#peter parker smut
kinktober day 16- accidental stimulation
peter parker x fem!reader. dubcon exhibitionism, voyeurism, public sexual experiences, washing machines, accidental stimulation, masturbation
Peter’s grateful for his enhanced strength as he carries his hefty basket of dirty clothes down the many flights of stairs from his dorm to the laundry room. He’s sure his arms and legs would be feeling it by the time he reaches the lowest level if it weren’t for that.
He rounds the corner and enters the long corridor that houses the laundry room, the last door on the right. He’s not surprised to hear the familiar rumbling of a machine as he approaches, but as he gets nearer to the room, the door slightly ajar, he tunes into a sound that does surprise him.
Choked gasps and soft, not quite muffled whimpers float through the air and to Peter’s eardrums as he comes to a halt, just outside the laundry room door. He’s struck by their familiarity, eyes widening as the noises bring him to restless nights in his dorm, reminding him of what spills from his own lips when his fist moves anxiously beneath his covers as he fucks into his own hand. He swallows the lump forming in his throat. Against his better judgement- all judgement seems to have been thrown out the window somewhere in the past five seconds- he leans forward, peeking through the crack in the door.
There you are, sitting on top of a washing machine as it thunders away, clad in tiny pajama shorts and a spaghetti strapped cami. Your head’s thrown back, your hands grip the machine’s edges, your legs are spread slightly, your hips are angled downwards to press your clit into the vibrating surface below you. Peter’s mouth runs dry at the sight.
He flushes when he realizes his gaze is lingering on your breasts as they visibly jiggle beneath the thin material of your tank top, and he looks away in a weak attempt at being gentlemanly. It makes little difference, however, as the gorgeous image of your pleasured form is burned seemingly permanently into his retinas, and your soft, blissful sighs are still clearly audible.
He can feel his cock hardening, his pants slowly becoming uncomfortably tight. His rational mind is screaming at him to turn around and walk away and pretend this never happened. It takes a few seconds, and another glance at you- lips slack, eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving- but somehow rationality manages to win out. He turns on his heel and takes sure strides away, cheeks still burning hot as he tries to clear this whole experience from his memory.
He only makes it a few paces down the hallway before a long, erotic moan resonates from the room behind him. His breath hitches at the sound of your voice, unabashed in ecstasy and unaware anyone’s there to listen, and he can’t help but stop in his tracks as he processes the fact that he just heard you orgasm.
After a beat of silence passes he starts down the hallway again, more hastily now. As he makes his way back to his dorm, quickly scaling the many flights of stairs, the scene replays over and over again in his mind, your moan echoing in his head.
Peter throws open the door to his dorm and immediately drops his basket of laundry to the floor without care. Not even bothering to move to the bed, he leans against the door and pulls down the waistbands of his sweats and boxers. His hard, aching cock springs free, and his fist wraps around it, stroking fervently.
He pictures your blissful face and imagines groping your bouncing tits as he shoots hot ropes of cum all over his hand- because while rational thought may have won out, and while he may have walked away, there’s no way he’s pretending that never happened.
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i don’t send requests often so i hope i’m doing this right lol. could you write a blurb for peter parker x reader where reader has been feeling touch starved recently so peter being the best boyfriend he is gives her cuddles? quarantine got me needing a hug lol
a/n: ah the ultimate concept :’)
genre: fluff | warnings: none!
The date was to bask in love, together, and it feels from it.
You’d suggested a study date for some quality time together as Peter had been busy with his patrol’s and you with your coursework, and he, of course, agreed in a heartbeat, having missed the presence of his lovely girlfriend.
But currently, he seemed to be rather busy with his work—and anxious. You see the way he’s picking on his nails, and fiddling with his fingers, or constantly drumming his fingers against his textbook.
And he’s so far away.
He’s sprawled out on his bed, while you’re over at his study desk. The whole point of the date was to spend some time together but that was the last thing you were doing. You’ve been craving to have his arms around you for the past week, itching to finally be in his hold.
You decide to take a break. Pushing away your study material, you walk over to Peter, his eyes instantly catching yours, his lips curling upwards.
“Hey, pretty girl,” He coos. He carelessly takes a hold of his scattered study resources and pushes them aside to make space for you. Crawling over to him, you settle beside him and Peter instantly opens his arms for you—you fall into your safe haven without a thought.
“Hey,” You reply. Warmth rushes into your body instantly, and you feel at ease. It feels as if all stress has left you for a moment, and you can truly relax. It’s tranquil, when you’re in his company.
A smile graces your lips when Peter’s lips brush over your hairline, scattering a few kisses over your skin.
“Missed you.” He says, his nimble fingers tracing mindless patterns over your arm. You nuzzle deeply into him, and Peter’s more than happy to pull you closer.
“You too,” You return simply.
“You okay?” He asks after a moment, observing the way you’d try to pull him impossibly near, even when there’s no distance.
“Now that you’re here,” You say. Your lips quirk into a lovesick smile which makes flames spread out over Peter’s cheeks. “Just missed you ‘s all,” You murmur, and place a kiss to his jaw, which only intensifies Peter’s blush.
His fingers soon tangle themselves in your hair, and you feel yourself falling into the clutches of slumber because of the motion. Peter notices, a smile sporting his lips at your sleepy self.
“Go to sleep, I’m here.”
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umbrella | p.p
summary: a night in the pouring rain after a bad day at work only means that you get cheered up by spider-man — whom you end up learning is your beloved boyfriend.
w/c: 3.1k | p.p masterlist
warnings: fluff, slight angst, it gets heated (thought it's soft) but nothing is explicit, a mention of sex & a few swears.
notes: a late birthday gift for the one and only addie (@celestialholland) <3 i always ended up writing new things the longer i had this in my drafts, it became worrying /hj. and as you can tell lmao, bits of andrew's spidey is sprinkled in this bc i love his spidey sm ♡
relentless as it is, rain mercilessly keeps on pouring down on new york city tonight. but that doesn't stop peter parker to wear his mask and get out there to be on the look out for crime.
in all fairness, it's more than weird to see a guy in a red and black unitard swinging from building to building, but it's what the people of queens have been accustomed to — to see their beloved spider-man save everything and anything harmful in their footsteps. yet, to peter's surprise, everyone can't seem to grasp the fact that he utilises an umbrella and plastic bags over his feet.
besides the occasional light-hearted laugh at him, peter has to admit that the sound of the rain is peaceful. it hits different when it's against the circular canopy just millimetres above his head, the noise subconsciously making peter feel relaxed. he listens to it carefully, walking on the streets and taking in everything whilst he can, before he plans to get eggs for his aunt may as she requested.
but there's you — whom would rather have spent their day at home, doing anything but running home in the rain, without a proper jacket to prevent your clothes from soaking through. on top of this dreadful weather, you've just had the fortitude to endure the discredit from your boss at work, spill tea over your blazer and arrive late. it all had happened in the span of less than 10 hours, so it's no wonder you're crying on your way home. but perhaps a dream, really — as you catch the guy in a red suit stop in your tracks in front of your very eyes. the guy who you seemingly admire because of his contribution to the city.
peter couldn't only sense the threat of you not crossing the road correctly, but the morose atmosphere that you sustained. so, here he is; a gentle hand on your shoulder, his voice the only soft thing you've heard all day: “hey, hey... are you okay, ma'am? everything alright?”
looking up to what you assume is the eyes underneath the mask, you're only capable of squeezing your mouth shut, finally nodding. yet, your efforts to stop your lips from trembling are thwarted — when you realise a stranger finally acknowledges you and your dire need to be regarded for.
“here, stand under here.” he wraps his clothed hand around yours after beckoning you to come join him. as you're finally under his trusty umbrella, sheltering from the hammering patter of the rain, you become internally grateful for his help.
“see? you're safe," he assures you, bringing yourself and him under the tree nearby. it gives you time to wipe your eyes whilst you stop yourself from snivelling, even though they're simply tears in the rain. a camouflage that suddenly means nothing.
“do you... maybe want a hug?” he asks, his free arm looking ready to pull you into one. you furrow your eyebrows, caught by surprise at the gesture. all until his mechanical lenses contract and head tilts to the side, whereupon you wave him off with a hand, sniffling.
you reply jokingly, even with a croaked voice, “i'm drenched, spidey. i don't wanna get you marinated in cloud juice.”
“cloud juice?” he laughs before the lenses clearly shutter close, indicating that his eyes are squeezed shut. there's a snort that slips out by accident, in effect making you laugh with him. “that's actually something my girlfriend would say.”
“a girlfriend?” you press, a tentative smile making its way on your lips as you raise your eyebrows as if to tease him.
“yeah,” he answers, contentment edging in his voice. “why? jealous?”
“hey,” you begin to argue, “i love your work, spider-man. but my boyfriend is perhaps the most amazing guy on the planet. which reminds me—” you sigh, teeth clattering as it starts to get cold. “—i really need to get home because i miss him... like... a lot.”
shit, peter thinks.
“sure, i'll walk you,” he sputters out after a moment or two. right now, peter thinks twice before he makes it too obvious that he's the one you have to go home to. “yeah. uh... which way?”
after walking for what seems like forever — that only being three minutes — you're left to wonder what your boyfriend, peter, is doing at home. hopefully making that chicken curry that he's been labouring the point about ever since last week.
“peter's gonna be so happy for me for meeting spider-man,” you jabber to him, partially by accident since you don't want to fawn over him whens he's right next to you.
“your peter sure will be,” he mumbles.
“what was that?”
“nothing, nothing,” he starts chuckling, “i can't wait to go home too tonight... you know... to my girlfriend.”
“awh, cute.” you side-eye him, nudging him in the process.
head leaning into the side, his neck tingles at the attuned feeling of being emblazed by the mere thought of you again. with him being peter parker, that is. “yeah... i'm very lucky to have her.”
“she would be,” you ponder. amazingly, you feel light for whatever reason, as if you're floating. there's something about spider-man today that makes you feel special, lucky enough to have him cross your path instead of resorting to weeping and wallowing in sorrow alone. you know how beholden you are to him that now peter doesn't have to worry about you arriving home whilst crying.
turning towards the next street, it doesn't take long for the vigilante to abruptly stop in his tracks, causing you to halt, too. maybe it's the fact that he feels like he should uplift your mood, but it's mainly because he's realised the irony of the situation he's in with you, and it's just too good of an opportunity to let pass. he speaks up, “i... i just realised something.”
after mindlessly twirling the umbrella in his hand, without another word, you hear the one and only spider-man giggle. it's familiar, that's for sure. yet the questioning and mostly afraid look on your face is answered immediately when he points at you, singing, “you can stand under my umbrella-ella-ella, eh eh eh.”
meanwhile, you're noticing him wiggling his hips with every word, with the right rhythm, in which you happen to end up in peals of laughter, breathily sounding out, “oh my god.”
“not good enough?”
“nah... just glad to know the hero of new york's has nice pipes on him.”
you hear a snort come from him, and a little giggle following after. your eyebrows furrow at the homely sound, but you assume it's nothing. in turn, it doesn't fail to pluck the corners of your mouth up in a smile.
“what can i say?” he counters, shrugging his shoulders. “part of the job.”
just when you think the conversation has ended there and you turn to walk on, he begins to sing another part of the same song, “you can run into my arms. it's okay, don't be alarmed. come into meeee.”
he waits a moment before prodding you with his shoulder, “come on, sing with me.”
“i think it would be inappropriate for me to sing that last part, spidey.”
he audibly gasps as he clicks on. “you know rihanna meant as in a hug, y/n.”
again, your heart leaps in your chest. “how do you know my name?”
all the clues add up. your own umbrella was the first clue, the little paint mark that stains the handle was the first giveaway — in which he clearly forgets to cover it every now and again. his voice especially is the thing you picked up; he deepens it sometimes, but clearly forgets in other occasions.
“i knew you'd crack. and i definitely wasn't wrong when i heard your voice. your jumpiness is exactly like him. your laugh— even your hand gestures.”
“what- what do you mean?” the masked hero - your boyfriend asks, sweating just as easily as he can walk.
“my boyfriend is spider-man,” you try to envisage that fact in your head when the words tumble out your mouth. “which means the supposed girlfriend you have is... me. who you said you're lucky to have.” you pout, acknowledging him and you can imagine, in every aspect, the smile on his face slowly growing as he blushes under his mask.
“because it's true.” his head slants to one side, a hand motioning towards you, which points to him yet again. he goes on to tease you, “and i'm the most amazing guy on the planet which you miss... like... a lot.”
looking amused, you curl your lips up as you titter at him — recognising he's quoting what you had said prior to this. “and it's true, webby.”
he shakes his head, squaring up now since he finds himself leaning towards your face as if he's going in for a kiss. as he does this, you're innately confessing that he looks hot doing that particular stance. you tell yourself to bring it up later.
he presents the offer, “talking about... webs... wanna swing?”
you look around, realising your surroundings, only for you to come forward and whisper, “pete, we're literally a street away.”
“oh yeah.” he scratches his clothed neck. “fine, then. you go home and i'll be right there, okay? i have a surprise for you.”
“—bye ma'am! stay safe.” he gives you a peace sign before he even bestows you the chance to finish your sentence, swinging away with the help of the buildings on the street.
you shrug, the biggest smile making its way on your face anyway as you embrace the news and his confessions before you just found out his identity. he most likely has had a reason to keep you from knowing that he has super powers. perhaps to keep his friends and aunt may safe... and you. knowing him, it must be.
walking home with a happy skip in your step, you think about how you finally understand what people mean by spider-man's infectious nature to cheer people up.
before long, you're met with peter's presence when he opens the door — cheeks raised as you're mirroring his expression. his fluffy brown hair chiefly catches your attention — sticking out in all directions and defying gravity with contempt. but he's somehow changed his clothes already; the necklace you gave him for your anniversary last year glints in the light from the bulb not far from his head.
this is the surprise he meant earlier, you're guessing.
with all things taken into account, and your surprise, you'd honestly say your bad mood has since vanished into thin air from the very moment peter's alter ego brought you under his umbrella. you underwent that horrible phase not even long ago, yet it's evidently bubbled into nothing, like as if any of the pitiful events that had occurred earlier on had never happened.
truly, there are some people worth coming home to. and your pete? he does exactly that. he's worth coming home to.
after securing the lock on the door, his hand wrapped around yours snugly, you both fall in a fit of giggles on the way to your bedroom. cosy, warm, safe; what you feel when peter finally tugs you towards him, foreheads and noses touching as you take the smell of fresh linen around you.
“did the laundry, you know.” peter quips in, nose gliding to the base of your cheek.
“hmmm. how much detergent d'you put in?”
“like, uh... 3 caps full?”
your eyes fly open at that, eventually muttering, “for fuck's sake.”
silence lasts for a while after he responds back with a “my bad.” you take in the serenity, though, up until your conversation earlier with him dawns on you.
pouting jokingly, you raise, “you've never sang in front of me.”
“oh, uh... do you... like it?”
“yeah. would totally stream your version of umbrella like— a thousand times.”
“har har har.”
“you think i'm kidding?”
“you're serious?” you eagerly nod your head as he looks at you incredulously. he continues, “well then. hey, y/n—”
in seconds, peter has a strong grip on your hips, bringing you indubiously more closer to him, as his face is mere inches from yours again. “you have my heaaart. we'll never be world's apaaart.”
peter retreats away from you as he continues to jive about on the carpet in a way you're beginning to wish he wouldn't. though, again, you downright appreciate that his ass really has no right looking that good.
when he returns to you, tongue lying against his cheek and eyebrows raised, you're one to moan childishly, “this is so fucking cheesy.” your hands rest on his hard chest, which now you know the real reason behind his strong physique.
“only with you.”
your entranced demeanour becomes more playful, as does his. back arching against him, soft and slow, your head falls far back until you can see both you and peter upside down in the mirror. you smile at his giggly nature, of whom his eye-wrinkling laugh can be seen in it like clear daylight.
a sturdy hand at your lower back, he brings you up close for you to face him again. now you're up again, you're quick to glide your hands to the back of his neck and seat them there.
you ask, eyes scanning his eyes, then to his freckles dotted around his angelic face, “why'd you run into me tonight? why'd you see me out of all people?” his mouth snaps shut, catching your attention, and making you narrow your eyes at him once you realise something. “were you spying on me?”
he tuts. “i always do. and it's not spying, babe. looking out,” he corrects you. “besides, you really looked like you needed a friend.”
after bringing out your hand which is currently settled on his lower back, he holds onto it, intertwining his fingers with yours as if to reiterate that he's there for you.
“i did.” you simply mumble under your breath. “and hmmm. you always do, huh?” you raise your eyebrows, smiling again for what seems like the thousandth time the same night. “why?”
“don't wanna lose you is all.”
“you'll never lose me.” you shake your head, your fingers tracing lines over where his heart is. “in here, anyway.”
peter beams, finding your beauty mesmeric in its own unique way when you say it.
you finally catch his gaze, eyes meeting in a hold with ample enough ardour to be pulled apart, as if to let your words sink in to the both of you; to cherish them like you always do. the longer you stare at each other, the more the urge to laugh gets harder — all until he sticks his tongue out and wiggles his eyebrows to spoil the sweet moment.
it's peter who breaks the eye contact moments later, only because your hands absentmindedly have began fiddling with his web shooters on his wrists, disguised cleverly as wrist bands. his line of sight shifts to where your fingers are placed.
“is this... what i think it is?” you press, figuring out where on earth the sticky stuff comes out from.
“yeah...” he returns after nodding, “yanno... 'cos i have to be ready to equip my web cartridges at any given moment.”
“that's so cool, pete.” you marvel, overjoyed at the compact device, perfectly credible and within reach, almost making you believe that it's all some kind of joke.
you wrap a hand around his left band anyway, as if to embody your fascination — which becomes slightly amusing to peter — and guide it to your right. you might as well try it when it's right at your disposal... and you know the perfect way to test it out.
with the stance that you've learnt which your spider-man normally adopts before swinging, yours and peter's arms are outstretched and alongside each other. but you're left confused from where to go on from here.
in a small voice, you curiously ask, “how do you do it?”
“press this.” he motions to the button in the centre, before leaning forward to kiss your temple.
immediately upon shooting it right exactly at the bed post, you turn your head slightly to see peter blowing out his cheeks, impressed.
he then inclines his head towards you, piping up, “good aim.” he smirks. “why there specifically?”
nibbling your lip and winking, you purr, “you know why.”
you wink once he comes in for a kiss, and before you know it, you're amidst a tangled mess on the bed already, consumed in devotion — until you stop him with a firm hand on his chest to catch your breath. the moment you're able to speak, you start by placing your legs on either side of him, eventually resting your head on his shoulder to say, “but before we do anything...”
“hmm?” you notice peter's eyes are round and a little wider than before, observing you attentively, whereupon you seize the moment by clasping him in your arms snugly. his laboured breathing becomes much more steadier when you do that, digits proceeding to stroke your head, despite being a little confused.
“just having that hug that you offered me earlier,” you come out with, eyes fluttering close as you lay on your beloved boyfriend's chest. peter nods to himself, reciprocating it with much warmth as you are. he waits a while before he encirces your waist to place you on your back effortlessly, peppering kisses under your neck in the process.
“want hot chocolate after sex, right? extra cream and sprinkles?”
you nod your head excitedly, “you know it.”
it's with much passion that you muster within yourself to kiss him as you hold either side of his jaw with your hands; his whole visage delicate in your touch as you bring him closer, sealing your love a billion times in the kiss. the depth it holds does as much as you want and need it to, encapsulating all your remaining pent-up anger into pure love.
there's no doubt that in peter's commitment to you, is where he feels safest and best. noses bumping every now and again, the mere smell of rain that dampened your clothes earlier pervades his already-haywire senses, but you have a way of making the smell pleasant enough for him to keep kissing you. in every right way, thrilling.
as nimble fingertips work down your sides to grasp your hips, you're brought further into an ecstasy when he works to your liking. what matters more is that you feel all the more at home with him; whether it's by his side or underneath or miles apart... your inner sunshine comes through just the same.
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#39 peter parker 💌
❀ closer to you ❀
hiii ashanti <3 hope you enjoy!
prompt: stopping a kiss when it gets too heated
↳ college au, established couple
content tags: suggestiveness, a lil frivolous make out
word count: 1.3k
flufftober drabbles (requests are closed!)
you love spider-man’s suit. even before you found out your boyfriend—and then best friend’s—secret identity, you certainly had… a lot of feelings about the masked vigilante. granted, most of these feelings were similar in nature; caught between wanting to run your fingers over the hero’s abs, visible even through his suit, to taking a comfortable seat on his spandex-covered thighs.
when you and peter finally made the switch from best friends to boyfriend and girlfriend early in your sophomore year of university, you discovered your wall-scaling celebrity crush and the shy klutz who eats fistfuls of cereal half-naked in your bed were the same. not on purpose, of course—peter wouldn’t be peter if he weren’t terrible at secret-keeping.
you’d had your suspicions that he’s hiding something major from you way before you started dating. even back in high school, peter was more squirrelly than usual when you asked him about his stark internship or tried to make weekend plans with him abruptly or even dropped by his apartment unannounced and asked him the next day where the hell he was at nine pm on a wednesday. he would always get so stressed and panicked that you’d feel bad for him, and you spent much of your friendship pretending like you didn’t notice his unexplained bruises and weird reflexes.
however, you got your undeniable proof almost three months into being peter parker’s girlfriend.
it’s nearing midnight on a monday and you’re in bed, joe goldberg stalking yet another girlfriend playing on your laptop mindlessly as you attempt to finish reading for one of your classes and wait for peter to get home. your third cup of coffee sits half-drunk on your nightstand next to a small lamp, the only source of light in your bedroom, and you reach for it blindly when something crashes outside your window.
eyebrows furrowed, you hesitantly get up, wondering what the hell could’ve hit your building’s third floor when a figure appears. it’s badly lit, standing at an angle on your fire escape that causes you to squint at it, but you can’t make it out until you’re pushing the window up. the figure jumps up in surprise at the noise, and you’re met with spider-man, crouching on the railing of the fire escape, mask pulled up to his nose and clutching his side in pain.
you gape, mouth open like a cartoon fish, spider-man’s white eyes staring back at you as his own jaw drops.
“peter?” you gasp, your index shakily pointing at him.
spider-man’s neck almost flies off as he looks behind him, his own finger pressed to his chest, before he turns back towards you. “what—no. no, it’s not me—it’s not peter. who’s... i’m spider-man.”
“peter benjamin parker,” you snap, grabbing his wrist and pulling him into the room. he stumbles inside, trying to pull his mask down as you close the window and pull the blinds down. “you son of a bitch.”
“hey!” he yelps, pulling the face covering off and pouting, arms crossed over his chest like a petulant child. “my parents are dead.”
stepping forward, you delight inwards in the way he trips on his own feet while trying to get away from you. your boyfriend—spider-man, your boyfriend—is sandwiched between you and the dresser, his cheeks a bright red that matches his outfit. “don’t play the orphan card right now, parker.” you bite, watching his pout deepen and gaze fixate on the floor. sighing, you push his sweaty hair off his forehead, before you ask softly, “are you hurt?”
confused at the sudden and drastic switch in your tone, peter doesn’t respond at first. “um,” he stutters, leaning into your touch, “got punched kind of hard in the ribs. with a car.” when you choke on your own inhale, he intertwines your fingers to try and soothe you. “it’s okay! i heal super quick, i won’t feel anything in like three hours. promise, baby.”
your eyes stay locked on your hands, the blue and red material of his suit contrasting against your skin, and he takes your silence as a opportunity to swing your hands a bit. it makes you crack a smile, and you walk backwards to the bed, peter’s eyes lighting up as you both fall onto the mattress.
careful not to hurt him further, you make sure peter’s comfortable propped up on a few pillows and the headboard, while you sit crisscross opposite him. one hand loses itself in his curls and he presses your other against his heart, your thumb rubbing the suit with wonder.
“you’re not freaking out anymore?” he whispers, squeezing your hand.
“not externally, no.” you respond, eyes too busy trailing over his figure. “i’m a little preoccupied at the moment.”
the air is no longer tense with confrontation, the strain having melted as peter’s forehead crinkles with confusion at your statement. “what do you mean?”
“i mean,” you start, throwing your leg over peter’s so you’re seated on his lap, his arms automatically circling your waist, “i’m a bit too busy thinking about how fucking hot you look in the suit and how this entire time, i’ve been secretly thirsting over my boyfriend.”
if you thought his face was red before, it’s nothing compared to the violent blush that spreads across his cheeks and ears after your mini confession. giggles threaten to escape you as you feel peter’s palms shake on your hips, his tongue relentlessly licking his thin lips and biting them as though that would make the wheels in his head stop turning rapidly.
“thirs—thirsting over me? like, over spider-man?” he blubbers out, honeyed eyes wide at the sight of your grin.
the heat coming off his cheeks is high as you cup them, thumb sliding across his freckles while you coo, “come on, i know you’re not oblivious to how well it fits you, petey.” to enforce your point, you run your hand down his bicep, the muscle, defined under the suit, flexing under your caress. “you’re always so handsome, but this… you’re so sexy.”
the words have barely left your lips before peter’s mouth covers your own, making you moan with surprise and amusement as he kisses you like he never has before. sure, you and peter have shared many kisses and been together many times, but never has this much passion and enthusiasm radiated off your boyfriend. his gloved hands squeeze your hips before one moves down, tracing the curve of your ass, and the other slips under your pyjama shirt. there’s no uncertainty in his actions, not this time.
peter’s tongue slips between your lips, groaning deep in his throat when you pull on his hair, tugging on the curls at the nape of his neck. before his hand can move any further up your chest, thumb tracing the wire of your bra, he winces, the sound loud enough to catch your attention. you pull away, heart clenching as peter’s forehead scrunches and he follows your lips, his own pouty.
“are you okay?” you ask him, voice hushed despite the apartment being completely empty except for you two.
“yeah,” peter responds, cupping your face, “just my side cramping, it’s fine. come here, sweetheart.”
chuckling, you shake your head, gently pushing his hands off you. pressing a soft peck to the tip of his nose, you get off the bed. “come on, let’s get you washed up and into your jammies, spider-man.”
“no,” he whines, flopping back into the pillows like a toddler. “give me my kisses, y/n.”
you sigh, looking at him over your shoulder as you pull out his star wars-themed pyjama bottoms. “you’re really making me regret this crush, spidey.”
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Kinktober Day 17
pairing: Peter parker x reader
Word count: 270
Kinktober masterlist// masterlist
You’d both been going at it for hours. The need to touch each other was too strong for you both to be apart. If Peter was being honest he could’ve fucked you the rest of the night, but he needed to remember that you weren’t enhanced like him and you still needed to catch your breath.
“I can take it” You whimpered as you came for the 6th time that night. Peter smiled looking down at your limp body. He loved how desperate you were for him, how you constantly craved his touch, “Please baby” you pleaded
It took everything in him not to continue fucking you into the matterss and make you cum a few more times. He listened closely to the way you body reacted to him, taking note on how tired you were become, “Baby you need to rest for a while, I can’t have you passing out on me”
“But I want to feel you” You pouted
“Don’t worry baby I’m not going anywhere” his hand caressed your cheek reassuringly, You sighed relaxing with his touch. Peter smiled, flipping your body so you rested on his chest, his cock still deep inside you that he could feel the small bulge that formed on your stomach.
Your head fell to his shoulder, enjoying that much needed break while still loving how Peter was stretching your abused cunt. You moaned as you moved your hips, fighting your body on a thin line of desperation to cum and desperation to rest.
Peter gripped your hips roughly, “20 minutes baby just relax and then I’ll fuck you all night long”
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wipe your blood off the concrete
pairing: peter parker x reader
synopsis: you are peter’s best friend in the whole world. the two of you can barely hold back your feelings for each other after peter is beaten badly after a night on patrol. he takes you by surprise when he insists the two of you go to a party afterwards and things get very confusing.
warnings: smut (18+ only), mentions of blood, mentions of mental illness/anxiety/panic attacks, alcohol use, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, protected sex
genres: best friends to lovers, uni!peter, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, fluff and angst and smut all in one
a/n: GOD this is a big bertha. i was listening i think you’re alright by jay som and then my brain spiraled entirely into... this. i recommend you listen to this song while you read. i could probably make a playlist based on this fic but i don’t want to self-indulge more than i already have. i’m a sucker for bffs to lovers, obviously. i’m also very wine drunk. do what this info what you will.
when i wake up in the morning
i’ll make you some coffee
we’ll lay about and let the day pass
College had taken a toll on Peter. He was an anxious boy, you knew this already. What you hadn’t seen in your years of knowing him was how hollow he could be, how he wouldn’t want to get up in the morning, how he tight-lipped he could be in conversations when normally he’s always beaming. He doesn’t sleep at your place that much anymore because he hates to be a burden even though you swear on your heart that you don’t mind helping him through his nightmares.
It often goes like this:
There are nights where Peter does unforgivable things. He watches Tony Stark die, he watches Aunt May look upon him in tears, he reaches out for your hand but you’re falling ten stories below him. It’s these nights where he shakes himself awake, suffocated by his own panicked breaths, but you’re usually right there to soothe him with hushed nothings in his ear. It’s an unspoken arrangement between the two of you that you don’t dare to discuss by morning. Besides, you’d had a few panic attacks of your own as you grew into your girlish flesh-suit, knobby limbs and scraped knees. Peter always liked you for how alive you always looked, even if you felt awkward roaming the earth in a body you were taught to dislike. You’re headstrong in your beliefs, however, and at your current age you’d been through enough bullshit to not fixate on the little problems you faces as a teenager. Peter considers you his rock, his other half. He often thinks it’s you who ought to bear the weight of a superhero. You’d do a better job than him, maybe.
It’s 10 am on a Friday and Peter is doing an awfully good job at zoning out the sound of you knocking on his door.
“Pierre,” you whine, holding a bag of donuts and a tray of coffees. “Let me in you son of a bitch.”
The lock on the door slides open. You’re met with a sleepy Peter, who’s traded his gangly figure to impressive biceps over the past five years. You try not to stare at how good his arms look in his fitted Led Zeppelin tee. You chuckle at the fact that he’s still wearing his boxers. Spiderman-patterned boxers, nonetheless. He groans. “Fuck, sorry. Real out of it today.”
“Oat milk, no sugar,” you smile at him, holding out your tray. You can see dark circles around his eyes. He must’ve been up late doing schoolwork or more technological advancements to his suit.
“You’re a godsend,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead as he takes the paper cup.
“Whatcha been up to?”
“Physics,” he yawns. “Waiting for you.”
“Peter, did you sleep at all last night?” you pester, poking his under-eye circles.
He shoots you a look of slight annoyance and shrugs.
You roll your eyes, gracelessly hopping onto his couch. Without a word, he topples onto you, settling his head on your lap as he flips through the front page of Netflix. You stroke your fingers through his curls. “You finish your work?”
“Yeah, you could say that,” Peter gripes.
“Is the Peter Parker slacking on his schoolwork?”
He grumbles and buries his face closer into your body, which makes your stomach flutter. “I finished everything, swear. Could probably spew out formulas in my sleep.”
“Get Tony to build you another EDITH but in reading glasses form. I’ll tap the answers to you. Or the formulas could probably just float across the lenses.” You steal the remote from him, much to his dismay and futile attempts to block you, and settle on a random episode of New Girl.
“Wow. We need more women in STEM like you.” You playfully smack the side of his face and it makes his nose scrunch up. Your fingers trace the freckles on his nose that aren’t very visible unless it’s the summer time, but you’re able to see them just from how close you are. The trance is broken at the vibration of your phone in your pocket, much to your relief.
He notices immediately how you chuckle at your screen, a smile lighting up your features. “Who’s that?”
“Um, Tinder message.”
“Can I see?” Peter asks, lifting his body to glance at your phone, though you swat him away. “Y/N, c’mon, I wanna see what goons are hitting on my best friend.”
“I don’t need your approval, Parker,” you giggle, holding your phone above your head. He intercepts it anyways, nearly falling into your lap and grabbing the phone. He blocks your squirming frame by laying his body on top of your sprawled out legs while his broad shoulders block your view.
“Tyler, 22, born and raised in Manhattan. Oh, please, business major? At NYU?” He swipes through the man’s pictures and squints. “‘You’ll probably see me hanging out with the dog at the party.’ Huh, how quirky and relatable of him.”
“Peter, give me my phone!” you half-laugh half-shriek, breathless from the fact that Peter’s weight is holding you down and preventing you from moving at all.
“Is he even your type? Seems like a dick honestly. You’re waaaay out of his league,” Peter muses mindlessly.
“And what exactly is my type, Parker?” Peter looks at you and opens his mouth, though nothing comes out. You smirk at him, able to flip him off of the couch and onto his carpet, snatching his phone from your phone as you sit on his chest. The two of you half-heartedly wrestle until you’re pinning him to the ground. “Tap out, motherfucker!”
“Ugh,” Peter huffs, sitting up slightly. “I’m serious, he looks like the president of a frat that’s on probation for some Title IX violations.”
“You’re an asshole,” you croon, shaking your head. “Let me get laid.”
Neither of you ever liked to address the pang of jealousy that came with seeing your best friend get attention from the opposite sex (okay, there were some girls enamored with you during your first semester of college, but you were too in your shell to actually follow through with anything). Secretly, Peter’s heart is dripping down to his shoes, but only slightly, of course. He’s laughing and teasing you the whole time, poking you in the ribs as you finally let him swipe through your Tinder. He sneaks a peek at your own profile, too, admiring how big and bright your eyes are in each photo — mostly which are photos he’s taken.
You’ve been on a few dates, give or take, but the end of the night is almost always instantly uncomfortable once things get physical. Peter Parker is like the devil on your shoulder, the New Moon-era Edward apparition to your Bella. You’ve been getting better at accepting that it’s him and always will be him. Even if you never have the guts to tell him.
i’ll wipe your blood off the concrete
take you to the party
we’ll drink until our brains black out
It’s past 8 pm when your texts to Peter quadruple. He’s usually very prompt and mindful in texting you back, especially when the two of you have plans to get Chinese takeout. The clock turns to ten when he finally answers.
peter: can you cpme get m
You swallow down your disappointment once you unlock your phone and the pit in your stomach is replaced with panic. Immediately, you tug on your shoes and grab your car keys.
“Peter!” you screech, seeing your battered friend on the concrete a few feet away from you. He’s struggling to breathe so he takes his mask off, exhaling heavily as he spits out a mixture of saliva and blood onto the pavement. Your eyes widen at the state of him — a bruise under his eye the shape of a crescent moon, a cut lip that’s still bleeding.
“Come here.” He’s able to get up, just barely, but he’s able to use you as a crutch as you usher him into your car. Luckily, this was a quiet neighborhood and your car was shielded by the dark alley. You wince at the sound of his groans in the backseat.
By the time you get to your apartment, his suit is completely off. You don’t expect to glance over to your backseat to see your best friend half-naked, though it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. It just makes something ache inside of you when you realize the damage of his wounds.
“What the fuck happened to you?”
“It’s okay! Just some attempted assault on some woman. It’s okay, NYPD came just in time.”
“Fuck NYPD,” you mutter under your breath. “I’m serious, Peter.”
“Shit,” Peter groans, clutching his side. The thought that enters your mind when you hear him is ungodly. “Fumbled the web-shooters so they were able to get the upper hand. Not to mention one of their buddies fucking… hit me with their car.”
“Jesus, Peter!” you exclaim. You can’t really berate him for getting hurt, though situations like this have you worried sick. You pull into your driveway and get out of the car to assist him.
“‘m sorry, y/n,” Peter huffs, grabbing your hand to support himself as he gets out of the car.
“Don’t apologize. This isn’t the first time you scared the shit out of me. I’m just glad you’re not dead.”
Peter darkly chuckles. Under the streetlight, his eyes look a bit amber, and the gaze he fixes on you isn’t something you can really fathom. It’s a look of tenderness. Your eyes dart to the other side of the street and back at him. “Stop staring, creep. Mrs. Wilkins will threaten to call my landlord if she sees me parading around a dude in his boxers at the dead of night.”
Peter shakes his head at you, laughing, but follows you into your home nonetheless. He follows you around like a stray cat as you rummage your bathroom for the first-aid kit. The glow of your bathroom light shows off your cheekbones, and he knows he can’t hide his affinity for you especially when you’re like this, tongue in your cheek focusing on the materials you have. He sits on the edge of your bathtub and watches you.
“Hydrogen peroxide, Neosporin, gauze…” you muse to yourself. Picking up the dark red bottle, you wiggle it towards him. “This is gonna sting.”
Pouring a bit onto a cotton round, you wipe it across his wounds gently. Peter braces himself but the stinging you warned is much worse than what he’s actually prepared for. “Fuck!” he cries out, his jaw clenching. He nearly hits you by accident but misses. He manages to stay still by holding your shoulder with his large hand, squeezing and cursing expletives. Your breath hitches at his strong grip. You could probably hear his heartbeat if he wasn’t breathing so hard. Your faces are inches apart as you rub his cheek, sliding your thumb down to his split lip.
“Um, here,” you stammer awkwardly, spreading Neosporin on his cheek and bandaging him up. You wrap gauze around his wrist and around his purple and red knuckle. “Hmm. Boxer vibes.”
“I’m already healing,” he shrugs, looking down at the blooming bruise on his chest. It was entering its stage of pale green already, which still freaked you out despite the fact you’d known about Spiderman for years. “Y’didn’t have to do all that. Thank you, though.”
“Anything for you,” comes out of your mouth without thinking. You try to stay casual with a tight smile but Peter’s eyes seem to flicker the slightest bit at your statement. You turn your heels to your bedroom to dig out some spare clothes of Peter’s that he tends to accidentally leave after he stays over. The habit has turned into him having his own drawer at your place. How domestic.
“You still going to that party?” Peter asks as he pulls on a pair of pants. Your back is turned, which is amusing for him considering how close you are. There was quite literally a picture of the two of you naked at the age of five on May’s mantle downstairs. However, he couldn’t help but notice how your eyes would mindlessly wander to his arms and stomach when he would talk to you lately. Maybe it was a fluke, but he liked — loved — holding your attention.
“The one at that senior’s house? I heard you talking about it with MJ.”
“Um, maybe, but I was too busy worrying about you, and I was under the impression that we were spending the night eating Chinese and watching horror movies. Why?”
“We should go.” You turn around and raise an eyebrow. Peter Parker liked socializing, you could say. He was enigmatic and adorable and easy to be around, but you know that he’d rather stay at home with his documentaries or Star Wars movies than getting shitfaced at a rando’s house.
“Peter, you just got the shit kicked out of you,” you mutter in disbelief.
“All the more reason,” he shrugs, walking past you to flop onto your bed. “You worry about me too much. Gotta let loose, babe.”
You scoff and roll your eyes. You always imagine yourself as a shadow compared to Peter, like a friendly apparition. Casper the ghost. It’s not that you’re an outcast — hell, Peter goes on and on about you to classmates and friends alike if they haven’t met you yet. You’ve never been friendless. But the thought of going to a party with Peter makes your stomach churn a bit. The few times you had, the two of you would be attached to the hip because of your shared shyness, but Peter’s evolved into someone who probably knew more people at university than you did. You didn’t want to be left alone. Slight anxiety settles over you. You look at him and his smile is pushing daisies up from the earth. You sigh. When you had said “anything for you”, you truly meant it.
You didn’t dislike parties, but any house party in the suburbs of New York felt like the setting of a bad rom-com, not to mention the good amount of losers you could attract by accidentally blinking their way.
“You look really pretty,” Peter whispers into your ear assuringly. You feel validated, yes, but also you’d be lying if you said that the feeling of Peter’s breath under your earlobe didn’t make your organs flip around in your body like primordial soup.
You frown at a mirror in the foyer. You had opted for a green printed mesh top that hugged your features, black jeans, and Peter’s old denim jacket. Peter follows your gaze and snakes a finger to your hair, twirling around a strand. “I mean it, Y/N.”
“AYYYY, PENIS PARKER!” roars from behind a couple making out. Lo and behold, Flash Thompson is suddenly in front of you, nestling a Corona in one hand and waving vinously at you two with another. He’s gotten taller somehow since the last time you saw him, which was quite literally graduation. You roll your eyes at his arrogance. To your surprise, Peter knocks fists with the kid and gives him a half-hearted side hug. “Oh, shit, dude what the fuck happened to your face?”
“This one right here gets a little too rowdy when she loses Monopoly,” Peter smiles, hanging an arm over your shoulders.
“Shut up,” you whisper, voice laced with venom as you shoot Peter a glare. “He’s lying. This one is just… incredible clumsy.”
“Jeez, she bite too? Hey, I know a guy who’s really into that kind of thing.”
“Okay, relax, Flash-your-tits,” you sneer.
“Wow, still the wicked witch of Forest Hills,” Flash retorts. His eyes scan you up and down, then to Peter’s arm around you. “Didn’t know you guys were a thing. When’d that happen?”
“We’re not—“ stumbles out of both your mouths in unison. Your face heats up immediately, though Peter is merely holding back a laugh.
“Right. Save your virginities, fellow comrades! It’s a scary world out there. ’s some liquor in the kitchen,” Flash slurs, immediately making eye contact with another poor soul who’s about to be subjected to a similar greeting.
“Freak,” you mutter under your breath as you saunter past a rowdy beer pong table. Without bothering to rummage through the stash that’s sat on the kitchen counter, you take the first bottle of cabernet sauvignon you see. Peter grabs a shot glass and pours himself some Tito’s.
He meets your eyes. “What?” he shrugs, knocking back the shot with a scrunched up face.
“Nothing, you just like, never drink,” you smirk. You decide to keep the wine for yourself — it was the cheap kind, anyway. You down a good amount so that you can get a little warmth into your stomach. The effect is slightly numbing.
“Yeah, but my metabolism’s all weird since the bite, remember? Surprised I haven’t tried to drink more. I think I’ve only been drunk like… once or twice?”
“Better go easy, there, Parker,” you tease, jabbing him in the ribs. He grunts just a bit and you gasp. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry.”
“Nah, ‘m just still a little sore. I could still take you in a fight,” Peter snickers. He grabs a red solo cup and fills it with more Tito’s, not paying attention to the amount he pours in, and then fills it to the brim with some orange juice. You practically gag at the sight. Vodka was never your forté and you were sure that it wasn’t much of Peter’s thing either. And yet, here he is. You wonder about his out of character desire to come to the party, but ultimately, shrug it off.
Seeing it feels like a kick in the throat, your face flushing hot like molten lava, chest creaking like a wooden floor in a haunted house. You didn’t expect to get everything you wanted, did you? Of course not. So it shouldn’t hurt that much to walk outside in need of that crisp autumn air and accidentally be met with some blonde eating off the face of your best friend. The love of your life. You don’t remember what time it is. You actually don’t even remember that you had been looking for Peter at all, but the realization hits you in the face once you recognize his brunette little head getting his hair pulled by some Walmart-brand Blake Lively.
and god you’re so pretty
your smile’s unforgiving
i’ll place it where nobody can find
You’re in too much shock to even beckon to him, but you know that the gears in your brain are turning with bells and whistles shrieking abort, abort, abort, abort! Before you can so as much turn around, Peter pulls away from the girl and yells for you. His face is carnation-pink, lips reddish from the girl’s lipstick. He’s waving at you like a little kid but your head feels like it’s underwater.
“Hey! Y/N! Been looking all over for you!”
Embarrassed, you wave back meekly before sliding back into the house. You hear hushed whispers of “shit, was that your fucking girlfriend?”, maybe a mild slap, Peter mumbling the words “best friend” and “not dating” and “what was your name again?” You could laugh if you didn’t feel like a literal hole was burning into your chest like the end of a cigarette charring flesh.
Calm, calm, calm. We are calm.
You don’t even know what to do with yourself, really. Your mantra isn’t helping and if you take one more sip of your wine you might as well throw up. Your eyes flash in surprise at MJ walking towards you, smiling but then settling her face into a confused frown.
“Hey, Y/N, is everything alr—“ MJ attempted to intervene, but you smile and nod your head maniacally as you pace through the house past her.
“I’m great! Fine. Um, I gotta go…”
You and MJ aren’t as close as you were in high school, but she knows well enough what you’re like when you’re in a state of crisis. She calls your name but you’ve dashed out of her grasp. She stares after you, puzzled, right before Peter nearly knocks into her, a collision of whiplash. The poor brunette stares wildly at the boy.
“Jesus, Parker, are you good?”
“MJ! Hi!” Peter exhales. His eyes are the size of flying saucers. He grips MJ’s shoulders and doesn’t realize the volume of his voice, which makes spectators around them look on curiously. “Listen, have you seen Y/N? I gotta talk to her.”
“Um, yeah, she went that way… dude, are you drunk?”
“No! Yes? All the above,” he replies hurriedly, moving into the foyer and up the stairs.
You can’t really explain your emotions, process them even, so you do give into the wine bottle. Might as well detonate the bomb. Before Peter can call after you, you escape his field of vision in the hallway and immediately slip into the upstairs bathroom without him seeing you.
You stare at your reflection. There’s no point in crying, you think. Peter’s too good at prying and you’re too bad at explaining. It’s best not to worry him. Isn’t it? You want to believe you’re capable of staying sane with your little crush. Your stupid unrequited crush. You realize you’d have to reach into your guts and rip out all that you feel for Peter in order to get over it. It was best to drown out all those feelings now until you passed out. Maybe Michelle could take you home. Or a kind stranger could seduce you. Or you ‘accidentally’ fall out of the window and escape Peter’s questioning by being in a literal coma for a few days so you forget the image of him kissing that girl that’s burned into your brain.
You frown at your reflection. You look pretty, Peter was right. It’s a miracle your makeup is still intact. Your underlies are smudged a bit but the glitter on your cheekbones reflects even with this shitty bathroom lighting. With the alcohol inside you, everything seems to melt, like the walls are sweating and closing in on you. Before you’re able to control your breathing, the sound of your name reaches your ears like a harsh wind. It’s coming from your favorite voice in the whole world. Pounding on the door ensues.
“It’s… it’s occupied, sorry,” you caution in a high voice.
“Y/N, I know that’s you in there! Can you please let me in?” Peter begs. More raps on the door. You stay silent, staring at the sink.
“Please, Y/N, something bad’s happened… MJ’s…um…” Peter yells. You furrow your brows in worry. God, I can’t get a break. What a cursed fucking party.
Profanities are mumbled to yourself as you finally open the door. Peter rushes in and backs you into the wall, shutting the door promptly behind him and locking it. You gasp at how quickly he manages this without the two of you colliding, his swift movement and your intoxicated state dizzies you. Peter settles his palms on the wall, trapping you in between his arms.
“What happened to Michelle?” you glower. Peter sighs with a look of defeat and avoids your gaze.
“Nothing. Just needed you to let me in.”
“You asshole,” you roll your eyes and vociferate. Your teeth are gritted — you can’t bear to look at his face, but you do. Peter’s puppy dog brown eyes are boring into yours with desperation behind them. He takes his palm from the left of you and tilts your chin up, to which you shake your head in rejection.
“Hey, hey, look at me.” So you do. Your faces are inches away from each other. You can feel his hot breath in your face. It makes your body feel even hotter.
“What do you want, Peter?” you whisper.
“Want to talk to you,” he slurs.
“Okay, so talk.”
“Why were you running away from me?”
You scoff. You almost want to tell him the truth, but you can’t. “I’m in a bad mood,” you mumble. “I don’t need this right now, okay? I want to be alone. Why don’t you go back to that blondie? She seems to like you an awful lot.”
“Who— what? Are you… are you jealous?”
“Who you take home is none of my business, Parker, I swear on my heart. I’m a big girl, I can get an Uber by myself. Don’t worry about it,” you spit back at him. “Okay? Can I be left alone, please?”
“But I wanna be alone with you,” he confesses, absentmindedly twisting your hair between his fingers again. You didn’t think anything of it until now because this is something he always does. It’s as easy to him as breathing or blinking. But at the moment, he’s staring at your collarbone and your neck and the side of your jaw. You make eye contact with him and you gulp. Lipstick is smeared from the corner of his mouth like a streak of wine on a white sheet. The space between you feels like television static, like a red string you’re dying to pull into a knot to close the distance.
Instead, Peter does it for you. You blink once and his mouth is on yours, and you taste the other girl’s lipstick and mandarin oranges and a hint of copper from his bloody lip. You breathe in the smell of your own shampoo, which Peter keeps in his apartment for you even though he secretly uses it when you’re not around. His hand is gripped to your jaw, tongue peeking into your mouth as he pushes into your body. The hurt inside you crawls out of your throat and spreads your body like a blessing instead — a baptism, a rebirth.
His hands are to your sides now, pushing the mesh fabric of your shirt up so he can palm the skin of your upper hip. You sigh into him as he massages the skin lightly and he responds to your sounds with a subtle moan. You feel like your knees are buckling to his touch as your heat gets wetter and wetter.
“Touch me, Y/N,” Peter whispers in between your kisses. A whine emits from the back of his throat when you tug on his hair just slightly.
You pull away suddenly, though Peter doesn’t see this as a halt. He simply peppers wet kisses to your earlobe and down your neck. You sigh deeply and give him a slight push to the chest.
“What, what’s wrong?” he whispers. He’s drunk on you, maybe literally considering he lost count of how many shots he’d taken. He looks like an angel like this, brown hair mussed up with smoothed out curls falling over his face and a just-bitten pair of pink lips.
You touch the band-aid on his face. “You’re drunk, Peter.”
“Yeah? I know. So are you.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t want you to regret anything,” you mumble, biting the inside of your bottom lip.
“I couldn’t… I won’t. You know how much I love you, right?” Peter pleads. He’s breathless at the sight of you. You look away.
“Don’t say shit like that, Peter. You’d… you’d never say that sober.” Hurt flashes over Peter’s face as he listens to your words. He wants you to believe him so badly and he’s too drunk to process what you could be feeling. All he feels is that he wants to be absorbed into you at this very moment. His brain doesn’t even register the actions that made you upset in the first place.
“That’s not true, Y/N, you know that,” he urges. His thumb swipes over your inner eye, where a salty tear has fallen. His voice is hoarse, raspy, raw. “I only want you.”
You close your eyes and shake your head, tears flooding your cheeks that he tries to kiss away gently. “Why are you doing this?” you croak.
“What am I doing, baby?” he whispers, taking you in his arms and cradling you. Your cheek is against his warm chest and you can feel his beating heart. It ticks like a clock, which somehow comforts you in the most minuscule way. His tender knuckles are on your hair, stroking lightly. Peter wants to find every jagged piece of you so that he can soothe it like nighttime tea and a spoonful of honey. Would you hate him for it?
“This is fucked up, Peter.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” is whispered through hushed breaths against your hair. You pull back over a few minutes, embarrassed at how red your eyes must look. He cups his hands on your cheeks, tilting your face to look up at him. “I’m not lying to you. I… I love you so much that it scares me sometimes because you’re my best friend. I always get scared that I’m gonna lose you. And… and I don’t even know that girl. The one I was making out with. I think I just needed a distraction from you.”
An awkward beat.
“I don’t know why I got so drunk. I think because patrol was so fucked up and I’ve been having more nightmares, and I was scared that if I told you I loved you tonight that I’d fuck everything up, and I wouldn’t remember, and I couldn’t find you anywhere…”
You shush his rambles with your lips against his.
“I love you, too,” you whisper, wiping your eyes. “Always have. It scares me too.”
“Yes, you idiot, I thought it was obvious. You scare the shit out of me sometimes.” The two of you laugh darkly at your mutual drunken states. Your mutual confessions, the fear of your mutually assured destructions. The moment was making your heart swell up like a balloon.
A rude awakening breaks through with a pounding on the door. “HEY, ARE YOU GUYS DONE FUCKING? SOME OF US HAVE TO PISS.”
The two of you are broken out of your spell. You both erupt into laughter. You wipe your face with your sleeve as you open the door. Your toothy smile flashes the unfortunate spectator when you open the door.
Flash stands there with a look on his face that is both bewildered and somehow dopey. His eyes flit between you and Peter, mouth agape.
“All yours, babe,” you taunt, holding Peter’s hand as he follows you across the hall.
i’ll be your old broken tv
your stuttering baby
your puppy when nobody’s home
He can barely take his hands off you once you get the door of your apartment unlocked. Immediately, his hands are all over you, pushing up your top to reveal your stomach. He kisses you roughly which has your head spinning.
“Peter… I—“ you giggle in-between kisses. He can’t detach himself from you. He doesn’t want to. He takes matters into his own hands and rips your jacket off for you, picking you up effortlessly so that your legs are around his waist until both of your bodies collapse into your bed.
You feel like you have motion sickness. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the uneasiness of letting yourself fall blind into Peter’s desires. He knows how stubborn you are about literally everything and he doesn’t know how to fully convince you how much he wants you. He’s hovering over your body, forehead to forehead, pawing at your clothed body. “You’re so pretty,” he says, thumbing your cheek.
His eyes are glistening like the earth wet from being kissed by autumn rain. You swear to yourself it’s just lust but you know this is exactly how he looks at you when you’re just there. Existing. In his room, on his lap, on his fire escape in the middle of the night. You’ve always noticed but decided you’ve made it up in your head. But he really does love you like this, vulnerable and soft like a cherub out of heaven. He could certainly get used to the sight of you underneath him. His mouth turns up into a grin.
“What’s got you so happy?” you coo.
“You,” he breathes, dipping his head back down to meet your mouth.
“Cool,” you mumble in between your kisses, sighing as you feel Peter massage little circles underneath the hem of your shirt. “What’re you thinking about?”
“Mmm, lots,” Peter sighs. “There’s this girl… thought she’d never… like me back. But I think she does.”
“Tell me about her.”
“Well, she’s a hard one to chase down, y’know? She’s too pretty and smart for literally anyone. And she’s really good at playing with my hair, and knowing everything I like, and beating me during a wrestling match. And she smells like flowers. And looks like flowers.”
“Hmm, sounds like a catch,” you flash him a candy-sweet smile. The glow between you two is bioluminescent. Every part of you that Peter touches feels like electricity.
“Mhm. That you are,” Peter nods. He’s feeling feverish, sobering up from his many shots but still drunk on the sight of you. In the past few months, Peter feels like he’s only present between peripherals and the only time he is even remotely tuned in to the world is when you’re beside him. His mind is swamped with only you and your kiss tastes like honey dripping into his mouth.
A low hum reverberates from your throat as you feel Peter’s lips on your neck. He settles back to your lips like he’s diving underwater. He doesn’t care about coming back up for air. Your brows knit in concentration as you try to pull him closer, despite the fact he’s basically falling through you like a spell. Your brain is begging him to devour you, burn you, lick up all the hurt inside your chest from the night.
“Can I touch you, please?” Peter asks carefully, his voice low.
You nod fervently, heart beating out of your chest when you’re suddenly aware of how hard he is. Peter helps you slip out of your shirt and your jeans, leaving you in your underwear. He can barely breathe. He chuckles like he’s seeing something that shouldn’t be possible.
“Don’t laugh when you just stripped me naked, freak,” you chastise, covering yourself up with your arms.
“‘m not teasing you. I’m… I just can’t believe it. How pretty you are.”
“Shut up and touch me, Parker.” Peter feigns a look of seriousness before attaching his lips to your bare stomach. He loves the way your body seems to react to his touch, breaths rising and falling to the pitter-patter of his heartbeat and his fluttered eyelashes. He teases you with kisses close to your center, descending down your thighs. You whine at how sensitive you feel, coaxing his head forward with your hands.
“Okay, needy,” he taunts, which makes you pout in response. He slides your underwear down your legs and doesn’t hesitate to lap you up at your clit. You gasp in response. He’s ravenous in the way he works, responding to all your little sounds by gripping your thighs harder until you’re nearly bruising. Your mouth gapes open wider when he slides in one finger, then two into your pussy, your wetness making his entrance easy.
“Jesus, fuck, where did you learn that?” you ask breathlessly as he pumps his fingers in and out of you in all the right places.
“Secret,” he murmurs, pausing his sucking to curl his fingers into your walls in a way that makes your insides flip. You immediately feel a pressure inside your core that slowly rises like a rollercoaster rolling upwards on a track. He brings his tongue back to your bud and scissors his fingers in a way that makes your hips buck upwards, which makes him lose his balance a bit. He chuckles, adoring the sound of your moans and the way your long eyelashes blink rapidly like a butterfly’s wings.
“Say my name,” he groans, desperate to hear your voice.
“Fuck,” you moan. “Fuck— Peter, just like that. Oh my God, Peter!”
He decides right then that his name sounds like it was made for your mouth, how it sounds like a hymn, a magic spell, a word invented by you, his creator. You grab fistfuls of his chestnut curls as you feel your body plunge into saccharine warmth. You surprise yourself with your restrained moans; you don’t recognize the sound of your voice. Peter’s moans echo yours as he watches you come undone. His lips part at the way you come, gazing at the way your body flexes like a viscous liquid, hair fanning the sides of your face like Juliet on a bed of roses.
“Peter!” you strain, breathing heavily on the comedown. You blink at him, bleary-eyed, tasting yourself on his tongue once he reaches up to kiss you again. “Take your clothes off. ’s not fair that I’m fully naked and you aren’t.”
“Anything for you,” he says, echoing your words from earlier that night. You think that maybe you’re melting or you’ve been struck by lightning. Peter blesses you for your request because his cock is quite literally straining against his jeans. He can’t believe you’re real — that this version of you is real and right in front of him, instead of being a dizzying made-up thought in his brain. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t fantasize about what your pussy feels like, how you’d sound with your toes curling into the mattress as he fucks into you. He’d always shake the thought of you after he comes when he’s alone, embarrassed after his orgasms when he’d come back to reality. But now he doesn’t have to. You’re fulfilling his dreams at this very moment.
Not even thirty seconds pass before he’s stripped just like you. Your mouth waters at the sight of him. You’re convinced he must be carved from Ancient Rome, porcelain skin and smooth edges. His size is certainly unexpected and you’re shy about how your eyes are probably bugging out of their sockets.
“Do you… do you want me to get a condom?” he asks you, voice cracking slightly. You’re reminded of how boyish he really is, how despite everything, he’s always been your Peter. Your puppy, your best boy. You nod at him and grin. “Right… ah— where are they?”
“Under the bed, blue shoebox.”
He comes back from under the bed and rips the silver foil. He toys with it for a second, awkwardly. “Ah, this is… a good brand. Very safe.”
“Yeah, good reviews?” you gush at his awkwardness.
“Like I’d know,” Peter blushes and shrugs. You know that Peter’s not a virgin but he’d never been the type to be cocky or promiscuous. It was you in senior year of high school who broke down where a woman’s clitoris was, after all. You playfully hit him, urging him to continue. He nods sheepishly.
“Wait, do you want me to… do you want head, too?” you ask curiously.
He shakes his head, sliding the condom onto his length. “No, ‘m okay. Just want to be inside you really bad.”
You kiss him hard, and to his surprise, you push him onto his back. His eyes widen at your shift in attitude and newfound dominance. His taut mouth widens when you push down onto him, going up and down at an agonizingly slow pace as you grip his shoulders. “Oh, fuck.”
You respond graciously with a breathy sigh, eyes closed as you grind against him. “Fuck, that feels really good,” he whispers. “Gonna be the death of me.”
“That’s why they call it la petite mort, yeah?” you smirk. You start to grind faster and Peter’s eyes screw shut, mouth slack in a blissful fashion. He grips your hips harder and gives your ass a light smack as he groans.
“Ass man, aren’t you?” you tease. “Figured you were more into tits.”
“Can’t talk, feels too good,” Peter mumbles. He palms your breast with one hand in response to you, which makes you giggle. “Please don’t tease me at a vulnerable time like this.”
Your laughter is like music to his ears. He looks at you with a dark expression on his face, a sort of pained desperation that secretly begs you to wreck him. He wishes he could tell you that you could have him in any way possible, but he figures that the enormity of his desire would scare you away. Peter caresses your cheek and your head lulls backward at the elation of him inside you. Teasing a finger on your bottom lip, you take his finger into your mouth and suck on it gently. He feels like he’s about to lose it. It’s a miracle he’s even lasting this long, he thinks to himself. He swore he almost came when he was just giving you head.
“Jesus fucking christ,” Peter breathes. The aura of you is everywhere in the room, the smell of your skin permeating his senses. He can’t get enough. You’re surprised by how vocal he is and it kind of makes you feel a bit cocky. His lips are slick and swollen from your love bites and you can’t help but admire how he looks underneath, curls loose over his warm forehead.
“Fuck, hold on. Can I do something?” he asks, his eyes doe-like. You nod quickly. “Can, um, can you get on your stomach?”
You oblige to his request. You nearly choke when he fills you up from behind, his hands cradling your hips. He’s slow with his thrusts at first, wanting to be careful to both control himself and to make sure he doesn’t hurt you. He reaches you at a deep angle and you nearly scream out, which encourages Peter to rock his hips a bit faster. “Oh my god, Peter!”
Your head twists slightly so you can see his face. He reaches over immediately to kiss you, holding you by the chin forcefully as he pulls your hips towards him. His hand stays wrapped around your throat as he bends over to pepper kisses to your neck and down your back. A finger rests on your bottom lip that you take into your mouth. He moans at the feeling of it.
“Fuck, you’re gonna… make me come soon…” you breathe. You whine as he pulls your hair slightly to get better access to the side of your neck.
“Fuck, I fucking love you,” Peter pants. His breath is hot beneath your ear and it makes you shiver. His hushed curses are like little love notes spilling onto your shoulder. “My favorite girl.”
Your face falls into your bedsheets once he hits your sweet spot repeatedly. Your whole body vibrates at the feeling of it as you grip your sheets hard enough to strain your knuckles. Tears are pricking from the corners of your eyes on impact. Your orgasm is white-hot, blinding, paradisiacal.
“Hey, hey, hey, are you okay?” Peter whispers worriedly, slowing down his strokes and wiping your face gently.
“Yes,” you moan, shutting him up with a kiss. He pulls out of you and melts into your lips, the wave of your orgasm and the tenderness in your chest igniting a small fire in the pit of your stomach. The two of you are side to side now, limbs entangling one another in a blob of lust and warm bodies and languished breaths. He’s confused at your husky laughter but stays attached to your mouth, tasting you in all your sugared glory. The taste of blood pools into your mouth again and you pull back slightly. You lick his bottom lip carefully, lacing his mouth with your sweetness.
You smile devilishly at the red marks on his neck, marks that you left. He rubs his neck and it’s like he’s blushing all over, because he knows that although he’ll complain about the hickies in the morning, he feels blessed to have any remnants of you on his body. A burn, a bruise, a red stamp on his forehead with your name on it. He doesn’t care.
“You wanna stop?” he questions. He traces shapes on your hip, then letters. I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U.
You shake your head. “No, I want you to come. I want to see your face when you come inside me.”
The alcohol has definitely worn off but he still feels intoxicated in your presence. How can someone look like that? he wonders. You’re underneath him now, bright-eyed in anticipation. He licks his lips, amber eyes wide like a puppy. He wants to come — no, needs to — but he also is entertaining the idea of holding himself in so he can hear you orgasm ten more times.
“C’mon, Spidey,” you whisper, pulling his length towards you. He slides in slowly and exhales like it’s the first time again. You sigh dreamily, eyelashes fluttering at the halcyon feeling of warmth inside you. You feel so fucking full. Your nails dig into his muscular back as he moves faster, and the feeling is so euphoric that you’re sinking your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your screams.
“Oh, shit,” Peter sputters, whispering your name like it’s a poem he’s memorized. You nearly are a poem he’s memorized and it feels like heaven and more that he’s able to experience your body in this capacity — every inch, every curve. He’s about to be pushed to the edge once he hears you stutter his name mindlessly.
“Peter, Peter, Peter… f-fuck… gonna come again…”
Your back arches as shockwaves course through your body and suddenly Peter is gripping you from your hair to your shoulder hard enough to almost hurt in the best way possible. His knees buckle as he releases his come into you and you’re coming up for air after hearing his guttural moans and whines.
“Ffffuuuuckkkk,” Peter cries out, murmuring your name over and over like it’s the only word he knows.
You clutch his body like he’s a fallen hero (ha ha) and push the hair from his forehead, pecking him with kisses all over his face. His face is warm and so is his smile — so pretty, so unforgiving.
“We should do that, like, all the time,” he sighs, flopping his head onto your chest. You giggle, pulling him in your arms. His body is like a weighted blanket. He purrs at the feeling of your fingers through his hair.
i’ll be your cigarette ashtray
come back when it’s too late
worship you til morning comes
It was an annoying habit of yours. For some reason, your biological clock decided that when you got really drunk, you wouldn’t sleep in. Instead, like clockwork, you’d wake up at the crack of dawn.
Your eyes squint at your phone. 7:09 am. You groan, turning your body away from the sunrise that was perching itself higher and higher into the sky. The body next to you stirs at your movements, mumbling something unintelligible and laying an arm over your frame.
Your eyes flutter open to see Peter’s face, angelic and blue-tinged in the dimness of your room. His breaths are slow and quiet. You want to trace his cheekbones and his slightly crooked nose but you’re afraid to wake him, so you settle for a longing gaze.
“Morning,” he whispers, making you wince. His eyes are still closed but his mouth turns upwards into a smile.
“Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“Maybe, but I’m a light sleeper.” His pupils are blown out and black when he opens his eyes. He takes his hand and strokes your hair, inching over to your face and peppering a chaste kiss to your nose. He waits a second, then gives you a more passionate kiss on the mouth.
“Mmm. Morning breath,” you chuckle lightly.
“Hey,” he pouts. “That’s not how I like to be dirty-talked.”
You’re used to waking up next to Peter but the sight of him now is something new. He’s grown into his body and the way he looks naked right now, wrapped in your comforter… it’s like an alternate universe fr you. The sound of his morning voice is slightly raspy and low and you absolutely adore it.
“‘m not getting you off right now,” you mumble. “Make me breakfast first.”
He groans dramatically. He pulls you closer so that your nose is nestled into his warm chest. “Nope. Haven’t slept in like twenty-six hours, baby. Sweet dreams.”
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— kinktober day fifteen.
welcome everyone to my first ever kinktober collab with my bff @leydileyla <3 we have both been super into marvel lately so we decided to do a marvel edition, hopefully everyone will enjoy!
**In order not to miss any of the smutty goodness please follow @leydileyla as well, you wont regret it!
pairing: peter parker / fem!reader
genre: smut / pwp
wordcount: 1.6 k
warnings: established relationship, dom!peter, sub!reader, mild petplay, collaring, oral (giving), facefucking, mild cum eating, peter calling you pet
characters aged up to be 21!
Your heart pounds loudly against your chest. Your legs feel wobbly. You climb on top of the bed and get on your knees as you eye yourself in the mirror. Sadly, you weren’t as confident as you should be in your plan to impress Peter. A week ago he had jokingly called you his pet and after witnessing how much you enjoyed being called as such, Peter often joked about getting you a collar for more intimate times.
Your eyes fixate on your reflection. With a moment of bravery you had bought yourself a pretty red harness lingerie set, at the time you liked how it looked on the model. It just looked cute. You take in a long breath, the pink strips surrounded your breasts and acted as a frame with a ribbon in the middle. The garter belt connected to the ones on your legs and had a nice cute little ribbon on top of each of your thighs, exposing your ass and pussy completely. To top it all off you had bought yourself a thick collar that covered most of your neck. It was pretty much the same shade of red but a bit darker from the lingerie set. It had a shiny metal heart in the middle of it and the inside was lined with soft fur that made your skin sing in bliss. You had also got a leash to go along with it.
You hear the outer door of your shared apartment creak open and hold your breath. You gulp and avert your eyes away from the reflection in the mirror.
“Y/n!” you hear Peter call out to you. “Where are you?”
You have to clear your throat before you call back to him.
“In the bedroom!”
Heavy footsteps get louder and louder as he gets closer, the door swiftly opens and your heart stops. Peter’s eyes widen the moment he sees you, his eyes scan you and you feel your body starting to heat up under his intense gaze. He takes a step inside and closes the door behind him, the tip of your ears start to burn and you quickly shift your gaze to the floor.
You can feel his presence right in front of you, his breath hitches as he touches the side of your cheek with the back of his hand. His touch burns your skin as it travels down in a slow motion. He reaches the collar and hooks a finger, feeling the soft fur inside he hums. You still can’t look at him, your heart is beating mad and you just feel yourself sweating. Peter traces the metal heart with his thumb and chuckles. His voice is soft, low and reminds you of warm honey.
“Is this for me?” he asks, his hand now sliding down the leash. “I like the color you picked.”
“Y-Yeah,” you take in a shaky breath. “Well I thought since a certain someone’s costume is red, I-I should match it--”
“Hopefully this is for Peter Parker and not Spiderman,” he teases but you can’t help but take offense and look at him.
“Of course it’s for you, besides I’m not sure it’s healthy to be jealous of your alter ego--”
You realize the way his lips curl upward, the way he tilts his head to the side-- He's amused that you took the bait and snapped. Suddenly breathing is more difficult, you quickly turn your gaze back to the floor and you hear him chuckle.
“Hey, look at me.”
You can’t not do something when he says it in such a soft voice. Biting your bottom lip, you ever so slowly lift your gaze back up. When your eyes lock on each other it feels like time stops. There’s a deep hunger in his eyes, his pupils blown wide with interest. The gaze alone makes a shiver run up your spine and with a smile stretching across his handsome features, you know that he knows.
“Such an obedient girl,” he leans down and brushes his lips against yours as he wraps the leash around his hand. “You spoil me way too much.”
With that he closes the distance and slides his tongue between your soft lips. The way he slowly explores the inside of your mouth and the way he dances along with your tongue makes you feel like you’re melting. His free hand touches your cheek and his thumb goes in circles around your skin with a feather-like touch. You feel dizzy, aroused and your body has goosebumps all over.
Peter parts away from you and both of you are left breathless with a string of saliva still connecting your lips. He smirks at the way you look at him, so hungry, so needy for him to touch you. With the leash wrapped around his hand he pulls you up off the bed, the collar presses against your skin and the fur tickles your skin as you get up. You stand before him and he observes your body, your breasts plump and legs trembling. He leans down and gives one of your perky nipples a wet sloppy kiss and let’s his tongue twirl around the nipple. Your throat vibrates with a needy moan.
“God you’re so perfect,” Peter says, his mouth still latched on to your nipple. “Such a good pet. You’re hungry to suck my cock aren’t you?”
You can’t speak so you just nod instead, loosening the leash he gives you room to get on your knees. The floor is uncomfortable but you don’t care, the only thing you can focus on is the prominent tent that had formed under Peter’s pants. Mouth watering, you undo the zipper and pull down his pants along with his underwear. Licking your lips you look up to him as you smear the precum over the tip and slide your hand down along his length. You could feel the vein on his cock throbbing against your palm, his tip such a beautiful shade of pink, you wrap your lips around it. Your tongue swirls, a deep throaty groan leaving Peter’s lips, he tightens his grip on the leash and pulls you closer and as a result makes you take in more of his cock.
“Good girl,” he purrs. “Open up your mouth more.”
You do as he says and spread your lips even further, thrusting Peter almost completely buries himself into your mouth. You flatten your tongue and let the underside of his cock slide in and out of your mouth. Spit mixed with precum dribbled down from the corner of your chin as your cunt clenches around nothing. Muffled moans vibrate your throat and you stare up at him with half lidded eyes. Peter’s whole focus was on you, his cheeks bright red and his bottom lip stuck between his teeth. He looks absolutely gorgeous as he fucks your mouth.
“Shit…ahh…y/n,” he moans, tongue lolling out of his mouth. “You feel so good. I-I need more.”
You wanted to tell him not to hold back, but the cock in your mouth pretty much made that impossible. Then you decide to use your actions as words.
You lunge forward and take every inch of him down your throat. Your gag reflex is sending signals to your brain but you manage to push them into the back of your mind and take in deep breaths. His cock throbs against the back of your throat and a whine leaves Peter’s lips as he takes a fistful of your hair. You can feel the soft pubes tickling the underneath of your nose and his balls feel heavy against your chin. He seems to get what you’re telling him and he pulls back and snaps his hips forward once more. Your eyes water and breathing becomes harder but you ignore it all, tonight you were nothing other then Peter’s perfect little pet, his perfect little fuck hole.
His balls slaps against your chin as he continues to fuck your mouth, his nails bite into your scalp and tears fall heavy from your eyes. Peter reaches out and wipes a tear from your eye and brings the finger up to his lips and licks it with a devilish smirk. Your eyes widen as his thrusts get faster. The lewd noises of squelching and slapping fills the bedroom as he uses your mouth for his satisfaction. You can feel him twitching inside, his cock thick and burning the inside of your mouth. Your chin starts to ache.
“Ahh…y/n, I’m cumming.” his breath hitches. “You’re a good pet right? You’ll take it all for me, yeah?”
His question is followed by a tug on your leash and him pushing your head down his length. A silent scream tears away from your throat and vibrates around his cock, you can’t breathe, Peter’s completely buried inside your mouth, his cum spurting from the tip and dripping down your throat. With loud gulps you swallow, his cum is bittersweet and heavy on your throat and you can’t help but let some of it spill to the floor, the white sticky fluid forms a puddle and Peter clicks his tongue with disapproval.
“Look at the mess you made,” he says as he pulls out. You coughed as your lungs celebrated the fact that you could finally breathe. “Clean it up.”
Peter’s tone is patronizing and he looks down at you between squinted eyes. With a whine you do as you’re told and crouch down to the floor, with kitten licks you clean up the mess you made and immediately look back up to him, awaiting his approval.
“Good girl,” he hums as he tugs on your leash, gesturing you to get up. “Now it’s time for the main dish, right my pet?”
“Of course,” you reply, breathless. “This is all for you after all.”
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The Red Sea
Peter Parker x afab!reader
Summary: reader is on their period, and Peter helps them
Word count: 427
A/N: Wrote this cause I’m on my period rn, and I really need Peter Parker to make me feel better
It was a normal day. A great day even. Until you laughed too hard, and felt the familiar feeling between your legs.
Now you’re at home, curled up in a ball in bed, wrapped up super tight in a million blankets, scrolling through your phone.
A soft knock on your door makes you look away from your phone. Who in the actual fuck wants to talk to you when you’re bleeding out?
“Hi,” says a shy voice from behind the door.
“Peter Parker, what the fuck do you want?”
“I’m gonna take that as an invite to come inside.” The door opens, and your boyfriend walks in, holding a huge bag. He closes the door behind him. “Yay, you’re alive,” he says, spotting you.
“What’s wrong?” he walks next to your bed, and sits down next to you, checking your forehead for a temperature.
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault. I’m sorry for being mean when you knocked,” you say, pulling yourself up.
“It’s fine, love,” he reaches for the bag you saw earlier, and pulls out all your favourite snacks, and a small heating pad.
You stare at it for a few seconds, and Peter notices. “Aunt May told me the reason you might not have been the…nicest lately is cause of your period.”
“I’m really sorry I wasn’t the nicest to you.”
“You’re literally bleeding out, and in a lot of pain. I can handle you telling me to fuck off.”
Smiling, you lean over to kiss your amazing boyfriends cheek. God you love this boy.
He blushes a bit, and pulls the covers over him, lying down a bit, and handing you the heating pad.
This fucking boy thought of everything. The pad was already warm, and ready to use.
You settle down next to him, and put the pad on your stomach. He hands you a snack steals one from you and then turns on a movie on his phone.
After an hour, he notices you fell asleep, and removes the heating pad, choosing instead to use his hands to rub light circles into the areas he googled would help.
In your sleep there’s a gentle smile spread across your lips. Peter swears every time he looks at you, he falls in love with you all over again.
Hoping you’re still asleep, and won’t hear him, he whispers a quiet “I love you”, before closing his eyes, and trying to fall asleep.
How foolish of this boy to think you didn’t hear him say “I love you” for the first time…
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love language | m.list
➼ summary: an unrelated series of drabbles highlighting memorable moments from your domestic life with peter <3
➼ genre: established relationship, aged up au, minor angst, fluff!
➼ note: drabbles are unrelated, there is no particular order.
drabbles coming soon!
➼ please note! i will be taking requests based on a couple prompt lists! by the way, if you have any cute ideas of your own regarding domestic fluff that is not on the prompt list, you can send them in! i'll let you know if i'm interested in writing them! do make sure that it's short enough to fit in a drabble tho!
i cannot guarantee that i'll write all requests i receive in my inbox but i'll try my best! keep in mind i am busy with school, writing is not my priority. i am simply writing a couple drabbles whenever i get time.
➼ link to prompt lists → [x] [x] [x]
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it's good to see you / t.h
pairing -> tom holland x singer!reader
warning -> fluff
summary -> tom comes to surprise you after a while without seeing you
. ｡ ˚ ✧‧.‧ ♡ ‧˚ ‧ .
You and Tom haven't seen each other for about 3 months because of your busy schedules and you miss him terribly.
Your group was active at the moment between the promotions of your new album and the concerts, it was very hard to see each other.
Tom was sick of not seeing you for so long so he decided to go see you.
He was arriving at the airport to catch his flight to Seoul, the members of your group knew he wanted to see you, so Tom to contact your group to find out where you are.
He arrives at Seoul airport, he pulls out his phone to call a member of your group.
"Hey ?", "Hey! It's Tom, I arrived at the airport, I'm waiting for you in front of the entrance as we said".
"Oh ok, I'll be there in 10 minutes don't move."
Tom was waiting in front of the airport, he was talking to you by message but he was not telling you anything about his plan, he wanted it to be a surprise.
"Tom!" Tom looked up to see your friend walking towards him.
"Hey!" They said hello to each other and headed for the car.
They arrived in front of the hotel where your group is staying for a little while, she gave Tom double the pass for your room, they said goodnight and left each other.
Tom went up to the second floor in front of your bedroom door.
He passes the pass in front of the scanner and opens the door.
Your friend had said that you were not yet in your room and that you were walking around town, Tom puts down his things and decides to take his phone to check on you.
You told him that you were in town and that you would come back to the hotel in 10 min but you still did not know anything that he was in your room, in your bed waiting for you to finally see you after months without hugs, without kisses, without affection.
Tom could only be happy to see you, he waited impatiently for your return.
After 10 minutes of waiting, you open the door saying goodbye to your friend who went to her own room.
You didn't notice tom yet until you turned on the light.
You looked up, then you saw your man you loved so much.
You couldn't believe it, he was in front of you after long months without seeing each other, you two.
"Tom ?" "Oh my god I-".
"Hello my love". Tom said, approaching you and hugging you.
You just wanted to stay that way for the rest of your life.
"You are finally here". "Yes I am here dear in the flesh". He joked, stepping back from you.
But you wrapped your arms around her waist again.
"I missed you so much Tom."
"Me too my love, so much".
You looked him in the eye with a loving look, and you kissed him, it was a passionate, sweet, loving, slow kiss.
Your boyfriend in front of you, after 5 months of absence ? It's incredible.
"I love you Tom". "Me too, more than anything y/n".
"Let's go to bed y/n, it's super late and fifteen hours of flight is not nice". He said dramatically.
You wanted to enjoy him as much as possible and never leave him again.
. ｡ ˚ ✧‧.‧ ♡ ‧˚ ‧ .
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☕️ the coffeeshop: week 5 ☕️
Welcome back, bubs! Let’s get these recommendations again! This week’s flavour is a popular one: roommates AU! Until Friday October 22nd, feel free to send your favourite stories with roommates as the main AU for any of the Tom Holland & Co boys (Harry, Sam, Tuwaine, Harrison) + Peter Parker and Arvin Russell.
☕️ Please remember before sending an ask:
1. The fic must be x reader, regardless of reader’s sex;
2. The fic must contain at least two (2) lines of explicit feedback;
3. You must include the fic’s title, pairing, and the author’s URL;
4. If you’re an author recommending your own fic, you must also recommend another person’s story and provide feedback!
Feel free to send me any of your questions if you have any or want any further explanations. If you want to be tagged in each masterlist, add yourself to the taglist here.
― 🧸🍯 RECOMMENDATIONS
none yet, recs will be out on friday!
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Rings, Rings, Rings -> Peter Parker
pairings: peter parker x reader
desc: in which your boyfriends newfound love towards jewellery affects you more than you expected
warnings: swearing, the most nsfw thing i’ve done, sex mentions, hand kink, dirty talk, choking, ring kink(?), hint of dom!peter, nicknames of pure filth
a/n: this is filth. it’s not all the way smut but oh my god it’s pure filth. if there were any mind readers in sainsbury’s while i thought this up - sorry😋
It started with one. One metal band around Peter’s middle finger. You had loved it, even complimented him on it.
Never could you have expected a fucking ring to make you like this.
Your problem had began in first period, when Peter walked into math, his fingers lined with rings. You had noticed straight away, and when he sat down next to you, your mind was already a million miles away.
The only thought bouncing around in your mind was short, sweet and simple. Rings, rings, rings.
By the end of maths, you could already feel the butterflies in your stomach dropping all the way down, giving you a familiar sensation in your abdomen.
You and Peter had been dating for the best part of two years, and yes - you had sex. Good sex, at that, although there was always a mutual feeling of wanting more, something beyond the reasonably vanilla sex.
Maybe this would be the kickstarter.
Now, it was last period, and you were surprised that you had made it through the day. It was English, and where you had normally been focused on the learning, your eyes were glued to Peter in front of you.
He was the row in front and one to the left, so his hands were in perfect view. Was it weird, to be so obsessed with your own boyfriend? No, you thought. He made you like this.
The whole day before, you had been quiet in conversations, although not quiet enough for Peter to be suspicious. MJ had noticed at lunch, clearly more observant than Peter, and she has teased you relentlessly.
But you didn’t care. He was hot.
You knew how wet you were - you could feel it every time you moved. It was unbearable, having to act completely fine all day when your mind was begging to be fucked. You prayed Peter couldn’t tell.
“Y/N?” Your English teacher, Mr. Robertson called.
“Hm?” You snapped your eyes up. “Yeah?”
“I asked you what you got for number seven?”
“Oh,” Looking at the board, you tried to work the answer out in your head. “Alliteration, right?”
Mr. Robertson nodded, “Pay more attention, please.”
“Yes, sir.” You shifted in your chair, accidentally rolling over that sweet spot.
You felt yourself get even wetter, while you hoped the bell would ring sooner. Eyes falling back onto Peter, you noticed the hair on his arms was standing up, and his eyes went vacant, staring at his work.
Fuck, you thought. He knows.
You reached to into your bag under the desk, shuffling things around until you felt the cool glass of your perfume bottle. Pulling it out, you took the cap off and sprayed it over yourself a few times, deliberately pointing some in Peter’s direction.
His spidey-sense normally came in handy, but right now all you wanted was to cover up your own hormones. He didn’t have to know, you said to yourself. It would be so embarrassing to explain - that you had been dumb all day over his hands, just from one simple change.
Eyeing the clock, you checked how long it was until the day would finally be over. Turns out it was only a few minutes - a few minutes until you could get home and get yourself under control-
Wait, you stopped mid-sentence. It was Thursday. That meant you weren’t going home. Thursdays meant May wasn’t home, so you always went to Peter’s for a movie night. Fuck.
“And on that note, pack up.” Mr. Robertson smiled, bringing you out of your thoughts.
Peter closed his jotter, turning around to face you. “Are you ok? You’ve been quiet today.”
“Yeah,” you tried to act normal. “Just trying to pick a movie to watch tonight. It’s my turn, right?”
He smiled. “Please don’t make me watch Love, Simon again. I love it- but I think I know it word for word at this point.”
Good, you thought. Maybe he hasn’t noticed. “Fine. Just because I love you.”
You shoved your jotter into your bag, throwing it over your shoulder and saying goodbye to Mr. Robertson. Every step you took caused more friction between your legs, it was torture. There was no way you could act normally.
Thankfully, the walk from school to Peter’s place wasn’t too far, although he still lived with May and was in his last year of high school, you were glad that he was so close to you, all the time. It was nice to have him there.
Approaching his apartment building, the conversation was scarce - not awkward, though. Peter seemed to take your quietness as a hint, and you two walked in comfortable silence.
He held the door for you as you walked into the building, heading towards the stairs up to his floor. You could hear him behind you, rummaging around in his bag to find his keys.
When you got to his door, you turned, meeting his brown eyes - seeing something within them, something not too prominent, but there. It was new.
“So, you decided on a movie?” Peter asked, closing the door behind him. “And please don’t say 365 Days. May doesn’t need that on our Netflix history.”
You laughed, “Really? I was looking forward to watching that.”
He rolled his eyes, pulling his bag off of his shoulder. “No, baby. I will not watch glorified porn with you.”
“Damn,” you joked. “Guess I’ll have to settle for my second choice.”
Peter scoffed. “No. Absolutely not, princess. That’s not even on Netflix.”
You set your bag down next to his. “I’m kidding, babe. MJ was talking about this movie in science - it’s called Room. It sounds good.”
“As long as it’s not a weird mafia sex movie.” Peter mumbled.
“I doubt it would be,” You giggled.
He walked over to the living room TV, picking up the remote and turning it on before you spoke;
“I’m gonna get changed, can I borrow a hoodie? This shirt is too tight.”
“Yeah, go ahead,” He smiled. “By borrow, you mean keep, right?”
You fake scoffed. “Never!”
Peter smirked. “It’s good, baby. You look good in my clothes anyway. I’ll get the movie on.”
Smiling, you walked into his room, pulling your own shirt off - leaving you in your bra. You walked up to Peter’s closet, looking for a hoodie you saw him wear the other day.
You searched through the hangers, not finding a single hoodie. Weird, you thought. Maybe he moved them into the drawers.
Turning around, you jumped when you saw Peter almost right in front of you, just a few feet ahead.
“Christ, Pete. Almost had a heart attack.” You laughed.
“I wanted to ask you about something.” His tone was smooth, almost totally opposing the joking tone he had just a minute ago.
“Sure,” You smiled. “But can I have some clothes on when you ask?”
You began to walk past him to his drawers, but were surprised when his hand caught your arm before you could pass.
“Pete- Are you alright?” You could feel the rings pressing against your skin, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a huge turn on. You could feel the butterflies in your panties, which were already soaked from the day.
The hair on Peter’s arm stood up.
“That,” he looked at his arm. “Keeps happening.”
“Is someone in trouble, maybe?” You tried to play it off.
Peter laughed a little. “No, angel. No one’s in trouble.”
You nodded. “Then what is it?”
“Come on, pretty girl,” he drawled. “Let’s not play dumb.”
His hand moved up from your wrist, slowing tracing your arm, going all the way up until Peter’s hand reached your face. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, but kept his hand there, cupping your cheek.
“I could smell you, all day,” He smirked. “That’s why you kept spraying perfume, isn’t it? You knew that I’d smell how fuckin’ wet you are.”
Your breath hitched. Peter had never been like this before, never so outright. Hey, you didn’t dislike it.
“Tell me, baby,” he looked back into your eyes before he pulled his hand away, running it through his curls. “What’s got you so needy?”
The words wouldn’t come out. It was too embarrassing. What is he thought it was weird, what if it made him uncomfortable? Your mind raced.
“Baby,” His hand went to your chin, pulling it up so you’d look him in the eyes. “I asked you a question.”
You still couldn’t speak, but instead looked down to his other hand, Peter’s own gaze following. He laughed a little when it clicked.
“Oh,” he breathed, putting both hands next to each other. “my hands?”
“I know it’s dumb, I don’t know why I-”
Peter stopped you with just a look.
“No, it’s not,” smirking, he raised his right hand and placed it back on your cheek. “It’s not weird.”
He seemed to recognise that you wanted more, just didn’t want to say it, as he gave you a look as if you say ‘Go ahead, do whatever.’ Peter could tell you a lot through looks.
You took a breath, reaching up to the hand on your shoulder, lifting it off and moving it up, slowing placing it on your neck, using your own hand to wrap it around.
The cool metal was nice against your skin, and although Peter could already smell your hormones, you knew they would be kicking off even more now that you had everything you wanted - his hand wrapped around your neck.
You moved you’re eyes back up to him, expecting him to look confused or uncomfortable, but instead there was just a vacant look on his face, something you had never seen before.
For a moment you thought he hated it, Peter’s blank look making you expect the worst, so you pulled away a little, letting your hand drop from on top of his.
But he didn’t pull away.
His expression turned, going from blank to a small smirk, his eyes almost lighting up. “Oh,”
You swallowed. “Is this ok?”
Peter nodded quickly. “This is definitely ok.”
Smiling a little, you moved further into his grip, feeling the cool of his rings against your throat. You felt Peter tighten his grip slightly, which took you by surprise.
Letting out a small moan - much to Peter’s delight, you flushed red and looked into his eyes again.
He laughed a little, moving closer to you and running his other hand down your side.
“We’re gonna have so much fun with this, angel.”
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don’t hold back
college!peter parker x reader
summary: two hormonal students wander into a room during a frat party, what could possibly happen? maybe you discover that under his heart made of pure gold lurks a hidden powerful, dominant side.
word count: 4,685
warnings: alcohol mention, drug mention, but pure pwp smut minors dni (18+) extended warnings below bc i am not trying ruin the innocent :)
a/n: i would like to state that this is much longer than i anticipated.. but anyways, i am just gonna be honest, i have a major size/power kink. so this fic is my ~fucked~ up mind laying it all out for my fellow lil nasties ;) fair warning, this is pure filth. sorry for any mistakes and bad writing. but i hope you enjoy it x and let me know what you think ?!!
taglist || masterlist
extended warnings: thigh riding, body worship, oral (f.rec), dry humping, marking, peter being a boob guy, lil hints of soft!peter, unprotected sex, dirty talk, overstimulation, major power kink, manhandling, size kink, pain kink, praise kink, dom!peter, sadist!peter, squirting, cum play, handjob, body painting/facial, cum eating. think that is it? idk sorry !!
College was scary for the majority of people. New social circles, new surroundings. It took time for people to adjust. But Peter Parker wasn’t the majority.
The newfound freedom appealed to him. He was used to be a quote on quote loner, a nerd. It was never a desire of his to have big groups of friends or to be popular. He simply liked being by himself. It was fewer people in his life he had to lie to.
In college, people don’t care. They are too busy trying to find their own place in the world. Find their footing on the new terrain. So, they didn’t look twice at the boy who looked way too young to be attending classes. They didn’t care if he dressed in a flannel and sweater. Or if he washed up some morning with an unexplained bruise.
Peter loved that. He could do what he wanted with no one breathing down his back as if he was an adolescent child. No babysitter, just him. And he was happy with just that.
Peter made a few friends in his engineering classes. But their conversations only ever included the advancement or emergence of new technology. He could finally be that independent man he always claimed he was.
It was unusual for him to attend a party, but after the robotics club won their state final, he was persuaded to join the rest in a night of drunkenness. Peter quickly found out his ability to withstand the effects of alcohol was quite the phenomenon. People passing more and more drinks his way, hoping the next would knock him out cold. His superhuman ways always winning the battle.
The boys had ended up in a frat house, partying with people, who on a regular day, would never give them a second glance. Yet tonight, they were the centerpiece. I mean, whatever excuse a frat house can get to host a party, they would take it.
Peter was standing idle in the corner of the living room, fascinated by the people who were rolling blunts shamelessly on the coffee table. His hand was clutched around a red solo cup, the remains of his eighth drink begging to be chugged.
“Hey, you are Parker? Peter Parker?” The call of his sudden name caused him to perk up, wondering who said it.
Your soft eyes met his. A grin plastered across your face as you stalked closer to him. “Sorry, you are in my chemistry class. You taking it as an elective?”
Peter’s body stiffened, not use to female attention, unless they were asking for help with homework. He cleared his throat, swirling the plastic cup in his shaky hands. “Uh, yeah. I like chemistry.” He mentally wanted to punch himself for how nerdy he must’ve sounded.
His uneasiness was settled when he heard you giggle, the sound causing him to blush. “I like you Peter Parker.”
It was a blunt statement, but you were in no mood for beating around the bush. A light buzz gave you all the confidence you needed. His cheeks were now bright red, face burning up. The room closing in on him, becoming claustrophobic. He was becoming more aware, his senses were overstimulated in the current situation. Every noise, every breath, every movement, he felt it.
You could see him becoming uncomfortable, his jaw clenched, eyes squinted. You barely knew that man, but you wanted to help. “Hey, hey.” You whispered, placing a gentle hand on his forearm. “Wanna go somewhere quieter?”
He nodded immediately, begging to be removed from the troubling environment. Clasping your hands together, you guided out of the crowded room. Some people noticed, wolf whistling and cheering you on as you tried to seek refuge.
As you didn’t live here, you had no clue where you were going. Logically, the only thing that came to your mind was a bedroom. Finding the stairs, you dragged him up them. Luckily the first door you opened was unoccupied. Pulling him inside, you locked it to prevent any unwanted company.
The room was small, but it seemed empty. Only a mattress on the floor with a bunch of cardboard boxes scattered in the corners. Awkwardly, you both stood still at the door, unsure what your next move should be. “Uh, so you get anxious often?”
Peter shook his head, scanning the room trying to distract himself from the tension he was feeling. “No. No. It’s not like an anxiety thing.”
As he didn’t elaborate, you caught onto the message he was silently sending. He wasn’t interested in getting personal. And if you were brutally honest, you weren’t either. Other intentions were invading your mind. Sinful intentions.
Peter had first caught your eye the moment he was late to class one morning. His hair was a mess, scruffy like he just woke up. A cut was sliced into his cheek, but it seemed to be near the end of healing. Clothes were ruffled, pockets hung out of his khakis and shirt poked out from the bottom of his sky blue jumper. He sat a few rows away from you. It was safe to say you couldn’t focus in class that day, or any other day for a matter of fact.
He was mysterious, maybe that’s what attracted you. On the outside, he had that soft, nerdy appearance. For some reason, you believed under that thick skin was a more complex human. One that possessed many deep, dark secrets. You could see it in his hollow eyes; they seemed empty sometimes.
“What are you doing at a party anyways? I have never seen you attend any before. What you celebrating?” You hoped the line of questioning would cool the thick, humid air.
“Robotic club won state.” He mumbled, slightly ashamed and afraid that the hot girl in front of him would think he was pathetic.
“That’s so cool. You can build robots? That’s really cool.”
He sent you a confused look, shocked that robots and cool came out of your mouth without hesitation. “You think robots are cool? Are you secretly a nerd or something?” He huffed, not believing a word you said.
Rolling your eyes, you folded your arms. “Nothing wrong with appreciating talent. Plus, I am a STEM major myself. Nobody ever tell you don’t judge a book by it’s cover?”
His face became flushed, lips parted ready to apologise for offending you. “Don’t worry Parker. You aren’t the first to undermine me.” You smirked up at him.
Only a short distance separated your hormonal, raging bodies. It wasn’t unusual for two good looking people to want to tear off each other’s clothes. Even if it was just for a night. The college years were the time for experience. For exploration.
Peter inhaled sharply, trying to keep his emotions at bay. Your eyes were like poison, killing him slowly as they stared deeply into his soul through dark, bloomed orbs. Silently begging him to make a move.
His hand rested on your hip, the other slowly lifted to your cheek, cupping your face. Leaning forward his lips lingered over yours, hot breath mixing adding to the thick air that surrounded you. “I never got your name.” He whispered in a low, soft voice, not wanting to ruin the moment.
He took a second to process what was about to happen, what was about to ensue. Lips brushed over one another. A tingling feeling surged through your body, breath hitched, legs shaky. They finally touched, latching onto his thin, tender lips. The kiss was soft, gentle as they tried to find the perfect rhythm.
Your body melted, a warmth pulsing through your veins. Peter sensed your weakness, hand hooking around your lower back supporting your trembling frame. It wasn’t your first rodeo, but you were still nervous. He was very cute after all.
Getting over your nerves, your palms sunk into his chest, pushing him against the wall. He groaned, deepening the kiss. His tongue poked at your lips, pleading for entrance. Gladly, you parted your lips allowing him to slip past. Tongues clashed, messy and sloppy as urges began to grow. A fire in the pit of your stomach emerging.
Unable to suppress your desire, your hands wandered south, fisting his iconic sweater as you tried to remove it from his body. He obliged, lifting his arms up as the fabric slipped off his body. As soon as the first layer was gone, your fingers immediately began to unbutton his shirt. Your cold digits that grazed his skin caused him to shiver.
As you tried to finish the task, his hands slipped down to your ass, grabbing a handful. His hands were rough and greedy as they fed their needs. Humming against his lips, you’d lost patience, bursting a few buttons as you ripped his shirt. Peter smirked, as you broke away from his devouring lips. “Impatient?”
Rolling your eyes, you tried to hide the guilt you felt. You were never this eager. His bare chest caught your gaze. A mouth watering, unexpected view greeted you. You had assumed Peter was just a lanky, scrawny man; but you were very wrong. Your hands moved the sleeves down his arms as you scanned his torso.
A sculpture, carefully carved and defined. Every muscle was visible, and tempting. His skin dipped into every dent, the lighting of the room enhancing it. The shadow playing in his favour; like he needed it. As eyes ventured lower, his v-line was deep and sharp causing something to get caught in your throat. He could be a Calvin Klein model in his spare time for all you knew.
Once his arms were free, his lips crashed into yours again, gaining your attention. Hands flung to the sides of your face, holding it still as lips moved with voracious pace. Your fingers looped in around his belt, pulling your bodies close together so that a sliver of air couldn’t even pass through. Peter, craving you, used his power to change positions, slamming you against the wall.
His leg found comfort between your thighs, pressing against your clothed heat. Moving it with precision, he stimulated your clit. Body surrendering to his dominance. Small whimpers were muffled by his wet lips as they continued to feast on yours. His hands glided down your curves, memorising every dip they caressed, stopping at the bottom hem of your dress.
Your body arched off the wall, aiding him as he pulled the dress from your body. You stood beneath his broad figure bare, only underwear shading you. Heart pounded, his glare intense. His tongue darted out from his tight lips, licking them ready to indulge.
He made his first attack, lips attaching to the skin of your chest. Sucking and licking the exposed tops of your mounds as hands found their way back to your ass. His touch was hot, burning your skin. Your hands grasped at his dark hair, pulling at the roots as your fingers laced with the curly locks. His teeth reacted, scrapping your sensitive flesh. “Pete!”
Your voice was high pitched as you cried out his name, the attentive attention he gave your fragile body was overwhelming. He hummed as your voice rang pleasantly in his ears. His brain was in a haze, senses in overdrive. The touch, the sounds, the taste. He was desperate to feel you, all of you.
His hands slid to the back of your thighs, hooking around them as he swept you off the ground. You screamed out his name, shocked at how easily he did it. Like you were the weight of a feather. He laughed against your chest as he carried effortlessly to the bed, only to throw you onto it like a rag doll.
You barely had time to process the strength of the man before his lips returned to your body. Sucking deep marks into your skin, starting at your thighs before he began his ascent up to you. Lips marked your thighs, stomach, chest, and neck before linking with your swollen, abused lips. He used his legs to open yours, parting them allowing him access.
His hardened cock pressed into you as your hips rocked together. Grinding, both losing patience as the anticipation grew. When your legs wrapped around his body, he growled, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he pulled away. “Fuck, you sure this is okay?”
“Just fuck me.”
It was blunt, but you had no intention to sugarcoat the situation, you just wanted sex. No strings attached. Peter had no desire to get anything more from the night either. He was contempt with fulfilling his sinful want.
He quickly undid his belt, pulling his pants down. Your heat pulsated as his thick thighs came into view. Muscles carved like a Greek god. Your hips rutted against the air, needing fulfilment. “Shit are you like a bodybuilder or something?”
He chuckled before a sinister smirk emerged on his face, sending shivers down your spine; scared for what was in store. His hand rested on your lower stomach, thumb teasing your clit through your damp panties. He watched your body react, eyes droopy, lips parted and face contorted with pleasure. The sight caused his cock to throb and jump with excitement.
Tired of the foreplay, Peter lowered his face between your quaking thighs. Hot breath fanning over your pulsating core. The aroma tempted him to come undone, the sweetness seeping into his sense. Mouth was dry, dying for a taste from the source.
Not wasting another second, he moved the delicate fabric to the side, tongue diving in between your folds. Lapping and drinking up the arousal that dripped from your heat. Peter gladly explored every inch, switching between your clit and seeping hole, stretching you with the strong muscle. The angelic sounds that you created prompted him to hump the bed, granting himself some sort of relief.
Your hands were latched to his hair, grasping at his scalp trying to keep the last bit of sanity you had intact. “Pete. Please. I need you.”
His eyes flashed up to you. They were raw, piercing, a glint of anxiousness could be seen as he gave your bud one final harsh suck. His chin glistened causing you to blush. “You sure? I was gonna make you cum before we got to that part.” He shyly stated.
Hands clutched his chin, guiding him to your face, bringing him in for a messy, heated kiss. His broad stature shaded you from the dim light, overpowering, intimidating. Using a hand to plank his body, the other went to snap off your panties. You heard a rip causing you to gasp, but he shoved his tongue into your mouth, shutting you up.
He moved onto his own boxers, kicking them off his legs. Your thighs rested on his as he spread his legs, causing you to open up your silky folds to him. His cock prodding at the newly exposed skin. He used his hand to grab his length, pumping it a few times before positioning it at your entrance. “Just breath.” He mumbled, his angry tip penetrating your tight core.
His girth took you by surprise, stretching your walls. You hadn’t expected it, underestimating his size. Your hands clawed at his back as he slowly pushed in deeper. He continuously checked in with you, asking if you were okay, if you wanted to stop. But the pain was foreshadowed by the immense pleasure that vibrated through you.
Once he came to a hilt, his cock was balls deep. Tip grazing your cervix, signifying how deep he was. The way his cock was curved was designed for maximum pleasure. You never felt so full, fingernails sinking into his back leaving behind crescent marks as you tried to ground yourself back down to reality. “You are so big, fuck.” You praised, shoving your face into his neck.
His large biceps enclosed you, holding you tight as he shallowly moved his hips. “Yeah? You are so tight. Feel so good.” He panted, trying to tame his instincts.
“God, please just fuck me.”
Growling, he followed instruction, retracting his hips before snapping them forward in one harsh movement. Thighs quaked as his pelvic bone collided with your neglected clit. His moves were slow, calculated. Eyes shut tight, his senses overwhelming his body. You could see he was holding back.
Peter, since the bite, was always scared of what he was capable of. Sex being one of those things. He knew he was powerful, strong enough to stop a bus. He also had a heart of gold, never wanting to injure or hurt another person. Especially a woman he was intimate with.
“Pete, don’t hold back. Let go. I can take it. I want it.”
His eyes shot open, pupils dark and wide, swallowing the warm brown that surrounded them. His jaw clenched, unsure if he should do as told. Your hand cupped his cheek, assuring him. “Peter please. I like it rough.” You confessed, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
A primal grunt slipped from his gritted teeth, your innocent eyes driving him mad. Adjusting the position, he placed your calves on his shoulders, his cock slipping deeper into you. “Please, tell me if it’s too much.”
You nodded, inhaling sharply, mentally preparing yourself for the on slaughter that was about to ensue. His hands hooked around your thighs, fingers digging into the skin. Before you could even process the strength of his grip, his cock began to pound into you mercilessly.
His member relentlessly struck your g-spot, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Thankfully, the music was so loud it drowned out your pathetic, loud moans. He used his tight grip as leverage, pulling your body to meet his hard thrusts.
The sounds were sinister, skin on skin clapping, applauding him. Your wetness splattering, covering his cock, echoed through the room. Body on a high, you felt no shame for how you were reacting. Your hands flung to the pit of your stomach, clawing at your skin. “I can- feel how deep you are.”
He smirked at your statement, one hand shoving your hands away to replace them with his. Fingers pressed into your lower stomach, thumb focused on your clit, rubbing aggressive, precise circles around the swollen bud. “Fuck, I can feel how deep I am. Bet you’ve never felt so full before. Not gonna be able to walk after this.”
The thought of destroying your body only turned him on more. His hips moved at an animalistic pace, not humanly possible. His balls slapped your ass with every thrust, and the attention on your clit drove you to insanity. You became a babbling mess below him. Unintelligible words slipping from your lips as your brain clouded with lust.
“Fuck. Look like a beautiful mess. Does it feel good? Making you feel good? Cause, shit, you make me feel incredible.”
Head nodded vigorously, unable to speak only cry out in pleasure. Body began to convulse, the knot in your stomach ready to burst at any second. “Pete. Close.” You chanted, grasping his hands, grounding yourself.
“That’s it. You wanted to be a big girl. You said you could take it. So c’mon. Cum all over my cock. Wanna feel that pretty pussy clench around me.”
His words rang through your ears as you tipped over the edge. A wave consumed you, body shook as it welcomed the intense feeling. His hands grabbed your waist, holding you still, comforting you. “That’s it. Let go.” “Feel so good around my cock.” “So pretty when you cum. Could watch you all day.”
His thrust slowed, allowing you to come down from your high. Once your head started to clear, you could still feel his hard presence pulsate against your abused walls. Eyes bulged, shocked that he was lasting so long. “You good?” He queried, watching you struggle to keep your eyes open.
“Fuck yes. Amazing.”
He cleared his throat, in a bit of a predicament. Should he continue? Or should he just leave? Finish himself off in some random bathroom. However his question was answered. “Why’d you stop? Fuck, I want you to cum.”
He flipped you over so you were now straddling him. Whimpering, your palms slapped his hard, defined chest. “Pete, I am tired. Sorry.” Your hips movements weak against his, body still recovering from your orgasm.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry, I got you. May I?” He asked, positioning his feet flat on the bed, hands grasping your waist.
Confused by what he meant, you nodded, naively. He bit his lip, giving you sudden harsh thrust. You jolted upwards due to the mere force, but his hands brought you right back, forcing you to swallow his cock. You screeched as he stretched you, filled you.
He repeated that movement, continuously. Pumping his throbbing cock into your wetness. There was no escape from the pleasure, his hands in complete control of your body. His eyes locked in on your mounds, watching them bounce begging to be released from their restricting cups. “Take off your bra, wanna see your tits. Please.”
A guttural growl was ripped from his throat as you quickly removed the material from your body. The way they bounced and rippled with every thrust. He couldn’t help but bring a hand up, squeezing the plush flesh. “Fucking beautiful.” He muttered, thumb teasing the bud.
With the last bit of energy you possessed, you rocked your hips on his cock causing the curve to hit your sensitive spot hidden within your velvety walls. That was enough to send you to your second high without warning, falling off the edge with a scream of his name.
But that didn’t stop his merciless thrusts. Using your lifeless body as a toy to please his cock. You were getting wetter at the thought of just being used as a tight hole for him to fuck. It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it did. His dominance over you was scary.
Your throat was dry and raw, every sound that rippled from it tore apart the skin. Peter wouldn’t dream of silencing you, the song you sang was too beautiful. “Yeah keep screaming my name. Shit, I am so close.” He groaned, hips were violent, bruising the skin of your thighs and hips.
The pain succumbed to the pleasure, masking any future aches you would inevitably experience. Your body was limb, he was in complete control of your movements. Brain dead in your euphoric haze. You sputtered nonsense, eyes droopy as hands grabbed his shoulders preventing you from falling forward.
The sounds from the collision were pornographic, sinful. The arousal that poured out from your core making it easy for his cock to dive deeper with every stroke. He was so close, eyes flickering between your bouncing tits and the contact your bodies made, enjoying the way his length was creamed with your juices.
Your body burned, insides twisting and turning. A fire spread uncontrollably through your veins. It was something you never experienced. Being brutally used. Peter, was loving the feeling of dominance, controlling every movement. “Fuck, you love me using you don’t you?”
You parted your lips, but your brain was not functioning, only a hum escaping. “Got you dumb for my cock do I?” He chuckled, his thrusts never ending. “Love me using you for my own pleasure. Just, grabbing you, fucking you down onto my big cock.”
His cockiness and confidence resonated between your quaking thighs. Only adding the wetness that pooled between them. “Getting wetter from me just talking to you? Fuck, you are the best girl. Feel so good and tight. Gonna make me cum.”
Moaning, you practically begged him to cum in fear you may mentally leave this planet and never return. “But, you need to cum one more time for me. Be my good girl, my best girl, and take it.” His voice was stern, not in the mood for negotiations.
Following his demand, his thumb found your forgotten clit. A sequence of curses and screams poured out as your stomach tightened. A new sensation appeared, an unfamiliar one. The pressure that pent up was about to explode. “Pete, I- too much.”
“One more. Give it to me. Let it go. Cum.”
And with that, everything collapsed. Vision blurred and spotted with black dots as your juices gushed from your fragile body. His cock was pushed out from your heat due to the force. His fast reflexes reacted, grabbing his cock, using the tip to rub fast motions across your swollen clit. Your cum covered his lower stomach and length. He groaned at the sight, watching the juices squirt from your convulsing body.
He guided you through the intense orgasm, using his cock to slowly trace your drenched folds, his tight grip pumping his throbbing cock as he did. “Atta girl, I got you.” He assured, caresses your soaked thighs. “But shit, I am gonna come baby, so fucking hard. Can I cum on your tits, please.”
“Yes! Yes! Fuck Pete you can cum wherever you want.” You slurred, brain drunk from the overstimulation your body was experiencing. Three intense orgasms in less than twenty minutes, you would’ve been considered lucky to achieve one on a given night.
He smirked, proud of his work. Fucked out and messy. It turned him on so much. His balls tightened, begging to find release. Gently, he cradled your lower back, laying you down on your back so he could straddled your waist.
Through heavy eyes, you watched him jerk his cock through a tight grip. His member was wet, glistening, covered in a mixture of your cum and his own precum. Veins bulging through his thin skin. Tip, red and angry, pulsating vigorously. Weakly, you placed a hand on his thigh, raking it, while the other played with his sensitive slit. “Fuck. Gonna be so pretty covered in my cum.”
“Cum Pete. Please. I want it so bad.” You pleaded, sticking your tongue out, hoping some would land in your mouth.
The sight of you below him, begging to be degraded. It sent him to his climax. His cock shooting out thick ropes of white cum while chanting your name loudly, with no shame. You had to clench your thighs at the sounds he made. Some landed on your face, most painted your chest. You were amazed at his load, it seemed like it would never end. Your weak hand joined his, helping him milk out every last drop. The touch of your tender, soft hand wrapped around him made him rut his hips against it as he rode out the feeling of pure ecstasy.
As the tingles that surged through him finally simmered, he collapsed down beside you. Breath heavy, and sharp. His cock twitched against his thigh, his whole person overstimulated by his senses that were dialed to a hundred. The dim light suddenly becoming too bright from him. He winced, turning his head towards you, which he immediately regretted when he saw you running your fingers across your chest, gathered up his cum on your slim digits. You carried it up to your mouth, sucking them clean. His jaw dropped. And suddenly the blood rushed back down south.
You turned your head to face him, heat rising to your cheeks after realising you’d been caught. You were intrigued. Peter took the chance to take in your appearance. Your chin was wet with a mixture of your spit and his cum, eyes still blooming with lust, hair messy and knotted. He closed his eyes, trying to remove the picture from his head as it wasn’t helping his current situation. Hearing a giggle, forced him to look at you, confused at the sudden outburst.
Your eyes were peering down at his growing length causing a red crimson colour to creep across his cheeks. “I was going to ask you to get me a rag to clean up because I don’t think I can walk, but I don’t think there is a point. I can see you have other ideas.”
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+ pairing: peter x f! reader
+ cw: mirror sex, belly bulging, cervix kissing, creampie, slight cum eating, dacryphilia, praising, very vocal peter, fluff at the end (?)
+ a/n: idk this has been on my mind for a minute...not proofread lol
just thinking about peter and you moving into your new little cozy apartment uptown new york, and how he fucks you in front of a mirror that was gifted to the both of you by a friend.
it’s tall and wide, with ornate brassy golden trimming, and hangs charmingly at the head of your mahogany bed.
you’ve been at it for hours, trying to gather your wits as you come down from your umpteenth orgasm of the night. peter’s curiosity and boyish excitement was rather hard to avoid, you’d fallen victim to it many times before, and tonight had been no different.
“so pretty like this,” the brunet cooed, “takin’ me so well.” it was always a sight to behold whenever he’d first slip in. you were always so tight, so wet—so inviting, letting him inch his cock in until it reached the hilt.
“you see that? that’s me right there.” Your abdomen clenches the second his calloused palm presses down into it, and you swear for a second that his eyes glaze over in this darkness—this lust, as if feeling himself so deep inside of you turned a gear in his head. grabbing your hand, he pulls it down to the bulge that stops just above your navel, his slow strokes unrelenting.
“want you to feel it too. want you to tell me how good i feel inside,” he syncopates each thrust with his words, honey brown eyes never leaving yours. with your hand pressing down onto your stomach, you could feel all of him. it felt strange, feeling him so deep, but the more he rutted into your gummy cunt, the more your head started to fog, and the more your feet started to curl into pretty crescents.
“feels so good,” you whimper, “so, so, so good.” the admission makes his cock twitch a few times, and he just about splits you open the moment it leaves your saccharine lips. his once slow, impassioned strokes, had soon turned into forceful ones. in and out, he’d watch as his length disappears into your puffy folds, only to reappear a moments later.
barely using any strength, peter flips you over on your stomach, maneuvering your upper body to lay flat against the bed while he pushes your hips up to meet his aching cock. tantalizingly slow, he prods your puffy little folds, then unceremoniously pushes past your entrance, a single tear cascading down your cheek from the intrusion.
although it hurt, there was no denying how incredibly full he made you feel in this position. it was as if you were molded for him—molded to take him, and only him. he gives you no time to adjust, opting to grip you up by the arms to unmercilessly plunge into you, marveling in the way your head bops wildly from the pace. the second your head droops forward, his right hand finds solace on your chin. the boy mumbles a ‘nuh-uh’ before he repositions your head to look forward, his thick fingers slithering down to your lips so that he can pry them apart.
“look at you—fuck—so beautiful,” he breathes, “you like it, huh? like looking at yourself while i fuck this pretty pussy?” a strangled moan vacates from your throat upon hearing the vulgarity of his words. you wanted to properly answer him but you were finding it difficult to do so, babbling incoherences, followed by a string of profanities and whimpers. all you could do was suck on his fingers, thoughts full of nothing but his melodic groans and pants.
seeing peter’s face in the mirror contort and twist into pleasure sent goosebumps up your arms. knowing that he was just as fucked out as you were, made something in your stomach bubble with arousal. he just looked so pretty like this, with his head thrown back, wisps of hair kissing his damp forehead…you were intoxicated.
“feel you clenching ‘round me, you gonna come again, pretty girl?”the knot wounding up so tightly in your abdomen was on the brink of unraveling, and with his ceaseless thrusts, you were only falling further and further into the depths of euphoria. removing his fingers from your mouth, you released them with a wet pop, watching the string of saliva that connected from your lips to his fingers wither away.
you tense as his left hand releases you, scared that you’ll fall forward, but he quickly wraps it around your front, pulling your back taut against his chest. the hand still wet with your saliva travels south to your clit, his lithe digits circling your nub diligently, building up a steady pace.
“‘m so close, please, please…” your voice crescendos into a hushed whisper, “want you to fill me up.” peter’s hold around your front tightens, and he can’t help but to shower you with kisses as he vigorously ruts into you from behind, his fingers on your clit moving at a maddening pace.
“then come, baby. give me one more, you’re doing so good,” he assures. the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes had begun to stream in steady droplets, collecting under your chin until they fell to your already dampened pillow. his sweet words were enough to send you over the edge, you’d come under his instruction, releasing the most pornographic moan he’d ever heard from you.
after witnessing such an intense display of pleasure, it wouldn’t take him too long to meet you there. his hips were faltering, growing sloppier by the minute, and seeing you lay like a pretty, little doll against him only encouraged him more. pleas of ‘good girl’ and ‘i’m coming’ were just a few of the admittances pouring from his lips, the rest falling upon deaf ears as your fatigued body lays there and takes everything he has to offer. with a final thrust, and a few short whimpers later, he cums deep into your swollen cunt, cursing to himself as your walls flutter intermittently around him.
“g-god, you’re too much,” peter mutters breathlessly, jettisoning the last of his cum into your pussy. the two of you flop over on the bed, chests rising and falling asynchronously until they begin to regulate. when he unsheathes himself, you don’t miss the faint pink that plasters across his face, his lips upturning into a shy smile. no matter how many times he fucked you, he’d always stare in awe at the state of your post-sex body, like he’d suddenly forgotten the way he treated you like a rag doll prior.
with your legs spread apart, he observes with wide eyes as your still fluttering hole pushes out his thick seed. the brunet’s eyes meet your own before he extends a finger to push it back inside, removing it in the same motion, raising it to your awaiting lips. you take it obligingly, sucking on it with a hum, and release it with a satisfied smile.
“i always love when you do that,” he confesses, lowering his head down to until your lips are leveled with his.
you lean into him, drawing back a little to speak, “yeah, you like when i do a lot of things,” your voice is teasing. closing the distance between you, you place a chaste kiss on his lips. it’s gentle and sweet, and peter finds himself smiling into it, whispering a playful ‘shut up’ as he pulls you into his chest.
© all content belongs to arachine 2021. no reposts or modifications.
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your mess | p.p
summary: peter got drunk at flash's party and you have to take care of him.
word count: 6.2k
warnings: talks of sex (like a lot, when I say a lot I mean a lot), smutty scenes, underage drinking, kisses get heated, peter almost mentally scars tony.
notes: it's an alternative version of my other fanfiction: drunk mess!! i won't be posting anything until next year (yeah, not even blurbs). so happy holidays and I'll come back with something I've been planning for a long time ;)
"Fucking hell." You groaned, your eyes fluttering open at the shrill ringing of your phone, pushing yourself up on your elbows as you turned to reach it.
Your fingers brushed against the cool surface of your night stand, an annoyed huff escaping your lips as you grab a hold of your phone, squinting at the sharp light of the bright screen.
You rolled your eyes as MJ's name flashed on the screen with a picture that you took of her when you went to Europe a few years ago. You quickly accepted the call, pressing the phone to your ear.
"What?" You rubbed your eyes as you sat up, annoyance seeping from your words as you pushed your back against the headboard, clutching the blankets close to your chest as a shiver shot up your spine.
“Hi Y/n—?” MJ called out, you winced, pushing the phone away from your ear. You could still clearly hear the howls, the loud music and the cheerful screams from the other side.“—yeah? Hello? Sorry, there is—fuck, you need to pick your mess up."
"You know, your boyfriend?" MJ said. You bit your bottom lip, a frown settling on your face. "I—yeah. He's drunk. Like drunk drunk."
"Peter is drunk?" Your eyes widened as the words left your mouth, still trying to process the information. You quickly pushed off your blankets, setting your feet down on the floor. You hissed at the cold touch of the marble floor as you switched on the light.
"Yeah, blame the college friends." MJ grumbled. "But that's not the point. You need to pick him up. I can't deal with him anymore."
"Aww, you are such a good friend." You muttered, rolling your eyes as your fingers gripped your hair roughly, trying to tame the mess.
"I love him, alright?" She retorted, an exasperated sigh escaping her lips. "But I don't appreciate him trying to grope and kiss my boyfriend."
"Apparently," You heard Flash mumble from the other side, a cry of protest leaving MJ's lips which was drowned out by the noise. "He is very horny when he is drunk. MJ's words not mine."
"Yeah. I'll be there. Just–just keep him away from people." You reached for the handle of your closet, pulling out a jacket from the top rack. You bit your lip as you glanced down at yourself, regretting falling asleep in the dress you wore today. It was already cold enough. "Especially, like any girl or guy. Just–take care of him okay?"
"Yeah, don't worry." Flash reassured you. "Peter is doing that himself, he just shooed a girl away because she wasn't you."
"He shooed a girl away?"
MJ chuckled. "Yeah, he did, the look on her face was to fucking die for–wait, Peter, no—"
And she hung up.
"Fucking idiot." You muttered to yourself as you pocketed your car keys, putting on your shoes. "Just had to get his ass drunk, didn't he?" You shut your door behind yourself, zipping up your jacket as you crossed the distance between your room and the front door. "Asshole."
"It's late." You jerked your head around at your dad's voice. Your hand stilling on the doorknob. "Where to?"
You inhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over your face. "Going to pick Peter up from a party."
"He's at a party?" He glanced at his watch. "It's late–you didn't go?"
"No," you shook your head, your fingers fiddling with the hem of the skirt of your dress, "wasn't in the mood. but, he got drunk so I have to pick him up now–isn't it impossible for him to get drunk or something?"
"Well," Tony shrugged. "Not impossible, not if he had a lot to drink."
"I am going to kill him." You replied flatly, opening the door.
"Easy there," He chuckled, holding up his hand. "Don't yell at the poor kid when he's drunk."
"I am not going to do that. I'll just text May after I get him home."
"That's evil." He gasped.
"Yep," You let out a dry laugh. "I'll go pick him up."
Tony nodded. "Yeah, I want to see him. You've been hoarding all of my Peter time."
"Your Peter time?" You rolled your eyes at him. "He's my boyfriend, dad!"
Tony laughed, leaning against the wall. "Get the kid home."
Nodding your head, you made your way downstairs, getting into the car. You regretted not going along with him to Flash's party. He had insisted on you coming with him. He didn't want to go alone. And he couldn't not go because he promised Harry.
Still, you didn't think he'd get drunk. Not that you minded, you were just grateful that he had his friends there to take care of him. It might as well be a nice 'college experience' as your dad put it when you and Peter started college.
You've gotten drunk a lot while you were with him. And he was always the designated driver, he always stayed sober so he could take care of you which you appreciated. So, you were happy he was finally letting loose and having fun.
A part of you couldn't wait to see how he acted when he was drunk.
You pulled in the driveway of Flash's house. You locked the door, quickly making your way inside the house. Your heart thumped in your chest at the speed of light, the music pounding in your ears.
“Hey–" You glanced at MJ, your eyes growing wide at the sight. Her hair a mess, sticking to her face and neck, her mascara smeared near the edges of her eyes. You sighed, clutching your jacket tighter around yourself as she waved at you. "Hi!"
You pushed through the crowd, rolling your eyes as you bumped into sweaty bodies, mumbling a couple of 'sorry's and 'excuse me's as you walked over to MJ, her arm slung over the white railing of the stairs.
"Where is he–?" You eyed her, knitting your brows in confusion as she offered you a dazed smile, her fingers combing through her hair roughly. "What happened to you?"
"Nothing." She laughed nervously, fixing her black jacket, crossing her arms over her chest as she shrugged. "Why do you ask?"
"You look like a mess." You replied flatly. "Anyway, where is he?"
"I may have...lost him."
"I am sorry, okay?" She held up her hand, wiping her smudged lipstick from her chin absent-mindedly. "I got busy."
"What the fuck were you doing–?"
"MJ!" Flash appeared, his hands clutching the railings on the top of the staircase. He eyed MJ with annoyance, cocking his brow at her as she shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "Did you just have sex?" He gritted through his teeth, his face twisting with disgust. "In my room?"
MJ looked up, letting out an annoyed huff. "We were just—"
"Not even the guest room—"
"Harry was already in your room and–"
"Harry, you disgusting bitch." Flash took a deep breath, glancing at you but then turning his attention to MJ. "Fuck you, MJ. Where is he?"
"I don't know." She shrugged. "He went to look for Peter."
"And, where is he?" You asked.
Flash looked down at you, letting go off the railing, his hand falling limp by his side. "I saw him near the kitchen, like, an hour ago."
"Yeah, go." MJ cracked a smile, glancing at the living room. "Make sure he isn't whoring around."
“God, MJ. Don’t say that about my boyfriend.”
You made it to the kitchen, shivering at the cool breeze as you glanced at the open glass doors, leading outside to the outdoor pool. You whipped your head around as you heard a loud cheer only to find a couple of people gathered near the kitchen. Peter was sitting on the stool, leaning back against the counter, two bottles of beer dangling from his hands.
"Yes, I can drink this–" he took a sip from the beer bottle, letting out a sigh as he pushed the empty bottle in Harry's hand who was standing beside him, "–and more." He nodded towards the other beer bottle.
Your breath got caught in your throat as a girl leaned towards him, her hair tickling his face as he tried to push it off.
"You know," She purred, pressing her hand on his shoulder. "You look really hot while—"
"No." Peter pushed off her hand, not ever bothering to look at her. He brushed off her hair from his shoulder. "Shoo."
Harry winced, covering his mouth to muffle his laughter as a guy leaned towards Peter, completely enamored by the bottle of beer.
"Man, you should be dead, or like, alcohol poisoning." He shook his head, adjusting his cap. "Or some shit like that. How are you doing that?"
"I just have a higher alcohol tolerance than most–" His eyes lit up as he caught your eyes, a smile spreading across his lips as he held up his hands, making a grabbing motion with his fingers. "Baby!"
You rolled your eyes, walking over to him as you shot Harry a glare. You quickly slipped off your jacket as you eyed his thin shirt, he wasn't even shivering but it was fucking cold.
"You shouldn't be drinking so much." You snatched the bottle from his hands, ignoring his cry of protest as you set the bottle down on the counter. You touched his cheek, pushing his curls back from his forehead. "God, you're cold. Where is your jacket–peter!"
You yelped as he pulled you down on his lap, leaning back on the stool as your hands came up to his chest, gripping his thin shirt as you peered up at him. His hand holding onto your waist, holding you close to him.
"You look so pretty." He whispered as his calloused fingers caressed your cheeks, your cheeks warming as he leaned closer, his curls falling on his forehead. "So pretty for me."
"Y-yeah." You pushed his hand off, glancing at Harry who wiggled his eyebrows, nodding at you. You rolled your eyes, clutching your jacket to your chest. "It's cold, Pete. Take my jacket—"
"Shots, guys." A girl walked in, several glasses of shots on a tray as she offered them.
She raised the tray towards you and you shook your head, offering her a polite smile and she shrugged, turning away.
"I'll take one." Peter said, taking the glass. Before you could protest he brought the glass to your lips and finished the liquid in a matter of seconds. The crowd cheered and you looked at your boyfriend, stunned.
“Are you okay?” You asked as you took the glass from him, wiping the remaining liquid from his lips. "You've never drunk so much before."
“I am fine, y/n." He giggled, his hand sliding up your bare thigh, making you shiver in his arms. He brought his lips to your ear, kissing your neck softly as his hand traveled up, touching your inner thigh. “I am having fun.”
“Peter.” You closed your legs, trapping his hand in between your thighs as you looked around, hoping that nobody noticed. But that would be impossible considering you're literally sitting in the middle of a small crowd. You quickly covered your lap with the jacket, shooting him a glare. "You're drunk."
“I am not." He mumbled, pressing a sloppy kiss on your neck as his hand jerked up. You hissed as his cold watch rubbed against your thigh.
“You're really drunk." You pointed out, nodding at the beer bottles and he breathed out a laugh.
"You know I can't get drunk–
“But you are–”
“If I was drunk would I be doing this?" He chuckled against your lips, pressing his fingers against the edges of your panties and you gasped, pulling his hand out.
"Not what I thought but that's exactly what you would do if you were drunk. Which you are." You said, interlocking your fingers together as he whined. "I've never seen you be this forward with me." You giggled. "What did you do to my shy peter?"
He hummed in response, kissing your cheek. "Let me touch you, baby."
"We're in public for fuck's sake."
"If you both are done fucking on the stool," a girl, the same girl who was flirting with peter appeared, rolling her eyes. "I need a drink, care to move aside?"
“Okay." You slipped off from his lap, taking his hand, helping him stand up as he let out an annoyed huff, glancing back at the beer bottles. "We’re going home now.”
He whined, tugging at your skirt.
“You are drunk, babe. I don’t want you to get sick." You rubbed circles on the back of his hand with your thumb. "Please?"
“Fine” He pouted, slipping on your jacket, hugging it close to him as he glanced back. “Bye, guys.”
You inhaled sharply, turning to Harry. "Flash is looking for you. It's late, are you going to stay?"
"Yeah, probably." He glanced at his watch. "I'll have to help Flash with cleaning up after it's all over."
"Don't worry about her, I'll drop her off soon." He said, nodding at Peter. "Get his ass home."
"He's a mess." You laughed, kissing his cheek.
"A horny mess." Harry chuckled.
"Your mess, though." Peter kissed your neck and you patted his head.
"Yeah, my mess."
"Cool, take him home, I guess." The girl from before shrugged, sipping on a solo cup as you rolled your eyes, smiling politely at her anyways.
"Yeah, I will." You said firmly, ignoring the pang of jealousy as her eyes raked over your boyfriend who was leaning on you, playing with your hair.
“Fuck, you look so cute when you are jealous.” He giggled, kissing the tip of your nose as you led him to the door.
“I am not jealous.” You grumbled as he stopped in his tracks, pulling you back into his chest, his arms circling around your waist.
He pushed you against the bathroom door, which was right under the staircase. His hands trailed down your arms, making you shudder as you screw your eyes shut. His feather light touch caused warmth to spread under your skin like a wildfire. You reluctantly let out a whimper as his hands pushed past the hem of your skirt, his fingers crawling up your thigh. "So desperate for me," he chuckled, breathing against your neck, making your skin tingle. "all for me, sweetheart?"
You pulled away, wide-eyed, your hands clasped his wrist. He knitted his brows, a frown settling on his face as you press his hand back to his side, shaking your head as you glanced at the door. "We need to go home."
"You're right." He surprisingly complied, licking his lips as he eyed the front door. "You can't give me a blowjob in Flash's dirty bathroom." He wrinkled his nose as he patted the door. "Ew, we can do it when we get home."
"I swear to fucking god." Flash called out, leaning over the railing. "If you have sex in my bathroom–"
"Blowjob." Peter corrected him.
You quickly covered his mouth with your hand, letting out a cry of protest as he licked your palm. You scrunched your face up in disgust as you wiped your hand on his jacket.
“Why are you complaining about me licking your hand?” He cocked an eyebrow at you, “I’ve literally licked your cunt.”
You gasped. “Peter-”
"Whatever filthy shit you're planning to do." He nearly shrieked, waving his hand dismissively. "I'll kill you. I'll kill you dead. Get your horny ass home."
"Right." You muttered, slipping your hand in his as you pulled him out of the house, leaning into him as you shivered in the coolness of the night.
"Aren't you cold?" He asked, nuzzling his face in your neck and you shrugged, kissing his temple.
"I am but–I can't have you get sick so you take the jacket, yeah?" You smiled at him, pulling him to your chest. "You're too annoying when you are sick." You teased, rubbing your arms with your warm hands.
"Am I troubling you?" He asked sincerely, his eyes wide and full of love as he stared down at you when you reached the car. "I am sorry, y/n/n. You didn't need to pick me up. I should be responsible–"
"You're no trouble." You smiled, zipping up his jacket up to his chin. "You're allowed to have fun sometimes. And it's my job to take care of you so shut up." You patted his cheek. "And let me take care of you, okay?"
"Fuck yeah." He breathed out a laugh as he leaned against the door of the car. "Now that we have a car–wanna fuck here?"
You groaned, laughing nonetheless as he wiggled his eyebrows, motioning towards the ground. "Get on your knees, y/n."
"You get in the car, you asshole." You laughed, pushing him aside as you opened the door.
"We can't do it–"
“Why not?” He eyed you, glancing at the backseat of the car. He moved forward, pulling you closer by your wrist.
“I promise you, you'll look like the prettiest little angel with my cock stuffed in your mouth." He whispered, his tongue poking out to lick a stripe up your throat. You resisted the urge to melt in his arms as you tried to pull away from his grip. "Gonna look so fucking delicious with your lips wrapped around my cock."
"Peter." Your cheeks heated up as you pushed him away, motioning towards the car. "Get in, fuck, your being too forward tonight."
"Baby." He caught your wrist, pressing kisses on the back of your hand. "You can take me in the back of the car. I'll let you do anything to me."
“Anything?” You purred, pulling away from him as he nodded eagerly. He brushed the stray hair out of your face as you nibbled your bottom lip as suggestively as you could.
“Anything.” He whimpered against your lips as he pressed himself against you and you let out a soft giggle, your nails scratching the back of his neck lightly.
“You’re going to sit in the car. Shut up and let me drive.” His eyes widened in shock, gasping at your betrayal dramatically as you pushed him in the passenger seat.
He whined, pouting and jutting out his bottom lip, trying his best to look like a kicked puppy. You rolled your eyes, helping him buckle up his seat belt. He sighed and busied yourself in peppering kisses on your neck as you leaned over him.
You pulled away, giving you a stern look and he groaned in annoyance, pulling at the seat belt as your hand brushed against the bulge forming in his jeans by accident. You locked eyes with him and he offered you a cheeky grin.
"Shut up." You shut the door, walking over to your side. You slid inside the driver's seat as he grinned at you.
"I didn't say anything." He mumbled, leaning over to kiss your lips but you pushed him away.
"Fuck off." You dusted the skirt of your dress, starting the car.
“Y/n!" He whined, shifting in his seat as you sighed, eyes trained on the road ahead.
“You don’t want to kiss me anymore.” He let out a puff of air, his eyes almost brimming with tears as you laughed, glancing at him.
“I am driving, sweetheart. I can't–”
Your words get caught in your throat as his hand brushed against your bare thigh. He sucked in a breath, his fingers teasing your skin as he trailed up his fingers to pull the hem of your dress up, ducking to get a look.
"You're even wearing my favorite panties, y/n." He said, wide-eyes, mouth agape in awe. "Let me touch you please–"
You slapped his hand away, adjusting your dress as he gasped, staring at you in disbelief.
“You are not attracted to me anymore.” He scoffed, turning away from you and resting his forehead on the glass window. He sniffed, rubbing his nose as he sunk in his seat, his fingers fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket.
You glanced at him as you pulled in the parking lot of his apartment building. "I am–"
“I don’t turn you on anymore. I get it.” He whimpered, wiping his eyes as you bit your lip to muffle your laughter. You placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder, trying to regain your composure.
“Fuck, Peter." You ruffled his curls, pressing your cold hand against his neck to get his attention. "What am I gonna do with you?”
“Sit on my face?" He suggested and you puffed out a laugh, glancing at him as you giggled, your hand gripping the steering wheel.
"Your dad isn’t home, right?” He glanced out of the window. "Even if he is, we'll just lock the door and I'll stuff your panties in your mouth to keep you quiet."
“You...you can't say things like that, Peter." You breathed, your body growing hot at his words but you suppressed it. "Besides, we're at May's apartment not my dad's."
"And May isn't home." His lips twitched into a smile. "I don't even have to gag you, might do it just for fun, though. Make you taste yourself."
“Shut up!” You inhaled sharply, heat rushing to your cheeks.
“Won’t you like it, pretty girl?" His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned closer. "Gonna treat you like my good girl. Or if you want, might be your good boy tonight. Whatever my girl wants.”
“And we are here.” You ignored his words, wiping your face as you got out of the car. You jogged over to the other side, wrapping your arm around yourself as you opened the door for him. You laughed as he narrowed his eyes at you, bowing as you beckoned him to get out of the car. “My prince?”
He unfastened his seat belt, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes as he stepped out, shutting the door behind him. “I’d rather be called your slut but you don’t want me anymore.”
You breathed heavily, avoiding his gaze as you licked your chapped lips. You took his hand, leaning against his chest for warmth as you locked the door.
“Y-you're—” You cleared your throat as you stuffed the keys in his hoodie pocket, screwing your eyes shut as he wrapped his arms around you despite his sulking. “I hate you.”
“Calling me your slut gets you wet, baby?” You shook your head, pulling away from him but he pressed himself against you, feeling your curves.“You can call me anything. I’d be your slut if you want me to. I’ll be all yours.”
“God, Peter.” Your voice wavered as you placed a hand on his chest, looking up at him hesitantly as you pressed the button of the elevator. “Keep your voice down, someone might hear you.”
“There you go again!” He snapped at you, annoyed as he leaned back on the wall as he unzipped his hoodie, breathing heavily. “Why don’t you want me anymore?"
“I want ypu, trust me. I do—” You rolled your eyes, stepping into the elevator, pulling him in by his arm.The elevator doors shut with a finalizing thud and you continued. “But I can’t.”
"Why not? Don't I use my...stick right?" He sniffed, dropping his head against the wall. "You want to break up with me because I am not good at sex, don't you?"
"Did you just call your dick...a fucking stick?" You stared at him, flabbergasted at his wording.
“Tell me why we can’t fuck in the elevator?” He ignored your words, peering down at you as you sighed, holding up your hand.
“We just can’t.”
“I’ll let you fuck yourself down on my face." He said, glancing down at your legs. His eyes trailing up to your covered tits, he licked his lips.
“Gonna fuck you with my tongue while you're crying out on top of me." He said, pulling you to him. His hands trailed up your waist, up to your tits. He gave it a quick squeeze, his thumb pressing against the pebbled nipple. "Wanna eat that pussy, baby."
You pulled yourself out of his grip, but not before he dropped a feather light kiss on your neck, knocking all the air out of your lungs. You never saw him be so forward. You had your fair share of good night’s tangled in the sheets but he has never been so…vocal about how he felt. And if you were being honest, this was the hottest thing ever.
The elevator dinged as it opened on the seventh floor and you scurried out, pulling him out by tugging at his jacket. You pulled the keys out of his jeans pocket pushing the key into the lock.
He pressed himself behind you, his large hands pressing your hips back to his as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your neck as you shivered.
“Are you wet right now, baby?" He whispered, biting your earlobe. He peppered kisses down your neck, biting your sensitive skin.
“You are, aren’t you? If you are not going to touch me, will you touch yourself tonight?" He nibbled on your skin, licking the bruise forming on your skin. "Gonna put on a show for me?"
You quickly pushed the door open, walking in and shutting the door behind him. He pouted as you helped you take off his jacket, you took off your shoes, locking the door.
“We can literally have sex anywhere you want. The living room. Kitchen. The foot of my bed—”
“The foot of your bed?”
“We can try that.” He shrugged and you rolled your eyes.
Peter sighed, his shoulders dropping in defeat as he plopped down on the bed, burying his face in the blanket as his feet dangled from the edge of the bed.
You walked in, a glass of water in your hands. "Hey, sit up."
He craned his neck, smiling softly as he found you standing near the foot of the bed. He pulled himself up, accepting the glass from you with a polite smile. "Thank you, y/n."
"Drink up, sweetheart." You kissed his temple, running your fingers through his curls in order to tame the mess. He hummed leaning in your touch as he brought the glass to his lips, emptying it in a matter of seconds.
He handed you the glass and you placed it near his desk. You kissed his forehead, massaging his scalp with your fingers as he let out a sigh of content. "Feeling good?"
"Fucking euphoric." He moaned, dropping his head against your chest and you laughed, tapping his shoulder.
“Have you ever thought about me tying you to bed with my webs?" He wondered out loud as your eyes widened.
“Fuck, Peter.” You inhaled sharply, averting your eyes from him as he chuckled.
“Yes please. Fuck Peter.” He muttered as you rolled your eyes, wiping his mouth with the back of your hand as he giggled, clutching your hand to his lips and you sighed.
“No. We are not going to have sex tonight.”
"Please?" His pout flattered as you shook your head, patting his cheek.
“Come on.” You said as you walked over to the closet, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and shirt from the top rack. You placed the clothes down on the bed beside him. “Go get changed.”
“I can’t.” He muttered, stubborn.
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t get changed by myself.” He nibbled on his bottom lip, trying his best to maintain his innocent composure and you narrowed your eyes at him.
“You aren't that drunk–”
“I can’t take care of myself. Please take my clothes off.” He pleaded, a mischievous glint in his eyes that you tried your best to ignore as he raised his hands, making it easy for you to slip off his shirt. You pulled the shirt over his head, combing through his messy curls, trying to tame them.
He stretched out his arms, his abs flexing as he dropped back on the bed, his arms spread out.
“Can you not do that?” You spluttered and he raised an eyebrow at you, pointing at his abs, flexing them again much to your liking.
“You can touch them if you want." He offered and you shook your head, getting to your knees in front of him.
“Your loss." He shrugged and you sighed, undoing his shoelaces. You took off his shoes, placing them aside. You pulled off his socks, rolling them up and tossing them in the laundry basket.
"My jeans now." He mumbled and you chuckled, moving in between his legs as your fingers went up to his zipper hesitantly, unzipping his jeans.
"Now we're talking." He propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at you with a smug smile plastered on his face. "Such a good girl. Looking like an angel on her knees for me, aren't you?"
You bit your lip, slipping off his jeans, sliding them down his legs as he sighed. "Gonna suck me off, baby?"
"Peter." You stood up to your full height, pulling out his phone and wallet from his pocket and placing them on the bedside table.
"Want me to fuck your face?" He brought his hand down to caress your cheeks, tipping your chin up with his finger. "Make me cum?"
Your cheeks heated up as you pulled away. "For fuck's sake, shut up!"
“But it’s true, Y/n. I want you to make me cum so bad.”
“Please, Y/n. I'm so hard right now.” He pulled him down, over him. He pressed up against you, a groan of pleasure escaping his lips as he rocked his hips against you. You screwed your eyes shut, you could either give into the pleasure of you could–
You pushed yourself off him, falling beside him on the bed as he let out a grunt, frustration coating his features as he turned to you.
“No I can’t, Peter. You’re drunk. I really want to but I don’t want you to regret it.” You mumbled, placing a hand on his cheek.
“But I am not going to. You’re my girlfriend. We can do it.” He reassured you, moving up to kiss your lips but you brought a hand down to his shoulder, squeezing it.
“No." You said, pushing him away gently. "I can’t. I am sorry.”
"I can’t even be mad at you.” He sat up, his fingers running through his hair, tugging at them roughly as he glanced at you. “I know you’re right. How are you such a good person. Can’t you just turn that rational part off and just fuck me?”
“I totally would but-”
“You can’t, I get it. You’re right. You’re so good sometimes I hate you.” He shifted closer to you, pushing stray hair out of your face. He pecked your cheek, dropping his head in the crook of your neck.
“Shut up.” He mumbled under his breath, pulling away from you. You reached for his clothes but he was already crawling over to his side of the bed.
“Wear it–" You started but he shook his head, curling up under the blankets.
“Put on some clothes, babe." You insisted.
"No, I am hot." He grumbled into the pillow, pulling the blanket up to his face.
“It’s a bit chilly-”
“Okay fine.” You raised up your hands in mock defense as you moved over to the end of the bed.
Peter groaned as his phone rang, squinting at the screen as he accepted the call.
"'ello?" He mumbled, the phone held loosely in his hand.
You giggled as you pulled off your dress, folding it neatly and placing it on his desk. You turned to face the mirror, picking up his comb and combing your hair as you turned to Peter who leaned back on the bed.
"Mis'er stark?" He yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he rolled over, his eyes widening as his gaze landed on you.
"How much did you drink, kid?" Tony chuckled from the other side.
"Kid." Tony warned.
"A lot." He confessed, smiling to himself sheepishly as you giggled, your hands reaching back to unclasp your bra. It fell down your shoulders and you caught it, placing it on his desk.
His eyed you, drinking in your half naked body as heat rushed to your cheeks. You covered your tits with your hands, turning away from him teasingly.
"We're going to have a long talk about that." Tony inhaled sharply.
"Yeah." Peter mumbled, his eyes fixated over your body. You chuckled as you slipped on a shirt.
“Is y/n with you? Tony asked. "She didn't take her phone with her."
"Yeah she is. She's looking like an angel, Mr. Stark." He muttered dreamily as you shot him a look, pulling on the sweatpants.
"Yeah?" Tony smiled.
"Yeah." He agreed, his smile widening as you rolled your eyes. "Looking so beautiful like this. God, I love her."
Tony let out a light chuckle in response.
"Looking like a fucking angel in just her panti–"
"Yeah, that's enough!" You quickly pulled the phone from his grip, your eyes widening as you glared at Peter.
You quickly hung up, crawling in the bed with him as he whined.
"What was that?" You said as you slipped inside the blanket, snuggling close to him. He sniffed, placing his head on chest as he wrapped an arm around your waist.
"S'fine, baby." You patted his cheek. He shuffled impossibly closer to you, tucking his head under your chin, his cheek squished against your clothed boobs.
His hand slid up your waist, you sighed, your body melting in the warmth radiating off his body. He brought his hand up to your chest, placing it on your boob. He whined as you slapped it away.
"Let me touch your boobs." He whimpered, rubbing his face in between your boobs as you laughed but shook your head.
"No." You giggled, your fingers threaded in his curls.
"Give me your bra then." He muttered, you cocked an eyebrow at him.
"It's the closest thing to your boobs." He shrugged nonchalantly and you stared at him in disbelief.
“Are you seriou-?”
"Fine." You crawled over to the edge, fetching your bra from his desk and handed it to him.
You chuckled to yourself as he smiled, turning around and snuggling in his pillow, with your bra in his hands. You crawled over to him, kissing his cheeks as you wrapped an arm around his waist.
He groaned as he twisted around in the sheets. His head pounded as he tried to sit up with his back to the headboard for support. He blinked at the red bra bunched up in between his fingers, his brows knitting in confusion.
“Oh, you’re awake.” You said. You were standing near the doorway and he blinked a couple of times at the sharp sunlight. “I’ll get you some Advil.”
You came back with the medicine and a glass of water. He took the medicine as you rubbed his forehead and he rested his head on his shoulder.
“I am never drinking ever again.” He grumbled and you giggled, kissing his forehead.
"Well, not as much as you drunk last night." You pulled his head up, kissing the corner of his mouth. "But you can have a little. In limit, alright?"
He nodded, his gaze falling upon your bra in his hand. His cheeks flushed as he caught you eyeing the bra with a small smile.
"Why do I…?" His blush deepened as he held up the bra, searching your eyes. "Why do I have this?"
You chuckled, "I said you couldn't touch my boobs–"
"And I asked for your bra because it was the closest thing to your boobs." He squinted at you in disbelief. "I can't believe I did that."
"So you remember?"
You laughed, wiping his mouth with the end of your sleeve as he leaned closer to you.
“Thank you for not sleeping with me last night." He glanced at you, his voice small. "Even though I insisted–it wouldn't be right."
“Of course, Pete. You shouldn’t thank me for doing the bare minimum.” You placed a kiss on the crown of your head. “Even though it was hard with everything you were saying.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” He groaned, his head dropping in his hands.
"You're a whore when you're drunk!" You cracked up, your eyes crinkling as you wheezed. "You said so many dirty things–"
“I know what I said!” He blushed, swatting at your shoulder but you only laughed harder, causing him to crack a smile.
“I didn’t know you had it in you." You wiped a tear from the corner of your eye. "You asked me if you could fuck my face–"
"You asked me to sit on your face–"
"You said I'd look so pretty with your cock stuffed in my mouth, peter." Your hand came up to muffle your giggles as you watched the tips of his ears turn red. "You said you wanted to be my slut–my good boy–"
"You almost told my dad about me being in my panties in front of you–”
"Shut up!" He buried his face in the pillow.
“Every word that came out of your mouth was basically porn." You tapped his butt and he whined. "It was quality porn, though. I am telling you.”
9K notes · View notes
Peter Parker [Favourites]
this is an overview of some of the best peter parker fics out there - this list covers all tropes
* = smut
* Don't Hold Back - @hollandcrush
two hormonal students wander into a room during a frat party, what could possibly happen? maybe you discover that under his heart made of pure gold lurks a hidden powerful, dominant side
Sunset Lovers - @duskholland
you’ve never met your soulmate, but you know his handwriting like the back of your hand...literally - every word your soulmate writes on his skin appears on yours, and vice versa - you’re desperate to meet him, but until the universe decides to introduce you, you’re stuck with scribbled smiley faces and chemistry formulae
Was It Worth It - @kelieah
reader and peter are married with a baby, after every mission she questions if it “was it worth it” but as she becomes muddled up in a dangerous mission, peter doesn't know if it is worth it anymore
Disappointed - @dlwritings
the events of endgame have taken their toll on peter - unfortunately, this means you’re left picking up his broken pieces, and you’re not sure how much more strength you have to help him
His Plan - @dlwritings
you’re far too shy to tell peter how you feel about him - you always have been, he’s shy about it too, but decides to bite the bullet and confess a couple things to you on the school trip to europe - his plan doesn’t, however, account for you feeling the same
The Storm - @starlordsandrockets
peter parker was the last person you wanted to be partnered with for your class presentation - now you were forced to spend the day with him but your loathing soon turns into something quite different when the day is over
Just For Tonight - @cloudybarnes
peter accidentally tells the avengers he has a girlfriend and now they all wanna meet her. in an attempt to not look like a liar, he recruits his best friend y/n to fake date him for the night so he can introduce them to her
* What Good Boys Do - @vampireinbusiness
can you do one about shy peter and his love for readers short skirts like he gets so flustered seeing her in them but he always touches her and him going down on his knees to eat her out with them on
Remember That Night - @tinyyoungblood
peter spends a night on omegle and comes across a sleeping girl. peter decides not to skip her - he reads to her and talks to her about his problems, and when she finally wakes, they lose themselves in endless conversation until she hits him with the “see you in a different life, bye peter
Better Half - @ptersmj
where you fall asleep on peters lap after a mission and he just takes care of you?
Trouble In Paradise - @ptersmj
peter loves giving y/n hickies - when they at a pool party with the rest of the avengers, everyone starts teasing her about them
Honor - @itsapeterthing
your best friend peter parker who has a secret crush on you catches your boyfriend cheating with another girl
Invisible String (Series) - @peterbenjiparker
you were content with the way your life was, until you woke up with a red string wound around your fingertips and the red string just had to link you to your best friend, peter - now you were subjected to a possible life of no love as you watched peter, your soulmate, fall for someone else all the while getting fucked over by the universe in the worst way possible
Drunk On You - @peterbenjiparker
peter calls you from a frat party after getting drunk to get over you while you were out on a date
* Your Mess - @peterbenjiparker
peter got drunk at flash's party and you have to take care of him
* Wet Dreams - @selfcarecap
what the title says - also, friends to lovers
Time After Time (Series)- @softspideys
peter parker is your worst enemy, but he’s also your soulmate. life is funny that way
Sweet Dreams, Parker - @marvelousmrsmarvel
being a full-time student is exhausting in itself, let alone being an avenger as well. you and peter both knew the feeling a little too well. so, when peter is losing sleep over finals week, you step in to help get his sleeping schedule back on track
Of Sleep & Safety - @florenceyelena
in which peter parker slumps into your room exhausted and you have to try and get him into bed despite the height difference between you
Can't Lose You - @ms-misery
you're trying to get over your best friend but no matter how hard you try you just can't seem to do it
* Secret - @celestialbarnes
you and peter have been dating for a few months now, and in order to keep your dad and the team in the dark, you two sneak around, not knowing that the entire team already knew, everyone but tony of course, chaos ensues
Cuddles - @parkersdoll
peter has a bad day, all he can think about is you
Can't Escape (Series)- @asonofpeter
life moves fast out in the suburbs, you live the perfect life with your mother and father but when you start to crave for more meaning in life than just westview, your mother does every thing in her power to make sure you don’t leave - can you ever imagine what’s on the other side of ellis avenue?
* Vacation (Series) - @scarletspideyy
it’s peter parker’s senior year class trip, all he wants is a break from the stress of high school and his spider-man duties - to his surprise, he gets the vacation he always wanted but it doesn’t come without its own personal trouble; love
* Break It In - @simplyparker
peter gets his first car, and you want to have some fun
Hopelessly Devoted To You - @spiritualchange
what can he say, peter is just devoted to you
* The Birthday Boy - @noobsquasher
it's peter's birthday and you celebrate it by giving him a memorable lap dance
Perfectly A Little Late - @t-lostinworlds
with all things college, two jobs, tutoring on weekends and another at the bakery downtown, you're one busy girl - peter completely understands that of course, admires it even but it doesn't make it sting any less when you just so happen to forget about his birthday
Kiss Me More - @celestialholland
you and peter make out for the first time
* Pretend I'm Not Here - @thighs-of-betrayal-blog
peter asking you to touch yourself in front of him like you do when you're alone
Caffeine - @waitimcomingtoo
peter’s shyness makes him an easy target at his new job, but one co-worker always stands up for him
* Rings, Rings, Rings - @vintagemulti
in which your boyfriends newfound love towards jewellery affects you more than you expected
Halftime - @eloquenceflores
your cute nerdy bf takes care of you during the half-time of the football game you’re cheering at
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Satiated - Bucky Barnes
Warnings - smut, swearing, kinda hair pulling, praise kink, size kink, innocence kink, subspace, oral (f receiving), fingering, cockwarming, fluffyyyyy, teeny lil bit of angst, terrible writing, idk it's just nAsty lol. Established relationship btw!
Characters - dom!bucky barnes x virgin!fem!reader
Summary - y/n wants bucky to be her first. Bucky doesnt know shes a virgin. Smut ensues.
Authors notes - this has been in my drafts since I first started my tumblr so it's terrible for the first bit but it gets better (hopefully?)
You was so sure that this was it. Tonight would be the the night. You were finally going to give up your virginity. To Bucky.
You meant to tell him that you were a virgin. Really, you did. But it just never came up. You had been with Bucky for just over four months now. There was no point in keeping it from the others, mostly because of how clingy you were with him. It was strange for you; being this clingy - this needy - with someone. You'd never felt anything like it before. Granted, you'd never had a boyfriend before Bucky, he was your first kiss too. Not that he knew any of that, of course. But with him you felt so at home. You didn't think he'd need to know. It wouldnt make any affect, right?
You'd set the mood, you thought, just right. You didn't want to throw sex in his face so you opted for your LED strip lights to be set to a light red with the main light off. You were wearing his longsleeve Beatles tshirt and a pretty cute lingerie set that you bought in preparation. You decided against wearing shorts, after all, the mission was to fuck the guy, why let another bit of clothing get in the way?
"Hey doll, I'm back," Bucky's infuriatingly attractive voice rang out. He'd just gotten back from a HYDRA mission. You knew he hated going on those missions, especially when you weren't with him. You rushed over to him.
"Hi there darling," you wrapped one arm around his neck and the other went under his shoulder, crushing the life out of him in a hug. He returned it with equal force which made a grin wriggle its way onto your face.
"How was it?" You pulled away and smushed his face in between your hands, "are you okay? Did you need to go to the medi lab? Do you need another hug? Do you want to eat? I think I have some snacky things in my mini fridge but-"
"Doll, I'm fine," he interrupted, moving your hands from his face and putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder, "I didn't get hurt and I'm not hungry. I will take you up on that hug though. Can we watch something shit and cuddle? I missed you."
You almost melted at his little pout, "okay baby, why don't you climb into bed and I'll sort out some of The Flash, yeah?"
He leaned down to kiss your forehead before pulling away and getting under the covers. You went to turn on the TV and pulled up The Flash. You were well aware that Bucky was staring at your ass, which was sticking out of the bottom of his tshirt, giving him a peek of the lavender lace that barely covered you.
When you were done, you turned to see him with blown pupils but a calm smile on his face. He beckoned you over and you skipped towards him happily, your high ponytail swishing behind you. You jumped onto the bed and wiggled under the duvet with him.
Bucky immediately wrapped has arms around you and pulled you literally on top of him. You whined at him and squirmed.
"Buckyyyyy I can't seeeeeee!"
"Don't whine doll, you said so yourself that it's shit. So just stay here with me, yeah?" He held you tighter against him so you complied.
"Y'know, I have the best boyfriend, like, ever. Like it's not even funny anymore you're just awesome," you rested your chin in between his ribs and smiled so wide it was almost a grimace. He rolled his eyes at you.
"You're a sap, dollface," he was smiling, though, so it proved that he liked it.
You sent him a wink and sat up so that you were straddling him over the hips. His eyes bugged out for a second but he tried to play it cool. He leaned up to peck you on the lips.
"Hey there, princess," he murmured, smiling softly.
You kissed him again, deeper this time and with more passion. Bucky didn't seem to object so you pressed further, tounge edging into the seam of his lips and parting them. He grunted in response and sucked in the muscle, sitting upright now. His hands wandered down to your ass and squeezed, gently at first but his grip got firmer when you whined into the kiss. Bucky smirked and pulled away, eliciting another whine from you.
"What's got you like this, little one?" You shivered at the nickname. He noticed.
You distracted yourself from his words by rolling your hips on his. The sensation of it was sending chills down your spine making you shiver and your thighs tense. You could feel yourself getting... aroused.
"Like what, Buck?" You wiggled a bit on his lap, finally feeling that hardness under you that you'd never felt before.
"Like this," he muffled a gasp from your movement, "all... horny,"
You bit your lip and buried your face in his neck, groaning at his words, "stoooooop!"
"Whyyyyyyy? I just wanna know!" He insisted.
He wrapped one hand around your waist and the his prosthetic metal one in your hair. He pulled you back by the hair at the nape of your neck, the tiny bit of pain made you let out a moan.
"What's going on with you?!" He'd never seen you like this before.
You looked down, still firmly sat on his now very evident erection and played with the fingers of his flesh hand after prying it from your waist.
"I just- I can't-" you groaned at your inability to form a proper sentence.
"Just take a breath," you nodded, "and tell me what you want."
"I want you," you whined, "bubba please,"
"What do you mean doll- like-" you interrupted with another roll of your hips, praying that he understood. "Oh, oh,"
You nodded helplessly and grinded against him more, desperate for him to help you with the wetness that had built up from the friction between the two of you.
"You mean like, now?" He tried not to respond to your unintentional teasing but he was hard as a fucking rock because of you and your flimsy lilac panties, "y'know we don't have to if you don't wanna,"
"Baby please!" You weren't trying to be bratty, he was just taking so long and after 25 years of never orgasming, you were a little frustrated.
"Jesus Christ! Calm down doll, if I didn't know any better I'd say this was your time," he joked. But you tensed up. Oh god. Did he know?
You laughed it off, but Bucky's supersoldier senses made him acutely aware that your heart rate sped up and your breathing stopped.
"Doll if it's your first time we don't have to-"
"But Bucky I wanna! I promise. I wasn't even gonna tell you because I knew that you'd treat me like glass-- and- and that's why i never said that you were my first kiss either-" you cut him off but he returned the favour with an incredulous gasp.
"I WAS YOUR FIRST KISS? AND YOU WOULDN'T HAVE TOLD ME?!" He sounded angry. His grip on your hips tightened and you winced.
"I- I'm sorry Bucky! Just didn't wanna make you worried I-" His grip tightened more, vibranium fingers digging into your bones, "ouch Bucky!"
His hand instantly retracted and he looked mortified, staring at your skin that was already yellowing from his grip.
"See doll! This is why you should've told me! I could hurt you, darling! I don't ever wanna do that," his eyes were still glued to the still-forming bruise, tears welling in his pondwater eyes.
"You could never hurt me, Buck! Not really; not on purpose!" You protested. He didn't seem convinced in the slightest, more focused on the purplish red pigmentation coming to life on your hips.
"Oh honey, it's okay! It doesn't hurt and look, look, it's fading already," that was a lie, by the morning those bruises would probably be black and blue. Not that Bucky needed to know that, "and it's alright darling, it's not you're fault, remember? You can't always feel how strong your new hand is, yeah? My big strong Bucky,"
You could see him trying to fight a smile but he refused to meet your eye.
"C'mon Bucky! How am I ever meant to learn how to take care of you if you dont teach me?" You insisted. Bucky finally raised his gaze, along with his right eyebrow.
"Teach you?" He wore a smirk now.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
"Well, think about it, baby. I mean, I've never even kissed anyone. How could I possibly know how to- how to-" your confidence faulters almost immediately, failing to realise theres no need to be embarrassed when you're with your Bucky.
"To what, princess? To suck my cock? Y' wanna know how to suck m'cock? Or d'you wanna learn how to ride me? Hmm? Learn how to milk m'cock like a good little girl?" He teased. You shuddered against him, leaning further into his perfectly sculpted pectorals. "Oh, I think you do. I think that you wanna be my best girl, huh? My perfect little sub, yeah?"
You nodded against him, but that didn't seem to satisfy Bucky.
"Use your words with me, baby, yeah? Y'gotta use your words with me or else I won't know what you want," holy heck, even when he's dominating you to all hell, he's so sweet and gentle with you. It made you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.
"Yes, Bucky," you mumbled, reluctantly un-hiding your head from his warm body when a sharp tug at the roots of your hair prompted you away.
"Good girl, well done, honey," he praised you beautifully. You felt the urge to shy away from his compliments, but instinctually you knew that he wouldn't accept that.
"Thank you d- hmm Bucky," he obviously heard your blunder but didn't focus on it, opting instead to stroke soothingly across the expanse of your thighs.
"Okay baby. Just one more thing, I want you to have a safeword, m'kay?" You nodded, "this is just in case y'wanna stop or I do something you don't like, yeah? I won't go too hard on you tonight. Wanna make it all special for you. My little princess,"
"Thank you, bubba," shyly, you pressed a kiss to his cheek which made him grin widely.
"Can you tell me what you want your safeword to be, m'love?"
"I- uh," you were half tempted to give him a stupid answer but this meant a lot to him and you could see it in his eyes.
"C'mon, little girl, don't get all shy on me now," he lilted.
"I- uh, red? I think? I-it's easy to remember, I guess?" His hand had moved from your thighs to your ass, moulding it into any shape he deemed appropriate.
"Well done, princess," he rewarded you with a kiss to the forehead. Then the cheek. Then nose. Finally, the lips. As soon as he pulled away, you chased his lips with a pout and a whine.
"Now now, little girl. Dont get whiny," he lilted.
"Bubba kissy pleaseeee," you whined pathetically.
"Okay honey, but just know that you can't always get what you want with that cute little pout of yours," he relented, pushing his lips against yours. You whimpered into the kiss, grinding yourself down against him to relieve some of the pressure that had built up over your conversation.
He seemed to love it, grappling at your ass and pulling you further onto his raging hard-on. His tongue slipped into your mouth, licking over your teeth and smoothing itself over your own tongue.
"Lay down for me, little girl," he prompted, lightly tapping your bum and moving you to lie on your back. You scrambled to stay on top of him, clinging to his thighs and securing your arms around his neck, "it's okay, honey, I'm staying with you. Not going anywhere, yeah?"
"Staying," you echoed blearily, finally slipping off of him and lying down.
"Good girl," he confirmed, spreading your legs and settling in between them.
He tugged on the bottom of your shirt as a question to which you raised your arms and lifted up slightly. He pulled it off of your body and sat back on his heels to admire you. Bucky had never particularly been fond of the colour lilac but at that moment he had fallen in love with it.
"Sweetie you look... edible," he growled, "can I take it off?"
"Yes, daddy," your eyes widened at your own words, immediately covering your own mouth and retracting from his soothing hands. Your mind was racing 'oh god what did I just do? Does he hate me?'
"Say that again," he demanded, groaning and resting his head on your shoulder. You keened at that, letting out a sigh of relief that he enjoyed it.
"Yes, daddy," you brushed your lips to his ears, an almost tangible fog settling on your mind. It comforted you.
"Fuck," he lifted himself from your shoulder, undressing you quickly and throwing his head back at what he saw.
"I'm gonna fuckin' eat you for dinner," he rumbled. He moved your thighs even further apart, almost painfully so, and leaning down so his face was level with your pussy, "oh, honey look at you! You're soaking for me! So wet for your daddy,"
You whined and raised your hips in an attempt to get any type of friction. He pushed them down but ducked his head with you.
"Shh, it's okay baby. Daddy's here, I'll take care of you," he squeezed your thigh gently, "y' ready?"
"Please, daddy, pretty please," you tentatively moved your hands into his hair. He rewarded your boldness with a kiss to your pussy lips. It felt like heaven, even though he'd done next to nothing.
After that, he went all out; he spread your lips by dragging his tongue through them. Your fingers tugged on his hair as harsh as you dared, albeit not that hard. He seemed to love it though, moving to suck carefully on your clit. You let out a whiny moan, loving the new sensation. You'd never touched yourself before; never had an orgasm. This was all new to you and it felt so fucking good.
He suckled and pulled at your clit, slowly moving his index finger to your hole. He didn't enter you with his finger, opting instead to circle it gently, getting you used to the feeling if being touched there.
"Oh, daddy! S' good," you babbled, lost in another world of pleasure. He moaned against you when you tugged his silky locks harder. "D-daddy can you- can you please put your finger in? Pretty please?"
"Of course honey, but it might hurt. Hold my hand, 'kay? Squeeze it if it hurts, don't be afraid," he smiled at you oh so sweetly and offered you his metal hand. Your grip in his hair slackened and you moved your right hand into his flesh one, smacking his metal one out of the way.
"But honey," he protested, but you gave him no room to argue.
"Daddy! Wanna have your fingers in me please! I'll be a good girl I promise, jus' want your fingers," you argued. He complied, intertwining his fleshy fingers with yours and sitting up to get a better angle so he could position his metal ones by your entrance.
"Oh? Does my little girl want my metal fingers in her? Kinky little girl," he grinned at you.
"Yes daddy, please," you whimpered. Bucky kept his grin and pushed his middle finger against your entrance. You held your breath as it slipped into you. It was definitely painful, not unbearably so but still uncomfortable.
Your hand clenched around his while your other one sought purchase on the bicep of his metal arm. Bucky, always the detective, saw that you were struggling and gave you a moment to adjust.
"Tell me when to move, m'love," he urged kindly. You were more greatful than ever before for how beautiful his personality was. So kind. So loving.
It took you more than a minute to relax; muscles tensing and untensing around his vibrainium fingertips. When you were ready, you gave him the go-ahead so he started shallowly thrusting his finger in and out.
After that, it didn't take long before you were whining and begging for another finger. 'Another another another, daddy!' Of course, he had admonished you for being so bratty but he didn't turn you down. He thought you looked so pretty when you were begging for him.
"Daddy!" You whimpered, a strange pressure building between your thighs, heating up to an unbearable pleasure that you felt.
"Aw, baby, y'gunna cum?" He smiled. Before you could respond, he pulled out his fingers unexpectedly.
"Daddy!" You fussed, tingly feeling still strong in your core and thoroughly unsatisfied. The fog was like a blanket now; covering you up and keeping you warm.
"Shh, don't whine, baby. Don't want you to cum now and be too sensitive before I get you on m'cock now, do we?" Smoothing his hand over your hip, smearing your arousal over it.
"No daddy, sorry daddy," you conceded, terrified that you did anything wrong. You wanted to be daddy's good girl.
"No, sweetie, don't be sorry, you did nothing wrong," he reassured. You sighed, so thankful that you hadn't done anything wrong.
"Daddy?" You looped your arms around his neck.
"Yes, doll?" You rested one side of your head on his, still annoyingly clothed, pectoral.
"Can I have your cock now?" Glazed over eyes stared longingly at his own.
"Of course, little one," he pulled his shirt over his head, fucking finally. Your eyes stayed glued to his abs because 'fucking hell he's so fucking hot holy shit'.
"Thank you, daddy," your fingers pressed into his muscles.
"Sweetie, how d'you wanna do this?" He moved your hands from his abdomen gently so he could remove his jeans. Beneath them, you could see how truly massive he was and fuck he looks so good.
"Baby?" He asked again, snapping you out of your trance.
You didn't answer him verbally, instead moving onto his lap and settling comfortably on his raging erection. After his assault on your clit earlier, you felt extra sensitive and that pressure against your bare core made you convulse in pleasure.
"Okay sweetie, okay," he kept that calming smile plastered on his face, gently urging you to sit up so that he could remove his boxers. You kept his eyes glued to his face until it faltered in pleasure. Looking down, you saw it. Over eight inches and thick as all hell.
"Daddy?" Your head lolled to the side, watching as his hand moved up and down it at a moderate pace.
"Yes, doll?" Groaning, his eyes locked on yours.
"How will that fit in me?" He laughed at that, so fond of your innocence.
"It'll fit, little one, don't worry," he assured you, using his metal hand to gently stroke your hip.
You reached out to grab his cock but he was quick to move you away.
"No, sweetie," he moved your hand into his hair so you could play with it if you wanted to. You whined at him, claiming that you wanted to make him feel good, "you will make me feel good, honey. When I cum inside that sweet little pussy of yours I'll feel so good I promise,"
"Okay, daddy," you leaned against his broad shoulder as he circled your hips against his cock.
"Y'ready, princess?" He double-checked for what seemed to be the tenth time. You responded by reaching for his length and lining it up with your entrance.
Ever so gently, he slid you down onto his cock. If he hadn't opened you up with his fingers earlier, you would have been in a lot more pain. He kept his hands on you when you were all the way down on him; moving them to your tits and rolling your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, causing even more pleasure to spike in your body.
You moaned loudly when he brought his mouth onto your left breast, suckling on your nipple, giving you the most pleasure you'd ever felt in your tits.
Adjusting took a few minutes but when you got used to it, you got impatient very fast. He noticed it when you grinded against him, shuddering at the immense feeling of his cock brushing against your inner walls. He couldn't bring himself to move away from your nipple, though, so he kept sucking while he moved both his hands to your hips and lifted you up so you were only halfway sheathed on his length. He secured you there so you were suspended on his cock, thrusting his hips up to meet yours. His pubic bone brushed against your clit and you were in heaven; his mouth on your tit, cock in your pussy and delicious friction on your bundle of nerves.
"Oh daddy! Feels so good!" You gasped out a breath, overwhelmed by pleasure and all of a sudden, you were falling. Falling deep into a delicious subspace. And there was that overwhelming buildup of pressure in your core again. "Daddy?"
He finally pulled off of your tit, leaving you cold without the warmth of his mouth, "yeah sweetie? What's up?"
Still thrusting up into you at a steadily inclining pace, Bucky found it hard to believe that this was your first time. You were so lost in pleasure that you hadn't acknowledged his words.
"Doll?" He punctuated his sentence with a sharp thrust to your g-spot, making you see stars.
"Daddy? I-I feel-" you didn't know what you felt. Full. For sure, you felt full. Bucky's girth was splitting you in two.
"What d'ya feel, doll? Y'gunna cum? Gonna cum all over daddy's cock like my good little girl?" He teased you, kissing along your neck, bruising it whenever he saw fit.
"Yes daddy! Please, please can I cum?" You begged.
"Of course, little one, cum on daddy's cock," he encouraged. As soon as he gave permission, you let go.
You'd never felt pleasure like that, vision going white and violently clamping down on Bucky's cock, causing his eyes to roll back into his head and cumming inside of you. You fell blindly even deeper into the blissful state that made you feel oh so warm and fuzzy on the inside.
You didn't stir for a while after that. Not until Bucky gently attempted to move you off of him.
"No daddy! Nonononono!" You scrambled to stay leaning against his chest, "no movin daddy, stayin here,"
"Honey, we have to get you cleaned up," he reminded you.
"Daddy no! Have to stay with daddy," you insisted. He ran a soothing hand through your hair.
"Okay, princess, we can stay here," he relented, "but 's not daddy anymore, is it? 'S Bucky again, remember?"
"Nuh-uh, 's daddy. 'N I'm daddy's baby," you babbled, reaching to play with his fingers.
"No baby, it's Bucky. C'mon, baby, y'gotta come back f'me, yeah?" He urged you ever so carefully, scared that if he pushed too far then you would go deeper into subspace.
"No baby, say it with me 'Bucky', yeah?"
"Bucky," you repeated. "Bucky!"
"That's right m'love! Are y' back with me now?" He asked.
"Yeah, 'm back baby," you muzzled your face in his neck, hyperaware that his cock was half hard again in your cunt but your legs ached too much to do anything about it.
"Well done honey, how d'you feel?" He checked.
"What in all hell does that mean?"
"Your a 100 year old assassin and you don't know basic English?"
"You speak English!"
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