#inexperienced!peter parker

[blooming-violets]

“You’re doing so well.”

"You're doing so well." || Inexperienced Smut Prompts

[tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader]

Warnings: It's a smut prompt so you will be reading about two people fucking. Obviously.

“I can’t study Physics like this,” you whined. “We can’t do this here.”

Peter had taken it upon himself this semester to personally tutor you for your finals. He had developed an interest in you when you quietly shuffled into the seat beside him on your first day. He knew Physics was your least favorite subject and, if you failed, you’d have to retake the class again next year without him. Every week he would inch himself closer and closer to you during your sessions until, late one night, tucked away in his dorm room, you experienced both your first kiss and lost your virginity within the span of an hour. Peter knew how to manipulate your body in ways that made it impossible to ever want to stop. He could turn you from a studious, quietly reserved woman to a moaning, desperate whore in a matter of seconds. 

Tonight, he had you sat on his lap. Literally. He picked you up and placed you down wherever he saw fit. Your underwear had been torn down your legs and stuffed into his pocket the second you met him in the student lounge. There were no “hellos” or friendly greetings. You hadn’t even had time to remove your bag from your shoulder before you were being exposed to him. He knew what he wanted, when he wanted, and he didn’t care where it was. The student lounge was empty this Sunday evening, thankfully, but it still terrified you to be doing this in such a public area. You tried to encourage him to take you back to his dorm room but that was when he had pulled you onto his lap, ending the debate before it even started.  

Your legs straddled on either side of his thighs, your pleated skirt curtained over the two of you to hide what was happening underneath, though any college student who glanced this way would know exactly what was going on. Peter’s cock was buried inside of you as you faced him on the couch. Large, hard, and completely stretching you as far as your recently deflowered pussy could handle. His cock was the first thing you ever dared put inside of you and it wasn’t a small task. You had cried the first time he split you open despite how gentle he tried to be. Now, it felt almost at home buried between your folds, even if you were in a public area. Your brain was saying no but your body was screaming yes.

There were no thoughts inside of your head anymore. Only Peter and his cock. His hands brushed over your baby pink blouse, running along your spine, as he cooed in your ear, “Shh, baby, it’s alright. No one is going to see you. No one will see how much of a needy, little whore you are. Your secret is safe with me. I’ll know if anyone is headed this way. You just focus on the questions.” 

You shivered when you felt his cock twitch inside of you. Neither of you moved a muscle. Your eyes closed as your breath hitched in your throat, another whine whimpering from your lips, “Peter.”

“Come on,” he urged. “Answer the question I asked. You should have been listening.” 

His hands slipped to the front of your blouse, his fingers working to slowly undo every button. You held your breath, biting down on your bottom lip. You had no idea what he had said prior to sitting on his lap. He had been reading something out of the textbook leaning on the cushion beside him. He knew you weren’t listening. He enjoyed the turmoil he caused and liked watching your brain short circuit in his presence. 

Peter reached behind your open shirt to unhook your bra, giving him easy access to your chest, “If you don’t answer me, I’m going to remove your shirt and leave you completely topless…out in the open…where anyone could walk by at any moment…I wonder how embarrassing it would be if someone saw you like that? Imagine what they would think of you then?” 

You gave a sharp inhale, eyes widening in horror, “Please, don’t.” 

“Would it really be a shame if someone else saw these beautiful tits?” He raised the cups of your bra so he could admire your chest. “I can’t be the first person to have laid eyes on them. Surely someone else must have gotten there before me.” 

He knew damn well that no one had ever seen you naked before him. The wicked glint in his eye told you everything you needed to know. His teasing was nothing more than empty threats. Peter would rather die than share you with anyone.

You gave a bratty grumble and rested your forehead against his, “You’re a terrible, mean tutor.” 

A devilish smilish toyed on his lips, “Do you need me to repeat the question?” 

“Mhm,” you whined. 

His hand slipped under your loose bra to cup your breasts. He carefully pinched your nipple between his finger and thumb, brushing over it with small, fast flicks. 

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you inadvertently bucked your hips. The sudden movement on his cock caused a satisfied groan to rumble in the back of Peter’s throat. 

“Focus, baby.” He growled in your ear. “Don’t lose yourself. Not yet. Sit still.” 

The urge to wiggle your hips was too much. Your clit was aching, begging to be touched, desperate for any sort of friction. Your toes curled in your shoes as you repressed a whimper. 

“The question, Peter. Ask me the question again. I’ll be good.”

He nipped at the side of your jaw and mumbled the question against your skin, remembering the exact phrasing without even having to glance back at the book, “A charged particle traveling along the +x axis enters an electric field directed vertically upward along the +y-axis. If the charged particle experiences a force downward because of this field, what is the sign of the charge on this particle?” 

He was speaking a language foreign to you. All you could think about was how wonderful he felt inside of you and how all you wanted to do was move your hips.

When you took too long to answer, he responded by giving a hard tug on your nipple, causing you to flinch in pain. 

“Is the charge positive, negative, or neutral?” He began kneading your breast to help soothe out any pain he gave you. “Come on, pretty girl. You know this. Use that brain of yours for something other than cocksucking. If you get it right, I’ll give you a nice reward.” 

“I-” You tried to steady your breath. The fact that you had his dick inside of you in the middle of a public space didn’t even bother you anymore. All you wanted was for him to satisfy you. You didn’t care who saw. “Negative! It’s negative.”

A proud smile broke out across his face, lighting up his eyes, “Good girl! Now tell me why it’s negative and I’ll give you what I know you want.” 

“Nnghh,” words were becoming difficult to form. You couldn’t stop yourself from moving, just a little bit, to give your body what it needed. 

“Use your words, pretty girl, come on,” he chided you. 

“It’s…oh, god…it’s negative because positive charges in an-an electric field will have an electric force in the same direction as the field. And…negative…will be in the opposite direction…so…it-it’s negative because the charged particle experiences a force opposite to the electric field.” 

“That’s my smart girl. Let me show you how proud I am of you, baby.” He placed a quick peck to your lips before thrusting his hips upwards as you stifled a shocked yelp. 

You didn’t even know he could reach that deep. You felt like you could feel him bulging out your stomach. His hands left your chest to fall down around your hips, gripping them tightly, helping to move you with each small thrust. It wasn’t enough. He was dragging it out, still teasing you, wanting to make you work for it. If you wanted to give your body what it needed, you would need to take control. 

You braced your hands on his shoulders for better leverage and began to ride him. Your pace grew from soft, little thrusts to long, hard strokes, finding a steady rhythm. Tears blurred your vision at the overwhelming sensations of how exceptional he felt. The wait was almost too much but now there was no stopping you. 

Peter’s head had fallen back against the couch cushions, his eyes closed, “Fuck, that’s good.” 

You responded with a quiet whimper, nuzzling your face into his cheek to try to get his attention back on your face, “I want to be good for you.” 

He opened his eyes to give you a soft smile, murmuring against your puckered lips, “You’re always so good for me, babygirl.” His slights gazed down to watch as you rose and fell over him, impaling his cock into you. He liked to watch it disappear, liked to watch as you took it all, every last millimeter like the good girl you were. “That’s it. Take it all. You’re so tight, babe. So tight for me.” 

You couldn’t do anything except chase the divine sensations rolling through your body. The pleasure rippled through you, the knot tightening in your stomach. With every thrust, you were closer to the finish line. It didn’t take much for you to get there. Everything still felt so new, so fresh, that every sensation sent you spiraling. Peter’s hands tangled in your hair, gripping onto the back of your head, as he pulled you close against his chest. Quiet sobs racked through your body. You felt silly for crying over how good his cock felt but you couldn’t stop. He reduced you to a shaking, shivering, sobbing mess in a matter of seconds. 

“Shh,” his soothing voice whispered in your ear. “It’s okay, pretty girl. You’re doing so good for me. You’re doing so well. That’s it. Just take a little bit more. We’re almost there. I’ve got you.” 

Peter took over, moving his hips, filling you to your core. He switched his pace from yours. Instead of your frenzied, jerking thrusts, he penetrated you with a slow, deliberate intensity. He cupped your cheeks, drawing your attention to him. 

“Kiss me,” he whispered in a husky, low tone. 

Your nose brushed against his soft skin as your lips crashed onto him. Your tongue pried open his mouth and slipped past his lips to tangle with his. You grabbed fistfulls of his shaggy hair, moaning into his mouth, panting, getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen. It didn’t matter if you passed out. It didn’t matter if anyone saw you. It didn’t matter if you failed your class. All that mattered was Peter Parker and the way he lit a fire between your thighs. 

You could feel your climax growing, Peter’s too. His rhythm sped up. The quiet, needy whines in the back of his throat got lost under your own whimpers. The swell of his cock twitched inside of you. He gripped onto you so tightly like he was terrified of you disappearing from his grasp at such a pivotal moment. 

“Be a good girl and come for me,” he gasped out between heavy breaths. “Let me feel you.” 

You rested your forehead against his sweaty one, gazing through half closed lids at him, taking in every look of needy desperation that flashed across his features. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him. His words were all you needed to let yourself go. 

Your climax washed through you like a tsunami, overwhelming your senses, and sweeping you away in a whirling maelstrom of pleasure. A scream got caught in the back of your throat, burying your face against his shoulder in an attempt to keep it from escaping. Somewhere, in the back of your blissed out brain, you remembered that you were still inside the student lounge. 

The sensations of your sex spasming and squeezing around his cock was exactly what Peter needed to finish. He wrapped his arms tight around your waist and forced your body down as he thrust up his hips, making sure he was entirely buried inside of you, as he erupted. Spurt after spurt of hot cum emptied into your waiting cunt. 

“Ah,” you whimper, hiding your face into his neck, the tears spilling freely down your cheeks now. “Oh, Peter. Yes, yes, yes. You feel so good.” 

Your arms felt numb and tingly, your head spun and your vision blurred. You had to actively remember to breathe or else you’d fail to do so. You tried to squeeze out everything he had to give you, feeling him throbbing inside of you, twitching as a shiver shot through your body. You adored how he felt without a condom. It felt raw and real like this was how it was supposed to happen. The night you gave him your virginity, he had used one, but once you started taking birth control, you had asked him to stop. You wanted to feel every part of him, wanted him to live inside of you. He was the kind of person who shouldn’t ever be covered up. 

You stayed wrapped around him, safe in his arms, as you came down from you high. Peter traced lazy lines up and down your spine while you focused on your breathing. You felt like your body was glowing, brighter than the sun, and ready to float away. It would give a shudder every so often as his cock softened inside of you until you finally lifted yourself from his lap. If you weren’t the first one to move, you two would never untangle yourselves. Peter never moved away until you did. He always followed your lead. You often wondered if he would hold you forever if you never pulled away. One day, maybe you would test that theory. 

You could feel parts of him dripping down your inner thigh as you rose onto shaky legs. You hurried to fix your bra and button your shirt back up. Peter made no attempts to get off the couch, his softening cock resting against his thigh, a large wet spot made by you damping his pants. He gazed up at you, admiring your body while you tried to make yourself presentable again. 

“You know we’re not finished, right?” He asked, raising his brows in amusement. “We went over one, single question. You have an entire chapter to get through.” 

Your mouth fell open in shock, gasping in his direction, the realization setting in, “But-”

“But what? I told you I was going to help you pass this test. We still have work to do.” His mischievous smile grew. “Sit back down.” 

#the amazing spiderman #tasm #peter parker #andrew garfield #tasm x reader #tasm smut #tasm peter parker #tasm peter #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #inexperienced smut prompts #blooming violets #blooming violets fic

[synth-spinner]

Quick thing I rushed for father's day ^_^ Peter b and his kids :3 they r going to save the multiverse ☝️

#NOT EVEN FATHERS DAY ANYMORE HERE BUT YAYYY #slowly working my way out of artblock.. maybe.. #also cried 10 billion tears idk how to draw babies.. #the shading on mayday is rlly off hut im not smart enough to figure out how to save it😭 #also i am extremely inexperienced in drawing spiderverse miles i neeed to draw him more ^_^ #spiderverse #atsv #peter b parker #miles morales #mayday parker #across the spiderverse #isa's art

[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

[munariplans]

Hey! Could i request a fic about a spider reader who has the symbiote in his body and is acting in a more arrogant way and Natasha realizes this and tries to help her girlfriend. Thank you and I love your writing!!

a favour to fury | natasha romanoff

synopsis: based on the request above! i added a little bit of my own twist and had fun with it, hopefully that's ok.

natasha romanoff x venomised! spidey! reader

word count: 4.5k words

warnings: brief graphic descriptions of violence

read part 2 here

masterlist

natasha was five months pregnant when fury approached you regarding a supersecret project norman osborn had been studying for the past year and a half. they had called it a symbiote, you remembered, designed to mutualistically bond with a human host at the subcellular level. 

you had asked what it was for, half-heartedly already packing your things to go home to your pregnant wife. work was done for the day, and fury was holding you back. he said he had wanted to make you stronger, almost invincible. you shot him a look that said seriously? and declined. 

“do i not hit your KPIs or something, nick? do you not trust me enough with my current abilities?” you slung your bag over your shoulder, still very offended that he would suggest such a thing, to you of all people. 

you felt you had been in the team longest, alongside tony. it was so unfair to hint that he wanted something more out of you just because you had been off of your game for the past few months dealing with more personal issues in your life, like your almost-failed marriage. “mind you, i trained that kid, that peter parker, from being nothing but a friendly, neighbourhood spider-man slinging around knocking the teeth out of pickpockets, to being able to deal with world-ending threats we face as avengers. all. by. myself.” 

“i know–”

“–and who was the one who pulled SHIELD out of financial ruin when we almost went under? my weapons, my designs. i wasn’t proud that we sold it off to warring countries, but it helped us stay afloat!”

“and you have helped us out, dearly.”

“and lest you forget, i was the one, the only one, willing to let you and dr. ames experiment on me, injecting that spider serum on me when you knew i had a fifty-fifty chance of screwing up my nervous system beyond repair. when you knew i would most likely end up paralysed if it didn’t work. and i was your best agent!” at this point, you knew you were overcompensating, but it had been a long day, and an even longer week. you had just wanted to go home. but you couldn’t back down. “the one who’s stuck by your side from day one!”

“i know!” nick suddenly barked, slamming the door, your only exit out, shut. “you think i don’t know that?! you think i don’t know just how much i owe you?”

he took one step forward, you took one step back. the look on his face was dangerous, a warning for you not to overstep boundaries. he was still your boss, after all. “but oscorp’s our biggest funding, you know this too. and they need…”

fury’s lips quivered. “...they need someone to test out just the limits of the abilities of this symbiote before we are allowed to use it for our own lines of defence. and norman had initially suggested parker, the boy, because…”

you understood. norman osborn was a disgusting man. “...because he’s currently the weakest one out of all of us. they want to test his limits through it.”

“yes.” fury wasn’t proud of what he was implying either, “but he’s too young, too inexperienced. and i was sure, as his mentor, you were never going to let it happen to him. you don’t admit it, but you love him. you and tony. he disagreed too.”

you couldn’t let it happen to peter. it was too dangerous, too risky. but fuck nick for also thinking that you had nothing to lose. you had a baby on the way, and a relationship just-repaired, for heaven’s sake. 

but if not you, who else?

you knew natasha would have never approved. what you should have done was tell fury you would think about it. that natasha was pregnant, and she needed you relatively sane, and stable, for her and the baby. 

you should have told natasha explicitly of what the experiment entailed, and why you wanted to do it. that you were merely protecting peter, and you didn’t wish for anyone else to suffer through the treatment like you were going to. 

these were things you did when the person you love will inevitably have to go through the ups and many, many downs, of what the next few weeks would entail between the both of you. you had learned from past experience.

in hindsight, you also knew that even though natasha recognised your selflessness, and your sacrifice, she still would not have approved of you destroying your life to save peter’s. but in hindsight, neither of you, nor fury, would have known of just what the venom symbiote would do to you. 

–

the bonding had been relatively painless, taking into account the fact that the team had to sedate you completely before allowing the symbiote to even come close to the host. fury had promised you it was the last favour he would ever draw from you before you shut your eyes, and it was only natasha’s face waiting for you at home that allowed you to drift off under the anaesthesia so willingly. 

when you came to, the aches and bruises from previous fights had suddenly disappeared, and the wear and tear your bones have suffered through the years had dissipated to the point that you felt like you were at the prime of your youth again, just right after they had first injected the spider serum.

–

when you came home, you kissed natasha’s forehead first, then her cheek, then her lips, and finally, down to her swollen belly, where one of these days you hoped you had the privilege of hearing your child kick. 

“how’s the pain today?” you folded your sleeves to your forearms, heading to the sink to wash your hands as natasha began plating dinner. “is he giving you heartburn again?”

natasha moaned in relief as you came to rub circles on the small of her back, untangling the knots that had accumulated in her aching body. “better. he’s learned to not give mama so much pain entering the second trimester. we all grow.”

your soft smile made the woman swoon, even after all these years. “that’s great. atta boy.”

“what about you? how was…” she had wanted to say the inhumane procedure, the cruel dilemma, they put you through, but all she said was, “...the experiment?”

“it was alright,” you reassured her. she knew you hadn’t wanted her to worry, “happy to be back home with you, that’s all.”

it was your signal to her not to push the matter further. it was you telling her that what she didn’t know, couldn’t hurt her.

– 

in the next few days, however, the heightened powers and new abilities that had latched on to you from the symbiote had also brought about a new impatience, a little bit of arrogance within you. 

panting as you watched the pixelated bodies of enemies taken down all around you, your heart pounded in exhilaration at the sight of them “dead”. you had never felt power like this before, and as much as the scowl on fury’s face was deepening day by day, the excitement, and hope, in your own face, began to grow. you really were stronger than ever.

and the sleek, indestructible new suit that the symbiote had formed around you when you were in battle was just a cherry on top. 

–

it had all started when steve asked for a sparring session with you one day. you were usually equally matched with him in toe to toe combats, with the occasional instances where he won by distracting you with natasha’s mention. 

but you had never taken him down as quickly, and easily, as this before. he had fallen with one swift lunge to his stomach, and began choking out his dinner from earlier as you stepped back.

“stop playing with me, captain, get up.” you said, when you got irritated that he told you he needed a breather. 

“y-you’re the one who kicked me so hard in the guts, it really hurts, you know,” he wheezed, catching his breath. 

you scoffed. since when had he become so weak?

you pulled him up against his will, and beat the shit out of him two more times before he raised the white flag desperately.

–

for lunch one afternoon, natasha had come by with her newfound skills in cooking, bearing lunch for the team. she was welcomed with open arms, except for maria, who was nursing a blackeye you had given her earlier. 

as the both of you settled for a break after lunch, however, natasha finally brought up the topic that had been plaguing her mind for the past few weeks. 

she had asked you about your thoughts on her returning to work, on a deskbound duty. “...and the occasional logistical support for missions, if you know what i mean.”

you paused the paperwork you had been doing in front of her, giving it a beat or two, before shaking your head. “no.”

“no…?” she hadn’t expected the firmness of the answer. while she was expecting resistance, she had thought you would be kind enough to humour her with a certainly not in the field, or just desk duty, not a flat-out no. 

“no.”

“why?” she held your hand then, stopping you from returning your pen to paper, and you raised an eyebrow. natasha thought you looked slightly too annoyed for a relatively inoffensive question. “i thought you would be supportive. we agreed, when i was three months along back then, that i could return when i was ready.”

you shook her hand off, sending natasha’s heart down to a plunge. you had been more on edge, even at home recently, to the point where she was feeling she had to almost tiptoe around you on your bad days. “i don’t think i need to explain just how dangerous it would be for you, and the baby. no.”

she called your name in disbelief. “how about just paperwork? i could help you do your paperwork. then we can see each other around more often, just like we used to. i miss you at home, and it’s so terribly boring, all day, being alone.”

“natasha, i said no. you should respect my wishes on this.”

“what is so dangerous about paperwork?!” she stood then, frustrated that you were so unyielding. you never were so unreasonable like this. perhaps, natasha thought, she had gotten too used to receiving the princess treatment from you throughout the duration of your relationship. but she wondered if that was even such a bad thing. “and why are you dictating my decisions and what i want to do?!”

why in hell was she being so annoying today? you found it hard to shake the unsavoury thoughts out of your head. 

just then, natasha’s phone began to ring, a new, annoyingly high-pitched frequency ringtone that immediately sent stings like sharp jabs into the nodes of your brain. you flinched, instantly forgetting what you had wanted to say to her, and dropped the pen you were holding unconsciously. 

“baby…” she grabbed the phone, silenced it, and turned to you, who was panting and massaging your temples from the pain. 

but you only shook your head, preventing her from coming closer. “we’ll talk about this later at home, okay? i’m not feeling so good right now.”

“do you want me to fix you anything? do you want to lie down?” she came to you, holding her hands over yours, noticing they were shaking. you visibly calmed as she ran her hands up and down your back, bringing you back to earth with her. 

natasha led you to sit by the sofa again, climbing on top of you to hold you as you calmed down. it was in her embrace that the ringing finally stopped, and you could refocus. 

it was also in her embrace that your mind suddenly cleared, and the remnants of the conversation just before came back to you. you had been so dismissive. 

your eyes watering as you faced her, you said, “i don’t know what came over me…i was so…out of it, earlier. i don’t know why i…why i thought you didn’t deserve to come back. i’m so sorry, nat.”

she furrowed her eyebrows in worry. she wondered if it was something she needed to bring up with fury, on the effects of the experiment on you. but she piped it all down, insteading threading her fingers through your hair and pressing a comforting kiss on your lips. 

“it’s okay, we’ll discuss this more at home.”

“no, i…” you needed to rectify your mistake, needed to make it up to her. you couldn't stand knowing you had hurt her feelings by underestimating her, “...i’m going to talk to fury. see what roles we have for you that’s convenient for you and our son. i’ll…”

you got up shakily then, placing natasha back down on the sofa. there were cold sweats beginning to form on your forehead. natasha pleaded for you to sit down and rest for a bit, but you were already out the door in the next second, leaving her more concerned, and confused, than ever. 

– 

in the tests that followed in the next few days, natasha watched, in worry and obvious agony, the way you were losing yourself more quickly than ever. 

fury stood next to her behind the safety of bulletproof glass, where you were on the other side, in a climate and condition controlled environment. it was essentially SHIELD’s containment room for the most dangerous of specimens. 

but she thought you looked so small, so vulnerable, in the middle of the vastness of the room, crouched with your head hung low between your legs. 

“fury, we should stop. she’s clearly at the limit.” she held her hand over his on the console, but the man standing right next to fury was adamant. 

she hated norman osborn for what he was about to say. “we’re so close. just a few more tests.” 

he swatted hers and fury’s hand away, and pressed the button the both of them had been hovering above. the enemies came charging again, and despite your pleas for a breather, the symbiote had automatically enveloped you in the suit and began defending the both of you again. 

you were exhausted. every fibre in your body hurt, and the symbiote was seeping all of your strength and willpower to do the fighting for you. you were nothing more than a bird in a cage for fury and osborn, then, you knew. and you regretted so much allowing natasha into the viewing panel for your test, in the name of her helping to fill out your paperwork for the symbiote. 

“no more, please…” you begged the team above then, wanting to just collapse, and crawl into natasha’s arms perhaps, and forget about the extremely harrowing and traumatic day you just had. 

but osborn wasn’t so kind. and he had pressed the button to test the symbiote’s limits once again. “please, mr. osborn!”

“stop,” you breathed as more enemies charged right in, “stop,” you had begged when the suit once again took all the spirit that you had left, “stop,” you tried a final time, when osborn tried something new this time; a high-frequency call that the lab had identified to be a potential weakness. 

“i said STOP!” it wasn’t you who screamed it the last time. a much deeper, gravelly voice had taken over, along with the explosion of black tendrils emanating from your suit. the enemies were flung into pixelated darkness, but the tendrils had pierced right through them, aiming for the source of the pain; the frequency pitch. 

it destroyed the sound system in the containment cell, but it was not enough. because even as fury slammed the controls to stop all the tests at once, the tendrils were still against the glass of the viewing panel, and as the symbiote spread and spread, the bulletproof glass, for the very first time since natasha had used it for the past decade or so, cracked. 

osborn watched in horror as the crack began to spread, before he was quickly knocked out by natasha pushing him aside to reach the microphone. 

“baby, it’s me. it’s natasha!”

the tendrils stopped the rampage on the glass momentarily. it had worked. fury instructed her to go further. “please, can you…can you get the symbiote off of the glass? we–i–want to see you, please.”

it was silent for a minute, then two, and with her heart in her mouth, natasha watched as the tendrils slowly retreated, shrinking the surface area they covered until your body was visible and it had gone back into the suit. 

and natasha’s heart broke at the sight of you unconscious, at the mercy of the symbiote, and crouched into a foetal position to try to protect yourself before the explosion from earlier. 

hell hath no fury like a pregnant woman, norman osborn learned that day, as he went home with more bruises and broken bones from one natasha romanoff than he had ever had to endure his whole life. 

– 

you no longer liked the strength, the agility, the injury-free protection, the symbiote gave. not after that test. not after it had caused you to wake up in the medical wing, with a sobbing natasha by your side begging you to stop the experiments, and let the symbiote go.

“what is happening to you?” she begged later on, as she had climbed into the bed herself and enveloped herself in your embrace. you shushed her cries and reassured her that you would fix everything. that you were alright, and you were going to be alright for her.

“i don’t know, i’m sorry.” lately, all you could say was you were sorry. it was terribly unfair to natasha.

and to make things even worse, the moment that those meaningless, obsolete words left your mouth, a hint of movement came from natasha’s belly, triggering your spider senses immediately. the baby had just kicked. 

when you forced natasha to go home to rest with laura later on, for the first time in your life, you cried yourself to sleep at the failure of a partner you had once again become for your wife.

–

natasha was understandably reluctant at your request to be separated. but she was also pragmatic, and understanding that you had to do it not only for her own safety, but your peace of mind. she was too good to you, you always knew.

“it’s just for a week,” you reminded her, lips still chasing hers as the both of you fought on who would say goodbye first. 

she latched on to your tongue. “i know.”

“just a week.”

“i know.” 

but the both of you groaned then. “but why does it seem like forever?”

– 

“fuck osborn.”

“heard.”

“we’re removing that symbiote from you,” fury looked a little unkempt, which, if you knew fury, meant he was at the edge of losing it. it was clear how much the symbiote had been affecting him as well, “i can’t lose you.”

leaning against his desk, you nodded. “please, fury.”

–

several attempts were made, with many different methods the team of SHIELD’s best scientists had tried, to remove the symbiote from your host. but obviously, without the principal team who had done the research on the symbiote itself, it was difficult to do so without oscorp’s help. 

all attempts had been unsuccessful. and the symbiote inside you was growing angrier and angrier. 

it broke your heart to see, that after each lashing out, each beratement and burst of anger you had at the team, they oddly seemed…afraid of you. and yet you couldn’t tell them that you yourself were drowning, that you had no control over your own emotions and actions in those bursts of anger, that it wasn’t you. fury had sworn you to secrecy. 

perhaps it was for the best that you had sent natasha away. you were deathly afraid of what you would do to her if the symbiote lashed out in her presence. 

you called her every morning, and she called you every night. it was a routine the both of you agreed to set up, mostly to keep yourself sane and for natasha to not worry about you too much. it broke your heart to know that one morning, she hadn’t answered your call because she was at the obstetrician, all alone. natasha hated going for her medical appointments all alone. 

afterwards, you apologised profusely for missing out on your baby’s development, and had sent her a bouquet of flowers. but you still felt it was barely adequate for making it up to her. you hated yourself for hurting natasha because of your own damn actions, once again. 

she was only kind enough to tell you that she was alright, and that you needed to focus on getting the symbiote out before returning to her. 

–

but as the days passed with little to no success of the extraction, you were growing more frustrated, and the symbiote was growing more powerful. 

natasha was approaching six months, and you hadn’t answered any of her calls for a few days now. you were afraid of what little progress you would have to tell her, and worried over what her reaction would be. 

you’re a failure. you are always going to be a failure. she will hate you, and she will regret even getting to know someone like you, marrying you, being the mother of your child. you cannot be the one she deserves. you don’t deserve anyone. except us. us.

the voices weren’t your own. you should have known. 

“fury, please, please,” you begged, barging into the meeting room he was in, barking orders at the scientists to try harder, to think of solutions faster. they were clearly at their wits’ end too. 

“please, call oscorp,” you got on your knees for him, in front of everyone, grabbing his hands in desperation, “call osborn here. i’ll do anything, i’ll beg him too, to get this thing off of me.”

“you know norman’s not going to stop once he has you. he’ll turn you into something even worse if we let him have you.”

“please!” you were crying then, feeling like a child begging their parents for an unachievable, stupid, stupid dream. only this time, you were begging for your life back. 

–

“i’m scared, nick. of what this will do to me, of what i will become.”

nick had brought you aside later that evening. it was in his eyes that heartbreak was evident; he knew all too well what he had done to you. and he had fucked up, truly, this time. 

“i’m so sorry.”

“please, try again, can you try again?” you were in the room where they had conducted the tests; the containment cell. you knew fury was slightly afraid of being in the same room with you all alone, and there was a reason he had brought you there. you could get into the cell if you lost control. 

he shook his head. “i just–we just–don’t have anything…”

“i cannot become the symbiote, nick. i have natasha, and the child, at home. i can’t go like this, please.”

you were hunched over the console, grabbing at it desperately to stop the symbiote from coming out, from enveloping you in your shared rage at fury’s insistence, and killing the man right before you. beads of cold perspiration drenched your entire being, and the look in your eyes was one the man had never seen in all the years he had worked with you. 

he could only shake his head, and leave the room. outside the compound, fury screamed into the vast nothingness of the night, exasperated in his futility and your predicament. 

– 

but natasha had had enough of your pulling back, of you pushing her away. she was not about to lose you again. she had almost lost you to wanda then, she was not going to lose you to a symbiote now. 

and as she arrived at the compound and discovered that it was eerily dark, and empty, the first person that she hounded was fury. 

he apologised to her as well, over the phone, and told her that he had instructed everyone to go home early for the day. the avengers were told to find accommodation elsewhere. something about a routine deep-cleaning going on for the night. 

it was suspicious the moment he told her you were still inside, however. still, she braved the recurring doubts in the back of her mind, stole her old equipment back when she was still on active mission duty, and braved through the compound. 

“just me and you baby, don’t give mama such a hard time, okay?” she even winced, when the baby kicked right as she rounded a corner. 

and you admired your wife, adored her, even, for still braving through six months of pregnancy and trying to find you in an almost-abandoned compound. the compound was never empty. the lights were never flickering, and you were never alone just with her in that entire building. 

but when she carefully opened the door to where you were, still hunched over the same console she had smashed norman osborn’s face against just a few weeks ago, you wholeheartedly wished she was the last person to find you in that way. 

the shock in her breath was evident, with the number of dead bodies around you then, and the distinct stench of blood in the air. you were shaking, breathing haphazard, as you tried centering yourself not to hurt anyone else. three breaths in, two breaths out, you always taught natasha in her panic attacks. now, you struggled to even manage it yourself. 

“baby…?” the woman didn’t want to believe what she was seeing. 

you shook your head painfully. why, of all people, why did it have to be her? the gun was aimed right at you, you knew, and you struggled to bring yourself up to even face her. your efforts ended with you falling right onto the console again. 

“...tell me what’s going on. tell me what’s wrong, we can still get through this together.” you absolutely despised the fear in her voice. 

instead, all you could choke out was, “natasha…”

you finally turned to face her. natasha dropped the gun at the symbiote already engulfing half of your face, milky white eyes replacing the eye patches in your mask, sharp, elongated teeth forming around your mouth area. the symbiote had clearly gained full control. 

in the one eye that was still yours, you were tearful, as you begged her, “...please, get out of here.”

a/n: does this call for a part 2?

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel cinematic universe #venom! reader #venom symbiote #natasha romanoff x spidey!reader

[angelltheninth]

NSFW Masterlist Part 2

Part 2 of my NSFW Master list.

DC COMICS

Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader - Night on the Rooftops

Bruce Wayne Being a Sloppy Eater

Harley Quinn x Male!Reader - Fun Times All Around

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader - Game On

Dark!Conner Kent x Fem!Reader - Darkness Come to Light

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader - Jason's Hardest Task

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader - Fulfilling Desires

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader - Just One More

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader - Not Just a Friend

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader - Ride Around Town

MCU

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader - Endurance Test

M'Baku x Fem!Reader - Used to This Feeling

Venom x Fem!Reader - Symbiotic Relations

Steven Grant with a Praising and Overstimulating You

Hydra!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader - To Have and to Take

Moon Boys Reaction to Ball Sucking

Moon Boys + Where They Like to Do It

Aftercare with Moon Boys

MCU Men Punishing You

Hydra Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader - Making You His

Moon Boys + Thigh Riding

Moon Boys Pining You

Moon Boys Reacting to Getting a Blowjob

Dominant Jake Lockley

Pietro Maximoff x Fem!Reader - Forever and a Day

Hooking Up with Steven Grant and Marc Spector

Marc Spector x Fem!Reader - Minor Cooking Accident

General NSFW Headcanons with Steven Grant and Marc Spector

Pietro Maximoff with a Praise Kink

Long Distance Relationship with Pietro Maximoff

Pietro Maximoff + Grinding

NSFW Alphabet with Xu Wenwu

Rough Sex with Xu Wenwu

TWISTED WONDERLAND

Idia Shroud x Fem!Reader - Different Kind of Heat

Vil Schoenheit x Fem!Reader - Not So Perfect Anymore

Overstimulation with Cater Diamond

Leona Kingscholar x Fem!Reader - Kingmaker

Corruption Kink with Idia Shroud

Trey Clover x Fem!Reader - Tears for Pleasure

Azul Ashengrotto x Reader - Under the Bubbles

Rook Hunt x Fem!Reader - Hunting Prey

Divus Crewel x Fem!Reader - Call Me Cruel

Malleus Draconia x Fem!Reader - My Fangs for You

Leona Kingscholar x Fem!Reader - A Welcome Awakening

Malleus Draconia x Fem!Reader - Dragon Love

CRITICAL ROLE

Percy de Rolo x Fem!Reader - The Gunslinger and His Beauty

Fjord Stone x Male!Reader NSFW Headcanons

Essek x Male!Reader NSFW Headcanons

Percy de Rolo x Vax'ildan + Grinding

Percy e Rolo x Fem!Reader - Nice and Warm

NSFW Headcanons with Percy de Rolo

GENSHIN IMPACT

Jealous Dottore Breeds You

Genshin Men After You Use the Safeword

Genshin Men Fucking You When Someone Comes In

Kink Discovery with Al Haitham

Size Kink with Dainslief, Enjou and Pantalone

Genshin Men + Scenting

Thigh Riding with Al Haitham

Thigh Kissing with Cyno

Thigh Riding with Kaeya and Dottore

Dottore with a Corruption Kink

CEO!Childe x Secretary!Fem!Reader

General Kinks with Dottore, Pantalone and Pierro

Zhongli, Gorou and Tighnari Having Their Rut Triggered

Dottore, Childe and Pantalone with a Fox!Reader

Fem!Dottore with a Fem!Reader who has Small Chest

Zhongli and Childe With a Quiet S/O

Genshin Men with a Fem!Reader who has Big Chest

Cockwaming Itto

Genshin Men Being Feral

Edging Al Haitham

Zhongli and Itto Giving You a Mating Mark

Genshin Men with an S/O who has Small Chest

Genshin Men Fucking You in Public

Itto, Zhongli, Gorou and Tighnari with a Primal Kink

Gorou Being a Mean Dom

Genshin Men Reacting to You Wanting to Go for Another Round

Half-Adeptai Zhongli

Genshin Men When You're Inexperienced

Cockwaming Zhongli

Zhongli with a Breeding Kink

Orgasm Control with Genshin Men

Itto, Gorou and Zhongli in Rut

Genshin Impact Men + Awkward Boners

First Time Blowjob with Genshin Men

Genshin Men Having A Quickie With You

Thoma Being a Service Top

Genshin Men Using Toys on You

Dottore x Fem!Reader - Please Doctor

Genshin Men + Thigh Riding

Genshin Men + Breeding Kink

Genshin Men Stamina Headcanons

Genshin Men Being Desperate To Have You

Genshin Men + Praise

Genshin Men Reacting to You Wanting Them to Finish Inside of You

Genshin Men + Grinding Headcanons

Zhongli x Fem!Reader - Sharing the Warmth

Genshin Men + First Time With You

Driving Zhongli Crazy Until He Snaps

Dominat Arlecchino Headcanons

#masterlist #dc comics x reader #mcu x reader #twst x reader #critical role x reader #genshin impact x reader

[thursdaygxrls]

thin ice — four

part one | part two | part three | part four

summary — kitty is yet again dragged to a social gathering she would rather not attend. the bait this time? weed!

paring — uni hockey player!peter parker x fem!(journalist)!reader

disclaimer — who is expecting me to own peter parker by now?? bc i don’t

warnings — reader is referred to as ‘kitty,’ weed, slightly inexperienced reader (experienced peter, no smut yet im sorry), possible ooc

Days like these were the ones Kitty craved: hazy, chilly spring weather that resembled fall, except that dying leaves were replaced by cherry-red buds, and flowers bloomed through blades of grass. It was one of those days with no responsibilities to fill her precious hours—the ones that were spent scrolling through Pinterest and reading. She was stretched haphazardly along her bed, still dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt with holes in the armpits. The blinds were still closed, so the sudden beam of light next to her startled her.

“You love interrupting my dark-dwelling time,” she hissed as MJ entered the room. Sticking out her tongue, MJ closed the door behind her and sealed off the obnoxious light, much to Kitty’s relief.

“I’m sorry, my sun-hating princess,” MJ spoke dramatically as she rummaged through her bag, “But, I come bearing gifts.”

At this, Kitty perked up, swiping out of Project Makeover and sitting up to devote her full attention to her roomate. From her bag, MJ produced two plastic-wrapped chocolate-chip cookies and tossed them to bed. The girl pounced on them, immediately tearing into the plastic on one of the packs.

“I forgive you,” she said before biting into the treat.

“Thank God,” MJ replied in dramatic relief. Ease settled over the room as MJ removed her jacket and went about unpacking her things. Kitty, now finished with her first cookie, tossed the used plastic to the trash can across the room (and missed horribly). 

“What’ve you been up to this lovely Friday?” She asked her freckled friend, who was currently changing out of her cable knit sweater. 

“Oh, you know, class,” MJ responded as she slid a Stevie Nicks shirt over her head, “Some people still have class on Fridays.”

“That must be heartbreaking,” Kitty hummed sarcastically, “Anything else?”

“Oh, yeah,” MJ’s movements were smooth as she went through her bag, “I had lunch with Harry after class.”

“Was the dining hall romantic?” Kitty questioned with a smile.

“Totally,” MJ responded with a laugh, “The black-bean burgers are basically aphrodisiacs. Anyways, he invited us out to Hot Rock around eight, so I was thinking we could get dinner–”

“No, thanks,” Kitty intercepted, bringing her legs up closer to her torso and flattening her lips to a line, “I’m not leaving the dorm today.”

“If you had it your way, you’d do that every day,” MJ groaned.

“And?’ Kitty quirked a brow, causing another grumble to leave her counterpart.

“Do you realize how much I say ‘no’ to stuff?” She continued, “‘Kitty, wanna go to a hockey game?’ No. ‘Kitty, wanna go to a frat party?’ No. Our entire relationship exists on the basis of you wanting to do stuff and me trying to refuse.”

“But you still went,” MJ raised her brows hopefully, “To both things. And it’s not like it’s just going to be Harry, he said some other people would be there.”

“Oh, great, other people, you know how much I love social gatherings where I don’t know anyone.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“You know Peter,” MJ suggested. Kitty hadn’t seen Peter in a while. ‘A while,’ in her case, was a week. She’d gotten some semi-regular texts from him (cat memes and open invites to hang out) but hadn’t seen him since the frat party.

“Is it the best use of their time to be at Hot Rock when the semi-finals are two days away?” Kitty asked.

“No, probably not, but,” MJ’s smile, which had been dimming, came back with full vibrance, “But we can reap the benefits of their deviant behavior.”

“Are the benefits better than chocolate chip cookies?” She hummed.

“Pre-rolls and a bong,” MJ wiggled her fingers in a tamer version of jazz hands. Kitty seemed to deflate with a loud sigh.

“I hate that you make me do things.”

Hot Rock existed on the older, suburban side of campus. Right behind one of the major dining halls was a small, hidden space that hit the blind spot of the security cameras in the area. It wasn’t a rock so much as an artificial slab of stone with a metal pipe attached that spewed hot steam. It was connected to the heating system in the dining hall, but also served as a popular spot for stoners. A few of these man-made smoke spots were scattered around campus, but this one was the most popular, mainly because this rock was always much hotter than the others.

Kitty’s breath appeared in small puffs in the night air and she and MJ walked around the corner of the dining hall. It was spring, and the weather was getting warmer, but there was still a bit of frost. As they shuffled down a small slope, the rock revealed itself, decorated with about four people, one of them being Harry.

“MJ!” He nearly fell over himself scrambling towards the pair. He pressed a small kiss to her lips and wrapped an arm around her in greeting. MJ giggled, choosing to ignore Kitty’s gagging face.

“Kitty-cat!” Harry directed his grinning face to her, “I’m so glad MJ got you out of your tree.”

“I almost wish you’d just call me ‘bitch’ instead of that,” she replied. Harry, not losing any vigor, laughed.

“I know what you need.” He wagged his brows as he reached into the breast pocket of his flannel. He produced a mini pre-rolled joint with a proud grin, “Kitty needs her catnip.”

“I’m gonna let that one slide,” she said, and he simply chuckled. His eyes moved from hers, and somehow his impossibly bright smile widened. Kitty turned and was met with a familiar pair of hazel eyes.

“I’m a big fan of catnip, too,” Peter grinned, sliding down to meet the rest of the group.

“Hey, Peter,” Harry let go of MJ for a moment to give Peter a half-hug. Peter’s eyes, however, never let go of Kitty. He held her gaze with ease.

“Can we sit? My ass is cold,” MJ grumbled lightly as Harry took his post next to her.

“Of course, of course,” was Harry’s hurried reply. The four found spots on the rock, Harry returning to his original spot and taking MJ with him. Kitty settled in a small nook where the slab met a natural rock formation, and, as if she was a magnetic pole, Peter sat next to her. A few awkward introductions were shared with the others at the rock, though, it was clear they were all at least a few hits into Harry’s pre-rolls. 

“So,” Peter’s voice cracked through the silence, “We keep finding each other, don’t we?”

“You keep finding me,” Kitty corrected.

“Same difference,” he shrugged. Wordlessly, he slipped his backpack from his shoulder and set it down in front of him. He worked in surprising order as he removed the items: a grinder, a small, rolled-up plastic bag, a green bong that had seen better days.

“Are student athletes supposed to be smoking?” She asked. For once, his gaze wasn’t focused on her, but on the contents before him.

“Helps with nerves,” he said, grabbing the baggy, “It’s medical, y’know.”

“Hm, I bet,” she replied. He worked with diligence: his long, slender fingers plucked a chunk of bud from the bag and trapped it in the grinder. The sleeves of his black long sleeve were rolled up, revealing his wrist that tensed lightly when he ground the bud. She’d never quite noticed how strong his hands looked—veiny and taught, likely from the hours upon hours of hockey practice. Then came the realization that she was staring, which pulled her attention away from him and to the others on the rock. Though there weren’t many people, pockets of conversation were created: MJ and Harry, who were cuddled up and passing a joint, two other members of the hockey team and a girl with shaggy blonde hair, and, of course, her and Peter. 

“Alright,” Peter hummed in satisfaction as he packed the bowl. He grabbed a red lighter from the front pocket of his jeans and finally looked at Kitty. He held the bong out for her with one of those easy, boyish smiles, “Wanna do the honors, Y/n?”

Peter seemed to be good at evoking emotions from her. Annoyance, frustration, confusion, and now, prickly embarrassment. She licked her lips, looking from the bong and back to him.

“Um,” she let out a small cough, “I’m…not sure how to?”

She wasn’t new to smoking. There was the occasional joint she and MJ would indulge in, or maybe she would take a hit off cart at one of the parties she was dragged to. She’d just hadn’t gotten the chance to hit a bong before—a fact that didn’t bother her until she was here, staring at Peter. She hated her reply and the way she stumbled with her words. She hated that she had nothing better to say. She hated that she had released blood into the water.

“You haven’t done this before?” He grinned. Her jaw clenched at the way he said that. Kitty, in response, sucked her teeth.

“Have you never smoked before?” He cocked his head.

“No, I have, just not this,” she sighed, a slight aggravated clip to her words. Peter must’ve noticed because his gloating grin softened.

“That’s alright,” his voice was more mellow now, “That’s okay, everyone has a first time.”

This persona, the calmer one he adapted when he knew she was getting pissed off, may have pissed her off even more. If he wasn’t being an asshole, it was harder to be annoyed with him, which made her annoyed with him, which made her annoyed with herself.

“Okay,” she said, a cleansing breath of chilled spring air filling her lungs.

“Okay?” He repeated, “You want to try?”

Kitty glanced at MJ and Harry. They weren’t doing anything graphic, but they were still all over each other, giggling and whispering. She turned back to Peter and nodded.

“You sure?” He raised a brow.

“Gimme,” she groaned, taking the glass bong from his hands. He let out a small, breathy chuckle and nodded.

“Okay, so,” he sat up, “I’m gonna light it, you breathe in through the mouth right here. I’ll pull the bowl for you and you keep breathing in, okay?”

Kitty nodded, her lips descending on the mouthpiece. A sudden flash of panic struck her as he flicked the lighter. Did she look stupid? Was she being stupid? Why did she care? Peter lit the bowl, and she did as he said, sucking in a deep drag. The bong bubbled to life and milky smoke flooded the tube.

“Good, good,” Peter encouraged as he pulled the bowl, “Keep sucking in—there you go, just like that.”

She’d been doing fine until he’d spoken. His words, meant as innocent encouragement, sent blood rushing to her face. Her scalp burned as her head reared back and ragged coughs escaped her. Smoke left her lips in puffs, like dust being stirred from an old book. Peter patted her back with one hand and rummaged through his bag with another.

“That happens,” he spoke, unphased by her continuous coughing. He took a metal water bottle decorated in stickers in various states of wear from his bag and unscrewed the lid.

“Here, drink,” he brought it to her lips and she immediately sucked down the water. It was cold against her burning throat. She focused on how cool it was, hoping it would also subdue the burning in her face. A few gulps later, Kitty was back to a semi-normal state. She took in deep breaths, swirling in oxygen with the cannabis in her lungs. 

“That was a big-ass hit. Good job,” Peter chuckled, “When was the last time you smoked?”

“I don’t know, a few weeks ago? And thank you,” Kitty replied. There wasn’t a hint of snark in her words, which was highly unusual. The afterburn of her influx of new feelings was still there.

“That oughta do it,” he took the bong from her, “I mean, you can totally have more, but your tolerance is probably pretty low, and the hit you just took looked more like three.”

“Yeah, that oughta do it,” she coughed out. He eyed her, suspicious of her lack of sass, before lighting the bowl for himself.

The bong caught up with her within ten minutes. There was a low vibration in her body, one that pulsed in her fingertips and warmed her. Her vision was a bit more narrow now, like she was viewing movie through her vision. Her mind bubbled, and when her eyes caught a glimpse of the sky, she leaned back with astonished glee.

It wasn’t often that you saw stars in the sky on this side of New York. Usually, the city lights blocked out anything non-artificial. But here, a mile or so away from the more prominent lights, she was able to see the glimmer of distant stars. It was captivating, really, and she could’ve stared at them for hours. Maybe she did. People buzzed around her without her recognition. Even Peter seemed to settle into a comfortable silence next to her. 

“Do you remember that one episode of Hannah Montana where Miley moves into a new house and there’s a pizza oven? Like, one of those wood ovens you put pizza in. A pizza oven? Yeah?” She asked, glancing in Peter’s direction. He seemed to only slightly register the question before looking at her with a cocked brow.

“No,” he replied.

“Oh,” she hummed, “What about the one where—it’s the third episode, I think—the one where Oliver—no, it’s the second episode—the one where Oliver is in love with Hannah Montana, but he doesn’t know it’s Miley, so Miley and Lilly are like ‘oh, no!’” 

“No,” he repeated. His voice wasn’t harsh, though. It was soft, maybe even curious.

“It’s good,” she said, “Real good. Real good.” 

It was around then that the stars began to lull her to sleep. There was something comfortable about this moment: the heat of the rock, the stars, the weed in her system. She drifted off for a moment and was quickly awoken by a gentle shake.

“Y/n?” Peter called lightly, “Are you sleepy?”

His hand was on her arm. His hand was on her arm. Her eyes settled on that before she could even begin to process his words. His hand was lovely, truly, with its web of veins, the slender fingers that warmed her skin. She looked up to him and smiled.

“Hey!” Was her cheery reply. He laughed at this and nodded. Kitty cocooned inside herself once more as he turned away and called out to someone on the other side of the rock. She heard Harry, then MJ, then Peter again. It sounded like hearing a foreign language as the spoke.

“Would you like to sleep in your bed instead of this rock?” Peter asked. Kitty, still cocooned, sprung forward a bit.

“Yes,” she responded confidently. He couldn’t help but smile at her tone. He packed away his bag swiftly and stood, offering a hand to Kitty.

“You think I can’t stand up? Oh, I can stand up—I’m an olympic stander,” she mumbled, rejecting his hand. This side of her was something Peter had never experienced. He was used to snippy comments and sharp replies, but the inebriated, bumbling Kitty was an entirely different person. He liked it. A lot.

They began their trek back to Kitty’s dorm in silence. It was comfortable like this: quiet interrupted by the occasional off-key hum by the girl. It wasn’t a very far walk, only five minutes or so, and when they reached the front, Peter’s tight grin loosened a bit.

“Hey, I wanted to ask you something,” he said, his hand gently catching her arm. In this state, she wasn’t able to deny the electric current that was sent through her nervous system. Kitty shivered as she met his eyes.

“I know you’re not in the right headspace for this, so I’ll ask you again later, but…” he trailed off. He looked away from her, and she caught the way his throat bobbed slightly. This lasted for only a moment before he was making eye contact again, “Do you wanna come to semis?”

That wasn’t the question she expected. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Instead of responding, she stared blankly at him.

“It’s not here, it’s actually kind of far away,” he was rambling now, “Well, not super far, it’s in New Jersey. It’s sort of late notice, so I know you might not want to go, and you have your own shit to worry about, too, so—”

“This is very weird,” Kitty interrupted.

“What?” Peter stopped, looking to her with a quirked brow.

“You’re acting nervous and talking a lot. Weird,” she said.

“Yeah, well, I am nervous, and I’m a little high, and you’re really hot, so there’s just a lot going on up here.” He gestured to his head. Her eyes were blank for several seconds before they sparked in recognition.

“Oh—oh.” Her expression changed rapidly, eventually landing on something akin to realization. Silence swelled between them for a moment before it was broken by one word: “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Peter repeated.

“Maybe,” she nodded in agreement. His lips tugged into a boyish smile once more.

“Okay, Y/n,” he grinned, “Maybe.”

a/n — (in the voice of that one meme) heyy….how y’all doin??? okay so im sorry that this update is months late, college has been a lot. it’s been fun tho!! like, i think im the happiest ive ever been. anyways, im sorry if this update doesn’t fit as well with the others, im trying to get back into the groove of writing, forgive me 🙏 love u guys!!

taglist

@reidslovely @awezomezauce @tarzinnia @fr3akho3 @multilovebot @collywobbl @naok-iyuu @kay-i-guess @littlexscarletxwitch @ujimoo

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #tasm! peter parker x reader #tasm!peter imagine #peter parker #peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x you #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #mcu!peter x reader #mcu!spiderman x reader #mcu!peter parker #mcu!peter parker x reader #hockey peter #hockey peter parker #hockey peter x reader #hockey peter parker x reader #thin ice #thursday writes

[nerdasaurus1200]

Not that I thought Miles was ever wrong but the more I think about it the more his desperation to save his dad in Across and absolute refusal to stand back and let him die makes perfect sense for his character development.

Cause on the one hand yeah obviously that’s his dad and they may butt heads but Miles still loves him more than anything and no way is he gonna let some petty argument with his father be the last time they ever interact.

But also, I think it’s his trauma from the first movie talking. Cause think about it, his dad is his last male positive male role model left.

The very first one, Uncle Aaron, he lost in a very traumatic way at a very young age, right in front of him.

And then his world’s Peter Parker, once again, right in front of him

And both times he was young and inexperienced and he couldn’t do anything to save them. But this time, he’s older and he’s learned the ropes. He’s more than capable now. So over his dead body is he gonna stand back and let someone he loves die a third time.

#into the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #nerd talks #miles morales #aaron davis #peter parker #jefferson davis #analysis

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

THE TEACHER- J.B BARNES, P.B PARKER

Pairing: Best friend! Bucky x Fem! Reader, Roommate! Peter x Fem Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Request(s): “can you do please write a piece where you reveal to bucky that you never touched yourself because you don’t know how so he shows you and it’s filled with praise and good girl pls?”

“experienced peter parker overhears his best friend/roommate with what sounds like a vibrator. he goes to investigate, and confirms she has a new toy, but doesn’t know how to use it right. he offers her a better one from his own collection to help her out when she asks him to teach her how to use it…”

Warnings: masturbation, vibrator used, fingering, praise kink, pet names, breeding kink, swearing, overstimulation...

You were shy. Bucky knew that, you knew that. It had taken a lot of courage to act on your feelings, pulling out the strength to tell your best friend what you needed, how you needed it. 

Anytime you had tried to get the words out, they had fallen flat in your mouth, tasting stale as you stumbled around them. The two of you had slowly been establishing a relationship, something closer than ‘just friends’, and it was scary to you. 

Frightening. It was new, and foreign and it made you flustered.

 After endless nights he had come over to hang out, there had been kisses stolen between bites of home cooked meals, arms wrapping around your body whenever you read to him, his hands finding their way to touch and squeeze your skin in a way that was more than friendly. 

But you enjoyed it. Craved it- really. 

So when he had asked if he was allowed to touch you, allowed to kiss more than just your lips and cheeks, you had agreed happily. Though your cheeks burned hot, you had vocalized to him that you wanted it. 

But you were inexperienced. 

“You’ve never been touched before angelface?” he asked softly, doe eyes wide and sparkling as he peered down at you. 

No, you had shaken your head, fingers reaching to grab any part of him you could reach. 

“Have you touched yourself?”

 “No. And I know it’s so silly I just feel so.. I don’t really know. I don’t know what to do.” you confessed, wanting to dig your head into the mattress like an ostrich. 

But he just smiled, seeming more excited if anything. “Oh honey it's okay! I’ll teach you, mkay? You just lay back and be a pretty girl for me yea?” 

You nodded, head spinning. This was seriously happening. Bucky was here, and he was caressing you like silk. 

“Theres no need to be embarrassed or nervous. I’m here now, okay? I’m here to take care of you.” he murmured, gazing down on you like you were his next meal, licking his lips in delight.

 “Thank you Bucky.” you sighed, leaning into his touch. “Good girl.” 

His hand reached for yours, the other parting your legs wider apart. The cool air sent shivers down your spine, a pressure churning at your lower abdomen. 

“You’re just going to put these two fingers right here okay? It’ll feel so nice.” he smiled, hand guiding yours, helping you slip past your soaked folds to ease your smaller fingers inside of you. 

“Oh!” you whimpered as you slipped them in, feeling your soft walls around the digits. “There we go, atta girl.” 

“It feels so nice.” you confessed, head lolling against the pillow- anxiety fading away with every little praise he slipped you. “Yea? Put your thumb right here angelface, and roll little circles mkay?” 

You jolted as he tapped your clit with the tip of his finger, watching your mouth part into a little O as you began to rub it. 

“You're so sensitive aren't you baby? Just wait till I’m inside you eh?”

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

Peter heard you from the kitchen, clear as day. It was almost as if you weren’t even trying to hide it, unaware he was home. He had already made his presence known, slamming his keys down on the counter, shuffling around the kitchen without a care in the world. 

He had heard the little machine buzzing from behind the closed door, little whimpers escaping your lips. He groaned, gripping the counter until his knuckles were vampire white, doing everything in his power to hold himself back from what he was about to do. 

But the two of you were roommates. It was only fair to himself he checked in on you, for a noise complaint. 

Adjusting himself in his jeans, he wasted no time bolting to your bedroom door, peeking it open a crack. The sight before him nearly had him falling to his knees. Your back arched, legs parted as you murmured sweet nothings into the side of your pillow.

 “Whatcha got there?” he asked, slipping into your bedroom, making you jump. “Oh god I’m-” 

“Well don’t stop now pretty girl, I was enjoying the show! Don’t get all shy on me now.” he cooed, arms crossing as he slumped back against the doorframe, smirk wide on his face. 

The prick, you thought, turning off your sanctuary for the night- embarrassed you had got caught, even if it was from Peter. He had heard you before, there was no doubt about it. You wanted him to hear. And you had seen your fair share of his hand wrapped around his cock, fist fucking myself to spill on his stomach. That image made your head spin, always on a constant loop. 

“I don’t even know how to use it properly. Don’t get it twisted smartass.” you quipped, making his eyes widen. 

You didn’t know how to work it? That wouldn't do for him.

 “Stay here.” 

“Pete-”

 “Stay.” he commanded, voice stern as he stared your body down, watching your chest rapidly rise and fall. His room was only a couple of strides from yours, and it took him next to no time with his long legs, shoving open his door to reveal the mess that was his room.

 Bolting right for the nightstand drawer, he revealed his collection of toys he kept on handy, just in case anything came up. And now, something had come up. He grabbed the pretty pink one, the one he had been dying to use on you. It was all he could think about for days, catching his eye the second he saw it. Tonight was the perfect chance for him to experiment on you, make you cry out his name in ecstasy right underneath him.

 “Peter?” you called softly from your room, startling him from his daydreams. You were still perched on your bed, right where he left you. Your eyes widened as you took note of the toy gleaming in his hand, coaxing at you.

 “May I?” he asked, to which you nodded. You shimmed back on your elbows to your pillow, watching as he sat on your sheets, fingers dancing across your legs, luring them to spread for him. 

“Can- can you teach me?” you asked shyly. It was music to his ears. He smiled, that sweet, charming smile that you saw him use so often to other girls, that you had so desperately wanted on you. 

You craved his attention like a drug. It was intoxicating when he gave you those little spurts of validation throughout the day, making you want it even more. 

“ ‘Course sweetheart. Can you tell me what you were thinking about beforehand?” he asked sweetly, hand dipping down to push your knees apart, unfolding you like a present.

 “You.” His eyebrow raised. “What about me?” 

“Just, your cock. N’ just… filling me until I’m drooling.” you shyly confessed, covering your burning cheeks with your hands as he chuckled. 

“Awh baby. Isn't that so sweet? You want me to breed you yea?”

 “Soo much.”

 Peter flicked the toy on, the soft buzzing noise causing your toes to curl. “M gonna fill you up till your leaking out of that pretty little princess cunt angel. And then I’m gonna shove it right back in.” 

The sensation of the toy brushing your clit made you whimper, hips bucking as he teased you. 

“You gotta use it on your clit. Cause that's where it's most sensitive.” he cooed, faux pity dripping off each syllable as your eyes widened, moaning his name. 

Your hands slid down to shove him away, the sensation overbearing but he held you still. “S’too much!” you whimpered, causing him to smile even wider. 

“Oh but baby I still have so many things to teach you!”

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #the winter soldier #the winter solider #bucky barnes smut #james barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #james barnes x reader #james barnes #james barnes fanfiction #the winter solider fanfiction #the winter solider smut #peter parker spiderman #peter parker fanfic #peter parker #tasm smut #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter fanfiction #andrew!peter parker #andrew spiderman #andrew!peter smut #tasm!peter x reader #andrew!peter fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut

[whxre-bxby]

Masterlist ʕ•͡-•ʔ

┻━┻ ︵ ヽ(°□°ヽ) ᶠᴸᴵᴾ ᵀᴴᴵˢ ᵀᴬᴮᴸᴱ.

(╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻ ᶠᴸᴵᴾ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ᵀᴬᴮᴸᴱ.

┻━┻ ︵ ＼(0)／ ︵ ┻━┻ ᶠᴸᴵᴾ ᴬᴸᴸ ᵀᴴᴱ ᵀᴬᴮᴸᴱˢ

A/N: I write heavy smut :) and often a few violent scenes. The reader is always female here.

Fluff: marked with ♡

Smut: marked with ✩

Angst: marked with ◍

Call Of Duty

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

"Longing For You" Simon Riley x inexperienced f. reader♡✩◍

Marvel :

Multiple Characters:

Hired Stripper #1

Hired Stripper #2 ✩

Hired Stripper #3 ♡✩

Team's Slave ✩

Michael Morbius:

Morbius x reader ✩ ◍

Loki Laufeyson:

Loki x reader Pregnacy ♡

Loki x reader #1 ♡

Loki x reader #2 ✩ ◍

Peter Parker:

Peter x reader ♡✩

WWE :

Roman Reigns:

Daughter's Hot Friend ♡

Daughter's Hot Friend #2 ♡✩ ◍

Stranger Things:

Enzo:

Enzo (Dmitri Antonov) x reader ♡✩

Avatar/ATWOW (movie):

Miles Quaritch:

Miles Quaritch (Avatar) x (human f.) reader ♡✩◍

"I'll Hunt You Down" ✩◍

"I'll Take Care Of It" ♡

Forced Miles Quaritch Smut♡✩◍

Teaching Na'vi (short one-shot)

"Heartfelt Confessions"♡✩◍

"Forbidden But Desired"♡✩◍

Mansk:

Mansk's Characterisation

"Late Night Feels" ♡✩

"Special Appointment"♡✩

"Greeting Death With A Smile"◍

"Colourful Pills" ♡✩

(More futher down)

Lyle Wainfleet:

"Hopelessly Devoted To You"♡✩◍

Hate-fucking with Lyle ✩◍

(More further down)

Prager:

Hate-fucking with Prager♡✩◍

(More further down)

Brown:

"Maybe Blue Isn't So Bad" ♡✩◍

(More further down)

Multiple Characters: (RECOM'S)

"We'll Teach You Some Manners" (Quaritch, Mansk)◍

"We'll Teach You Some Manners" ◍

"We'll Teach You Some Manners"✩◍

"We'll Teach You Some Manners" ♡✩◍

Period Oneshots (Quaritch, Mansk, Lyle)♡

Meeting and Pregnancy headcanons (Quaritch, Mansk, Lyle)♡✩

1. "Colonel's Orders" (Quaritch, Mansk, Lyle)✩◍

2. "Colonel's Orders - Version 2.0" (Prager, Ja)♡✩

1. "This Is What You Came For"✩◍

2. "This is What You Came For" 2✩◍

"Devil's Bait"◍

"Cursed By Blue" (Mansk, Lyle, Quaritch)✩

"Cursed By Blue 2.0" (Prager, Ja)♡✩

"Cursed By Blue" 3.0 (Lopez, Brown)♡✩

"Sleep Won't Do It" (Quaritch, Lyle)♡✩◍

Vengeance Turns To Desire (Quaritch, Lyle, Mansk, Lopez, Ja, Prager)♡✩◍

Hatefucking (Brown and Ja)♡✩◍

Pecking Order♡✩◍

✨️1K Special Requests✨️:

Hate-Fucking with Mansk♡✩◍

"Can you take it?" (Lyle Wainfleet) ♡✩

"A Different Kind Of Warmth" (Mansk)♡✩◍

"Do It Our Way" (Recom Redemption) ◍

"Comfort Of Your Body"(Mansk) ♡✩◍

"Eywa's Will" (Lyle Wainfleet) ◍♡

Face-Sitting with Prager♡✩

"Insane Like Me" (Fike)◍♡

NSFW Drabbles/Headcanons

Artwork:

Shirtless Mansk

Miles Quaritch Smut Comic

Mansk Art for fanfiction "Special Appointment"

Lyle Wainfleet Fluff

Mansk Art (for fanfic „Greeting Death With A Smile“)

Mansk Headshot (smoking) Art

Late Night Talks (Neteyam) Art

NSFW Mansk Art

Recom's Funeral

ATWOW Memes:

Meme batch 1

Meme batch 2

Other :

Volodymyr Zelensky x reader ✩

(Austin Butler) Elvis Presley x reader ♡✩

#masterlist #smut #avatar #marvel smut #marvel imagines #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #avengers x y/n #avengers smut #wwe #wwe smut #austin elvis imagine #elvis 2022 #elvis smut #austin butler #austin elvis x reader #austin!elvis smut #austin butler smut #fluff #angst #avatar quaritch #avatar imagine #avatar smut #avatar movie #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 smut #recom smut #recom mansk

[weebsinstash]

I was wondering, would Mayday tell the difference between us the the YouTwo?? Cuz from the movie she looks very perceptive and smart enough, so I can’t help but wonder if she could tell when it’s us or YouTwo?

For example; we probably blow on her stomach to make her laugh whenever we greeted her. But YouTwo? She just holds her at arms length and looks at her like she’s a disease

And probably Peter B Parker would know it’s us or not??

I like the idea that certain people and especially the more animal-based Spiders can always kind of inherently tell who's who just by smell alone, but also, something I think I haven't utilized in many of my ideas yet is the Spidey Sense. You can lowkey just spidey vibe check someone and kind of tell or sense stuff about them? And like I dunno if I'm misinterpreting the scene but didn't Miles also have certain visions with some of his Spidey Sense episodes like in the first movie, he has visions of the spider being an alchemax spider just before he meets Blonde Peter, or, idk, he saw visuals with his Spidey Sense

Like sidebar but the whole, kind of vision thing, imagine you're extremely stressed and have you know maybe been doing some self harming stuff and Peter B sees you're going through it one day and, you're actually about to open up to him when you experience the Spidey vision/premonition of, you tell him and he immediately goes and tells Miguel, and you realize oh he's kind of a snitching bastard ain't he (but it's for your own good he promises he's just worried about you kiss kiss uncle Pete loves ya)

But no, I was maybe thinking, YouTwo pops up and Reader is going through their 'beginning a depressive episode' shit and you can tell YouTwo is new and freaked out and, well, it's real easy to see yourself in, well, yourself, and you're like "hey I know what it feels like to feel alone, maybe you could, hang out with this friend of mine, just this once" and you give some tips on how to act around them and, maybe the more you get depressed and feel useless, you actually let them take over more and more and it's when they have some decent "power" that they start actively replacing you and messing with you and trying to kick you out and get rid of you for real

Reader, who is also feeling aimless and depressed: hey other me, why don't you go hang out with this buddy Pavitr of mine, he has this healing energy--

YouTwo: *gets along well with Pavitr and he winds up inviting other friends of yours and YouTwo makes their own independent plans with all of them, basically assimilating deep into your entire friend group and giving themselves more opportunities to steal your friends and more people, and also these hangouts become later 'proof' aka "well im the real one and i can prove it, hey Pavitr remember when we--"*

Reader: hmmmm definitely don't like that!

But no just. Picture Peter B one day finds a little bruise on Mayday, maybe a few of them, and he noticed her temperament is a little different. He can just TELL something is wrong and so can her mother Mary Jane, and Peter thinks, well, there's really not many times she's even out of his sight, ALTHOUGH he DID let 'you' babysit a few times. And at first he wants to play it off, "oh you're just inexperienced with babies and Mayday can be a total handful, you probably just made a mistake" and 'you' even lie and say, maybe it was another kid or Spider animal who got to her when 'you' had barely turned your back

But Peter B gets a little tiny baby monitor/listening device gadget, like a little hard plastic keychain that looks innocent and is ultra durable, and he attaches it to Mayday anyways, just to find out definitively what's happening, and he's with Miguel one day making idle chit chat and they can just hear 'you' over the baby monitor, "why does he keep leaving you with me. I don't even like you, you nasty little monster" and Peter B is just sort of like. ":) haha I'm sure they're. They're joking. They're totally joking" and there's just a series of *yelp* "did you just fucking bite me? Little BITCH!" *Mayday cries out and starts bawling* "yeah you're lucky that's all you get, my parents used to do way worse to me--"

Cue Peter B and Miguel bursting into the room because both fathers are understandably ENRAGED because 1. Dude have 'you' been hurting Parker's literal actual baby and 2. This is not the person they thought it was. Oh SHIT is this not the right person they thought it was

Peter B eventually meets up with you, the real you again, because sometimes i imagine Reader just quietly moves to a normal part of Nueva York and you hand your Spidey life over to YouTwo, and youre understandably a little hateful and dont want to talk to him, but he kinda just, deposits his baby into your arms. Hes gonna baby test ya and see if youre the real one. Mayday just is totally relaxed in your arms, which are noticeably much more careful holding her than your double was because Peter B actually showed you how to hold a baby, and she also has a bandaid on her hand from scratching it against something and you're just like "oh no, you got a little boo boo 🥺 why does your DUMB DADDY keep bringing you around places you can get hurt" and Peter B is like "well ok I think that's a little uncalled for but this one is definitely the real one"

Peter B is then at the front of the Anti YouTwo lynchmob because "that fake HURT MY BABY, Miguel!" which of course wins over a bunch of other formerly skeptical Spiders. You think Jess would ever give YouTwo a second chance? Fuck that, she's not gonna trust some temperamental monster around her baby whenever it's born! Meanwhile Spider Cat who can't talk is over here like "yeah well why do you think I kept biting them, they're a fake 🙄 you see this bullshit, Spider Miette" "jail for faker, jail for faker for one thousand years--"

The Spider Society finally 'gets you back' all "and arent you so happy things can just go back to normal again :)" and you're like "uhhh no fuck you guys, I'll live here but only because you don't give me any other option, the only ones of you I still trust anymore are the animal Spiders, the little kids, Hobie the realest bitch in here who never doubted me, and the toys, isn't that right special edition neon funko pop Miles Morales"

One day after YouTwo has replaced you they get too comfortable thinking everyone is always never once going to question or doubt them anymore and some absolutely heinous shit comes out of their mouth and like they get the social equivalent of one of those Telltale or Fallout video game HUDS pop up, "EVERYONE disliked that" "Miguel will remember that" "social karma lost"

YouTwo, not realizing you did one last thing to fuck them over on the way out: oh hey it's that Hobie guy that's been gone for ages, the real me told me the special password to let him know I'm the real one was "blue lives matter"?

the second that shit comes out of YouTwo's mouth he instantly knows as well as literally anyone around who knows Hobie now knows that's the fake you. YouTwo gets some real life ass [YOU CANNOT FAST TRAVEL WHEN THERE ARE HOSTILES IN YOUR AREA] as Hobie and everyone else for that matter instantly goes into full "I can't kill you but I can beat your ass" mode

#yandere spiderverse #yandere stuff #sinprompts #yandere x reader

[blooming-violets]

For Inexperienced Smut Prompts

“I can’t believe you’re this innocent…”

With Andrew! Peter Parker x reader ❤️❤️❤️ !!!!!!

Not So Innocent || Inexperienced Smut Prompts

[tasm!Peter Parker x fem!virgin!reader]

Warnings: Alcohol use and depictions of being intoxicated, a lot of dry humping and fingering

A/N: I changed the quote just a tiny bit to “I didn’t know you were so innocent" because it fit better. Same vibes though.

You weren’t used to being dragged along to parties, especially one’s held in a large penthouse overlooking the city. The host of the party was a friend of a friend of a friend. At least, that’s what your roommate said. She desperately wanted to attend with her boyfriend but was too nervous to go without you. She promised to find you a date so you wouldn’t be third wheeling despite your claims that you’d rather not attend at all. Somehow she had managed to convince you to get dolled up in clothes that weren’t your own and make an appearance. You trailed behind her and her boyfriend as the three of you walked out onto the wrap around terrace. 

The night air was warm and the sounds of the heavy bass booming out of the speakers reverberated inside your heart. You couldn’t even make out what music was playing; it was too loud. You scrunched up your face in distaste, fidgeting with the bottom of the short skirt of your dress, and pushing your way next to your friend. 

“Is this really worth it?” You shouted over to her. 

She either couldn’t hear you over the noise or was choosing to ignore you, “Look! Over there!” 

She grabbed your hand and dragged you over to an elegant, glass table in the middle of the terrace. It was completely covered with different types of alcohol. You weren’t really educated well enough to be able to tell the difference between them all. She poured you something clear and shoved the cup into your hand. 

“Drink this!” She practically forced you to tilt the cup to your lips and held her hand under the bottom while you drained the contents. 

You were sputtering and gagging by the time it was finished, “That was horrible!”” 

“I know, it was pure vodka,” she laughed. “But it will get you loosened up.”

You felt like vomiting. She poured you something else. 

Her boyfriend leaned between the two of you to point over at someone. “Matty is over there. Why don’t you go talk to him?” 

You turned to see where he was pointing. Matt was the guy who was supposed to be your date tonight. He played college football with your roommate's boyfriend. You gave an unenthusiastic smile. That was supposed to be your cue to leave the two of them alone so they could enjoy their night as a couple. You weren’t sure what the point of your coming was. It wasn’t like your friend was planning on actually spending time with you. 

You reluctantly made your way over to Matt and gave him an awkward wave, “You’re Matt, right?” 

He nodded, “Yeah. My friend’s call me Matty, though.” 

“Great,” you replied. You weren’t a friend so you thought you’d stick with Matt. “Uhm, nice to meet you, I guess.” 

He looked you over, overtly eyeing up and down your body. You curled into yourself under his gaze and quickly started drinking whatever was in your cup. It tasted like bleach and lime. You did your very best not to make a face of disgust and keep drinking. 

“You’re supposed to be my date then?” He asked. 

“I guess,” you shuffled the toe of your foot against the ground. “Do you-”

He cut you off, “I was told you were really hot.” 

You laughed at that. It was a self deprecating, uncomfortable laugh. He was already heavily intoxicated, swaying on his feet. You wanted to go home. The forced smile faded from your face as you turned your sights to look out over the city. 

“Sorry to disappoint you,” you stated, feeling like shit. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him shrug, “Nah man. It’s cool. You’re still hot but, like, a prudish kind of hot. Like how the pastor’s daughter is always smokin’ hot but you know she’d never actually go down on you, so you don’t even try to bark up that tree, ‘cause it leads nowhere. Not really fuckable, ya feel me?” 

You didn’t feel him. You felt insulted for some reason. As if being called unfuckable by a drunk stranger was the worst thing you could ever be called. Matt was clearly looking for one thing tonight. He wanted someone easy. He took one look at you, uncomfortable in your roommates clothes, and could instantly tell you weren’t that kind of girl. She could dress you up but she couldn’t change your personality. You were self-conscious and fidgety. Even this dumb jock could see that. Before you could reply, Matt’s attention got pulled away by a group of giggling girls throwing heart eyes at him. He didn’t say a word as he stumbled away, already forgetting your entire existence. 

And, just like that, you were left alone at a party you didn’t want to be at. 

You finished the drink in your hand despite wanting to gag every time it touched your lips. You were already starting to feel the effects of the two drinks. You had never drank in your life so it didn’t take much to make you feel funny. Your skin sort of felt tingly and your thoughts were slow and lazy. Even though you were left on your own, you felt a sudden rush of happiness pushing away the shame. The music was starting to sound less terrible, too. It made you want to dance. You were beginning to feel invincible. Confident. Matty could go fuck himself. You were totally fuckable. You were hot. This dress was super sexy and slutty and short and you were an absolute babe with it on. You could do anything you wanted. You felt like if you stood up on these rooftop railings and jumped, you would simply sore away into the sky like a bird. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

A vaguely familiar voice popped up behind you before you had time to test your theory of flight. 

You turned around to come face to face with Peter Parker. He was your lab partner for biology. You two usually only ever spoke about class related topics but it was still nice to see a familiar face. You always found him to be very sweet. 

“I wouldn’t expect to see you here, either,” you responded with a big smile. 

Peter laughed, “I guess us nerds don’t usually get invited to rich people’s rooftop parties.” Once the words left his mouth, his eyes widened, afraid that he offended you. He quickly added, “Not that I think you don’t belong here! Or that you’re a nerd. You’re very pretty. Not that nerds can’t be attractive. That’s just a dumb stereotype. I think you’re really smart and you have a nice smile and you look really pretty tonight. Not that you don’t look pretty other days. And not that it matters what you look like. Or…well…I mean…I don’t remember what I was originally talking about…I think I’m drunk.”

The crimson blushing over his cheeks was incredibly endearing. You found yourself leaning in closer. You knew he was always handsome but, tonight, he looked beautiful. Radiant. Mesmerizing. 

You think you might be a little drunk, too. That first cup your friend made you chug was causing your thoughts to swim. The second cup only sealed the deal. 

“Thank you!” It was all that needed to be said. Also, because you sort of forgot what he was saying, too. You got distracted by the way his lips formed each word. They were lovely lips to look at. “I think…” 

His blush deepened and he hid behind the beer bottle in his hand as finished off the contents, “Do, uh, do you want to dance? With me, I mean. Or by yourself is fine too but I’d hope it was with me. That’s why I’m asking. For your hand. Not in marriage! To dance with.” 

You weren’t a dancer but you didn’t think Peter was either. That made you feel more confident in accepting his offer. 

“Okay,” you nodded, laughing at how he managed to out awkward you. 

He took the cup from your hands and put it onto the first table he saw along with his own empty beer. Then, he took your hand and pulled you inside, onto the dance floor that had been set up in the living room cleared of furniture. The feeling of your hand in his, the way he easily maneuvered you through the crowd, sent an excited, pulsating electricity shooting up your spine. Peter found a nice spot off to the edge of the crowd. There, you two could still enjoy the energy without being trampled on by all the sweaty bodies. 

An unspoken tension settled in the air between you and Peter. You were drawn to him. Captivated by him. You’d often spend the two hours of your lab huddled up close to his face while sharing a microscope but this felt different. Stronger. You couldn’t stop staring at the way his body moved. It might be the alcohol talking but he seemed to have a natural flow to his movements. You felt in sync with him. Your eyes shamelessly traveled down his body, much like Matt had done to you earlier. Only instead of feeling nervous like you had, Peter merely smirked, the smile flashing over his lips. Without his usual oversized sweatshirt, you could easily make out the strong muscles of his biceps as they pulled the sleeves of his t-shirt tight against his arms. You would have never guessed he was hiding those under there. 

You got lost in the music, loving it a million times more than when you first entered the party. You were moving, swaying, and bouncing along to the beat. Peter was right there with you like he was reading your mind, or reading your body, able to anticipate which way you were swaying and following your lead. The rest of the party faded around you as your eyes locked with Peter’s. It was just the two of you and the unfamiliar sensual tension clouding the air, growing thicker with each passing second. 

You were not a prude. You were not the preacher’s daughter. Matt could go fuck himself. He had no idea what you were like. All he did was take one look at you and thrust his own narrative on your shoulders. Yeah, maybe you were still a virgin, but you gave a guy a blow job. Once. In your senior year of high school. That qualifies you to be a part of a Non-Prude Club. Fucking Matty, that piece of shit. A big giant turd. That’s what he was. His brain had probably been hit one too many times during football anyway. You didn’t even think he was that attractive. Maybe he was the one who wasn’t fuckable? You bet he never thought of that!

Peter didn’t think you were a prude. He thought you were pretty and he wanted to dance with you. That means…well, it doesn’t mean much, but your vodka fueled brain was trying to connect some kind of dots together. Peter wanted to fuck you. That was probably it. Or maybe that was Matt who wanted to do that. Not Peter. You were getting them confused. 

No, no, Matt didn’t want to fuck you. Or he did but he didn’t think you would let him. 

And he was right. You wouldn’t have let him. He was kind of gross. 

But, Peter…

“Am I fuckable?”

His eyes widened, “Excuse me?”

“What?” Did you say that out loud? Shit. “I didn’t say anything!” 

His smile grew. He leaned down to speak directly into your ear, “Yes. You are.” 

Heat flooded your face. Holy shit. A nervous, intoxicated laugh tumbled from your lips. The song changed to a new track and your eyes lit up. 

“I know this one!” You excitedly bounced on the balls of your feet. 

“Everyone knows Britney Spears,” Peter laughed at your enthusiasm as I’m a Slave 4 U blasted out the speakers. 

Someone bumped into you from behind and sent you tumbling into Peter’s chest. He steadied you back onto your feet. Instead of moving away, you embraced the closeness, feeling bold, and wrapping your arms around his neck. His eyebrows raised, slightly taken off guard, but he quickly settled his hands comfortably around your waist. The electricity in the air heightened. You wanted Peter to touch you forever. There was not a single other person in this party except for him. You smiled up at him through hazy eyes. 

“I never drank alcohol before tonight,” you confessed. Something in his eyes felt safe, like you could tell him all your secrets and he wouldn’t tell another soul. He would keep you safe. A protector. “I don’t think I’m too drunk, though. I think I’m just happy. I could still totally drive a car.” 

That was a lie. You didn’t even have your license. It felt pointless when you grew up in the city. 

Peter chuckled. It was a nice sound. 

“I didn’t know you were so innocent,” he teased. “Never had a drop of anything before?”

You feigned a gasp at his comment, “I am not innocent! Why are people always assuming that about me tonight? What vibes am I giving off? My roommate told me these were some of her favorite slut clothes. Apparently they’re doing nothing to help my image.” 

“Oh, trust me, they are,” He nodded with appreciation for her tight fitting outfit. Then added, “You’re at a happy drunk level. Me too…but that might just be because you’re here with me.”

Your stomach tumbled with excited butterflies. With Britney Spears cheering you on, you pushed your body closer, brushing against his. As you swayed to her hypnotic beat, you purposely rubbed your hips into his. The moment you made contact, you felt his arousal. Solid and hard against you. 

You let out a tiny gasp, eyes widening in shock. You hadn’t been expecting that. That was because of you. You had given him that. You. Peter’s eyes had closed and his lips parted when you pushed against him. For a split second, it looked like he was going to let out a moan right there in front of everyone. His eyes shot open when he realized what was happening and a slew of slurred, bashful apologies tumbled out of him. Before he could get too embarrassed, you silenced him by repeating the movement. This time, locking eyes with him with a defiant stare, as you rubbed your pelvis over his erection as if you were daring him to stop you. 

You would show him you weren’t innocent. You would prove him wrong.

He licked his steadily drying lips and swallowed the lump in his throat. He was completely speechless, utterly in awe. This was a new side of you, one you hadn’t even known existed before tonight. A horny, needy side. It only took him until the chorus to snap out of his stunned daze. His hands traveled up your sides, curving around your waist, then traveling back down. He hovered over your butt, watching your reaction to see if you’d object. When all he got a quiet smirk urging him on, his large hands cupped your cheeks. You could feel your dress riding up your thighs as he squeezed you, bunching up the fabric. He pressed you closer, holding you tightly against his erection. You tightented your grip around his neck, smooshing your breasts against his chest, and feeling the flood of wetness rush to your core. 

I’m a slave for you. I cannot hold it, I cannot control it. I’m a slave for you. I won’t deny it, I’m not tryna hide it.

Britney was always right. You really were trying to have him dance up on you. You could not control it and you won’t deny it. Truer words had never been spoken. 

You felt weak. A good kind of weak. Like your knees might give out at any moment and your head was spinning but everything felt wonderful. A happy drunk. That’s what Peter had called it. Or a horny drunk. Maybe both. 

The more you held his gaze, the more attractive he became. You didn’t think that was possible but here you are. The flecks of sparkling light reflected off those beautiful hickory colored eyes. You were lost in them. Lost in his magnetic pull. His lips were centimeters from yours. He wanted to kiss you but he was letting you close the gap, giving you the choice. You took a shuddered breath and smashed your lips together. It might have been a little too eager and aggressive but Peter easily remedied your attack. He softened his lips and gently eased open your mouth with his tongue. The butterflies in your stomach turned to a frenzy at the feeling of his warm tongue gliding across yours. It reminded you of a dance. Much like your bodies were still pressed together and swaying to the music, your tongues were having their own party. 

When your breath became short, you carefully pulled yourself back with a dazed smile. 

Peter’s smile matched your own. The alcohol swam in vision, giving him adorable bleary eyes. He looked more relaxed than you had ever seen him. 

“Have you had your fill of dancing?” He asked once the song ended. 

You had forgotten you were even in a room full of people. You glanced around you, noticing Matt eyeing you from the other side of the room. He looked impressed, wondering if he had gotten the completely wrong impression of you. He raised his drink and winked in your direction as if to apologize for his own mistake. It made you giggle. You flipped him off with a smile. 

You turned back to Peter, the smile still lingering on your face. You were enjoying the tension between the two of you. You liked the dangerous excitement of rubbing up on Peter in the midst of a crowd. You were afraid of the moment ending if you left but your head was spinning and you needed some fresh air. 

“Let’s go back outside,” you offered. “The music is just as loud out there.”

Peter nodded in agreement. You had the feeling he would have gone anywhere you asked him to. He took your hand and tugged you towards the terrace. The entire glass wall opened up to make a seamless transition from the inside of the penthouse to the out. The night air felt cool in your throat. It helped soothe the pounding heartbeat in your chest. A coiled up excitement resided in the pit of your stomach from your adventures on the dancefloor. You wanted more. 

Peter pushed his way to the corner. It was the one place the lights failed to reach. It felt like a very purposeful spot to bring you. He turned around, leaning against the railing, and studying you with burning, passion filled eyes. His gazed forced your own downward, like he was a blazing fire, too bright and hot to stare at for too long. Except now you were now looking directly at what had been pressed against you. 

His dark, skinny jeans left little to the imagination. While the stiff material kept him from achieving his full potential, the bulging outline over his inner thigh was more than enough to get the idea of what he was working with. Truthfully, you had no idea what was considered large or small when it came to dicks. Like with alcohol, your knowledge was limited. But Peter looked quite big to you. He was clearly very excited to be in your presence. That was the nice thing about men. You could always tell when they were attracted to you. You were enjoying the power it made you feel. You felt sexy. Fuckable. 

You had been staring at it for too long. You needed to avert your eyes back to his face. 

When you finally forced your gaze back where it belonged, Peter was smirking at you. He had enjoyed watching you get lost in the sight. He liked knowing that his body was showing you how attractive he found you. He wanted you to know. It wasn’t a secret. Before you could allow yourself to be embarrassed, you twirled around, letting your skirt flare up around your thighs and started dancing again to the music. The perfect distraction. He caught you in his grasp, spinning you away from him, and then pulling you close. He was more suave than you gave him credit for. He might actually have some decent moves. 

You turned around in his hold, leaning your back against his chest. Peter’s arms naturally snaked around your waist to hold you to him. He tightened the hold so your bottom was rubbing once more against his bulge as you lazily swayed back and forth. Your dancing was more of a  gentle rubbing at this point but you didn’t mind. Whatever kept you locked to Peter was okay in your eyes. You wanted to keep him excited. 

His face leaned down, his cheek brushing against your hair, and you heard him inhale the scent of light, floral perfume. You could have sworn you felt his bulge twitch. You had to refrain from squeezing your own thighs together at the thought. Tingly, hot sensations were flooding your core. The need to thrust your hips or rub yourself on something was becoming stronger. 

You swore Peter could sense the subtle change in your breath because, as if he knew how aroused you were getting, his hands started to travel. They slid down your thighs until they reached the bottom of your dress, gliding the material through his fingers. 

“I’ve never seen you wear a dress like this before,” he breathed, voice ragged, in your ear. “I like it.” 

Your ears felt like they were burning, your chest was tight, your toes wanted to curl in your flats. All from the sound of his voice. Of course he had never seen you wear a dress like this. The only other time he saw you was in your early morning lab. He was used to your oversized cardigans, comfy leggings, and a permanent sleepy expression. 

His hand slipped under the loose hem of the dress. He hesitated, testing the waters to see if you’d say something, when no objects came he glided over your underwear to rest on your bare hips. The back of your skirt lifted with his wrists to expose the bottom cheeks of your butt. You could feel him lean back enough to get a quick look. He seemed to like what he saw because he almost immediately ground his hips against you. 

You couldn’t stop the gasping moan that fell from your lips. Your body felt alive. You could feel the jolt of electricity shoot from your nipples down to your clit. You pushed back, grinding your bottom into his erection. You had no idea what had gotten into you but you couldn’t stop. His obvious arousal only fueled your own spreading fire. 

Even your nipples were painfully erect. Your friend had assured you that this dress had a built in bra and you wouldn’t need to wear one. That was a load of bullshit because it was obvious how hard your nipples were poking out. Your breath was becoming labored. You were in the middle of a rooftop party, actively grinding on your lab partner, and drunk on whatever the hell energy Peter was giving off. It wasn’t even the alcohol that was making you act like this. It was all Peter Parker. 

You turned in his grasp, throwing your arms around his neck, and finding his lips. He fell back against the railing with your sudden enthusiasm. He managed to keep himself from falling and slid his leg between yours. Without even thinking about it, you rested your core against his thigh. The wetness seeping into your underwear was now blatantly evident to you. Give it a minute and Peter would surely become aware of it, too. 

His hands roved hungrily over your body without any more hesitation. You opened your mouth, letting in his tongue, as he fervently attacked your lips. You angled your hips downward and thrust them against his jeans. Your aching clit screamed in pleasure at the delicious friction. Peter was back under your skirt and cupping your bottom. He helped push you along, easing the aid of you grinding against his thigh. 

His mouth left yours to leave sloppy, wet kisses along your cheek and down your neck until he found a spot he liked. He suctioned his lips to a pulse point and began sucking and nipping at your soft skin. Your eyes rolled back, mouth parted, at how wonderful it felt. A mix of pain and pleasure. He was bruising your neck, claiming you as his own with a visible mark. You let him dominate you, manipulate you however he pleases. You were his. A slave for Peter Parker. 

When he slowly pulled back from your neck, a trail of saliva connected your skin to his bottom lip. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the corner of his lips tugging into a satisfied smile as he admired his work. It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen in your entire life. 

“Do you need a break?” He whispered, his voice hardly heard above the obnoxious techno music now playing. 

You swallowed. You probably should stop. You should probably slow down. You were getting too lost in your own feelings. But you shook your head “no”. You didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want to have to pull yourself away from him. 

“I told you,” you whispered back, resting your forehead against his. “I’m not innocent.” 

“Are you sure about that?” He asked, the amusement coating his voice. “If I dragged you into the nearest coat closet right now, what would you do?” 

You didn’t hesitate in your reply, lust dripping with every syllable, “I would let you touch me however you wanted.” 

That was it.

Peter shoved his way past any person who stood in his way. He lead you through the crowd, swerving and weaving between sweaty bodies. The penthouse was huge. The first door he opened was the bathroom but it left too much probability of someone potentially needing to use it. The next was a guest bedroom. That one was already taken. The three people inside of it weren’t too pleased to see two more show up unannounced. The third was nearest to the elevator. It was a narrow, walk-in closet filled with fancy coats and shoes. 

“Jackpot,” Peter muttered under his breath. 

He pushed you inside and shut the door behind him. It was decently sound proofed in here with all the jackets. The music instantly muffled into the distance. You tugged on a gold chain hanging from the ceiling to flick on a single bulb. It wasn’t much light but it was enough. You turned to face Peter, the spell from outside starting to crack as the nerves set in. You might not have been entirely truthful when you told him you’d let him touch you however he wanted. The thought of losing your virginity in a closet wasn’t exactly how you envisioned it. 

Peter’s smile softened when he caught the apprehensive glint in your eye. He reached out his hand and tugged you close to him as he leaned against the door, making sure no one could enter. He placed a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

“Remember when I told you were fuckable earlier?” He asked. 

You nodded. 

“Well,” he continued. “I didn’t mean to imply that you were nothing more than a quickie in a stranger’s closet. I hope it didn’t come off that way and that was the impression you got. This might have gotten a little out of hand. We might have gotten a bit carried away.” He took a step away from the door so you could leave if you wanted to. “If you want to go, it’s okay, I won’t stop you. I had enough fun tonight to last me a lifetime. Just being able to dance with you made my day.” 

You gave him a light shove, pushing him back in front of the door to act as a human lock, taking back control, “I never said anything about leaving.” You took a deep breath, being brave, and trying to advocate for exactly what you wanted from him. “What I said still stands. You can touch me however you want but just with your hands. Okay?” You trailed a finger down his forearm, grazing over his wrist, and locking fingers with him. “If you want to go, it’s okay, I won’t stop you.”  

His smile grew when you repeated his own sentiment back to him. To help build back up the same electric energy from outside, you pressed closer to him and grazed your breasts against his chest, letting him feel how erect your nipples were. He tenderly cupped your cheeks with his large hands and captured your lips with his.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time,” he mumbled against your lips. His kiss was slower than the other two like he was really savoring the moment. You felt special. Wanted. Beautiful and sexy all at the same time. The way he worshiped your lips made you feel like the only woman left in the world. Maybe you were. Maybe nothing existed outside of this closet. All that was left was you and Peter. 

“Mmph,” was all you could manage back. Very articulate. 

And, just like that, you were back under the Parker spell. 

His hands made a slow descent away from your cheeks. They traveled down your neck, pausing for his long fingers to gently wrap around it, making you feel small inside his grasp. They brushed over your shoulders, toying with the thin straps to your dress, inching them to the side until they fell down the slope of your arm. The back of his fingers traced over the swell of your breast, letting the hard nub of your nipple feel every bump as he dragged each of his four fingers slowly over it. He was taking his time, carefully watching your every move and listening for every hitch of your breath. He was treating you like a precious piece of art that was meant to be admired and painstakingly inspected under a magnifying glass so as not to miss any precious details. 

The pooling wetness between your thighs caused your soaked through underwear to cling uncomfortably to you. You wished you could remove them but still felt too nervous to make any moves and distract Peter from his work. You stood still as a statue, lids half closed, as he molded his hand to your breast. Your eyes gazed up at him, helpless under his touch, the sounds of your heavy breaths the only thing you were now able to hear. 

A quiet moan whined in your throat when he pinched your nipple through your dress, capturing it between the knuckles of his middle and pointer finger. He shuddered at the sound, giving a sharp inhale. He wanted to hear it again. His free hand wrapped around your thigh to close the miniscule gap between your hips. He thrust his hips forward, rubbing himself against you, as he molded your breast in his hand.

“Can-” he breathed. “Can I?” 

His fingers slipped into cups of your dress, starting to tug them down to imply what he was asking, and pausing to look to you for confirmation. You gave a silent nod. 

Peter nearly stopped breathing as he tugged the top half of your dress down to reveal your naked breasts. His eyes were alive with flames while he took in the new sights. He tenderly cupped under your breast, giving it a gentle squeeze, watching as your flesh melded to his touch. His mouth opened and closed a few times, like he was begging to capture your nipple between his lips, but he stuck to the “only hands” rule, using his thumb to flick over it instead. 

Your hardly audible moans hit his ear. The sound must have awoken something in him because he responded to it with a whimper of his own. You glanced down to his crotch. His erection was thicker than before. It looked painfully locked up behind the confines of his jeans. You wanted to unleash it, let it be free, but you were too scared to take that leap. 

Peter didn’t seem to care about what his cock was feeling. He was too focused on losing himself in your body. He was more of a giver and a taker, you could tell. His hand still gripping onto your hip started to get more daring. You felt him sliding closer to your core. His fingers traced over the elastic band of your underwear, circling around the tiny, ribbon bow adorning the top. If you had known this was how you would end up tonight, you would have bought something sexier. That concern immediately flew from your thoughts as his fingers slipped between your thighs. His palm rested over your mound while the pads of his finger tips traced along the drenched material. His ragged inhale was all you needed to know to understand how turned on that feeling made him. 

“You’re so wet,” he growled in your ear. 

“Mm,” you croaked out, eyes closed. Words were no longer something your brain had access to. 

You bit your bottom lip the harder he pressed your panties against your slit. The thin cotton material was the only thing holding him back from entering you. 

Peter lifted his other hand to brush under your chin. He lifted your head so you were forced to look up at him. You pried your eyes open, staring at him through heavy lids. Your mouth hung open to accommodate your panting breaths. He locked eyes with you, looking into your soul, as he slipped the wet fabric to the side. 

You gave a silent, wide eyed cry when his finger grazed over your bare slit. Your stomach seized, nearly doubling you over, in excitement. You felt your folds open to his touch. His leg resting between yours nudged your ankle, telling you to spread your legs open a little wider for him. You clutched onto the front of his shirt, grabbing a fistful of it into your grasp. Without it, you felt like you might collapse. The look of lust etched into his features caused you to nearly orgasm on the spot. Your body was trembling, craving more, nodding your head as if that would make Peter work faster instead of slowly dragging everything out at a crawling pace. 

He leaned down, whispering in your ear, “I’m going to make you cum for me.” 

That nearly did it. You whimpered, letting your eyes close again. Peter tugged your underwear down your legs. They stopped at your knees, the width at which you were standing not allowing them to go any further. It was enough. His hand cupped between your thighs, rubbing you, teasing you. You grind your hips, thrusting your clit against his palm. He gave a soft chuckle, enjoying how desperate you had become. 

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” he mumbled to himself. 

His long fingers moved gently on you, caressing your wetness, feeling how easily they slid through the slickness you were creating for him. All for him. He continued to simply feel you until you gazed back up at him. He was waiting for your eye contact. Your heart was pounding, waiting for the inevitable, and surrendering yourself over to him. The moment you locked on, he eased his middle finger between your parted lips while his thumb brushed slow circles around your clit. It was the first time a man’s finger had ever touched your sex. You felt the pressure, felt the fear, felt the excitement and the slight searing of pain at how tight you were. You whined as the pain and pleasure mixed to create an intense, swirling storm deep in your sex. Your pussy felt like it was sucking him in, trying to eat him whole, the deeper he sank into you. 

You clung to the front of his shirt, balled up fists, and tears spiking in your eyes. It felt so good. More intense than anything you’d ever felt. You’d touched yourself before but Peter was different. Better. You were sharing the moment, giving up control, and letting someone else learn the intimate details of your body. Your legs were shaking. Your knees felt weak. 

You buried your head into Peter’s neck as he started a steady, slow rhythm of easing his finger half way in and out of you. He focused most of his attention on servicing your throbbing clit. He could tell you were a virgin, he could tell how tight you were squeezing him, and he wanted to go as slow as possible so as not to hurt you. Even a single finger felt like it was filling you up. You were moaning against his neck, whimpering, whining, beginning for more. Your hips worked with each small thrust of his finger, trying to push it deeper. You thrust your clit against his thumb. Your body was taking over as you tumbled towards a climax. 

Peter’s lips were pressed against your ear. He whispered quiet words of encouragement, urging you on, praising you, comforting you. The night was all starting to meld together. The slutty dress, vodka, the obnoxiously loud music, how easily Matt rejected you with nothing more than a few words, finding Peter, dancing together, Britney Spears, the passionate terrace make out, the closet and how sweet Peter had been to quell your obvious fears, the way his finger felt so big inside of you. The entire night was swirling around your thoughts. A tornado building inside your brain. Ready to wipe out anything it touched. 

“That’s it,” Peter whispered over your pathetic whines. “There you go. Cum for me. You’re right there. Let it go. Let it happen.” 

You gave a sharp cry as light exploded in your vision. The tornado tore straight through you, ripping your mind from your body. You were floating in the air. High above everything else. You had no control of the way your body jerked and spasmed, held tightly against Peter’s chest. You’d never experienced an orgasm this powerful. It would have brought you straight to your knees had Peter not been holding you upright. 

He wrapped his arms around you, tracing his fingers over your back and up your neck. He soothed you with a quiet humming until your mind came crashing back down to earth. You were shaking, shivering, eyes glued closed. Peter was your one tether to cling on to. He kept you grounded as you let the tornado fade off into the distance. 

When you finally managed to get your bearings once more, you took a shaky step back from him. He kept his arms outstretched in case he needed to suddenly catch you if you decided to crumble. You shrugged the straps of your dress back up and adjusted the chest so your breasts were back to being concealed. 

Peter had given you a gift you didn’t even know you were looking for. You wanted to repay the favor but you didn’t think your body could handle anything more tonight. Instead, you slipped the underwear still clinging around your knees down to your ankles. You carefully stepped out of them. He watched in a silent curiosity as you closed the gap between you two, stuffing them into the pocket of his jeans. 

“To give you something to remember me by,” you stood on your tippy toes, planting a kiss on his cheek. A sweet, innocent kiss. 

He looked at you with an awe, loved filled gaze as you pushed open the closet door and stumbled into the hallway. 

When he didn’t follow, you glanced over your shoulder with a sly smirk, “Well? Are you coming?” 

#tasm x reader #peter parker x reader #tasm #the amazing spiderman #peter parker #tasm peter parker #tasm peter #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter smut #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker smut #andrew garfield #spiderman #tasm fic #peter parker fic #blooming violets #blooming violets fic #not so innocent

[writing-for-marvel]

For the Stardust Reblog Challenge: Summer Edition hosted by @liraketo

These are all the fics I've read in September. Please go show all these amazing writers some much deserved love! Also please remember to read the warnings for each individual fic

🔥 - smut | 💗 - fluff I 💧- angst | 😈 - dark

Dividers by @saradika

Bucky Barnes

💧 Time After Time (series) by @intrepidacious

🔥😈 Devour (series) by @buckets-and-trees

💧💗🔥 Secret Door (series) by @buckyownsmylife

😈🔥 A Stranger Arrives by @witchywithwhiskey

💗 Rained Out by @mindingmyownbusiness

💧💗 Blood Sweat and Tears by @treatbuckywkisses

🔥 Dirty Little Secret by @vellicore

💗 Don’t Tell Bucky by @lives-in-midgard

💗 Hypothetically Speaking by @littleseasiren

🔥 Distracted by @sunshinebuckybarnes

💗 Screen Lesson by @vilentia

💗 Post apocalyptic Bucky by @fluffyprettykitty

💧💗🔥 Replace Me by @fandoms-writings

💗🔥 Hold Me Down by @flordeamatista

🔥 Impure Thoughts Part One | Part Two by @samodivaa

💗 Imagine calling Bucky while he’s at work by @imamotherfuckingstar-lord

Steve Rogers

💗 Tall and Two Sugars by @sarahghetti

💗 The Moment He Knew by @/sunshinebuckybarnes

💧 imagine Steve’s anger when you go off book during a mission by @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction

💧💗 He Comes Back by @imtryingbuck

💧💗 Handsome Stranger by @/lives-in-midgard

🔥 Can’t Wait That Long by @worksby-d

Sam Wilson

🔥 Touch Me by @galatially

💗 Contentment by @/fluffyprettykitty

💧💗 Don’t Tell My Boyfriend, It’s Not What He’s Made For by @wwilsonbarness

🔥💗 Dancing’s When I Think of You by @targaryenvampireslayer

💗 You and I Were Fireworks by @feelmyskinonyourskin

💧💗 Desperately Seeking Sam by @onceuponastory

Joaquin Torres

🔥 Inexperienced Joaquin by @/fluffyprettykitty

💗 Mixup by @blackbat05

Peter Parker

💧💗 Shaken (Not Stirred) by @cocoamoonmalfoy

Joel Miller

💗 Dancin’ in the Dark by @jobean12-blog

💗 Fall In Love by @/jobean12-blog

💗 Late Night Movie by @holacia3

💗 Date Night by @/holacia3

Multiple Characters

💧💗 Sleep Deprivation by @brandycranby [Steve Rogers, Andy Barber, Curtis Everett, Ari Levinson, Jake Jensen & Ransom Drysdale]

💧💗 Romance Tropes with Marvel Characters by @angelltheninth [Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Thor Odinson, Loki Laufeyson, Tony Stark, Kate Bishop, Peter Parker]

#fic rec #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers fanfic #Sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #Sam wilson fanfic #Joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #Peter Parker #Peter Parker x reader #Joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic

[fangswbenefits]

Sweet Girl

Summary: Miguel isn’t all that excited about you joining spider society, so why and how does he enter a spiral of maddening obsession?

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

Miguel POV. Obsessed Miguel. Soft/inexperienced reader. Pining.

This is more an of an introduction to my current series Frustration. You don’t have to read the first 3 parts to enjoy this.

Miguel crossed his arms as he stood on the lowered platform.

He was waiting.

And he hated being kept waiting.

Tense minutes went by until a swirling flash of light tore through the space continuum right in front of him.

Jessica Drew stepped out first, followed closely by Peter B. Parker.

And you.

You seemed so out of it, that Miguel wondered how a spider person could have been this badly affected by a mere dimensional travel.

As you tumbled out of the portal, you immediately lurched forward. “Oh, I’m going to be sick.”

Without further warning, you emptied the content of your stomach onto the floor.

Amazing.

Arching an eyebrow, he glared at Jess who was patting your back reassuringly.

“It’s her first time, Miguel,” she frowned lightly, helping you straighten up.

Peter offered you a tissue. “Oh, I remember my first time. My intestines were not the same for a week, and I do-”

Miguel immediately cut him off, not at all interested in hearing about Peter Parker’s bowl movements. “Welcome to Nueva York,” he stepped out of the platform, extending his hand to you. “I’m Miguel O’Hara.”

You cleared your throat and shook his hand. “So… you’re the boss.”

“I’m the boss.”

Miguel saw your eyes scanning him him up and down, widening slightly. “You’re… big.”

Peter snorted and Jessica chuckled.

But he could only roll his eyes. “You’ll eventually get used to your portal jumps.”

You scanned the room with curious eyes. “That portal really needs stabilisation,” you then mumbled, adjusting your suit. “The motion sickness…”

He scoffed. “You’re a spider-woman. I’m sure you can manage motion sickness.”

“Well… it’s not the same as swinging around in your web,” you retorted with a light shrug.

Jessica patted your shoulder. “That’s why we recruited you. Your intel might be able to helps us with some of these… instabilities.”

You immediately smiled brightly. “Oh, sure! I can’t wait to get started. This place looks so cool.”

Miguel groaned inwardly. Amateurs.

He had scanned your file thoroughly and had been against your recruitment initially, but Jess had brought up valid points in your favour, despite the fact that you had only been bitten less than six months ago.

Inexperienced and ambitious.

These two hardly ever worked together, but your vast knowledge in tech compounds had made him give Jess the benefit of the doubt.

“Follow me. I’ll have to draw blood to run some tests and Lyla here will fill you in later on other procedures.”

The hologram popped in obnoxiously by your shoulder. “If he asks nicely, that is.”

Your mouth dropped open in absolute bewilderment. “Woah! AI? That is really, really awesome!”

“Thank you, pumpkin,” she grinned with a wink.

Miguel paced through the long halled that stretched out towards Lab 1, with you following close by, as Peter and Jess flanked you.

From the corner of his eye, he saw you glaring out of the tall windows, completely transfixed by the the countless skyscrapers that sprawled out as far as the eye could see.

“You built this?” your voice echoed in sheer wonder.

“Yes.”

“All of this?”

“Miguel is really gifted with technology,” Peter chimed in proudly.

“Woah…”

That tingled his ego nicely.

As the four of you walked inside the lab, the surrounding spiders at work glanced over, voicing their greetings.

“Take a seat.”

You immediately did as he said with Jessica standing next to you, hand on your shoulder.

Miguel put his gloves on and readied the material for the blood testing.

“Give me your arm.”

“So you’re a tech guy…” you started, and he gripped your forearm, rolled the sleeve of your suit up with fingers probing for a vein. “What else?”

“A geneticist.”

“Nice! So you’re like a two for one type of deal?”

Once he found what he was looking for, he aligned the tube with your skin. “This will sting a bit.”

Before you could reply, you let out a gasp at the sudden intrusion.

“And you work at the lab, too?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?” Miguel said, waiting for the tube to fill in.

You nodded with a warm smile. “I just like to know what I’m getting myself into.”

You had no idea, but Miguel was testing you, trying to gather as much of your personality as he could. He enjoyed piecing people together like puzzles. It stroked his sense of control.

“I thought Jessica had briefed you.”

“I did,” she immediately said.

“Yet you’re the one drawing my blood,” you chirped happily, your eyes fixed on his.

Well, maybe you had an idea.

Miguel felt the corner of his lips turn into a faint smile.

Good.

He needed perceptive people around.

He pulled away from from you slightly and pressed a cotton pad to the small puncture.

Sliding open one of the drawers nearby, he grabbed a watch, never letting go of your arm.

“This is a dimensional travel watch,” he explain, snapping it snugly around your wrist. “Keep it with you at all times.”

He let go of you and you seized the moment to inspect it closer, fascination never leaving your face.

“Let me guess… you also built this,” you said with a chuckle, pressing on the screen a few times.

He reached out his hand to stop you. “This is not a toy. Lyla will inform you on how to properly use it.”

You nodded firmly.

“Welcome to spider society.”

It didn’t take long for Miguel to start walking in on you sleeping in the lab.

For the fourth time.

He was all too familiar with the riveting excitement that came with scientific progress that often led to many sleepless nights.

But he still couldn’t allow this to keep happening.

Halting a few inches away from you, he took a moment to access the situation: you sat hunched over the lab table, head resting on folded arms and a string of drool dangling from the corner of your mouth.

A heavy sigh parted his lips.

He tapped his foot once on the leg of your chair, causing you to jolt upright with a yelp, nearly falling back from the loss of balance as the chair swayed dangerously.

But Miguel was fast enough to prevent that by steadying you with a firm grip on your shoulder. You then leaned forward, panting and clutching at your chest.

“Good morning.”

You turned your head to stare at him, deep bags under your eyes and sleep lines covering your face. “Miguel! Oh — hi! I’m… oh my… that was such a scare!”

His crimson eyes narrowed slightly. “It’s the fourth time this week.”

Trying to regain some composure, you straightened your clothes and wiped the string of drool trailing down your chin with the back of your hand.

“Right. I was… uh…” you paused abruptly and looked around, as if momentarily disoriented. “Oh. Yeah! I am — was working on running some diagnostics and must have dozed off waiting for the results… and-”

He clicked his tongue and spun your chair around, effectively silencing you, his eyes boring into yours. “This isn’t going to happen again. You need to rest.”

You swallowed. “I was resting…”

Miguel didn’t have neither the patience nor the time for this.

“You need proper rest,” he pressed on with a scowl. “Jessica scouted you for a reason, and if you’re too sleep-deprived to work, you’re of no use to us.”

You broke eye contact with him, lowering your head. “I’m sorry…”

The sincerity in your voice took him slightly aback, and he relaxed his face, wondering if he had perhaps been too harsh.

You were chewing on your lip, staring down at your entwined hands.

He had no idea why, but his heart skipped a beat.

Probably stress.

“Look,” he tried again, softer this time. “I know what it’s like to want more. To do more. I’ve been there,” he then crouched, so he could eye-level with you. “But you can’t keep pushing yourself like this. We have time to figure this out.”

You looked to the side, hesitating at first. “I… was talking to other spiders and some mentioned they feel the side effects of motion sickness if they use the portal more than twice a day,” you went on with newfound confidence, gripping the pad on the table and lighting up the screen. “I’m close to getting the chips to work and ther-”

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stop. Stop.”

You did.

“What part of me saying you need to sleep didn’t you understand?”

“I don’t mind sacrificing a few nights of sleep if it means I can help other spiders,” you said, a flash of defiance crossing your eyes. “Seriously, Miguel. I need to get this done… I need it.”

Miguel’s strictness shattered.

He then saw a reflection of himself staring right at him.

So much of your determination and persistence reminded him of his early days as a scientist. The struggle, the hunger for results, the need to achieve something that could help so many…

“I know you’re looking out for me,” you went on, placing one hand on his shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze. “And I’m grateful, but science and progress don’t wait. I know I can be helpful, so let me.”

For the first time in a very long time, Miguel O’Hara was left speechless.

“Please don’t fire me,” you laughed nervously.

He blinked a couple of times and stared down at his watch.

6:14AM

“You can come back in twelve hours.”

Your eyes widened in sheer excitement, lips parting into a wide smile.

He quicky lifted one finger. “If you try to sneak in, I’ll know.”

Your smile faltered, as he saw right through your intentions.

“And I’ll have you sent back to your dimension faster than you can say Nueva York. Got it?”

You lifted one hand in a salute and nodded.

He scowled. “And… stop hanging around Hobie.”

Dropping your hand, you bolted forward from your chair to hug him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

The sudden motion nearly caused him to topple over and you immediately let go of him, as he rose to his full height again.

“Oh! Sorry!” you stepped away, patting his arm apologetically.

He blinked.

Then, grabbing your pad, you began tapping rapidly. “I’m uploading all the data to your watch, so please take a look.”

He blinked again.

You gathered your backpack and threw him a final warm smile. “If you find anything important, please let me know!”

Miguel nodded curtly, but remained rooted in place, as you hurried across the lab and past the sliding door.

His heart skipped a beat for the second time that day.

Then it dawned on him: the last person who had hugged him had been Gabriella.

Miguel should probably call himself a hypocrite.

He was heavily against you or any other spider dozing off in the lab, but he had been indulging in this quite often as of late.

By the time he rose from his slumber, and sat back on his padded chair, he realised something soft had been placed around his shoulders.

He tugged on it and was met with a blanket covered in tiny prints of Peter B. Parker’s face.

This was definitely Mayday’s.

“What…” he drawled out, blinking a few times to adjust his eyes to the brightness that poured in from the windows.

The clock on the wall marked nine in the morning.

He stared down at his desk to find a handwritten note next to a plate of… empanadas?

“Hi~

wanted to wake you up, but you were sleeping so soundly and I didn’t want to disturb you. I found Mayday’s blankie on my lab desk — I suspect Hobie is sneaking her around to pull a prank on me hehe xOx

P.S. Jess told me you like empanadas, so I tried making some for you. Hope you like them~ (I’m crossing my fingers)

P.S. 2 You need proper rest :)”

You.

It had been you.

He glared at the plate containing the pastries, and grabbed one.

His heightened senses allowed him to immediately get flooded with an overwhelming delicious smell.

Taking a bite, he fluttered his eyes shut, allowing the overwhelming combination of flavours to take over.

It tasted so, so good.

It tasted like home.

He rose to his feet and walked out, scanning the lab for traces of you.

But he was met with Jessica instead who had just walked in.

“Oh, you look terrible.”

He swallowed what was left in his mouth. “Thanks.”

Her gaze dropped to your hand. “Oh! Did she make those for you?”

“Uh… yes.”

He felt ridiculous for having mumbled it like that.

The two of them paced along the corridors and into Lab 2, where you were sitting, back turned to them, visibly engrossed in your tasks.

“How’s she been doing?”

He took another bite. “Good. She’s persistent and focused. Those are good traits to have in this field.”

“She reminds me of yourself.”

Miguel wasn’t surprised in the slightest, because it was an undeniable fact.

“Hopefully, she won’t make the same mistakes I did.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll make some along the way,” she shrugged casually. “And she’ll learn from them, as you did.”

Miguel kept his gaze fixed on you and felt a strange need arise in him.

To look after you.

He took the last bite and savoured it in silence, as Jessica eyed him curiously.

“She really is a sweet girl,” she ended up saying lovingly. “She asked me what your comfort food was.”

Sweet girl.

He let the name replay in his head, and determined he liked the sound of it. It was fitting.

“Go on. Say it.”

Miguel arched an eyebrow at this. “Say what?”

Jess threw him a smug look. “That I was right for recruiting her. That you were wrong.”

In truth, Miguel hated having to admit to his mistakes, and it wasn’t even related to his ego or inability to take criticism.

As he had come to learn the hard way, his mistakes would usually lead to catastrophic consequences.

But when it came to you, he had no problem admitting he had been in the wrong. You had proved to be quite capable of handling a multitude of tasks.

… and now you were starting to grow on him.

“Yes. You were right, Jessica,” he mumbled, his eyes fixed on you. “She really is… something.”

She patted his back a few times. “Are you turning into a softie, Miguel?”

He scowled. “No.”

“Go ahead and thank her, then,” she said with a smile.

Miguel didn’t like being told what to do. He had every intention of letting you know he was grateful for your efforts.

But it had to be in his own way.

He parted ways with Jess and mad his way to you.

“Hey.”

You turned in your chair, bearing that kind smile he had grown so accustomed to. “Hi! You’re awake.”

“Cearly,” he grumbled with a shrug.

“Did you like the empanadas?”

He nodded. “They tasted amazing. Thank you.”

Like home.

“Great!” you beamed, your smile never wavering. “You looked really adorable while sleeping. Sorry for not waking you up.”

Adorable…?

He felt a lump form in his throat. Your energy was contagious, and he considered embracing it.

But he didn’t want to cave in…

He was a stubborn man by nature.

But he also didn’t want you to think he was too cold and distant like many in Nueva York thought.

“I want to show you something,” he said, tapping on his watch.

You waited expectantly and the screen in front of your flickered momentarily before a video started playing.

File: Gabriella.006

He didn’t even bother staring at the screen. He already knew by heart its content, and he didn’t want to revist the pain today.

No.

His eyes were fixed on you, instead.

He knew Lyla had already mentioned the event that led to him deciding to protect the multiverse.

He knew you knew of Gabriella.

Of what he had done.

Your smile dropped as the video went on, even though the sound of giggles and splashing water echoed around you.

“I’m not showing you this for you to feel bad for me.”

You shook your head, parting your eyes from the screen. “That didn’t even cross my mind.”

He paused the video.

“Right.”

Your eyes held kindness and your voice became softer. “I know why you’re showing this to me.”

He highly doubted it, but he waited for you to go on.

“We take care of each other here,” you began, twirling your chair to fully face bim. “And that means being open to showing vulnerabilities.”

He remained silent, digesting your words.

“Am I wrong?”

Partially, but he wouldn’t tell you that. The justification he had settled for in his head didn’t come close to your own.

And his heart skipped a beat.

He grown used to it happening whenever around you, but this time it felt more alarming.

More urgent.

“Miguel?”

You were eyeing him with concern, your hand reaching out to touch his arm.

He snapped out of his thoughts, and took a step back. “Send me the files you were working on yesterday. I need to check the coding.”

You gave him a nod, and he saw understanding soften your expression. He had expected you to press him on for an answer, but he was grateful you hadn’t.

“Oh, and… thank you, again. For… you know…” he drawled out as he ran a hand through his hair.

“You got it, Miguel,” you said, smiling sweetly.

Sweet girl.

His sweet girl.

It took Miguel one week to start dreaming about you.

At first, it would be a conglomerate of nonsensical blobs with your face or voice here and there. But as days went by, some began to take shape.

Your shape.

Nowadays, it would be your face and voice that would keep him company after tiring missions.

He had gotten quite fond of it.

Until things took a turn.

And he would wake up with a throbbing ache in between his legs, begging for relief.

That was when he knew he was letting his admiration for you get the best of him.

As he rose from his bed and walked to the tall window in his bedroom, he saw the sun lighting up the horizon line, bathing Nueva York in rays of orange and yellow.

He had built all of this in the hopes of a better future.

But now he started longing for one that had you in it somehow.

As a fellow spider.

A fellow scientist.

A friend, even.

He squinted as his sensitive eyes became increasingly sore from the intense light, so he moved to his bedside table and grabbed the peace of paper you had left him days ago.

Your handwriting mirrored your personality: graceful and captivating.

Maybe he should have tossed it away, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

Walking into his living room, he booted up the screens on the wall.

There was this crescendo inside him that urged him to look for you.

He tapped through various sections of the lan, but he found you near the refrigeration area, tapping on your chin with a pencil, as you glared at the screens in front of you.

He wanted to call you.

To hear your voice first thing in the morning.

To commend you for being up so early already and committing to your duties.

Suddenly, he saw your lips turn into a soft knowing smile, and he knew you must have figured something out.

Of course you had.

Your perception and tenacity were unmatched.

As much as he wanted to talk to you, he decided against it.

In his mind, he was too undeserving of anything more than a friendship with you.

He convinced himself that he was not good enough, and that he was meant to watch you from afar.

You were just like a flame. Too close and it burns. Too far away and it freezes.

He grazed his thumb across the screen, close to you.

His sweet, sweet girl.

It would be better off this way. Not for him, of course. He was already in too deep. But it would be better for you.

You deserved better.

But he still craved you.

Miguel recognised the feeling that was started to seep into his heart and mind. He had almost forgotten how suffocating that felt.

He couldn’t tear his eyes from your face.

He couldn’t tear his heart from your hold.

The level of despair was unmistakable and he knew exactly what this feeling was.

Frustration.

Next part (if you can’t access it, click here)

Masterlist

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

[late-to-the-party-81]

New starts happen all the time

AN: Here I am, still clearing out my outstanding requests, and it's been a minute since I wrote some Starker

Anonymous asked: Peter Parker sleeps with tony and makes the mistake of wearing his boyfriends favorite boyband t-shirt to school. Request

Now, I know this is probably not the story you thought you were going to get with this prompt, but the muse does what it does. I hope you all enjoy anyway. I now know more about Engineering classes at MIT than I ever thought I would know. Also, no massive age gaps here, only about 3-4 years.

Unbeta'd, so apologies for typos and rogue comma's.

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden.

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Join my tag list here

Master list

Summary: MIT is still a big adjustment, even when you are gifted, and bullies still exist, so it’s a good job Peter falls at Tony’s feet.

Relationship:  College Peter Parker x College Tony Stark

Word Count: 6.4k

CW: College AU, No Powers, Strangers to friends, Friends to lovers, developing relationship, Gay Peter Parker, Pansexual Tony Stark, insecure Peter Parker, inexperienced Peter Parker, Supportive Tony Stark, Confident Tony Stark, Fluff, Angst, Bullying, name calling, attempted Sexual Assault, Background Rhodey/Maria, BAMF Maria Hill, Justin Hammer is a douche, Explicit Sexual content (oral sex, mutual masturbation).

“Watch it, nerd!” 

Peter tried to right himself as he bounced off the shoulder of whoever had just shouted at him. He had hoped that once he’d swapped Midtown High for the hallowed halls of MIT that he wouldn’t have to deal with this sort of thing any more. However it appeared that college, even one where technically every student was a nerd or a geek, was still slave to the various cliques and sub-groups. The jocks were definitely those who majored in Astronautics, and those who studied Business Analytics liked to look down on everyone else, assured of the fact that their degrees would lead to higher paying jobs than someone doing a lowly science or engineering degree.

He readjusted the pile of books in his arms as he tried to work out if he was going the right way. Two weeks into his Freshman year and he still hadn’t gotten the layout of campus straight in his head. It didn’t help that he’d decided to Double Major in both Electrical and Mechanical Engineering, so always seemed to be coming and going.

And now he was late for his next class.

He hiked his backpack higher on his shoulder and started to jog towards his destination. However, the infamous Parker luck was once again on his side, or not, as the case may be, and suddenly he found himself tripping over a stone, or maybe it was even his own feet, and crashing to the ground.

For a few moments, Peter lay dazed, the taste of gritty dirt and the tang of iron in his mouth.

“Hey, kid,” a voice called out, “are you alright?”

Peter pushed himself up with a groan and shook his head to try and clear it. 

“Be careful,” the voice said, closer than it was a moment ago, and suddenly there were a pair of hands gripping his upper arms, easing him into a sitting position. He blinked a couple of times, the way the sunlight was falling onto his face making him wince, but then the light was blocked out by a body and Peter gasped.

Back in highschool he had wondered why he wasn’t really interested in girls the way the other boys were. It had taken him a while to realise that he was gay, and once he’d made that revelation, he wondered why it had taken him so long to work it out. He supposed that it was all down to a hetero-normative society and all that.

However, if he were still in any doubt, the sight of the man before him and the way he was affecting Peter’s equilibrium - although maybe that was from his fall - was enough to bring his own understanding of his sexuality into crystalline focus.

“I hope you haven’t got a concussion, kid. But you do have a nasty cut on your lip.”

The guy was speaking but all Peter could focus on was his features, his tousled brown hair, thick eyebrows, equally dark eyes, perfectly straight nose and pouty pink lips.

“Here, have some water.”

As a water bottle was pressed to his lips, the pressure against the cut he’d apparently sustained jerked Peter back to reality. He took hold of the bottle with shaking hands and gulped down a few mouthfuls, eager to remove the horrible taste from his mouth.

“Umm, thanks,” he stammered out and tried to pass the bottle back to his erstwhile rescuer.

“Keep it. You might want it later, and to be honest, it has your blood on it, and while I’m kinky, I’m not that kinky.”

At the strangers words, Peter felt himself blush, because firstly, he was currently a vanilla as they came - mainly due to circumstance than anything else - and secondly, it conjured all sorts of images to his mind that he should not be having about someone he just met, regardless of how attractive they were.

“Thanks. Again.” Jeez, Parker. Way to show off your vocabulary.

“No problem, kid. Where’re you heading to in such a hurry?”

Horror swept over Peter’s face and he leapt to his feet, although he wobbled a bit.

“Shit, I’m gonna be late to Professor Hart’s class on Systems Design.” He desperately tried to pick up all of his books, but as soon as he bent over the world started to spin. He’d have fallen again if it hadn’t been for the stranger taking hold of him again.

“Hey, be careful,” he cautioned, before steering Peter over to a bench. “Let me.” 

Peter watched as the other man collected all of his scattered belongings, trying not to stare at the way his ass filled out his jeans as he bent over. When he returned with all of Peter’s books stacked in his arms and Peter’s backpack over his shoulder, Peter looked away, worried about being caught staring. Some guys got weird about other guys looking at them, and Peter didn’t have enough experience to have a working gaydar yet.

“Come on then, let’s get you there.”

Confusion wrinkled Peter’s brow. “What do you mean? Get me where?”

His rescuer smiled at him. “Your class. I’m going the same way.”

“Oh. Umm, okay. Thanks.” Maybe it was head trauma that was affecting his ability to speak with any eloquence?

Peter stood up, and winced as he moved his left knee, actually glad that his hopefully new friend was carrying his stuff for him.

“I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Parker.”

“Tony,” the other man replied. “Tony Stark.”

It turned out that not only was Tony a fellow student, but being a Senior he was also a TA. Like Peter he was also a double major, taking Electrical Engineering as well, but had paired it with Biological Engineering. Therefore, with Tony assisting in some of the EE classes, Peter started to see him fairly often.

“You did well today, kid.” Peter willed himself not to blush at the praise as Tony clapped him on the shoulder as they left the Introductions to Algorithms class. 

“Thanks, Tony. Once I’d got my head around the paradigm shift it wasn’t too bad. Thanks for help with that.”

The pair of them walked together towards one of the coffeeshops and Tony playfully judged his shoulder against Peter’s.

“No problem. Anything for a pretty face.”

Peter had also learnt a couple of other things about Tony over the last few weeks. Firstly, due to a combination of his outgoing, charismatic nature and the fact that he - or rather his father - was loaded, Tony was one of the most popular people on campus. People were always stopping him to say hi, and Tony generally had a friendly word for all of them.

Secondly, Tony was into heavy metal. Like really into it. He was always wearing a t-shirt plastered with the picture of one band or another; AD/DC, Black Sabbath, Pantera etcetera, often humming a tune under his breath when he was concentrating.

Thirdly, he was a massive flirt who’s love language was definitely physical affection. The first time that Peter had met Tony’s best friend and roommate, James Rhodes, Tony had been walking arm in arm with him, and when they’d stopped so James could peel off towards his Military Sciences class, Tony had given him a smacking kiss on the cheek. When Peter had tentatively asked if James was Tony’s boyfriend, the brash senior had just laughed. 

“Nah. Rhodey’s as straight as a flag pole, more’s the pity. Why, you vying for the position?” He’d thrown Peter a theatrical wink and chuckled as Peter had gone bright pink. From then on he seemed to make it his mission to make Peter blush as much as possible, which didn’t help with Peter’s promise to himself to not think about Tony ‘that way’.

However, by and large, Tony had become his best friend. Sure, as the weeks passed Peter had gotten to know others in his classes and was building himself a circle of peers that he got on well with, but it wasn’t the same. He knew that he was infatuated by Tony, but who wouldn’t be. He was handsome, clever and popular, and Peter loved basking in his radiance. It also didn’t hurt that when he was hanging around with Tony other students were less likely to pick on him. Unfortunately he couldn’t spend all his time with the older boy, and was therefore still subjected to the kind of taunts he’d thought he’d left behind. At least no-one was trying to shove him in a locker.

The fall semester progressed, the leaves turning brown and dropping to the ground, and before Peter knew it he was visiting home for Thanksgiving weekend. While it was nice to catch up with his Aunt May and his old school friends, Ned and MJ, he found himself waiting to go back for those last few weeks before Winter Break. He also couldn’t hold back his blush when Aunt May questioned him about whether he’d met anyone special. It was true that he had, but it wasn’t like that between him and Tony, no matter how much Peter liked to fantasise about it. He and Tony were friends and, yes, the older boy liked to flirt with him, but that was who Tony was, he told himself. It didn’t mean anything, even if Tony didn't discriminate about who he liked . So Peter had lied and said he hadn’t, and if May didn’t believe him - which from the pointed look she gave him she most certainly didn’t - she was good enough not to raise the subject again.

Returning to campus on the other side of the long weekend, Peter made his way straight over to see Tony.

“Hey kid, good to see ya. Have a fun time with la familia?” Tony opened the door with a broad smile and gestured for Peter to make himself at home on the ratty couch.

Peter grinned at Tony’s jovial tone and threw himself down on the saggy brown cushions.

“Yeah. It was okay. Nice to catch up with my aunt and my friends, but I’m back and ready to work hard all the way up to Winter Break.”

Tony sat down next to him, clutching a bottle of beer by its neck. 

“Well as long as you don’t work so hard you’re too tired to come to my Christmas party.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “You’re inviting me?” he squeaked. “But I’m just me and you’re you.”

“Yes,” said Tony, “but you’re my friend and I want you there. No if’s, no but’s - unless it’s that cute butt of yours.” He pointed down at Peter’s backside and chuckled at the flush that appeared on his neck and cheeks. “You make it far too easy, Petey. I might really start to think you’ve got a crush on me.”

Somehow, Peter managed to regain his composure and continued to chat to Tony about Thanksgiving and the plans for the upcoming party until he realised it was time he ought to head back to his dorm. As he excused himself, and made his way to the door, Tony pulled him into a big hug. 

“Can’t wait to see you at the party, kid.” He held onto Peter for what felt like a few moments too long, although Peter wasn’t going to complain. It felt nice to be held in someone’s arms, especially when they belonged to Tony. He gave his friend a shy smile.

“Can’t wait to be there. I’ll see you in class later in the week.”

Three weeks later, Peter jogged up the steps to Tony’s home, glad that his friend was holding his party somewhere he was familiar with. They’d seen a bit of each other over the last few weeks, but Peter had been busy making sure he was up to date on all his coursework, so that he could have a relaxed Winter Break. It was frustrating that he hadn’t gotten to hang out with Tony as much as he’d wanted, but it hadn’t stopped him from dreaming - and maybe other stuff - about the other boy, though. 

He was nervous, though, and took a moment to smooth down his black t-shirt that he’d casually paired with some skinny jeans and a leather jacket. This was going to be the first big party he’d attended since starting at MIT, and he didn’t know that many of Tony’s friends aside from Rhodey. Also, the chances were that some of the attendees would be folk that didn’t view Peter as ‘popular’ material, despite Tony’s apparent endorsement of him. That guess was proved correct almost as soon as Peter had made it through the door, almost bumping right into Justin Hammer, who, like Rhodey, was majoring in Military Science.

“Oh, god.” Justin sneered. “Why doesn’t it surprise me that you’re here. Parker. You’re like a bad smell we can’t get rid of.” He threw back his head and guffawed loudly, his cronies laughing along with him. With his cheeks burning, but not wanting to make a scene, Peter ducked his head and moved further into the apartment, searching for Tony. He found him, predictably, in the kitchen. Equally predictably he was wearing one of his band shirts - a black one proclaiming his love of the band Black Sabbath. 

Tony’s response to Peter’s arrival was the complete opposite to Justin’s. “Petey!” he cried, flinging his arms in the air, before pulling Peter into a crushing hug and planting a kiss on Peter’s cheek, dangerously near the corner of his mouth. “You made it!”

Keeping one arm firmly around Peter’s shoulder, Tony steered him over to where Rhodey and some other close friends were standing. “Let me introduce you to the gang.” Tony’s friends smiled as Peter was introduced to them, before turning back to their own conversations. Most were Seniors, like Tony and Rhodey, but one or two were Juniors.

“And this,” said Tony, “is Maria, the harlot who’s stolen my Platypus from me.” He clasped his hand dramatically over his heart and Peter giggled. The tall, brunette woman standing next to Rhodey rolled her eyes and then punched Tony in the arm.

“Can it, Stark,” she bit back, jokingly. “You still get to see him on weekends and holidays.” She then turned to Peter and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Parker. Thanks for keeping Tony occupied so Jim and I can have some time together without being interrupted.” Tony had the good grace to look a little embarrassed at her comment and Peter laughed again.

“No problem. For some reason I actually like him.”

Now it was Tony’s turn for the faux outrage. “Hey! I’m eminently lovable, I’ll have you all know.”

Rhodey clapped him on the shoulder. “We know, bud. We know. Now if you’ll excuse us, they’re playing our song.” He led Maria through the throngs of people towards the area that had been designated as the dance floor, all the while Tony looking on with his over the top pout.

Peter nudged him. “You’re happy for him really, aren’t you?”

“Oh definitely,” Tony agreed. “She’ll be good for him, and she also seems to be able to put up with me, so that’s good. Not that many people can.”

“I do,” Peter said vehemently. “And surely all the people here do as well.”

A small frown appeared on Tony’s face. “They put up with my money for the most part. I can probably count the number of true friends I have on less than two hands.” He looked at Peter, something in his expression morphing, and Peter found himself unable to look away. “I’m glad you’re one of them though, Peter.”

Tony lifted his hand, and for a moment it seemed to Peter as though his friend was going to brush his riotous curls away from his face, but then someone near them bumped against Tony and the moment was lost.

“Come on, kid. Let’s go mingle.” 

Tony picked up a beer, and just gave Peter an understanding nod when he grabbed a soda for himself. Peter was glad that Tony wasn’t judging him or pressuring him to drink, given the fact that most of the other people at the party were, whether they were twenty-one or not.

They moved among the guests, Peter feeling like a sail boat being pulled along in the wake of a trawler. When Tony stopped to talk to someone, Peter hovered by his elbow, feeling a little awkward, but at the same time there was nowhere he’d rather be than basking in Tony’s radiance. He was like the sun, and Peter was the moon, absorbing what light he could, and reflecting back the rest to those around him. Peter wasn’t totally dependent on Tony, though. There were a few people there that he did know, and he took the opportunity to chat with them, and hopefully build up a bigger pool of friends. He was still at the beginning of his course. He’d be here for a few more years yet, and Tony, being a Senior, would finish at the end of this year and then who knows? It made Peter’s heart ache just to think about it.

It was inevitable that they’d get separated, but Peter wasn’t too worried. The apartment wasn’t that big and it wasn’t as though Tony was planning to leave his own home while the party was still in swing. It did mean, however, that there was more likelihood of Peter bumping into some he didn’t want to, like…

“Justin! I’m so sorry.” Peter rebounded off the other Senior’s arm with a loud exclamation and watched in horror as his soda sloshed out of the neck of the bottle and over the, no doubt, expensive fabric of Justin’s shirt.

“Parker! You dumb fuck!” Justin shouted back, slurring slightly, as he shook his arm to rid himself of some of the excess liquid. “I can’t even fathom why Stark lets someone like you hang on his coattails.” He peered at Peter, observing through the lens of his beer-goggles and Peter felt a shiver go down his spine as Justin’s expression turned into a leer. He took a step forward and Peter took an echoing one back. “Although,” he drawled, looking up and down Peter’s body, “I suppose that despite your stupidity you have other things going for you. Maybe you can make up for ruining my shirt? I’m sure Stark won’t mind sharing. You look like you could suck a dick well at least.” He stepped even closer, his cronies following at his back, caging Peter in. With how crowded it was, and the noise level, no-one would really be able to see him. Justin put his hand on Peter’s shoulder and pushed down, trying to get the younger boy down on his knees. “Come on - show me why Stark puts up with you.”

At the insinuation, Peter snapped.

With a shout he pushed up and back, shoving Justin away from him with all his strength and sent him staggering back into his friends. “Get off me!” he shouted, despite the fact his voice wouldn’t carry far. It was enough that a few people around them were starting to notice something was wrong. However, Justin’s pride, along with the amount of beer he’d drunk, made him decide to double down instead of quietly withdraw.

“You little shit. You should be thanking me for even paying you any notice.” He lunged forward, face red with anger and fisted his hand into Peter’s hair, making the younger man screw up his eyes and shout out in pain.

“Let. Go. Of. Him.” The menacing command came from behind Justin and he immediately complied, whirling around to look at the owner of the voice. Peter opened his eyes, overjoyed to see Tony there, but the feeling was muted by a deep embarrassment. Everyone was staring at them.

Tony walked right up into Justin’s space, but didn’t raise either his hands or his voice.

“Get out. You and your little crew. You’re not welcome here.”

Justin shook his head as if clearing it and stepped away from Tony with a small shrug.

“Whatever, man. The company isn’t as good as I thought it would be.” He started to walk towards the door, his friends a few steps ahead of him when he stopped and turned, unable to leave without having the last word. “Can’t believe you’re getting so bent out of shape over a rent-boy.”

Tony’s hands balled into fists and he stepped forward, a dangerous glint in his eye and Peter drew in a sharp breath, convinced that a fight was about to break out. However, Tony was stopped in his tracks as Maria clamped her hand down on his shoulder.

“It’s not worth it,” she hissed. “You know the Dean isn’t your biggest fan.” Tony seemed to be listening, because his shoulders slumped, the fight almost instantly draining from him.

“Pathetic,” Justin bit out. “I don’t know what everyone…”

His drunken tirade was cut off as Maria stepped forward and launched a perfect right jab at Justin’s nose, making his head snap back and causing red to bloom across his face. A couple of his friends caught him as he toppled toward the ground, but Maria was already walking back to Tony.

“I thought you said it wasn’t worth it?” Tony queried.

Maria shrugged as she shook out her hand. “The Dean likes me. And you really think Hammer is gonna complain that he got punched by a girl?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Justin’s friends giving each other sideways glances before the decided discretion was the better part of valour and shuffled out of the door, holding up a dazed Justin between them. His attention was then caught by Rhodey, who appeared at Maria’s side, eyes sparkling. “Damn, baby! I have never been more attracted to you than I am right now.” Maria grinned back, cupped Rhodey’s face and started to make out with him.

Tony held up his hands. “Okay, okay. You two - get a room. Everyone else - back to partying now the trash has been removed. Petey-pie? You’re with me. I need to make sure you’re okay.”

Tony placed his hand on Peter’s shoulder to try and steer him, but he was feeling too keyed up - too embarrassed - so he shrugged it off. If Tony took umbrage at the gesture he didn’t show it, and instead just led the way to one of the only parts of the apartment Peter had never seen. Tony’s bedroom. 

Peter was gnawing on his lower lip, too busy going over everything that Justin had said to really take in where he was, or that he was now sitting on Tony’s bed.

Is that what everyone thought, he wondered. That Tony only let Peter hang around because they were fucking? The thought was conflicting, because, yes, he would love to be fucking Tony, he couldn’t deny that, but he also knew that his worth as a person was not tied to who he was sleeping with - he and Tony had a real friendship and it pained him that others couldn’t just accept that.

Almost as though Tony could read his thoughts, or at least partly, Peter was brought back to the here and now when Tony crouched down in front of him and took hold of his hands. Tony peered up at him with sympathy filled eyes and his thumbs rubbed soothingly over the back of Peter’s knuckles. Or rather Peter assumed it was supposed to be soothing. However, it wasn’t having the intended effect because despite Tony’s affectionate nature he had never actually held Peter’s hands before. Which therefore meant that Peter was concentrating more on how it felt to really have Tony’s hands on him, than on calming down from his ordeal.

“Are you okay, kid? I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

However, still full of frustration and hopped up on adrenaline, Peter shook Tony’s hands off and stood up in agitation

“Don’t call me that, Tony,” he practically shouted. “I’m not a kid, I’m eighteen.”

Tony raised his hands in supplication. “Noted. No more ‘kid’.”

However Peter wasn’t really listening, and was working off his energy by pacing up and down in front of Tony.

“Do you know what Justin was saying? Did you hear him? He thinks that you’re only friends with me because I let you fuck me.”

“And that would be bad,” Tony asked, tentatively, although Peter didn’t pick up on his tone. “If people think we’re fucking?”

“That’s not the point, Tony. It’s not about sex, it’s about the assumption that the only benefit to you is ass on tap, and the benefit to me is second-hand popularity.”

“Why would anyone with half a brain think that? And who cares what other people think, as long as we know the truth? You’re fun and brilliant, and you put up with me prattling on all the time. Like I am now. I should shut up. But before I do, can I just check. Would it, you know, be so bad, if we were?”

Finally, Peter picked up something questioning - unsure - in Tony’s voice and stopped moving.

“If we were what?” he asked, head cocked to the side.

“Umm, fucking. Shit! I mean…” Tony blew out a breath and looked up at the ceiling for a moment before continuing. “I really like you, Peter. Like ‘like you’ like you. Have done since we first met, in fact. I found myself hoping you’d fall at my feet figuratively, not just literally.”

Peter blinked, trying to process what Tony was saying, even as his verbal stream of consciousness continued.

“And I’ve just decided to do a Masters, so I’m going to be around past the end of this year, so I wondered if you’d like to be more than my friend, not that I don’t value your friendship. Quite the opposite in fact. I’ve been trying to let you know how I feel, but because I can be quite unsubtle I was trying to dial it back, so maybe I went too far the other way. But I got the feeling that you like me as well, and was hoping you’d be my boyfriend. And there doesn’t actually have to be sex. I don’t wanna presume that that’s something you want or are ready for… and fuck, I’m still rambling.”

Peter snapped back to reality and stepped forward, taking Tony’s hands in his, this time.

“Tony,” he interjected, a sudden boost of confidence taking him over.

“What?” Tony’s eyes were wide, like he was caught in the headlights of a semi.

“Shut up and kiss me.” Peter leaned in closer and pressed his lips to Tony’s. 

For a moment Tony didn’t react, but then suddenly he was kissing Peter back and Peter was mentally punching the air in celebration. He’d been worrying so much that his crush on Tony would be unwanted, that somehow he’d failed to pick up on Tony’s signals. They’d probably talk and laugh about that later, but for now, Peter had singular focus.

He let go of Tony’s hands, so he could wrap his arms around Tony’s waist and pull him closer. At the same time he opened his mouth and teased the seam of Tony’s lips with his tongue. Tony’s hands came up to tangle in Peter’s hair as he accepted Peter’s deeping of their kiss. 

It was only as his legs hit the edge of Tony’s bed that Peter realised they’d been moving, and had no idea which one of them had instigated it, but he smiled and chuckled into Tony’s mouth as they tumbled down onto it. Two pairs of lips and two pairs of hands roamed everywhere they could easily get, Tony pushing Peter’s jacket from his shoulders, and after a minute Peter broke away to pull his t-shirt over his head.

“God, Petey,” Tony exclaimed. “You’re so beautiful.” Then he pulled his own shirt off and surged back to capture Peter’s lips again. 

Through all the kisses and the touching, both of them managed to shed their jeans, until only two thin layers of cotton separated them. Tony scraped his teeth over one of Peter’s pectorals, including his small, dark nipple, and Peter arched up with a gasp. Tony moved lower, kissing and nipping, until his face was nuzzling into the soft fabric between Peter’s hip and rigid cock.

“Can I, baby? I wanna make you feel good.”

Just the thought made Peter feel overwhelmed and he fisted the sheets as he whined.

“Y-Yeah. Oh, god.”

Tony pulled down Peter’s tight boxer-briefs and let out a sigh at the sight that greeted him. “I knew your cock would be just as pretty,” he said as he gently stroked over the soft skin with his index finger. Peter shuddered under the touch, so turned on that he was worried he was going to embarrass himself. 

“I’m gonna kiss you now, and you just do what feels good, okay?” Tony soothed, and Peter just bit his lower lip and nodded.

The first touch of Tony’s lips on the shaft of his cock, mouthing up the vein that ran from root to tip, had Peter groaning wantonly. He wasn’t totally inexperienced, but there was no mistaking the fact that Tony had more skill than any of - admittedly few - previous lovers. When Tony flicked his tongue over Peter’s slit, lapping up the pre-cum that had gathered there, Peter thought he was going to fly into orbit and gripped the sheets with such ferocity he was convinced he was going to rip them. Tony carefully explored the head of Peter’s cock with his tongue, circling around the spongy tip and the underside of his ridge, tracing over his circumcision scar, and Peter? Peter whimpered.

“Shh, shh, baby. It’s okay. Just relax.” Tony’s words were whispered against the length of him, breath hot on his skin. 

And then Tony finally took him into the warm cavern of his mouth.  He must have been expecting it, because he didn’t make a move when Peter’s hips bucked at the sensation, his cock pushing deeper into Tony’s mouth. He let Peter get over his initial reaction before placing his hands carefully on Peter’s slim hips and starting to bob up and down. Peter could feel the way the flat of Tony’s tongue pressed against the underside of him and when he glanced down to actually look at what was going on he had to really fight the urge to just come, because Tony had swallowed all of him, that perfect, straight nose pressed right into the thatch of dark curls at the base of Peter’s cock.

“Fuck! Tony! Feels - feels amazing. Shit!”

Tony popped off and smirked up at him. “Such a potty mouth,” he quipped before taking Peter back in with a hum.

Peter suddenly found his left hand tangled in Tony’s hair, not really holding him in place, but more he just feeling him. It was getting harder and harder to hold back from coming, and while it would be bliss to spill himself into Tony’s mouth he didn’t want that for their first time together.

“Tony,” he whined and gave Tony’s hair a gentle tug, trying to communicate what he wanted with actions, given his brain didn’t want to let his mouth really work. Luckily for him Tony seemed to get the message and with obvious reluctance let Peter’s cock, wet and flushed pink, fall from his mouth as he slid his way up Peter’s body.

“What is it, Petey? What do you want?” Peter was sure he’d have had a better time answering if Tony hadn’t been nuzzling kissing his neck, but somehow he managed.

“Wanna feel you. Wanna feel us. Against each other.”

Tony lifted his head and smiled softly. “I got you, sweetcheeks. You just reach into that top drawer and get the lube and I’ll deal with these pesky underpants.” 

Peter twisted at the waist, reaching up and to the side to pull open the drawer of the small wooden table and moved his hand around inside it until his fingers closed around a familiar feeling bottle. As he did that, he felt Tony pull his boxer-briefs, that had been tangled half way down around his knees, fully off. He turned his head back just in time to see Tony discard his own, and kneel by his side.

He was gay. Absolutely. Wow! He didn’t even realise he was reaching out until Tony chuckled.

“You wanna touch? Go ahead, baby. I’m all yours.”

Peter curled his fingers around Tony’s cock, immediately obsessed with the weight and feel of it in his hand. The way Tony’s eyes closed and his body shuddered as Peter lazily jerked him gave him a heady rush of power. On another occasion he’d love to just do this - touch Tony oh-so-softly - and see how long Tony would be able to hold out. However, his patience wouldn’t run to that now, so he urged Tony down to lie beside him. Peter squirted a healthy dollop of lube into his palm and slicked himself up, before doing the same to Tony.  Then, lining his hips up to Tony’s, Peter wrapped his hand around the pair of them, pressing their cocks together. 

For a moment, Peter couldn’t keep his eyes open, needing to block out one sense in order to deal with the overwhelming feeling of another, but when he did raise his eyelids again it was to find Tony looking back at him, brown eyes made even darker by lust. Tony leaned forward to capture Peter’s mouth for another ferocious kiss and then placed his own hand over Peter’s, helping him to jerk them both off.

The sounds of their sighs and moans, alongside the schlick-schlick of their cocks moving together, filled the room and Peter found himself rolling his hips, pressing up further and harder against Tony. He imagined what it would be like to do more with Tony, how they could discover those little things that made the other stutter and lose control. He wanted to know the taste and feel of Tony’s cock on his tongue. Maybe even the feel of it inside him, or even the other way around, if that was something Tony wanted. The possibilities seemed endless, and this was just the beginning.

However, having been on the edge longer than Tony, it was inevitable that Peter would come first. Sensing that his younger lover was close, Tony stopped moving their hands and just let Peter rut up against his cock within the circle of their joined fingers. Peter spilled his cries into Tony’s mouth at the same time he spilled his cum over the pair of them. It just felt so fucking good, and his hips kept moving until the sensations in his cock morphed into the sting of over-stimulation.

Moving Tony’s hand away, Peter let his softening cock fall away, and then tightened his own solo grip over Tony’s still hard cock, going back to jerking it, his own cum adding to the wet mess easing his way.

“Fuck! That’s it, baby. Just like that.” Peter watched with hooded eyes as Tony rambled and twitched within his grasp, head thrown back. “Gonna come, Petey. Gonna come. Feels so good. Yes! Yes!”

A feeling of immense satisfaction washed through Peter as Tony reached his peak and pulsed into his hand, and for the next few moments the pair of them lay next to each other, panting and coming down from their highs. 

Peter opened eyes, feeling Tony’s gaze on him, and found him grinning. Then Tony was kissing him playfully and they both started to giggle. Peter twined his clean hand with Tony’s as they smiled and kissed, his heart feeling so light, he hoped he’d never lose this feeling.

“Please tell me you can stay tonight,” Tony asked, and despite his usual brashness, Peter could hear the note of insecurity in his voice. He let go of Tony’s hand so could brush a lock of dark brown hair from Tony’s forehead. 

“I can stay. Don’t wanna be anywhere else. But I might have to leave early. I’ve still got some last things I need to do before I go home, and I have a feeling that you might prove a distraction.”

“Why would you think that,” Tony joked as he leant forward and took Peter’s lower lip between his teeth, pulling on it gently. “I can’t fault you for your dedication.” Tony eased away and got off the bed, walking across to his en-suite, confident in his nakedness, before looking coyly over his shoulder. “Coming for a shower?”

Peter had never moved so fast in his life.

When Peter blinked open his eyes the next morning, he was surprised to find it was well after 9am. Luckily, with it being Saturday he didn’t have any classes, but he hadn’t been lying to Tony about having some things he needed to sort out before the start of Winter Break. And the sooner he started them, the sooner they’d be finished and he could dedicate his remaining time to Tony before they had a two week period where they wouldn’t see each other.

He eased himself out from under the deadweight of Tony’s arm and climbed out of the bed. He tried to be as quiet as possible as he used the bathroom and when he came back out he was happy to see that Tony was still deeply asleep. After allowing himself a moment to observe Tony relaxed - and quiet - in sleep, Peter dressed as quickly as he could given he had to dig around Tony’s floor for his clothes. He had no idea when the party had actually wound down last night - he and Tony never had resurfaced, so he assumed Rhodey and Maria had taken over the hosting duties.

Peter dropped a gentle kiss to Tony’s temple, his heart flipping in his chest at the sleepy nose scrunch that crossed Tony’s face at the sensation, and then crept from the room and then out of the apartment which still showed all the evidence of the previous night’s party activities.

It was almost ten am by then, so as Peter crossed campus he could see a few other folk out and about, although most of them looked hung-over, or at least sleep deprived like him. However, after passing by the first few people, he realised that he was receiving a lot of stares. Worried that he was sporting a giant hickey, he stopped in front of one of the glass fronted buildings, intending to inspect his neck in the muted reflection, but when he saw himself he gasped, before starting to laugh out loud. A cowled skull stared back at him. It seemed that in his haste to get dressed he’d picked up Tony’s Black Sabbath shirt and not his own, plain black one.

If people had thought he and Tony were fucking before, there would be no doubt that anyone who knew the pair of them and saw this, would think anything else. The Peter of yesterday would have been appalled, but the Peter of today? Well he had taken Tony’s words of last night to heart - how much did the opinions of others really matter when it was no-one’s business but theirs?

With a smile on his face Peter squared his shoulders and walked back to his dorm, plotting about how he could steal another of Tony’s shirts.

Tag list: @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @doasyoudesireandlive, @marvelstarker-mha98

#starker #tony stark x peter parker #college au #late writes

[backupanddoitagain]

Incandescent

Image credit: @mondlevan

Summary: A short poem with some thoughts during your evening date with Peter Parker.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Implied reference to death

A/N: A short poem that came to mind while musing about TASM!Peter Parker. The significance of time fascinates me, and I couldn't resist the adjacency of the tradition of stopping the clocks when someone passes away and how we refer to 'stopping time' so that we may savor moments while we live. But as Gwen Stacy said, 'what makes life valuable is that it doesn't last forever.'

If you enjoy, please REBLOG. Please do not repost on other platforms, etc.

Incandescent

The night is young and so are we. The onset of fragility.

For when the stars come out to play, our eyes will meet but cannot say:

Will you stay until dark's gone? Will you linger til the dawn?

So little time have you to give. Stop the clock, I want to live.

No more hours here and there. No more chimes disturb the air.

In the silence forget the past. Live for the now, make it last.

Close your eyes to skies above, close your eyes and cherish love.

Additional exhaustive A/N below:

Forgive me for I'm not a poet, not even a lit major, but wth right?

As mentioned above, time and our perception of it is fascinating. At least to me. So is the subject of communication, both verbal and nonverbal. The piece above explores a date with Peter Parker in which neither is comfortable speaking their fears.

Relationships are as fragile as life itself and we frequently approach each other tentatively, especially in the early stages. Even when young and (somewhat) inexperienced, our life experiences have already shaped us into who we are in that moment with more to come in the future. So the Reader is asking a question (what now?), one that Peter himself may be asking as well. Each expresses themselves nonverbally with their eyes. Stars and eyes are frequently paired with couples. They have stars in their eyes or star-crossed lovers for two examples. The poem's title comes from the very *definition of the word incandescent: emitting visible light as a result of being heated. The contrast between light and dark, stars and space, and warmth (living) and death (cold) has been explored countless times in the arts and I won't be the last to dabble with it here.

The Reader knows that Peter's time is limited for a variety of reasons (the conflict of his dual roles, obligations, danger, etc) but also because everyone has a finite amount of time from birth to death and we know not how long that will be (life is fragile from the start). Peter gives Reader what time he can but is it enough? Reader knows this and doesn't want the reminder--the constant ticking of the seconds, the chiming of the hour--that time is passing.

Some viewers of the TASM franchise may have found the time symbolism in the movies too obvious, but I thought that it didn't hurt (me, the viewer) to have a reminder. Slowing down time to cherish others may the best we can hope for in lieu of stopping time, but when we take that time and hold onto it, it becomes ours forever in the form of memories, memories that are frozen in time.

*American Heritage Dictionary (5th ed). There are several definitions of the word, incandescent, and I selected one.

#tasm #peter parker #amazing spider-man #peter parker poetry #tasm fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter parker

[lxinesux]

Monachopsis

Ships: Vampire!Reader x TASM!Peter Parker, Vampire!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: After getting access to your memories, Wanda is forced to relive them. She remembers the night you fell in love with Peter.

Content: Second person POV, Fingering (r receiving), voyeurism, masturbation, cunnilingus (r and w receiving, mild),frottage (w and r receiving, mild),creampie, Jealous!Wanda, Inexperienced!Peter

Warnings: Death, Slight dubcon, Derealization, depersonalization,Blood, Mentions of skin being bitten,ripped, bruised.Internalized homophobia/biphobia.Mild emetophobia warning.

a/n: Soo, some context. This is set in Victorian times in between fics that may or may not be written lol. The memory she’s living through is a flashback that takes place before Pietro is made into a snack. Anyway: here’s porn!!

The memory attacks her just as she was laying her head down for her nightly rest. 

It was one of the many you fed her during your…entanglement. She hadn’t wanted to name it. To make it real. 

But the pulse between her legs was real. 

Her new master, Peter Parker. And you, the murderer. 

He was easy to seduce. You’d known he wanted you. All of that sweet, tender courting you'd been ‘oblivious’ to. Humans were fickle. He was nothing but a day old fruit fly. Humans, you thought, could never feel love. Not true, deep, everlasting love. 

No, Peter just wanted one thing from you. And you had no obligation to your family to adhere to the silly societal tradition. No fear from the church or God. 

You wanted it too. So you would let him have it. He needn’t work so hard to gain what you would’ve given freely had he asked. 

There was no motive when you stepped into the library besides this. Full as a tick from your hunt, you were hungry from something else. 

You'd had many lovers in your bed, between your legs. Women, men. Some you used for sustenance after and some you left alone with not but your scent on their skin. It had been too long since you’d had company. Besides, Peter was the only one who had piqued your interest this much. 

He tried to keep measured, cool headed, even keeled. But he was a human man. You kept kissing, kept touching. Urging his mouth open with your insistent tongue, encouraging his wandering hands. His lust tipped him completely into oblivion. 

She can see all of it in full detail. Every feeling, every molecule. It was as though she’d lived it; in her own mind she had. When you’d opened her mind, she’d fallen into yours. Now, she must cope with these visions as they come. 

Your back against the wooden bench in his library. Your long, soft, pale legs open for him, his hands moving up your thighs in quiet reverence. You chuckle. Where, you ask yourself, was this composure when he was manhandling you and sucking your tongue just moments earlier? 

Your cunt is glistening, wet and warm. Your core should not be so sinfully decadent, but is that not the trap you lay for your victims? You reach down to touch, your fingers dipping between your folds, running along them before circling your clit. 

His eyes follow every movement. Bewitched. Even with the love before you, he’d never seen something so lewd. 

Neither had Wanda.

You slid a finger into yourself, then another, your thumb not stopping what your fingers had started. She can feel your pleasure slowly building. You aren’t full enough, just testing your own body’s restraint. 

She closes her eyes tight. She can barely breathe. 

She reaches down, under her bed dress. Her pussy is soaked. She mimics your movements. The strange feeling it brings runs parallel to yours. 

Of course you knew how to pleasure yourself. It turns her stomach to realize you were trying to show him how. 

Peter-Master Parker-he didn’t know how to fuck you properly. You wanted to teach him. You would teach him. But she didn’t need teaching. She had /seen/ you. 

You moan. It’s like a siren call. She whimpers, her juices dripping down her thighs at the noise. His cock is aching through his trousers and you’re so amused. You take pity on him, unbuttoning his pants and sliding your small hand to wrap around him.

His pre-smeared erection arouses you more. It repulses her. The only comfort she gets is the wet sounds as your fingers move faster inside yourself. He hisses and moves closer between your legs. 

“I was correct, wasn’t I, Doctor? It’s been so long, hasn’t it? I’ll take care of you…” 

She doesn’t have a prick like Master Parker. but her hands would do-her fingers. Her fingers were smaller and could find that place in your cunnie faster. She could make you cum again and again, the way she knew you’d liked it with the house maidens you’d had in Milan. 

The idea of her own fingers inside of you makes her keen. Her own cunt tightens around nothing. 

You spread yourself open, urging him to do more than just look. 

“Put your hand inside me,” You tell him. 

“Christ,” He says. 

She could fill you up, better than he could.

One hand tangles your hair to tilt your head back. His mouth is on yours like a man starved. The other moves down your half clothed body down to your weeping sex. 

You gasp into his mouth as he fulfills your request. Your mind is going foggy with desire as that dull pleasure in your gut grows sharper. His fingers are longer, thicker than your own. They curl in as he fucks you, like he’s beckoning you. He’s a quick study, your little human. 

Your dress is falling off you, the top opening a sliver, exposing more eager, shameful skin. The beginnings of your breast, the enticing expanse of your collarbone, the white column of your throat. Her master is greedy though, he wants to block her view it seems. He forces his mouth onto all the skin he can reach-licking, sucking, kissing.

Your skin tingles. He’s gone almost feral. You can feel his dull teeth against your warm flesh. Your veins engorged with borrowed blood make you look almost human-causes his love bites to just barely bruise under his mouth. 

The blood used to form the bruise would take it away from your belly, leaving you hungry. He doesn’t know any of that yet. He’s too busy marking territory that would never be his. Not truly. 

 She wants to bite. 

Over and over. Break open your skin while she pleasures you. Free all of that stolen blood and watch it roll down your cold flesh. How would you react? Would you smile knowingly, like you are now? Would you be afraid, the way Pietro was when you destroyed him? 

Her mind lingers on your face. Your kiss swollen lips, petals of a flower, turn into a smitten smile as he takes you. 

You throw your head back. As though a creature as ancient as you would actually find such pleasure in this. But, ever to her surprise, your pussy clenches hard around him. 

His cocks throbs and leaks onto your hand in response. 

“Please,” he groans into your skin. 

“Please, what?” You’re panting, your chest heaving like a bitch in heat. 

His cheeks tinge redder, “Can I…”

“Say it, Dr. Parker,” You delicately cup his chin, forcing him to look at you, “Tell me you want to fuck me, Peter. I’ll let you. But you must tell me how badly you need it.”

Your hand stops. You remove it from his trousers. His hand does not. Obedient dog. 

She’s rubbing harder, feeling herself growing wetter. You’d murdered her brother. She hated you. But you’d shown pain, regret in the visions you shared. She remembered how you’d starved yourself, tried to satiate yourself with the blood of an elk just to regurgitate it. The fear when Peter had caught you. The immediate guilt once you’d come up from draining him. 

Why should she trust you? You had clearly hexed her, planted a cursed seed that was growing. 

She slides a third finger inside her dripping core. 

Her mind reforms the memory without her consent, running without end. In this new memory, it’s not Master Parker you're pressing yourself against in the library. 

It’s her own hands running up your milky thighs. You’re a horrible murderer, but your skin tastes sweet-like salted honey. Your lips taste sharp like blood, your tongue slots perfectly against hers. 

You’re still half clothed in your finery, but stripped for easier access. You’re sucking on her bottom lip while your hands fondle her. You pinch her nipples through her dress, making them pebble under your touch. 

Your hair is coming down, haloing your face. She’s starved, her cunt aching. Her green eyes shimmering with unshed tears because of how bad she wants. 

“You can touch me,” You’d say, “You can fuck me and I’ll fuck you.”

In her fantasy, the library is alive with the sound of sex. Her own cunt full of you, while she feverishly attempts to prove that she was superior to her master. 

She thinks of moving onto the desk, where all of his research lived. Laying flat on her back while your sweet cunt hovered over her face and your damned mouth breathed warm air over her clit. 

It’s a thought you must’ve left behind inside her but her mouth waters at the thought. You know exactly how she tastes. She knows the same. Exactly how to lick. Where to suck to get more of your sweetness into her mouth. You stick your tongue deep into her cunt and play lazily with her clit as a reward. 

She’d cry out, try to buck her hips into your face. Too bad for her, though. Naughty girls do not get their prize. You would move that clever mouth off her and press yourself harder onto her face. She’d be grateful for it. 

An obedient dog. Just how you like. 

Or maybe you need not be so greedy. Maybe you’d rub against her. Slot yourselves together, rub until you both came, screaming. 

You liked that too. You’d learned that in the time before, when you were a concubine. 

You had not needed to desperately clamor for attention or fulfillment for thousands of years, but maybe you’d be so desperate, you’d rake her skirts up and angle yourself against her. Your cunts kissing, your wetness attaching you. Your tongues back rubbing against the other, tasting each other. 

She knew everything about you. She could destroy you. And yet she’s thinking of you like this. Like a degenerate fool with a mind full of vulgarity. 

It only makes her angrier that the memory snaps back into focus, back to Master Parker’s forehead resting against yours. 

“Please let me inside. Please let me fuck you.” He’s a victim but a willing one. He sounds so pathetic, pleading with you. His voice shakes, “I need you…”

You kiss him, chastely. “How badly?”

His fingers move out of you, start slowly rubbing your clit. You can control your arousal, heighten or dull it at any point. But he was already doomed. So completely undone by you that he whines like a child. 

Your mind is aflame with visions of what this newfound power over him might bring. Your own fingers wrap around his wrist. He watches helplessly as you drag it to your mouth. Your lips wrap around his flesh. 

It’s too much for Wanda to watch you suck your wetness off his fingers, your eyes pinned to his. The act means nothing to you. You’ve done this a million times and would do it a million more. But there’s something in his liquid golden eyes that shimmers. 

Love. Foolish. Eternal. So very human. 

“More than air,” He says breathlessly, “More than food or drink. More than sunlight. I’d spend an eternity plunged into darkness if it meant I were with you.” 

The sincerity in his voice is ice water on your skin. You kiss the palm of his hand, “Have me then.” 

The final tether snaps. 

An eternity in darkness. The courting had been serious. He wants more of you than flesh. 

Noone in centuries has ever asked that of you. 

His cockhead pushes into you, you cry out. You knew he was thick but to feel it was another thing entirely. He grips your hips, more semi bruising. He has to stop or he will come undone inside you too quickly. 

He groans, “I’ve thought of this far too often…it’s better than my dreams…” 

This part of the memory she hates. 

He keeps filling you. He fits perfectly into your cunt, like it was made for him. Wanda hisses at the invasion. She can feel how stretched you are around him, how snug the fit is. She can feel the warmth in your belly that came with his confession. She can feel all of your humanity and vulnerability in this moment. 

“I love you,” He breathes against your flesh, “Stay with me, please.”

His thrusts are shallow at first; he doesn’t want to leave this warm vice until you’ve given him his answer. 

She wants the answer too, though she knows it. She’s played this vision a million times. You cannot go back to your home in Italy, with your other obedient servants and beautiful homes and artists falling over you without her bringing you to justice. 

There’s also another, repulsive reason trying to make itself known. It sneaks in amongst her confused, muddled feelings. 

“I will stay with you.”

He pulls his prick out of you, just enough for you to miss it, before he slams home again. 

She cannot escape this more than she can escape her own impending orgasm. He keeps babbling his romantic nonsense, thrusting in and out, faster and faster. The sound of his skin against yours, the creaking of the bench beneath your combined weight. Your moans and cries muffled by his tongue, teeth, lips. 

He’s trying to devour you. Take all he can in case you’re lying. 

You are not. She knows you will keep your word. 

Your heart begins to beat. 

It has not in thousands of years. Not since the day you were turned. 

It’s the most beautiful sound in the world. 

She hates it. She wants to reach into the memory, reach into your chest, and rip it out. You do not get to keep it with what you did to Pietro. 

Things blur suddenly. Like a sick consultation, she briefly takes her master’s place. It’s her own hand you’re guiding to your breast. You hold it there and she can feel the weak but steady rhythm. 

Your cunt feels amazing around her as she pumps into you. The sounds of your sex filling her ears and the soothing notion you’re this wet because of her nourishing the very fabric of her soul.

“Do you feel that?” You ask her, “Only you do this, Wanda. Only you and no other give me this much pain and pleasure…”

She, Peter, whatever being they are combined, come together. They grab your hips-the image flickering back and forth between she and him. Her thoughts are his, his thoughts are hers. 

They can’t let you up, can’t let you go. 

You love them back, you want them. 

You said you’d stay. 

They’re going to make you their wife. 

They’re going to impregnate you, give you a child. They’re forever going to devote themselves to you. 

Your heart beats for them. 

For him. 

Your heart beats for him. 

She’s forced out as a participant as he comes apart deep inside you. It isn’t fair that he gets to experience you tightening like mad right after. Your cunt milking him, your back arching off the bench to hold him close. 

And your face. Your parted lips, your closed eyes. 

The noise you make when your own orgasm cracks like thunder inside you. 

She melts around her fingers.

He keeps you plugged even as he goes soft. You love that you can feel him still. He gives you soft kisses along the face and neck, kisses each of your fingers.

“My love,” he whispers to you, “My darling. My dove. My one…” 

She feels hollow. If someone cut her right now, she would surely not bleed. Her orgasm did nothing but worsen the strange unnameable pain in her body as she watches you both. 

You giggle, your body is warm. You’d been diffused in sunlight. He loves you, in spite of what you are. You want to keep him safe, to keep him near you. You can’t hear his thoughts, not like the other pitiful humans. You have to trust him. You give this gift willingly. 

You want forever with Peter. 

You want to turn him. 

You detach from her. The memory loses shape and turns to mist. It evaporates and suddenly Wanda is back in the servant’s quarters. 

Alone. 

As sleep blessedly comes to take her, a startling thought pierces through her. 

Why not me?

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