#brief may parker

[shurisneakers]

PETER PARKER FIC??????? DO IT!!!!! PLEASEEEEEEEE

hear me out..... end of the world crack!fic

#they work together at oscorp and the team's on a work trip #when the world is just. kind of ending #so he wants to go back home to check in on his friends and aunt may and all that #and since she's left and theyre from the same place they decide to head out together #Like Peter is in DISTRESS and she is like. #'anyway. Found a bug in the corner of my broken house his name is John' #anyway found family yadda yadds #but paired with my inability to take anything seriously so it's just a lot of. *seasickness trying to cross the ocean* #*peter trying to swing on a buildings but he smacks into a pole when it crumbles* 'go Spider-man!' *incomprehensible groaning* #ok some of this doesnt make sense but i think it will work #ari answers #anon #unwritten fics #peter parker x reader #it's tasm peter bc i had a brief love affair with him back in December and have since been pining

[nymphomatique]

wanna sit on nerd miguel’s face while i use my phone to snap other guys that’s my little chair fr😔😻

this just changed the trajectory of my life in a way you cannot understand.

cw: slight d/s dynamics, sending nudes, munch miguel makes an appearance once more, bro literally FEASTS, new character yippee (v minor), brief choking (more like a neck squeeze tbh), praise, squirting LOL, miguel gets kicked out again 😔 reader catching feelings?? we may never know. semi proofread today i felt nice. this is a longer one than usual, so enjoy!

“stop fuckin’ squirming down there and eat me out properly,” you say, looking down at miguel. his eyes are hazy and hooded, his glasses somewhere on the bed, his brown eyes clear as day. you grip his head by his hair and position him to where his nose brushes above your clit, and you moan at the feeling. “l-like that, okay miguel? be good for mommy.”

miguel takes heed of your instructions and begins to lick, suck, and thrust up into your wetness, making it hard for you to maintain something relative to your composure. in the throes of miguel’s mouth work, your phone screen, next to miguel’s head, lights up with a snapchat notification from none other than the star quarterback of your school, peter parker. you bite the corner of your lip, mouth pulling up in a smile at an idea. you grab your phone and open it to snapchat, seeing peters name at the top of your snap list. you open his snap and it’s a picture of him shirtless, abs on display, his happy trail just peeking over the band of his pants. his snap is captioned with text reading ‘wyd?’

you prop your camera up, angling it enough that miguel’s face and your pussy are out of frame. miguel stops for a moment to ask what you’re doing, but before he can get a word in you speak up, “if you stop, this will be the last time i ever let you touch me. got it? keep fucking going.” and wordless, miguel does as he’s told, going back to eating you but with a new energy this time. it catches you off guard a bit, and you let out a light f-fuck in response, but you don’t let it derail you from answering peter back.

peter. you and him have had.. complicated history to say the least. since high school, the two of you ran in the same social circles, with him being on your high school football team and you, a cheerleader. a true status quo. the two of you had ended up attending the same underaged parties, hooking up and even going steady for some time, until the blonde busty thing known as gwen stacy walked into your high school in sophomore year and made her claim on your then boyfriend. you figured it out after you walked in on them under the bleachers post-game, the spot where you habitually got on your knees to congratulate peter for his win. you stayed with him after a profuse apology and intense “i’m sorry” fuck session, to your dismay, but broke up with him in the beginning of your senior year. now, you two fuck from time to time, scratching an itch when you have it.

you look back at the tease of a photo on your phone, your tits spilling out your plunge neck crop top and your abdomen cutting off right above your pubic area, your pink thong still visible coming up the sides of your hips. you feel miguel plunge his tongue into you, causing you to fall forward, steadying yourself with one hand, phone in the other. “keep this up and i’m gonna squirt on you, but i bet you’re into that huh?” you laugh out a little, miguel moaning into you in response. you try not to get distracted and caption your snap to peter ‘nothing really’ and press send.

immediately, you see that he opens it and he replies just as fast, this time the photo of him in grey sweats with a visible tent, layer out on his bed. the caption attached, ‘wanna turn your nothing to a something? ;)’ and you roll your eyes. you move to answer him with another midriff picture, but you change your mind. “hey, look at me dweeb,” you say, turning the camera so that it’s capturing the angle of miguel’s mouth on your pussy, covered in spit and your juices. he looks up and sees the camera of your phone pointed down towards him and he goes red in the face and tight lipped. “remember what i told you about stopping,” you remind him, and he maintains eye contact with the camera as he goes back to lick a strip up your pussy, from your leaking hole to your clit. you move your unoccupied hand to his face, palm to his cheek as you slowly caress him with your thumb. “that’s a good boy.”

you move your hand from his cheek, trailing softly down to his strong neck and you wrap your hand around his neck and squeeze. at the pressure he lets out a groan, his hands moving to grip your thighs tighter to his face. “fuck miguel, you’re making mommy so happy right now- ah! fuck, just like that. keep doing that, o-okay?” you moan out. he says nothing, his eyes, still maintaining contact with the camera, clouded with lust, answering for him.

you snap a picture, turned on at the lewdness of it. it’s your pussy on miguel’s face, pink panties pushed to the side as his mouth is sucking on your clit, his hands gripping the fat of your thighs, and your hand around his neck at the same time. you make quick work to save the photo and caption it ‘busy, sorry’, feeling your orgasm approach. you press send and drop your phone, ignoring the back to back buzzing, probably of peters reply to your salacious snap.

a steady heat begins to boil in the pit of your stomach, and you keen forwards, your hand leaving miguel’s neck to grip the white sheets on your bed. “i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna-“ and with that, you feel the pleasure within you tighten then burst, like a damn breaking way, and you begin to tremble as miguel continues his work down on you. the overstimulation begins to hit you, and you feel a spurt of liquid leave your body and miguel groan and suck. “oh my god,” you heave out, “st-stop, no more.”

miguel places a final kiss to your mound as he moves to lift your limp hips for you. he feels sheepish how, his sweater and mouth drenched with your liquids. he wipes his lips and makes way to speak to your still firm on the bed. “are- are you okay?”

you say nothing, grab the nearest pillow you have, and throw it at him. miguel dodges and understands that means get the fuck out.

after collecting yourself, your body still spent and sheets still wet, you roll over on your back and grab your phone to look at what peter replied to you. you open his snap, and laugh a little at his responses.

peter 🚮

| is that fucking o’hara..?

| you’re fucking with me???

| fucking whore

| you sleep with nerds now??

you make way to reply to peter one more time, opening the camera and taking a picture of the wet bedsheets, caption it ‘nerds that can make me cum? yeah’ and unadd him after.

you finally haul yourself up to change your sheets when you see miguel’s glasses on your bed. you grab them and put them on your nightstand, feeling heat rush through your blood to your face, thinking of him and the mess he made of you.

fucking dweeb.

#the ask had me sweatin #u guys need to start writing instead of me 😭 #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara drabble #miguel atsv smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel atsv #sub miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #you’ve got mail💌 #<nerd!miguel3

[fangswbenefits]

Obsession

Summary: Miguel tries to convince himself that his obsession with you was justified, but fails miserably as you spend the night over.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Miguel POV. Obsessed and jealous Miguel. Inexperienced reader. Breeding kink. Sexual tension and frustration. Reader has nipple piercings.

Previous parts: 1 & 2 (you may enjoy this one separately, but might miss out on some context)

Miguel tried to convince himself that adding a mic to your digital suit was purely for safety purposes.

He really did try.

But he couldn’t keep from listening in when you first wore it on your way to the spider cafeteria.

He had just briefed a squad and was monitoring Nueva York through a multitude of hovering screens, as he stood on his platform.

Tapping quickly on the flickering surface, he was able to zoom in on you through the ceiling cameras.

You looked absolutely breathtaking.

The suit fit you like a glove and left little to the imagination. He was proud of his work. You deserved wearing something of his for everyone to see.

He saw you approaching a nearby table, taking a seat. In front of you were Jessica Drew and Peter B. Parker with Mayday who greeted you with warm smiles.

The sound of your voice echoed through the walls around him, as you extended your arms.

“Mayday! Baby! It’s so good to see you!”

The little girl broke into a giggle and began wriggling forward on Peter’s lap to reach you.

You promptly took her in your arms. “Did you miss me? Did you?” your voice was slight high-pitched and you wiggled your fingers, tickling her. “Oh, I have a present for her.”

“Really? That’s so nice of you,” Peter beamed.

“I don’t have it here, but I think she’ll love it,” you said, patting Mayday’s back lightly, earning a genuine hug from her.

Miguel felt his heart clench violently.

You were a natural with kids.

You were just too good to be true and he felt his hands clench tightly.

Would he ever be able to have you? To make you yearn for him? To breed you? To have children with you?

“Wait, is that a… digital suit?” Jessica’s voice cracked through the mic.

You had your back turned to him, so he couldn’t see your face, but he felt the warmth in your voice as you spoke, “It sure is!”

He groaned lowly.

There you were… his sweet girl.

“Who gave it to you?”

“Miguel,” you said with that tenderness he had grown to adore.

He could easily get addicted to you saying his name, and he could only hope that, one day, he might hear it a much more compelling setting.

“Miguel… O’Hara?”

You nodded.

From the screen he could see her exchanging looks with Peter.

“It looks really cool!” Peter smiled enthusiastically, inspecting your sleeves. “Wish he’d offer me one, too.”

Jessica chuckled. “Well, I’ve been here with him for months and he’s never given me one.”

Jessica…

It was to be expected. She was no fool. He had scouted her precisely because she was anything but that.

You had been recruited only three weeks ago, but the hold you had on him was tight. He had never felt this way before with someone else.

You straightened in your seat, as Mayday nibbled on your thumb. “Wait… do you think I should give it back?”

Miguel felt his heart jumpstart and panic build inside him.

“No — no! Jessica,” Perer shot her a glare who merely shrugged, before offering you a kind smile. “It looks great on you. Did you pick the colours?”

“Yes! I’m really happy with the final result,” you said, helping Mayday sit at the edge of the table, as you secured her with both hands. “It was his way of showing gratitute.”

Jessica snapped her fingers after taking a sip of her drink. “You’re helping him out with the portals, right?”

“We’re working on portal stabilisation and reduced motion sickness,” you said and he could almost taste the pride and passion in your voice. “We’re making some progress.”

Miguel had gotten used to the random erections you’d awake from him throughout the day. But this one felt particularly painful.

You were so smart and so devoted. He couldn’t even take credit for the progress, because it was mostly just you.

His sweet and clever girl.

He glanced down at the outline of his strained cock, clicking his tongue.

By the time his eyes settled on the monitor, Jessica had walked away momentarily and he saw Peter lean in.

“Hey… are you and Miguel… a thing?”

Miguel froze.

Mayday proceeded to wrap tiny fingers around some of his locks, tugging lightly.

He wish he could have seen your reaction.

“Oh! No! No… we’re just friends,” you quickly said, waving your hands rapidly. “He’s like a mentor to me, really.”

Anger flared inside him. A friend? A mentor? He knew deep down this made absolute sense, but it still made him seething with rage.

Peter didn’t seem all that convinced, but nodded. “Just wondering. He’s not usually this… kind?”

Miguel felt his fangs threaten to emerge as he gritted his teeth.

There had been nothing kind about him building you a suit. He hadn’t done it out of the goodness of his heart.

He wanted to claim you and this had been the easiest and safest way for now.

“Well, I know he’s a grumpy,” you chuckled with a shrug, as you patted Mayday on the back. “Maybe he’s changing?”

You wouldn’t want him to change. Not really. The level of devotion he had for you was unmatched and nothing you could ever have from someone else.

“Maybe you’re a good influence on him?” Peter concluded, tapping his chin. “As a friend, of course.”

“Peter….” he growled lowly.

“As a friend,” you nodded. “Besides, there’s…” but your voice trailed off.

His erection nearly immediately deflated as dread took over.

There’s what?

He turned up the mic’s volume, but winced instead, as you banged on the table.

You cleared your throat. “Well, gotta go! I have work to do.”

Peter took Mayday back into his lap and chuckled. “Don’t forget her present!”

“I won’t! Wish me luck, though,” you said, crossing your fingers as you started to walk away. “I really need these chips to stop blowing and melting on me!”

“Good luck! Say bye bye, Mayday,” Peter waved his hand, which the little girl promptly mimicked with a giggle.

“Bye, baby!” you beamed.

Miguel had had enough.

He switched off your mic with a tap on his watch.

He really had tried to convince himself that his obsession for you was justified. That is was rooted in more than lust and desire, but he wasn’t so sure anymore.

After you moved to Nueva York, he had you working closely to him on portal stabilisation.

But what had started out as something innocent, soon shifted into something else entirely.

Your company brought him peace and quiet, and ticket his brain just the right way to keep him motivated.

Until it didn’t.

Until you became his torment.

He had let you in his life in the hopes that you let him in yours.

The first time you gave him a boner was when he walked in on you in the lab, wearing nothing but a tank top and a pencil pressed firmly in between your lips, as you moved from screen to screen to check on the update progress.

The worst part? You didn’t even notice how utterly delicious you looked and how he could easily bend you over and take you right there.

No.

You just offered him a sweet smile.

One he hadn’t recovered from ever since.

“Miguel?”

He jolted as the voice snapped him from his torturous thoughts. “What?”

Lyla hovered nearby, eyeing him closely. “Fangs out,” she wiggled her index finger disapprovingly. “Pavitr and Hobie are waiting for you.”

His fangs retracted slowly as he tried to gain his composure back. “Why?”

“Mission?” she quirked an eyebrow.

Right.

“Now?”

“You’re already late.”

He growled, tapping on a few screens hurriedly.

“Oh, and Miguel?”

“What?”

The hologram popped near the screen to his left. “You might want to be more subtle when using her in-suit mic.”

He gave her narrow side-glace. “What do you mean?”

“Just saying,” she said, adjusting her heart-shapped glasses. “You’re not the only tech savvy spider here.”

The door to his apartment swung open at once, and he stepped inside ready to decompress from the tiresome mission.

He had made plans with some of your audio recordings and his hand, hoping that would be enough to easy the pent-up tension that had been looming over year throughout the way.

It was a less than ideal situation, but would have to do for now.

That was until he noticed his living room was lit.

Pacing rapidly he was met with you.

In the middle of a pile of papers and electronic components scattered around the floor, he saw you sitting cross-legged with a pencil danging from your lips, his digital suit clinging tightly to your body.

“What are you doing here?”

Your bead snapped in his direction and the pencil tumbled to the floor. “Miguel! Lyla let me in.”

He was rooted in place.

Had it been someone else, he would have flung them through the window with no warning.

But you weren’t just someone.

And Lyla wouldn’t have let someone else enter his apartment, either.

“It’s quite late,” he said, pacing carefully toward you as not to step on anything. “You could have called me.”

You waved a hand dismissively and held a circular metallic object in the other. “Catch!”

Before he could say anything back, you had tossed it in his direction, which he quickly grabbed in between his fingers.

“Found what was wrong with it,” you smiled proudly. “It was stupid of me, really. There wasn’t any thermal paste in it. That’s why it kept blowing up.”

Miguel stared at the chip in his hand and blinked a few times.

“I assumed you were using it from the start,” he said, inspecting the cross section.

You rose to your feet in an instant and joined his site, excitement spilling from you. “These ion batteries should not require thermal paste — not for this amount of energy, at least. But yeah… my bad,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck.

Miguel locked eyes with yours and felt a familiar tingle in his body.

Fuck.

You were just so ridiculously attractive, and he wish he could hear you ramble about tech and science for hours.

“This is really, really good news,” he said genuinely, handing the chip back to you.

He squeezed your arm lightly as encouragement, knowing fully well he should be rewarding you in other ways.

His sweet girl…

You darted back to the floor, gathering some papers. “Sorry for the mess. I just had to figure this out and couldn’t sleep.”

A scientist at heart, you were.

Blood began to rush to his groin in no time. It couldn’t be helped. His body had been so on edge to finally fuck you, that it was in this permanent state of arousal around you.

“It’s fine. I still have those moments,” he said softly, crouching to help you out. “Sometimes I can’t sleep, and I have to do something else.”

“Like what?”

“I either go to the lab, or…” I jerk off to the thought of being buried deep inside you, he wanted to say.

You eyed him expectantly, biting your lip lightly, further hardening his cock.

“Well, it’s a bit late,” Miguel eventually said, standing tall. “Maybe you should get back to your apartment?”

He hated himself for even suggesting such option, but he didn’t want to push his luck. You being here would be fuel enough for the rest of the night as he fucked his hand.

“Oh, you just got back from a mission,” you fought back a yawn, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “I’ll just leave.”

Miguel nodded, but was crumbling inside.

Your face lit up again. “But this was great, right?”

Please stay.

“You did great,” he said with a short smile. “Go get some rest.”

Please…

You made your way down the hall and waved at him. “See you in the morning, Miguel.”

He should have let you go.

But something took over him, before he could fight it back.

“Actually, you could stay. It’s nearly four in the morning,” he tried to sound as casual as possible, but the excitement was hard to contain. “And we have to head back to the lab early.”

You turned around and he stopped breathing.

Too much?

Then he the backpack slide down your arm, hittingbthe floor with a thud. “Oh, thank you! I really didn’t feel like swinging back to my apartment,” you voice held pure gratitude and he felt his ego soar. “Only… I don’t have any clothes.”

He shook his head as realisation hit him. “Right. Wait here.”

“Okay~”

Bolting into his room, he went through his closet, fetching a shirt and a robe.

But before heading out, he decided to change into some sweatpants and a shirt himself.

His erection welcomed the looser material, and he’d be able to better conceal it from you.

Taking a final look at his cock, Miguel decided to give it a few pumps as if trying to calm it down.

He couldn’t believe his luck.

He couldn’t believe his sweet girl would be so close to him in his clothes and apartment.

And bed.

As he exited the room and handed the clothes to you, he cleared his throat. “You can take my bed.”

You looked up at him. “Oh… no, Miguel. You just came back from a mission.”

“I’m not that tired. Just take it.”

Please.

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

Anything that was his was yours. He would give it all to you.

“Be right back,” you said, before disappearing into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

He immediately sighed in relief, adjusting his cock, feeling the first beads of precum spill from the tip.

How was he to survive this?

Not long after, you emerged again.

He glanced over at the length of you, taking in the sight of his shirt and robe on you. Your legs were still covered with the digital suit, but you looked absolutely ready to be devoured.

But he couldn’t do it.

Not yet.

His cock twitched in his pants, yearning to be inside you.

Then something else caught his attention when his moved up your body.

It couldn’t be…

Two symmetrical protuberances poked through the fabric of your shirt — his shirt.

“Are those…” his voice faltered momentarily, not trusting his own eyes.

You followd his line of sight and giggled. “Oh! Yeah. Got them pierced way back. Wanted to defy my dad and got them out of spite,” you went on, adjusting the fabric of the shirt under the robe. “But eventually kept them. They look cute.”

Cute?

Miguel was at a loss for words.

Your voice mixed with your carefree posture sent jolts directly into his cock.

“I…” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I didn’t notice them before,” he said, feeling his mouth run dry.

“I was wearing a bra,” you replied with a shrug and a tender smile.

This was almost comically painful.

You were the closest thing he had ever known to innocence as of late. Yet here you stood, wearing just his shirt, no bra, and with your pierced nipples poking through his shirt.

But none of that seemed to matter to you.

You were completely oblivious of how painfully hard he was for you.

“Did it hurt?”

“Terribly,” you said, still glacing down at your breasts and hardened nipples. “But I think it’s worth it.”

The adorable way in which you said it was almost driving him insane.

Just how innocent could one person be…

Before he could even process his thoughts, he spoke, “Can I…”

Your eyes met his and Miguel feared he had now fucked it up for good.

Brilliant, Miguel…

“Oh, you mean… you want to see them?”

Should he back down and just deny his intentions?

“You’ve never seen nipple piercings before?”

He shook his head.

Just as he was about to tell you to forget it, you lifted his shirt, revealing your breasts to him.

He nearly exploded right there and then.

“Oh, please!” she giggled. “We’re people of science, and you haven’t seen this before. Science is all about curiosity and discovery.”

Miguel, however, wasn’t listening to any of that and felt as though he was hypnotised. He could tear his eyes away from your perky nipples and the metal rods that went through them, a tiny spider danging from each of them.

He wasn’t sure when or how he had got so close to you, but he lifted his hand to touch one.

His cock twitched violently and he felt his mind hazy with lust.

“They’re cool, right?” you beamed, allowing him to swipe the pad of his thumb across the tiny spider.

“Yeah.”

Really ‘cool’.

More precum dripped from his tip and had to fight back his fangs from slipping out.

He wanted to bend over and dart his tongue out to play with them. He wanted to tug on them and wanted you to arch your back with a soft moan.

You pulled down the shirt again and he flinched his hand back instantly, swallowing hard.

“So… if — when you have a baby and want to breastfeed… will there be an issue?”

Of course his need to breed you had to surface at the worst possible time.

But he had to know. He needed to know if that would be a nuisance. He couldn’t take any risks and he wanted you completely ready to carry his children.

You shrugged, adjusting the robe around you. “I wasn’t thinking that far ahead when I got them, but I suppose I just have to take them out.”

He nodded, taking a few steps back.

You stretched out with a yawn. “Mind if I go to sleep now?”

“Of course,” he nodded.

You were about to whirl on your feet, but decided against it. “How do you say ‘thank you’ in Spanish?”

That caught him off guard and his eyes widened. “Gracias.”

Then you gave him the sweetest smile. “Gracias, Miguel.

He could cum just from this alone.

How he would teach you the filthiest things in Spanish… how he would whisper them in your ear, knowing fully well you couldn’t understand a word…

You then slipped into his room and closed the door.

He ran both hands through his hair, wanting to let out a scream.

The things he wanted to do to you…

The things you deserved done to you…

He brought one hand down to tug at his waistband, revealing his soaked cock.

Then he bit the back of his other hand.

Hard.

He didn’t even care if he drew blood.

He couldn’t take this anymore.

Engulfed with overwhelming frustration, he pressed his forehead against the tall window that overlooked Nueva York.

He had to calm down, or else he’d have to synthesise a serum to lower his levels of testosterone…

He had to find a way to stop.

As minutes ticked by, he decided to check your bio readings on his watch. Your heart rate had lowered significantly, indicating him you were now asleep.

The predator in him took control again and he paced towards his bedroom, opening the door just enough to check on you.

Fast asleep.

He walked in with careful steps, finally taking in the sight of you on his bed.

The floor-to-ceiling windows allowed for the faintest moonlight to be cast on you.

He felt his heart was about to implode as he drew near, slowly sitting by the edge of the mattress.

You lay on your back, breathing evenly and covered up to your waist with a blanket.

Miguel took a deep and shaky breath.

You smelled of him and his bedsheets smelled of you.

Such a powerful and dangerous combination, that he almost considered gripping his cock.

Bur decided against it.

Instead, he say there, staring at you, absorbing every single detail of your body.

His hand twitched as an itch took over it.

An itch he had to scratch.

He reached out to graze the back of one finger along your forearm, feeling your warmth coating his skin.

His sweet girl…

His imagination ran wild and he had hoped he could have fucked you to sleep, not sliding out of you, making sure you’d take his seed.

Pain swallowed him whole as despair settled.

What if he never managed to make you his?

What if you decided you wanted nothing more than a friendship?

How could he cope?

Suddenly, you flinched and rolled to your side and heaved a deep sigh. “Oh, Tom…”

Miguel was left petrified and his blood ran cold.

Who the fuck was Tom?

Part 4

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x fem!reader

[literaila]

could you write a really fluffy peter Parker fic for Valentine’s Day (with banter ofc)

valentine, oh mine

tasm!peter x reader

a/n: this is not cute or fun or any of the things i aspire to be. it is painful. peter dies (he doesn’t). don’t read this.

*

“will you be my valentine?”

“hello, peter,” you answer, through your toothbrush. the words are deadpan. “i’m doing well, thank you. how are you?”

“better if you answer the question.”

you laugh, letting his response linger for a moment as you try to discern where, exactly, he is. your mouth tastes like spearmint, and it would be perfect to kiss him with. even though it’s monday, and almost midnight, and he shouldn’t be here.

for a whole multitude of reasons (number one being that you know he’ll keep you awake for at least a couple of hours more).

“where are you?” you ask him, listening to ruffling and a whine from the other end.

a manly whine, he might tell you, if you could see his face and make fun of it.

“stop deflecting. you don’t wanna be my valentine?” you can hear the frown.

and then there’s a horn, signaling absolutely nothing.

you spit into the sink, and put him on speaker as you rinse.

“i’ve gotta say that this is one of the more underwhelming valentine proposals i’ve gotten. you’re not even here. instead you’re…” you drawl, “where, again?”

“this is just further proof that i’m always thinking about you,” peter tells you, recalling an argument you’d had the day prior.

about how he wasn’t paying attention to you—or the conversation you were trying to have with him about one of your coworkers—but instead, according to him, thinking about you.

which did not help his case, of course. instead you’d given him the silence treatment for three minutes while he groveled—poorly.

and you doubt that he was thinking about valentine’s day when his eyes were glued to your lips the entire time.

“again,” you tell him, trying to hide the sound of a smile in your voice, “i would rather you just listen to me. answer my question and i’ll answer yours,” you bargain.

“how’s that fair? i asked first.”

“i asked second.”

peter sighs, and there’s a brief pause where he breaks up. you mess with the sound settings to no avail. up or down, his voice is distorted.

“are you—“ his voice wonders. “i was gonna tell you—“ and then a pause. and then. “are you giving me the silent treatment again?”

“cant hear you,” you hum. “somethings wrong with your phone.”

“how do you know it’s mine?” his voice enters again, breaking back and forth. another honking, and silence as he puts himself on mute.

because you’re no fool, and you know that peter would’ve answered the question already—if only to get you to answer his—if he didn’t know that you’d scold him for it.

“cause i can hear the wind while you swing,” you tease, though swallow, your voice is aiding the anger you should feel—because your boyfriend is a liar, and a traitor and you kinda hate him.

but you’re not really angry. you haven’t seen him since he left your house at six in the morning, so that’s probably why.

“i—“ there’s a pause. and then his voice is clear again. “that’s my hairdryer.”

“are you lying to me, peter?”

“it might even be the connection,” he continues, idly. “may’s been complaining about the service but i’ve been too busy to check the box, so—“

“are you still lying to me?”

you can almost see him swallow. “…no?”

“i told you not to call me when you’re out.”

“so you never want me to call you?” he asks, mock hurt. “when i’m not out, i’m always with you. i thought you liked my phone calls, and my voice if my memory serves me. someone really liked it—“

“you know what i mean.”

“do i?”

“peter parker, unless you want me to hang up—“

“okay, okay,” there’s still no swinging. “i’m sorry.”

“no, you’re not,” you whine, sitting on your bed and listening closely so he can’t trick you again.

“i actually am this time,” he swears. “i won’t do it again. but this is a very important matter.”

“swinging while talking is basically like texting and driving, and if i was doing that i’d be getting an earful from you.”

“it’s so not the same thing. first of all, spider senses, please keep up,” he tells you, laughing. “and who am i going to hurt in the open air?”

“a pigeon,” you say, almost angrily. “they’re an endangered species, you idiot.”

“they’re definitely not.”

“okay, then, yourself. who’s going to be my valentine if you slam into a wall and crack your head open?”

peter would not look cute without his skull, you remain firm on this fact.

you can hear his smile. “i knew you wanted to be my valentine.”

“before i knew you were lying to me.”

“you lie to me all of the time,” peter argues.

your brows furrow. “when?”

“when you said that you don’t like it when i call you,” he murmurs, almost soft, still teasing. “i know you do. you miss me.”

“i miss my boyfriend,” you answer, biting back some other remark about how you don’t miss him at all—honestly, you’re trying to prove that you’re not lying. “but apparently i’m talking to a superhero.”

“oh, did i forget to mention that? must’ve slipped my mind.”

“where are you now?” you ask. “it’s quiet.”

and then there’s a tap on the wall to your right.

“peter…”

“yes?”

“is that you?”

“maybe.”

“are you kidding?” you grumble, crawling on your knees to push back the curtains and open the window. you frown as you unlatch it, hands interrupted by other ones, doing the same thing. “how long have you been sitting out here?”

“since ‘are you lying?’ i think.” he says, in a terrible impression of your voice. “it’s cold.”

you pull him in by his wrist, immediately pushing him off when he tries to land on your bed on top of you.

peter pulls his mask off, smiling at you. “hi.”

“i’m mad. go take a shower.”

his fingers tip-toe up your arm, trying to get you to shiver. “are you really?” he hums.

“yes.”

“how can i make it up to you?”

“find me a better, non-lying valentine,” you tell him, pouting as you look away.

“is this supposed to be an answer?”

“why didn’t you just wait?” you ask instead. “if you were going to come here anyway, why didn’t you ask me in person instead of being a disappointment, and breaking a rule?”

“i don’t recall signing a contract…”

you groan, sitting up and crossing your legs as you look at him. unfortunately for you, his hair has fallen over his eyes just right, and you still want to kiss him.

“take me seriously.”

“i take everything you say,” he leans in, “very seriously.”

you push his nose. “you don’t.”

“i do!” he swears, grabbing your hand. “i’m listening. tell me what’s wrong.”

he says this condescendingly, because you already told him—kind of—but he knows that if you have to repeat it, you’ll break.

“this is why they say familiarity breeds contempt.”

peter smiles. “are you feeling contemptful right now?”

you nod.

he leans again, and you cant push him away. “how can i help?”

“you can apologize.”

peter’s smile grows softer as you look at him with eyes of steel, like he finds this version of you cute. your pout and your false anger, all bundled up into one perfect package.

just for him, you suppose.

he leans in some more, “i’m sorry,” he says, softly, just brushing your lips. “i was excited.”

you purse your lips, even while his are soft and teasing against them. it feels kind of like a feather brushing your skin, like peters got his own secret form of tickling you.

teasing you, like he always does. familiarity breeds contempt, and comfort, and confusion, and…

he kisses you fully, this time. a gentle peck. “i wanted to hear your voice,” he admits. “i’m impatient. i should listen to you more.”

“right…” you whisper, with him, as your only form of acknowledgement.

“i won’t call you while i’m out, okay? or i’ll pause somewhere.”

your brows are permanently fixed together. “don’t pause. just… get some headphones, or something.” you let your lips relax, finally, and they fall against his just as a consequence. “i like your voice too,” you admit, quietly, as an afterthought.

peters smile is bashful. “like wireless ones? not sure how that would work under the mask…”

“you made the suit,” you tell him, leaning back. “you cant figure it out, genius?”

“i’ll do it for you, i guess,” he sighs, but his fingertips trace the skin on both of your arms, simply because he’s that close.

“thank you.”

“are we done fighting now?”

you frown, pushing his hands away so you can cross your arms. “no. you really asked me to be your valentine over the phone?”

peter sighs, shaking his head. “i knew i should’ve gone with the skywriting.”

“or,” you say, rhetorically, “i don’t know, maybe a box of chocolates? flowers? a quick ‘hey, will you be my valentine?’ before you left this morning?”

“that’s so lame.”

“so is asking me over the phone.”

“i was excited,” peter argues. “i wanted an answer.”

“well you didn’t get one.”

“yes i did,” he tells you, finally grabbing your arm so he can pull you on top of him (because seriously, this is unfair).

“no.”

“you said i was your valentine,” he reminds you, tilting your head up so you’re looking at him.

“you’re mine,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “i never said i was yours.”

“wow,” peter murmurs. “that might be the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“please. i called you a vermin to may the other day.”

he pouts, childishly.

“ask me nicely,” you say, after a moment.

“i did.”

“ask me nicely again.”

there’s a pause where two stubborn people meet at a head—literally, head to head—and consider the prospects of losing this battle.

but peter is softer than you are, when you tease a smile on your lips, he breaks. “will you be my valentine?”

“hmm,” you ponder, looking away. “i’ll think about it. i mean, there’s a lot of options to choose from.”

peter bites your nose in retaliation and the two of you laugh until you’re dizzy

*

#ASK ME HOW MANY GIFS IVE TRIED #AAK #ask #tasm peter x reader #andrew!spiderman #the amazing spider-man #peter parker #peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #spider-man #the amazing spider man #tasm #tasm!peter x reader #tasm spiderman #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x you #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm!peter one shot #tasm!

[dirtyvulture]

Ceremony

Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Sergeant!Reader

18+ only read at your own risk

Summary: You get some (very nice) awards for your actions during Operation: Avalanche.

Word count: 1834

AN: Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

This is Part 4 of my Sergeant Beef AU, following the events of this fic.

“Why is all of this necessary?” you whine, pulling at your stiff collar. Natasha slaps your hand down as she fixes the medals and ribbons on your chest. 

“This is what you get for almost getting yourself killed,” she replies, although there is no malice in her tone. “Don’t worry. We can go back to my place afterwards and–”

“Finally,” you interrupt with a grin. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she chastises again, although you know she’s just as excited as you are to be back on your home turf for the first time in months. 

“How do I look? Would I pass your inspection this time?” you ask as she backs away from you, surveying you up and down. You’re leaning on one crutch still, but you’re glad that you don’t have to use a wheelchair anymore. 

“You look fantastic,” Natasha says, leaning in for a soft kiss. “Ready?”

“Let’s do it.”

She walks at your pace as you hobble out of the parking lot, joining the large group of people gathered on the lawn of the park. Most of them you hadn’t seen since before your deployment, which at this point feels years ago. Your entire team is here too, all of them crowding around you for hugs and handshakes. There’s too many things to be said but no privacy to say them in, so you promise that you’ll give them your time once you return to the base. Men and women with more medals and ribbons than you can count come over to thank you and wish you well. It feels odd being the center of attention and you’re not really sure you like it.

Peter Parker brought along his Aunt May and she gives you a hug that almost lifts you off the ground. She cries into your shoulder while thanking you for not leaving her nephew behind and you unexpectedly get a little choked up yourself. 

There’s also a camera crew from the local news station that asks you to sit down for a brief interview. You see Natasha watching you from behind the camera, a mixture of pride and worry on her face for you. She knows this event is emotionally and mentally draining for you, but she can’t be happier to be here celebrating your achievements with you. 

After the interview, you sit with her in the front row, you on the aisle side because you need space for your crutch. General Fury goes up to the stage and gives the opening speech. 

You zone out, hearing your name said a few times, but you don’t really care. Natasha nudges your knee with hers and you look up at her. She smiles bracingly which you return half-heartedly.  

“I would now like to welcome Sergeant Y/N to the stage,” Fury says, as everyone erupts into applause. You grab your crutch and Natasha stands with you. Slowly, you limp to the steps of the stage, Natasha hovering behind you carefully. You hop up each step, your face hot as you feel all eyes on you and you pray that you don’t accidentally trip in front of them. “Sergeant Y/N,” Fury says as you approach him. He is mindful to offer you his left hand so you can leave your right one holding onto your crutch. 

“It is with great honor that I present to you today the Purple Heart Award and the Distinguished Service Cross, for your bravery and actions during Operation: Avalanche. You did not hesitate to put yourself in certain danger to ensure your team’s safety, and because of your sacrifice, all six members of your team are here today. Thank you for your service and dedication to protecting this country, Sergeant Y/N.”

The applause sounds louder up here than your seat, and you stand tall as Fury pins your two new awards to your chest. Natasha is standing, probably clapping louder than anyone else, and her reaction makes you feel happier than the two awards you’ve just been given. 

“Thank you, General,” you say, saluting him with a tight voice. 

“Don’t thank me, Sergeant Y/N. I didn’t even write the speech,” he teases, standing next to you and posing for some pictures. 

***********************************************************************

After the ceremony, you skip your own after party to go home with Natasha. You give everyone the excuse that you’re tired, which isn’t technically a lie, but now you just want to spend time with Natasha. She brings you to her apartment, which is bigger and nicer than yours, but you don’t even have a second to revel in its familiarity when she pushes you into the bedroom. 

She helps unbutton your shirt, being very mindful of your new awards, taking it over to her closet to properly hang up. You can’t help but smile at how respectful she is when it's normally a desperate frenzy to get you undressed. You toss your crutch onto the floor, leaning most of your weight on your left leg while trying to simultaneously unbuckle your belt and take off your pants without falling over. 

By the time she comes over to you, she’s already naked herself and you can’t help but moan when she presses against you, skin-to-skin. She wraps her strong arms around your waist, helping keep you upright, leaning up to kiss you. You can tell she’s trying to be gentle with you, but you can feel her passion with the way her hands possessively run up your sides, skating carefully over the new, large scar along your ribs. Her nails dig into your back muscles to press you against her harder.

“Nat,” you whisper when you start to feel your right leg shaking. You know you lost some muscle mass and definition being cooped up in a hospital bed for months, but Natasha doesn't seem to mind. You're also embarrassed that you can’t stay standing for long, but Natasha pulls away to take your hand and lead you to the bed. You limp after her, immediately dropping to your knees on the mattress as she lays down in front of you.

“I really want you, Y/N,” she says, practically devouring you with her eyes alone. “But if you’re not up to it, I can wait.”

“I want you too, Nat. So much,” you reply, starting to jerk yourself off to hardness. It’s been months since you’ve had an opportunity to have her like this; as often as her visits to your room in the hospital were, you weren’t well enough to engage in her favorite activity the way you used to. It had been hard on both of you to have to wait, and part of you was nervous that you wouldn’t last that long or didn’t remember how to please her.   

“Okay. How do you want me?” Natasha asks, and it’s unusual for her to let you decide. But she seems to understand the importance of going at your pace and doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable.

“Uh…on your knees?” you suggest, not even sure what you’ll be able to handle. As long as the movement was minimal, you figure you’d be okay. 

“Okay.” Natasha kisses you again before turning to face away from you, presenting her perfect backside. Instinctively you grab onto it, shuffling forward until your cock bumps against her butt. You’re already throbbing at her touch but you want to make sure she’s near the same level as you.

You bend forward, your side protesting a little at the movement, but you push through, slipping your arm around her waist to drag your fingers through her folds. Natasha puts her hand on your wrist to guide you better, and you start panting in anticipation when you feel how wet she is.    

You dip your fingers into her while circling her clit and her body stiffens underneath you. You’re just glad you’re doing something right as she ruts back against you with a whine, guiding you to move faster and deeper. 

“Fuck, I think I’m already going to cum,” Natasha admits, tightening around your fingers. She forces you to stop moving so you wait for her next instruction. It makes you feel a little bit better that you’re not the only one with decreased stamina. “Are you ready, babe?” she asks. “I want to cum with you.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” you say, looking down at your hard cock that’s standing almost at a 90-degree angle. 

“Okay. Fuck me good, Y/N.”

Her words turn you feral almost instantly and you steady yourself by holding onto her waist with both hands, maybe a little harder than you intend because you don’t know how much longer you’ll be able to keep yourself upright, even in this kneeling position. The tip of your cock brushes against her hot center and this time, you don’t wait for further permission to enter her. You push in, her tight heat surrounding you, and you have to bite your lip to remind yourself not to cum immediately. 

“Fuck, Nat,” you grunt, afraid to move while you adjust to how perfectly she stretches around you. Your cock twitches when she pulls you in deeper and you finally move your hips in time with hers, although a little more slowly than you would have liked.

You moan like you haven’t been fucked in months, which is technically true, and Natasha pulses harder around you when she hears your reaction to her. She pushes back against your abs with some force, a little afraid that she’ll knock you over, but she’s so desperate to be filled by you. Her toys, her hands, and even yours would never compare to your cock. 

The bedroom quickly fills with the slick noises of your cock sliding in and out of her pussy. The pain in your side and thigh starts to become noticeable even with the numbing pleasure between your legs, and you realize you have to finish soon or you won’t get to at all. 

“Nat, I…I need to cum,” you beg, hoping she’s at her peak too. 

“Let go, babe,” Natasha says, curling her hands into the blankets and lifting her hips higher so you can piston against the sensitive spot inside of her. It takes a few more strokes that almost have you seeing stars before you unload, arching forward to bury yourself to the hilt as you pump out your seed in a few hard bursts. The pressure of being filled is enough to send Natasha over the edge, her cum dripping onto your cock as you pull out and collapse next to her on the bed, your chest heaving and sweat collecting around your neck. 

Natasha reaches out to you, wrapping herself around your body like a koala bear. Although she would love to go another round with you, she can tell you’re too exhausted and doesn’t want to push you. So as you slowly drift off to sleep, Natasha whispers in your ear how much she loves you and how she’ll never take you for granted again. 

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

AN: And things are basically back to normal for these two! :)

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader

[readerthatreadsss]

Requesting more dom!peter 😮‍💨🥵

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

𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝗡𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 | 𝗧𝗮𝘀𝗺!𝗣𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿

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

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

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Tasm!Peter Parker x Vigilante!Fem reader

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

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

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

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

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

It was a familiar routine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a load of horseshit.

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

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

Until...

*knock knock knock*

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

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

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

"Hi-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wasn't working very well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You okay?" he called for your attention.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that either of you cared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking enhanced senses, he cursed inwardly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn't have to wait long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fucking loved it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't pout," he smirked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter could damn near hear your thoughts spiraling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But?"

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

Peter swallowed harshly at your words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you mean?"

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

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

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

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

"Can you shut up and just come here?"

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

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

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

"Promise?"

"Promise."

#tasm peter parker #peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter smut #tasm!spiderman x you #tasm!peter x y/n #andrew!peter x reader #andrew garfield #marvel smut #smut #oneshot #welcome back #tasm!peter parker smut

[buckyysdoll]

— 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲! 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐡𝐜𝐬 — ╰┈➤ + more generalised dating headcanons ๋࣭ ⭑

જ⁀➴ 18+ MDNI — summary: pretty self explanatory — based on an old request from when i was @sjjwriting; <𝟑; cw: preg!reader, allusions to sex (eg, oral — f!rec), large (but legal) age gap, maybe ooc tony? i haven’t even yet seen the ‘iron man’ films, so shoot me now :’), brief mention of praise/degradation kink, daddy kink; tony still dies at end :( !! pairing: tony stark x fem!reader

MAIN MASTERLIST

• okay this may seem morally questionable but there's gonna be a pretty big age gap

• as in, if tony's in his forties during the franchise as we know it, then you’re gonna be in your early/mid twenties. SO I PROMISE IT’S LEGAL, OKAY?

• you met when tony got involved with peter parker, as you lived with him and aunt may in new york. you weren’t related, but she’d been best friends with your mother since her own teen years, and when your parents had passed she had taken you in as her own. you loved her to bits

• peter was a good few years younger than you, and hence like a brother figure — one who annoyed you like hell, but that you still loved just the same.

• cut forward to the avengers’ era when you and T are in an established relationship -> you’re part of their circle and already it feels like home at the compound — you just fit right in

• and while that means you’re one of the group and you couldn’t be more thrilled, tony absolutely hates the way that you're so quick to endanger yourself in his eyes

• therefore — frequent and explosive arguments when you want to get involved but he simply won't let you

• — "tony you can't shut me out of this! i have every right to help if i want to.”

• — "no, you have every right to back the hell away and not get yourself killed because of me."

• but still, the avengers swiftly came to be like family to you

• you and natasha get close as you're nearer in age than a lot of the others are to you; you and her have girls nights out, and tony puts you to bed when you come home drunk

• essentially, in other words, you’re getting the princess treatment all. the. time.

• eg, being the only one that can touch/do certain things around the compound

• and as per sugar daddy! regimen, of course tony stark just spoils you rotten

• and i mean full-on, absolutely dotes on you — both gift giving and touch are his two main love languages

• for example, if you’ve had a bad day? there's his credit card -> "go cheer yourself up a little, honey"

• at first, his fellow avengers are kinda 👀 about such a vast age gap, but they see the way the two of you are with each other — just different. complete.

• because who he is [apart from] and [with you] are like two fully separate people, to be honest.

• nat seeing him in a good mood: “who are you, and what’ve you done to tony?”

• he’s just obsessed with you to be honest, and as such way too overprotective

• — “and where exactly are you going in that dress?"

• — "out for drinks with natasha?”

• — “like hell you are"

• you being like the mom friend even to the members of the group much older than you

• somehow being perfect for tony when his bold hotheadedness is met with your even calm.

• no one ever would’ve thought of him as likely to settle down, but when he met you that was it — his days of being playboy were suddenly behind him

• you host the stark parties with him and look like a young trophy wife on his arm; at least, that's how it appears to the people on the outside who don't know how much you're in love

• sitting on his lap in avengers’ meetings with your arm across his shoulder and his own around your waist

• easy domestic sweetness at the compound — heads resting on shoulders, hands held just because. a cup of coffee made and a kiss on the cheek; soft, whispered “i love you”s at night.

• walking around the compound in just his oversized shirt and your panties, not sparing so much as a single thought for the other avengers you happened to live with. instead, you bet your ass you’ll just walk straight into the kitchen, tony’s hand in yours and a question to ask: “morning guys, who wants coffee?”

• the rest of the group being extremely protective of you, too — especially natasha and steve

• the latter, of course, wants to know exactly what his intentions are with you; and Tony's response is pretty much exactly what you'd expect — not happy at all

• — it went something like, "it's not the 1940s anymore, rogers. in modern terms, that means mind your own business."

• meanwhile, natasha just opted straight for the threat on behalf of her friend; for the girl who was like the sister she felt she’d been missing for most of her life: "you'd better take care of her, tony. i may be your friend, but i’m still an assassin.”

• peter parker, already like an aforementioned brother, called you “mrs stark” way prematurely despite how you’d known him for most of your life. you thought it was cute, and he was in pure shock on the day you first told him you and tony were dating.

• in reality though, by now, tony's had an engagement ring stored away for ages; all he needs now is the courage to actually ask, but the goddamn question just won’t come out.

• and who is it who, eventually, gives him the advice that makes him finally do it? none other than rogers himself, who tony is now reluctantly grateful to know.

• because it turned out that tony was surprisingly insecure about the age gap, but tried hard to hide it. and when you eventually found out you couldn’t quite believe that he was actually saying these words.

• you’d never loved anyone the way you loved him — and yet, he didn’t even see why you did? he didn’t understand why someone so young and vibrant and beautiful as you would ever want to settle with a man “past his prime” and who came with a “fuck ton of emotional baggage.”

• and so only you three knew the truth of your love’s well-kept facade: the great Tony Stark wasn’t quite so arrogant as he’d have the world believe.

• though he was close enough to it <3

• so, you savoured the time spent proving it to him — how you feel — with your hands, mouth, tongue. Sex with tony is certainly an experience, going rougher when you want it but so tender when you don't.

• and let me tell you that man gets pussydrunk as hell and it drives him insane.

• just imagine this level-headed genius who approaches every problem and scenario with logic, suddenly unable to focus past the hard-on in his jeans because you sent him a dirty text while he was in the middle of a meeting

• and you do that a lot — teasing him in public is your new favourite thing; a photo of you scantily dressed or a message saying just what you'll do to him later

• his hand is always on your thigh when driving, or when just sitting anywhere in public/at the compound.

• he’ll also deliberately tease you in public or when you’re both with the others at home, just to watch you blush and struggle through attempts at conversation while his hand beneath the table’s roaming higher up your skirt

• tony’s had so many meetings with the other avengers that he’s had to cut short — all because of you, because he needs you right there and then, and can’t seem to wait a single moment longer

• not that you’re complaining

• he takes you on dinner dates in restaurants where he still insists he pays; even after all this time spent together, he’s never once stopped trying to romance and treat you <3

• he’ll leave a box with a bow on your shared, kingsize bed and within it? — a dress and a note: wear this for me tonight, and be ready for 7. love you, honey, it reads

• and good lord, the man has very expensive good taste — it feels too much !

• but it appears that he literally cannot stop buying you gifts; that man is whipped as fuck and he knows it, yet somehow wouldn’t change it for all the world.

• you two often leave for the bathroom at most social functions, like you’re teenagers again. but what can he do, when there’s a counter right there waiting for you to sit on, for him to kneel before as he slides that thin scrap of lace down your knees, off your ankles, to the floor?

• but still, he’s a perfect gentleman in public — a hand on your lower back to guide you through crowds.

• going to black tie events on his arm as his "pretty, young thing,” turned eventual wife

• let's be real, there’s a clear daddy kink. also heavy on the praise, maybe light degradation? pet names "sweetheart,” "honey,” “baby" — the latter mainly after a fight

• you being the only one that can make him see reason, despite how you often have your differences, too.

• most of your fights come from when he’s trying to martyr himself for the world, yet still you're the only one that can humble him, who he’d get down on his knees and beg for.

• having to be protected because you're with a man in such a high position of wealth

• "mrs stark” 💅🏻 has such a good ring to it now, much better than “that young girl he’s with”

• jealous and protective tony when men make their thoughts of you quite plain; and though he’s rich and successful — now an old household name — he’s not above the odd fight for your honour 😌

• absolutely adoring happy, who’s now become your personal security guard, too. you get along so well and to him, you’re both like a good friend and a kind of daughter figure in one

• even after all this time, you still team up with peter to tease mr stark ♡

• the four of you are like a family — five, once your little baby daughter is born <3

• and of course, she’s a daddy’s girl too — just like her mama, and who really could blame you?

• when you're pregnant his protectiveness absolutely ricochets up several notches; not to mention his own hormones for the mother of his child ;) -> those too have risen <3

• so now he’s far less subtle and even more of a total, stubborn pain in your ass ♡

• nine months come and pass, and all the while tony is just worried sick. he’s desperate to stop doing missions, but when the world needed saving — what choice did he have?

• and so you become a young mother to your sweet baby girl and let tony do just what he has to; and when he doesn't come home you’ve become a young widow left to raise your daughter without her daddy </3

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#fanfic #tony stark dilf #fanfic writer #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fandom #tony stark #tony stark x you #tony stark x reader #tony stark fic #tony stark fluff #tony stark smut #tony stark x fem!reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x f!reader #tony stark x female reader #tony stark x wife!reader #tony x y/n #tony x you #tony x reader #iron man #iron man x you #iron man x y/n #iron man x reader #iron man x female reader #iron man fanfiction #iron man fanfic #tony stark headcanon #tony stark imagine #tony stark headcanons

[nekokoaa]

The Agreement - Miguel O'Hara x Therapist!Reader (I)

Summary: It was simple. No kissing. No sex. Hugs and hand-holding only. The goal was to help Miguel feel a little less lonely sometimes. That was your job as one of the therapists at HQ, to mentally stabilize everyone’s mind, including the boss’s.

In other words, you and Miguel make a deal.

Rated Explicit, fluff, smut

1.3K words | (1/5) chapters

Author's notes: Yes I came back just to jump on the Miguel train! :) I love Across the Spider-verse and I love Miguel. I just wanna comfort him and I’m sure you do too! Enjoy!

Also on AO3

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I.

It started as an agreement and then came the first session. Honestly, you’ve seen your fair share of trauma being a therapist for Spider-people, hell, you’ve even gone through it yourself. Losing Aunt May, Peter L. Parker, and then Harry… you were never the same again. Yet you learned how to cope, how to survive. You made trauma your bitch and it was all due to understanding your psyche. And… also because of your Ph.D. in psychology. So it wasn’t a surprise that your schedule was always packed with various spider-people from different dimensions. Everyone wanted to know your secret. Everyone wanted to know how you were able to move on. It was the same story—different variations, sometimes in a different order. It was plaguing their minds, some coped by burying their heads in their work, others just lived with the guilt. But a few, like Miguel, were always reliving it.

Miguel O’Hara. Spider-Man 2099. You didn’t know much about him other than the fact that he was undergoing the same canon-event trauma as the other Spider-people. You didn’t know which ones since he never shared it in his first mandatory session. The only thing he was willing to share was his desire for a family and the mistake he made that cost an entire dimension to collapse.

Later, his sessions felt more like a briefing of your work, gauging the mental state of all spider-people to know if they're capable of working. You would always tell him the session was supposed to be about him but he would brush it off, saying he had too much work to do before leaving your office. And as always, you would watch his retreating back. His shoulders looked so broad, they could hold mountains—perhaps holding the weight of the multiverse could do that to you. A wise man once told you, “with great power comes great responsibility—strength, resilience.” But you knew what great power could also do to a man.

If the loneliness spewing from his demeanor wasn’t obvious enough.

Today it was your turn to enter Miguel’s office. Upside down, you tread along the ceiling, your hair obeying gravity and hanging limply in the air.

His office was mostly dark with an orange glow from the holograms in front of his monitors. You didn’t miss when he quickly swiped one of them away, his back stilling.

You were sure Miguel already knew you were here.

You lowered yourself with your web, turning your body upright until your feet reached the floor of the floating platform. He turned his head, not enough to look at you but enough to acknowledge your presence. His shoulders look wider— trembling even. 

Sadness? You stepped forward and he turned back to face the monitors, fingers tapping away against the orange holograms. No, it was anger.

Minutes went by of silence until Miguel’s hands dramatically dropped to his sides, sighing. “What are you doing here?”

You smiled lightly, stepping forward. “Our first session, remember?”

“Don’t tell me you were serious about that,” he spitted out, hands returning to the holograms. He was investigating an anomaly that appeared on Earth-55, it was probably that villain belonging to Earth-1001. Lately, he’s been jumping from dimension to dimension, and not because he had the ability to do so. Miguel’s been tracking him down for days and trying to figure out what could be causing the rifts in the dimensions. 

Meaning: he hasn’t been getting any sleep.

Miguel was a spider-man shouldering the very existence of all spider-people universes. With the connections of fate being as fragile as a spider’s web, a day of rest could be detrimental.

To feel as though you’re the only Spider-Man in the room while being surrounded by spider-people who understood you the most was a feeling Miguel was too familiar with. He never mentioned it in his sessions but you could see it in how he carried himself in front of his agents, how he stared at Peter B and Mayday, and how he looked when you first caught him rewatching himself with “his” daughter. Certainly, he was reliving his trauma.

“Of course,” you stepped forward until you stood directly behind him. His body stilled when your arms slowly encircled his waist. You could feel his muscles tensing. His fingers froze in the air. The orange glow from the holograms deepened like it was spreading to your bodies. “Weren’t you?”

You whispered and Miguel didn’t say a thing. Of course, he was warm like you imagined when you were preparing yourself for this. The scowl on his face often gave an impression that he was as cold as he looked. But he was very much alive like the rest of you—alive with emotions.

When you suggested he seek affection from someone to mend his trauma (that he never admitted having), he looked at you dumbfounded.

“Sometimes all we need is a hug, maybe a hand to hold to get rid of those troublesome feelings.”

And when you suggested that “someone” could be you, Miguel thought you were losing your sanity. It was no easy feat to convince him of the agreement. It took a few weeks until you got a very very annoyed “Okay” from him, probably to stop you from always bringing it up whenever you saw him.

It was simple. No kissing. No sex. Hugs and hand-holding only. The goal was to help Miguel feel a little less lonely sometimes. That was your job as one of the therapists at HQ, to mentally stabilize everyone’s mind, including the boss’s.

You rested your head against the middle of his back, arms tightening around him. You expected him to say something but he stayed silent, reddish-brown eyes staring into the monitors. It wasn’t just Miguel who was warm, but the space around you too—like the energy had shifted the moment you touched him. 

Your skin under your suit started to prickle as if it was being pinched. The orange tinge of the holograms slowly blended into a deep red, the temperature rising as sweat appeared at your temple. Miguel could probably feel your heart rattling against his back. But like a rock, his muscles tensed up and his hands closed into fists.

Everything in your mind was telling you to let him go but you held on despite sensing the anger rising within him. Since losing his “daughter”, Miguel had closed himself to affection. Usually responding in annoyance or anger if he were to receive it. He had accepted his destiny long ago of being a loner. And any ounce of affection reminded him of his loss—and what he could lose.

Miguel’s hand moved on top of yours. Hissing in pain, you pulled your arms away from his body and immediately looked at your hand. His claws had pricked you. Thankfully, there was no blood.

“Session’s over, doc. That’s enough.” His voice was laced with venom. This time he partly turned to look at you and your heart sank seeing his deep red eyes. The outline of his figure was stained by the burgundy hue of the holograms. Perhaps the trauma of Miguel O’Hara was deeper than you thought. Your spidey senses were telling you to get out of there. This time you listened.

“Okay,” you shot your web towards the ceiling, quickly propelling yourself up and out of his office. Miguel sighed, burying his head in his hands before returning to his work.

Next Chapter

#miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x you #marvel #sony #spider man: across the spider verse #spider man: into the spider verse #fanfiction #fluff #angst #smut

[mariacallous]

Earlier this month, the Alabama Supreme Court issued an opinion, complete with a wildly theocratic concurrence from Chief Justice Thomas Parker, that functionally outlawed in vitro fertilization (IVF) in the state.

In the wake of the ruling, Republicans have tried to unwind this mess, with the Alabama legislature considering passing a law to ensure IVF access and Donald Trump coming out to say he strongly supports access to IVF. 

All of this is a bit of rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic, as the damage is done. The entire spectacle was inevitable once the GOP gave the party over to anti-choice zealots decades ago.

In brief, the reason the Alabama Supreme Court’s opinion implicates and outlaws IVF is that the state has a Wrongful Death of a Minor statute, and the court decided this applies to “all unborn children, without limitation.” But there’s no language in the statute that says this. Rather, it’s just that over the last 15 years, the Alabama Supreme Court has issued a series of rulings saying that the undefined term “minor child” in the statute can be stretched to “unborn children” regardless of what state of development the embryo is at. Once the court created such an expansive definition, the decision that frozen embryos are people was inescapable. 

To be fair, though, the Alabama Supreme Court is entirely made up of conservative Republicans, they were a bit hamstrung in their decision. Alabama’s state constitution states that “it is the public policy of this state to ensure the protection of the rights of the unborn child in all manners and measures lawful and appropriate." But that doesn’t necessarily mean the court was required to, as it did here, extend that “unborn child” definition to what it calls “extrauterine children” — embryos frozen by people pursuing IVF. 

That IVF is even controversial is an indictment of the GOP

An IVF cycle is designed to produce multiple eggs that can be retrieved in one procedure. The more eggs produced, the greater the likelihood of a viable embryo that can be implanted, hopefully resulting in a pregnancy. Because of this, multiple embryos often remain, and people freeze those for several reasons. People may use them if the first attempt at implantation doesn’t work, thus avoiding multiple egg retrieval cycles. They may save them for later if they decide to have more children. They may donate them to other people struggling with fertility issues. 

For people not saddled with the misguided anti-choice belief that a tiny clump of cells is the same as a person, this is a non-controversial process. It enhances the chance of pregnancy and allows people to plan for future children without undergoing multiple invasive egg retrieval cycles. But if one subscribes to the notion of fetal personhood — that a fetus is quite literally a person, with all the attendant privileges that confers — then those frozen embryos are the same as babies. 

This is, of course, a religious, not scientific belief. Chief Justice Parker, in his concurring opinion, made clear that his vote, at least, stems directly from his religious beliefs rather than being grounded in the law. Citing Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, John Calvin, the Ten Commandments, and the King James Bible, Parker concludes that “even before birth, all human beings bear the image of God, and their lives cannot be destroyed without effacing his glory.”

Notably, none of those things are legal precedent. Indeed, in a country founded on the separation of church and state, they shouldn’t inform a court holding. However, since religious conservatives dominate the US Supreme Court, that separation has largely collapsed. This has emboldened conservative litigants and conservative state and federal judges to take ever more anti-choice stances. 

Reproductive health activists have been sounding the alarm about the anti-choice attacks on IVF for years, particularly in the wake of the Dobbs decision overturning Roe v. Wade. At least two prominent anti-choice groups, Americans United for Life and Students for Life, have railed against IVF. The chief legal officer for Americans United for Life, Steve Aden, called IVF “eugenics” and said that IVF created “embryonic human beings” that were destroyed in the process. Students for Life called IVF “damaging and destructive.”

These same anti-choice groups also hate birth control, and the Dobbs decision paved the way for them to mount a theocratic attack on it too. Christopher Rufo, who ginned up a panic over benign diversity initiatives and helped force out the first Black president of Harvard, Claudine Gay, has already telegraphed that this is his next attack.

Over on Elon Musk’s increasingly Nazi-fied social media site, X, Rufo is spewing rhetoric about how “the family structure disintegrated precisely as access to birth control proliferated” and that recreational sex is bad and leads to single-mother households. 

Rufo isn’t alone. The Heritage Foundation, which is also busy with a blueprint for a second Trump presidency that would destroy the administrative state and whose leader is still pushing the big lie that Trump won the 2020 election, has also called for the end of birth control. Also over on X, Heritage’s official account posted last year that “a good place to start would be a feminist movement against the pill and … returning the consequentiality to sex.”

And there you have it. Religious conservatives are calling for a return to a world where sex isn’t recreational or for pleasure but is instead fraught with consequences — namely, pregnancies that can’t be terminated even when the pregnant person’s life is in danger. To do this, however, they would need to succeed in getting the Supreme Court to overturn Griswold v. Connecticut, the 1965 case that invalidated restrictions on birth control. 

More importantly, Griswold affirmed the constitutional right to privacy. It’s that right that not only underpinned the right to an abortion in Roe but also underpins other cases related to the rights of Americans to pursue sexual and marital relationships without government interference. In Lawrence v. Texas, decided in 2003, the Supreme Court relied upon Griswold to throw out laws that criminalized sexual contact between members of the same sex. Twelve years later, that same reasoning was used in Obergefell v. Hodges to affirm a constitutional right to same-sex marriage. 

Justice Clarence Thomas hates the right to privacy and has made no secret he wants it gone. In his concurring opinion in Dobbs, he called on the Court to “reconsider” all these cases and overrule them as “demonstrably erroneous.” Justice Samuel Alito has been a bit more evasive about this, writing in Dobbs that “nothing in this opinion should be understood to cast doubt on precedents that do not concern abortion.” However, Alito’s Dobbs opinion is littered with references to “fetal life” and how abortion destroys an “unborn human being.” As recently as last week, Alito wrote a statement decrying Obergefell because he doesn’t think it’s fair that people who are bigots about same-sex marriage ever get called bigots. 

It isn’t just Thomas and Alito. During her confirmation hearing, Justice Amy Coney Barrett refused to say whether she thought Griswold, Lawrence, and Obergefell were rightly decided. In 2012, she signed an open letter stating that the Affordable Care Act’s required coverage for birth control was an assault on religious liberty. Similarly, Justice Brett Kavanaugh, in his confirmation hearing, also wouldn’t say whether Griswold was correctly decided. Justice Neil Gorsuch did the same. 

That makes five likely votes — with Chief Justice John Roberts a possible sixth — for a rollback of privacy rights in America. With that pillar of law gone, states would be free to outlaw same-sex marriage, get rid of birth control, and impose any other theocratic conditions they’d like. 

The dog that caught the car

Right now, Republicans are scrambling to undo the damage they’ve wrought, realizing that an anti-IVF stance is alienating to most. Last year, the Pew Research Center found that 42 percent of adults had used fertility treatments or knew someone who had. From 1996 to 2018, over 1 million babies were born as a result of fertility treatments. Mike Pence has spoken publicly about how he and his wife used IVF and that the procedure should be protected. 

In Alabama, Republican legislators are planning to introduce a law that would say the embryo isn’t a person until implanted in a uterus. But legislation doesn’t trump the state constitution, which means the Alabama courts could throw out any law they deem contrary to their fetal personhood interpretation of the constitution. Several Alabama fertility clinics have stopped IVF services, citing the legal risk. The state’s GOP attorney general, Steve Marshall, said he wouldn’t use the decision to prosecute IVF providers or people seeking IVF treatment, but that’s a slender reed to rely upon. What provider or patient wants to rely upon the vague assurances of the attorney general rather than a law that protects access?

And it isn’t just IVF. Elected officials in states that have banned abortion have openly mocked those people who have come forward with horror stories of being refused abortions even as they developed sepsis or faced the possibility of permanent future infertility. Doctors have no clear guidance on when they can terminate a pregnancy to save the life of the pregnant person, leaving them vulnerable to prosecution. People who currently have frozen embryos have no idea what to do with them, and nor do clinics. If the hardest-line anti-choice people get their way, access to birth control will become as spotty and politicized as access to abortion is now. 

This type of amorphous fear is a feature, not a bug, of the post-Dobbs landscape. When the entire spectrum of reproductive health is murky, and the threat of prosecution looms large, doctors won’t perform abortions or IVF treatments. Patients won’t seek abortions even as their health deteriorates to a level that could result in death. People who can get pregnant will have their lives narrowed to nearly nothing as they try to sidestep the landmines of an ever-shifting jurisprudence over their bodies. 

And that’s exactly the way conservatives want it, no matter their current feeble attempts to get out from under an IVF disaster of their own making. The GOP made common cause with the worst people in the country on this issue, and now we’re all stuck with the consequences. 

[justsomerandomfanfic]

A Quarter Past Ten - Peter Parker (Andrew) X GN Reader

Title: A Quarter Past Ten

Peter Parker (Andrew) X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Random made-up book characters

Requested By: Anon!

WC: 1,929

Warnings: Suggestive, Fabio-esque books, Peter's shocked by your book's contents, playful biting?, teasing, flirting, banter, nicknames, very brief mentions of death, italics, and fluff

It was raining. You could hear the soft pitter-patter against the roof and the glass of your bedroom window. It sounded lovely, soothing, almost like a lullaby; though, you weren’t tired. You were lounging in your bed, leaning against your plush headboard, with your equally plush, blue comforter over your bottom half; wearing one of Peter’s hoodies that you may or may not have stolen three weeks prior.

You were hardly seen without the navy blue, zip-up hoodie. It had become your second skin. It was basically your comfort blanket for when Peter went off into the night - or day for that matter - to save the people of New York as the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. Peter would sometimes joke around with you - knowing he'd never get it back - that you should at least wash it, and you do, you just make sure to wash it when you're at Peter's place, so it continued to smell like him. In all seriousness, the scent of Peter was what made you feel safe - because it smelt like home.

Speaking of the Spiderling, he was cozily laying sideways on your bed, legs dangling off of it as he laid his head on your lap. His eyes were closed, his chest was rising with every breath, and his hair was slightly messed up from the way you were continuously running your fingers through it. He looked peaceful even though he wasn't sleeping or napping. He was trying too, but as usual, his mind was racing faster than his body was willing. And as always, you wanted to help him stay calm.

So you did what any partner would do; you brushed his hair back from his forehead and smoothed down the hair at the top of his head. Leaning forward, you pressed a small kiss onto his forehead, right between his eyebrows before going back to the book in your free hand; your pinkie and thumb holding it open as you carefully entered the next chapter.

"What time is it?" Peter's soft voice spoke up, making you blink away from the words on the page, glancing down at him, to the alarm clock on your bedside table, and back to your book.

"A quarter past ten... So, ten fifteen." You muttered, keeping your voice at the same calming level as his. "You staying the night?" You then asked, wetting your bottom lip before lifting your hand from Peter's hair and turning the page before returning your hand back into his hair. 

It was silent for a moment as he shifted to his side, his nose pressing against your hoodie-covered stomach, "I'm staying," He let out a big sigh, his arms coming up to wrap around your body, fingers linking together behind you. "Unless you're gonna kick me out."

You huffed out a small laugh, pushing the hairs from his forehead that migrated there after he moved; slightly static. "I'm not kicking you out. That would be quite rude of me, wouldn't it? Out into the cold and rain?" You mused, glancing down at him to see the corners of his lips twist into a grin, and you returned his smile with your own.

"Yeah... It would be pretty rude of you," He replied, letting out a small sigh as he spoke while moving his shoulder slightly. "Kicking your poor boyfriend out into the cold and rain. To die."

You sputtered out a laugh, shaking your head lightly at his words as you looked away from your book and down at him, meeting his gaze, "You wouldn't die... You can't even get sick, Pete."

"Still," Peter shut his eyes once more, "It'll be on your conscience if something happens."

You let out a small scoff, looking away from him again, only to meet his eyes once more, "You so sure about that, my love?" Your voice was teasing now, playful in its tone as your free hand came up to rest on his cheek, caressing it softly.

Peter lightly rolled his eyes, subconsciously nuzzling his cheek into your hand before he suddenly raised your hoodie and shirt slightly, just at your ribcage. You watched, chuckling lightly, an eyebrow raised as Peter then shuffled closer, his cold nose pressing up against the warm skin of your stomach; and you could tell that he was smiling.

"What are you doing?" You asked, laughing through your words, and shifting in your seat as his nose tickled the skin on your abdomen; causing goosebumps to form on your body. But, Peter said nothing, continuing to cover his head with your shirt and his hoodie, effectively hiding his face from view. As he settled, you looked down at him for a short while before deciding to go back to your book, believing that he was just going to lay there and you weren't complaining. You didn't know how much time had passed, but you were well into your book, lost in the story. The author was one of your favorites, loving all of her works and how real and vivid they felt; you loved how she painted the world with a vibrant green palette that blended seamlessly and perfectly with the setting in the story. It was like magic. Your mind had become a theater for the characters that were written in the pages, and you were almost done with it. 

You already had the second book in the series ready for when you were done with the first. You were just going to flip to the next page when you felt Peter move, you paused, but you continued reading, only for you to feel hot breath, slightly wetness, and a set of teeth gently sink into your abdomen. He didn't chomp, nor did he nibble, but he just lightly bit down. It didn't hurt, it only tickled and you were greatly surprised as you looked down at the boy, who was still buried under your hoodie. "Peter," You bit your bottom lip, trying to sound stern despite your giggles, "Did you just bite me?"

"Maybe," His voice was muffled, "Karma."

"Karma..?" You laughed out, setting down your book, quickly marking your page with your bookmark before pulling open the collar of your shirt and his hoodie, peeking down to see Peter's face pressed against your torso - as if he did nothing wrong, "Just because I said I wouldn't have guilt on my conscience?"

Peter let out a deep breath from his nose, chilling the area that he had previously 'bitten.' "Maybe." He repeated in the same nonchalant tone, "Are you done reading yet?"

"Awe," You cooed, letting go of your collar and picking your book back up, "Is my poor baby bored?"

Peter huffed again, bringing his legs up from laying over the side of the bed, basically curling up around you; like some cat. "It is almost eleven."

You hummed, turning a page before letting your free hand rest on his shoulder, gently rubbing at the rough knots that were forming, "But I'm getting to such a good part." You feigned disappointment, lightly biting your bottom lip again as you felt Peter's eyelashes flutter against your skin. 

"Read to me then?" He then asked softly, and how could you refuse?

Clearing your throat lightly, your fist covering your mouth, you returned your hand to his shoulder, lightly grading your nails across his skin before speaking. "’Bartholomew's eyes were-"

"Bartholomew?" Peter chuckled, laughing at the name as you shushed him, lightly tapping his shoulder with your hand.

"Shush, you asked me to read, let me read." You softly scolded the web-slinger before continuing, "Anyway... As I was saying, 'Bartholomew's eyes were a deep shade of green, flecked here and there with golden flecks.'" You paused, flipping the page, "'Adelia felt as if she was sinking within those deep pools of green and gold until her lungs were full to the brim with the wonderful fragrance of pine wood and Bartholomew's natural musk. It wafted off of him in layers, enveloping her in a sea of sweet odors, and she longed for more; she felt intoxicated, drunk off it.'" You continued, pausing momentarily before continuing once more, "As she drowned in the sweetness of Bartholomew's embrace, she began to think that she was truly in heaven. She didn't want to leave this spot, this paradise, this haven where no one else existed but the two of them."

Peter actually was beginning to like the story, even though he wasn't the biggest fan of Victorian romance novels, he was enjoying this one. "Well, that's nice..." He muttered, but he had spoken too soon.

"'Adelia's breath hitched as his hand lay free to slowly unlace her-"

"Woah!" Peter exclaimed, interrupting you, pushing himself from his little, hidden sanctuary under your shirt, and lifting himself onto his hands. His eyes were wide, staring at you before looking at your book and back. "I was not expecting that. That went from like, ten to a hundred real fast."

"Really?" You asked with a small laugh, turning the book towards him so he could look at the cover. "It is quite obvious from the cover." You gestured to it, the cover indeed showing a scantily-clad woman, holding onto a man's abs, his white, ruffled shirt ripped open. The both of them were standing in what seemed to be a rose garden. The title read, 'Desires Unleashed.' You smirked at his reaction. 

He turned back towards you, "Is that a Fabio book?”"

"A Fabio book?" You questioned with amusement, tilting your head slightly. “No, it’s not a Fabio book.”

Peter pursed his lips before a small grin slithered onto his face, “I didn't think you were into these types of books..." He trailed off, lightly teasing as he tilted his head to the side as he spoke. You shrugged, nodding your head with a small laugh escaping your lips.

"Yeah, I am. I love every single word, every single sentence, and every single character." You smiled before shrugging a shoulder. "Besides, I don't think you can say anything about it until you actually read the whole thing. It's not that bad-"

Peter blinked rapidly, almost speechless, "Not that bad? Honey, sweetheart, love of my life..."

"Yes..." You trailed off, tilting your head to the side, fluttering your eyes coyly, giving him puppy dog eyes and a slight pout. Peter let out a defeated sigh, rolling his eyes as he let himself fall back onto his back beside you. 

"It's- It's not bad, per se, I just can’t get over my partner reading a Fabio book." He stumbled over his words.

"Not Fabio, but you technically asked for it." You grinned down at him as he covered his eyes with his arm, his cheeks tinged a light pink. At the small bit of silence, you hummed, grabbing your book again, "And you know that I am full of surprises, my love. Now..." You began, shifting your eyes back down at him, "Should I continue reading?"

Peter grumbled stubbornly, "Might as well..." He sighed, "I'm invested at this point." You laughed, rolling your eyes.

"Whatever you say, Spider-Fabio.”

There was a moment of silence, as Peter blinked at you, “Spider-Fabio? Really?” He bit his bottom lip, one of his hands coming up to scratch at his cheek, “That’s terrible.” He laughed, making you huff and slightly pout your lips.

“It was either that, or Fabider-Man.”

Peter nodded, his laughter subsiding as he took his place back with his head in your lap, “Yeah,” He muttered, his arms looping around you once more, “Spider-Fabio is a much better option.”

---

Main Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

#cute #fluff #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #x you #x y/n #request #requested by anon #spiderman #spider-man #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x gn reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #tasm #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #the amazing spiderman #amazing spider man #tasm!peter x you #tasm spiderman #tasm x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter parker

[boxofbonesfic]

𝒪𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒰𝓅𝑜𝓃 𝒜 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒…

I’m Bones, and I’m celebrating a huge milestone—10k followers! I am so honored that so many people enjoy my work, and I am so grateful for the friends and relationships I have cultivated here, and what better way to celebrate those things than with a challenge? I think we all know that the sanitized, kid-friendly version of most fairytales are nowhere near their grim, grisly original tellings. For this challenge, I would like to return to those bleak, terrifying roots, and come up with something darkly fantastical! 

For this challenge, I would like to both pay homage to my own roots, and the theme of my blog. Participants will pick one of the following 10 fairytales (or, to be fancy, you can use the spinner I made!) and then turn out the lights. This is a dark challenge, and, more than their originals, your entries should have a dark twist. Use your imaginations! Maybe Cinderella doesn’t get what she hoped for in her Prince Charming, or perhaps the story of Rapunzel that we know is not how things truly happened—it’s up to you! But your story must be dark—whether that is explicit, or revealed slowly through the events of your story, is, again, completely up to you! You can use the Roster of Accepted Characters to choose your fighter (lol)! Now, onto the rules!

 𝑅𝓊𝓁𝑒𝓈: 

18+ ONLY. This is a dark challenge, and while smut is not a requirement, I think the general subject matter, as well as the themes, will be inappropriate for minors. Smut is not necessary, but it is encouraged. 😏

Challenge opens 4/01/23, and will continue until the end of summer! September 1st! end on my birthday! 06/09/23! (The first of April to the ninth of June for my folks who do D/M/Y instead of M/D/Y lol)

YOUR WORK MUST MEET THE CHALLENGE BRIEF. If your work does not meet the challenge brief (A DARK retelling of a classic fairytale) I will not be reblogging it, and it will not be included in the challenge masterlist. I will not be making exceptions ❤️

You must place your work under a cut at 350 words. 

There is a 10k word limit. Go crazy!

You ARE allowed to use fairytales not included on this list, please just let me know in my inbox! 

Tag and warn appropriately. It is exceedingly important that we tag and warn our works to best of our ability, so that readers know what they are getting into. (Obviously don’t tag to the point where you spoil your plot, but, you know. Use your best judgement.)

Please, no: DD/LG, RPF, Toilet-play, Bestiality (but monsterfucking is a-okay), and no minors in sexual situations.

This must be new and original work. You may not submit previously written work, or work written for other challenges. It’s fine if this is part of a pre-existing series, but this specific piece must be a stand-alone, able to be read and understood without reading any previous work.

Three entries per person. You can submit three separate entries, or a mini-series with three chapters, but each piece must be beneath the 10k word limit.

Please use the roster to select an MMC. It’s okay if you want to use a character who isn’t listed, but please just check in to make sure it’s a fandom I’m actually into 😅

We are all working underneath the same constraints. It is not plagiarism for another author to use the same fairytale, or similar tropes as you. I will not tolerate false accusations, and will block anyone who makes them. 

Have fun! This rule is non-negotiable. If this challenge is not sparking joy, it’s okay to sit it out, there will be more!

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐹𝒶𝒾𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓈

✨Rapunzel ✨Little Red Riding Hood ✨Beauty and the Beast ✨The Little Mermaid ✨Peter Pan ✨Sleeping Beauty ✨Cinderella ✨Rumplestiltskin ✨Goldilocks ✨Snow White

𝑅𝑜𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇:  (Or spin the wheel here)

Steve Rogers

Joel Miller

Ari Levinson

Eddie Munson

Bucky Barnes

Peter Parker

Eddie Brock

Namor

Thor Odinson

Loki Laufeyson

T’Challa

M’Baku

Kang

Dennis Baker

Ransom Drysdale

Lloyd Hansen

Andy Barber

Steve Kemp

Nick Fowler

Lee Bodecker

Arvin Russel

Clark Kent

Geralt of Rivia

Have fun everyone!

#challenge #writing prompts #prompts #prompt challenge #writing prompt #fanfiction #fanfiction challenge #fanfic #fic challenge #Once Upon A Time challenge #boxofbonesfic #bones challenge #fandom challenge #writing challenge

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Cornered

Pairing: Dark Peter Parker x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Peter can’t live without you and he’s not afraid to show it. 

WARNINGS: Fake Suicide Attempt; Manipulation.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

--

“Don’t! Please, Peter.” you cry out, watching as Peter pulls the knife closer to his wrist, the sharp edge pressing hard against his skin, dangerously close to his veins. 

You’re both crying after a huge discussion that started because you had decided that it was best to give your relation a small break. It’s getting draining to deal with Peter’s constant protectiveness with him always looking over your shoulder, trying to make your decisions for you. 

He’s overbearing and it’s sucking the life out of you. 

Nonetheless, Peter had always been a gentle boyfriend so you made the mistake of assuming that he’d be reasonable enough when you revealed what you had decided for your future. Apparently you were entirely wrong about him. 

“If you leave me, I’ll have no reason to live and then you can truly be free of me. Isn’t that what you want?” he practically chokes on his tears, a small gasp exiting his lips as he draws a cut into the skin. A few drops of blood paint this skin, dropping on the floor. 

“It’s not! Just… put down the knife, okay?” you beg, taking a step towards him. “We can talk this out, Peter.” 

“Why should I listen to you? You’re going to leave me, no matter what.” Peter gives you a sad smile, taking another step back as you try to get near him.

The knife digs again and he groans, the blood starting to roll down his wrist. 

“I-I won’t. I promise, Peter. I’ll stay with you, if that’s what you really want.” you panickly propose. His eyes light up at your offer, hope filling them as he loosens his grip on the knife.

“I want that. And we’ll be together and you’ll love me again? You promise?” he desperately asks, fingers clenching around the knife as he awaits for your answer.

You only hesitate for a brief moment, but you can’t allow Peter to do this. You have no other option but to take him back. 

“I promise. Now please get away from the -” you don’t even get to finish your sentence as Peter immediately drops the knife, which makes a loud noise as it falls down on the ground.

Before you can properly register what happened, Peter’s arms are around you. He lets out a shaky breath, pressing passionate kisses all over your scalp as you stand there, motionless in his arms.

You’re mortified by what just happened, but more so at the promise you’done to Peter. Now you’re never going to be able to leave him. 

Exactly what he wanted. 

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere peter parker #yandere avengers #yandere marvel #dark marvel #dark peter parker #dark peter parker x reader #yandere peter parker x reader #yandere!peter parker #yandere!peter parker x reader #dark!peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader #tw: manipulation #tw: suicide attempt #tw: dark content #yandere x reader

[fettuccin-e]

Prompt idea: spicy tasm!peter x afab!reader where peter puts his photography skills to use. Reader’s a lil shy but peter poses her and makes her comfortable. Not sure if the photos lead to sex or he gets inspired to do it during sex but could definitely go either way!

hello bestie yes!!! i needed to write a peter fic because i haven't in literally forever!!! i was really in the mood for fluff,, so this is kind of the fluffiest smut i've ever written bahahah i hope you enjoy!!

Tags: Peter Parker x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv, giggly sex, peter parker being a dork, taking copious amounts of nudes lol

Picture Perfect Moments

Peter hasn’t stopped kissing you since you both walked through the door of your apartment, grabbing desperately at your hips through your dress while you pull frantically at his tie.

It’s desperate and messy, as if it’s the last time you’ll ever have him, even though it never is. You try to work around each other’s lips, desperate to stay connected, hating the thought of having to break apart for even a moment. You have to crane your head up to meet Peter, your arms wrapped around his neck while walks you backwards. You’re too wrapped up in the feeling of his broad body against yours, his scent flooding your senses and the taste of his tongue against your own to even register that he’s managed to get you both into your shared bedroom. 

You squeak into Peter’s mouth as he pushes you to fall backward onto the bed, and Peter falls heavily on top of you, squishing you into the mattress. And you can’t help the giggle that flies out of your mouth, can’t help the elated smile that spreads across your face and against Peter’s mouth. Peter breaks from your lips to kiss down your cheeks and down your neck, seemingly unable to take his lips off your body for even a moment, and you’re suddenly wracked with giggles, your chest shaking and smile so wide you may burst. 

Peter breaks away from you with a soft grin not unlike your own. “What’s so funny?” he murmurs.

“I just,” you sigh. The elation is hard to put into words. The utter joy that fills your bones at the feeling of Peter Parker being yours. Only yours. And you’re his. You’re the one he tugs close to his chest as you walk along the sidewalk, it’s you he kisses at any opportunity. “I’m just so fucking happy, Peter,” you whisper, and hope that it’s enough. It always is, for Peter.

Peter’s smile is nearly blinding as he looks at you, pecking you once, twice on the lips before just hovering over you to stare. Your cheeks heat almost immediately, like they usually do when Peter looks at you like that. Peter couldn’t care less, though. Not when your cheeks are all flushed, your pretty eyes looking him like he’s hung the fucking sun. Not when your dress is so deliciously rumpled, the straps falling off your shoulders. An angel, just for him. 

“I like you when you’re happy, baby,” he whispers, and you giggle again. A strange look passes over his eyes, brief but noticeable, before he’s diving to meet your lips again. “Stay right where you are, okay?” he whispers against your mouth. You’re already nodding. You trust Peter. In any scenario, at any time or place, you trust him. He kisses you quickly again, soft and chaste, before he’s standing and bolting from your bedroom, leaving you panting and spread across the mattress.

You barely have any time to contemplate where the fuck he may be going before he’s back, standing in the doorway, staring at you with that same strange expression in his eyes.

He looks at you like you’re the answer to every question he’s ever had, like you’re the sun and the moon and the stars. Peter looks at you like you’re everything. You curl in on yourself under his gaze involuntarily, causing Peter to finally suck in a breath, as if he hasn’t even been breathing.

“This is… this is gonna sound weird, okay?” he mumbles, and you nod, trying to encourage him. “Can I,” he sucks in another breath, rubbing at his eyes with one of his hands, and you suddenly realize that he’s holding his camera in the other. “Do you think I could take some pictures of you? You just look so,” he kneels up onto the bed, leaning over you to kiss you softly on the cheek. “So fucking beautiful like this.”

Oh.

You giggle again, incredulous, and Peter smiles, before you wind a hand into his hair and tug his mouth onto yours. “Don’t you look at me enough as is, Peter?” you mumble between kisses.

“Never,” he says, and the utter vehemence in his voice makes you laugh harder. He leans back while you’re mid laugh, raising his camera to snap a few pictures. You’re practically glowing in the lamplight, Peter thinks. The curve of your smile plumps your cheeks, makes your eyes crinkle at the corners. He takes another picture, then another.

Then the temptation of the strap falling off your shoulder is far too much for him to bear. He lays his camera next to your head for only a second, leaning down again to trail kisses down the line of your neck and over your shoulder, using his free hands to drag the straps and the top of your dress down your body, leaving the fabric to pool around your waist and your bare tits exposed to him. He blinks up at you dumbly, and you run a hand through his hair.

“A bra wasn’t going to work with this dress,” you say, answering his unspoken question.

“Thank god for that.”

You barely have time to laugh at that statement before he’s on you again, kneading one of your tits in his hand while his mouth goes to a nipple, sucking it into his mouth. He licks at it greedily before moving to the next, leaving your chest achy and puffy. Peter could spend hours licking and biting at your pretty tits, littering the skin with bite marks and bruises, but with the way you’re mewling, your hips bucking under him, he knows that there are other parts of you that need attention.

You whine when Peter leans back to grab his camera again, raising over you to snap another few photos of you, with your nipples all puffy and hair mussed. 

“Push ‘em together for me baby?” he asks, softly, and you only hesitate a moment before you’re pushing your hands under your breasts, plumping them up for the camera. Peter curses under his breath, and you can hear the shutter of his camera whirring as he takes photo after photo. Your chest fills with a little bit of confidence at Peter’s unwavering gaze. Peter never fails to make you feel like the most beautiful, sexy thing in the damn world, even if you sometimes don’t believe it yourself.

You let go of your tits, moving your hands down to push at the dress surrounding your waist, hooking your thumbs into your panties as you go. Peter leans off of you to give you room as you raise your hips off the bed, slowly shoving the fabric off your body in a way you hope is sexy. And judging from Peter’s sharp intake of breath and the quick clicks of his camera, it definitely is.

Soon, you’re completely bare under Peter’s gaze and camera lens. It feels oddly vulnerable, even though Peter has absolutely seen you like this before, naked and completely desperate for him. Still, goosebumps erupt over your body, your legs coming up in a feeble attempt to be modest.

Peter pulls the camera away from his face. 

“Please don’t hide from me,” he murmurs, reaching a hand forward to brush it over your cheek and down to your chin, tilting your face up until you meet his eyes. “You have no idea how gorgeous you look right now.”

You’re pretty sure that your blush is going to burn you alive at this point.

The hand on your chin moves down, down, as Peter shifts further to the bottom of the bed, camera still clutched in his other hand. His long fingers trail between the valley of your breasts, over your heaving stomach, and right down to the apex of your thighs.

You jolt hard when his finger brushes over your clit, whining high in the back of your throat. Suddenly, the throbbing of your pussy is unbearable, aching and needy.

“Peter, please,” you whimper, but Peter just shushes you gently. Wordlessly, he lifts the camera up to his eyes again, and slowly spreads the lips of your cunt apart with those long, dexterous fingers. 

The shutter of the camera clicking seems to echo throughout the room.

Then Peter’s setting the camera down and diving forward. You want to fucking scream as he licks a long, wide stripe up your slit, groaning as he does. He licks his tongue maddeningly around your sticky clit before sucking it into his mouth.

“Oh fuck, Peter, Peter,” you whine, your thighs quivering beside his head, but Peter is lost to it. He sucks and licks at your clit while the hand that was once holding that damned camera traces up the inside of your thigh. He inches one of his long fingers into your cunt, and he reaches so fucking deep, just with his hand. So much deeper than you can. 

Your hips are twitching, undulating into Peter’s face as you tug at his hair. It has to hurt, just a little, but Peter doesn’t seem to mind. He seems perfectly content to just eat your pretty cunt for hours. He slides a second finger into you with barely any resistance from your needy cunt, scissoring them open. He crooks them upward periodically between stretching you, pressing into your g-spot, and you have to remind yourself how to fucking breathe.

You’re babbling, unthinking and desperate. “Fuck me, oh god, please Peter. Please fuck me, need you in me so bad, can’t breathe without you inside me, oh Jesus, Peter I-“

Peter breaks his mouth from your clit to climb slowly up your body, his fingers still buried deep inside you. “Okay, okay baby, I hear you.” The loss of his fingers makes you mewl, but you still keep your thighs spread apart for him while he strips for you.

Peter isn’t graceful, not in the slightest, and his desperation to get naked makes it even worse. He manages to strip off his shirt, shoves off his shoes without a whole lot of struggle, but you can’t help your snort of laughter when he nearly trips while getting his pants and boxers off. He has to catch himself on the bedside table when he nearly faceplants on the carpet, and smiles boyishly at your soft laughter. 

He’s still smiling and you’re still laughing at him when he climbs up onto the bed again, this time blissfully naked.

“Think my misery is funny, huh?” He murmurs through his grin, kissing under your jaw as he settles between your legs.

“As if you could possibly be miserable when you’ve got a fresh stash of my nudes, Parker.”

“Hm,” he chuckles, “y’know, you’ve got me there.”

And then he’s pushing in, and you can’t do anything but gasp wetly, digging your nails into his broad shoulders as he bullies you open around his thick cock. 

“Shit, always so tight,” he mutters, drawing his hips out and shoving himself back in.

Peter ruts into you like he can’t seem to pull himself away, barely drawing his cock out of you before plunging himself back in. He drapes his heavy body over yours, comforting and warm, while his cock breaks you apart.

“S’big, you’re so fucking big, Peter,” you slur, delirious and stupid.

“Taking it so well for me baby, you always- fuck, you always take me so well. ‘S like this pussy was made for me, yeah? Were you made for me, gorgeous?”

“Just for you, god, Peter I-“

“I know, baby, doin’ so good for me.”

The tip of Peter’s cock is grinding maddeningly into your sweet spot, over and over and over, and you don’t even know if Peter is trying to, just that he is. The knot in your stomach is just getting tighter, unbearable.

“Gonna, I’m gonna cum Peter, oh fuck,” you whine, and Peter clutches at your hands, pinning them over your head.

“C’mon, baby, c’mon,” Peter mumbles, rutting into you faster, faster.

You can’t tell if you scream when you cum, your ears are ringing too loud for you to tell. You can blearily see Peter above you, his eyes clenched shut, gasping as he comes inside of you, filling you up.

The room is hazy and dreamlike as you clutch onto each other, breathing against each other and waiting for the world to feel real again. Peter nuzzles his face into your hair, letting the scent of your shampoo consume him while you trace shapes into his back. After a few minutes, he lifts his head and blinks down at you, and you meet his gaze with a soft smile.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers.

“Hey handsome,” you whisper back.

He kneels up and off of you, soft cock slipping out of your used pussy. You nearly cringe at the feeling of his cum starting to leak out.

Peter shuffles away, and you watch him grab his camera again. You can barely feel your legs, let alone shut them, before Peter angles his camera lens between them.

He uses a hand, once again, to spread you apart for him, giving him a clear view of the mess he’s made of you.

The camera clicks several times, and you giggle again, your brain still scattered. You resign yourself to delirium. With Peter Parker, it's hard to be anything other than delirious.

#tasm peter smut #peter parker x y/n #tasm peter parker #tasm peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x you #spiderman x y/n #spiderman smut #spiderman x reader

[jahayla-parker]

Bewitched Love : Peter Parker x Reader

Part 1

Bewitched Love Series Navigation

Desc. & Warnings: 3.5k wc, see navigation for description and warnings

“Is… is that Mysterio?” Y/n questioned, her eyes wide as she stared at the jumbo-screen. J. Jonah Jameson from the Daily Bugle was holding a televised broadcasting of Mysterio. It seemed to be his last words, but it was hard to make out over the loudness of Madison Square Garden.

Peter was in his Spider-Man suit, his suit’s eyes equally as wide as y/n’s. He snapped his head towards y/n as he lifted his right hand out to the side in question. Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing, Mysterio was trying to claim that Peter Spider-Man was behind the loss of life in London. He quickly squeezed y/n’s hand before leaping onto the nearest lamppost to get a better view.

Y/n watched from the street as the video recording of Mysterio returned after J. Jonah Jameson’s ignorant remarks. She felt her stomach drop when Mysterio mumbled “Spider-Man's real... Spider-Man's real name is.…”. Y/n was granted a very brief moment of relief when the video glitched and cut out. However, before she could even let out a sigh, Mysterio’s picture returned as he shouted “Spider-Man's name is Peter Parker!”. Y/n froze after she snapped her attention towards Peter.

Peter was still perched on the lamppost next to the road. He clutched his head in panic, “what the fuck?!”. Peter glanced down at y/n only to see her staring back at him in just as much shock and confusion. He swallowed thickly as he heard J. Jonah Jameson summarize what Quentin Beck proclaimed.

Peter snapped his head and when he heard y/n’s faint gasp. Looking down he saw the crowd had begun to point at her. Peter jumped down as soon as he heard someone repeatedly ask if she was Spider-Man's girlfriend.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Please don't touch her” Peter begged, holding his hands up as he stood between the angry citizens and y/n. Peter slowly spun in his defensive position as a citizen neared them asking, “you’re just a kid?”. Peter heard y/n groan in annoyance behind him as more people stepped closer.

Y/n glared at the stranger who came up to Peter and asked “you murdered Mysterio?”. She shook her head and began to defend her boyfriend, “he didn’t-“.

But then the stranger turned to her and gasped, “you helped him murder Mysterio?”.

Y/n’s jaw dropped slightly, her eyes wide, as she shook her head adamantly. She and Peter both tried to assure the surging crowd that neither of them did what the video of Mysterio was proclaiming. Y/n had moved to stand beside Peter, rather than behind; much to his frustration.

Peter tensed as yet another person approached them, this time reaching their hand out to try and touch them. He reflectively swatted the woman’s hand away before she could touch either of them. Peter’s actions resulted in the woman screaming, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! He hit me! Spider-Man hit me!”

Peter glanced over at y/n as she argued, “That’s not what happened! You tried to-“. Normally he’d make sure whoever they were talking to let her finish her sentence, but Peter noticed everyone had started pulling out their phones and recording. As much as he wanted to not step on y/n’s toes as she tried to defend him, he couldn’t risk more bad publicity. Peter tried to calm the crowd, but failed once again.

As the angry citizens moved closer, Peter brought y/n to his side. He hooked his arm around her waist, holding her tightly against him. Peter nodded once at y/n to warn her of his next actions before he shot a web and lifted them from the surging crowd. He apologized as he felt y/n hold on tight. Peter knew she preferred to use her own abilities to fly rather than him pulling her around. But, he didn’t feel he was left with much choice. Especially because Peter didn’t want her to have to risk getting her identity disclosed to the world too.

Like Peter -before this broadcast that is-, only a handful of people knew of Y/n‘s secret identity. May, Happy, Ned, and MJ were the only ones outside of her family and Peter that knew what y/n could do/what she was. May was inevitable given her relationship with Peter and Happy’s situationship with May. Plus, May was great at patching up any scrapes or cuts after a night on patrol with Peter. Happy and Ned had been made aware during the events in London; with Ned’s questions answered upon their return to New York. MJ was looped in when she and y/n worked on eliminating the tension between them.

Y/n and MJ both had a crush on Peter going into their London trip, and for a short time Peter had a crush on both of the girls. In the end, Peter knew he only truly held romantic feelings for y/n and not MJ. MJ sensed this and was supportive. But there had still been some understandable tension between y/n and MJ. It wasn’t much, but it made them both uncomfortable so it had to be addressed.

Y/n assured MJ that she didn’t do anything to try and ‘win’ Peter over in London. MJ assured y/n that her crush on Peter had been minimal. In fact, once Brad showed interest in MJ, her crush on Peter dissolved. Both girls were pleased with the outcomes of the whole affair and ready to move on as if nothing happened.

But y/n felt awkward keeping a secret from MJ. She always had. But now that y/n had told others, including their mutual friend Ned, she felt she owed MJ the truth. She was nervous as to how MJ would react, but Peter assured her it would be fine. It turns out, Peter was correct, y/n had nothing to worry about; MJ was actually thrilled and very intrigued by y/n’s abilities.

That being said, Peter knew that didn’t mean y/n wanted everyone to know. Heck, Peter didn’t want everyone to know about his secret life either. But, he wasn’t given any say in this public disclosure. Peter was going to be sure that y/n wasn’t placed in the same position as him; even if it meant causing a brief surge of panic when he suddenly pulled them through the air to escape the crowds.

Peter’s guilt soaked eyes scanned y/n’s body to see if she was still nervous. He’d made it back to his bedroom, sneaking them in through the window. Peter could tell y/n was very relieved to have been standing on her own two feet again, but otherwise she seemed fine. He let out a short sigh, pressing the center button on his suit.

Y/n placed her hands on the upper part of Peter’s exposed chest, staring deeply into his eyes. “It’s okay, Peter, breathe” she whispered soothingly as she pleaded with her eyes. When Peter continued to mumble that he didn’t know what to do now, y/n stepped closer and lifted one hand to his cheek.

Y/n stood extremely close to Peter, enough to feel his breath ticking the tiny hairs on her face. She closed her eyes, one hand resting on his chest, the other cupping his cheek. Y/n took a deep breath and whispered “stabilis corde; stabilis mentis”; steady in heart, steady in mind.

Just as Peter felt his out of control pulse calming and his racing thoughts coming to a halt, the door burst open. Y/n and Peter both startled as Happy hid his eyes and May apologizes. Peter quickly shot a web over to y/n’s waist to keep her upright when she stumbled backwards, tripping over his suit in her attempt to distance from Peter. “This isn't what it looks like, Happy!” He groaned, his face flushed.

“It’s not -“ y/n mumbled quietly. She glanced at the door as Peter’s aunt, May apologized again and went to close it. “I’m sorry” y/n sighed, her gaze shifting nervously around the room.

Peter swore he was going to spray May with the kitchen faucet hose when she advised, “just practice safe...”. “It's not what it looks like” Peter shouted, unable to look at y/n out of the embarrassment his aunt’s response caused him. He let out a sigh of relief when May cut herself off as she opened the door again and noticed y/n.

“Oh! It’s y/n” May grinned, walking over to hug the girl.

“Who else would it be?” Peter questioned as he watched y/n giggle shyly as she returned May’s hug.

“I hadn’t even considered that, I was more focused on trying not to see anything!” May explained, laughing at Peter’s deepening blush.

“It’s not-“ y/n began, biting her lip.

May shook her head, “I’ll get out of your guys’ hair, just be safe”. She turned towards her nephew and curled her the corner of her lips up, “there’s a box of con-“. Before May could finish her sentence Peter cut her off.

“Okay! Got it” Peter blushed. “Not what’s happening, but got it” he sighed, rubbing his face with his hand.

“Oh no , you don’t have to stop on account of us” May said, pushing Happy back from the doorframe.

“Maaaayyy” Peter groaned, “Please stop”. He sighed as May just held her hands to in surrender as she went to close the door again. Only this time, Peter noticed the tears on Happy’s face. Peter felt guilty that Happy’s tears gave him an easy change of topic. Nonetheless, he gasped dramatically, “wait have you been crying?”

Happy pouted, making May resist an eye roll as he confessed, “we broke up”.

“Oh” Peter sighed, glancing between his aunt and Happy. “I-“ he began, only to be interrupted by the sounds of a helicopter as someone shouted “hey Spider-Man”. “Oh, uh-“ Peter mumbled, his racing thoughts and heart picking back up at full speed.

Y/n quickly located a random shirt on Peter’s bed. She picked out up and momentarily held onto it as she watched him web the blinds shut. Once the window was covered, she tossed the shirt to Peter.

“Thank you” Peter smiled softly at y/n. “I didn't know you guys broke up” he sighed sympathetically as he looked at Happy while pulling the shirt over his head. “I thought you were in love, May” Peter fibbed, pushing May out of his room.

May, Happy, and Peter softly bickered as they all made their way to the living room; y/n following behind them. Y/n noticed Peter herding them away from the door just as someone buzzed their apartment. She flicked her eyes over to the door to ensure it was locked. Y/n panicked upon seeing someone standing at the still open front door.

Y/n quickly rushed over and slammed the front door shut. She winced as she realized her frantic response probably didn’t help things. “Sorry! Not now!” Y/n justified, locking the door. As y/n made her way to the others, May smiled at her, “as always, make yourself at home”.

“Now Peter, about sex” May began softly, making Peter groan.

“This has nothing to do with sex!” Peter shouted, his embarrassed eyes shifting over to check on y/n. His eyes changed back to fearful as he watched y/n swiftly closing the blinds as more people surrounded their apartment. Within seconds Peter found himself dashing around the small space in a frazzled attempt to hide any signs of what transpired moments before he and y/n arrived at his home. As he stole Happy and Mays phones, he lightly scolded “can you get off your phones for five minutes?! I just wanna talk to you about your relationship, okay?”

Y/n sighed as she noticed what was on the television behind Peter. She’d been watching as he tried so hard to cover up what Mysterio did, even if just for a few seconds of peace. But, y/n knew the TV gave him away. “Peter..” y/n whispered, pointing to the TV. She figured he’d want it off, but she didn’t want to overstep.

When Peter’s eyes widened as he looked at the news being played, y/n searched for a remote to turn it off. Upon not seeing one quick enough, she took it upon herself. Y/n turned and flicked her fingers, the blue strands of cosmic energy moving speedily towards the television set, “removere potestatem”. Unfortunately, y/n wasn’t fast enough in her decision to use her powers as May and Happy had seen more than enough.

“Peter, what’s going on?” May asked hesitantly, glancing between the kids in front of her.

Y/n looked at Peter to see how to handle the situation. She slyly grabbed his hand and held on to it for support as he struggled to find the words to explain. Y/n’s eyes and hand never left Peter the entire time it took for him to catch May and Happy up to speed.

Y/n stared at Peter silently as MJ and Ned got rid of their letters.

Their group had applied to countless colleges, including last resort back-up options. Over the last few weeks as colleges mailed out their decisions, the four of them received nothing but rejections; even from said last resorts. All the rejection letters cited the same reason, “recent controversy”.

Even though Peter had won his legal battle against Mysterio’s claims, their lives hadn’t returned to normal. Instead, despite being four of the brightest students at their high school, they remained unable to find a college that would admit them. They’d all dreamed of going to MIT for years, and now they couldn’t even get into a small newly formed local community college.

Y/n knew Peter blamed himself. Even though she would never regret anything that happened during their trip to London, she knew he wished to change the ending with Beck. Y/n and Peter had talked about that event in great length since it happened. Y/n was able to take him through it so that his regret and guilt for what happened to Mysterio wasn’t eating at him constantly.

These rejection letters however ,only sent Peter back down his spiral of remorse and depression. While none of their friends blamed him for their inability to get into college, Peter felt responsible. If he’d handled things better with Mysterio, hadn’t let him trick and manipulate him for so long, maybe his friends could get into MIT. Maybe y/n, the girl he loved and wanted to give the world to, could’ve gotten into her dream school. Hell, there was no maybe about it. Peter knew that if it hadn’t been for his mistakes, she’d be packing for MIT. Instead, she was sitting with him and their friends as they stared at their rejection letters.

Y/N slid off her chair and silently made her way to Peter. She watched as he kept his eyes downcast, tears staring to stream down his cheeks. Y/n frowned and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him from behind. Peter melted into her embrace, making a small smile from on her lips.

Y/N’s attempts at comforting her boyfriend were cut short as Flash walks in to the coffee shop. He was dressed head to toe in MIT merch and barely notices the look of disappointment on their faces. But when he did, he stopped and asked, “you guys didn't get in?”. Flash instantly regretted his question when Ned sassed that they’d been rejected since they were actually Peter’s friends unlike the way Flash had been falsely portraying he was.

As Flash left, the group sighed collectively. MJ promptly excused herself as she returned to work. Ned picked up on her cue and explained he needed to show his parents the rejection letter. When they’d parted ways, y/n grabbed Peter’s chair and turned it so he was looking at her.

“I’m so sorry” Peter said, his eyes slowing peaking up at y/n. He sniffled quietly as y/n shushed him and pulled him to her. Peter shook his head, this was his fault and y/n was caught in the middle; yet, she was comforting him?

Before Peter could voice his frustration, y/n stepped back and held his face in her palms. “Stop apologizing” she whispered. “The only one blaming you is yourself, Peter” y/n assured him. She lowered her head and pulled his closer to her, pressing her lips against his forehead. “Please try to see it from our perspective” y/n requested, playing softly with his hair.

“I messed up” Peter muttered shyly, clutching tightly onto y/n’s coat. He knew she was going to argue so he kept going. “I.. I pulled you into this chaos and it’s not the life you wanted” Peter explained. “You haven’t even had the chance to consider what you want with your situation and I came in like a… a… uhh… bulldozer and ruined everything” he whispered.

Y/n furrowed her brows as she glanced down at Peter. She shook her head and took a deep breath. “Peter,” y/n whispered, sighing when he kept his eyes on the ground instead of looking at her. “Babe, please look at me” she begged, tenderly squeezing his jaw.

When Peter finally made eye contact with her, y/n smiled softly. “On that plane, with Happy, I decided” she argued. Y/n shook her head as Peter opened his mouth to protest. “You’re right, I hadn’t decided before. But Peter, I was afraid. I didn’t think I could do this alone,” y/n admitted, “I didn’t want to do this alone. I still don’t. But I’m not alone. And neither are you”.

Y/n moved to sit on the stool beside Peter, taking his shaking hands in her warm ones. “Things like this are going to happen, but what matters is that we are there for each other as we work through them” she professed. She grinned as Peter nodded slowly. “Now, my Spider-Lord,” y/n teased, “I must go meet my parents for another training, but, you can call if you need me okay?”

Peter groaned, “uuughh”. “Don’t” he laughed, shaking his head at the horrible nickname that had come as a result of one of the news articles written about him lately. Peter nodded promisingly, standing up and pulling y/n in for a tight hug. “Be careful,” he whispered, placing a shy short kiss to her lips, “but be magical”.

“Peter!” Y/n groaned, rolling her eyes at his returned teasing. She smiled and squeezed his hand once more before turning to leave. Y/n glanced back at Peter as she reached the sidewalk before she truly made her way home; but not before blowing him a kiss when she saw he was watching her still.

Peter sighed to himself as he watched y/n walk down the street, his eyes on her until she left his sight. He appreciated that she didn’t blame him for their inability to get into MIT. But, Peter still blamed himself; after all, the ‘controversy’ The university cited was about him. He had to do something, but what?

As Peter stood from his seat and zipped his jacket, he glanced up to say goodbye to MJ. However, his eyes landed on the Halloween decorations that were still hanging up long past the holiday. In particular, Peter found himself staring at what was supposed to be a string of lighted vampires. He couldn’t place what they looked like to him, but he didn’t see vampires though.

Peter’s lips curled slightly just before he dashed out of the cafe. He’d realized why he was so intrigued by the string of lights; they didn’t look like vampires to him, they looked like Doctor Strange. The one person Peter believed might be able to help him, Y/n, and his friends with their predicament. He wasn’t sure Doctor Strange would agree to help, but he had to at least ask.

Peter shuffled his feet nervously as he waited for Doctor Strange Stephen to answer Peter’s request. He knew it was likely a long shot, but Peter was desperate. Peter’s lips curled downwards as Stephen sighed sympathetically.

“Peter... we tampered with the stability of space-time to resurrect countless lives. You wanna do it again now just because yours got messy?” Stephen Strange asked. He felt for Peter, he really did. But, what Peter was asking was a bit extreme.

Peter shook his head quickly, “this isn't... it's not about me”. He took a deep breath to calm himself before continuing. “I mean, this is really hurting a lot of people” Peter explained. “My... my Aunt May, Happy...” he rambled guiltily.

Peter saw the understanding in Stephen’s eyes and kept going. “My best friends,” he added, biting his lip as his frown depended at the thought of the name of the next person he hurt, “my girlfriend, y/n…” Peter shook his head, “their futures are ruined just because they know me, and... they've done nothing wrong”. After he finished his monologue, Peter stared up at Stephen in anticipation. This was his shot, and he could see he was starting to make some headway with the sorcerer.

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[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Idea #87: Percy Jackson, but make it MCU

Look, I didn't want to come up with yet another crazy PJO crossover, but here I am. Because instead of just coming up with the lightest, fluffiest, gayest PJO romance possible - which is what I wanted - I had to turn it into an MCU identity reveal fic too.

Or: What if post-ToA Percy Jackson was Peter Parker's caseworker following Aunt May's untimely death?

Just imagine it:

Tony Stark first meets Percy Jackson in the ICU of Metropolitan General the day after Peter and his aunt are caught in a terrible subway accident. May dies on scene. Even with his advanced healing, Peter is badly injured and taken to the nearest hospital - where it quickly becomes apparent he's Enhanced. It takes about 24 hours for the news to make its way to Tony, who immediately storms the hospital with the intention of taking Peter back to his Tower to heal-

-only to be told Peter's not going anywhere by the social worker assigned to the case.

This is remarkable for many reasons, not the least because the social worker is an unassuming, overworked 27-year-old wearing Finding Nemo socks and a faded Save the Oceans t-shirt. That the case worker - Percy Jackson - stands his ground in the face of Iron Man's wrath is even more remarkable, but Tony is forced to admit the kid has a point: he can't just let someone without any obvious connection to a minor walk off with said minor, particularly when that minor is Enhanced.

It takes Tony a couple days to get his ducks in a row, proving that he is not only able and willing to take in Peter, but is the one his aunt wanted to take care of him in the event something happened to her. During that time he has JARVIS research everything he can on Percy (lives in a Central Park penthouse owned by his long-time boyfriend, a successful music producer; volunteers for a NPO started by his best friend dedicated to restoring the wild; brief stint as the youngest ever on the FBI's most wanted, etc), but finds nothing to suggest he's anything other than a social worker trying to do what's best for his charges.

Percy becomes a semi-regular fixture at the Tower. At first it's just business, checking in on how Peter is doing and facilitating the foster care/adoption paperwork. Later it becomes something akin to friendship, with Percy being utterly unimpressed by Tony's fame but remarkably charmed by his inventions and philanthropic efforts. (He also comes to have strong feelings about the Rogues and their actions during the Civil War once he learns of them, helping Tony to see their betrayal for what it is. This alone makes him one of Rhodey and Pepper's favorite people.)

This goes on for quite some time - though I see this as happening post-CACW, we don't jump straight into the Infinity War, with there being several years wherein the Accords are ratified, the Rogues found and tried for their actions in the Civil War, and for the most part allowed to return to the Avengers on a probationary basis - until Thor finally arrives with news of Thanos' impending arrival.

Only Percy happens to be visiting when Thor arrives and the Avengers naturally have questions after Thor addresses him as Prince Perseus.

The truth of Percy's identity comes out in fits and starts (demigod son of Poseidon, saved the world a couple times, ascended to become God of Heroes, Natural Disasters, and Poison as well as Patron God of New York City; has been dating Apollo since he was fourteen; yes, is actually a social worker, albeit one who takes cases across the country to protect demigods and Enhanced), which is not helped by Thor (who can't help but comment on what he knows of Percy's heroics) or Apollo (who shows up after Percy texts an SOS but can't help but talk up his boyfriend either.)

The Infinity War still happens, albeit rather differently than in canon - perhaps Thanos turns out to be a disgruntled child or sibling of Gaia out for revenge, justifying Greek/Roman interference? But the details don't really matter as much as the identity reveal.

And... that's really all I have with regards to plot. But there should be a lot of character moments leading up to the reveal that hint at who Percy really is but which don't form a coherent narrative until the truth is revealed.

Bonuses include:

The softest, fluffiest romance possible for Apollo and Percy, with the pair more or less falling head over heels at first sight at the start of TTC, having their first kiss at the party at the end of the book, and dating throughout the rest of the Titan War. Apollo goes absolutely batshit insane when Percy goes missing at the start of HOO and breaks out of Olympus to crash the Senate meeting at the end of SoN and check on his boyfriend, and eventually gets made mortal for helping too much during the Giant War. The broad strokes of ToA occur with Percy fighting at his now-mortal boyfriend's side, and Percy ascends to godhood when Apollo regains his. There's some tension (Zeus is not happy about his firstborn son's choice of lover, fearing overthrow; Poseidon fears Apollo will end up breaking Percy's heart, but softens after Percy ascends and his chance of becoming a flower diminishes; many CHB campers think Percy's mad for dating a god, etc) but for the most part it should be as fluffy as circumstances allow.

Percy having been really obvious about his background, but in ways that seem reasonable ("How did you meet your boyfriend?" "I was at a really bad party when a friend ended up calling her brother to pick us up early. I fell in love with his car and then with him.") or like jokes ("Those sea turtles really seem to like you." "I like them too." "I guess they're kind of cute." "Excellent conversationalists too.") until the full truth comes out; and

Thor attempting to make up for blowing Percy's cover in dramatic (and hilarious) ways. This should include the gift of at least one native Asgardian water plant ("Dude, have you never heard of invasive species?") and end in a bakery's worth of Asgardian baked goods.

And that's all I have, though given the way this has been living rent-free in my head all week there may be more. As always feel free to adopt this bun, just link back if you do anything with it.

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[starfa11]

There's a First Time for Everything

Word Count: 1065 Warnings: brief mentions of Peter being hurt, mostly fluff, canon violence, self-indulgent shenanigans The first time you met Peter Parker wasn’t even as Peter Parker. It was when a certain web-slinging vigilante crashed through the cafe window you worked at, frightening the customers, and effectively scaring them off. It didn’t make a great first impression that he’d successfully, accidentally ruined your work day. It also wasn’t a great impression that he’d started to bleed over your new carpet. That’s when it hit you, spiderman had just crashed through your window, and was bleeding on your carpet. That sent a jolt of white-hot electricity that was entirely fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins as you went to grab him and drag him behind the counter, murmuring “Sorries” as he muttered under his breath at the pain. After a quick, shoddy nursing job, he returned to fight and your first meet was concluded. 

The second time Peter had met you, he’d forgotten all about the first time, seeing a coffee shop that felt like home, and the pretty worker was no deterrent. He’d ordered a latte, nothing fancy, and you were so charming that he decided to forgo what he ended up deeming a usual boring coffee for latte art that had a heart on it. He really had been there to work, but when he’d gone up for a pastry the second time around, there was something about the groundedness and the weight on your shoulders that he recognized. Peter found that he enjoyed seeing the sweet light in your eyes much more than you with shaky hands and a creased forehead. He remembered the way you’d told him to have a nice day when he’d left, and he remembered your eyes, he figured he should talk to you at least once, whether that was as the him that you would find normal, or the vigilante that may or may not stroll through the door at some point soon. The third time you’d met Peter, was the second time you’d met Spider-man and he was all swagger and sweet talk as he called you sweetheart and stuck around as you closed up, and let all be damned as he laughed at the awkward new customers, the weird orders and the funny little stories that your work day lent to you. And when he left he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, called you sweetheart again, and left you feeling as scarlet as the red on his suit.  And that was that that was when Peter figured he may have harbored the smallest little crush on you. When his weeks were spent looking forward to the Fridays that he didn’t have classes so he could order a latte with a heart on it and a pastry in two separate rounds of going up to the counter, because you liked to compliment his style, or question what song he was listening to, and he liked to listen to the humming as you went about your work day. Though the humming was by no means star-striking, Peter found something so endearing about your comfortability in your space, and on patrol later that evening he remembered barely asking you to dance with him to some silly offbeat song on the radio. He barely remembered you saying yes, and he remembers how elated he was that you’d done so. What he had a clear memory of, however, was the way your eyes seemed all so amused, how they shone in the dim lights of the kitchen as everything went about outside of your cafe’s windows, the hustle and bustle of the city juxtaposing the calm quietness of the dancing and the way you always seemed to hum to whatever was on the radio. He remembered all of it, and he remembered the look on your face when he’d left like you knew something he didn’t, and for a second, he thought you might’ve.

The first time you had gone on a date with Peter Parker, he did everything right. After he asked for your phone number when he went to get his coffee and pastry, he waited until you’d been texting a short while, and then asked if you’d like to do something, like go to dinner, or see a movie. He’d been so endearingly awkward that it was difficult to say no, although you’d never wanted to. And when the day came, he brought you flowers, and seemed so scared to walk into your small apartment, but seemed so enamored by your little space and how much it felt like you that it was the most sickeningly sweet thing you’d seen in a while. You went to walk around and look at records in a sweet little record store that smelled like mothballs, lint, and faintly of cinnamon, with several lights that flickered in a yellow shade that made the entire space feel a little bit softer. After he took you to a diner, and you two had milkshakes and fries, the honey-eyed boy was adamant that you were to try fries dipped in milkshake, and was increasingly adamant that it was the best thing to be created since sliced bread. So you let him walk you home and paint the surrounding areas as yellow as he made you feel, and you let him kiss your hand and ask for another date. You let him take you out on a second date, then a fourth, then before you realized it, you’d gone on ten dates of laughter, silly inside jokes, and painting the world around you yellow with the boy you’d met for the first time, twice.

And the first time that Peter bared his soul to you, was telling you that you’d fallen for him twice. It tore you apart inside to know that this wonderful, loving boy who had danced with you in the snow as himself and behind your cafe counter as a swaggering vigilante who liked to paint your cheeks red with flustered laughter, was out risking himself. But you let him take you on another date, and you let him come to your home window so that you could patch him up. And you couldn’t believe, that Peter Benjamin Parker, for as reckless as he was, was still flirting with you while sitting on the kitchen counter, was still gazing up at you with those honey brown eyes like you were his yellows and reds.

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