly took more into his mouth, gagging a bit as he made his way towards the base.

[Name] reached down and placed his hand in Peter's hair, holding his head in place, making Peter gag as drool pooled out of the corner of his lips.

"Fuckkk! Peter, your mouth feels so good."[Name] moaned out.

Peter let out another gagging sound and tapped the side of [Name's] thigh, signaling for him to let go. And [Name] did Peter come off his cock with a pop and look up at him with a smile, a rope of drool connecting [Name's] tip to his lips.

"Are you okay, Peter?"

"Yeah. Fine." Peter said as he began to slowly stroke [Name's] dick.

He placed it back in his mouth and began to go back down on it. He bobbed his head up and down in a repeating motion as he reached into his sweats and pulled out his own cock and began jerking himself off.

Peter came off his dick and kitten, licked the tip, and placed it back into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.

"Agh, Jesus Peter" [name] whimpered out.

[Name] placed his hands on either side of his head and slowly began pulling his head further down on his shaft.

"I'm going to go a little rough. Is that okay with you?"

"Mmmm," Peter hummed in response, causing a soft vibration on [Names] dick, making him let out another moan.

[Name] gripped a handful of Peter's hair and began to pull his cock out of his mouth before slamming it back down his throat. Peter, still stroking his own cock, reached out and grabbed at [names] thighs for support.

[Name] strengthened his grip on Peter's head and began slamming his cock down Peter's throat harshly, causing drool to pool out of the corners of his lips.

"Ohhh God! F-fuck!"

Peter whimpered and whined around the length as tears filled his eyes, threatening to spill.

"MM~ MMM~" Peter whined out.

Peter jerked himself off at an even faster rate, chasing his climax. And he chased it, cumming all over his hands and floor.

"Aww, Pete...."

[Name] pulled his dick out of Peter's mouth, leaving him gasping for air.

"F-fuck~" Peter said in between breaths.

"Are you okay, Pete?"

"Mhm."

"You came... kind of fast."

Peter's pale face turned a soft pink as he ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the floor.

"Do you want to, like, you know, go all the way? You don't have to say yes." [Name] said, reaching down and lifting Peter's chin up to look at him.

"Yes, I want to do it."

[Name] reached down and pulled Peter up by his arm, smashing his lips against his. [Name] kicked off his shorts and boxers and began walking them toward the bed, lightly pushing Peter down. Peter reached out and gripped the collar of [Names] shirt, pulling him down with his lips, never breaking contact.

[Name] broke the kiss, placed a soft kiss on Peter's cheek, and started making his way towards his neck. Kissing down his jawline before softly biting his neck.

"Fuck~" Peter moaned out.

[Name] began sucking on the flesh and biting at it before licking over the bite. The warmth of [Names] tongue made Peter blush even more, making his already pink skin turn a deep scarlet. [Name's] hands traveled down Peter's body, slipping them up his shirt and feeling him up.

[Name] reaches out from under Peter's shirt and takes his cock in his hand, gently tugging at it. Peter let out a soft whimper at the feeling of [name's] warm hand.

"Is this okay?" [Name] says speeding up the pace.

Peter bites down on his bottom lip and nods his head.

With his other hand, [Name] begins to pull Peter's shirt up and begins placing soft kisses on his torso, making his way toward Peter's cock. Peter pulled his shirt off, making [Name] let go of his cock.

[Name] delicately kissed Peter's tip, spat in his hand, and began jerking him off once more. The sound of wet noses and whimpers filled the room.

"Does that feel good, Peter?"

"Mhm-ahh~ Fuck~!" Was all he could whine out as [Name] ran his thumb over his tip in a particularly hard motion.

[Name] let's go of Peter's cock and steadied himself on his knees, grabs the bottom of his shirt and pulls it off.

"Let me know if it hurts or if I'm going to be rough, okay?"

"Okay."

[Name] placed Peter's legs on his shoulders and steadied himself on the mattress before lining himself up with Peter's hole. Peter reached out and felt around on his boyfriend's bedside table until he felt a familiar wrapping.

"Here."

Peter handed him a condom. [Name] opened it and slid it over his dick and pushed into Peter slowly, wanting him to adjust to his size before moving.

Peter gripped the sheets and twisted them in his hands as he let out a soft moan.

"F-fuck~"

[Name] reached out and grabbed Peter by the waist and pulled him down on his cock. [Name] bottoming inside of Peter as he looked down at him to see his arm covering his face, his face somehow even pinker.

"Does this feel okay?"

"Mhm."

"Can you uncover your face? I want to see all the pretty little faces you make, Pete."

Peter's cock twitched at this, and a drip of precum made its way down his cock. Peter did as he was told, took his arm off, and looked up at the curly-haired boy.

"I'm going to start moving, okay? Let me know if it's too much or if you want to stop. I won't be mad, I promise!"

"Okay, I will."

[Name] began to roll his hips in and out of the pale boy, starting off with a slow pace to ensure he didn't hurt him. [Name] decided to test the limits and pulled out of Peter, making him let out a breathy gasp at the loss of friction before slamming back into him and producing another loud moan from him.

His face contorted into a mixture of pleasure and pain as his hands shot out and grabbed at [Names] shoulders as he rocked his hips into Peter.

"Aghh~ C- Can you go a little harder?'

[Name] listened to his question and sped up the pace, filling the room with the sound of a headboard banging and the sound of skin against skin. [Names] hands roamed down Peter's thighs until they reached his cock, took it in his hand, and began once again jerking him off at an irritatingly slow pace.

[Name] placed his other hand on the back of Peter's head and leaned in their lips inches apart. [Names] thrust slowed for a second before stopping all together.

"Why did you stop?" Peter said, his voice barely above a whisper.

[Name] closed the gap between them. Peter kissed back almost instantly and placed his hand on the back of [Names] head, tangling his fingers in his curls. [Name] began to thrust into him slowly and more gentle as the kiss deepened.

[Name] grabbed Peter's hands and placed them above his head, holding them in place and breaking the kiss in the process. His thrust quickened, and once again, the sound of skin against skin filled the room.

"Fu-fuck~ ugh!" [Name] moaned out.

His thurst became even harder as he chased his high. Peter could feel tears starting to fall from his eyes, not from pain but from pleasure. It was all too much. His ccok standing up straight twitched and shot ropes of cum all over his abdomen, painting that area of his body glossy white.

"I'm not too far behind," [Name] grunted out.

His thrust became sloppy, losing the rhythm as he tightened his grip on Peter's wrist.

"F-fuuck~"!

He let go of Peter's wrist, pulled out of him, and made his way to the floor. Peter got the idea quickly and knelt before sticking his tongue out as [Name] jerked himself off.

After one or two strokes, he came, shooting his load over Peter's face. Blotches of white landed on his lashes, chin, nose, forehead, tongue, and hair.

Peter swallowed the cum that had landed in his mouth and smiled looking up at [name] innocently.

"Jesus Christ, Peter, you're so pretty."

Authors note part 2!!!:

Okay so y'all I'm thinking of doing an Olivia Rodrigo type of story with Bad Idea, right? Should I do this???

Link to the song in case y'all haven't heard it yet!!!

#lgbtq #gay #peter parker x male reader #spiderman x male reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x male reader #smut #peter parker smut #peter parker x black!reader #Peter parker x Black male reader #idk man #Is this even good #Spotify

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harryspet · 2 years

Text

butterfly kisses | p.parker

[Warnings] dark!grey!peter parker x reader, innocent!little!reader, daddy!caregiver!peter, dominant x submissive, blackwidow!reader, avengers compound/young avengers au, ddlg, age regression, oral sex (female recieving), dubcon!! sex, mental manipulation, reader has ptsd, grooming?, unprotected sex, little editing

A/N: [model in banner is @/enchanted_noir, gif credit to @/defendingwarrior]

In which Peter finds out your little secret and takes advantage.

word count: 5.3k

taglist: @cherienymphe @lovelynerdytraveler @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayonegg-blog @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes @watercoolerpaint @disaster-rose @slutforsebstan @doozywoozy @oneoftheprettynerds @xoxonotme @winterbuckystan1917 @simpformarvelmenandwoman @hallecarey1

main masterlist

Yelena was practically unstoppable, giving both Bucky and Sam a run for their money. She was faster than them, leaving them spinning whenever she rushed past them. They thought they had her at one point, Bucky’s vibranium arm wrapping around her neck. She was quick to bring her elbow back into his chest and then her fist to his groin. Bucky doubled over but Sam quickly approached with fists raised. She seemed to land all her punches but also take each one that Sam landed with the most grace you’d ever witnessed.

She tried to trip him, kicking her legs behind his own, but he brought her down with him. They rolled together before he had her pinned beneath him. She thrusted her lower body up, weakening his stance, before grabbing his own arm, pushing it against his chest and pushing him into the mat. As Sam’s head hit the ground hard, he’d clearly accepted defeat.

“The groin shots are cheap, Belova!” Bucky was still reeling in pain. She eyed you, a tired smirk on her face, as she took in her victory.

“It’s only fair. You’ve got a hundred pounds on me and I’ve got the ability to kick you in the balls,” You smiled at her words, watching as Yelena helped Sam off the ground.

You heard footsteps beside you and soon you were looking to your left as Peter Parker claimed the space beside you, “Did you see that?” The question became rhetorical as you noticed his wide eyes and the way he was staring at Yelena, “That was just the third round. So far Yelena’s in the lead.”

“Damn,” Peter cursed though it wasn’t very intimidating on his lips. You only really saw him as the kind, sweet guy who charitably helped you and Yelena adjust after moving to the new compound, “Are you gonna go next?”

You instantly shook your head although you realized your answer might seem strange considering the sports bra and leggings you were wearing. You’d put on workout clothes but hadn’t quite gotten the courage up to train yet, “Yelena is way better hand to hand than me,” It wasn’t a lie but you’d spent your entire life training hand to hand. You grew up in The Red Rom just like she had and were trained by the exact same people. You’d gone toe to toe with Yelena as well and you used to be able to hold your own with her.

The look on Peter’s face was curious, like he wanted to know more, but he didn’t press the specific topic, “I was gonna box and I’m in need of a sparring partner if you’d like to help me out,” That didn’t give you much room to turn him down so you nodded hesitantly.

You hadn’t told anyone, only Yelena vaguely knew how much you were frightened of the training room. This place wasn’t at all like the Red Room, you weren’t being beaten or mind controlled into submission. Despite all that, you were afraid of going into survival mode and never being able to escape it again.

“It’ll be low pressure, I’m way less intense than those guys,” Peter continued, placing a hand on your shoulder, as if he sensed your unease, “Plus, I need way more practice fighting without the webs. I get so used to being in the air sometimes that I forget how to manage on my feet.”

You followed him to the wall on the far right that held all the equipment. You eyed a set of white, 12 ounce fighting gloves but Peter stopped you before you could grab them, “First, jump rope,” He held two sets of jump rope in his hand. One set black and the other green, “What color?”

“I like green,” You admitted and that seemed to amuse him.

“Y/N!” You heard your name shouted across the room. You turned to see Yelena wrapping a towel around her neck, water bottle in hand, “I’m gonna go pass out but movie night later with Kate?”

You raised your thumb, “Enjoy your nap, I’ll see you later!”

“Enjoy Peter, I’ll see you later,” She winked very badly before she turned on her heel.

You turned back to Peter, your face warm with embarrassment, “She’s funny,” Peter commented.

“When she’s not being annoying,” You responded, taking both handles of the rope and stretching it out before you, “Annoyingly clever and annoyingly good at everything.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, “I heard Miss Nat recommended you both for positions in the new Avengers initiative.”

You shrugged, “So?”

“So, that means you’re probably annoyingly clever and good at everything too. You just haven’t shown everyone yet.”

“Maybe so,” Those words were all you’d give up to him. He probably had a point but this environment didn’t really allow for deep thinking for you. You thought you might turn around at any moment and see rows and rows of brainwashed agents behind you.

You followed his lead and his pace as he began to skip the rope. You weren’t in your best shape, you could feel it already, but you were keeping up. At first, you regretted choosing to stand directly in front of him but the eye contact slowly became less awkward, “This is kinda easy, Peter” You admitted.

“How. Are you. Speaking. So Easily?” Peter spoke through gasping breaths. Soon, you were increasing your pace as you felt you could go faster. You ended up going way faster than Peter, spinning in circles, as you tried cool tricks.

Peter was trying to keep up with your pace but eventually he had to stop, holding on to his knees as he tried to catch his breath. You slowed down soon after, not wanting to be any more of a show off, “So I was right,” He decided, “You’re good at that.”

You hated the work you used to do but you were reminded of how much you liked the adrenaline rush that came with being physically active. You were far from how you used to be but perhaps the world didn’t need another trained killer, just someone trying her best.

After your warm up, you and Peter went on to actual boxing. You went back and forth with one person holding the punching mitts while the other practiced combinations. This exercise reminded you of the time you lost to one of the other widows in a sparring match. You were taught the importance of being fast on your feet so your opponents blows can’t land effective blows as well as how to land an effective blow despite having a short reach. She made you chase her around the mat, exhausting you, so she could overtake you.

The punishment for the loser was always for every other widow to form a line and one by one land a punch to the loser’s stomach. You remembered the different colors of bruises that your stomach turned and how your mouth tasted like blood for days. The times when you were forced to hurt someone else were even more imprinted in your mind.

Peter realized you weren’t giving it your all, your mind clearly having gone elsewhere, “Hey, hey,” He put down his hands, closing the gap between you. As he came closer, and despite the kind look on his face, your anxiety went through your roof, “What’s wrong? That was good!”

You nodded, “Yeah, I-I just got distracted . . . sorry.”

“That’s okay. You wanna take a break?” You were already taking off your gloves.

“I think that’s enough for me today,” You spoke curtly, stepping away from him. You knew you’d start hyperventilating soon and you didn’t want anyone to see the person you turned into when you were stressed, “Thanks for this, P-Peter!”

His concerned eyes were on you as you walked, a little too fast, away from him.

“Yelena! I told you I didn’t want to watch this!” You pushed her shoulder as she maniacally giggled. After a jumpscare, you’d completely spilled your bowl of pretzels and M&M’s which Kate was now on the floor cleaning up.

“What? That wasn’t even scary!”

You didn’t understand how a movie about a party clown killing a bunch of school aged children wasn’t nightmare material. Kate clearly didn’t like the movie either but she wasn’t nearly as skittish as you, “I’m picking next time,” Kate announced, “Something we would all actually like.”

“No fun,” Yelena pouted, rolling herself off of your bed. You all rotated who would host movie nights and tonight it took place in your room. You were always an accommodating host, having crochet each of the girls their own special blankets, and lined your dresser with bowls of their favorite snacks. Fairly lights flicker above your bed but the cozy nature of your room served as a sharp contrast to the movie you watched on the screen mounted across the room.

“I want something romantic,” You argued, “Maybe a rom com or a historical romance like Pride and Prejudice.”

Yelena rolled her eyes.

“How about a romantic thriller?” Kate asked you, ignoring the blonde assassin’s usual behavior. You nodded eagerly, “Okay, cool. I’ll do some research!”

“I think it’s time for me to turn in,” Yelena faked a yawn.

Kate grabbed her arm, dragging her towards the door, “C’mon grumpy. Night, Y/N!”

You waved her goodbye, hearing Yelena shout as she was dragged out of the room, suddenly chipper again, “Night, Y/N!”

You enjoyed spending time with your friends especially now that you and Yelena had become so close to Kate. When they were gone, you missed their company but you knew you needed your nights to yourself. You began your nightly routine, switching the TV from the credits of a horror movie to the Disney logo.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Lock bedroom door, please,” After hearing the click of the lock, you released a deep breath, “And run a bath, please.”

You cleaned up any remnants of your friends, folding up their blankets and placing them inside the ottoman near your couch. You kept all the tools for your regression in a secret compartment of your closet. You knew it was unlikely that someone would go rummaging through your personal belongings but you liked the security of F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s system.

Picking out pajamas for yourself, you chose a pink, care bear onesie and pink socks. You laid it out on your bed before getting undressed. When you finally got to sink into the bath, you felt the stresses of the day melt away. It was a bubble bath, of course, and you loved the mindless task of constructing figures with them and giving yourself mustaches and crowns.

You were already slipping into your headspace. You’d desperately wanted to be here especially after training with Peter.

After your bath, you were now trying to practice your skin care in front of the mirror. For years, you barely looked at yourself in the mirror, thinking it would be easier to live with yourself if you dehumanized yourself as much as possible. It was rare that you’d let your eyes wander to your lower stomach where you could see the straight incision scar that traveled from beneath your belly button to your public area. Your own exposure therapy didn’t seem to be working as tears sprung in your eyes everytime.

You left the bathroom, deciding that you’d braid your hair into a protective style without a mirror. You dressed in your pajamas, grabbing your favorite stuffed animal, a green frog, and burrowing yourself into your sheets. Tinkerbell was playing on the television and at the end of the movie, when Tinkerbell helps bring spring to the mainland, almost always helped sink you into your headspace even deeper.

It was the middle of the night and you should’ve been sleeping but you had a craving for ice cream. You’d set a rule that you’d always stay in your room when you were in little space but little you often had a mind of her own. You padded to the door, softly asking Friday to open the door, before you checked if the coast was clear. In your pink socks, you tiptoed to the kitchen, holding Prince Naveen close to your chest.

The compound was quiet and you assumed each of the other Avengers were either fast asleep or keeping to themselves. You never knew Tony Stark but you were quite grateful for his technology … and his money. You weren’t sure what kind of life you’d be able to make for yourself if you didn’t have this opportunity.

You rummaged through the freezer, finding a half-eaten container of sherbert ice cream. The color was pink like your onesie so it was a no brainer that you’d choose this to dig into. You shut the freezer before finding a big spoon in one of the drawers. You climbed onto the kitchen counter, making yourself comfortable, as you began to dig in.

“Y/N?” You perked up to see a brown eyed boy staring at you from across the kitchen. He was dressed in a compression shirt and sweatpants, the former highlighting an extremely muscular chest and arms. His figure was even more exaggerated as he crossed his arms. He grinned at you, taking in your appearance, “Is this something Yelena made you wear?”

You frowned, confused, “I’m Love-a-lot Bear.”

Peter looked even more confused than you, “Oh . . . and who’s this guy?” He came closer and you felt a bit annoyed that he was interrupting your ice cream eating. You scooped a bite into your mouth, kicking your legs in happiness as you tasted the deliciousness.

You looked down at the frog stuffie sitting beside you, “Prince Naveen. He got turned into a frog but I’m taking care of him.”

“Like in that movie …” He raised an eyebrow.

You nodded, “Princess and the Frog. Have you seen it?”

“Once, I think.”

“I’ve seen it about …” You calculated it in your mind, “Fifty-four times. I can quote it word by word. Do you want to hear? The Evening Star is shining bright, so make a wish and hold on tight, there's magic in the air tonight-” You began to sing but Peter shushed you as your voice got louder.

“You’re gonna wake everyone up,” He whispered and you looked down, cross eyed at the finger that was now pressed against your lips. You nodded and he slowly removed it.

“Oops,” You whispered, “Why is everyone sleeping when there’s ice cream to eat?”

“Y/N … did something happen to you?”

You shrugged, other more pressing things occupying your thoughts, “I don’t think so … I just wanted ice cream. I better get going because I left all my other stuffies and they can get into trouble when I’m not watching them. Plus, I’m watching all the Tinker Bell movies.”

You hopped off the counter, “Do you want to come?” You felt like you could trust him and that’s why you wrapped one of your hands in his. He didn’t answer with words but he followed you, grabbing your frog that you almost left behind, as you led him to your room, “What’s your name?”

“You don’t remember?” You looked at him with innocent eyes, “Peter, my name’s Peter.”

“Like Peter Pan?” You smiled.

“Yeah, like Peter Pan.”

Peter paid close attention as you introduced him to each one of your stuffed animals. Each one had a name and a short backstory. You told him how you liked to get a new one every time you were in the city. Before he saw your room, Peter never would’ve guessed you’d like any of this stuff. You were quieter and more humble than Yelena but Peter knew you were just as strong. He wasn’t sure why you were acting this way but he wouldn’t deny a chance to get closer to you.

You also explained the entire Tinker Bell franchise to him, introducing him to every character and the politics of Pixie Hollow, “Did you grow up watching these movies?”

You shook your head, yawning, before you rested your head on his shoulder. The two of you sat closely on the couch, your legs sprawled over Peter’s lap, “I didn’t get to be smaller… for a long time. I like being like this, Peter.” Of course you weren’t watching Disney movies growing up as a little girl in the Red Room, Peter suddenly realized. Peter’s mind was reeling, not truly understanding how you seemed to be a completely different person.

You fell asleep soon and Peter knew he couldn’t spend the night here. He couldn’t risk someone seeing him coming out of your room and he certainly didn’t want the other version of you waking up with him in the bed. This version of you didn’t seem to recognize him so would you even remember he was here?

Peter carried you to your bed, tucking you in, and placing your favorite frog in your arms. He held your cheek in his hands, feeling the soft skin there, and admired the features on your face. He liked you before he’d known just how innocent you could be. He imagined your hand in his again, he could still feel the softness of your hands and the warmness in his heart.

Peter wanted to grow to love you.

The next morning, Peter was working in the lab with Bruce. He’d skipped breakfast, not sure if he was ready to face you after what happened last night. You’d gone from sparring partners to cuddle buddies so quickly that Peter was worried he’d imagined the entire thing last night, “Mr. Banner, sir?”

The man looked up from his laptop, “Yeah, Peter?”

“What do you know about trauma responses?”

“I’m not a psychologist, Peter,” He folded his arms, his eyebrows scrunched on his forehead.

“But you’re a genius, right?”

Bruce gave him an amused look, “Why are you thinking about trauma responses?”

“Well … would it make sense for someone who went through a traumatic event … or had a traumatic life, for them to sort of revert back to a younger age.”

“Age regression?” Peter nodded as Bruce caught on, “I’d consider it a coping mechanism maybe for illnesses like PTSD. I’ve seen it used as a therapy technique. It allows the person to go back to an earlier state that may have been less traumatizing for them. I imagine this could be voluntary or involuntary depending on the case.”

Peter sat with his words for a moment, “And how do you think someone could . . . help another person that’s age regressing.”

“If it’s a good coping mechanism that’s working for them, I imagine any kind of support would be good. Being there for that person, however they need. Hopefully they get outside support from a mental health specialist for whatever is causing the regression,” Peter nodded, “You’ve met someone like this.”

“Uhm . . . yeah,” Peter answered, “Someone I met in the city while playing Spiderman. It’s not a big deal. I’m just curious.”

Bruce didn’t push the subject further.

Your work was interrupted by Kate knocking on the glass door that led into the room. Both you and Yelena were standing behind her and you seemed to be laughing and talking together, “Pete, we’re going to the city! You coming?” Kate shouted through the glass.

“You all have got a big mission tomorrow,” Bruce warned, not looking up from his laptop.

“We’ll probably be back before late,” Peter stood from his seat, a mischievous look on his face, “No worries.”

Bruce hummed as if he wasn’t sure that he believed the young Avenger.

“I’m sorry I ran out of training so fast,” Peter was shocked to hear you say. You were sitting beside each other on the train, an awkward situation that Yelena and Kate had arranged themselves, “I get overwhelmed sometimes.”

“Right,” Peter nodded nervously, “It’s okay. I get overwhelmed sometimes too, you know.”

“Really?”

It really seemed that you hadn’t remembered him being with you last night. Peter half expected to see you in a onesie again, chatting away about Disney movies and desserts again. Instead, you were dressed like a normal, twenty-something who was going to the city with her friends.

“Yeah, sometimes I’ll see something or hear something that reminds me of my Aunt … or Mr. Stark, and it doesn’t matter what I’m doing, I just feel like I’m gonna hyperventilate. Like I can’t get air properly into my lungs and I start sweating … and I just get irritable and not fun to be around. And when it’s over, I just feel embarrassed.”

Something flickered in your eyes, something like understanding, “I get embarrassed too. I suppose it’s just a chemical thing. Fight or flight, I mean. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“You’re probably right,” Peter’s smile was weak, “It’s just hard losing people.”

You nodded in agreement, “It’s hard not having anyone to lose.”

Peter wondered if you remembered the family that you were taken from. Peter even wondered if you considered looking for them, “Friends are just as important as family sometimes. It’s good that you have Yelena and Kate.”

“That’s true. Maybe we should be better friends, Peter,” Peter’s eyes turned to you quickly, a bit of wonderment on his face, “If you want, I mean.”

“Hell yeah,” Peter spoke a little quickly but he was encouraged by the warm smile that grew on your face, “I have places around Queens I want to show you guys.”

Peter showed you all where he grew up and the four of you enjoyed sandwiches from Delmar’s for lunch. Next, Peter wanted to show you guys his favorite part of Queens. The museums. Initially, Yelena took a hard stance that going to museums would be boring but even she was entertained by the cool exhibits at the science museum Peter showed you around.

You and Peter talked so much. Much more than either of you expected. You were practically glued to his lip just the same way Kate was always glued to Yelena.

You went to an art museum next, joining an already established tour group in the middle of their own tour. Peter watched you walking around the gift shop in wonderment at all the handmade knick knacks that were for sale in order to support the museum. Peter approached you, a gift bag in hand, “I got you something.”

“What?” You blurted out, confusion evident in your features, “You don’t need to-”

“Just look,” Peter pulled out the miniature figurine he’d just purchased. It was of a small green frog sitting underneath a red mushroom for shade.

Your eyes widened, “Oh, Peter!” You took the figurine carefully in your hands, your voice going up several octaves as excitement filled you, “It’s so beautiful! Look at the little mushroom! How did you know I loved frogs?”

Peter lied, “I just thought you’d like it.”

“You really didn’t have to. I don’t deserve-”

“You do,” Peter assured you, “Keep it, please. It’s for you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you hugged him, “Thank you,” The way his hand pressed into your back sent shivers through you.

“Are you gonna take good care of it?” Peter knew his words came out slightly patronizing and he could tell he might’ve embarrassed you slightly but you nodded shyly in response.

“I will, I promise.”

When Peter knocked on your door a few nights later, the compound was quiet. All that he could see in the dark hallway were sparkling lights shining beneath your doorway. When the door opened, he was glad to see Smaller you, “Peter Pan,” You greeted him, your voice soft and sleepy, “Hi.”

“Hello, little one,” You looked pleased with the nickname, “Or should I call you princess?”

Peter closed the door behind him, taking in the fact that you were only in a white t-shirt, pale blue panties and fuzzy socks, “Both,” You angled your head at him, “But I’d like to be a fairy princess.”

“I should’ve known.” There was something so alluring about being with you in this state. It was like being with you at your most vulnerable state and Peter liked being the only one who knew about Smaller you, “What have you been doing up so late?”

There was no Disney movie playing tonight but F.R.I.D.A.Y. was playing a soft melody of classical music. Peter wondered why you’d made that choice. You grabbed his hand, bringing him over to your own desk to show him what you’d been working on, “Drawing,” You answered, showing him the array of papers, pushing the scatter crayons out of the way, “Look at these, Petey. Look.”

Two of the photos were quite familiar. One was a drawing of a small frog sitting beneath a mushroom and the other was two people standing together near what he assumed was an art exhibit. The girl was wearing a plaid shirt just like she had the other day and the boy was wearing a black jacket.

“It’s me and you,” Peter said.

“It is?” Your doe eyes looking up at him threatened to make him melt there on the spot, “Will you take me there?”

“Of course,” Peter agreed, “We’d look so cute together.”

“Yeah,” You beamed, “But I’d wear a pretty dress.”

“And I’d look like a frog in comparison. It would be perfect.”

“Don’t say that, Petey,” You squeezed his hand, “You look like . . . can I tell you a secret?”

Peter nodded and you motioned for him to lean down so you could whisper in his ear, “I think you like a handsome Prince.”

Peter chuckled at that, “Do you?” You nodded and Peter whispered into your ear next, “I won’t tell anyone your secret.”

You looked away shyly. You showed him the rest of the pictures and Peter encouraged you to put all the crayons back in the proper spot back in the carton.

“Are you ready for bed yet?” Peter asked you, “It’s getting really late.”

You frowned, “I don’t like sleep. Can we stay up? Maybe we can play pretend?”

“Why don’t you like to sleep?”

You just shook your head, letting go of Peter’s hand, so you could rummage through your closet and find something else to do, “We could play a card game!”

Peter faked a yawn, walking over to your bed, “I’m really tired, Y/N. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Or a board game!”

“I’ll just sleep and you can play a game. I have some special sleepy dust I got from a fairy friend of mine. It’s gonna help me sleep,” Peter climbed into the fluffy white sheets of your bed, knowing your words had definitely caught your attention, “I guess you won’t need any, princess.”

Peter heard your feet pad over to the bed, “You have a fairy friend?”

“Yeah. I went to outer space once and I met one,” Peter shrugged, “On their planet, lots of princesses and princes have trouble sleeping because they have nightmares.”

“Oh,” The look on your face was doleful, “I get bad dreams like all the time. Would it work on me?”

“C’mere and I’ll show you,” Peter patted the spot next to you. You were hesitant as you climbed in the bed with him, “Lay down on your back for me.”

You did as he said, laying on your back with your head resting against a pillow, “And close your eyes for me, little one.”

“But I’m scared-” Peter pressed his hand to your waist, looking up and down your body. Being so close to you with so little clothing … Peter’s idea turned darker than he originally intended it to be. He was helping you, that meant he could help himself a little too.

“I’m here, don’t worry,” As you slowly close your eyes, Peter took the opportunity to let his hands wander even further, “I’m going to sprinkle the dust over you now. Keep your eyes closed.”

Peter could feel you growing slightly impatient, “Petey, I don’t feel anything yet-”

“Of course you can’t feel anything yet, silly. I haven’t activated it yet,” Peter parted your legs, climbing over your body and settling between your legs, “I want you to call me something, okay? To help the fairy dust work.”

“What is it?”

“Call me Daddy.”

“But you’re not-”

“I am, I’m taking care of you, right?” You nodded, “Then that’s what you have to call me. Especially for the dust to work. Understand?”

“Okay … okay, Daddy,” The word couldn’t have sounded any better on your lips. Peter’s hard-on was already pressing against the fabric of his boxers. His fingers travel beneath your panties, softly feeling your folds. Before you could say another word, Peter’s lips were pressed to yours, swallowing your concerns and then eventually your whimpers.

Peter made his way down to your breasts, pulling your shirt up so they were exposed. He attacked the sensitive buds with his tongue, which seemed to bring you even more pleasure than the gentle fingering of your clit. He could feel you growing wetter, leading him to his fingers traveling to your sensitive hole.

“You’re so beautiful, princess,” Peter said as he kissed over your stomach, including the scar that brought you so much anguish, “Daddy’s gonna take care of you. Make you real sleepy.”

When Peter first slid your panties to the side and pressed his mouth to your hole, your eyes shot open, “Stay still, little one,” Peter spoke with his mouthful. You tried your best not to squirm as the touch brought you an overwhelming new feeling of pleasure.

You wanted to smile, to laugh, and to scream all the same time. It was his softness and wetness pressed against your own softness and wetness. He kissed you down there in a way that was difficult to describe but you could feel a slow build starting in your toes till it all completely rushed to your head. Your body was experiencing waves of pleasure and you were glad when he removed his mouth so you weren’t tortured further.

Peter watched you ride at the orgasm. He pulled down his sweatpants and boxers with urgencies before grabbing your arms and pinning them above your head. He pressed his tip against your interest, his eyes looking darkly into yours as he slowly pushed inside, “Daddy,” You winced, “P-Peter – Daddy, it hurts!”

“I know, princess,” Peter grunted, “You can take it all, I know you can.”

Peter was right, you somehow stretched around him and that feeling of tearing soon subsided. Now, all you felt was completely full and completely at his mercy. You were trapped beneath him which meant he could set the pace for how fast he wanted to go. You started to only think of him inside you, of that primal pleasure that he was unlocking and the complete warmness that filled your skin.

“Oh, you feel fucking amazing,” Peter pressed his forehead to yours so he was as close to your as possible. You felt his own eyelashes fluttering against yours, “You feel so good. Tell Daddy you love it.”

“I–” A hard thrust, “Love it, Daddy. I-I love it.”

You were so tight. Impossibly tight. He had to remind himself to not spill over to fast and he slowed his pace but fucked you even harder. When he felt you tightening around him, he felt safe in releasing inside of you.

Your eyes closed as you tried to catch your breath. Peter fell beside you, and just like he’d promised, you felt like you could sleep for the next few days. Peter pulled the comforter over your body, pressing himself into your tired figure. He admired you closely, his nose rubbing against yours as his lips hovered above your own.

“I sleepy … Daddy …”

“Goodnight, little one.”

Peter laid there until dawn and all he could think about was how pretty you looked when you came.

#Dark Fic #dark fics #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader #peter parker x black!reader #black!reader #little space #yelena belova #kate bishop #peter parker #dark!spiderman #mcu smut #peter parker smut #avengers smut

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missdforever · 5 months

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All the black Peter Parker writers that had the best stuff deactivated😭😭😭 I get that it’s because they moved on from tumblr or left cause of lack of engagement, I hope they come back some day cause us black Peter Parker fan girls are lacking literacy on all platforms that do fanfiction. The tag is just full of black widow and black cat stuff😭

#marvel #peter parker fic #peter parker #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x poc!reader #black reader

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iridescentmauve · 2 years

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NEEDINESS. Peter Parker.

summary: you and peter are just having your annual show night, watching one of your favorite shows but you can't push down the unbearable lust and need you feel for him.

pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!black!reader.

word count: 933 | requests: OPEN.

a/n: no, this is not proofread, none of my works are proofread. istg if i see one comment correcting my grammar i will rage 🙁

YOU AND PETER had just been laying on the couch, cuddling with each other; his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

Clueless played on the television in the background, and even though it was possibly your favorite show in the whole entire world, you couldn't help but be less than focused on it.

Your face was pressed into the crook of his neck, thigh thrown over his, so you were basically now sitting on the muscular skin, and every now and then you could just feel how his thigh clenched, pressing deliciously at your core.

What you had figured out after the two of you had begun dating is that Peter Parker is a huge tease, so you couldn't tell whether his actions were accidental or not.

Probably not.

As his thigh rocked up to meet your clothed, sopping cunt, you couldn't help but let out the filthiest whimper into his skin.

It was so quiet that an average man probably wouldn't have been able to hear it; but Peter could.

Due to his enhanced senses, he could tell when you needed him most, he could always feel how wet you were, tell how aroused you were, know how much you wanted him. But, he always waited. Waited until you came to him yourself.

This time was no different.

"Pete .."

"Mm? What is it bug?"

God, his voice. Just the tone of his voice sent a blast of heat down to your core, and you squirmed uncomfortably in your shorts.

Another whine would leave you, dipping your head further into his neck, whispering into his skin, "Pete, 'need you so bad.. Please.."

You could've sworn you heard him chuckle, but maybe it was his ears playing tricks on you. "You gotta speak up, 'can't hear you baby."

A pout etches across your face, leaning away from him slowly. "Said I need you, please Pete.."

Peter smiles, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head, "Could've just said that lovely." One of his hands reaches down, gently tugging down your shorts and you help him by kicking them off.

He shifts a little bit, sitting up and pressing his back against the couch's armrest, helping you to straddle his leg.

The show in the background was now long forgotten as you stared into his gorgeous, brown eyes. God you loved those eyes.

"You gotta tell me what you want from me, okay?" His voice was soft, making you shiver.

He could feel how soaked you were, your thin layer of panties not doing you much justice really. "Want to ride your thigh .. please?" You managed to squeak out, cheeks heating up.

Peter moved his free hand to rest on your cheek, caressing the flesh gently. "Wanna get yourself off on my thigh pretty girl? Hm? Well go ahead, use me for your pleasure bug."

God, the words just seemed so natural, but yet it left you all the more hot and bothered.

Though, you didn't need to be told twice, moving your hands up to rest on his shoulders, slowly rocking your hips back and forth.

You'd moan out, taking in a deep breath as you set a steady pace. He'd place his hand on your hip, squeezing it gently, slightly moving your hips with his hand, guiding you.

"Come on sweet girl, you can do it." He'd mumble in your ear, kissing your earlobe.

You'd whimper, moving your hips at a bit of a faster pace now, clit getting perkier by the second. With each rub of the cloth of your panties rubbing against it each time you move your hips, you let out a slight gasp of his name.

Squeezing your eyes shut you'd lean in, clumsily pressing your lips to his.

Immediately he dove right in, kissing you back with passion, nose bumping against his every now and then. Peter licked into your mouth, tongue exploring every inch of your cavern.

The kiss was slightly sloppy, but you couldn't care less, all you needed was to feel him.

You pulled away, snapping your hips back and forth even faster. You were sure that you were already soaking up his pants, and you hadn't even come yet.

You were sure your inner thighs were dripping with your own arousal, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"Ah- Pete, 'm close-" You gasp out, causing him to grin, moving your hips faster.

He'd duck down, capturing your earlobe in between his teeth, biting gently as you gasp out. "Gonna make a mess all over my pants like the dirty girl you are, yeah? Go on, go ahead baby."

Peter's words made you moan, hips stuttering against his thigh. You could feel your cunt fluttering around nothing, desperately trying to find something to wrap around.

As you grind your hips faster and faster, a strangled moan mixed with a whimper leaves your lips, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face into his shoulder.

"Fuck Peter- 'm coming."

He'd snake a hand down in between your bodies, slipping his hand into your panties, rubbing fast circles on your clit. "Come on baby, come for me come on.."

One last breathy moan would slip past your pretty, pretty lips, before you came undone on his thigh, soaking both your panties and your boyfriend's sweats.

And god, to him it was so hot.

Your little pants were swallowed up by his lips pressing gingerly against yours, still rubbing slow, little circles onto your clit, causing you to shine about sensitivity.

"You seriously thought we were done? You may be, but I'm not."

🪷 tags: @jackierose902109 @kidavalentine @playgurlxoxo

add yourself to my marvel taglist!

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merowkittie · 2 years

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Birthday Gifts — Peter Parker/Spider-Man

Warnings: none, it’s just really short

Summary: you get your boyfriend a gift for his birthday <3 not proof read

“Oh! Peter wait, I forgot to give you this!” You ran out your apartment door in nothing but your pajamas to chase the boy that was about to walk down the stairs.

Peter turned back to you with a small smirk, “What happened? You always seem to forget something, beautiful.”

You sighed at the word. That boy always was one to woo you.

“I forgot to give you this.. open it up right now! You’ll love it.. especially for later.” You winked at the end of your sentence and pushed the little gift box into his hands.

Peter quirked his brow at you with a questioning look. He let out a small huff of a laugh and opened the box.

He smiled once he saw what was in it and pulled you into a hug, placing his nose into your head full of kinky curls. You smiled and pressed a kiss to his neck.

“Happy birthday, Parker! I know you’ve been eyeing them in the shop near the apartment..” you said, wrapping your arms around his slender frame.

“Oh Baby these are beautiful, thank you, thank you, thank you!” He smiled from ear to ear, pressing sloppy kisses all around your face.

You giggled, pushing his face away from you with your manicured hands. He kissed your hands instead which only made you laugh more.

“Pete! You have to go! You’ll see me later.. don’t forget the date ok?,” you leaned closer to his ear, pressing a chaste kiss on the shell of it, “or I’ll have to whoop Spider-Man’s ass.”

He placed his hands up in surrender and stool a step back, “Yes ma’am.”

He kissed you again before you had the chance to say anything and ran down the stairs with your gift in his hands, the different colored lenses he could put on his camera and take even more beautiful photos with, like a small child.

#reader insert #tasm spiderman #the amazing spider man #andrew garfield x reader #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #andrew garfield #tasm!peter imagine #black reader

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pinkhoodi · 7 months

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pop princess !

✎ᝰ — spider boys with a gf who’s a popstar !

♡⃕ — tasm!peter parker, ffh!peter parker x popstar!fem!reader

♡⃕ — genre + warning: fluff + peter is a major fan girl, mention of anxiety, failure, insecurity. lemme know if i missed anything !

♡⃕ — a/n: this includes andrew garfield and tom holland’s spiderman !

꒰ TASM!PETER PARKER ꒱

Ꮺ at first peter was doubtful of dating a pop star, especially being a simple nobody in his high school. just a boy with his camera but now he’s in front of the camera. don’t get me wrong, peter is more than thrilled to be dating you but he’s dating you. thee famous y/n, everyone’s favorite pop girl, star girl that has little girls dreaming

Ꮺ but also the lights, camera, the attention can be quite overwhelming and he will take a minute to adjust from all this. though, you won't always ask him to attend every event and he doesn’t mind attending attending every event so there

Ꮺ cause of his lowkey nature, you try to keep the relationship discreet. you would rather not have your fans swarm at peter’s door or harass him constantly at school

Ꮺ out in the public, you two would wear some type of covering so paparazzi or fans cannot tell who you both are

Ꮺ he’s try very very very hard to be your supportive boyfriend and attend every concert, every showing, every fan meet, any and everything. but being spiderman, and a high school student, he won’t always be at your hip at all times. If he can’t, he’ll send you a text that he won’t be there and send words of encouragement

Ꮺ during his duties as spiderman, if he’s not too busy, he’ll swing through the city until he reaches the venue of your concert. he’ll take a seating on the roof of it and sing along to your words, it’s not the best view but hey, it beats missing your girlfriend’s concert

Ꮺ on the roof, peter snaps some pictures of your concert and prints them off at home. he’ll hang them up on the wall above his desk, along with the many other cute pictures of just you

Ꮺ strangely enough, when you two are out on the red carpets, reporters ask about your views on spiderman. some even ship you with the masked vigilante and you just laugh it off

Ꮺ when you’re not around, he’ll sing some of your songs but definitely won’t tell you. he knows how much of a tease you can be and jokingly calls him your number one fan. of course, that title he won’t deny

Ꮺ whenever you’re at peter’s home, you play a cd of your unreleased songs or demos. you two would just sit and listen to them in peace or he’ll learn the lyrics to sing along. you always give him a copy of the cd before you go home

Ꮺ of course peter has backstage pass to your concerts so he’s usually chilling there until the show starts. he’s there to compliment your outfits, help you go over your setlist, and of course take many pictures of his beautiful pop princess

Ꮺ when things get overwhelming, you go to his home and just rant. you lay on his bed and just talk until you can’t no more, while peter sits and listens to you rant, he’ll rub your back or the top of your head. he would study how your body fluctuates as you vent, for future reference. he would silence sit in for a while than talk you through what is bothering you. whether it would be the lack of privacy, the expectations from fans, fear of failure, insecurities, etc., peter will advise well on how to handle them all. well, at least most of them

Ꮺ if the both of you are not too busy, you would bring him to your studio and show him your song-making process. it’s a very special and private place for you and why not show your loving, supportive boyfriend ?

Ꮺ he would ask questions here and there but for the rest of the time being, he’s quiet. peter would watch you write the lyrics and create a melody, he would watch you scribble and scratch in your journal as he sat across from you

Ꮺ if you appear to become frustrated, he silently hug you and asks if you want a break. he would take you on a walk, and ask more about the song to help you piece it together. sometimes you guys would stop for food, talk more about the song, and figure out what direction you wanted to go for

Ꮺ though, you don’t always have the energy to talk about songs so you would rather chat about your daily life. peter would update you on aunt may and you would tell him about your latest crazy fan experience

Ꮺ if he doesn’t have any advice, he will tell you words of encouragement. he would tell you how proud he is, how far you came, that you’re in control of who you are and not the public. he would remind you of the real you, the raw, organic y/n that he knows and loves. but also reminds me of how happy you look to be on stage or shooting in magazines as the world’s pop princess

Ꮺ speaking of, every shoot that you do for magazines, best believe peter would have every collection. sometime he’ll try to read it in class and some people speculated that he was a fan girl cause there’s no way that every issue always includes you on the front. that’s odd parker, very odd

꒰ PETER PARKER ꒱

Ꮺ your biggest, BIGGEST fan. he’s got all your merch, your cds, you’re his wallpaper. literally he couldn’t be more proud to the boyfriend of everyone’s pop girl, y/n l/n

Ꮺ peter is singing your songs, loudly and bad, posting your new song on his socials, the whole nine yards. I wouldn’t say he’s staying up to listen to your new song but he does learn the lyrics to impress you

Ꮺ I would say your relationship is discreet but not too lowkey ?? like ned and mj knows about the two of you but also you post peter from time to time. If not, then you two would usually hint about the relationship but not give too much information

Ꮺ on red carpet events, peter is recording you from the first step ‘til you hit inside the venue. he’s complimenting and hyping you up, fixing any small details like a loose lash or a small wrinkle on your dress

Ꮺ as bad of a fangirl he is for you, he might be even worse for other celebrities he meets. listen, he is a teenage boy from queens, did he expect to meet gwen stefani or rihanna ? rihannna ? he’s passed out on the floor at this point. if you see one of his favorite musicians, drag him the other way….

Ꮺ now, not all the time he can attend due to his school and his duties as spiderman. but he is sending words of encouragement to fulfill his presence

Ꮺ peter would be starstruck every time he’s out with you. no he’s still not used to being in your dressing room filled with priceless jewelry, clothes that must cost hundreds, and accessories that are so unique and made just for you to wear. it’s like he’s stepped into a popstar’s bubble and very scared to touch

Ꮺ I feel like peter would refuse to believe he’s dating thee pop girl, y/n. like he knows he’s dating you but has he accepted it? let’s just say he still pinches himself every time you text him, ya know, to make sure he’s not dreaming

Ꮺ secretly peter has a playlist of just your songs and only your songs. he wouldn’t allow you to see since he would feel embarrassed but ned and mj are for sure teasing him about it

Ꮺ like the other peter, he would have every single issue of your magazine covers. he doesn’t care if they’re small articles of your latest look, he is reading it !

Ꮺ between class times, he would try to watch clips of your interview and blush over how cute you look. certain questions would have him a tad bit concerned but he knows you can handle it well

Ꮺ throughout the day, peter would ask if you’re doing okay, mentally and physically. he understands how draining it is to be well-known in the public eye, especially in the age of social media. If you say no, he’ll stop by your place and comfort you with what is bothering you. also, please don’t lie to him about how you’re feeling cause his spider senses will tell him

♡⃕ lately I’ve been listening to music from the 2000s and it makes me wish to be a pop girl in the 2000s saurrrrr bad. omg-

♡⃕ it doesn’t help that one of my fave shows was hannah montana. the pop princess FRRRR

♡⃕ ngl, tasm peter was VERYYYYY hannah montana coded. I’m sawry she’s like my pop girl inspo 😞

♡⃕ I felt like I kinda didn’t do my best with tom holland peter parker ngl 😭

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: romans 8:26

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c-nstantine · 2 years

Text

Crush on you

Description: Peter meets Y/N Wilson

Word Count: 0.5k

Warnings: None, just fluff, Sam being an over protective uncle

Peter tended not to pay attention to where he was going when rushing through the Avengers' compound. Even with his web-slinging abilities, Peter Parker was running about fifteen minutes late to his meeting with Tony Stark. This wouldn't be a problem if he didn't have to dodge a person around every corner.

"Oh, gosh. I'm so sorry," These were the immediate words Peter said as he ran into someone. Papers went on the floor and Peter landed flat on his butt.

"Oh, it's fine. I didn't want to go to my meeting anyway," The stranger joked as she gathered her papers. Peter looked up as he helped gathered his papers. He had never seen a girl so beautiful in his life. She had shoulder-length butterfly locs and wore a yellow sweater with a black skirt. She looked to be around his age.

"I'm Peter Parker," Peter said sticking out his hand, which the girl shook. He gave a small smile.

"Oh, you're Mr. Stark's intern. I'm Y/N," She responded, returning the smile. Y/N looked down and noticed that she was still holding Peter's hand. Her eyes widened and she dropped his hand while mumbling a quick apology.

"How'd you know I'm Mr. Stark's intern?" Peter asked while rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks were tinted a light shade of pink.

"My uncle told me," Peter couldn't determine if this was a good or bad thing. The cute girl's uncle could be a random agent or he could be an Avenger that could kick Peter's ass.

"Just out of curiosity, who's your unc-" Peter was interrupted by Y/N's name being shouted from down the corridor.

"Y/N, I was looking for you," Sam Wilson announced as he placed a hand on Y/N's shoulder. With a quirked eyebrow, he looked between his niece and Peter.

"I was on my way when I bumped into Peter," Y/N said as she gestured towards the boy next to her. Peter did an awkward wave as his mind fumbled to form any words.

"Hi, Mr. Wilson, sir," Peter hadn't had a formal conversation with Sam since the whole webbing him to the floor of a German airport. Peter did apologize but it was safe to assume that Sam still held a grudge against the teenage boy.

"Come on, Y/N we're going to be late," Sam said looking Peter up and down. Y/N's eyebrows furrowed as she watched her uncle disappear into the sea of people.

"I better get going but we should get lunch together one day,"

"Yeah totally, yeah," Peter said but he doubt that she heard him. His heart banged against his chest as he watched her walk away and he released a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Kid, how is it you have zero game?" Tony asked while holding a box labeled 'Stark Do Not Touch'. He shook his head in the disappointment of his protégé.

"I have so much to teach you," Tony said passing the box off to Peter. In all honesty, Peter wasn't paying attention to a word that Tony was saying. His mind had run off to la la land and his thoughts were consumed by Y/N. Sure he had only met her fifteen minutes ago but it was clear he had a crush on Y/N Wilson. Sam might actually kill him.

#peter parker #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x black reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x poc!reader #x black reader #x black!reader #black!fem!reader #marvel #c-nstantine

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yesitsmewhataboutit · 2 years

Text

Protection

Peter Parker x Reader

Peter starts noticing tiny things about the way you behave around your family, well one person in particular, and it makes him worry

Warnings⚠️: allusions of abuse, angst? (kinda but not really)

Masterlist

̶̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ Requests open　 ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶

"Peter. No."

"But, y/n-"

"No."

"It's tru-"

"Peter, no, it's not!" a laugh escapes before you can fully finish your sentence. "It's not ok."

"Yes, it is. It'll be fine."

"You can't do that, Peter."

"Yes, I can, especially when I live with him."

"I'm sorry, isn't that a type of fraud? Spiderman?"

"Not when his credit card info is programmed into my phone."

"First, that means nothing, and second, why are his credit cards programmed into your phone?" you raise your eyebrow and pull away from him slightly.

"That," Peter leans closer, pushing your back into his mattress, hovering over you with a smile, "is none of your concern."

"Ok!" you scramble and sit up, "Mr. Parker. No! I am not letting you buy me a new mattress with Tony's credit card."

You're in Peter's room, laid in his bed, and he's trying his best to convince you to let him buy you a mattress since yours quoted "feels like laying on needles attached to springs," and he would rather sleep on the table Tony builds his suit parts, which he's done before.

"Ok. Well, as amazing as this conversation is," you stand up, "I gotta go. My brother is coming back from his 2-week trip, so my family wants to have dinner, blah, blah, blah, I have to be there," you turn and put your coat on, starting to grab your stuff.

"Wait," Peter pouts and whines, leaning to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you back toward the bed, your knees hitting the edge of his bed. "I wanted to spend time with you."

"I'll come back after this weekend, Pete," you assure him.

"Why don't I just come with you?" he offers.

"Oh? Now you want to spend a weekend on my bed of springs?"

Peter sighs. "If it means being with you," he smiles, "I'll do anything."

"Anything? Even take the offer of cleaning Thor's room again?"

Peter's smile falls. "You promised you'd never mention that again."

About an hour later, you and Peter walk into your apartment. Your brother is laid on the couch in front of the tv, not giving you a second glance. You don't doubt that your parents are somewhere wandering around, and you know you'll run into them at some point.

Your parents have met Peter on multiple occasions, but he's never really been around them as much as he will be this weekend, and you both know that, but you look forward to it.

"Oh, hey, glad you're home," your mom smiles as you pass her in the hallway. You stop in front of your door, turning to her.

"Hey. Is it ok for Peter to spend the weekend here too?" you ask.

"Yeah, course." She pauses and turns to you and Peter. "Oh! Peter, here. That guy from earlier dropped this," she hands him a dagger. "I wanna believe that's something normal and say you can leave it here, but after the situation with the last glowing object you left here, I don't think that'd be wise," she says, nodding at him and continuing her way toward the kitchen.

You look confused. "Is that Loki's dagger?"

"It's his traveling open he uses to open boxes," Peter mumbles and sticks it in his pocket.

"Wait- why was he here-"

"And keep your door open!" your mom yells as she rounds the corner.

You give a defeated sigh and head nod. "There it is."

"We both knew that was coming," Peter laughs. You laugh and shake your head, momentarily dropping the dagger conversation and turning to open your door and go into your room. When you push the door open, the first thing you see, is a large new mattress in the corner of your room. "Oh, yeah. And I may have had Loki deliver an Asguradian mattress for you," Peter says from behind you.

"Peter!" You can't even be upset you're so surprised, plus the mattress looks really comfortable. "How'd you even get him to agree to this?"

"He owed me after I helped him cover up the fact he lost one of Thor's goats for three hours," he shrugs. Peter moves past you, walking into the room and flopping down on his back on your bed. "Asgardian beds are the most comfortable in the universe, made specifically for comfort and durability," he groans. "It's the same Thor got for Jane when they first started dating."

You raise your eyebrow and cross your arms. "Are you implying something?"

Peter raises his head, his voice cracking. "No."

You roll your eyes and walk over to him, sitting on the bed. "Oh wow, this is comfortable."

After a few minutes, your mom calls from the kitchen that dinner is ready. You and Peter leave your room to join the rest of your family in the kitchen.

"Ew, what's he doing here," your little brother whines.

"Hi, Marcus," Peter laughs.

"I don't like you," Marcus squints his eyes at him.

"Yeah, I know."

Everyone starts getting food, Dre, your older brother, first, followed by Marcus, and then you step up. Peter watches you pile your plate, waiting for you to finish.

Your dad comes up behind you, ready to get his own plate. Something deep in Peter's mind goes off, his sense telling him something, but he doesn't know what. He stands at a distance, watching you. It's slight, but he sees how you stiffen, quickening your speed of getting your food the tiniest amount. Weird.

He keeps watching, but before he knows it, you're finished, turning to him with a smile and heading to sit at the table. "Hey," Peter gets his food and slides in the seat next to you, lowering his voice, "you alright?"

You look up at him from your plate, slightly confused but smiling. "Yeah," you nod, melting away the ounce of worry he had, making him drop the topic.

Later, you and he get ready for bed. He watches as you remove your shirt and replace it with one of his t-shirts. "You're sleeping in that?" Peter asks, his brows slightly frowned from confusion.

"Yeah, why?" you ask, flopping down on the bed next to him.

"Oh, um, no reason," he shakes his head, smiling and shrugging, dropping the topic, letting you climb into his arms.

Peter distinctly remembers you saying you didn't like sleeping in any shirt that didn't have thin straps. He remembers how you'd said you'd love to sleep in his clothes but didn't cause you knew you couldn't get comfortable in a regular shirt or hoodie, plus you overheat. You never wore regular t-shirts -or clothes at all- when you spent the night with him at the tower.

Why now?

In the morning, you wake before Peter. Mornings have always been your favorite. You get to lay in Peter's arms, warm and happy, listening to Peter's slow breathing and tranquility running through the room. Perfect.

However, one thing about the mornings is you usually have to separate from your perfect bed to use the bathroom. No matter how much you don't want to or you want to stay with Peter, this morning is no different.

Peter knew your routine, so when you pull from his light grasp, he lets you go, watching as you get up, dressed in only one of his t-shirts, and walk into the hallway toward the bathroom.

He waits for you, rubbing his eyes and stretching some, laying on his back with his arms out, waiting for you to come back and climb into them. Peter loves you. He loves you so much he knows your heartbeat rhythm, the sound of your footsteps, your breathing, everything about you he's memorized and could find you in the snap of a second even if he's in a crowd.

Because of that, while you're on your way back from the bathroom, when your heart rate picks up, your breath hitching for a moment he gets slightly worried. But what could've happened? He can tell it's only your family in the apartment. Nothing seems off. Why'd you get startled?

He couldn't come up with a valid reason before you appeared back into the room, immediately crawling on the bed and into his arms, curling up on top of him and tucking your face in his neck. If he didn't know any better, he'd think you were fine, but Peter knows you, he can feel your hands shaking, and you're holding onto him far too tightly for him to look past it.

When you cuddled up to him, he wrapped his arms around you. Even tho he doesn't know why you're scared, he still wants to comfort you, holding you close to his body. "Hey, you alright?" he mumbles, pressing his lips against your forehead.

"Mhm, fine. Wanna sleep a bit more," you say, shutting him down before he even had a chance and snuggling closer to him, closing your eyes and ready to slip back into sleep.

Later in the day, everything seems normal. You're your normal self, but Peter knows something's off. There's something he's missing.

"Pete, do you want a sandwich?"

"Yeah, sure."

You top off the last bit of ham on your sandwich, putting bread on top, and then move on to make Peter's sandwich. Peter watches you from the couch, deciding to get up and stand with you. He leans against the refrigerator about five feet from you, watching as you move around the counter to make his meal. He can't help but smile.

Your dad enters the kitchen, coming to make his own lunch. He walks next to you, standing at the counter and beginning his lunch. In Peter's opinion, he's standing a little extra close than needed, but he brushed it off. His brushing it off doesn't last long cause, again, he can hear your heart rate elevate and see you tense and start holding your breath.

Without a second thought, Peter pushes from his spot, smoothly sliding between you and your dad, acting as if he's only grabbing the sandwich you made for him, turning his head to give you a comforting smile. You look over your shoulder, smiling and handing him the plate.

The actions are innocent, but Peter picks up on how you lean into his touch when he lays his hand on your waist, how you slowly exhale, and the tension in your body evaporates. In your mind, you don't know if what Peter's doing is on purpose, but you're happy he's doing it. You never told him what always went on. You never made a big deal about it, but the little acts make you happy. They settle your nerves.

Peter fully wraps his arm around your waist, letting his hand rest on your stomach as he pushes to move you away from the area and back to the couch where you originally were. Again, you don't say anything, acting like it's all normal. When you sit down, you smile and begin talking about the show you'd put on the tv, and Peter doesn't have the heart to stop you and really ask what happened.

It’d take everything in him to change the subject cause he knows something's up. He knows he should ask and get to bottom of what it is cause he can't keep sitting around and watching. He knows he should, but he just can't. For now, all he can do is keep you happy and protected from whatever it is. Cause he just can't bare to do anything else.

Maserlist

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker spiderman #peter parker x reader fluff #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x poc!reader #peter parker angst

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