Why Don’t We Just Run Away? (tasm!Peter x Reader)
Summary: reluctant early mornings make you and Peter realize you both need a vacation
Warnings: None! Just some fluffy cuddly stuff.
A/N: I haven’t really written anything in well over a year now, so I am a little rusty. But here is this little thing that popped into my head this morning as I snoozed my alarm 100 times. It was fun getting back on the bicycle, so to speak, so I hope you enjoy!
The shrill sound of your alarm cut through the still silence of the morning.
You held in a groan, face scrunching up in distaste as you reached over to turn off the offending noise, cool air hitting your now exposed arm. You pressed the snooze and quickly pulled your arm back under the covers, your body naturally pressing further into the warm chest at your back. Peter's arm around your waist tightened in response, pulling you closer to him as he let out a soft sigh into your hair. You kept your sleepy eyes shut, trying to savor the moment, the feeling of being wrapped so tightly in Peter's arms. It always made you feel safe, these moments; safe and protected and loved beyond measure by the honey-eyed boy you were lucky to call yours.
The thought made you smile. You turned around in his arms, feeling a little too eager now to see his face. His eyes were still closed, ever the late riser, though you could tell by the way his chest was moving that your alarm had disturbed his slumber just as much as it had yours. You slotted one leg between both of his, burying your face into the crook of his neck and placing a small kiss there.
“Morning, bug,” his voice was raspy when he spoke, thick with sleep in a way that always made you feel like a thousand butterflies were fluttering away in your stomach.
“Morning, love,” you sighed happily against his neck, feeling especially endeared to him today. “What if I didn't go to work today? What if we stayed like this forever?”
Peter kissed the top of your head, his hand rubbing up and down your spine slowly. “I'll never be opposed to you playing hooky to stay here with me.”
You both knew you were bluffing, that you would, against all odds, pull yourself out of the warmth of your shared bed and inevitably head off into another long day at your job. But in this moment, as Peter pulled your body away from his just enough to hook a finger under your chin and tilt your head up to finally look into his eyes, you couldn’t help but wish you could stay in this bubble until the end of time.
Peter’s lips found yours in a slow, familiar rhythm, languid and unhurried despite knowing your time was limited. You hummed into his mouth, pressing yourself further into him and deepening the kiss but keeping his slow pace as you ran your hand over his bare chest.
All at once, your alarm sounded again, causing you to part from Peter with a frustrated groan, gently knocking your forehead against his.
He chuckled at you, placing a kiss on your nose, “Damn clock. A cockblock if I’ve ever seen one.”
Peter released you, falling flat on his back as you reluctantly rolled away from him to turn the alarm off for the second time, the numbers glaring at you, reminding you of all your responsibilities.
Sighing, you tucked yourself back into his side, head on his chest, his arm easily finding its place around you. “What if we just ran away together?”
His slender fingers drew gentle shapes on your back. “Don’t tempt me, baby. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
You sat up a little to face him, causing his hand to fall flat against your back, stilling its movements. “I mean it. What if we did? Just for a little bit? A break from responsibilities and stress and, and…”
You trailed off, but the words you didn’t say hung heavy in the air.
“…and from Spider-Man.”
Peter looked down, focusing on your hand on his chest, unable to stop the wave of guilt that suddenly crashed over him. It’s true, he had been especially busy recently with what the two of you called his “After Hours Job.” Spider-Man had had more on his plate in the past three months than Peter could’ve ever imagined, and truthfully he missed the days of petty car theft and bank robberies. And he was tired. Exhausted, really. If it weren’t for you, he wasn’t sure how he’d keep going. Maybe a break would be nice.
Your voice broke him out of his thoughts. “Pete, I really didn’t mean anything by that.”
He brought his eyes back to yours, surprised to find them looking so apologetic while he felt he was the one at fault, and he took your hand in his, interlacing your fingers and giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “No, no, you’re right. I have been sorta absent lately. I’m sorry, bug.”
Your heart ached at the sound of his voice, so small, so full of regret. “It’s okay. I’m not upset. I’m just worried about you overworking yourself.” You’re earnest in your words, your concern always with Peter’s needs before your own.
Peter sighed, running his free hand through his messy hair. The early morning sunlight peeking through the window made him glow, and though you could better see how worn he was the brighter the room became, you couldn’t help but admire his beauty.
You brought your joined hands up to your lips and kissed the back of his palm. “You deserve good things, Peter Parker. Like rest and relaxation and at least the bare minimum. New York doesn’t give their superheroes two weeks paid vacation?”
His laugh made you feel warm inside, relieved to see the crease in his brow disappear.
“They’d have to pay me at all first.” He was looking down as he said it, his focus on his fingers fiddling with yours. His smile slowly faded, eyes still trained on your hands as he added, “and besides, I have good things. I have you. That’s all I need.”
You pulled your hand from his to cup his face, bringing him to look at you. “I love you, Peter. You deserve this and more.” You paused, then added, “And also a vacation.”
He laughed again, smiling fondly at your tenacity. “Okay, yeah, a vacation would be nice. Let’s do it.”
This time, you knew Peter was the one bluffing. Peter didn’t do vacations; he was too anxious that something catastrophic would happen while he was gone, something Spider-Man would’ve been able to prevent. Blood on his hands forever, he’d said before.
Nevertheless, you gave him your best excited grin and a quick peck on his lips, deciding to drop the topic for now as your alarm sounded for the third time.
You silenced the shrill ringing for good and began your morning routine, setting off for work half an hour later with another kiss to Peter’s lips and well wishes for the day.
And as the door to your shared apartment shut, Peter opened his laptop and began his search for plane tickets.
A vacation, he thought, his mouse hovering over the button that would seal his fate. I can do a vacation.
Thank you, Mr. Parker. Your flight has been booked.
Study or Sleep
Pairing: tasm!Peter Parker x reader
Summary: Peter finds Y/N studying in the middle of the night
Warnings: none really just cute fluffy Peter Parker content
a/n: a really short one shot that i came up with during my finals week
i’m also officially done with school for a few months so i’m trying to get back into the swing of writing as much as i can!
masterlist + taglist
(gif found on google, creds to owner)
Peter woke to an empty bed, reaching for you sleepily only to find that the sheets were cold, blankets cast aside, and you nowhere to be found. Glancing bleary eyed at the clock on the bedside table, he saw that it was 4:20AM, so why weren’t you asleep?
He crawled out of bed sleepily, grabbing a random shirt off the floor and making his way out to the living room, where he found you huddled in a blanket and hunched over your laptop, typing away furiously. A small smile made its way across Peter’s face at the sight of your concentrated pout as he leaned against the doorway and watched you work.
God, you were so beautiful.
Peter wasn’t sure how he was so lucky to be with someone as perfect and beautiful as you were. He was completely. 100%, without a doubt, in love with you.
In his admiration of you, he hadn’t noticed that you’d become aware of him lurking in the hallway, and was now peering out at him with wide eyes.
“Oh my god, did I wake you?” You gasped, covering your mouth with a hand. “I’m so sorry, Pete, I—”
“No! No, no, you didn’t wake me. I had to go to the bathroom and saw you weren’t in bed.” He replied quickly, padding over to the sofa you were curled up on and sitting cross-legged next to you. “What are you doing up so late?”
“Got a bunch of stuff due at the end of the week, I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d try to get some work done,” You sighed, shoulders slumping. Peter could tell that even though you said you couldn’t sleep, you were exhausted.
He’d noticed that you’d been working nonstop for the past few weeks, often staying glued to your laptop until you passed out at the kitchen counter, or the couch, or wherever you’d settled to get stuff done. This, along with going to your classes, your job at the campus gym, and your internship at Oscorp Industries, Peter worried that you might be spreading yourself too thin.
“Sweetheart, when was the last time you got a good night’s sleep?” He murmured, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair that had fallen out of your messy bun behind your ear. “And by good sleep, I mean more than four hours.” He added before you could open your mouth to respond, causing you to let out a tired chuckle.
“I don’t need sleep, I need answers,” You joked, drawing a roll of eyes from Peter. “But for real though, I don’t really remember.”
“If you don’t remember, then it’s been too long.” chided Peter. He eased your laptop shut, ignoring your protests and climbing to his feet. “Come on, Y/N. Back to bed.”
“Pete, I can’t—” You whined, but your whines quickly died off when Peter slid his arms under your knees and around your back, hefting you into his arms bridal style. Nestling your head against his chest, you sighed. “‘Mkay, fine, maybe just a few hours.”
The reverberation of his laugh rumbled through his chest, ticking your cheek as he made his way back to the bedroom, easing you down on the bed and stifling another laugh when you refused to let go of him. “Stay.”
“I was planning to, my love,” He murmured, trying and failing again to wiggle out of your grasp. Peter ended up doing a weird little half roll, half climb maneuver over you, and tucking himself close to your body.
“Love you, Pete.” You yawned sleepily, snuggling even closer into the warmth that he radiated and nuzzling your head under his chin.
“Love you too, sweetheart. Goodnight.” He pressed a soft kiss to your hair, trailing his fingers up and down your spine soothingly as the two of you laid there together.
If he was waiting for a response, he didn’t get one, because you were already fast asleep.
“Couldn’t sleep, my ass.”
@doublecrazyyymofo @milkiane @scenesofobx @raajali3 @conans-folk @eichenhouseproperty @dpaccione @laneybobeczko-g @nardaddyromanoff
if your username is crossed out it means tumblr won't let me tag you :(
books (tasm!peterparker x reader)
summary: you and peter read together <3
it’s not common that you get to have nights in with peter, y’know, with all the spider-man stuff. because of that, your nights in are usually jam-packed to make up for it. you two would do things ranging from spa nights with face masks, hair masks and manicures to game nights (he always wins twister).
other times you’re both too tired and want to revel in the domesticity of this sacred time together. so, here you two were, heads on opposite ends of the bed - yours against the headboard and his propped up on a pillow near your feet - reading in silence. the room was quiet minus the sounds of your breathing, the flicker of the candle next to the soft lamp that illuminated your room, and occasionally the honk from the streets of new york just outside your window.
you were so relaxed and full of love, stealing glances at peter every once in a while. sometimes he’d be deep into the words on the page, eyebrows furrowed, eyelids hooded, lips parted. you wanted to crawl over and kiss him so badly. other times, when you’d glance at him, he was already looking at you with a sleepy, dopey smile on his face. you always blushed and looked away.
meanwhile, peter was enamored. honestly, he hadn’t read more than 3 sentences in his book that entire time because your presence was just more stimulating. you were doing barely anything - sighing, turning your page, laughing at a funny line - and he just wanted to pounce. he wanted to kiss and hug you so tightly it hurt him. made his skin burn. he loved your focused face. he couldn’t help himself to reach out and rub your ankle every once in a while; you were just so alluring. so, he waited patiently there, soaking in your entire being as he waited for you to finish your book and pay attention to him.
when you sniffled, his head shot up, he propped himself up on his elbows and surveyed your emotions. he could hear your heart beating.
“what’s wrong?” he questioned immediately.
you shook your head, lip pouting. “nothin’, this book is getting so sad, peter.”
his stomach flipped when you said his name. “well, maybe we’re done for the day, yeah?” he offered, reaching over for the book.
“no!” you exclaimed, scaring you both. your eyes widened before you both began chuckling. “sorry, sorry. i’m almost done, i need to know what happens, p”
he nodded his head, he adored you. he wondered for a moment if he should start writing books just to see you like this, so entranced and happy. just for you. “my sweet girl” he hummed, leaning over for a kiss before laying down on his pillow again. he opened his book but kept his attention on listening to your heart beat.
after a while, you finished your book and sighed contentedly, closing it. you looked at the front and back for a while before scooching over to peter. his book was closed in seconds. you leaned over him, admiring his face and smile. you felt lovely and warm.
you ran your hand against his cheek, enjoying the feeling of his stubble. you kissed him, slowly and softly.
you pulled back, continuing to just feel him. his hair, his stubble. you ran your finger down his nose and across his smiling lips. across his eyelids and long soft eyelashes.
you loved him.
“how was your book?” he hummed.
you jumped a bit in excitement “you wanna hear about it?” you asked, almost in disbelief.
he nodded his head, “everything, all of it; i want to feel like i read it”
your eyes lit up with excitement, “okay, but i’m literally gonna tell you the entire plot, peter. i’ll have to tell you everything”
he only raised his eyebrows, as if to say ‘go ahead’ and you began your excited rambling.
god, he loved you so much. his chest hurt as you described the characters in detail, telling him which one was your favorite. he loved watching you flip back through the book to read him some particularly touching lines or give him a back story to a joke that made you laugh. his heart lurched when you ran out of breath, or back tracked because you forgot something, or when you leaned down to kiss him while talking about a sweet moment in the book. his hand rested on your waist when you shyly blinked back tears recounting the emotional events, giving it a squeeze or two while you pushed through the feelings.
“don’t fall asleep, pete!” you exclaimed when he closed his eyes for a moment.
he laughed, “i’m not, i’m not! just visualizing it all!”
“you are not! you’re sleeping!” you accused, laughing exasperatedly.
“i promise im not - i just want to see it” he said, closing his eyes as you continued recounting the novel while you lightly traced his features.
he continued to listen, asking questions about that one character or a plot point you seemed to have forgotten. when you finished, he looked up at you, smiling, always smiling.
“i loved it” he beamed.
“really?” you beamed back.
“yeah, i think i’ll have to read it myself. after i finish this one” he said, grabbing his own book.
you hummed, crawling on top of him. you laid your body right on top of his, chest to chest.
“what’s yours about?” you asked, settled into him.
“okay, i’m not done yet but - don’t fall asleep!“ he said, pinching your butt for a moment before delving into his own read.
you were warm against him. he was so happy, so content. he went through his book, stuttering over his words every so often when he thought about you and how much he loved you.
peter tenderly braiding your hair so he can cum on your face <3
there is no reason for me to be attacked like this in my OWN inbox...
because imagine him just doing it while hard, you're both naked and he forced you to stay still with a vibrator inside you. you're on your knees and cumming on the floor at this point but that's not what's killing you. you've never felt hungry like this before, but you can't help it, reaching for his cock throbbing against your cheek while he forces you to be still and be nice.
"bunny, you have to stay still. you'll get your fill once i'm done but you gotta be good."
you want him to fuck your throat right this instant but you also wanna get praised for being good so you try your best to be his good girl, even when you know that he wants you to misbehave just to be able to properly dominate the fuck out of you and fill your mouth with his seed.
on the topic of passion! i think that if peter saw his partner give a big presentation or win an award, he would absolutely be turned on by their intelligence and ambition 👀
yes!!! im sorry this was from like two weeks ago and i only vaguely remember what this is in reference to by i talk about loving the passion of characters all the time so !!!!
peter psyching you up before a big award night, maybe one of those academic ones where you know you're winning in advance and have to prepare a little acceptance speech. and he would be the most affirming person in the world in the weeks leading up, would help you draft your speech and let you practice in front of him, reassure you that your dress and makeup was perfect the night of.
totally not projecting but he would absolutely be the one to assure you if there was ever a little bit of imposter syndrome sneaking in, like if you got really nervous and started to think you didn't deserve the award and the recognition he would curb that so fast. you've never someone so passionate as peter when he tells you just how intelligent and brilliant and deserving you are, and he would absolutely never let you forget that.
but yes i definitely think him getting to sit there and watch you accept this award and deliver the speech you've been agonizing over would just fill him with so much love but also get him going a little... watching you beaming on stage in front of all these people, glowing under the spotlight.
so when you get home and he helps you out of your dress he would definitely take his time showing you just how proud of you he is
Pairing - TASM!Peter Parker x reader
Word count - 3,880
Warnings - angst, mentions of a breakup, pining, swearing
Song - Anyone Else by Joshua Bassett
Summary - I did warn y'all I'll go off with Joshua Bassett songs given the opportunity. I've been listening to this song on repeat bc it's just so damn beautiful and bosh a fic idea popped up. I apologise if this is shite because this is my first attempt at writing any sort of pining. Anyways I'll stop rambling, as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!
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Peter wanted nothing but the best for you. You’d been best friends since your first day of school when you had approached the shy Peter and asked if he wanted to play with you at recess. The rest was history.
Peter was the best friend you could ever ask for. He went out of his way for you every day despite your protests. He’d always walk you to and from classes, even if it meant he’d be late to his own class. He’d always compliment your outfits, even if you hardly put any effort into what you were wearing. He made you feel like the prettiest person on the planet. He was your person, the one you could go to when times got tough. And you were his person. You were two peas in a pod, and you couldn’t bear to imagine life without Peter Parker in it.
Peter wanted the best for you, but he couldn’t help but be absolutely devastated when you entered your shared flat one day excitedly telling him that someone from one of your university classes asked you on a date. He tried his hardest to match your excitement, telling you how happy he was for you. Peter had gone to bed that night angrily scolding himself for waiting too long to confess the feelings he’d been harbouring for you since high school. He’d waited all this time just for you to get scooped up by someone else because he was too scared to admit his feelings. But because he’s Peter, your best friend since forever, he grinned and bore it. He listened to you gush about how amazing your boyfriend, Jacob was as much as you wanted and gave you advice if you asked for it, not that he would ever consider himself an expert on relationships. Peter wanted to hate Jacob. He wanted to resent the man for scooping you up, but he couldn’t. He took care of you and treated you right. Peter had trailed Jacob as Spider-Man a couple of times in the vain hope he’d discover that he was part of some criminal organisation or just a piece of shit that he could turn in to the police. To his displeasure, Peter found that Jacob was normal. No criminal activity of any kind. Just an average man living in New York.
Peter tried going on a few dates of his own, but no one could compare to you. The people he went out with weren’t necessarily bad people, in fact, he got on well with most of them. They just weren’t you. He couldn’t help but compare every little thing they did to what you would do. One guy he went out on a date with was an expert skateboarder much like Peter. Despite that, Peter couldn’t help but think about how god awful you were at skateboarding. Every time he talked you into stepping onto his board you clung to his shoulder like your life depended on it as he laughed at you. A girl barely paid attention to him on a different date when he spoke about his classes after she asked what he studied. He couldn’t stop thinking about how you always gave him your full attention. It didn’t matter if you were half asleep or that you didn’t quite understand what it was, he was talking about, you always listened. You always preached that you cared because it was something he was passionate about, and he deserved to feel heard.
“How come you haven’t moved in with Jacob yet?” Peter’s sudden question asked during your weekly movie night made you shift your gaze from the tv to him, sat with a bowl of popcorn on his lap as he kept his gaze on the movie.
“You want me to move out?” You ask, your voice small and your heart sinking at the thought of Peter wanting you to move out. You didn’t know what you had done wrong for him to say that.
“No! God, I didn’t mean it to come out like that. That’s not what I meant I swear. It’s just… you’ve been with Jacob a while now and most couples move in together by now. How come you and Jacob haven’t done that yet?” Peter apologises and rephrases, silently hating himself for sounding like he wanted you to move out. You moving out was the last thing he wanted.
“I don’t think we’re at that stage yet. I like him a lot, but I don’t think I’m ready to move in just yet. Besides, I don’t want to move out unless I know you have someone you can live with. I don’t want to leave you alone, Pete.” You say honestly, turning to face Peter as his gaze softens. He puts the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head. You reciprocate the hug, smiling to yourself as you unconsciously nuzzle closer to him, enjoying the warmth and comfort his hugs provide you with. Peter’s hugs felt like nothing could ever hurt you, that the outside world couldn’t touch you while you were safely wrapped up in his arms.
As you curled up in Peter’s arms, he wondered if Jacob’s heart also skipped a beat when you nuzzled closer. He wondered if Jacob wrapped you up in the tightest hugs possible to protect you from the harsh realities of the outside world. Peter knew it was bad, to imagine you were his when he knew you had a boyfriend. But he didn’t care. He daydreamed all day every day what he would do if you were his. How he’d treat you with nothing but love and respect. He loved you so much it was so painful. More painful than any injury he has sustained during his years of being Spider-Man. Holding you so close was intoxicating, the familiar mixture of your perfume and shampoo wafts under his nose, still being able to make him smile and make his heart rush no matter how much he smells the familiar combination.
The comforting silence that had been created between the two of you was disrupted by the ping of your phone, making you sit up and detangle yourself from Peter’s embrace. As you turned to pick up your phone Peter couldn’t help but let his smile drop, knowing exactly who had texted you and knowing he’d never get to be that guy for you.
“Jacob?” Peter asks quietly, hoping against hope that he’s wrong and you’d tell him it’s Gwen. Hell, he’d even hope Harry was the answer. Anyone but Jacob. But he could tell from the smile that crossed your face that it was your boyfriend.
“He asked if I want to go around his tomorrow night.” You say, glancing over your shoulder, regarding Peter softly. Your expression didn’t read that you were asking for permission but rather you were asking if Peter would be okay.
“You should go. I can just patrol a little longer to kill time.” Peter laughs softly, a little heartbroken but not wanting you to miss spending time with your boyfriend just because he had feelings for you. Your smile dropped slightly at the mention of patrolling, it always worried you to no end when he went out as Spider-Man, but you also knew that there was nothing you could do to stop him.
“We should probably head to bed. You’ve got a class at nine and I don’t need to be dragging your lazy ass out of bed.” You laugh after glancing at your phone a second time, noticing the time.
“Have you considered; that my bed is much better than any class.” Peter says with a laugh as you stand up, picking up the near-empty bowl of popcorn and moving to the kitchen while Peter grabs the tv remote and turns the tv off, standing up and moving away from the sofa. You return from the kitchen and see Peter mingling in the living room doorframe.
“Come on Parker, we need our beauty sleep.” You say with a small laugh as you walk past Peter, your shoulder brushing up against his arm as you pass. Peter felt his arm warm up, feeling as if a spark had happened by the mere contact and set his arm alight. By the time Peter had regained focus on the world around him you were just disappearing into your room, calling back at Peter to turn all the lights off as he went before muttering something about the electricity bill under your breath. Peter nodded at your words, remembering stupidly that you couldn’t see him before following your instructions, turning all the lights off before retreating to his own bedroom.
The next evening came way too quickly for Peter’s liking. He wanted his classes to drag on forever so he wouldn’t have to watch you leave to go to your boyfriend’s house. When he returned home from his final class, the sun was just beginning to dip in the sky as he entered the flat and called through the space to announce his return and your head popped around the doorway to the living room with a smile, welcoming him back warmly. God the way his heart soared when you greeted him with that beaming smile of yours, it reduced him to a puddle every time.
“Hey Pete! Were classes, okay?” You ask, watching as Peter kicks his shoes off and shrugs lightly, his bag slipping off his shoulder at the action.
“They were alright. I have a bunch of stuff to do after patrol. Might be an all-nighter type of night.” Peter grumbles, thinking about all the work he has to do for his various classes.
“If you pull an all-nighter, I swear I will flip my shit. Don’t overwork yourself Peter, especially if you’re patrolling a little longer today. You need to take care of yourself.” You scold lightly, a slight pout appearing as you worry about Peter.
“Hey, I’ll be okay. I can handle one all-nighter. I am Spider-Man after all.” Peter says calmly with a smile.
“Spider-Man is still prone to exhaustion, and I don’t want you getting hurt because of it.” You say, approaching Peter and taking his hand gently. Peter’s breath hitched in his throat as your thumb grazed his knuckles.
“I’ll be fine.” Peter whispers, smiling and giving your hand a quick squeeze before dropping it, knowing he’d combust holding your hand any longer.
“Okay… well I should head out. Don’t want to walk to Jacob’s in the dark.” You joke, grabbing your jacket and throwing it on.
“Do I look okay?” You ask just as you reach the door, turning to Peter for approval, worry on your face.
“You look beautiful. You always do.” Peter says softly, a fond smile on his face as your face lights up, crossing over to him and pulling him into a hug.
“Thank you, Pete.” You whisper, squeezing him tight as he presses a quick kiss to the top of your head before letting you pull away. You thank Peter once more with a smile before turning and heading out the door, leaving Peter in the hallway alone. He turns on his heel and heads into his room, grabbing his Spider-Man suit and putting it on. He needed to patrol but he also needed to make sure you made it to Jacob’s flat safely. Once he was suited up, he climbed out his bedroom window and swung onto the roof of a nearby building, finding you walking the streets instantly. He followed you carefully, keeping an eye out for any harm that could come your way but to his relief, you made it to the flat safely. Having ensured your safety, Peter could focus on patrolling. The patrol was uneventful, he stopped a grand total of one mugging and that was all. He eventually returned home earlier than he expected because of the lack of crime and once he was showered and in some comfy clothes, he sat at the desk in his bedroom and resigned himself to getting all his work done. He got on with his work fine, but he couldn’t help but wish you were around to distract him, to force him to take a break because he’s an idiot who doesn’t know when to take a step back and relax for a moment. As Peter worked, he heard the door fly open and he sat up dead straight in an instant, listening intently to who might’ve just entered. His heart leapt into his throat when he heard your small sniffles and he was up on his feet in an instant, throwing his door open and heading to where you were standing in the hallway. He saw you fighting back tears as your eyes met his.
“y/n…” He starts, trailing off when you barrel into him. Wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his chest to supress your sobs. Without question, Peter led you carefully into your room, sitting on the bed with you beside him. He didn’t force you to speak, he let you cry as much as you needed.
“He broke up with me.” You say without warning as you calm down. Peter could’ve sworn his heart stopped in his chest at your words.
“He what?” Peter questions, tightening his hold on you and fighting to keep his anger in check.
“He broke up with me. It seemed so normal at first. We had dinner and then out of nowhere he told me that he didn’t want to be with me anymore. I think he made dinner because he thought it would soften the blow.” You whimper, burying yourself further into Peter’s embrace, wanting nothing more than to hide away from the world. Peter’s heart was shattering at the sounds of your cries
“He’s an idiot for breaking up with you. He had the best person I know right in his grasp, and he let you go.” Peter grumbles, anger coursing through his veins at how he just broke up with you like that.
“Clearly, I wasn’t that great. He caught feelings for someone else and I can’t fault him for having emotions. I just can’t help but wonder where I went wrong. What did I do to drive him away?” You whisper, shifting so you could look up at Peter, tears glistening in your eyes and staining your cheeks.
“Hey, you did nothing wrong. You’re amazing and you didn’t do anything wrong. It was him. He fell for someone else, and he made the wrong move. Any person would be lucky to have you. You’ll fight the right person soon enough.” Peter says, his voice soft and gentle as he rubs a soothing hand up and down your back.
“I was ready to say it, Pete. I was gonna tell him I loved him.” Your whimper made Peter hug you impossibly closer, resting his cheek on the top of your head and rapidly blinking away the tears that threatened to escape his eyes. He didn’t want you to worry about him when you were the one who needed his comfort and support right now.
“I’m so sorry. It’ll be okay. It’ll just take some time and I’m gonna be there every step of the way.” Peter assures, pressing a feather-light kiss to the top of your head. His heart was screaming at him. Screaming for him to confess his feelings for you but his brain rebutted, knowing you were heartbroken, and it wouldn’t be fair to you to just confess his feelings. Right now you needed him to be your best friend, so that’s what he was going to be.
“It’s always been me and you against the world, hasn’t it? We can handle this. I know we can.” Peter continues when you don’t respond, leaning away from the hug slightly so he could address you properly. Your teary eyes met his soft brown eyes as you nodded.
“We can handle this.” You echo, and a small smile crosses both of your faces at your words.
“That’s my girl. Let’s get some rest, shall we? You said something about us needing beauty sleep?” Peter teases lightly with a laugh as you wipe your eyes and chuckle, nodding at his words.
“You better actually go to bed, Parker because if I wake up and find out that you pulled an all-nighter I’m hiding your Spider-Man suit for at least a week.” You manage to joke as you wipe the remainder of the tears from your eyes. Peter noticed you still had some tear stains on your cheeks and out of instinct, tugged his hoodie sleeve over his hand and gently wiped them away before realising what he was doing and pulled his hand away.
“Sorry, you just had some tears on your- I’ll go to bed. You should do the same.” Peter says quickly, releasing you from his arms and moving away carefully before getting to his feet and heading to your door. You say quick goodnight before Peter leaves which he returns hurriedly, leaving you confused about his reaction to his own actions.
In the passing days, Peter let you mourn your relationship. He let you cry on his shoulder if you needed to. Or he’d let you rant about how shitty it was for Jacob to break up with you in that way. No matter the emotion or what you wanted to do, Peter was there to listen and help. He knew you wanted to find your feet again after recently coming out of a relationship, so he didn’t make a move. You didn’t need to be overwhelmed with his confessions when you were still dealing with a breakup.
What Peter didn’t know was that you found yourself falling for him over the days. At first, you thought it was just your heart confusing the platonic love you held for him in your heart with romantic love due to your breakup, but the breakup had changed the way you saw Peter. When Peter offered you a shoulder to cry on or a warm hug when you were down, your heart would skip a beat, buzzing with excitement at getting to be so close to Peter. When the pain from your breakup began to pass and you began to consider dating again, only then did you realise that Peter was the guy you wanted to be with.
You had fallen for your best friend.
After about a month after your breakup and you felt ready to put yourself out there, you decided that you would bring the subject up in front of Peter to see how he felt about it. You valued Peter’s opinion on things like this and you also secretly wanted to see how he’d react. You knew it was wishful thinking, to believe that Peter might like you in the same way you like him, but it was worth a shot.
“I’m thinking of beginning to date again. What do you think?” You say casually as you lie across the sofa one afternoon, looking up at Peter from where your head rested on his thigh. You didn’t see Peter’s slightly widened eyes at your words before he composed himself, looking down at you with his ever gentle gaze.
“Do you feel ready for that?” Peter asks. You could tell there was no malicious intent behind his words, there never was when it came to the two of you, only concern and his slight protectiveness.
“I do, yeah.” You confirm, smiling slightly as he nods, swallowing thickly before he opens his mouth to talk.
“Okay, I need to tell you something. Something important. I like you y/n. As in, more than a friend. I’ve liked you since our senior year of high school and I was always too scared to make a move because I never wanted to lose you. When you started going out with Jacob, I was so mad at myself for letting the kindest, most gorgeous person I know slip from my grasp just like that. And then when you broke up, I knew I’d be a dick if I tried to make a move straight after that, so I waited for you to be ready. Because I don’t want to risk losing you to someone else again. I am done pretending I want anyone else. And if you don’t like what I just said then we can just act like this never happened and just continue being friends because I don’t want to not have you in my life.” Peter rambles nervously as you sit up, your gaze not once leaving his as you shuffle around to face him. Without thinking, you grabbed Peter’s hand and grazed your thumb along his knuckles.
“Peter I… I like you too. More than as a friend. I’ve realised you’re the only guy I want to be with. You’re amazing, and I know I don’t deserve you.” You trail off before Peter hauls you into a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head.
“Don’t say that. You deserve the world and more. You deserve much more than an idiot who swings around the city every day in spandex.” Peter says, his chin digging into your head as he speaks.
“Well, it’s a good thing all I want is an idiot who swings around the city every day in spandex.” You say with a smile, shuffling back and looking up at Peter. He gently leant forward and rested his forehead against yours, gazing softly into your eyes.
“I’d like to take you out on a date. Is tonight, okay?” Peter asks with a cheeky smile, laughing quietly as you nod against his head.
“Tonight is more than alright, Mr Parker.” You reply, laughing as Peter pulls away, rolling his eyes jokingly.
“How about I take you to that little restaurant that’s not too far from here? It’s not too expensive but it’s still a nice place.” Peter offers, stretching back and looking over at you.
“Sounds perfect Pete.” You grin, moving back into his arms when he opens them up and gestures for you to come closer. You smile to yourself as you rest your head on his chest, his heart was beating quickly, still overwhelmed with the confessions.
Peter couldn’t believe that you reciprocated his feelings. He was now holding you in his arms with the knowledge that you wanted him the same way he wanted you. With you in his arms, it felt like the whole world had melted away and it was just the two of you. No outside world to call Peter to action or bother you. As he held you, he thought about how he was going to be the best boyfriend ever for you. He loved you with his whole heart and he’d make sure you felt loved and always had a smile on your face. He’d lay down his life for you because of all the love he held for you in his heart. He didn’t want to even imagine being with anyone else but you.
Peter Parker was well and truly in love with his best friend.
Correction. His girlfriend.
I'd just like to say how thankful I am for nwh for the amount of andrew garfield and TASM!peter fanfictions we have in this app rn, I've passed through dark times before that movie came out BUT NOW I SEE THE LIGHT
tasm!peter x fem!reader
summary: peter finds out about your issues.
warnings: heavy topics on mental health including anxiety and depression. h/c!
word count: 2.5k
author’s note: i have projected onto reader :,) this is scary to put out, may delete later.
last warning! read with caution! potentially triggering topics are mentioned (anxiety and depression) gif isn’t mine. don’t repost my work.
You wake to yet again another dull room. Another morning. Another day. What a pain.
The curtains cover up the sunlight, leaving your room in a gray hue. Liquid stains your cheeks and your eyelashes are clumped up and wet. You’ve been crying in your sleep.
You’ve been feeling bad lately. Really bad. You can’t put your finger on it but there’s a little voice in your head keeps telling you you’re not enough. It whispers horrible things about you to you. It yells at you. It tells you don’t deserve anything. It forces you to think and do harm. In turn, you crumble. You believe it, but that’s all you know about this empty mental state.
Yet, you feel so suffocated by it. So suffocated by merely being alive. You don’t even know what is so terrible about your life that you have to feel so down and weird and off all the time. You just do.
And you’re alone with the voice. You refuse to tell anyone what you’re feeling. Shit, you don’t even know what you’re feeling, do you? Instead you’re faking smiles and acting as if you’re fine, normal even. What a laugh.
No one has discovered how much mental pain you’re put in daily.
No one but one person: Peter Parker, the guy you’re dating.
The two of you met in your chemistry class. He’s the smartest person there. His intelligence shocks you and sometimes makes you feel shitty about your mediocre grades, the voice in your head fueling the thoughts.
But you stay with him. He’s sweet and caring and lovely. He brings you flowers every date and shows you off to all his friends and family. He’s bright sunlight in your currently curtained and dull life.
You’ve been with him for four months. It doesn’t matter though, the voice tells you he’s going to leave you. It tells you he doesn’t want someone like you. It tells you you’ll be alone for forever. It laughs at you when you fantasize about your future with him. It makes you hate yourself as much as you hate it.
As you sit on your bed, you think about what today is going to be like. Clearly it’s going to be a hard day, but Peter asked you out today. A new bookstore with an attached coffeeshop opened up recently and he wanted to take you. Maybe the voice can shut down just for the day or enough for you to read a chapter of a new book or even enough to have a sip of coffee.
But it continues with you as you drift through your day. You force yourself to do work for a while, whether your doing it as a distraction or genuinely is unknown to you.
A few hours go by and you check your watch. Peter will be here to pick you up in an hour or so. You change and get ready before frowning at your appearance in the mirror. The reflection taunts you, pointing out all your insecurities. Before you can get too far in your head, the doorbell rings.
You leave the bathroom to open the front door and Peter is there, a smile on his face and, as per usual, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
“Hi,” he says, an unbelieving smile on his lips as if he were looking at something beautiful.
“Hi Peter,” you give him half-fake, half-real smile, the teeth being the fake part of your expression. He’s dressed in large black jeans, a black band t-shirt, and an olive-green oversized corduroy shirt that acts more like a sweater. He looks beyond perfect which makes you slightly self-conscious.
“These are for you. You ready to go?” He leans his shoulder on your doorframe, admiring you while handing you the flowers. You smile and look down to check your outfit. Jeans and an old sweater.
“Um yeah- just give me a second to change my shirt and put the flowers in a vase.” Before you can turn and quickly sprint to your room, he grabs onto your hand and pulls you toward him.
His eyes glance down at your body while he whispers “But I like this on you.” His hand trials down your forearm lightly, taking in the feeling of the fabric on you.
You sigh deeply, “I don’t really like it, I look too- um… I’ll be back in a second.” He looks dejected when you back away, but you ignore it and continue on. The pink tulips he gifted you are sloppily placed in a vase you quickly filled with water before leaving to your room.
You look for something to wear for 5 minutes before Peter starts to get worried. He knows your insecure like everyone else, but your extent of sadness and despondency is long-lasting and worrying. He’s noticed how much you’ve changed in the past year.
You were so bubbly and bright when he first met you. You would show up to chemistry with a smile and a bounce to your step. Now you just walk in frowning with dark circles sitting under your eyes. He notices when you’re putting up a happy front the tone of your voice. He sees right through your little act.
He closes the door behind him, goes to your room, and is met with the sight of tears streaming down your face. You’re desperately looking for a shirt. Concern hits him immediately as he walks into the room and lays a hand on your shoulder. The unexpected feeling makes you flinch and break you out of your panic. You start up at him with teary eyes.
He removes his hand quickly as if your skin had burned him.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”
In that moment it hits you that you’re only wearing your jeans and a bra. Your body is exposed to him. You put on a shirt nearest to you rapidly. It’s a short shirt with small straps. You ignore the yelling from the voice inside your head telling you a shirt like that is the worst thing you could possibly wear in a moment like this. You adjust it, wipe your eyes, and stare at his neck to avoid his eyes.
“Sorry, I- I just needed to change. I’m sorry. Can we go now?” He takes your chin between his fingers and brings you to look at him.
“Are you okay?” His words drift out of his mouth slow like honey. His concern is seen in the crease between his eyebrows and the frown on his lips. The debate in your head whether to keep the emotions bottled or finally express your feelings is short-lived, the former winning as always.
“Yes, I’m fine. Sorry, I’ve just been off today, I don’t know why,” you partially lied. You’re not fine, but you have been off today and nearly every day for a month or so with no direct explanation. You’re aware telling him would be a relief, but it might scare him away. Maybe you’d be a burden instead of his girlfriend.
“We can postpone our date?”
“No, god no! Please, I want to go out with you,” you practically beg while holding onto his forearms.
He sighs and kisses the top of your head before nodding. His hand rests on your cheek while yours continues on his forearm.
The voice isn’t pestering you in this moment. It leaves you alone when when he touches you, when he kisses you, when he’s around you. You press your lips to his warm ones, lips gliding against each other’s in a sweet embrace before backing away.
“Come on, I’ve been in need of a new book,” Peter says as he breaks away and pulls you towards your front door.
The two of you arrived to the bookshop and picked at books for each other before ordering coffee. Peter was now working on an assignment for class while you zoned out, staring at the book’s page rather than its words. He chose some thriller that’s normally right up your ally. As interesting as the summary seems, you can’t shake the thoughts of what happened in your room. He saw you shirtless and crying and he didn’t mind. You wonder what he thought of you and if he’ll leave you once you have the talk about what’s going on with you.
A soft touch to your hand and your name being whispered brings you back to reality.
“Um- I have to ask you something?” Peter looks slightly scared to ask, brows furrowed while his statement comes out more like a question. You murmur out a hum of affirmation to prompt him to go on.
He takes a deep breath and continues. “I know you’re like um… down?” He looks at you to make sure you’re okay with him talking about this. You reluctantly give him a small nod and he continues. The conversation came quicker than you had expected. You let him go on; otherwise, the conversation would be put off by you for as long as possible.
“Well, I’ve sort of noticed it’s gone on for a while now and what happened today kinda- um confirmed it.“ You look stressed with your eyebrows furrowed and a small gap between your lips. He notices and tries calming you down with a tighter hold on your hand.
“We don’t have to talk about it. I just- I hope you’re okay and I don’t want you to think you have to go through anything alone. I’m here for you and I’ll listen to you. And if you don’t want to talk, that’s okay too. I’ll still be here for you.”
By the time he’s done, you’re close to tears and gripping his hand tighter. He’s cursing himself for ever bringing it up and making you sad, but it was a necessary confrontation. Your melancholy was eating him up inside. He was worried horribly about you and even if you’ve only been together for two months, he cares about you deeply.
“It’s just- I don’t know,” you take a moment to organize your thoughts before continuing, “I don’t think I’m a very good person. I should be funnier and prettier and interesting. But I’m not and I hate that about myself. It’s only worse when my head decides to criticize everything about me and I don’t know how to stop thinking like that. It’s like my thoughts are my biggest enemies and it’s a constant battle to try to get them to stop. And sometimes I think about you and how perfect you are and how much you deserve to be with someone perfect, someone not like me. I think about how much better I could be, but it’s only an unrealistic and unachievable fantasy.”
Talking to him proved to be a lot easier than you expected, putting your mental state into words that flow right out. But no words or phrases will ever truly portray how you feel. Only you are able to fully understand what’s going on, and even then, you don’t know why it’s happening or how to stop it.
He takes a deep breath and pulls you in. You rest your head on his shoulder while his arm wraps around your frame and his head lays on yours. The tears that have built up are now streaming down your face. You tried holding them back as best as possible but his comfort prompts you to let go.
The machine whirs while it brews coffee and the sound of soft chatter comes from other customers. Peter sighs against your hair as you both sit in silence, listening to the light noises of the store. You are stressed over his silence. Shouldn’t he be saying something? Maybe he’s thinking of a way to get out of this conversation. What if he’s thinking of leaving you. Before you could get in your head and regret everything, his hand smooths circles over your shoulder and his lips press kisses on the top of your head.
After those few moments of processing your words, he lifts his head and moves you to face him with a calloused hand to your cheek. “Hey baby, I’m proud of you for telling me. That must have taken a lot of courage, yeah?” You nod.
He sighs and rests his forehead against you, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair. “I wish you could see yourself as I see you. You’re all the things you say you aren’t. You make me laugh until I tear up and your beauty is so so enchanting. No one’s perfect, but you are the closest person to it.”
The way he speaks of you makes you feel like it’s all lies, too good to be true. But Peter would never lie to you, not like that. You whimper and nuzzle your face into his neck, craving more of his comfort. He lays his head on top of yours. His hold provides warmth and solace and you find yourself never wanting to leave.
He holds you tighter and continues, “How about we get you some help for those thoughts, hm?” You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion and lift your head off his chest to face him.
“Like therapy?” You asked, while staring up at him. Therapy was something you’d considered, but you never went through with. The thought of telling someone everything you think of slightly frightens you.
He smiled and held you tighter. “Yeah, babe. I understand self-criticism, but it seems as if you’re struggling with it more than you should.” You lay your head back on his chest and hold his free hand in yours. You nod against his soft shirt.
“Whatever you decide, I’m here for you and I’ll listen to you whenever. Please don’t feel as if you have to hide something like this from me.” His voice is gentle, a melody that soothes your anxiety.
“I know, I’m sorry. I just- I don’t know why I didn’t.” He shakes his head and pulls you in closer, a hand running up and down your back.
“Don’t be sorry, baby. I’m proud of you, okay?” He brings your head up with a soft hand on your cheek, making you gaze into his hazel eyes.
“Thank you,” you whisper, face so close to his you can feel his breath on your lips. You consider yourself lucky in this moment for having a boyfriend so lovely as him.
You pout out your bottom pop lip and murmur “kiss, please?” under your breath. And he complies, kissing your lips and then the tears off your cheeks.
He scrunches his nose when he pulls away and whispers “salty,” once tasting the tears. You giggle too while bringing him in closer, your heart swelling at his tooth-rotting sweetness.
You’re thankful to have a boy like him. Someone who supports you and cares for you. Getting better didn’t seem as futile anymore.
thank you for reading.
tasm!peter parker masterlist
water under the bridge
summary: an accident during a fight gives peter minutes to save you from suffocating waters. (angst, hurt/comfort)
reader has an iron deficiency
Drunk! Peter and he’s all over reader telling her how he wants to marry her and being handsy lol
hi I hope this okay <3
"I like gardenias," Peter declares, drunk as a skunk and climbing all over you.
You're never letting him go out with his friends again, you decide, brushing the hair out of your sloshed boyfriend's eyes. "Me too," you say.
"Yeah?" he looks exceedingly pleased by this, more pleased than he has any reason to be. He smells like wine coolers.
"Sure. They're pretty."
"And lily of the valley," he adds. "Sweatpeas, jasmine. Oh! Astilbe."
"You've lost me," you say.
Peter wrinkles his nose and works his way further still into your lap, hands at your waist. You roll your eyes at his face, tucked against your chest, very obvious in its position.
"That's fair. We'll ditch the astilbe. Astrantia instead?"
"Baby, what is an astrantia?" you ask, fingers in his hair.
Each time you stroke his hair back from his face his eyes close, like a puppy. It's adorable. He might be drunk and a little messy right now, but he's still your boy. You'd die for this idiot.
"A flower?" he asks, squinting up at you. "I'm talking about a bouquet."
"Oh," you say.
You're distracted from asking why he's discussing bouquets with you at 2AM on the living room sofa when you should both be sleeping by his hands catching yours where it cards through his hair.
He sits up to kiss your fingers, your wrist, small pecks that turn open mouthed that turn nibbling, little wet nips running a course to the sleeve of your T-shirt. He grumbles at being stopped short. You're giggling quietly, endeared and adorned by his affections; you feel like the prettiest girl on earth, covered in his tiny kisses.
"Red velvet?" he asks suddenly, encouraging you to lie back.
"Are you hungry?" you ask, smiling so wide your cheeks hurt.
"What? No." He sounds frustrated. "Do you like red velvet?"
"Why are you asking?"
"For the cake," he says, as if this is obvious. You realise Peter is having a conversation without you and elect to ignore his drunken woes, pulling his face down so you can hug him against your shoulder.
"Maybe we should go to bed, hot stuff."
"Are you kidding? We have so many decisions to make."
"They can definitely wait until the morning, baby," you say warmly.
He starts running his hands over your chest, your arm, your chest again. He doesn't touch anywhere important without asking, a gentleman even now, but the longing in his eyes makes you wish he would sober up for proper kisses.
"They can't wait," he insists. "These are so important. We need to talk about them."
You sigh dramatically, feeling very sorry for yourself, long suffering and tired. "Can we talk about them in bed, Peter?"
"No, you'll distract me."
"I'll be too busy sleeping." He pouts. You burst into laughter. "Babe! It's so late, I waited up for you so we could fall asleep together and you waylaid me with hickeys and a game of twenty questions!" You plead your case.
It's Peter's turn to sigh, though his is more of an indignant groan. "This isn't twenty questions, woman!" You raise your eyebrows, dying of laughter on the inside, and he amends, "My beloved. It's not twenty questions."
"What is it, then?"
He smirks at you, hands on either side of you and his knee between your thighs. You suddenly remember how tall he is and how stern he can be when he's not obliterated by cheap booze.
He leans down to whisper in your ear. "I'm gonna marry you."
"Get off of me," you say, rolling your eyes.
"I'm gonna marry the fuck out of you, and then I'm gonna fuck the marry out of you, and we're gonna have centerpieces made up of a thousand white gardenias and asta- astrav- astantrias!"
"And this has to happen tonight?" you ask, playing along, a feeling of white hot and reverential love blossoming from the centre of your chest.
"If you don't mind!" he almost shouts.
"I want vanilla cake," you say steadily, quietly, reaching your hands up to pinch his red cheeks.
His eyes are wide but he's calmer now he's realised you're on his side. "Good choice," he says, blinking. "What frosting? Buttercream, right? Fondant is for losers."
You giggle until you can't breathe. He drops his head down into your chest, hugs your ribs so tight it aches. You can feel his smile even through your sleep shirt.
pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader
tags: 18+ graphic smut, not much plot, nsfw brainrot, blonde and fratboy peter parker, unprotected sex, kinda public sex, bathroom sex, mentions of smoking and party drugs, swearing as always
summary: peter parker was ridiculous, especially with that new hair of his. but deep down, you wanted nothing more than to experience one night with the douchebag of a blonde.
notes: blonde andrew garfield has awoken something in me. enjoy, indulge, sin!!!! (not my gif) title based on ariana grande’s song “ridiculous” ;))
update: read part two here!
missing out? ➤ my masterlist - MINISERIES MASTERLIST
Peter Parker wasn’t known to make appearances at parties, especially ones thrown by fraternities that weren’t of his own. But ever since that first-class asshole dyed his hair blonde, he made the effort to grace every single party on campus with his well-awaited presence.
No one seemed to complain.
Not even when he reeked of entitlement that labelled him as resident douchebag. Not even when he dripped of sex appeal each time he walked into a room, owning his new look as girls pined over him and whispered about their dirty fantasies behind closed doors.
Maybe it’s all the cigarettes that were passed to you or maybe you actually had more than one edible tonight than you could recall. But either way, it’s a bit hazy when you try to remember the details of how you got into this situation.
Willingly stuck inside a bathroom with none other than Peter.
Key word: willingly. Meaning you’ve done this to yourself, knowing fully of the consequences that could happen between you and the boy.
There’s a comfortable and somehow respectable distance between the two of you despite the exaggerated size of the bathroom. The marbled floors are covered in golden swirls from the awful yellow tinged light of the vanity-like mirrors. The open window lets in a cool draft to soothe the warm air of the inside.
Peter takes a heavy drag of his blunt in the bathtub, long limbs outstretched in front of him as he peers over at you curiously.
“What?” You huff out, foot dangling over the sink counter while your knee remains propped up on the surface. A lopsided smile tugs at his lips. He shakes his head at you. “Seriously, what?”
Forty minutes ago, you had originally walked in to dry off after being thrown into the pool by your friends, not realizing that Peter was occupying the clawfoot tub until he piped up about you getting undressed in front of him.
He wanted time away from the noise.
You shared that same sentiment with him.
But, god, the tension was awfully, awfully sexual.
“You’re just cool, Y/N. That’s all.” His voice is muffled, a lisp forming as a result of the burnt joint hanging from his mouth. His ankles cross over one another, battered Chucks scuffing the expensive porcelain with black marks.
“And you’re saying that because?”
“Because I wanna fuck you, yet you won’t even give me the time of day.”
You laugh at his desperation, watching him lean over the side of the tub to look at you. His eyes wander over your bare legs, ingraining the visual of your thighs into his mind and how your underwear hugs your hips graciously beneath your oversized shirt.
There’s no subtlety with him.
“You’re an asshole, what else can I say?” You shrug casually, tongue darting out to lick your bottom lip when he blinks expectantly at you.
His half-lidded gaze is tempting, but you don’t want to give him that satisfaction he always gets to receive.
You didn’t have anything to prove. But honestly, you just wanted to test his self-control.
Maybe a little bit of yours, too.
“Then,” He taps a finger against one end of the blunt. “Why are you still here? Am I entertaining to you? Or are you looking for something more?”
You sigh. “Peter, if you wanted to have sex, you could literally go fuck anyone else.”
“Jeez, can’t you accept I’m just horny and I don’t wanna get up?” He whines, motioning with grabby hands at you. “Can’t you accept that, maybe, I just wanna fuck you?”
You gape at him, nose scrunching up in confusion despite the heat rushing to your cheeks. “We barely know each other and you’re suddenly dying to get into my pants.”
“Do you wanna get in mine?” He sits up, dark eyebrows raised as his dilated pupils lock onto yours. You scoff dryly, acting appalled that he would even suggest such a thing. The issue is he isn’t wrong. He isn’t, not in the slightest. You take a swig out of your beer bottle before you hop off the counter and avoid any of his further questions by turning your back to him. “Is it the blonde?”
“It’s just you.”
“Does the blonde make me seem more of an asshole?” He drawls, studying the way you mindlessly nod in agreement.
You stand in front of the mirror, dabbing at your flaky mascara with a paper towel. “Sure.” The messy streaks on your face leave little to his imagination, a faded red gloss stained upon your lips.
“And how fuckable does it make me? Scale of one to ten?”
He hums shortly. “Mmm, I don’t believe that.”
“Are you always this annoying?” You jeer at him, voice dripping with snarkiness and distaste. “Does the cocky attitude make up for whatever inches are missing down there?”
Peter can’t take his eyes off you, especially when your reflection stills to meet his clouded stare.
“Why don’t you come find out for yourself?”
He challengingly runs his tongue across his teeth. Your jaw clenches at the dilemma. The air is thick, too thick for you to inhale. The mirror feels like it could crack at any time beneath the weight of your glares, while the floor thumps beneath your feet to the beat of the fast music downstairs.
Even from across the room, Peter looks enticing.
His left arm has him propped up, tucked behind his head while the other waves the lit joint between his pointer and middle finger around.
His green sweatshirt rides up his belly, revealing the happy trail along his lower abdomen. His strong jaw advertises itself as kissable and soft, even with the dark stubble on his face that makes him look older than he actually is. His chest rises and falls steadily, a small cough escaping from him.
He watches you like a vulture ready to devour a meal.
You slowly turn on your heels, bare feet making their way toward Peter until your leg hits the side of the tub. You kneel, leaning your head on perched forearms as you gaze at him from the lowered angle.
His blinks are slower. The moons of his eyes grow foggy when you suddenly reach up to take the blunt between his lips. It leaves him easily, then his next breath hitches in his throat when you place it in your own mouth.
You suck your cheeks in, inhaling quickly before puffing out the smoke off to the side.
“I don’t wanna fuck you, Peter.”
The gesture is a telltale sign that you thought otherwise.
He grabs it back from you, taking a drag before he stalls and leans forward. His hand finds the underside of your chin, gently pulling your mouth open as his eyes bounce from the upper half of your face to the lower half.
You feel lightheaded when he shotguns the smoke into you.
Not from the drugs. Not from the drinks.
But from how close his swollen lips are to yours.
“Then what’s stopping you from leaving this room?” Your lungs are hot with Peter’s breath, skin slick with sweat and bones trembling with anticipation as he moves to hold you by the nape of your neck.
You swallow. “I’m gonna leave.”
His thumb runs across your earlobe.
“Okay, go.” His voice drops to a raspy hush.
You can smell him from here, the odd combination of musk and weed. The scent shouldn’t be this desirable, but you’re breathing him in and out like some kind of flavored cigarette.
And somehow, you can’t get enough.
You close your eyes when his forehead pressed against yours. His body is warm, fingers antsy as they trail down the side of your strained neck. Your hands rest in your lap, thighs squeezing together when you feel the soft button of his nose nudge against yours.
“I’m gonna try you again.” He sighs into your mouth, lips barely touching as he leans over the bathtub. “How fuckable does it make me?”
All self-control (on both ends) goes out the window when Peter forms a fist at the back of your head, pulling on your hair with enough force to have you looking up at the ceiling.
You gasp, not in surprise, but at how good it feels.
Peter likes the way you bite your lip.
“This is ridiculous.” You fight back a moan when his grip tightens, covering it up with shaky laughter that didn’t at all convince the blonde.
“Yet you still haven’t left, Y/N.”
“Maybe I just need you to make me.”
He inhales deeply, thumb running across your cupid’s bow as you survey him deliberately. He lets go of his hold on your hair, but you don’t distance yourself from him. In fact, you subconsciously shift closer, knees growing sore against the marble tile.
“Make you, huh?” He whispers.
“Okay.” His nose prods against your cheek. “If I kiss you, will that make you leave?”
You smile devilishly, using his own words against him.
“Why don’t you come find out for yourself?”
All at once, his hand flicks the blunt aside.
Peter’s mouth is heavily on yours, a combination of his saliva and the taste of marjiuana intermixing on his warm tongue. The kiss is noisy and wet — the stunning interaction of two horny people at a party desperately trying to fuck one another. You pull at the string of his sweatshirt when he nibbles at your bottom lip, making it tender to the touch before he attacks yet again.
His head is pounding. The bulge in his pants is aching.
But he can only think about how kissing you turns him on even further.
“Get in here.” He groans into you, eyes never leaving your body as he guides you into the empty bathtub with him. Your knees hit the bottom roughly while you straddle his lap, feeling his erection grow beneath your clothed mound.
The friction of his denim pants against your soft skin already has you grinding against him, stifled whimpers leaving you as Peter frames your face with both of his hands to better the angle of kissing you. His tongue is in your mouth, savoring you and nothing else as your chest presses against his.
“So far, do you think a kiss is enough to make you leave?” He pipes up in between pecks, running his lips down your throat.
He nips at your flesh when it bobs beneath his touch, suckling a darkened mark by your carotid. He wraps his arms around your waist, trapping your body on top of his.
“Dunno. How about we just keep doing this and see where it takes us?”
“Thought you didn’t wanna fuck me.” Peter laughs, the sound vibrating against his own sternum.
“Things change,” You hastily pull your shirt over your head. Peter tenses when you reveal your breasts to him, his grasp stilling at your side as if he’d never seen tits before. “I was trying to be dignified.”
He curses under his breath.
“So for my peace of my mind, you do wanna have sex?”
“Is this an attachment style thing? Why do you keep asking that?” You moan when his mouth latches onto your nipple, leaving your skin moist from the wetness of his tongue.
“It’s about consent.” He gazes up at you, adorably nestling his head in the valley between your breasts. “And the fact I wanna hear it coming from that pretty mouth of yours, Y/N.”
You lean back, resting your hands on his calves as he runs a large palm up your stomach. It settles around your throat, stroking the soft flesh until your words leave you with certainty.
“I want you to fuck me.” He inhales deeply beneath you, nostrils flaring while your jaw flexes at him in the dim light. “However you want it, Peter.”
“However I want it, huh?” He repeats, sitting up to rid himself of his sweatshirt. A whimper slips out of you when his bare chest is on display, his abs toned and stomach soft when you tantalizingly trail your nails down his lean torso. “I want it so many fucking ways, Y/N. Hard.” He leaves a hickey on your ribs. “Rough.” Another one just beneath your jaw. “Slow, so I can feel every part of you.” Again in the dip of your collarbones. “Fast, till you’re squirming on top of me. Begging me to make you cum. Would you like that?”
“So many choices,” You shift to settle between his generous thighs, fingers flying from the belt buckle to the button of his jeans. “Oh, how will I ever pick?”
“Just means you gotta try them all to know what you like.”
“And if I already know?” You tug the denim down his hips and past his bottom, letting it pool around his knees as you skim your lips over the crotch of his boxers. He leans his head back when you free his hardened cock from the material, your fist wrapping around the base of his dick.
“Fuck. Then use me all you want, beautiful.”
You pump him once, maybe twice, putting off the idea of actually how big he is in your grasp. He can tell you’re a bit surprised, judging from how your eyes widened when you first saw him and now, with how your breaths become shallow with each slow jerk.
You lock gazes, lips pressing together to grace a kiss to the throbbing tip of his cock. It twitches at your touch, then your mouth envelops him quickly. Too thick to fit, you use your hand to stroke whatever length remains.
“So pretty, Peter.”
“Mm… god, Y/N. Just like that, use your tongue — shit, there you go, princess.” He chuckles heartily, guiding his hips towards you as your head bobs up and down his shaft. “Suck me off. Wish you could see yourself right now.”
“You’re such a whore.” You whisper at him, batting your lashes.
“Me? You’re the one with my dick in your mouth.” Peter tenderly courses his fingers through your hair. “And frankly, I prefer the word slut when it comes to pretty girls having me down their throat.”
You lick the underside of his cock, nose following the visible vein that stops just below his tip. A bubbly giggle erupts from you when a string of saliva connects your chin to him, and Peter shares the laugh when he sits up to wipe at your jaw.
He uses the back of his hand, then playfully taps his thumbs against the corners of your lips. He pauses — even though he’s still obviously hard — to properly look at you: the redness in your eyes, the lust in your dark pupils, the sly smile you sport.
“I want you to eat me out.” You mumble, his calloused digits rubbing circles into your skin.
He kisses you short and fast, tasting himself. The act almost comes off as innocent, except for how he stares at you hungrily and hums thoughtfully at your declaration.
“Lay back.” Peter tosses you his sweatshirt, gesturing for you to put it behind your head as he crawls on top of you. He lifts your legs, placing each one on either side of the tub. You clear your throat nervously beneath him, the way his gaze trails down your inner thighs, following the curve of your calves, flickering back to the damp patch on your cotton panties. He kisses up your chest, whispering against your jawline. He smells your neck, moaning at your sweet fragrance. “You let me between your legs now and I won’t be able to stop.”
You meet his fiery eyes in the chaos of your moving bodies.
Peter scoffs in amusement, pulling the blue fabric of your underwear off of you. “Atta girl.” He flings it behind him, landing on the windowsill. You laugh when he blows raspberries around your belly button, placing open-mouthed kisses on the suppleness. You writhe against him, hips circling to draw his attention to where you want him most. “Oh? Needy, are we?”
“Not needy. Just think you’re taking too long.”
“Slut.” He mutters playfully, looking down at you with a wide grin.
“Whore.” You fire back instantly, yelping when he hooks his arms behind your knees and bends down to spit on your cunt.
“My god, Y/N. You look fuckin’ delicious.” He uses his fingers to spread the drop of saliva around your folds, purposefully brushing over your clit to study your reaction. The visual of your lips parted in a pleasurable ‘O’ stays in his mind, almost on loop till he nestles a long digit at your entrance. “You’re practically drenched, princess.”
“Peter…” You sigh, knee jolting in desperation when he pushes it inside you. You cover your face, earning a soft click from Peter’s mouth that makes you rethink your previous actions.
“If you want me to eat you out, then I have to see your face.” He cooes. “After all, how will I know I’m doing it right if I can’t watch you moan?”
You nod feverishly, your façade falling apart in his grasp when he cranes his head to the side and swirls his hot tongue around you. His motions are slow, his eye contact unwavering as you guide his hands all over your body — up your hips, squeezing your breasts, your throat.
But the reality of being eaten out by Peter is cut short when a series of knocks echo at the bathroom door. You jump, nearly kneeing the blonde in the face through the process, but he immediately spreads his palm over your front and pushes you back down.
Quickly, he pulls the curtain around the clawfoot tub, keeping your heaving bodies hidden inside. He pinches his lips together, holding up his pointer finger in an effort of telling you to stay quiet.
Your long silence only allows the person inside, and you nearly squeal aloud when Peter abruptly suckles at your swollen clit.
Roughly, you pull on his blonde locks with an instinctive nature, squirming when he pries your legs further apart.
Your mind is caught in a twist, ears listening in on the walking interruption and at the same time, how Peter messily laps at your cunt with the filthiest look you’ve ever seen.
“You make a sound and we’re done.” He remarks. “Got it?” The toilet seat lifts up, the loud noise ringing through what should’ve been an empty bathroom. Never would’ve you imagined Peter hiding between your thighs in a bathtub while some stranger took a piss during a party. “You taste so good.” He whispers in your ear, replacing his mouth with his hand.
“Peter, someone is in here. I can’t — we cannot get caught.”
“I told you I won’t be able to stop.” He sticks his knuckle between your teeth, smiling in satisfaction when you bite down to stifle a cry of pleasure. “I may be an asshole, but I’m a man of my word, Y/N.”
“Peter.” His name falls from you as a warning, but your body clenches around him and tells a completely different narrative.
“Oh, Y/N. Your cunt is just so fucking loud, we might get caught.” His fingers are buried inside of you, curling against your spongy walls as he spreads you open. He fixates on the way you flutter around him, wondering how good it would feel if he shoved his dick inside of you right here and right now. “Once they’re gone, you can make all the noise you want.”
“I’m gonna cum.”
He shakes his head at you, eyes wide. “No, you aren’t.”
The toilet flushes, and Peter takes advantage of it to muffle your string of moans when he roughly pounds his fingers into you.
You’re squeezing around him, and he knows you can’t handle much longer of this.
“Shit, cum now. Cum right now.”
“Fuck, it’s so good. You fill me up s-so well.” Your voice quivers, bringing Peter’s face down into a kiss to stop yourself from making any more unnecessary sounds that’ll draw the stranger’s attention.
“Cumming all over my hand, that’s a good girl. Yeah, princess? Feel better?”
His tongue slips into your mouth, shutting you up. Your stomach tightens, and when the blonde pulls out to massage at your clit, you release all over him before the sink can even turn on.
Then, the bathroom door clicks shut, leaving the both of you all alone once more.
You let out a long groan, head resting back against the edge of the tub as you come down from your adrenaline-filled high.
You gulp aloud, breaths stuck in your throat as you touch your sweaty forehead to catch your bearings.
Your stomach feels wet.
“S-Shit, I’m sorry.”
You glance down at your body, then at Peter, whose face is flushed red. There’s a blush creeping up his neck, his ears tinted with embarrassment as he looks at the stringy white mess between his fingers and your belly.
Peter Parker just fucking came from eating you out.
“Hey, don’t worry about it.” You smile warmly, cupping his face. Suddenly, he looks shy, as if what he did wasn’t the hottest thing a boy has ever done to you. You make the effort to assure him, looking him right in the eye. “It’s cool. It happens. Just shows me that you enjoyed yourself a lot more than I thought.” He hisses when your leg brushes against his leaking cock. Shrugging dramatically, you teasingly run a nail up his shaft despite already knowing the answer. “Do you still wanna fuck?”
He smirks boyishly at the crude question. “Of course I do.”
“Good.” He restates, rolling your nipple between his fingers with a sincere chuckle. “M’gonna fuck you standing up, is that okay? Can’t really feel my legs right now.”
“Like I said,” You tug at his earlobe with your teeth, pupils darkening again. “However you want it.”
He helps you to your feet, careful that you don’t trip one another. You shove the curtain aside when he bends you over the tub. You grip at the porcelain, knuckles turning white when he spits into his hand and slaps it against your sensitive folds. A moan falls from you when he kneads at the flesh of your ass, pushing your thighs apart to get a better view of your cunt.
His cock pokes at your entrance, and you gaze over your shoulder at Peter to watch him guide his length into you.
Slowly, he pushes his tip in. He’s thick, pulsating from his unforeseen orgasm from earlier. Peter gauges your facial expression, taking your rapid nod as a step to go further.
“It’s so big.” You whimper, smiling in deep satisfaction when your folds grip around him. He studies the sight, gawking at how your skin erupts with goosebumps beneath his warm touch.
“Tell me you want this cock, pretty slut.”
“I want all of your cock.”
You inhale deeply when he buries himself entirely inside you, his pelvis pressing against the curve of your ass.
“I’ll go easy on you.” He whispers, gently kissing your cheek before a cruel laugh wrestles through him. “For now.”
He pins your arms behind your back, just above your tailbone where he can hold your wrists in place. He uses one hand to grab onto your shoulder for leverage, hips snapping into you vigorously as he utters a number of curse words into the room.
“Peter! Fuck, yes!”
“Your cunt is just milking my cock, princess. Look at this shit. Christ… Y/N, feels fucking amazing.” He trails his nose along your neck, biting your soft arms as he continues fucking into you. “I could destroy you. Destroy this cunt, make it all mine. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Y-Yes, please. Please.”
“Earlier, you fucking despised me.” Peter growls, his grip making red marks on your skin. “Now, you want every piece of me. Needy. So needy for me.”
“Oh, god. Fuck. I want you.”
“Want my cum? Want me to fill you up with this dick?”
“Yes, Peter. Fill me up — fill me up till I can’t walk, till I can’t think, till my insides are full with nothing but you.”
“Such a dirty fucking mouth, Y/N. Always knew you spoke like a slut.” Your thighs tremble around him, his handprints marking your ass from a harsh spank driven across your backside.
He buzzes in enlightenment at that. “Like this?” You lurch forward, turning into putty in Peter’s arms. He holds you near to his chest, skin slapping against skin as he drills into you. “You’re close, aren’t you?” You nod, whimpering his name over and over again. “Aw, my little Y/N. Seems that I’ve already fucked you out.”
“I’m — I’m… fuck, baby. I’m cumming.”
“I know.” He smirks cockily when you turn your face up at him, pleading for his lips on yours. “I can feel you.” You force your mouth onto his, whimpering against his teeth when he pulls away. “No, I wanna see your face again when you cum. You look so gorgeous when you do. But you don’t know that, don’t you, Y/N? Has anyone told you how fucking hot it is when you fall apart?”
“You’re making a mess.” You gasp when you glance back at him, watching how his spill coats his own cock and your wet folds.
“Oh, you’re one to talk.” His hand wanders up your throat, fingers squeezing your pulse points.
You croak. “Cum inside me.”
“Fuck. Tell me again.”
He fills you up instantly once the phrase leaves your lips, his blonde hair falling in curls in front of his face. “Want you to cum inside me.” You kiss his face, features scrunching up in pleasure as he needily releases his load into you.
“God, Y/N.” He sighs breathily, mouth connecting to the crook of your shoulder as he suckles lazily at the flesh. “I think I need to lay down.”
You chuckle loudly, shuddering when he slips out of you.
“Yup, me too. Absolutely.”
The two of you settle back into the bathtub, sticky and disheveled as you tiredly lay your head on Peter’s chest.
His head hits the porcelain abruptly, a grunt vibrating through him when he rubs the painful spot. “Ow.”
You cover your mouth with a hand, laughing behind fingers that smelled of Peter. “Are you okay?”
“Dumb blonde things, you know.”
“Mhm, sure. That’s a thing for natural blondes.” You scratch his scalp.
He closes his eyes at the relaxing sensation. “You never answered my question, by the way.”
You smile softly. It’s genuine, judging by how the lines on your face deepen with pure fondness. “The blonde looks good on you, Peter.”
“You think so?”
You playfully ruffle the messy strands.
“You looked fuckable even when you were a brunette. But now, I think you look incredibly attractive.” You plant a kiss on his nose, touching your forehead against his before you pull away with a wink. “The douchebag look is kinda sexy.”
His eyes crinkle at the statement. You step out of the tub, collecting your underwear and your shirt off the floor.
“See you at the next party?”
You glance at him, pretending to tap your chin in thought.
“Hopefully we can fuck somewhere else. Maybe not a bathroom this time.”
“Don’t be a stranger, Y/N.” He watches you slip your shirt on, already missing the glow of your soft skin.
“And don’t be an asshole, Parker.”
Overheard (TASM!PeterParker x Reader)
Summary: A moan—soft and quiet and muffled by closed glass, but very clearly coming from the other side of the velvety curtains that were blocking his view into your room.
Shit. Peter gulped. Did you have a guy over? He hadn't known you'd been seeing anyone, and the thought of his best friend rolling around in the sheets with a guy he hadn't even met somehow set a flame of something ablaze in the pit of his stomach.
A/N: lots of cursing, non-graphic but includes unseen masturbation, sexual innuendo, flirty best friends, making out & implied sex; college-aged characters
Peter's feet landed firmly on the rickety metal of your fire escape; perhaps a bit too firmly, the rusted metal creaking dangerously beneath him. He frowned—your apartment was old and rundown, but, as you mentioned each time he expressed his concerns, it was rent-controlled and much better than your childhood home in "Bumfuck Nowhere" as you so affectionally called your hometown.
He'd texted you just minutes earlier before leaving his place—it was several blocks away, but the trip was quick when superhuman agility and web-shooters were involved, so he slipped his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and checked to see if you'd replied—you hadn't.
Your curtains were drawn, which was odd. Peter knew you loved the way the sunlight filtered between the buildings and seeped into your bedroom, creating a small patch of warmth right where you'd placed that ratty old wingback chair you'd made him carry home from the Salvation Army for you. Plus, your window faced nothing but a crumbling brick wall and you claimed to love the aesthetic of urban decay.
Even if you hadn't seen his text, you'd presumably heard him landing outside your window, but the curtains remained opaque.
Peter was about halfway through processing the thought of possibly using the regular entrance to your apartment—he had a key, after all, though he'd never needed one—when he heard a sound that made his heart skip a beat and his cheeks turn deep crimson.
A moan—soft and quiet and muffled by closed glass, but very clearly coming from the other side of the velvety curtains that were blocking his view into your room.
Shit. Peter gulped. Did you have a guy over? He hadn't known you'd been seeing anyone, and the thought of his best friend rolling around in the sheets with a guy he hadn't even met somehow set a flame of something ablaze in the pit of his stomach.
Another moan, this one a little more desperate. Peter felt gross all of a sudden, but found himself frozen to the spot, overthinking the situation, as he chronically did when it came to you. It was something that couldn't be helped—he might have had super strength, but you were enough to make his knees go weak.
Still, this was invasive. It was weird. He would throw twenty-one questions at you later, when you weren't...doing whatever and whoever it was you were doing at that moment. Swallowing that odd little feeling the was clawing up his throat, Peter turned to go, but ice flooded through his veins at the next noise he heard.
His name. Your voice. There was no doubt about it. What the fuck?
Peter allowed himself to listen, really listen, and his ears pricked at the sounds no other person would be able to hear from his current spot. The shuffle of skin writhing on soft sheets, the irregularity of quickened breath, a heartbeat like a hammer.
A heartbeat—just one. Besides his own, of course, which was currently going wild pulsing in his ears. You were alone in there. Alone with your thoughts and your fingers and his name on your lips.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Now he really had to go. The jealousy—for that was what it was—that had reared its ugly head only moments earlier had quickly shifted to something like excitement, a deep thrill, chased by a pang of shame that he had accidentally intruded on your most intimate of moments. You would absolutely murder him if you found out he'd been—
F-fuck. P—peter. It was a whimper this time, a barely there gasp.
His jeans suddenly felt tighter. Okay. He could do this. He'd slip away from the fire escape, walk around the block once, and then use the front entrance for the first time ever. That wasn't suspicious at all. He'd just stroll up the six flights of stairs to your floor, knock casually at your door, you'd pull yourself together and...well, no harm, no foul.
Peter nodded to himself and zoomed away as quietly as he could manage.
Meanwhile, coming down from a blissful high in your rumpled sheets, you reached toward your bedside table for your phone, eyes growing wide when you saw an unread message from Peter.
Just finished studying for Bio. Be there in 5.
It had been received 12 minutes ago and you knew when Peter said 5 minutes, he meant 3. Barring some psycho trying to burn New York to the ground, he'd arrived on your fire escape anywhere from 7 to 9 minutes ago when you'd been—
A knock at the door interrupted your train of thought and you blanched, all colour draining from your face as you rushed to throw on a pair of yoga shorts and an old t-shirt—for fucks sake, why were the only t-shirts in arm's reach ones you'd borrowed from Peter?
You knew it was him before you opened the door—no one else came to visit you. And if he was using the front door it meant he'd been detoured from using the fire escape window and that meant—jesus christ, it meant he'd heard you getting off to the thought of him.
"Hi," you breathed, trying to play it cool as you swung the door open to reveal Peter's face. He looked guilty as sin. He hadn't even been able to keep his secret identity from you, much less something as ridiculous as overhearing you masturbating.
"Hi," Peter replied, entering as you made space for him in the doorway. He avoided your gaze and your own eyes slid over his body, noting the way he faced away from you, hands hovering awkwardly near his crotch.
"Since when do you use the front door?" you asked lightly, closing and relatching the entrance in question. Peter shrugged, settling himself on your sofa—another piece courtesy of the thrift store. Initially, he'd hated the thing, but you'd restuffed the cushions to get the lumps out and now it smelled like you—vanilla and shortbread and old books and familiarity. It had even been christened with a tomato sauce stain from when he'd brought over Aunt May's lasagna that had never fully come out, even after two years.
"How was studying?" you asked, puttering uselessly around the kitchen and ignoring the heat on your cheeks, the odd fluttering in your stomach.
"Not bad," Peter answered, "I'll ace the test." You made a noise of acknowledgement in your throat. Of course he would—he was the smartest person you knew. "What have you been up to?"
Posing the question, it was the first time Peter met your eye since arriving, twisting himself to look over at you. There was mischief in his eyes, a daring look that said I know perfectly well what you were up to and I bet you won't tell me.
You decided to give him a run for his money. "I was thinking about that time we went to the beach last summer," you said coyly, a smirk tugging up at the corners of your lips, "Remember when we got so wasted we thought skinny dipping was a good idea?"
Peter half-laughed, half-gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing prominently in his throat. "I remember," he said, "I was scratching sand out of god forsaken places for days."
"Pete," you chuckled, "There's not a single god forsaken place on your body."
That turned him red—good. There was a beat of silence and before you could blink, he had you pressed between his body and the cold laminate countertop. Damn superhero abilities.
"I could say the same for you, Y/N." His lips were hovering just over yours and from the way his hips rested against you, you could feel a bulge pressing into your abdomen. Part of you wondered if you'd fallen into a post-orgasm dreamworld, but Peter's familiar scent grounded you, reminded you that this was all very real.
"You heard, didn't you?" you whispered, not breaking eye contact. Peter licked his lips, nodded once.
"I did," he confirmed, faltering for a moment, blinking as shame pained his beautiful features, "I'm sorry—I didn't—"
"Don't apologize," you said, hooking your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans and pulling him closer—if that were possible. "It's okay. It's...good." There, you'd put it out into the world. Your move, Parker.
"Yeah?" Peter's pupils had dilated and he'd leaned forward to press his forehead to your own. You swallowed thickly. He was as into this game as you were.
"Yeah," you repeated, "Because now I can do this." You kissed him, pushing yourself up onto your tiptoes to meet his lips. It wasn't the first time you'd kissed your best friend—not by a long shot—but it was the first time you'd kissed him like this, like your entire existence depended on it. He responded in kind, thumb coming up to caress your cheek as he deepened the kiss. He pressed himself further into you, using one had to lift you up onto the countertop. That in itself as enough to make you groan—he was so strong.
Peter settled himself between your thighs, kissing you with abandon, allowing his tongue to swirl against your own, pausing only to nip at your bottom lip, kiss along your jaw, bite gently on your ear lobe. For their part, your own hands skidded along his muscular arms, coming to rest on his shoulders and then at the nape of his neck, tugging at his mussed hair and eliciting a noise of approval from him. You found that you liked it very much and wondered what other noises you could get him to make.
Peter broke his lips away from you for a moment, the sheer willpower of such a pause making him light-headed. "You sounded so pretty," he said, "With my name on your lips."
Your mouth made a little "o" as you blushed deeply, the comment somehow innocent and lewd all at once. "Well," you replied, gathering yourself, "I hope you'll do me the kindness of letting me hear the same from you." The thought of your name falling from his lips in ecstasy had you shifting in your seat for some friction.
Peter smiled wickedly, "Oh, Y/N, I'll do you any kindness you want."
heaven isn't as beautiful as you
THIS IS NOT NO FREE USE SHIT YOU CAN NOT USE MY WORK
pairing(s): tasm!peter parker x fem!reader
request(s): how bout pete eating you out for a first time? - anon
summary: peter wants to try eating you out.
warning(s): 18+ content, oral (f rec), slight overstimulation, pete eating you like a man starved and unedited work
navigation | tasm!peter parker masterlist
You never made fun of him for it or mocked him in anyway. You never even pressured him to try it telling him it was fine you with.
Peter had never eaten pussy before.
And even after countless times of you telling him it was okay, he wanted to learn so he did what he did best. He studied hundreds of videos and learned as much as he could.
He wanted to do this for you.
You were laying down together, you were picked at the buttons of your shorts looking at your phone.
He played with his fingers leaning against the headboard trying to catch his breath "Y/N?"
"Yeah?" You hum
"I want to eat you out" you froze looking at him "What?"
"I want to try" he said playing with a piece of his hair "If you'd let me" he looked down shyly and you nodded "I-uh Yeah" he smiled as you clicked off your phone. He moved over to you leaning above you to kiss you before moving down your body.
You leaned up on your elbows to watch him. He was nervous and strangely excited as he unbuttoned your shorts sliding them and your panties down your legs and you lifted your hips to help him get them off. He threw them on the floor somewhere in the room.
He felt himself harden at the sight of you legs spread for him and from this angle-
Fuck you were amazing.
"You're so pretty" your cheeks heated up "Thank you baby"
He eyed your wet folds tracing them with his thumb before sliding a finger through your folds collecting your wetness before popping his fingers in his mouth and your eyes widened as you watched him moan at the taste of you.
He carefully threw your legs over his shoulders trying to gather all the information he had learned in the past week or two before he slid his tongue through your folds sucking them into his mouth before he began to suck on your clit and you moaned "Oh fuck" you hadn't expected him to dive right in.
Peter was in awe, he wondered how he lasted so long without tasting you, without having you this way. He pulled you closer to him his tongue slipping inside you, he began to thrust his tongue in and out of you trying to get as much taste of you as he could.
You threw your head back your fingers digging into his sheets. It was a bit messy but he was trying and lord, did it feel good.
He moans against your skin feeling like he was on top of the fucking world "You're doing so good Peter" you moaned gripping your breast through your thin top and your praise urged him to dive in more.
"Fuck Peter" He reached his hand up grabbing your hand as you held onto him for a dear life. It was almost embarrassing how quick your orgasm was coming but Peter was making you feel so good.
Peter wasn't sure if it was your wetness or his drool dripping down his chin but honestly he could careless. He felt amazing and by the way you were grinding against his tongue he was sure you felt amazing.
"I'm gonna cum" You gasped but he didn't even let up to reply just fucked his tongue into, his nose bumping your clit.
He could stay like this forever.
Your eyes fluttered close, your back arching as he gave you a fucking toe curling orgasm but Peter could hardly register you cumming because he was so lost in you. "Please fuck it-it's too much" you pushed at his shoulders and that's when he finally let up.
He looked up at you licking his lips as he caught his breath sliding up your body to look you in the eye "Did I do good?" He asked a soft look in his eyes and you chuckled breathlessly "You did great" you leaned up kissing his lips moaning as you tasted yourself on his tongue.
You smiled at him "You did great" you repeated
a/n: omg i hope you enjoyed it, feel free to request and please tell me what you think. COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!
Fucking The Silence Out Of You [TASM!Peter Parker]
Summary : Peter and you get in a fight, he said something insensitive and regrets it. You being you, you walk off and ignore him for a while. Peter cannot handle not having you around, and sometimes (not every time) he'll get desperate enough to fuck the silence out of you.
Pairing : TASM!Peter Parker x Reader
Warning : 18+ Only, Minors DNI, smut, manhandling, breaking in (peter's on some illegal shit), angst, shower sex, kinda dub-con if you squint, dom!peter, kinda sub!reader, unhinged/desperate!peter, groveling i guess ???, titty worshipping, cum play, fingering, kinda angry sex/punishment sex
A/N : and im back at it again with a weird mix of angst and smut and a little fluff here and there i guess ?? yeah, hope y'all enjoy this one
(ps : thanks so much to the anon who suggested this, really you're a little genius !!!)
You and Peter, the Sun and the Moon in whichever order your chose and depending entirely on your moods and the way the other reacted to it. You two were complementary to each other, necessary to have one if you wanted to understand the other. You were two pieces of the same soul, suffering and loving together.
Separating you was both useless and painful, practically impossible to do.
But sometimes, the best thing to do is to separate for a while to give each other time. And Peter, was never good with that. He searched for you every time you left him, his body instantly feeling your absence. So when you were the one to voluntarily stay away, it was obvious that he'd come knocking on your door. Knocking until you let him in, or he let himself in.
When you got to meet Peter for the first time, you couldn’t help but think that this dude was absolutely fucking crazy. You were what people would call a demi-god, born of two human parents but an ancestral gene avoided by at least five generations before falling on your tiny baby shoulders. You’d grown with the usual powers, super strength, speed that could rival a sports car, you toped it off with the agility of a godly Olympic gymnast and other attributes that never ceased to amaze the people.
Your boyfriend was this first amazed, proving you how cool you were from the day he met you. You remembered how after helping Spiderman save the city, you’d try to fly away but the man followed you closely. When you finally managed to get back to your apartment safety, you turned around to find him looking you up and down frantically. He had someone like him, finally.
The rest was history but you’d never stop smiling at the memory of him rushing to you and inspecting your hands to see what device you used to fight. When you’d told him you could do that without a device, he stood in silence for a few minutes before exploding in laughter. He tried to figure out a way to scientifically explain you but struggled, which made you laugh harder. You should’ve been worried, trying to get rid of him after erasing him memories of you. Instead, you felt comfortable around this random stranger who ended up taking his mask pretty quickly after.
It was when you shook his hand, staring into his big brown eyes while he stared into yours, that you figured it out. You were in love for this man. And he was in live for you too. You both loved each other so much that for a long while, he friendship went as smoothly as anything could ever go and it was easy to switch to a romantic relationship. It went just as smoothly, conversation and love guiding the both of you with any issue.
It was good, so good, you felt like it would go along forever. And with how long it did, it was a good beginning. But things weren’t meant to always go perfectly right ? They were never meant to go on forever without a few stones standing in the way.
“Eh ! Eh, don’t walk away from me ! I’m not done taking to you !”
This was more than a few stones. This was a whole bolder, one that had started with you. You didn’t be care for now though, you didn’t care about much, too angry to care.
You kept walking, fast and as far as possible from him. You were fast, really fast and your mood was making it worst. You could hear him call you and try to grab your wrist each time he got close enough to feel the burning rage that warmed your body. You might’ve been a little more than simply angry, rightfully so.
Stomping forward, you ignored the curious looks and whispers that followed. Spiderman himself was chasing you, not swinging but walking and apologizing to everyone he bumped into by mistake. He saw his apartment building come into view and decided to use of his capacities to catch you by surprise.
You were still stomping when you entered his apartment building. Climbing the stairs to reach his apartment, you felt his missing presence but didn’t think anything of it. When you did it was a problem anyways. You barely opened the door that you were pulled inside and pinned against it when it closed.
“What the fuck is your problem ?!” Snarled the masked spider, staring straight at you with visible anger.
You narrowed your eyes in defiance and pushed him away from you. You were about to leave when he pulled you back by the wrists.
“You’re not walking away from me again. I fucking swear, I’ll web you to the fucking wall if I have to.”
“Oh whoa, lucky me ! It’ll be my second time tonight. Give me a third and I’ll genuinely start thinking that you see me as the enemy more than your partner.” You spat back, smiling condescendingly.
You try to step away from him, pushing him as gently as you could while being this angry, but he blocks you again, his hold on your forearms tightening into a practically painful grip. You inhale a sharp breath, feeling the anger get dangerously close to rage. You could get him off of you, that you definitely could and it wouldn’t be the first time you did. You were strong enough to be his partner after all, the thing is, you refused to hurt him, even if you did want to step on his foot right now. He was being difficult and that was tickling that petty part of you.
“Peter, get your hands off of me before I make you get off.” You threatened, your voice deep and commanding. That did catch him off guard, only showing it briefly before switching to his own petty side.
“So you’re threatening me now ? What’s it gonna be next, tackling me to the fucking floor ? Since you can’t fucking control yourself.”
“I’m the one who can’t control myself ?!" You exclaimed, anger rising at his comment. "You’re a fucking dick Peter ! You’re the one who webbed me to a fucking car ! What the fuck is this ?! Who the fuck do you think I am ?! Your fucking child ?!”
“Well you fucking behave like one !” He let go of you to swing his arms in the air which gave you a chance to step away and turn back to your things. You weren’t going to stay here but a part of you wanted to give you both the chance to actually talk instead of simply just fighting until you were to tired to keep going and would apologize out of exhaustion.
“Oh ? I act like a child ? How do I fucking act like a child Peter ?! Tell me how I behave like a fucking toddler ?!”
You’d let go of your things as soon as he compared you to an infant. The last thing you wanted was to be compared to a child when you were a grown woman capable of protecting and taking care of herself. Also, you wouldn’t take it from the man refusing the sleep if you weren’t around.
The moment you stepped up to him, walking right into his personal space and defying his judgment, he couldn’t help but feel the tingles that went from his heart straight to his bulge. He had always loved that feisty part of you and it did things to his self control that would have anyone hunched over trying to hide their arousal but failing miserably. You brought out the worst kinds of sexual desires when you were angry and he often made it worst by laughing at you, trying to keep himself from kissing your breath away. Right now was one of those situations but with a twist, he was angry too and wouldn’t let his fucking horny side ruin his point.
“You want me to tell you how you act like a fucking child ? Look at how you’re behaving right now Bunny. You’re gonna look at me in the eyes and tell me you’re not being a fucking spoiled brat ?” He chuckled in your face, which had you fuming.
You glared at him, backing away from him before you slapped him across that beautiful face of his.
“You’re calling me a fucking spoiled brat because I saved you from getting run over by a fucking train ? That’s what I’m understanding ?”
“Saving me ? You call jumping in front a moving train saving me ?” He queried, looking at you with fake curiosity.
“Are you really going to ignore the fact that I got us both out of the way ? You’re angry to the point of ignoring the main part of this stupid fight ?” You were slowly getting back to your previous state of anger, your voice getting louder.
“You see ?! You think this is stupid, you’re being childish and ignoring the fact that you could’ve got yourself fucking killed !” He responded, pointing his finger at you. You sigh, rubbing your face in desperation, this was going to get long.
“So if I’m understanding your logic correctly, you wanted me to let you get hit by a fucking train because I could get hurt ?! Are you fucking serious ?! You want me to avoid danger as if the whole point of being a vigilante wasn’t the possibility of danger to protect others ? And you blame me for putting my life in a possible danger when you do it every fucking day for others and me ?!”
“But you’re not protecting anyone ! You’re not protecting anyone, not even yourself ! And I have to fucking do that for you because you’re fucking reckless !”
This last one sent a wave of silence rushing through the room. The sound of his heavy breathing soon faded and was quickly replaced by this awkward silence and the violent realization of what he had just said. The guilt was quick to take over, rapidly replacing the anger he felt a few seconds ago. His words resonated in his head, tiny voices slowly getting louder and screaming about how stupid he was. He had fucked up and he could see it in your face.
This expression you were wearing, that one was killing him. He’d seen it before, the one you had when you felt like you had failed, like your efforts were useless and like you should’ve just stayed in your corner. He hated that face and was the first one to silently threaten whoever made you feel this way. Right now, he was the one to make you feel this way and he was already beating himself for it.
He’d just scream in your face that you weren’t protecting anyone, your biggest insecurity and he’d thrown it in your face. You had been scared of not being able to truly protect others and here he was, using it out of anger. He was a dick, and he could see it.
Looking at your face, he could see the anger dissipate and be replaced by sadness before switching to nothing. And that was the worst, the emotionless part that you used when you didn’t want to show that you were upset. He did this and it was biting him in the face as karmic punishment.
“Bunn-“ He cut himself off when he saw you turn away from him to grab your things. No, no, no this wasn’t good, no ! You were not going to leave, not before he could make this right. He refused to let you go before he could explain himself or simply apologize profusely.
When you grabbed you bad with your day clothes in it, he was quick to reach for you wrist and rip the bad out of your hands.
“No, please Bunny look at me.” He pleaded, trying to grab your attention. You went out of your way to avoid his eyes and he was slowly starting to get more and more agitated. “Please, look at me, please ! I didn’t lean it, Bunny ! Let me explain myself before you leave, please !”
You turned to finally face him, and maybe he would’ve rather you not look at him. You looked completely different, looking at him as if he was a complete stranger, someone you didn’t know. He shook his head, grabbing your shoulders to keep you from walking away. You were ready to leave and his sweaty hands were finally showing the possible gravity of his words and behavior since earlier.
You pushed him away, hard enough for him to let go of you, which had him shuffling back, trying to not trip over his own feet. You ignored him and turned to walk towards the door.
“Bunny, please !” In a last resort cause, he webbed his door, managing to push it closed before rushing to you. He grabbed your face to have you look into his eyes. “Don’t leave angry ! You’re not leaving angry, we’re not separating on this, not until we fix this.”
You looked up, smiling sadly, you hand going up to his and taking it off your face to hold it tightly.
“No need. There’s no fight. You don’t fight with children, do you Peter ? You scold them, and you teach them better. Or at least in your case, you make sure they understand that they’re not doing anything useful and you’re burdened with having to make sure they don’t die without you. That’s what you just did, because you treat me like the child I am.”
And it was with these soft last words that you left him, the man standing in his doorway, stunned and rethinking the whole fight. Feeling drained, he closed his door and slid down the wooden board, running his hands over his face. Fucking great, Peter. Way to fucking go. He’d be lucky if he wasn’t single after that.
He knew you were upset, he’d said hurtful things and he deserved what he got. But fuck was it painful to not have you around. He genuinely couldn’t feel worse but every time, he felt himself sink lower and lower, he missed you terribly.
It had been two weeks since the fight and in these two weeks, Peter had the time to reflect how utterly stupid he had been. When he thought about it, he has been a hypocrite to be lad at you for jumping in front of danger for him as if he did not do it for you at the smallest things. He could even remember jumping in front of you when a kitten had jumped to rest on your shoulder. It was instinctive to protect you, because he loved you and that’s what people who loved each other did. He protected you and you protected him, that was what you did for each other.
You had been gone for two weeks and these two weeks had been the worst weeks of his life, every day feeling more dull than the previous one. You were a ray of sunshine to him and he’d pushed the sun away by being an idiot and hurting you. You always went out of your way to understand his points and not debate him, privileging discussions and honesty. The one time he had to return the favor, he didn’t, acting on his emotions and fear of you getting seriously hurt and letting it ruin everything. Anger was a bitch.
In these two weeks, he’d spend every day waiting in front of you door, in your apartment building and on campus. He waited for you everywhere, waiting for you to give him a chance to speak. All he got was the silent, treatment and his texts left on read. Everything he tried was met with this wall of silence that he couldn’t take anymore.
He’d been doing everything to get you to talk to him, even going as far as talking to the press and asking you questions. He put you on the spot, which was a shitty move but he was desperate. Now, it always ended with you leaving the scene without even looking at him. The public had soon started mocking him, spreading the news that Spiderman was in the doghouse. It made them laugh but not him, he was the one suffering it. Something about being the butt of the joke probably.
Over this two weeks, he’d been deprived of you entirely, loosing your warmth and the fuel you brought to his heart. He deserved it but it was ruining him a little more each passing hour. Your absence was breaking him, and it was only worsened by the fact that he knew where you lived and went to the same college as you did. You were so close yet so far, within reach but also impossible to grab. You were taking very cautious measures to make him suffer and it was working, he was suffering, a whole lot.
He knew he had reached his breaking point this morning. He couldn’t sleep without you so he decided to swing by your apartment to see if your window was open this time. The night was hot and you slept with your window open in this weather. Except, this time, your window had been closed and locked. Looking into your apartment, you had bought a fucking fan.
Looking through another window, he could see your door. The locks were different, you changed fucking locks !? Was this why he couldn’t open you apartment ? He knew he needed to give you space but this was going so far, the idea that maybe he had lost you for good was starting to become a little more realistic.
His desperation was rapidly toped with anger. You were shutting him out from you life, slowly erasing yourself and that was not going to happen. He was not going to let you walk away from his apartment angry and was definitely not going to let you walk away from him life all together. He was a fighter and he would fight for you, tooth and nails.
Maybe changing your locks had been too much, maybe you were being dramatic. But in your defense, you really needed to get new locks and you also didn’t want to let Peter in. You were simply killing two birds with one stone.
You could’ve talked it through, but you felt like it was better to simply walk away this time. Your mind was telling you that this was the best thing to do for now. You’d felt that night, after his words, like you were a burden to him, like you were forcing him to protect you, pushing more stress on him and that was the last thing you wanted. You wanted to help and protect like he did, he you had the capacity to do so. You knew you did and you would never let them go to waste, which is why you kept working to help the citizens of New York.
What you’d stopped doing was communicating with Peter. You would help him if it was needed and if he asked but you couldn’t allow yourself to bother him more than you were already doing. He loved you, you would never doubt it but if he forced himself to take care of you, you would be the one to stop him from doing so. And that started by protecting yourself better with new locks to your door. You might’ve been a protector for this town but no one would protect your things if you were to get robbed. That was adulting, and you would try your best not to fuck it up.
Today had been fantastically dull, Peter’s absence felt a little more than usually. You’d forced yourself to step away and give him space but god was it hard when you were head over heels for the man. He was everything to you and not having him around was hurting more than it should’ve. Now, you wouldn’t deny the fact that you were also being a little petty by not giving him anything. He had upset you he deserved the silent treatment at least.
Going back to your apartment, you felt your entire body being crushed by the weight of the different activities from the week. You were exhausted physically and mentally, which could be fixed with a good shower. You quickly stripped off of you clothes and jump in the cabin, letting the water cover you whole and drown the sound of someone pounding on your door.
Because yes, obviously he was going to show up. He needed to see you, desperately, and this time, he wouldn’t let your silence go on any further. You would talk to him, and that was final.
“Bunny, I swear if you don’t open this fucking door, I’m climbing through your window !” He screamed, not caring about the potential prying ears, curious about the events going on in the hallway.
When you kept silent, he sigh, the anger speaking for him. Well, he had asked for your permission. He backed up slightly, checking both sides before webbing the doorknob and pulling the door towards him before kicking it open. He watched the chain of your door fall to the floor and smirked, fuck your knew locks. He did fell slightly guilty and reminded himself internally to fix them for you after. For now, he simply webbed the door shut, to prevent anyone from opening or seeing what was going on inside.
Walking through your place, he called out your name but again, was met with silence. He only got more and more amused but also annoyed. You were being your petty little self, the one he loved more than anything and right now, he couldn’t control the reactions your silence brought to him. He was majorly angry still and definitely worried but also very turned on by how far you were ready to go to prove a point.
You had him groveling at your feet and you loved it, so did he. He would get on his knees for less and those situations often ended with you naked and your thighs spread open. This was the kind of situation he thought about when he thought about you angry at him and the fact that you’d prevented him from seeing you or hearing you for two weeks did do a number on his sex drive.
Walking to your bedroom, he heard the sound of the water running. You were in there, vulnerable and alone. There was nowhere to run if he cornered you. He was extremely tempted and way past the point of rationality. He went in.
When you heard the sound of your door slamming open, you started panicking, ready to kill whoever it was that was breaking into your apartment. When you saw your boyfriend, your eyes doubled in size.
“What the fuck Peter ?! How the fuck did you get in my apartment ?! What the fuck are you doing here ?!”
“Oh so now you can talk to me ? That’s nice. Sucks that it took me breaking in for you to speak.”
The man let his eyes wander around your naked, glistening body, licking his lips in anticipation. You wanted to be silent ? He’d see how long you could last with what he had in mind for you. He’d make you be so loud, the entire building would hear you, and he’d have your sweet, sweet voice engraved in his eardrums.
Tilting you head to the side, you kept yourself from smiling too visibly. You could see the restraint fade on his face, the man who used to bed on your doorstep long gone. The man in front of you, taking off his shoes and shirt in a hurry was desperate for you, his eyes lingering on your exposed breasts as the water kept pouring over your body. He was weak and ready to do unspeakable things to you.
His eyes devoured you, roaming shamelessly up and down the parts of you he knew he would need in his mouth and the ones he would cover in cum to mark you as his. Peter was understanding and sweet and loving in every aspect of life, but you had this way of bringing out this side of him that would take pure pleasure in ruining you as much as possible. He’d dominate you without intentionally wanting it, simply expressing how much he needed you. And one thing Peter was extremely good at, was needing you.
He’d crave you even when you were right beside him, his body pulled towards yours and itching to feel your skin on his, itching to have your nails scratch his knuckles or his scalp, itching to feel the pad of your fingers on his chest. He needed you as much as one would need air, you were his oxygen, he needed you to live and would do everything in his pour to get his fill. He could very much be compared to an addict and would proudly carry the name if it meant having you by his side.
You should’ve known he’d be loosing it soon, noticing his shape through the window at night. You noticed him everywhere he was and heard him call your name. When it went from a soft plea to an order, you’d noticed it all, it was easy to do, your body craved him too. You could barely process how you went so long without him, internally praising your pettiness for the lengths it could take you to.
Having his presence, burning like fire and invading your lungs, you could see him shed his sweet and awkward persona to be what he kept behind closed doors or behind a red and blue mask. He kept it for you and you only, because it was yours, you had made it, molding this side of his personality with care and attention. He was the Hunter and you were the fox toying with him. He called you Bunny but you were closer to a fox sometimes, a perfect mix between soft and mischievous. You’d bounce one his lap, begging for him to kiss you but you’d also drop to your knees and watch him melt in your mouth and on your hands before letting him do what he craved so badly.
As soon as his shirt hit the floor, he was quick to slide the glass door open and reach inside to pull you towards him by the neck. Letting his jeans be soaked by the water, he smirked when he caught a quick wave of sweetness run through his nose. The sweet scent of your core, aching for him to fuck the silence out of you. Oh, eager could barely cover how you felt. You were buzzing in excitement, forgetting your anger from the previous days.
You arched your back and brought your hands to his naked chest as soon as his strong hands grabbed your neck and pulled you to him with force. He was holding your nape tight and pushed his face towards yours, lips puckering before covering yours in a passionate kiss. His fingers rubbed your veins and the bone of your jaw, managing to pull a little moan out of you and part your soft lips open. His tongue in your mouth, he smiled, licking the inside of it and feeding on your sweet whimpers.
He was suffocating your with his mouth, the kiss so messy, you could barely distinguish the drool that would drip out the corner of your lips and the hot water falling above you. You were loosing focus, the heat too high for you to handle already and the strength of his hand on the back of your head making you feel small and vulnerable. His lips were biting and pulling on yours, never satisfied enough and needing to fully feel your taste on his tongue.
He kept pulling you towards him, his body rubbing against yours in sync with him swollen lips on yours. Both of you were losing oxygen and feeling a little stinging sensation take over your flesh. When he pulled away, a line of saliva followed but was cute by his tongue licking his bottom lip. He smirked, kissing you once more and running his tongue over you lips before fully pulling away to look at the mess he had turned you in.
“Look at you… Already fucking desperate for me to fuck you… When you kept me away for two fucking weeks…”
You couldn’t respond, too mesmerized by the deepness of his voice as you felt it resonate from your head to your pussy and make it pulsate violently. You blinked slowly, still in awe, eyes staring at his face and taking in his hard features. He looked about ready to do nasty things to you, and you were ready to take it all. You clenched your thighs together, which caught his attention. He looked down on your lower stomach and smiled, he would see your juices pour out of you to coat your inner thighs.
He softly dove down onto your neck and rubbed his nose into your skin while your own hands lowered from his chest to pull at the waist band of his jeans. You shuffled with the zipper for a few seconds before he grabs your wrists together and pins them to the wall, above you. When you inhale a sharp breath in surprise, he smiles.
He watched your chest move up and down, in sync with your breathing. You tits, so soft and supple were calling for him, screaming and crying for attention. God, he’d missed them desperately in the last two weeks. He wasted no time to leave your neck to hoist you up and bring them to the perfect level for them to be facing him. He rubbed his face between them, kissing the inside of your breasts and rubbing his nose on your bust. He looked up at you and in this moment, he felt like you were a goddess being worshipped by a mortal man in desperate need for you. Your beautiful eyes were laid on his, staring at him as he nuzzled into you.
His mouth latched onto your nipples, sucking them in vigorously. He let go of your nape and your waist, keeping you up with his hips and digging the tip of his cock into your heat. You could feel it all through the wet fabric of his pants, the throbbing of his cock as it tried to spring free to find refuge in you. He wanted to be inside you but first would need to taste you more.
“F-Fuck… Peter… Baby, calm down…” You moaned, feeling his teeth bite on your nipple before going back to sucking.
He chuckled against your breast before letting it go to latch on the other. His hands were never inactive, his fingers circling around the areolas tenderly and ripping shivers of pleasure out of you on top of your needy moans.
He hummed around your skin, his hands palming and kneading your flesh like dough. He was being rough and tender all at one, bringing you to this in-between state that had you crying for more. He was turning you upside down, making you as loud as he could and he loved you. He had every intention of fucking the silence out of you after all.
When his mouth detached from your chest, he kept on grinding his cock into you and molding your breasts, fingers still playing with the nipples. His brown eyes were hooded and dripping in lust but never left you. They were fixated on you, like stuck on your beautiful face and how it would be marked by the pleasure only he could give you.
“You feel this Bunny ? You feel how hard my cock gets for you ? You can feel it huh ? Throbbing like a fucking teenager because I can’t live without you ? Nothing does this to me, only you and your sweet voice…” He groaned into your ear.
Letting go of one of your tits, he reached for the hot water, turning it off completely and replacing it with cold water. You should’ve been freezing but you weren’t, the shared body heat sufficient to keep you warm.
His lips were quick to find yours again before they moved down your neck and shoulders. He bit and sucked on your flesh, the sweet, honey like taste of your skin lingering on his tongue and engraving itself on his taste buds. Your own hips started moving, rubbing your wetness over his bulge and pushing yourself lower on his to feel him deeper.
“P-Peter… Baby please… Please, m-more…” You breathed out, needing to feel him split you in two. You didn’t care about your anger and your initial fight, you just needed him and he knew that, more than anyone. His senses picking up on your arousal and on how much slick you were dripping on him.
“You wanna beg now Bunny ? Let me hear your voice a little more before…” He smirked, bringing his hands low and pushing two fingers into your folds to gather your juice and taste it.
You were as sweet as a pint of sugar, so much so that he could feel the cavity already forming in his mouth. He tasted you before but these two weeks brought a new height of desperation in him. He needed to taste you all over again. To awaken everything that went silent the moment you crossed the door on your way out of his apartment. He brought his hands back to your folds and starting toying with your clit, swollen and in desperate need of attention. He rubbed his thumb over it, grazing it softly and shushing you when you let out a cry of pleasure.
He wanted to coo at you, feeling whiplash at the contrast between the cold girl you were to him previously but the sweet and needy girl he was grinding his cock into right now. He loved both and would get on his knees for both, but this one, he would pamper and spoil rotten, because she was his good girl, his princess, his Bunny, and she’d get everything from him. Just not now, right now she needed to be punished just a little. Because despite grinding into him like this, you were biting your lips as hard as you could to keep him from hearing you moans out his name.
“You still find it in you to be silent huh ? Still wanna be a brat ? Fine, let’s see how long you can last while I fuck the silence out of you.” He grunted, lips pressed to your ear as his thumb pressed on your sensitive bud and ripped a cry of pleasure out of your throat. “That’s what I fucking thought.”
Turning the water off, he suddenly hoisted you up, properly wrapping your soft thighs around his waist before pushing his bulge into your clenching cunt. He would ruin that poor little hole and turn you into a mess equally as bad as he’d been because of you.
While one of his hands came to grab your ass and keep you up, he put the other to work and opened his pants to let them drop to the floor in a loud tud. Slipping his feet out and kicking the dripping piece of fabric out of the cabin, he let his hand wander back to your neck, grabbing it roughly and pulling you for a kiss that would leave you crying for more. His tongue roaming into your mouth and exploring you thoroughly, you tried to pull away, muttering his name softly each time you had an opening. You laid you hands on his chest, thinking of pushing him away to breath and to win this fight, but he was a good player and you were melting into his hands. He would reach for you every time you would back up and would grunt in your mouth for you to stay still or to speak and tell him clearly what you wanted.
You felt your warm walls throb at each order he’d give you, dominating both your body and your mind. Without thinking, you had been pushing your pelvis towards his member, trying to feel the bulbous head of his cock poke at your entrance and give you slight relief. You were moaning and whining into his mouth, your sweet sound resonating through your bodies and sending shivers down your spine.
You bit back a loud desperate sound of pleasure when he probed at your entrance with his fingers and his cock all at once. The two brought you higher than what you’d experienced before, your walls parting wide for the man you love. He kept your neck held tightly in his grip, his fingers holding your head still and guiding your every move.
The sound of your whines and soft pleas was intoxicating, each one of them going from your loth to his and falling straight into his aching cock. He pulled away from you, kissing your lips repeatedly in small tender kisses. He would gladly spend more time tasting your swollen lips greedily, but he could feel him close to cumming without touching you and he was on a very important mission.
Pushing the tip of his cock into you, he rubbed it up and down, pulling out each time you’d move to have him entirely inside you. He coated your folds and the with the pearly droplets of cum gathering on the small on his tip. His hands left the back if your neck to hold your jaw open, preventing you from keeping in your sounds.
“Feel that Bunny ? Feel the tip of my cock ? If you were good, I’d give you the whole thing... Fuck… Yeah… I’d give you… All I have… If you were good… You want it don’t you ? Tell me you want it Bunny…” He groaned in your mouth, licking the inside and kissing you feverishly.
You felt his tip leave you to lay heavily on your clit, Peter guiding his member to rub on your clit and take the sounds he’d been craving from you.
“A-Anh… F-Fuck… Peter… P-Peter please… I’m begging you please… I’m sorry, b-baby please…” You cried out, feeling your swollen bud about to explode, your walls fluttering violently and tearing down your restraint. “Oh, fuck ! Baby, please ! Please Peter, please, please, p-please !”
Shoving two fingers in your mouth to lay them flat on your tongue and open your mouth wider, he nodded slowly, praising you softly for being good. He knew you’d fold, he knew what cards to play. You were his good girl, he had said it before. You would always do your best, you craved his praises as much as he craved you. Your greedy cunt was doing all the thinking for you, begging for more, begging for him to invade her and turn you into a stupid mess of cum and loud chants of his name.
“You were so mean to me Bunny… So, so fucking mean… Now look at you… Can barely think without my cock telling you what to think… That pretty little head’s all empty, ain’t it ?”
He was about ready to cum right here, right now when you mindlessly nodded, ready to do whatever he wanted from you in hope if getting properly filled up. You’d scream his name as much as he desired if it meant getting his load in every hole of your body. All this, he knew it all to well, which is why he didn’t make you wait any longer. Parting your open with his fingers and swallowing back a moan when you kept nodding like a bobble head, leaning back enough to see how your pussy would swallow him whole. Your tits in full view, you pulled him toward your chest when his long shaft split you open. God, you’d missed him so much, so, so much. He was barely in, a quarter of his cock inside you, that you already felt full. Pulling back, he shoved himself deep in you in one rough thrust. He was fully in you, the tip of his cock rubbing against your cervix.
“Oooh, fuck… Feel… F-Feel so good… So good P-Please… Gimme more… Just a little…” You mewled, voice slurred, drunk off of the feeling of his member invading you so deeply. You were properly cockdrunk, just like he wanted.
Just like he would usually do, he kissed the side of your neck and face to bring you back down to Earth. He wanted you as rational as you could be before fucking you. That’s how he enjoyed breaking you down into tiny pieces. Each and every one of them, as desperate as the next for his attention. That Peter wanted you desperate for him.
He caressed you jaw softly when you let out a cry of displeasure as he pulled out. To not upset you further, he pushed himself back into your warm walls, hands tightening around your thighs. He had waited long enough to feel his high get closer and closer. He was going to cum soon and needed you to give him at least one orgasm first. Seeing you role your hips on him, he knew it would be an easy task.
“Fuck Bunny… So wet but I still feel like I’m about to break you…” He groaned, kissing the crook of your neck to call himself down.
He let go of one of your thighs to start his attack on your pliant body. His long fingers caressed your stomach, pressing into it when he felt his own cock under your skin. When you felt his thumb run closer to your clit again, you started squirming, too sensitive to take whatever he had in mind. Now, you knew you were being punished, Peter couldn’t handle not hearing from you or simply hearing you. You’d brought this on yourself and you would take what he was doing without whining.
His hips started moving in and out of your swollen cunt, gaining a rapid and rough pace that had your cries of pleasure resonating inside the small bathroom. Eyes blown wide and vision blurred by the tears, you could only hold onto him as he fuck you deep. His cock was hitting your pelvis hard enough to have you feeling him everywhere inside you. Your nails were gripping tightly on his flesh, lashing deep marks all over his back. Your entire body was shaking at the rhythm he chose for you. You couldn’t hold yourself together, only take as he broke you down.
His thumb never left your sensitive bud, rubbing circles around it as the head of his cock plowed into your cervix. You cried louder when in a swift move, practically impossible to notice, he changed the position just enough to strike into your deepest part. You completely forgot your earlier plans, wailing his name for whoever could hear to do so.
That was what Peter Parker did when he couldn’t hear your voice. He’d fuck the silent treatment out of you if his excuses and pleading wasn’t enough. And you, little fox that you were, would sometimes find it amusing to push him when you had forgiven him long ago. You would do anything to get the dominant side out, the version that would have you obey his cock’s every command. What could you say ? You liked being turned into his brainless cockdrunk Bunny.
“Oh, God ! Peter, fuck ! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck ! Oh please, don’t stop ! R-Right there Baby please ! S-So… So good !” You screamed into his ear when you got close to your end.
“G-Good… Good girl… Give me more sounds Baby, be as loud as you want…” He praised, rubbing you clit just the right way.
A wave of white covered your face, blinding you as you felt your insides explode all over him. Your cum rushed down his shaft, drowning him in your sweet juices. He followed quickly, assaulting your recovering mind before you could come down. His cum shot out, warming your walls into a big lava like sensation. Feeling his seed spread in you drove your brain down the deepest, darkest corner of stupidity it has ever been in. Your entire body, in this very instant, knew only one thing : him. Your entire being, each and every cell in sync, screamed for him to fill you up more.
“F-Fuck ! P-Peter, Aaaah… P-Peter, Peter, Peter…” You sobbed, tightening your arms around his neck and biting softly on his shoulder. Your nails were still digging into his back, needing to ground you to something, or someone.
Your body kept rocking against his, soft thrust pushing his cum deeper into you. You were still moaning his name, your nose rubbing against his jaw and inhaling his scent. He wanted you stupid and moaning his name, keeping you as loud as possible ? Well that’s exactly what you gave him. He couldn’t help but be proud of you, his Bunny outdid herself. You truly were a good girl.
“See Bunny, that’s what you get for ignoring me.” He smiled softly, his lips pressed on your forehead. His hand went up to your nape, grabbing it tightly and pulling you closer to him. His thumb went up to your neck, grazing it softly. You swallowed hard, anticipating his next love and feeling the slick rush out of your messy folds. “Let’s see how loud you can really get, okay ? I’ll apologize to your neighbors later.”
The moment his lips kissed your temple in one last caring and loving motion, you knew you’d be in for a long night.
And you weren’t wrong to think so, your hips bruised from the firm grip he held on them as he bounced you on top of his warm cock. The physical strength given by the spider bite proved your poor exhausted body how far this man could go simply to hear the sound of your voice resonate in his eardrums, even in a very painful way when you’d scream his name loud enough of bite his skin to muffle your sounds.
You had both finished a while ago but you kept your arms locked in place, the body of your boyfriend stuck in place, against you. There was worse places and positions to be stuck in. This one wasn’t one of them, far from it actually.
“Bunny, I’m gonna lay us ok the bed okay ? I’m not going anywhere, we’re cleaning up when you feel better, that okay with you ?” He asked softly, waiting for your greenlight to move you both.
When you nodded silently, he was smooth and gentle in his actions. He delicately placed your head on the pillows, quickly throwing away the ones who’d been soaked by your bodies. You’d been smart to rip away the covers to drop them on the floor, as well as a few pillows. He had completely ignored it but sleeping in warm and dry sheets was definitely better.
You nuzzled into the pillows, looking for the perfect position before pulling him to you, your eyes closed as well as your mouth. You needed to rest after the amount of tears and screams you had let out in this one singular night.
While you fell asleep, his eyes, piercing holes in your face, analyzed your features and burnt them all individually in his memory. He’d remember the soft feeling of your plush lips against his, the heat in your cheeks, the droplets resting on your eyelashes, the crease on your eyelids as you shut your eyes to let the tears of pleasure flow out. All this, he did this and both his ego and girth were struggling with the amount of power he had over you. He knew, and so did you, that you had control over his every move. You could kiss the back of his neck that he’d beg to bury his face between your thighs. Now, seeing what he did to you turned his world upside down and spun it violently. Seeing you cry of pleasure at the feeling of his covered member, so close but too far for your liking, that made him want to see how desperate he could get you. That would be an experiment for another day, for now, he’d make you scream his name so loud, Peter Parker’s name would be more famous than Spiderman’s.
He held you by the waist and kissed the side of your neck to settle your hazy mind and bring you back to him. Your legs felt like cotton candy, trembling still at the violence of your last orgasm and the multiple ones that had preceded. While doing all of this, his lips never stopped kissing you softly, your body trembling at each one of them. You felt like a walking cliché thinking this but, they felt like a dozen of butterflies all dancing around you and resting around the sensitive parts of your body, the parts that only he could know.
Finally able to look at him entirely and without interruption, you giggle when you remembered his attire from earlier. You managed to raised yourself above him to kiss the crown of his hair.
“What’s making you laugh Bunny ?” He asked, looking at you with an amused grin. The little giggle made him scream in agony, you were making his heart stop a little more each time you did something.
“You’re wore jeans in the shower… Like that vine… You’re washing you in your clothes…” You slurred, your entire body feeling like boiled potatoes. Your voice was broken and shifted to a raspier version if it.
This could’ve killed the mood but he couldn’t help it, laughing loudly at your complete disregard for your physical state and what had happened to you not too long ago. Making vine references after getting fucked was something only you two could do, that’s how you were beyond the fighting, the little sprinkle on codependency and the many other flaws you both shared. You were a bunch of kids in love for each other to a very high degree, one that only few could reach so early in a relationship. You were lucky to be stuck in a constant honeymoon phase but realistic, with the flights and the necessary conversations.
Suddenly thinking about the reason why you two were in this situation to begin with, it all felt so stupid and futile. Looking into his eyes with a big grin, you kissed the tip of his nose before burying yours in his neck. You would apologize for ignoring him for two weeks and for putting yourself in danger in the first place, and he’d apologize for yelling at you when you were protecting him and for saying things that he didn’t think or that were true for the sake of getting his point across. You would both do all if this later, him doing his part after he properly took care of you for keeping him from hearing you for two weeks.
For now though, you’d wait until your voice was back and you’d take the time to think of another reason to be silent for a little while. Everything was a good reason to have him fuck you like this again.
okay but hear me out: peter would try to knit a new sweater identical to the one he ruined because he’s that guy to me
omg hi!!! i have no idea how i missed this but in reference to my little sweater blurb i wholeheartedly agree.
this boy is nothing if not the one to go the extra mile so him learning how to knit just to surprise you with a new sweater is such a thing he would do. and even if it's a little shotty you would still love it because he made it and he did this crazy, lovely thing for you and it makes me so soft
but also... not to make it horny by HANDS!!!! peter's hands when he knits and like when he really gets into the rhythm of it, the purposeful, deft movements and tail of yarn slipping through his fingers... and you watching him and losing your mind for it... yeah...
Bound To You
summary: (fem!reader) (Andrew Garfield!Spiderman) Peter has this fantasy of him fucking you as Spiderman, and who are you to say no? (NSFM) (SMUT)
Content Warnings: dom!tasm!peter parker, unprotected sex, degradation kink, praise kink, innocent reader, role playing, allusions to cheating, rough sex, jealousy, oral sex (f), nipple play, fingering, coming inside reader, implied overstimulation.
Sex was good.
It was romantic and slow, and you liked it. It was everything you had wanted, and more, when your boyfriend had taken your virginity. Now though? Now something was missing. You didn't know what that something was, but something was missing.
You couldn't remember who had initially mentioned the idea, but you had a suspicion it was Peter because, on that Saturday evening rather than going over the mutual Chemistry assignment you had, he wound up kissing you the moment you walked into his dorm:
You instantly swing your arms around his shoulders, stumbling into him clumsily as you ask into his lips: "Wait — what about Harry? Isn't he home?"
"Shh, don't say his name when I'm kissing you," Peter mumbles into your mouth as he suddenly shoves you onto his mattress and quickly climbs over you to kiss your exposed shoulder. You can't hide your grin as you wrap your legs around his hips, hands tugging at his brown locks.
Harry had always made Peter jealous. It was an unwarranted jealousy since you had never shown any interest in Harry. Ever. But you wouldn't lie, Peter's jealousy made your lower stomach tighten marvelously.
"I missed you," He moans and leans in to kiss you again, pulling on your lip this time, dropping it and kissing you once more, hungrier this time.
"You saw me this morning!"
"Your point, Miss (y/l/n)?" Peter asks seriously, disconnecting your lips and staring at you like you had just said the most scandalous thing, "I missed you, okay? I missed your nose, your hair, these beautiful lips."
He quickly kisses you again, "I missed seeing you like this; hair mused over my pillow and skin exposed. Can't I miss my girlfriend?"
You beam up at him, taunting him, "Kiss me again then, Mr. Parker."
And he does. He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you. While you love his kisses, you had also missed him very very much, and you didn't understand why he wasn't making any moves to, well, have sex with you.
"Please, do something Pete, I want you." You whisper, giggling as his hair skims your cheek and goosebumps scatter across your skin when he kisses your neck passionately, intensionally leaving his mark.
"Have some patience (y/n), I wanna fuck you but," He begins and as he does, his lips suddenly disappear from your skin. You look at him curiously as he sits up. When he hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you lower onto the mattress so he can really tower over you, you squeal happily.
"I wanna fuck you as Spiderman." He finishes, looking at you with dark, lustful eyes. You choke on air at this confession and quickly lean up onto your elbows, hair spilling across your shoulders.
"You heard me." Peter says, stroking your exposed thigh with his thumb. He then begins to bunch up your skirt and you close your eyes, moaning quietly, "Kinda like role playing? Imagine you don't know I'm me? If that makes sense? It would be so fucking hot, don't you think?" He whines, leaning down to kiss your lips again as he rubs his palm over your panties.
You can't deny that that sounds super hot as heat pools in your core and you bite your lip, "W-would that mean I would be cheating on—you?"
He laughs, his hand moving quicker as you buck your hips, seeking the pleasure he's creating, "Yeah, I guess so." He admits but then he's gripping your thigh with his other hand and whispering hotly against your ear, "But Spiderman could make it up to you."
He looks down at the dampness of your panties with amusement, "You're dripping, princess. You want my fingers, don't you?"
You whimper in response, cheeks warm as you look at your boyfriend. He looks beautiful from this angle; with his hair toppling over his features and wearing that lopsided smirk you love so much, "Words love, use your words." Peter chastises, pulling at your panties and letting them snap back onto your clit.
"Yes! I want your fingers." You moan.
"What about Spiderman, do you want his fingers too?" Peter taunts as he pushes your panties aside and slowly dips his index into your pussy.
You arch your back, moaning and automatically nodding your head with enthusiasm. You shut your eyes and groan when Peter adds another finger, and another as he pumps them in and out. You can't see him but you're sure his hazelnut eyes are burning into your skin as he watches you squirm underneath him.
"Good girl." He praises as he presses his thumb on your clit, rubbing a little and causing you to whine out as your legs shake. "You want to come all over my hand, huh? Is that what you want?"
You nod, "Please." You say and suddenly, his fingers curl up. In surprise, you jerk and attempt to close your legs as your back arches.
"Oh!" Your scream is smothered by his kiss. One of his hands push on your thigh, preventing your legs from closing as you come.
When Peter removes his hand from your middle, your smiling up at him with glazed eyes. He smiles back and brings his fingers to your lips. You let them slide into your mouth as you begin to suck on them, tasting your juices.
"You should leave your window open tonight, Spiderman might visit you." Peter teases, winking.
Your smile widens around his hand, "I'll wait up." You mumble and you know by the stupid grin he's wearing that he understood every word you so said, no matter how incoherent around his hand.
* * *
It's almost midnight now as you lay in your twin-sized bed, listening intensely to the sounds of the wind and any movements that could be happening outside your window. Because your roommate was out visiting family, it was only you, the darkness, and your pounding heart.
You turn onto your side, playing nervously with the silk pajama shirt you had on as you chew on your lower lip. It was exhilarating, knowing that when Spiderman came in through your window, you would pretend to have no clue he's Peter Parker. Your Peter Parker.
Your mind begins to wander, imagining Spiderman's — Peter's — lips on yours and how his spandex covered hands would tighten on your hips as he drove his dick into you, again and again. You subconsciously rub your thighs against each other.
Suddenly, you're pulled from your thoughts as the window opens wider and you instantly shoot up in bed, cheeks burning and core throbbing as you stare at Peter — no, Spiderman.
He tilts his head, simply continuing to stare in silence as you pull your legs closer to your chest, the blanket still draped across them, "Hi." You manage to croak out, not sure how Peter wanted this to happen. When he didn't answer, you lean more into the fantasy, "Spiderman? What do you want?"
He walks closer, "You." He rasps out and you're instantly reassured by hearing Peter behind the mask. You blink at him when he raises his arm and in a blur, your gently thrown against the headboard, your hands are restrained at either side of you head.
Webs, he's holding you in place with his webs.
You can't seem to talk when Spiderman approaches you. You want too, and you want him to kiss you so badly but because he's wearing his mask, you don't think that's an option.
You're quickly proven wrong because as Spiderman crawls over you, basically straddling your hips now, he pulls up his mask a little over his nose and captures your lips in his. His cold hands cup your cheeks and you instinctively lean into his touch.
"Mmm, you're an obedient little thing aren't you?" Spiderman whispers roughly, smiling into your mouth. You can't suppress your own smile because deep down, this is all just a little bit funny. All this pretending as if you didn't know that under the mask it's Peter. Your Peter.
"I have a boyfriend."
Still, it certainly is fun to pretend.
"And you've made no attempts to push me away." Spiderman chuckles, sliding his finger down your cheek until he slips his thumb into your mouth. In the dim moonlight, he looks even more alluring than he would have in the daytime and in some way, he looks almost ominous. It makes you wetter.
"Some boyfriend you must have."
When he removes his thumb, you almost laugh but he kisses you instead. You want to tell him that you have the most amazing boyfriend but you can't because when he disconnects your lips, he's talking again.
"Did you wear this for him?" He pulls on the collar of the shirt you're wearing and quickly you look down and then up at him again, nodding innocently. "I think he would have loved it. I know I do." You smile as he leans down and begins to kiss and suck across your neck and collarbone.
"Pe—Spiderman!" You moan when he slowly unbuttons the shirt and slips one hand inside to knead your breast. You arch up into him, pulling the webs holding you in place as he pulls down your shirt to take one nipple into his mouth.
You moved around under him as his other hand travels lower and lower, pushing the blankets aside as you hold your breath. When you feel his hand halt over your middle and see him look up at you, mouth ajar, you smile.
"Oh, so you're also a slut?" Spiderman taunts, palm now resting nonchalantly on your bare pussy. You squirm and shake your head. Spiderman only nods, "Oh but I think you are. Such a dirty slut. Mmm, I wonder if you're as wet as I think."
You groan and clench your hands as he runs one finger over your slit and your cheeks burn in embarrassment when he laughs. "Wow, you're wetter." He exclaims and lightly slaps your pussy, "Slut." He grins, squeezing your boob with his other hand.
"Kiss me." You whisper.
Hearing those words, he slips his finger into you and you buck your hips, "What was that?" Spiderman taunts again.
"What about your boyfriend, little dove?" It's a game and Peter's enjoying it way too much. He smirks as you suppress your moan and he begins to fully finger you under the blanket.
"I don't care, just kiss me! Please!" You cry. He smirks and moves quicker and harder. You can feel your stomach tighten and you know you're not going to last much longer.
"I'm going to — " You whimper but he interrupts you with a kiss again, also pulling his hand away. He doesn't give you time to complain when the minute he disconnects your lips, his hand covers your mouth.
"You come when I say you come. Now listen closely, I'm going to unweb your hands and turn you around. Then, you're going to show me that pretty ass of yours and let me do whatever I want to you, okay?"
You quickly nod, eyes blown wide with lust as his roughness turns you on. You want him to manhandle you this time, "And do you know why?"
You shake your head.
"Because that's how you treat cheating whores."
You grin behind his hand, that word sending pleasurable shockwaves into your pussy and you nod even quicker than the previous time. You feel dirty but, somehow, you like it. It's the good kind of dirty, the safe kind. You know you're always safe when he's around.
When Spiderman removes his hand, you stare up at him with that purposefully innocent look in your eyes and you whisper, "Fuck me."
"God," He mutters quietly, "So impatient." He cautiously pulls on the webbing from around your wrist as to not hurt you, but the minute your hands are free he lifts you up and turns you around.
You squeal when your head hits the pillow, your hair toppling over your eyes. Spiderman is pulling your hands behind your back and binding them with webs again so you can't prop yourself up or move. You hear him laugh, "Good girl."
"Honey, here, let me." He says condescendingly as his arm slides under your waist and roughly pulls you up so you're resting on your knees, ass in the air. You moan when he slaps your ass, his hands kneading the skin.
"You're such a beautiful girl." Spiderman says and you have to bury your head in the pillow to suppress the needy sounds you make when you feel his hot breath on your pussy.
You squirm when he licks up your core, hands gently pushing open your thighs. He begins to suck gently on your clit.
He has never done this to you, no one has, and it feels like you're about to bursts. You moan and squirm around as he only works quicker, smiling into your pussy and kissing it.
"You like it when I do this?"
"Uhh huh." You groan out when he licks you again, and again until you're seeing stars and begging to come.
"You're wetting my mask with your juices, dirty girl." Spiderman taunts, leaning up onto his knees and you hear him start to shift around and take the suit off.
"I'm sorry, please, I'm so sorry. Oh!! I need you so badly."
"Who do you need, slut?" He whispers roughly as he lines up his dick with your slit. He's whispering dirty things in your ear as he teases you and you're crying now, tears wetting the pillow under you. When his hand bunches up your hair to pull your head back, you can't hold it in and you come on his dick with a loud moan.
"Did you just come?" Spiderman asks, a little surprised. However his hold doesn't loosen on your hair, it hardens and he pulls your head back harder, "I said, did you come, slut?"
You nod, biting you lip as you steady your breaths, "What you going to do about it, tiger?" You pant, challenging as much cockiness as you can.
You swallow your words when you feel him press into you in one quick thrust, "Shut up." He demands when you whimper. "Damn, I'm going to enjoy this." He growls, pushing your head down as he thrusts into you harder and harder.
"Who do you need, (y/n)?" He hisses, punctuating your name with a hard thrust.
"You!" You moan without thinking, stomach tightening again.
"Say my name! Who's slut are you?"
"Your slut! Spiderman's slut," You pant.
"Damn right, you're mine now. Mine. I might have to take you all night and every night from now on you feel so amazing. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He rambles, fucking you rougher than he has ever done and it's like you're floating.
You can only nod meekly as you make needy sounds to match his thrusts.
"I knew you would."
His hand tightens around your hair again, fucking you with passion as he whispers dirty things in the shell of your ear again. It's animalistic and rough and you've never experienced pleasure like this. You're kind of ashamed of how much you're liking it.
"It's always the innocent ones that are so cock hungry."
"Spiderman, I'm going to come again!" You exclaim and his thrusts slow a little, making you groan in frustration, "Please, p-please." You whimper.
"You come once I come!" He explains and begins to kiss across your neck and jaw, "Now, be a good girl and put some work into this. Don't be a useless whore."
You moan and move your hips to his thrusts, opening your mouth wider as you continue making those desperate sounds he loves so much.
"Good girl." Spiderman praises and kisses your neck again, his hand slowly going to rub your clit. When he begins to play with the sensitive nub and you moan loudly.
"S-stop, you're going to make me come again."
"Good because I'm coming too." And sure enough, he's spilling into you as his grip tightens on your hair. Feeling him come makes you come, and you mumbled his name. His real name; Peter.
Suddenly it all become a little too much in your post orgasm haze and you begin to shake, "I'm sorry. I-I," You're not sure you want to end the scene because this kind of fucking was exactly what you had been missing, but this is the first time you've come so hard and you can't seem to breath normally as you feel weaker than ever.
"Peter. I need Peter. Please." You croak out, continuing to bury your face in the pillow as you cry from the pleasure and an unknown feeling in your chest.
Spiderman drops his hold on your hair gently, quickly shifting and pulling out. He breaks the webbing around your wrists and turns you around. When you look up, it's not exactly Spiderman anymore but a naked Peter, his mask already discarded on the ground.
"What's wrong (y/n)? What happened? It's me, it's so only me, did I hurt you?"
He cups your cheeks and uses his thumb to wipe your tears as he examines your expression with concern. You sit up to hug him, "Peter." You mumble his name like a chant and bury your hands in his hair.
"You're okay, I promise." He coos.
You nod, "I know, I know. I just, it's dark and I've never come like this and I couldn't see you and it all suddenly scared me. I'm sorry I ruined the moment, I just wanted you!"
You hug him tighter, skin on skin as your breathing calms. Peter wraps his arms around you too, pulling your disheveled shirt up your shoulder again as he kisses it.
"I'm here." He promises.
Once you've regained your bearings, you pull away and smile at your boyfriend. You're both naked and covered in sweat, and you have Peter's come inside you and smeared on your inner thighs.
"H-how was it?" He asks nervously.
"It was amazing. Simply amazing. I've never come so hard in my life." You say, kissing him. Only when you pull away a little, your hand is still in his hair, "But you know you're enough for me, right, Pete? Because you being Spiderman is amazing and all, but I love Peter Parker. No one can fuck me like Peter can and this," You point between you and him, "Only proved that."
He lights up at you comment, pulling you in to kiss you again, "Good," He mumbles in between kisses, "because no one but me can fuck you."
"Only you and Spiderman?" You giggle, teasing him.
He looks up at you, cheeks a little pink, "Yeah, only me and Spiderman."
"Good." You grin.
tasm!peter parker x f!reader
summary: You get a bunch of weird calls from your boyfriend Peter, causing you two to take a midnight walk
w: suggestive like twice
a/n: this is starryspidey, i just changed my name!
“Hey, y/n can you pick up? Something kinda funky just happened when I was in the subway. Call me back.”
“Do you know if it’s possible for your eyesight to change—and not as in it gets worse but gets better? Or trick yourself into thinking you need glasses? Call me back.”
“Oh my fucking god, hey y/n do you know by any chance if guys have second puberty? With like crazy strength and like sweat that causes you to stick to shit? Call me back.”
“Hey I know it’s 3 am, but—”
“Oh my god Peter what?!” You groaned into your phone. You turned on your bedside lamp because you know you’ll have to get up. “I know you're an insomniac but I finally got to sleep, so what is so important?”
“I’m really hungry and I don’t want to go out by myself and I was wondering if you would like to come with me.” Outside? Really? You glanced at the clock, 2:21. At this hour?
“Only if you pick me up.” You decided. It’s not like you could ever say no to him. “I’m not walking alone to meet you.”
“See you in five.” Peter agreed, you heard some grunting on the other end before you pressed the end call button.
You savored your final moments in the warmth of being under your covers before slowly getting up. You rubbed your eyes, getting the sleep out, then clicked on your voicemail while putting on some sweats. His voice echoed out as he talked fast and panted a bit.
You heard a soft knock at your window soon after, and through the soft lamp light you could make out Peter's face. He waved, then motioned for you to unlock the window. 5 minutes couldn’t have passed, it seemed more like two minutes.
“How’d you get up here?” You stuck your head out and looked down. “And so quickly.”
“Just climbed the fire escape.” He gestured for you to get out onto the fire escape. “No biggie.”
“Thought you were scared of heights?” You joked, but Peter just rolled his eyes, while still trying to keep a watchful eye on you. Both of you were trying to be as quiet as possible as to not wake the other people sleeping in their rooms.
When you both eventually climbed down, you headed to the neighborhood bodega. He reached for your hand, then when you were about to take it he quickly pulled away; almost like there was an eclectic shock that repulsed him from you. Maybe he outgrew holding your hand? Is that a thing that happens to happy couples? Or is Peter now guilt ridden and now wants to break up with you?
“How are you doing?” You instead asked. He might just be having one of those nights, but he definitely seemed off.
“Meh.” He shrugged his shoulders as he held open the door for the bodega store. You smiled at him as you entered, him following from behind after having some sort of altercation with the door. You both made a beeline to the slushy machine, grabbing a cup and looking at the limited and terrible options. “Did you ever listen to my messages?”
“Changing eyesight, sweaty sticky hands, strength and freaky subway shit, right?” Peter nodded as he filled up your cup, then his.
“Yeah, uh, I was wondering if…” He sighed and handed you your slushy. “If you know if that's normal?” He cringed at his word choice, it wasn’t what he really wanted to ask and you could clearly tell.
“Uhm, didn’t Aunt May get you one of those books that tells you all about your ‘changing body’.” You softly laughed, causing Peter to get quickly flustered.
“Please don’t make this more embarrassing.” He mumbled, picking out some gummy bears and pretzels before going to the old many behind the counter.
“$9.28 ‘s your total.” The man said. Peter reached in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled ten dollar bill and put it on the counter. The older man grabbed it and Peter grabbed his snacks and you grabbed your slushy, heading out the door.
“I’m not sure if asking your girlfriend about the normality of a man's body makes the most sense.” You took a sip and out of habit reached for his hand but hesitated from earlier. Peter’s already drowned his slushy, dumping it in a passing bin.
“Actually you're perfect for that” He ran in front of you and walked backwards, arms held out. “Notice anything different about me?”
Clearly he isn't planning on breaking up with you, but you still had no idea what this was all about. You sighed in relief, though you were still worried because Peter definitely wasn’t doing too well. “You look good, Pete. Super sexy.” You teased.
Peter rolled his eyes but he still seemed displeased with your answer. “Look closer, like, here hold these.” He handed you the packets of snacks and then took off his shirt. “I have muscle now.”
“Um,” What are you supposed to say? “Hot?”
“I know it is, but I don’t know why I have ‘em.” He itched the back of his neck. “Also, do you know anything about Spider bites?”
“Can’t say that I do.” You laughed. Now, this was more like Peter--not the new muscles--but the rambles and crazed brain; it’s what made you love him more than anything. “Put your shirt back on, you’re going to catch a cold.”
“I feel great.” Peter mumbled, but still put the shirt back on. He took his snack back, just after you took some gummy bears. “But, do I look normal to you?”
You gave him one more look over. He did look more athletic than before, which to be completely honest you were still confused on how this happened. He must have been working out and finally saw the change underneath his big sweatshirts. You didn’t know if he was feeling insecure, even when he has nothing to be insecure about. You love him, not for his charming looks but for him.
“You do look more...muscular. But you still look good either way.” You told him. He pursed his lips and he was still contemplating what you said. He had a crease on his forehead and looked down. “I love you no matter what you look like. Besides, you look amazing, my super handsome, hot, sexy, pretty boyfriend.”
He looked down but you could see the blush coating his cheeks. “You’re pretty too y’know.”
Now, it’s your turn to get all flustered. “I woke up less than an hour ago–”
“Yeah, but you being half-asleep is a very good look on you.” He raised his head and was looking at you with a smile on your face. You were so relieved to see it again.
He put the plastic bag of gummy bears to his mouth and at them all, then started on the pretzels; you reached for one, but Peter was able to quickly pull away, like he knew you were going to do that.
You just rolled your eyes at his comment and changed the topic. “Do you want to head back, or is there something else on your mind?”
“Nah, I can drop you back off.”
A few minutes passed. You finished your drink and threw it away, but you still wanted to touch him, just to hold his hand.
“Can I hold your hand?” Peter looked over to you and smiled, before looking down at his hand his smile faltered. “Please?”
“Okay.” He reached for your hand but then pulled back. “If it hurts, let me know okay?”
“What, with your newfound muscles?” You joked, grabbing his hand, wrapping your fingers tightly around it.
“Something like that.” Peter smiled, calming down with your touch. He experimentally and lightly squeezed your hand. He didn’t see any pain on your face so he let out a sigh of relief. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Do you want to stay over tonight?” You asked. “My parents are leaving early so they won't even know you're there.”
“Sure.” Peter smiled and then kissed your cheek sweetly, making the heat rise up to your face.
When you reached the fire escape that would lead to your bedroom window, you wondered how you would be able to get back up, or how he got up there in the first place.
“I got it.” He lowered himself slightly. “Get on my back then pull yourself up.”
You agreed and did what he said, gaining a few extra feet helped you reach the first bar on the ladder so you could pull yourself up. You looked back down at him.
“How are you going to get up here?” You asked.
“Watch.” He said with an excited smile. He stepped back a bit then ran to jump onto the bar, holding on with one arm. “Cool right?!” He looked so impressed and in utter awe of himself; it was kind of cute. “And that's not even the best part.”
What he seemed to have done next shocked you. He unwrapped his hand from the bar so only his palm was to touching the bar. You rubbed your eyes to see clearly; it was dark, maybe you're too tired, maybe this whole outing has been a lucid dream and you really miss Peter. Could it be slushy? Those bodega prices did seem a little too cheap.
“How are– Are you doing that or am I hallucinating?” You said it in a joking manner but was one-hundred percent serious.
“Nope.” He swung himself up to meet you on the first platform. “Told you I have sticky hands.”
“I think I need to lie down.” You headed to the next ladder and started climbing up, Peter close behind. Eventually you reached your window, Peter ever being the gentleman, started opening up the window.
“After you, m’lady.” He pushed up and you headed inside then Peter right after. When he got in, he harshly closed the window so you could see small debris of brick and wood; you looked back over and then up at him, there was a crack in the brick.
“I’m definitely hallucinating.” You decided, grabbing his hand and walking you both over to bed. You climbed in and he soon followed, right after taking off his jacket and jeans so he was left in his shirt and boxers.
“So, on the off chance if I'm not hallucinating and you did get really sticky and strong, how did this happen?” You mumbled as you snuggled into Peter embrace as he did into yours, your hand was in his hair and his face was in your neck.
“I think I got bit by a spider when I was at Oscorp.” He told you.
Sure, why not? “What else can you do?”
“Uhm, I think my senses are really good now. Like, I know when you are going to try and steal my snacks.” You scoffed and Peter just laughed lightly.
“Okay, well I don't think it’s second puberty.” You told him. “Have you run any tests on yourself?”
“No.” He sighed. “Hoping you could be there with me.” There was a pause, you felt Peter shake a bit and take some deep breaths. You held him tighter and ran your fingers through his hair.
“I-I just don’t know what’s going on with me.” His words barely above a whisper. “I just don’t want to be a freak and for you to be scared of me.”
“What if we break up?” He started to panic. “Like what if we find out I can do something gross and you decide I’m too weird and break up with me.” He held onto you tighter, scared of letting you go.
“Hey, hey, hey.” You cooed. “You’re not a freak or gross and I will love you either way. It’s just now you have powers or something.” He scoffed and sniffed at the same time. “Maybe one day you could be a hero, going around, saving people's lives. Much more interesting than skateboarding, huh?”
“Now you’re just pittying me.”
“No, I think you could be someone's hero, you’re my hero.” You kissed his cheek. “My...Spider-man.”
“Spiderman?” He asked, voice slightly raised.
“Okay, maybe not Spiderman–”
“No, I like spiderman.” He lifted his head up so he could see your whole face. “Has a nice ring to it.”
Glad You’re Home (TASM! Peter Parker x fem!reader)
Summary: You’ve known Miles Morales for years. You knew high school would be an interesting time for him. What you didn’t know was that would involve him becoming Spider-Man’s protégé. Nor did you know it would involve him bringing an injured Spider-Man to your apartment one night for you to take care of.
Warnings: Fluff, descriptions of injuries, hint of angst, mild sexual innuendos and lots of flirting. Reader also has a nickname. Set after No Way Home. Reader and Peter are in their 20s (post college).
Notes: I haven’t written in literal years, but couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Shoutout to @lipstickbisous for inspiring me to write the fluff you want to see in the world. 5.5K words later and here we are.
Part two is up! As is part three!
You were beginning to prep dinner when you got his text.
MM: Hey, you home?
MM: Need your help. Be outside in 5.
You gulped. Ever since Miles told you that he was working with Spider-Man, you had been worried for him. You couldn’t help it-you’ve known the kid since he was four. He was the first person in the apartment building to greet you when you moved in. You still had his ‘Welcome’ card on your fridge. You babysat him, watched him grow up, even offered to pick him up when his parents were busy with work. His mom joked a few times that they should include you in their annual Christmas card.
So, you knew that once he entered high school, it wouldn’t be the easiest. As much as you tried not to think about it, a decade later you still remembered how awkward things were in high school. You didn’t want to be overbearing, but you let him know that he could always talk to you about anything.
You thought ‘anything’ would be about crushes, bullies, classes, or annoying teachers. Maybe a puberty question or two. Not ‘I got bit by a radioactive spider, now I have these superhuman abilities, also Spider-Man is teaching me how to be a hero and now I’m helping him save New York City’.
Nope, you were not expecting that one. Though it did explain why he had started coming home late at night, injured, and bruised over the last few months. You always offered to fix him up, which he always took you up on since you didn’t ask as many questions as his parents.
After proving it to you-which involved him swinging you around through the city-you promised not to tell anyone.
“I won’t tell a soul. Promise. But tell that Spider-Man he needs to do a better job keeping you safe. You’re just a kid,” You told Miles, your protective side coming out. There was a reason his mother teased that Miles just had one dad, but ‘tiene dos madres’.
Miles rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I’ll make sure to tell him that. Any other message you want me to pass along to him? I can also tell him you’re single and-”
“Are you seriously trying to set me up with Spider-Man? Really Miles?” Now it was your turn to roll your eyes.
“I mean, at this point your options are friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, Mrs. Daniels’ great-nephew, or the Amazon guy that delivers packages to Mr. Lee.” You laughed. Ever since your last relationship ended two years ago, it seemed your whole apartment was desperate to get you a date.
“Wow, such wonderful options. How can I possibly choose?” You both laughed.
Usually, he didn’t text you ahead of time. He tended to just show up outside your window. So, for him to text you meant something was wrong. Very wrong. You couldn’t help but pour more wine into your glass. If he was seriously injured, he probably wouldn’t have texted you. So why was he asking you? What had happened?
The tapping outside your window startled you. You looked up, relieved to see Miles standing outside the fire escape, appearing to be in pretty good shape.
Your eyes widen when you realized he wasn’t alone. He was holding someone. Someone dressed in a red and blue suit with cuts and tears that you could see from across your apartment.
Holy shit. You knew Miles was working with him (he made you well aware of that). You just never thought Miles would actually bring Spider-Man to your apartment.
You needed more wine.
You chugged the remaining liquid in your glass before running over to your window. You could see Miles rolling his eyes at your action, but you didn’t care. You knew it would help you keep your cool.
Upon arriving to your window, your theory was confirmed.
“Miles, is-is that-“You pointed to the person in Miles’ arm, whose head was down. He still had the mask on, although it had several noticeable tears.
Miles nodded, “He’s really hurt and your apartment is much closer than his place,” His voice dropped to a whisper, “You also have a better first aid kit.”
The body let out a groan, “Where are we?” He mumbled, barely lifting his head. You were caught off guard with how deep the voice was. Also, it sounded like he was from Queens? Who knew.
“We are going to get you taken care of, Bud,” Miles told him.
“Really Miles? You know I’m not an actual nurse, right?” You whispered to your neighbor.
“Well he’s stubborn and refuses to go see a real one, so you’re the next best thing! And like I said, your apartment is much closer.”
“We live in the same building!” You glared.
“Yes, but if I brought an injured white man to my home, my parents would freak out.” He wasn’t wrong.
“Wait, this isn’t my apartment,” the hero muttered. It took everything in you not to laugh at the remark.
“Alright, bring the guy in.” You said, opening the window all the way. Miles motioned towards the limp Spider-Man, who was about halfway through your window. You grabbed his legs so Miles wasn’t the only one carrying him.
“You’re so lucky I haven’t removed that towel on my couch from the last time I patched you up,” You told him. You had worked hard to be able to own nice furniture that wasn’t purchased off of Craiglists and you’ll be damned if Spider-Man got blood on it.
“Where the hell am I?” The spandex clad hero mumbled, trying to lift his head up.
“Just take it easy Tiger,” You told him, unsure if he could even hear you. You and Miles gently laid him down on the couch.
“I’ll go get the first aid kit,” Miles said, running to your kitchen. You were thankful that you splurged and got the premium version a few weeks ago.
As Miles went through your cabinet, you looked down to inspect the guy on your couch. It was clear why Miles brought him over. The guy looked like he had been through hell and back. He had several gashes on his torn suit, a mix of dried and fresh blood on the wounds. You were also certain there was gravel mixed into the wounds on his torso. You could also see dried blood on his face-at least on the cuts that had partially opened his mask.
“Jesus Christ, what happened to him?” You asked Miles, running a hand through your hair.
“Pushed me out of the way, which caused him to be the one to be pushed through not one, not two, but three walls.” Miles explained. You immediately thought back to what you had told Miles a month ago. He needs to do a better job keeping you safe. Whether Miles relayed that exact message to him or not, the superhero had done just that.
“I-I’m fine,” the hero grunted out, trying to sit up. You could tell he was in great pain, that it hurt to move his own body.
“You,” You placed your hands on his shoulders, gently pushing him back down, “Need to lay down. You are clearly not fine. You’re the opposite of ‘fine’ right now.” He tried to push back against your hands, which you could tell was quite the struggle based on the hiss he let out.
“M’am, I-I appreciate your help, but I shouldn’t be here. It’s putting you in danger-“
“I already know one bug boy who regularly visits here, I doubt having two in my apartment is going to do anything besides increasing my heart rate. Now lay down.” You ordered. You didn’t have time for this. You were planning to have a nice evening that consisted of eating pasta, drinking wine, and watching the latest show on Netflix. Not become the nurse to New York’s favorite web-slinging hero.
“Yeah man, she’s not going to let you walk out of here looking like that,” Miles commented to him.
“I heal really fast. By tomorrow morning, I’ll be fine,” He argued.
“No! You have multiple wounds that need to be patched up so you don’t bleed out. From the looks of it, you also have some debris in a few of these cuts that need to be taken out as soon as possible so you don’t get an infection and you know, loose a limb or die.” You argued back. Why was he so stubborn, so adverse to the idea of someone helping him out?
“Look, this isn’t even my worse injury. Give me like ten minutes and I’ll be able to swing back to my place-”
“So what’s Spider-Man like?” You asked Miles.
“Peter’s really nice. Don’t tell him I told you his name though, he would flip. Incredibly smart, like it’s insane. His web shooters? He made those himself! But he tends to keep to himself. I keep telling him he needs to get out more. Not as Spider-Man, but as…well, himself.”
“Well, I guess Spider-Man and I have that in common. Who would have thought?”
“Not exactly. You may be stubborn, but you’ll accept help and talk to people. He tends to just…keep himself in. Don’t tell him I said any of this,” Miles quickly added.
You laughed, “I won’t. I mean, I can’t, considering I don’t know the guy.”
“I can change that,” Miles said, a gleam in his eyes.
“I’m good but thanks though.”
“I’m helping you, okay? You’re hurt and need help. It’s also the least I can do to thank you, since you kept my favorite babysitting client safe,” Your voice softened, “We’ll clean and patch you up, give you some food, and then you can go home, deal?”
It was hard to read him since most of his face was still covered by the mask.
“Fine,” He grumbled, lying back down. You smiled, glad you got that argument out of the way.
“Alright, Miles where did you put that first aid kit?” You turned to see your neighbor holding it up. He laid it down on the nearby table and opened it, handing you gloves and wipes. You crouched down next to the couch so that you were at eye level with Spider-Man. That was when you realized that it would be next to impossible to clean the wounds on his face with his mask still on.
“Alright, I know you’re not going to like this, but you do need to take off the mask so we can clean those wounds on your face.” He let out a groan.
“Miles, I swear to god-“ He started and it took a lot in you not to laugh because finally someone else understand the (loveable) pain in the ass your neighbor could be sometimes.
“Hey man, she’s safe. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I had any doubt,” Miles commented. You smiled at him, happy that your neighbor of twelve plus years still backed you up. Not that you had any doubt, but confirmation was always nice.
“Plus, I have no need to exploit your identity. I make decent money,” You told him.
An exasperated sigh came out of the hero’s mouth, along with some mumbling on how ‘if you had just taken me back to my place like I told you’, before speaking up “Fine.”
He grabbed the edge of his mask, pulling it off to reveal his face.
You knew he was around your age, single, and incredibly smart but what Miles had failed to leave out was that he was also incredibly attractive. This guy was single? With that amazing bone structure, incredible hair and wow, his eyes. You normally didn’t find brown eyes attractive, but wow was he an exception.
“You…okay?” The now unmasked bug boy asked. You realized that you had been caught staring.
“Yeah, I just…. didn’t realize Spider-Man was my age,” and incredibly attractive but you could give Miles grief for leaving out that detail later. Once the friendly neighborhood web slinger was out of your apartment.
“This is going to sting, so I apologize in advance,” you said, leaning in so you could begin cleaning up the wounds on his face. Miles went back to your kitchen, filling the kettle with water. He was being unusually quiet. You wished he’d start talking about his recent web-slinging adventures so you could be distracted from the fact that you were inches away from Spider-Man’s stupidly attractive face.
“It’s fine, this isn’t my first time.” He muttered.
“First time having someone do it for you?” You asked, trying to make small talk.
“No,” He whispered. A look of pain and sadness flashed across his face, which instantly told you to move on.
Miles’ words about how he kept to himself rang in your ears.
“He told me he lost someone a while ago. Someone he really cared about. I think that’s why he keeps to himself.”
Whoever had helped patch him up in the past was clearly not there anymore. And from what Miles had told you, it was easy to infer that he hadn’t had someone there to help in a while.
“Wait, were you about to make that pesto dish?” Miles asked. You realized that many of the ingredients were still laid out on your kitchen counter. Luckily the shrimp was still defrosting in the sink, so maybe once this was all over you could still cook. Or order takeout.
“Yes, I was until you dropped by.” You said without even looking at the kid. A small smile crept across your face.
“And you didn’t tell me?!” Miles said, feigning an offending tone.
“No, I thought I could have a normal night for once. How silly of me to expect that,” You said, giving him a wink before you diverted your attention back to your patient. You were surprised to find that his scowl had been replaced with a small smile.
“Are you the babysitter?” He asked. Because of course Miles would refer to you as ‘the babysitter’ and not your actual name.
“Yeah, I’ve known the kid since he was four. I had moved into this building when I was nineteen. He was the first person to welcome me. Can you look up so I can get the one on your chin?” you couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Moving to New York City at such a young age was scary. You probably wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Miles, his family, and many of the other residents in this building.
He lifted his chin up and wow, why was having a long neck suddenly attractive to you? Christ, you needed to focus so the dude could get out of your place and you could potentially have some peace and quiet for one night.
“Alright, looks like your face is clean. Now the rest of you,” You looked down at his chest and eyes widen again.
“What?” He asked.
“Uh…you’re going to need to take that off. Your-your suit.” You quickly turned your attention back to your first aid kit, pretending to have trouble finding something so he didn’t see your flushed face.
“You know, usually I like to be taken out to dinner before taking off my clothes for someone,” He remarked. You looked back to see a smirk on his face. Because of course he was hot and sarcastic. Because the universe was just going to really rub it in that you probably could have been on several dates with this guy by if you had taken Miles up on his offer when he made it the first time.
“Sorry, but you’re doing my way tonight. Take your clothes off for me first, then I’ll treat you to dinner, okay?” You remarked back. You couldn’t tell if it was the wine you chugged earlier or your determination to not have a guy make you flustered in your own damn house.
He reached up to his shoulders and began pulling down the outfit, pulling it down until it was hanging off of his waist. Even with the dried blood and gashes, it was quite obvious the guy was ripped.
“Hey Miles! Can you get this guy some clothes from your place? We can make his comfortable at the very least,” You called to your neighbor, who was currently cleaning your tweezers. You figured the guy didn’t want to be half naked in a stranger’s apartment. Plus it meant his abs would be covered which would help you focus on the task at hand.
As soon as you saw the gleam in the kid’s eyes, you knew you made a terrible mistake.
“Of course! I’ll go swing by, let my parents know I’m okay, have dinner with them, and swing back!” He said, placing the tweezers on your table way too quickly.
“Just tell them you’re having dinner with me. I still need your help-“
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back with clothes for our Spidey. But MJ, I know you’re going to do a great job taking care of him!” He said, practically giddy as he ran out your door, leaving you two alone. Because of course he saw this as an opportunity to introduce you to each other and fucking took it.
“MJ?” You turned your attention back to the way too attractive for his own good hero that was laying down on your couch.
You noticed right away his body language had changed. His eyes were so wide, you could barely see the beautiful brown color around his blown irises. He was sitting up (kind of, the best he could do given his injuries). He didn’t look worried, but more shocked? Surprised?
You laughed, “Yeah, that’s what Miles use to call me when he was a kid. Had a hard time saying my full name, so I told him he could call me by my initials, which-in case you haven’t already figured it out- are MJ.”
“You’re MJ?” He asked, his voice barely a whisper.
“Yes, I’m MJ. Nice to meet you, Mr. Spider-Man,” you said, sticking out your hand to break the tension. You were trying your best to ignore the intensity of his gaze. You knew you were good-looking, but no one had ever stared at you quite like that before, like they were in awe of you.
He stuck a shaky hand out, gently grabbing it, “I-I’m P-Peter. That’s, that’s my actual name.” He managed to get out. Why was he nervous around you suddenly?
“It’s nice to meet you, Peter. Are you okay?” You asked. You could tell his mind was going through different emotions from the look on his face. You saw sadness flash through his face again, followed by….hopeful?
“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. I just….Miles talks about you a lot and I...I didn’t realized the neighbor he talks about was…you. MJ.” You smiled. Something about the way he said your name made your heart flutter. Usually, your rule was only Miles was allowed to call you that, but you were more than happy to make an exception for him.
You then realized that he was still holding your hand, “I should…probably get that gravel out of your torso.”
“Right right, sorry,” He stumbled, quickly dropping his hand. You grabbed your tweezers and leaned down so you were at eye level with his torso, which happened to include his abs. God, why did he have to be attractive? It made concentrating on his wounds incredibly difficult.
You two sat in silence as you focused on getting out the bits of gravel that had lodged themselves in his wounds. You occasionally looked up at him to make sure he was okay. You were met back with that intense gaze. You were usually so good at making quick remarks when people stared at you, why were you coming up blank now?
“I…I’m sorry for earlier. I was being stubborn,” He said. You looked up and smiled, shrugging your shoulders.
“I honestly don’t blame you. Miles told me you’re use to working alone, so I imagine this is a change of pace for you.”
“Yeah, working with someone again has been…an adjustment. But it’s been a nice change of pace.”
It was clear as day that this guy-Peter-clearly had been through some shit. And thanks to years of therapy, you could tell his way of coping was to keep to himself. Which was a shame, because from what Miles tells you, he sounded like a good guy.
“I mean, it’s always good to shake things up-at least that’s what my therapist tells me. Not saying you should start tapping on random women’s apartment windows when you’re injured. That would be weird and probably get you arrested,” you were relieved to hear him laugh. God, he was so cute when he smiled.
“Alright, I think I got almost all of it, just need to get this last bit,” you said, pushing back your hair that kept falling over your eyes. You were so caught up in the fact that Spider-Man was in your apartment and injured that you forgot to grab a hair tie. There was no point in grabbing one now since you were so close to being done.
“Here, let me help you,” Before you knew it, his hands were gently grazing past your cheeks, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail that was held together by his hands.
So that’s what your directors meant when they said to act as if their touch was electric.
“Thanks,” there was no hiding your smile. It was pointless to even try.
“Least I could do for the person taking care of me,” His voice was so soft and soothing. You took another look at him, smiling before you looked back down to focus on getting out the last few pieces.
“So…Miles told me you’re an actor?”
“Yes. In addition to be a neighbor and part-time nurse, I act. I’m actually about to start a new show. First time on Broadway, which is exciting,” You said. All those years of endless auditions and casting calls were finally paying off.
“Miles says you got a great voice.”
“Miles says you are incredibly smart. You’re a scientist during the day, right?” Turning the attention back onto him made you feel less self-conscious.
Peter groaned and ran a hand through his hair, “Is he just giving away identifying information about me?” You were sad about the sudden loss of contact, but you couldn’t let him know that.
“Only when he’s trying to convince me to go on a date with you,” You said. Now it was his turn to blush and boy, was his face red. “Does he do that with me, or just refers to me as his babysitter?”
He nodded his head, still covering half of his face with his hand, “Yeah, he’s reminded me several times how great you are. And that you’re single. If I had known….”
“Known what?” You interrupted, curious.
“Uh, well, if-if I had known I would have been meeting you tonight, I…..I would have cleaned up,” He said, pointing to the stubble on his face. You had a feeling that wasn’t the whole answer, but also knew that prodding would not give you your desired outcome.
“It’s fine, I like guys with stubble,” you couldn’t deny how much fun you were having making him nervous. You finished wiping the wounds-now free of gravel-and knew it was time to start covering them.
“Oh. That’s…. that’s good to know I guess.” You could tell he immediately regretted that line. It was quite clear that the guy was not used to talking to women. Which, in a way, made him more attractive? It was endearing that the guy who regularly keeps New York City safe and had fans nation-wide, had a hard time talking to someone he found cute.
“If it makes you feel better, I also turned down his offer. I don’t like the idea of blind dates. It feels weird, you know?” You said as you cut another piece of adhesive bandage to press on his chest.
“Yeah, I just…. don’t have a lot of time for that kind of stuff.”
“Don’t have time or just chose not to?” He looked startled, which made you realize how big of an accusation you were throwing him.
“Sorry, are you also a therapist in addition to being a nurse, neighbor, and actor?” He asked.
“No, I’m just someone whose therapist has told her she does the same thing. She also says it would be good for me to get out, but I’m no longer a party animal. Much rather have guys just drop in, you know?”
It was most likely the wine, but you felt a new surge of confidence. You leaned closer, partly so you could get a closer look at the cuts near his collarbone, but also so that you were now inches away from his face.
“Miles…. he’s not coming back for a while, is he?” Based on the hitch in his breath, you could tell that your plan was working.
“Oh tiger. He’s not coming back for a long time. You didn’t catch that?” Miles wasn’t subtle. You were surprised you hadn’t received a text from him, asking if the two of you had fallen in love yet.
“Tiger. Is there a reason you’re calling me that instead of…. Spider?”
“Spider doesn’t feel right.”
“But…. it’s my name.”
“A, it’s not your name. Your name is Peter. B, Tiger suits you better,” You said matter of fact.
“Are you just an expert on nicknames? Is that your superpower?” His tone was playful. It was a total departure from the absolute grump that had entered your apartment earlier.
“It is. Miles didn’t tell you that when he was trying to convince you to ask me out?” You asked, pretending to be shock as you placed another bandage on his chest.
“No, but he did tell me you make really great snickerdoodles.” You groaned and buried your face into the pillow that was propping him up. The fact that a sixteen-year-old was your best help at finding a date was sad.
“You know, for how determine that kid is when it comes to getting us in the same room, he really struggles with selling someone,” You said with a chuckle. It was then you realized that you were right next to his face. You could hear his shaky breathing and your chests were practically touching.
You felt his hand gently push some hair behind your ear, “Yeah, he failed to mention you’re an absolute knockout.” You were really glad the pillow was still covering your face so he couldn’t see your widen eyes or red face.
His hand immediately dropped from your hair, “I’m sorry, that was way out of line. You’re just….really, really amazing and-”
“You know,” You sat up, essentially straddling his waist which got him to shut up, “I think if we told Miles that we kissed, he might leave us alone for day. Maybe two.”
Getting him to laugh felt so good. Maybe it was the fact that you were once in a similar boat or just a strong hunch, but something told you he hadn’t laughed like this in a long time.
“But it’s not good to lie. It kinda goes against the whole morally good superhero shtick,” He said, pushing hair out of your face.
“Who said we would be lying?” You bit your lower lip, hoping it would get your message across.
Thank God it did. He leaned up to close the gap between your lips and his and fuck, his lips were soft. Your hands found a place in his hair, desperate to find a way to deepen the kiss. You felt one of his hands gently place itself on the back of your neck, the other gripping the edge of your t shirt because he too was desperate to keep this going. Despite how much he stuttered and stumbled around you, he was a surprisingly good kisser.
“Hey guys, I’m back with-OH.” You regrettably broke away, so you could turn your attention to your door. Standing there was matchmaker of the year, Miles Morales with his mouth hanging wide open.
“Don’t you dare act surprised, this is exactly what you wanted to happen,” You quipped before he could get a word in. You could feel Peter’s large hands resting on your waist and you were really regretting giving Miles a key to your place.
“I….I brought clothes,” Your neighbor said, holding up a pair of sweatpants and shirt that he probably stole from his dad.
“Great, Peter can shower and change and while he’s doing that, you’ll help me make dinner and we can eat”
“I already ate-“
“You’re helping me make dinner,” You repeated, giving him a knowing look that you had perfected from years of babysitting the kid.
“I-I don’t want to overstay my welcome. You’ve done enough already-“ Why couldn’t this guy take a hint? You wouldn’t have kissed him like that if you didn’t want him to stay.
“But it’s part of the deal, remember? You took your clothes off, I fixed you up, we kissed, and now you can be taken out to dinner. Also my shower is one of the very few that is actually easy to figure out how to operate and it’s quite lovely if I do say so myself.”
“Are you saying I smell?” He asked with rather cheeky smile on his face. He absentmindedly began to move the hand he had on your back up and down, in little circles. It was such a soft, gentle gesture you were surprised you didn’t melt.
“I work in theatre. Unfortunately, I have smelled way worse. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather take a shower and change into clean clothes after going through a wall. Unless you want to just walk around my place shirtless-“
“Should I leave?”
“No Miles, because I’ve been waiting years to make you uncomfortable,” You smirked as you got up from Peter’s lap to walk over and grab the clothes from Miles, “Be careful what you wish for.”
“I told you that you wouldn’t complain. I just want to make that known.” You stuck your tongue out before walking back to Peter, bending over to hand him the clothes and give a kiss on an unscratched check of his because why the hell not.
He took the clothes, but not without a big, almost goofy, smile on his face.
“I’ll let you know if your shower is as intuitive as you claim it be,” He said, standing up.
“I look forward to it. Go down the hall and take a left, first door you’ll see.” You turned around because if you didn’t, you would probably kiss him again and while you loved to tease Miles, you didn’t want the boy traumatized.
You walked over to the kitchen to join your neighbor, who was giving you a knowing smile. You put a finger to your lips, and motioned to Peter, who was almost out of view. You waited until he was gone completely and you could hear the sound of your shower running before you let out a small squeal.
“And just think, if you hadn’t been so stubborn this could have happened sooner,” Miles told you as you buried your face into your hands. You felt like you were sixteen again, which was ridiculous because a guy you just met shouldn’t make you feel that way.
“Well, if we end up getting married, you can give a speech about how you’re the reason we’re all there,” You said as you moved over to the sink to focus on the shrimp that was now completely defrosted.
“Can I do a mic drop at the end of the speech?”
“Can I pretend to?”
“Sure,” There was no containing your smile. You didn’t know where this was going and for once, that didn’t scare you like it would have in the past. The only thing you knew for certain was that you were incredibly thankful to be home tonight.
lost the game; [tasm!peter imagine]
— Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x F!Reader
— Summary: The explanation your mind settled for was that whoever lived under that mask, also lived somewhere close by. It explained the first time you found him limping and bleeding on an alley, and it explains how you evolved into his personal caretaker for the wounds and afflictions of Spider-Man’s after battle consequences.
The only thing it doesn’t explain, however, is why through the thick and convoluted webs of your strange situationship, a certain tension has built between you two. Palpable. Physical. As electric as some of his tales, and as dangerous as he is.
The tension between you and Spidey grows, and it grows, and it grows. One day, it snaps.
— Word count: 3.3k
— Warning(s): This work is for 18+ audiences. Minors DNI. Explicit descriptions of sex (f/m). I do not give permission for my work to be used or distributed in other sites.
main master list | marvel master list | ko-fi ❥
< PART ONE
“I really want you,” you confess.
Spider lets out a shaky breath. “Good.” He nods. The hand on your waist holds on tighter, and he pulls you closer. “I haven’t wanted anything this bad in a long, long time.”
When he kisses you again, you can feel that.
The words, the feelings behind them, the truth in it.
His lips start softly pressing against yours, and you're thankful for the late-night hour, the blanket of darkness washing over your room. Spidey kisses you like he wants you back just as much as you want him.
It's been so long since you've just kissed someone for the sake of kissing, and the realization dawns on you as his tongue meets yours in a delicious, filthy drag.
Spidey pulls your waist to him and slides both your bodies down so you're lying flat against the bed; through the fog that his kisses create on your mind, you realize how easily he moves you.
As if you weigh nothing. Then, it dawns on you—to him, you don't.
That pulls a groan from the pits of your gut.
Spidey's mouth on your swallows it down, and your fingers start grasping and holding on to whatever bits of hair it can reach underneath his mask.
Slowly, his body descents on yours and he lets you feel some of his on weight too. His tall, slender figure covers yours in the best way possible, and you lose yourself to the feeling of kissing him.
How long had it been since you wanted someone so bad to the point of just kissing, and feeling?
He seems to be in the same predicament if your judgment is not too cloudy. Spidey pulls back for air eventually and you whine, chasing the feeling of his lips.
His smile makes your heart do stupid, crazy things inside your chest.
"I've wanted to do this for a while," he breathes close to your mouth. Then, he kisses your jaw. "Didn't know if I could—if I deserved it," he mutters, trailing his mouth from your jawline to your neck. "You always smell so fucking good—why the hell d'you have to smell good?"
That makes you giggle. When pull back to answer him, though, the wide, white bug eyes make your words falter for a moment.
He senses it—Spidey's sense is something out of this world, and with you this close to him, you're sure there's nothing he would miss. "It's weird, right? Is it weird? We can stop—I don't want to, kissing you is the best thing that's happened to me in a while, but we—"
"Spidey," you interrupt. He shuts his mouth and adjusts himself on top of you with either one of his elbows resting on each side of your face. "Do you trust me?"
Without hesitation, he nods. "Yeah."
"Okay," you nod. With determination, you push his body away and he gets the hint, getting off from you. You crawl across the bed towards your double windows and thank the skies that you're the kind of person who's a night owl.
The black-out curtains were one of the first purchases you made when renting this loft and now, you feel blessed by them for more reasons than allowing you to sleep after long shifts and studying all night long.
When the two of them are closed, your room is blanketed with the darkness of the night-sky, and your vision goes blind.
It's crazy how much your other senses come forward when one of them is deprived.
You can hear perfectly your own breathing and the soft ruffling of your sheets. "Spidey?" You whisper.
"I'm here," he says on the opposite end of your bed.
"Can you see anything?" you ask, crawling back towards the direction of his voice, slowly.
"A little more than you, probably," there's soft laughter very close to you, then you feel a hand wrapping around your wrist. He pulls you to him and now Spidey's sitting with his back to the headboard of your bed, fitted between your pillows.
You crawl on top of him, straddling his lap, feeling your heart beating on your throat.
Your hands feel all the way up to his neck.
When they're there, you cup his neck in your hands and caress the soft skin it finds there. "Hi," you mutter.
All you can feel is the heat of his body underneath you. "Hi," he whispers back. His head leans forward and your foreheads touch. "How the hell did I fall on your hands of all the hands in this hell-hole of a city?"
It comes out as a breathless whisper, but it makes your insides curl.
He speaks it in such a reverent way that it's impossible for you to not feel it. "I'm glad you did." You lean forward, giving him enough time to back away and when he doesn't, you press a soft, chaste kiss on his lips. "Can we—can we kiss more? The curtains—I just closed so you'd feel more comfortable," you confess. "You don't have to take the mask off, but I can't see you now."
"I know. I know," Spidey nods, and you feel another kiss pressed on your lips. "It's just—," he swallows thickly, and his hands on your waist pull you flushed against his chest. "Gimme a second."
You sit there, waiting.
Every movement of his body is now felt by you—every inch of his body is pressed against yours, and because you can, you wrap your legs around his waist, locking your heels together.
That's when you feel it—you're adjusting yourself on his lap when Spidey's left arm comes up to the back of his neck, and he grips the back of his mask.
The sound of the material being pulled off makes your heart beat faster.
He trusts me. Oh, god, he really, actually trusts me.
"This is better, right?" His voice sounds lower.
Raspier—more serious. His arm around your waist and underneath your ass secures its grip, and you nod. "I... thank you. For trusting me, Spidey-boy," you chuckle, feigning nonchalance to try and mask how much your heart is trying to beat out of your chest.
He laughs too, the same nervous undertone as yours in his mirth, and then kisses you. "I wish I could do this in the light of the day," his voice carries so much that you wonder if this is what you were both chasing when the hug turned into a kiss. Spidey almost sounds on the verge of tears underneath you, and you can tell these are words he's been holding back for a while now. "I wish—D'you get why I don't? I'm—It terrifies me. If I'm me and I meet you, and then someone who's Spider's enemy discovers my identity—it's you they'll go after, Y/n. I've been there before. They can't go after you. D'you get that?"
"I do," you kiss him quiet, and you both lose yourselves in it.
He worries. All those times thinking he didn't want to spend time with me—he just worries.
The thought multiples, and grows like a tree in your mind. It spills over in the kiss.
He wants you, and thought about it, too. He's been protecting you, guarding you against the fact that his double life comes with consequences.
When he pulls back again, you whine in protest. "No—get back here," now that you can, you grab a fistful of his hair.
Spidey groans against your lips, laughing. "Hold on."
"No," you protest, and smash your smiling lips on his again.
Spidey lets you, and the kiss is nothing but two smiles pressed together for the first moment. It takes a couple of pecks and the sweet drag of his bottom lip over your mouth to open you up.
The way he kisses is intoxicating.
It makes you feel like someone new—it sparks something inside of you. It takes so much to make you comfortable and willing, needy and receptive, but his touches all land in the right places.
The kiss builds up. More than touching, it senses like a delivery. All of his wounds are forgotten, and all of your worries dissipate. Nothing but the drag of his tongue against yours and his hands gripping your body tight resonate on your mind, and Spidey uses his hands to guide your arms up—he holds you by the elbow and guides your hands until they reach up, touching his face.
You gasp in his mouth.
"It's ok," he whispers. You feel his smile, and swallow the knot on your throat.
Tentatively, you let your hands explore over his face.
It's so real and terrifying to trace the outline of his jawline, the shape of his lips, and his full eyebrows that everything else becomes silent. Spidey lets you do it, allows your hands to draw his features in your mind, caresses over his closed eyelids.
The thought slips out of you in a breathless whisper,
"You're so pretty."
He chuckles, and his legs slide up higher, trapping you inside his hold. "Ah—thanks."
You bite your lip, feeling your mind go hazy.
Underneath you, he's not exactly soft anymore. Both of you must be highly aware of that fact, or at least, you are. It makes you burn, and the core between your legs feels twice hotter since the moment you sat down.
You don't know how far he wants to take this, but stopping kissing him is out of the question. "Hey, Spidey—"
It's a whisper.
It catches you, like a trap in the woods.
"I imagine there are enough around there for me to let you have at least this," he whispers, and when his lips are on yours again, they tremble.
You kiss him, and melt in his arms in the process. When he pulls apart for air again, you whisper. "Hey, Peter."
"Please, don't stop."
Peter takes a deep breath underneath you.
"You don't want me to stop?" He asks, his arms squeezing around you.
Not to stop what, you're unsure. Whatever it is, you're sure of the answer. Shaking your head, you whisper. "No."
Don't stop kissing me.
Don't stop touching me.
Don't leave. Don't go anywhere. Don't leave. Please, don't leave.
Whatever part of your thoughts he hears, he takes it to heart, and pushes all the answers from his lips to yours.
His name is Peter.
That's the first thing you catalog now, and they start webbing one into the other.
Number one, Peter's an excellent kisser.
He knows when to grab you by the hair and guide you where he wants you to be, and knows when to let you take control. He allows you to play with his hair, to grab his face, scratch his nape—all that you have to offer, he's willing to take. Peter lets you bite and nibble on his bottom lip, and in return, he sucks your tongue inside his mouth. It's like a push and pull, a game of wits that one of you is winning, and so is the other one.
Number two, Peter's got a mouth on him.
You discover it the first time he pulls back for much needed air and takes his breaths hiding in the cusp of your neck, with his hands getting bolder and learning the outlines of other parts of your body now—like your stomach, your ribs and your breats. He holds the new parts he finds, and grips the one he likes the most. It pulls mewls and whines out of you, and that's when he first chuckles against your skin, all malice and desire.
"You're sensitive here?" He asks, grabbing your sides. "Or here?" His hands run up to your boobs, cupping them in his hands. "Fuck. D'you know how many times I had to think about the vilest things I've ever seen to distract myself from these right on my face? My line of sight? Fuck, Y/n, they're so soft."
His mouth goes from its trail on your shoulders to your collarbones, pulling on your sleeping shirt to get more access to the space between your tits.
"Wanna kiss them so bad—can I kiss them, pretty?"
"God—teaching you my name's the best idea I've ever fucking had," Peter laughs, with more genuinity and happiness than you've ever heard. "Was that a yes? Can I? Say 'yeah, Peter'."
"Alright, I can take a hint." Peter's hands were quick.
That was Number Three: Peter was quick.
It was an easy fact to forget or overlook, but impossible to let it go once you felt it. Peter had agile fingers and a lot more dexterity in his pinky than most men would ever dream to accomplish with their whole bodies, their entire goddamn lives.
It's your winning word of the night, and the one that rings in your ears when the realization of how hard he already is underneath you hits.
Number four: Peter's not little anywhere.
It's the last fact you're able to register before your notion to count, think, or do anything other than whine and beg come to play.
"Y/n," his hands get a grip on your waist.
The waist that's grinding on him, chasing the outline of his cock and how good it feels fitted between your folds. There's only your your baby doll between you and his sweatpants, and the state his kisses left you is already leaving a spot of wetness on his clothes.
"It's too hot," you whine, and Peter nods on your neck.
"Can I take it off? Our clothes?"
Your mind swims as he relocates you to his side to undress you. The darkness and Peter start to mingle as one, and this all might as well be a dream.
It feels like one, and tastes like one, too.
He takes off your clothes slowly, and you lay with your back on the bed as your ears pick up him removing his own clothes. Yours, technically, but with his smell. Images of you with the sweater he's wearing tonight over the course of the week flash on your mind—sniffing the material to get a sense of him when he's away. Pathetic, and yet true.
When he lays his body over yours this time, it's only your skin against his.
You swallow thickly, embracing the heat. Your lower back's starting to sweat, as is your temple, but you gladly take it, because the heat Peter brings warms you from the inside out.
He kisses you again, and your legs come up to wrap around his thighs. "Peter."
"You want more?" His waist grinds down. Peter's tall enough to cover your body with his, and his pelvis fits right on yours. The outline of his cock brushing with your folds makes you ever wetter, even needier. "D'you have condoms? I can't carry diseases, but I think you don't want the mess."
OH, god. Your mind blanks, resets, then restarts.
"Get inside me. Right. Now."
Your assertiveness is met with laughter, but is dies on his throat when he lines himself up with you.
The thrust is mutual, and with only a few movements of his waist, there he is.
It's more than just fucking.
There's no rush. No despair.
Peter's vocal with how good you feel—so tight, so good around me, so good, pretty. He's patient, and too damn attentive to every twitch of your body on his.
Peter's strong, and the difference between any previous hook-ups to him is made obvious when he stays there, holding himself with his forearms over you, his hips thrusting inside with no struggle. He eventually moves you on top of him again to let you take control, and holds your whole weight when it gets too much.
He wants you to feel good, and wants you to know that he's feeling good, too.
It may be the continuous, rhythmic movement of your bodies together, grinding on one another and holding tight on your arms and whatever part your hands can reach, or the way he alternates between kissing you and whispering the filthiest compliments to you and how good it feels, your pussy feels so fucking good, pretty.
It may be all that or the fact that it's intimate, it's needed.
Peter builds your orgasm up from the inside—knits the whole thing with his hands and his patience, because all he wants is to feel you all around him.
When it comes, it's a tsunami.
"Peter—feels too good, too good." Reasoning and stringing sentences together was an ability lost when he sat you on his lap and bounced you up and down for the first time, hitting every single spot inside of you.
He understands you just fine. His sweaty locks between your fingers feel almost as good as his grunts and whines pressed right on the middle of your chest. "I know, baby, I know." God, his whines are fucking music. "Oh my god, you're a sap," he laughs.
And oh—, "I said it?"
"You did," he groans. "You're gonna make me cum like this, pretty." Peter grabs your nape and crashes your mouths together, changing the angle of his legs.
With his feet planted on the bed and the headboard as leverage, he can thrust upwards and hit right on your G spot. By your scream, he figures that out pretty quickly.
"Oh my god."
"Oh, you're clenching on me—you gonna cum, pretty?" Peter smacks your ass, and his hand on your nape glides down through the sweat, lower and lower. It wraps on your neck lightly, as if testing the waters, and when you bend your neck backward, Peter's thrusts become erratic.
His hand grips your neck just right.
"Do it. Lemme see, c'mon. Cum on me, baby. Can I cum in you? You want that?" Peter's words are met with incoherent babbles, and you're officially cock drunk now—the bouncing gets louder, the sounds filling up the walls of your room and the heat emanating from your bodies could power up the whole block, probably.
"Please what?" He growls.
"Please cum in me," you cry, feeling your legs starting to weaken.
It's okay because he's got you—Peter holds your waist and pounds into you. "Who d'you want to cum in you, pretty? Say it. Say my name, please—"
"PETER, please! Please cum in me. Please, please—"
"Oh my fucking god," Peter cries, and his thumb comes up to rub on your clit at the same time as you feel the heat and the twitching inside of you.
When Peter cums, a part of you blacks out.
Your orgasm is pulled from you in a crashing wave, and he rides it with his mouth on your ear, whispering words that flow in the background.
"You did so good. ... Oh, god. So perfect—you're fucking perfect, baby."
It takes you a while to come back from it.
Everything is still, and his breathing underneath yours connects your chests.
He shifts his head, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Hm? You okay?"
"... You'll stay, right?"
Peter takes one heartbeat, and then presses a kiss on the juncture of your neck and your shoulder. "'Course." He kisses your cheek. "I've got morning lectures, but—I'll stay. You want me to stay, right?"
"Then I'll stay."
Peter keeps his promise, and you wonder how something you've dreamt of before is the reality that you fall asleep in.
You wonder which will be the reality you wake up to.
-> Part THREE
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fem reader riding tasm!peter’s face? 😚
tasm!peter x fem!reader — NSFW!
warnings: face sitting, face riding, fingering, mentions of squirting, pet names, did not know how to end it
smut under the cut.
“just climb on top” peter instructed from below you, a tempting smirk on his pretty face while his hands rested on your hips. your exposed crotch rested comfortably on his stomach, which was easy to slide up and down on now that your slick had built up on his naked abdomen, your own hands laying flat on his chest.
you gazed down at him, a nervous pout on your face at the foreign request. you had never rode peter’s face before, let alone even sat on it.
he seemed keen on the idea of it though; always asking if you would be up for it but never actually committing to the intimate act. after not much convincing from peter you had agreed to finally do it, now sitting in the current position and him waiting for you to quote on quote: ‘climb on top.’
“what if i suffocate you or something,” you asked jokingly, but a serious concern still hinting behind it.
peter snickered as he pulled on your hips, your legs effortlessly sliding up his stomach to place you just above his chest, a shiny river following underneath.
“you won’t, bun” he insisted, voice laced with a comforting laugh while his fingers traced the lines of your skin. “not that i’d mind.”
your face grew hot at the snarky remark, eyes not missing the quick moment when he raised his eyebrows cockily, biting his lip lightly. you rolled your eyes playfully before moving to lift yourself up on your knees, climbing over to hover just above his face. his eyes tried to stay on yours, but ultimately found themselves inching down to the dripping cunt above him that he had anticipated far too long for.
“that’s it bun, place that pretty pussy right on top. just that that.”
peter’s words had your legs shaking as they lowered, making you all the more excited for the events that were soon about to take place. he had definitely been more excited about it than you in the beginning, but now you could hardly even wait.
once you sat yourself fully on his face, he was immediately diving into the hot pool of your slick, burying himself deep inside. your hands gripped onto his hair as you instantly moaned aloud, moving to pull your legs back up at the sudden arousal.
peter was quick to push you back down, sucking in a deep breath when you lifted up before digging back into your soaked pussy and holding your legs down. he lapped away at your wetness, tongue licking stripes along your folds as his head bobbed up and down.
“oh my- peter, shit.”
you let out enchanted screams as he continued to eat at your cunt, his tongue dipping in and out of your entrance while his hands gripped onto the flesh of your waist, holding you in place.
an ecstatic moan unwillingly left your lips when his hands began slowly moving your hips, your crotch rocking against his mouth and syncing with the rhythm of his tongue. he guided your hips for a little bit, eventually grinning into your cunt and humming happily when you started moving faster on your own.
peter’s hands ran smoothly down your thighs as he licked up to your clit, one of them stopping to rest on it while the other slipped underneath, slowly sneaking into your folds.
“you taste so fucking good, y/n” peter cooed, his fingers digging into your cunt as your hands scrunched onto his hair. “so fucking good.”
you continued to whimper needly as you rode his face, a wetness building around his mouth as he sucked at your clit and stuffed his fingers inside of you; replacing his tongue perfectly.
your hips squirmed on top of him, voice crying aloud as your legs began to shake; slowly starting to give out when the lapping of his tongue on your clit sped up. your back instantly fell against his stomach, not being able to keep yourself up anymore from the intense feeling between your legs.
peter lifted himself up, mouth still attached and continuing his eating as he pushed you towards the front of the bed; your body now displayed in front of him. you cried out when his fingers increased their speed, pumping into you like a mad man and causing you to squirm even more, trying your best to pull away from his face.
you suddenly groaned harshly and whined when you felt yourself finally became undone, a sharp nerve popping inside of you and eventually dying out as his hands achingly began to slow down and pull out. your chest was heavy as you stared up at the ceiling, breathing hardly as you came down from your high, a contempt smile plastered on your face.
a sudden wet feeling coated your stomach, your head slowly lifting up to see peter placing warm kisses up your stomach. his hair was weirdly damp, drops of some unknown liquid dripping down from the strands on onto your skin.
he broke into a soft laughing fit, smiling as he came closer to your face and placed a light kiss to your cheek.
“didn’t know you could do that” he spoke in a lewd tone, eyebrows raising. you stared at him dumbly, bringing your hands up to run through his oddly wet hair; your face scrunching.
you tried to understand what he was talking about, playing with his dripping hair as you looked around. peter laughed again when you finally realized, watching in amusement as you quickly tore your fingers out of his hair and whipped them on your shirt.
a small puddle had formed on the mattress underneath you, the new sight bringing a prominent heat to your cheeks. peter smiled again, placing a kiss on the top of your head before sitting up from the bed.
“don’t be embarrassed babe,” he mumbled softly, disappearing from the room before returning with a towel. “it’s normal.”
“plus, i really liked it” he said with a smirk, gliding the towel slowly across your sensitive folds. “i’ll definitely be making you do that more often now.”
“the squirting or the face riding?” you joked, still trying to catch your breath.