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deathbyathousandspiders · 10 months

Text

“ twenty–bucks. „

mcu!peter parker x fem!reader.

IN WHICH — the avengers had their theories about you and peter’s secret pining, but it wasn’t until a mission went wrong that they realized how serious it was.

WARNINGS (18+) → mentions of blood/wounds, cursing, angst, fluff, hurt reader.

✨masterlist✨.

2k.

Peter had been counting the minutes since you two started dating. It had been twenty months since you joined the Avengers, seventeen months since he realized how hard he’d fallen for you, nine months since you first kissed, and eight and a half months since you started your relationship.

It were though it all happened yesterday. Everything felt like it happened so fast; yet on the other hand, everything felt like it hadn’t even happened at all.

Tony Stark had scolded Peter about the difficulties of dating an Avenger, and what harm that would do to their reputation, how the government would respond, the amount of paperwork the two of you would have to fill out…blah blah blah.

Despite how often their teammates teased them, or encouraged the other to make a move, you two decided to keep your relationship a secret.

Hiding a relationship from the Avengers wouldn’t be too difficult. At least, that’s what you told him. It certainly added some adrenaline to your dynamic; the secret hand holds under the table at meetings, side–eyed conversations across the room, fucking in the storage closet as quietly as possible, the little things.

You made it all worth the risk. That is, until he remembered what the real risk of dating an Avenger really was.

Peter practically flew off the ground with how fast he ran towards you. His ears rang, deafening him from how quiet the world fell around him as he kept himself focused on your limp figure. The glossing breeze over his suit felt numbing, especially as he tripped and slid on his knees til he was finally able to take you in his arms.

“Baby..” He broke the silence, shaky fingers grazed your arm as he rolled your body over. “Babe, we–” Quick to examine you, his eyes fell wide at the large gash in your abdomen. Blood pooled out through your suit from the glass lodged in your stomach, still poking out of your skin. Peter swallowed thickly, trying to keep himself from panic.

The entire world stopped moving.

His entire world stopped moving.

Everything ran cold.

Peter didn’t know what happened. He didn’t know how he could’ve let this happen. One second, you were assigned to keep watch in the abandoned foyer, and the next? Peter left you for what felt like two seconds to kick a grimy dude’s ass or two, and there you were: unconscious and bleeding out.

“Kid? Squirt?” Tony asked through the earpiece intercoms, referring to both Peter and his unconscious girlfriend. As startling as the sudden voice was, Peter needed it to ground him back to the present. “Do you kids copy?”

It took everything in Peter to keep his lip from quivering. He nearly forgot to answer with how clouded his thoughts were. Cradling you carefully in his arms, he adjusted his grip to fumble over the earpiece. “We need a medic!!” Peter exclaimed, taking in as deep of a breath as he could muster, “Y/N’s unresponsive–”

You laid cold in Peter’s shaky grasp, not moving other than the shuttered lifting and easing of your shoulders with your breath. You were still alive, and Peter tried to cling to that as much as he could. He’d lost too many people. He couldn’t bear to lose you, too.

“Don’t freak out. And don’t touch her wound.” Tony sounded extra stern, which was how he typically expressed panic. It felt like a personal jab at Peter, but he knew better than to interpret it so malicely. “Bruce has your location and is on his way now.”

Peter could barely process the sentence, but all that registered was that help was on the way. He pulled the mask off his face before pulling yours off as well. Vision blurry, he could still make out the cuts that managed to scrape your cheeks.

He pressed his lips to your hairline, holding you gently in his arms. Your skin was cold against his touch, and he treated you as delicately as he could. He knew you weren’t dead, but knowing that you got hurt and he could’ve done something to stop it, he blamed himself. And he didn’t know what else to do besides rock you back and forth while the tears spilt from his eyes.

Footsteps approached behind him, but Peter was too focused on counting your breaths to shift his focus onto them. He kept hold of you, only moving his stare from your tattered face when someone shadowed over the two of you.

Natasha met Peter’s stare for a moment before crouching down to examine your injuries. Her lips pressed into a small line, tensing at how much blood you were losing.

“Do you know what happened?” She broke through the silence — At least, what would’ve been silence if not for Peter’s choked sobs.

He exhaled, shaking his head. “She was– She was keeping watch while I.. While I fought off the–”

Rushed footsteps through the rubble of the warehouse cut Peter off as he and Natasha looked over, Bruce and Steve running in.

Peter felt Natasha snake her arms under you, lifting you out of his grasp with ease. He felt himself panic at your absence.

“W–Wait!” He cried, more intensely than he intended.

The three looked at him, curious at his urgency. They watched as he stood up, finally wiping the tears from his eyes. “I don’t want to, uh- to leave her..”

A small, sympathetic smile touched Bruce’s lips as he nodded. “You don’t have to, but we gotta hurry back to the quinjet.” He started, taking steps back the way he came from, “I don’t have the supplies to treat her right now.”

“Has he eaten today?”

“Not that I’ve noticed.” Bruce replied solemnly, “I’m starting to worry about him, Nat.”

As you began to come to, faint murmurs grasped at your attention.

“He’s barely left this room since we got back yesterday. We’re lucky he’s stretching his legs to go find her some blankets.” You recognized Bruce’s voice instantly, though you kept your eyes shut as your consciousness collected itself. “I’ve never seen him so distraught.”

“Y’know..” Natasha spoke up, “He slept here last night.”

You felt your heart break and skip a beat at her words.

There was a pause. “I–I know. He was asleep beside her when I came in this morning.” Bruce mentioned.

You blinked your eyes open, quick to regret it when you were greeted by an overwhelmingly bright light.

“I can feel it, Banner.” Nat chimed, “They’re smitten.” There was a faint song to her words. “I think I caught him kissing her cheek before he left.”

It warmed your spirit to hear how affectionate Peter had been, but you could barely remember what happened, let alone why he’d be so distraught.

Bruce chuckled quietly, “I’m sure Tony will be thrilled to hear that.”

Once your eyes adjusted, you realized you were in the medical wing. Did you hit your head or something? Slowly, you sat up, freezing when the realization hit you.

Your hand flew to your lower stomach, hissing in pain at the wound by your hip. “Jesus.. Fuck!” You muttered, seething through gritted teeth. The pain was quick to shoot through every nerve in your body.

Before you could lay back down, you met eyes with an all too familiar pair as they entered the doorframe.

Peter lit up when he saw you up, rushing over. “You’re awake!” He beamed, quick to set the blankets down at the foot of the bed before he kissed you. He kissed your lips, then your cheeks a few times, then your nose, before pressing a sickly sweet kiss to your lips once more.

His hands cradled your jaw before he pulled back from the kiss, moving his hands to better support you as you laid back down.

“Baby, don’t you ever scare me like that again, okay?” He started, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Peter–”

“God, you scared me so bad.. I thought–” He cut himself off as he rambled, quick to shut down the dreadful thought. “I wasn’t sure if you’d ever wake up again–”

“Peter–!”

“I should’ve been more careful.. Fuck, I’m so sorry I let that happen to you–”

You gently cupped his face, “Peter!” You spoke a bit more urgently, which seemed to catch his attention. He simply stared at you while you glanced over his right shoulder about four times.

His face flushed red, turning back to meet Natasha and Bruce’s dumbfounded expressions.

They blinked at one another, each unsure of where to start.

Natasha broke the silence, pressing herself off the wall she was leaning on with a small smirk. “I’m gonna go tell Steve that he owes me twenty–bucks.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something, but immediately shut it. He watched Bruce glance at the door Natasha walked out and back at Peter, “I’ll, uh.. Give you two some privacy.”

And then there were two.

His hands slid down his face as you contained your laughter, though it was hard not to. Watching your boyfriend’s face turn red was one of your few guilty pleasures.

“You couldn’t have warned me sooner?” Peter asked as he turned to you, muffling his words under the hands that covered his face. You weren’t sure how long you were out, but you knew you missed seeing how cute he was.

You missed seeing him.

You shrugged, “I tried to.” Despite the secret being out, you couldn’t care less. A small laugh spilled from your lips at how embarrassed Peter was, but it was cut off by how painful it was.

Peter sat on the bed beside you, grabbing your hand. “Easy, now.. It’s still pretty fresh.” He hushed, brushing some of your hair out of your face. His affectionate actions made your heart swell.

While the two of you stared at each other, you couldn’t help but see the solemn look that lingered in his eyes.

You brought the hand that wasn’t intertwined with his up to cup his cheek, gentle as you caressed the new purple creases under his eyes. “Peter..” You started, “I’m safe now. This wasn’t your fault either, okay?”

He looked like he was about to protest, but you were quick to him. “It’s not your fault.” You repeated. You hoped by saying it again, it would stick in his head better.

His stare flickered from one eye to the other before he sighed, defeated as he leaned his forehead against yours. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You smiled up at him, pecking his lips once or twice. “It’ll take a lot more to get rid of me than some shattered window.”

He laughed quietly, his breath fanning over your lips before he whispered, “God.. I love you.”

“I love you too..” You trailed off as he leaned forward to kiss you again. No matter how long you and Peter had been dating, you never failed to feel butterflies in your stomach when he’d kiss you. It made you feel like you were the only two people on the planet.

“I fucking knew it!” Of course, you weren’t the only two people in the world. You heard someone speak from the doorframe, noticing how Peter immediately added three feet of space between the two of you.

Tony Stark looked between both of you, pointing at your connected handhold on the hospital bed in victory. He had the smuggest smirk you’d ever seen touch his face at the sight of you.

His grin made him look like he’d won the fifth–grade spelling bee. You would’ve never thought that you and Peter’s relationship would make such a grown man so happy.

“I’m going to go tell Steve he owes me twenty–bucks!”

#🐚 .゜・ ˗ˏˋ ☾ ´ˎ˗ 𝕰𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝖂𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝕾𝐓𝐔𝐅𝐅.#🪷 .゜・ ˗ˏˋ ☾ ´ˎ˗ 𝕭𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐒.#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker #mcu #marvel #peter parker mcu #marvel imagines #imagine #x reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #tasm peter #peter parker blurb #fluff

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blooming-violets · 9 days

Note

private #5 bent over a table while somethings baking in the oven. is it too much to ask for tasm peter parker bending reader over?

[location based smut prompts]

The To-Do List

[tasm peter x fem!reader]

(reader is described as having a ponytail that is long enough for Peter to wrap around his hand and use as leverage)

His birthday cake was nestled happily inside the heated oven.

She got up early to make it for his special day. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail to keep out of her face while she had prepped and she was still in her pajamas from this morning. She had planned to have the cake in the oven, get her shower done, and place out his presents on the table all before he woke up.

Peter, of course, had other ideas.

He leaned against the kitchen doorway with a lopsided grin as he sleepily took in the sight of her. She paused when she saw him there, silent as ever, and crossed her arms.

“You are not supposed to be awake for another hour,” she chastised.

Thirty-five looked good on him. Every year he seemed to get more and more handsome.

His eye wrinkles grew as his smile widened. A strand of dark hair fell down his forehead and he absentmindedly brushed it away. He was shirtless with nothing but a pair of dark boxers to keep him decent.

She admired how defined his chest was. A hinting of his six pack was peeking out from just under the surface of his lean body.

“I smelled cake.” His voice was thick and scratchy with lingering sleep. Peter’s morning voice was one the sexiest sounds she’d ever heard.

She smiled as she rolled her eyes. It had hardly been in the oven for more than five minutes and it was already enough to get him out of bed.

“The kitchen is a mess. I was going to clean it all up and have your presents out and I was going to be all dressed up and looking extra cute. You ruined it all with your stupid nose.”

Peter laughed as he strode across the room to slip his arms around her waist. She looked up to admire him and wiped at a staining of toothpaste still clinging to the side of his lips. She caught it with her thumb and shoved it back into his mouth while he licked it off.

“You already look extra cute,” he mumbled around her thumb.

“I’m literally wearing your old, hole filled shirt and bright pink fluffy pants. This is not how I wanted you to see me this morning. It’s your birthday. I wanted it to be special.” She tugged her thumb back with a huff.

Peter stepped back to appreciate her outfit in the morning light. She had already been in bed by the time he crawled through their window last night.

“I like it,” he stated. “It’s hipster.”

She let out a laugh in response, “I don’t think you know what hipster means, babe.”

Peter shrugged, “It means you dress like a bum, right?”

“Oh my god, why don’t you go back to bed and try this again in an hour when everything is all set up, okay?”

“No,” he whined. He latched himself onto her back, snaking his arms tightly around her stomach to press her against him. “I’m up. It’s my birthday. Say happy birthday to me and tell me you love me.”

She grinned, snuggling back against his bare chest, “Happy birthday and I love you.”

“That sounded insincere but I will take it.” His hand slipped up under her loose shirt to cup a warm hand over her breast, lazily palming it while he nibbled at the edge of her ear. He always liked the feeling of her nipple coming to life and growing harder against his hand. He held onto her chest like one might cling to the safety of a favorite stuffed animal.

She groaned, “Your presents were supposed to be all set out nicely on the table. Instead you’re just greeted with a kitchen disaster of my cake baking. Are you sure you don’t want to sleep for another hour? I know you’re tired from last night. You were out late.”

Peter began to slowly waddle them back and forth towards the kitchen table, refusing to release his grip from around her waist or remove his hand from her breast, “I know of a present I can unwrap right here…”

She gasped under her breath, “Peter. This is no time. I’ve got a list of things to do.”

She felt him laugh quietly against her ear.

“Yeah and I’ve got a list of things to do, too. A whole list. Let’s see what the first thing to do is…” he pretended like he was reading off an imaginary piece of paper as he checked it over. “Ah, yes!”

He slipped his hands out from her shirt and placed a gentle hand between her shoulder blades to bend her over the kitchen table. With a quick swoop, he tugged down both her pants and underwear, leaving them hanging around her ankles. She let out a shocked cry.

“Unwrap presents…check!” He chuckled to himself, giving her bare ass a soft slap. “And what a beautiful present it is. Couldn’t have asked for anything better. Wow, you really know me, baby, I’m super impressed.”

“Peter,” she whined, pushing herself back up. “Not fair. I haven’t showered. I’ve got to get ready. I’ve-”

He cut her off with a kiss. His lips crashed against her and his tongue forced its way into her mouth to stop her from trying to protest further. She could taste the mint from his toothpaste still clinging to his tongue and she moaned as he pressed his hips into hers. He was growing harder by the second.

“Shut up,” he mumbled against her lips with a smile. “My birthday. My rules.”

“Okay,” she said with a dreamy sigh. It wasn’t hard to convince her. Her complaints were more for show than anything else. If Peter wanted her, he had her. “I love you, Pete.”

“If you love me so much then why don’t you take off that shirt so I can see my second present.”

She did as she was told, stripping it from her body, until she was standing naked before him. The bulge in his boxers twitched which made her smile. She loved the fact that she could make him so hard from sight alone.

Peter’s hand reached out to brush a calloused thumb across her hardened nipple, “Beautiful.”

He lifted her up onto the table so she was sitting closer to him and he moved between her legs. They wrapped around him so she could feel the heat of him soaking through his boxers and against her pussy. His eyes traveled down to her chest, taking in the sight, and sighing happily. His head dipped down so he could capture the waiting bud between his wet lips.

She let out a satisfied moan and ran her fingers through the back of his hair while suckled on her. His tongue bathed her breast, teeth nipping at her nipple, and soothing it over with quick kisses and light sucking motions. His mouth was magic. He didn’t even need to touch her pussy for her to already be soaking through his boxers as she ground against him.

“Feel that?” He groaned, bucking his hips. “Feel how hard I am?”

She whimpered.

“All for you,” he whispered, finding her lips once more to kiss her deeply.

All for her.

It was his birthday. She should probably be getting down on his knees for him and sucking him off or tending to him in some way but she was nothing but putty in his hands. Lost in the feeling of seduction he was casting over her.

Peter dragged her down off the table, smirking at the wet spot she had left behind, and spun her around. He folded her back in half over the table, scraping his nails down the length of her spine and over the swell of her ass.

“The next thing on my to-do list,” he breathed, his voice low and deep. “Is you.”

She heard him discarding his boxers and suddenly felt the wet, hot tip of cock slide up her open folds. She was more than ready for him. He never had to do much to have her begging for more. Her hips grinded against the air as if trying to draw him in closer but he only continued to tease her with the tip.

“Someone’s eager,” he commended, giving her ass another slap.

“Peter, please,” she gasped.

He kept up his tantalizing torture. Every time his cock bumped over her aching clit, her hips would jerk backwards, and she’d let out a quiet cry.

“Please what?” He asked with an air of innocence.

She groaned at his teasing, “Please fuck me! I want you to fuck me.”

“Aww,” he cooed. “Does my poor baby need my cock?”

She whined and nodded.

“You got up so early, didn’t you?” His nails dragged along her hips, making her squirm, as she humped frantically in an attempt to get at his cock. “You got up early to make my birthday so special. You baked me a cake. It smells amazing, doesn’t it? Smell it, baby.”

Her eyes widened in frustration, “Peter! Fuck me! Please, stop it.”

He ignored her pleas, getting off of them, as his cock twitched between her thighs, “Did you slip that cake into the oven just for me?”

She was nearly sobbing from her own arousal, ready to attack him if he didn’t shut up and fuck her soon. She arched her back to better entice him, wagging her ass and rubbing it against his hips. She pushed herself up with her arms so he could get a peeking view of her tits swaying in wait for him.

That seemed to do the trick because he had gone silent as he stared.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Happy birthday to me.”

“I want it hard, Peter. Use me,” she whispered in an effort to finally push him over the edge. “I’m yours.”

He lined up his cock to her entrance and eased himself inside. She nearly doubled over against the table at the delicious feeling that flooded through her body.

“Yes, yes, thank you, baby, thank you,” she cried.

“You really love this cock, don’t you?” He breathed. “Do you love this cock more than me?”

“No, baby, never. I could never-”

He pulled out and rammed the full, thick length back into her with a loud slap.

She shrieked, falling forward into a flurry of mumbled moans, “I do, I do, I do. I love it more than you. I love it more than anything.” Tears pricked in her eyes from the overwhelming sensations taking over.

Peter chuckled to himself, “That’s my girl.”

Her ass slapped against his body with each plunging drive of his cock as he took her. Fast and hard, just like she asked. Every thrust felt like it was reverberating through her, waking up all her senses, making her feel more alive than ever before. It was sheer bliss. Anticipation already began to build. He knew exactly how hard to take her. Peter could be rough but he never went past her limits. He knew her inside and out. He knew just where to push her before retreating back to safety. The sounds of her tumbling moans and each inhale of breath was all he needed to direct his path.

He was filling her body, stretching her, taking her, building her up to that beautiful place of divinity. Her nails clawed at the table, scratching at the wood, trying to find some kind of purchase to steady herself with.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Peter!” She cried.

“That’s it, baby,” he panted. “I got you. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

He wrapped her ponytail around his hand and jerked her head upwards. She arched her back to accommodate the move as he held her against him. She could feel his ragged breaths against her cheek and listened to his erotic panting in her ear. The sound was enough to almost send her flying straight into an orgasm.

The hand not keeping a tight hold of her ponytail wrapped around her to grab at her chest. He molded her breast between strong hands.

She loved taking his cock. Loved it so deep. Thrusting. Hard. Stretching her. Forcing her to take him. Peter was thick. Thickest man she had ever been with. He pushed her walls to their max. His beautiful body and the sounds he made when he fucked her where like heaven to her ears.

That familiar, sensual pressure began to grow inside of her with shallow waves lapping at the edges of her mind. Soon they would turn into giant swells. Taking her over until it was all she could feel.

His hand slipped from her ponytail to wrap around her neck. He gave a gentle squeeze. Nothing too forceful but enough to send her flying even faster towards that tsunami of pleasure. She was so close. So ready.

“Harder, Peter,” she sobbed. “Hard. Please. I’m-I’m…close…need it hard. Take me.”

Peter was never to deny a request like that. He shoved her back over the table and tumbled on top of her, humping frantically with long, heavy strokes into her cunt. He could feel her walls tightening. He could feel her body changing.

“Come on, baby,” he urged her. “Cum on my cock. Cum for me. Let me feel you.”

The universe exploded into blinding light.

She didn’t care how loud she was. Didn’t care if the neighbors would hear. In fact, she wanted them to. She wanted them to know exactly how well Peter Parker could fuck his woman.

Her toes curled and her legs kicked up as the sensory overload rocketed through her with golden waves of pure dopamine.

Peter took her straight to the edge and held her there, spasming and sobbing, as he continued to fuck her through the orgasm. Even as the waves slowly receded, they still lingered in tiny aftershocks, due to his relentless pounding. He had gotten her where she needed to be and now it was his turn.

He reangled himself into her, getting a better grip as he held onto her hips, and switched up his rhythm to slow. Peter liked to feel everything. He wanted to drag it out and feel her body wrapped around him. From fast and hard to slow and steady. His change of pace caused a low, drawn out moan to escape from her throat.

“You like that, baby?” He panted. “You like feeling every inch of me?”

All she could do was whimper in response as her sex spasmed again around him. This was a man who knew how to lengthen an orgasm. She was completely helpless to him. Her body was his play thing.

“Let me hear how much you love me, baby,” he whispered down in her ear as his cock buried straight to the hilt inside of her. “Let me hear you.”

She struggled to make any noise besides sobbing whimpers and broken cries.

He moaned in response, “That’s it. Those are those sounds that I love so much. My poor baby, all ravaged on my cock. Can’t even speak.”

He gave a small shudder and she knew he was close. She did her best to work her hips to meet his thrusts, squeezing him with her walls, sucking him in, clenching down.

“That’s good, baby, that’s good.” He moaned, his voice slowly losing itself as he got closer to the edge. “Ooh, fuck, keep that up. ‘M gon’na cum inside ya’kay?”

She loved it when he filled her. She loved feeling him drip down her leg as she carried him around with her. She would bathe in his semen if he wished it. It was his birthday, after all. The birthday boy could come wherever he pleased.

His long, slow strokes worked her up as another, tiny orgasm rippled through her. That seemed to be all he needed to follow.

Peter let out a low groan, his thrusts become more unrestrained with each passing second, and she took him. All of him.

With the sweetest of cries, he emptied himself inside of her. She could feel him swell and pulse until she was impossibly full. That tiny orgasm grew into something much bigger, taking over her body along with him, as she felt him collapse on top of her, both shaking, as he bit at her shoulders with soft, love bites until he finally calmed down.

He stayed like that, laid against her back and squishing her into the table, until he cock began to soften and he sadly slid back out. She tumbled back into his arms as they both fell to the spooning position against the kitchen floor. Naked, wet, and breathing heavily.

Peter’s hand found the comfort of her breast once more.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Best present I could ask for. Thank you, baby. You’re too good to me.”

She grunted in response, still finding words to fail her. Instead, she rolled over in his arms, hooking her leg through his, and leaving a trail of kisses across his face to show much she adored him.

His eyes closed as he smiled happily at the feeling.

Eventually she would have to get up. Eventually she would have to shower and get dressed and clean the kitchen and set up his presents and frost the cake…but for now…

For now she was happy to just lay here on the floor in his arms.

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bitchyycapricorn · 1 year

Text

Brooklyn Bridge

Peter Parker x Reader

Masterlist Word Count: 1.3k Synopsis: Peter faces one problem constantly: Aunt May knocking on the door at the absolute worst times. Fed up, Peter decides to simply show you off to the public.

Quote: “Good God, look at you you’re doing such a good job.” Warnings: Smut, public sex, praise kink, usage of slut, language, P in V AN: Obviously with my highlighted quote TikTok has reminded me how much of a praise kink I have. Not edited.

“Oh fuck babe, I’ve missed you so much,” You groan as Peter thrusts into you. Your whole body is on fire at the feeling of Peters lips leaving small kisses on the side of your neck as he pounds into you mercilessly.

“God, “Y/N, you feel so fucking good.” Peter groans as his hand wanders up and down your side, taking in every inch of your body. Peter continues to plant small kiss along your jawline before stopping abruptly at the sound of a knock on his door.

“Peter?” May calls from the other side of the door. “Peter open the door!” Peter groans as he pulls out of you, leaving your body aching for his touch.

“You have to get in the closet,” Peter whispers harshly under his breath, “quick grab your cloths.” You find yourself stumbling out of his bed, scrambling while you pick your discarded cloths up from the ground before making a beeline to Peter’s closet. Even though you now couldn’t see Peter, you could hear him fumbling around while trying to get his cloths on before unlocking the door for May.

“Why do you always keep that door locked Peter?” May stammers as Peter shifts uncomfortably.

“I was trying to get to bed.” He replies slowly, “also I like the privacy.” He admits sheepishly.

May stares up at him for a moment before letting out a sigh. “Yes, alright, well I’m going to bed. I came to tell you goodnight and if you need me make sure it’s an emergency.” Peter nods before giving May a hug and sending her on her way, making sure to tell her goodnight as well.

Peter shut the door, letting out a small groan before or opening up the closet to reveal a disheveled Y/N. You let a smile spread across your lips as you stumble out of Peter’s messy closet. “Well then,” you hum, “Is the mood ruined or…”

“Ruined? What do you think?” Peter mumbles. “Everyone in the world wants to watch us have sex I swear. Constantly needing us, constantly knocking on the door. Might as well just have public sex at this point so people can ask questions without any barriers.”

You let out a small laugh, running your fingers up Peter’s arm. “Public sex huh? Well, maybe let’s keep it tame and go ahead and finish in your bed since May is now asleep.” You suggest, trying to pull Peter with you.

“No.” Peter replies, a smirk forming on his previously solemn face. “Get dressed, we’re going out.”

“Going out? It’s almost 11 at night…” You hesitate as you slip on your pajama shorts and tank top, followed by your jacket.

“Don’t you trust me love?” Peter asks sweetly causing your stomach to erupt with butterflies.

“Of course I trust you,”

+++

“I do NOT trust you!” You shriek as Peter lands on top of the main upper platform on the Brooklyn Bridge. You look down at the cars zooming by below you, feeling your heart drop. “Why the hell are we on the Brooklyn bridge?” You cry, clinging onto Peters warm body.

“Since everyone wants to watch us have sex so bad, thought I’d give them a show.” Peter declares.

“You-You what?” You stammer feeling your cheeks heat up as you stare into your boyfriends masked eyes.

“Hold on to the rail baby,” Peter encourages as he flips you around so your frontside is pressed against the metal railing and you’re staring down at the cars and water below.

“P-peter,” You stutter feeling his cold hand slowly snaking between your spread thighs in order to push your shorts and underwear to the side. His fingers dance across your bare cunt, spreading your wetness in the process.

“Look at my pretty girl, all bent over for me like a little slut.” Peter purrs “Such a good girl aren’t you.” You could now feel his finger slowly entering you, dipping deep into your soaking core.

“Fu-fuck Peter, what if someone sees?” You sputter as your walls close around his slender finger.

His mask brushes against your ear as he whispers “That’s why we’re up her baby, so everyone can watch me fuck you like a slut.” You let out a gasp as his digits thrust in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. “Mmm you like that don’t you?”

You let out a small moan in response, squeezing the railing as his fingers speed up. “Oh god Peter I’m close,” you cry at the feeling of his thumb now toying with your clit.

“Are you now?” Peter hums, smacking your ass as his fingers continue to violently thrust in and out of your heat. “Well then, if you’re so close, cum for me baby. Cum all over my fingers like a good girl.” He praises.

Throwing your head back onto his shoulder you allow your body to let go, convulsing as your orgasm washes over your whole body.

“Good girl,” Peter groans, slowly pulling his soaking fingers out of you. Your hands continue to squeeze the railing while you desperately try and catch your breath. Behind you you could hear Peter unzipping his jeans, shuffling as he removes his hard dick from its restraints. “Ready pretty girl?” Peter grunts as he lines himself up behind you. You nod, forgetting about the cars below you entirely.

Peter helps to bend you over slightly more, before grabbing yours hips and sliding into you with ease. “Oh fuck,” Peter moans as he bottoms out. “You feel so fucking good baby.” Peter slowly pulls out of you before pushing back in repeatedly. Your legs began to shake as Peter speeds up his movement, pushing deeper into you each time.

Small moans and cries escape your lips as you’re thrusted against the metal railing repeatedly. “Peter fuck” you cry. “God, oh, Peter.” Your whimpers fill the air as Peter drills into you without mercy, enjoying the feeling of your clenched cunt squeezing his throbbing cock.

“Good god, look at you you’re doing such a good job.” Peter praises, hands gripping your ass roughly. Your legs were shaking as Peter hammers into you from behind. Each thrust feeling deeper than the last, pushing you closer to your second orgasm. “Such a pretty little slut. Taking my cock so good in front of everyone.” Peters voice and hands felt hypnotic. The way he’s roughly grabbing your hips as he guides your body up and down his thick cock with every thrust.

“Peter-“ you moan, never wanting Peter to stop. “K-keep going please,” you whine.

Peter lets out a grunt, feeling himself getting closer to the edge. Your body capturing his attention as it knocks against the railing the deeper he pushes into you. “Shit-“ Peter mutters as his orgasm begins to creep up even more. “I’m close.”

You let out another string of moans knowing you’re close as well. You feel as one of Peters hands snakes around your front side, slowly rubbing your clit and adding to the pleasure. Throwing your head back you can feel your muscles begging to contract as a wave of adrenaline and pleasure washes over you. “Fuck Peter,” you groan as you finish around his cock.

Letting out a loud moan Peter releases inside of you, overwhelmed by the feeling of you squeezing around him as you ride out the last of your own orgasm.

Peter slowly pulls out and you can feel the hot cum slowly running down your bare thighs. Your body still shaking from the events just moments ago.

“You alright baby?” Peter whispers as his arms wrap around your disheveled figure. Planting soft kisses to your shoulder as he rubs your upper arms.

“I’m good, that was, that was amazing,” you reply, leaning back into his warm body.

“Good, I’m glad you enjoyed it as much as I did. Now let’s get you home and cleaned up hm?” He hums, turning you around so you’re facing him. You nod, allowing Peter to embrace you once more.

You look around at your surroundings for a moment, admiring the beauty of the city from so high up. “Hey Peter,” you whisper, “how many people do you think recorded us?”

Peter let out a small laugh before realizing you were right. “Oh fu-“

+++

TAGLIST @noakrootje

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reysdriver · 7 months

Text

Bondage | P.P.

Day 2 of Kinktober: Bondage — peter x fem!reader smut

warnings: 18+, Minors DNI - smut, inappropriate use of Spider-Man webs, fingering, oral (female receiving), mentions of hair pulling

words: 0.6k

“Is that too tight?” Peter asked you from across the room, from where he had just webbed your hands to the top of your bed frame.

“No.” You responded honestly. “It’s perfect.”

He started making his way over to the bed, then paused once he sat next to you. “So you’re sure?”

You sighed. “Of course.”

“And you remember what to do if you want me to stop?”

“Yes, Peter.” You sounded exasperated, because you were. Peter’s always been too nice for his own good, it was why he became Spider-Man. But now, his big heart was getting in the way of your sexual experimentation and it was tiring.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I just worry a lot. I love you.”

“I know you do, that’s why I want to do this with you.”

You both smiled at each other, and he dove in to kiss you. He did it slowly and sweetly, which you knew was because he didn’t want to be too rough with you. That would change with enough convincing, but you just kissed him back the same for now.

As you two kept making out, Peter’s hands moved farther and farther down your sundress. Even though you had been planning this for a few nights, you were just in normal clothes because despite Peter being a genius at most things, you didn’t quite trust him to figure out lingerie with your hands tied up.

As his fingers reached the hem of your dress, he hooked his fingers around the sides of your underwear. Then, he pulled his lips off of yours and looked up at you.

“Still ready?” He asked.

You nodded. “I mean, I don’t know how I’ll fare without being able to pull on your hair, but…”

“Well, you could replace the hair pulling with something else. Maybe you could be as loud as you want now that I don’t live with Aunt May anymore.”

You smirked as he pulled your panties off of you. “I think I will try that.”

He slowly slid his middle finger over your slit. “You’re already wet.” He commented.

“For you? Always.”

He smiled, then leaned down again to press a little kiss to your clit. It started out short and sweet, then he kept going, heated and sloppy. You let out a moan, which encouraged him to keep going. His mouth movements kept getting more intense, and your breaths got heavier.

With enough reaction from you, Peter made the moment ever spicier by fitting a slender finger inside of you.

You made another sound, the lewdness of which rivalled only by the sound Peter’s finger made when pumping his finger inside of you. He added another, and it just felt even better.

“You’re still doing okay, babe?” He asked to confirm.

“So good, Pete.” You replied breathily. “I’m almost there.”

He smiled, then brought his mouth back to your heat to guide you to your climax. He kept going in the way he knew was your favourite, and even though you couldn’t tug on his brown hair like you usually did, you motivated him by moaning as loudly as you could without your neighbours hearing.

And there it was, you felt yourself release around his fingers. You let out a string of whimpers as Peter kept softly kissing your core.

“Did you like that?” He asked quietly, moving his face out from between your legs.

“Yeah. Did you?”

“I still like when you pull on my hair when we do that.”

#xena's kinktober celebration #kinktober #peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker smut #peter parker smut #spiderman #spiderman smut #marvel #tasm peter #marvel smut

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reverieblondie · 30 days

Text

Neighbors

Chapter 4: Via the Window

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Eludes to voyeurism kink but nothing explicit.

Summary: It's time you thank Spider-Man properly...

A/N: I hope you enjoy the update! Hoping to get these out more frequently!

Word Count: 2,392

‘If I shut my blinds you won’t know where to come get your thank you.’

‘Thank me how’?

‘Come by Monday night and find out?’

‘I will swing by then’

Your Sunday has been spent in two ways. One you had taken the time to get ready for your first week of school. Write out your schedule and figure out what buildings your classes would be in. Best to prepare for your first day to eliminate any surprises that could occur. Two, and far more nerve-wracking; you kept talking with Spider-Man through notes via your window. At the time leaving notes and checking every few hours for a new message from your pen pal was an exciting experience. It was a thrill to get a new message when you weren't even able to catch a glimpse of him! How could he even be that sneaky?

Well now it’s Monday and you're having to reflect on your messages…

You said you wanted to thank him, but now that it's Monday you find yourself playing with the last note he left you. You're still trying to wrack your brain for ideas, but you can’t sit and stir forever. You have a big day ahead! As you're getting ready to leave for school you're double, triple checking that you have your things and that you look decent. Going from the living room to your bedroom, back to the living room to the bathroom like a madman. Once you scramble into the kitchen to make a bottle of water, it clicks. Turning towards your admittedly out-of-date oven the brilliant idea hits, cookies!

Who doesn’t like cookies? Maybe it's a bit old-fashioned or maybe he doesn’t like sweets, but it's the thought that counts right? Just a nice thankful gesture right? Well, there are other thankful gestures you could do for him…But you quickly shake away the thought, you don’t even really know him best not to cross any boundaries; not yet at least.

Getting your mind off of…activities you check your phone and see that you need to leave, don’t want to risk being late on your first day. Doing one last run you check yourself and your things. Before you exit your apartment you find yourself going to your window on pure impose, checking it one last time before you leave. A part of you wishes you would see him swinging by like he's checking on you but you know you won’t catch him.

Walking out of your apartment you look over to Peter's apartment. You haven’t seen him since your moment together in the laundry room. Admittedly you take your time locking your door for the off chance Peter would be leaving his apartment at the same time as you. Though you quickly come to find that your day is not going to start with seeing a brave hero or your annoyingly cute neighbor, that's not going to be a damper on your day. Walking to school making sure to stay out of the bike lane you open your phone and start looking up cookie recipes.

As expected the first day of classes was nothing more than a lot of info dumping about the class and all the materials needed to be successful in the class. Yes, it is easy to just sit and listen but that doesn’t mean it's any less tiring to have to go through. Taking a stretch you feel your muscles stretch and hear your bones softly popping. Just have to go to the store then you can get your little thank you gift for spidy going. The thought of seeing him leaves a giddy feeling to swell in your stomach. But that is soon interrupted when you see a familiar face walking past.

Well, well if it isn't your odd neighbor, of course he didn’t mention you two go to the same university, typical…

“Peter!”, you call out

In an instant, he's stopping and turning to meet your eyes with a somewhat surprised look on his face, though there is a slight hint of a smile on the corners of his lips. You quickly approach him making your way past the swarm of other exhausted college students.

“You know this is starting to get a bit frequent, first the elevator, then the laundry room, now here. Are you following me?” He teases with an annoyingly adorable smile.

“Yeah, if I’m going to stalk anyone it would be a celebrity, not my random neighbor.”

“You would stalk someone? Bad girl…”

The teasing nickname sends a rush over your spine but you must resist, he's insufferable…and adorable…dammit.

Ignoring the comment you kept the conversation moving, “You know most people mention if they go to the same school as someone else they know.”

He shrugs, “True, but that kills the fun of you having to figure it out.”

“Oh, so fun Pete”

“You're welcome. Are you done for the day?”

“Yeah, I was heading home, well going to go to the store then home.”

Peter smiles as he adjusts his backpack, “I was also heading home, you want some company for the trip?” - Well isn't this a friendly change?

“Sure.”

Now you have eggs and sugar, but chocolate chips, flour, brown sugar, and vanilla extract you need to buy. Just to find them is the issue, this store Peter took you to is different from the one you have started to get accustomed to. Peters runs off to grab something, leaving you to wander down the aisles by yourself, so much for his company...

As you browse down the aisle something catches your eye and it's staring in your direction. Two men seem to be whispering and glancing in your direction. You turn to see if they are looking behind you but nothing seems to be odd enough to catch any attention. Facing them again you see they have slid closer and you're starting to feel nervous that it may be you that is catching their attention, but why?

Is there something on your face? Are they staring at your basket? Are you doing something wrong? You're starting to become uneasy as you do your best to just ignore them. They are whispering amongst themselves and you just keep your eyes forward, just ignore them, and let them walk past you.

As the men start to walk in your direction a sudden warmth then wraps around you for a second you're frightened but as you look to see who has their arm wrapped around you you see Peter's striking profile.

“There you are, did you find all the ingredients?”

You look at him confused and he just winks before holding you tighter, sliding his hands to hold you in a hug as his chin rests on your shoulder. The feeling sends a rush down your spine. It's all so quick and confusing, why is he holding you? Did he see you were nervous? Turning you see Peter staring at the two men who had been approaching you up. But now seeing that Peter is with you they quickly scurry away.

Once they are gone Peter's warmth leaves you and there is a zipping of your bag and things start to click.

With a smirk, Peter ruffles your hair and you glare at him.

“You need to pay attention before you get pickpocketed.”

Swatting away his hands he smiles before grabbing your basket and heading towards the register. You bite back a smile and take a second to fix your hair before following him.

“You know I could have carried my bags”

“No, no, it's fine. If my aunt May found out I walked home with someone without helping with the groceries I might just get disowned.”

“Oh? Is that where you learned to be so chivalrous?” you say mockingly as you unlock your door.

After a little effort with the old lock, you get the door open and gesture for Peter to step in. As he steps inside and you see him looking around you realize he's the first guest you have had in your apartment. Taking the groceries from him you start putting away things you don’t need and taking out the things you do.

“You keep staring around at the place, are you not impressed by my decorating skills?”

“Actually smarty pants, I am impressed, might need you to come over and help me with my place. You even managed to get the mildew smell out.”

You smile then turn on your oven with a turn to the old dial, “I charge by the hour and am very bossy. I will warn you”

Peter's eyes flash with mischief, “I wouldn't mind that…”

Folding your arms over your chest you look at him confused, is he flirting? Peter's confidence starts to falter as he rubs the back of his neck trying to ignore the budding tension in the small kitchen. Looking at your counter he sees all the ingredients out.

“Making something?” -smooth change the subject

“I am, just some cookies for a…Friend?” that is technically what you are doing…but can you call Spider-man a friend? You two are friendly but friends? Before you can get wrapped up in thought Peter is speaking up.

“Friend? Judging from how you say it, I assume you two are very close.”

Start to take out your measuring cups and recipe. You roll your eyes at him, “He's a new friend, well acquaintance…”

Peter eyes your hands as you start to place everything down. His eyes on you are starting to make you slightly nervous…but in a good way…where it feels like a rush, “I'm an acquaintance and neighbor.”

“Well, he helped me with something.”

“Um, I carried your groceries and took care of a spider for you.”

“I thought you were carrying my groceries so you wouldn't be disowned, and if I recall you called me dramatic about the spider.”

Peter thinks for a moment before snapping his fingers, “Playful banter between friends.”

Wow, he wants cookies. Letting out a sigh you look at his smirking face trying not to smile. “Do you like chocolate chip?”

“That's my favorite.” -of course it is…

Peter then gives you one more smile before grabbing his bag to leave. “Well, I will leave you to it. Thank you.”

“Oh get cookies then leave?”

“I have a deadline, unfortunately, those spider-man pictures won’t edit themselves”

The mention of the hero's name causes you to perk up, as Peter is heading towards the door you muster up the courage to ask him about it. “Do you think maybe I could see some of your pictures sometime?”

Peter adjusted his bag on his shoulder opening the door, “Bring the cookies and you can look through all my photos. Later.”

Carefully you tie a neat blue bow on the bag to make sure it stays closed. Finally, you got the cookies done and to your credit, they are probably the best cookies you have ever made. Thank you internet for all the baking tips!

Looking out the window you see it is very late and it's time to get ready for bed after all your hard work. Stepping into your room you go to shut the curtains so you can get changed, but as you go to shut the curtains you have a stray thought…what if he's watching out there…swallowing your dry throat you keep the curtain open and turn your back to your window. He said he would be by later… it's later…

With trembling hands, you lift your shirt over your head dropping it to the floor as you shake your hair out.

Is he out there…

Sliding your hands down your body you start undoing your pants slowly, your body feels hot and you can feel your face flushing to a bright red as you strip down to your underwear, closing your eyes you go to slide down your panties.

The thought of his gloved hands roaming across your skin, the feeling of his weight and warmth pushed against you, stomach tying into knots and with a deep breath you open your eyes looking over your shoulder, and you see…

Nothing…

Whipping your hand down your face you quickly grab your pajamas and put them on. What were you doing stripping like he would be watching…Ugh, that is so embarrassing! You don’t know him and here you are getting horny like a fangirl, get a grip on yourself! You need to start meeting more people so you stop fantasizing about superheroes… maybe Peter has friends…or maybe Peter…

No! Not crossing that line, he's the only person you know in this city you can’t go mucking that up! No way! Off limits!

Walking to the kitchen you look at the two bags of cookies, Peters you will drop off tomorrow. A smile stretches to your lips, you two have become something akin to friends. It's a relief to have him not hate your guts still snarky though…but funny. Maybe you will run into him at school again…

Turning to the other back you feel your heart race increase, Spidys cookies… You hope that he enjoys these. There is the chance he might find this as a lame gift, you can only imagine what kinds of gifts he receives after saving people. Have others made him treats? Giving him money? Presents? Something else…would he want that…You swallow your dry throat and quickly write a note attaching it to the bag to keep your mind busy.

Do spiders enjoy sweets? - you include a doodle of a spider seemingly eating a cookie.

Hopefully, he likes them and isn’t disappointed by the thank you.

Walking over and opening the window there is a slight breeze that sends a chill through you. You wish you could leave the window open tonight to enjoy the breeze but you know better. Placing the bag of treats on the window seal you adjust the note and the bow so they look perfectly placed. Once set you look out into the glimmering lights of the city taking in the breeze, the sights, the noises, but that's when you hear a clearing of a throat. Looking up you see that iconic mask, body clinging to the wall as he looks down at you.

“You have a thank you for me?” his voice coos

You forget all about your cookies…

Tags:

@huesdreamhouse @keiva1000 @spdrwdw @betizda @lunablackcosplay @juliluvhz @avareadsthings @xxrougefangxx @briviny @llpovi @beautyb1ade @lulawantmula @kikieatshomophobes

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madwcman · 22 days

Note

hear me out hear me out… peter parker x sunshiney!reader

shes just a girl who will always take the lighter option, always listening to abba, a constant grin on her face

a girl who thrives when the weather climbs above 55 degrees farenheit and breaks out her tanning lotions and beach towels, and lives to wear flowy outfits

if its not too much maybe a little something like that?? i feel like theyd be perfect together 🙏🏻🙏🏻🫶🏻

a/n: i’m so hearing you out!! thanks for requesting!! i hope you enjoy <3

pairing: tasm! peter x sunshine! reader

you’re currently laughing as your gripping peters hand as you both walk on the side walk. peter loves the spring and summer. well, not really but he loves that you love the spring and summer. you thrive during the warmer seasons. in fact peter thinks you actually glow when the weather gets warmer.

you always seem to have a smile on your face, but it’s wider and brighter when you’re outside, hanging out with peter. he would like to think you’d agree with him on this. he would love to think he knows you as much as he knows himself.

“pete we should have a picnic!” you smile brightly, breaking peter out of his trance of you. he turns to you and smiles. “we definitely should, let’s go back to the apartment to grab some things.” you both head back to your shared apartment.

as soon as you walk into the apartment you zoom to your kitchen, peter watches as you quickly grab a chair just for you to climb on it to reach the top of your cabinets, where your picnic basket is located. grabbing the basket you climb down and put it on the counter.

“what should we pack?” you turn to peter, opening the basket. “sandwiches, fruit, chips and maybe some water bottles.” you nod as you move around your kitchen, peter joining you to help prepare the food.

you make sandwiches as peter helps cut up fruit and puts them into plastic containers, you both grab a couple small bags of chips and a couple of water bottles for yourselves. peter quickly puts everything into the basket and holds it for you as you both make it out of the apartment.

“could we go to a park?” you ask peter as you turn to look at him, with such a lovely smile. peter thinks he could faint if you smile at him like that again.

“we can go anywhere you want, sweetheart.” peter kisses your cheek, grabbing your hand in his free one, dragging you out the apartment building. he smiles to himself as he hears your lovely laugh.

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reidslovely · 9 months

Note

Something about helping frat!blonde! Peter touch up his roots. Like he calls you and reader must think its for hooking up purposes - then he surprises her w “can you. uh..retouchmyrootsplease” and she’s like “??? 🤨wat” and you just go over to his place and spend time with him, washing his hairr, he making eye contact with reader through the mirror, etc. But he’s still stubborn about his feelings so he’s like “this was a one time thing only don’t let it get to ya head”

sorry if this was jumbled I just had this in my head for a while now

Yes this idea is so so so so so cute. I have written something vaguely similar before but I love it so much I don't care to write it again

please reblog or comment in place of liking/hearting this post 🫶🏼

“Pete?” You questioned picking up your phone, your eyes locked on the clock that read 4:00pm. “It’s far too early for a booty call..what’s up pretty?”

“Ya flatter bashful.” His chesty laugh could be heard on the other end of the phone. It sent your heart doubling in speed, your cheek pressed lovingly into your shoulder.

“You still with me bashful? I need you to do me a favor.”

“So this is a hookup call..you only ask me that if-” You're cut off by him rushing out a string of words. None of which you caught. “Pete..baby. I need you to breathe and say that again.” You laughed softly, already gathering your stuff up to head over to the Theta Tau. Regardless if this was a hookup situation or not you were tired of your homework and Peter always seems to take any type of stress away.

“Can you uh..” There's an awkward cough and sigh. “Retouchmyrootsplease?”

The questions still came out as one word this time around but at least you actually caught what he was saying.

“Sure, Pete.” You tried not to laugh. “Do you have what you need or do we need to run by Sally?”

“No, no I have everything here for you. Thanks for this.”

“Course Pete, anything for you.” You hung up before you could get any type of snarky reply.

Peter’s blond locks were a new addition about three weeks into your situation ship and you absolutely loved them. They flattered his face, and made his little baby deer eyes even more baby deer like. Which made you want to kiss him even more, and made it hard to say no when he’s asking you for another round.

“You’re literally the best for this. Just moved up to like number two in my ranking.”

It was a joke, you were easily number one if not the only girl in Peter’s ranking but you have to play along or else you’ll scare him away.

“Offended, whose number one.”

“May..sorry.” Peter sighs dramatically, leading you up the stairs to his bathroom. Tossing a few nods and hey’s to his brothers walking down the steps.

“Mhm can’t be mad at that.”

Peter laughed sitting on the chair he’d tucked away in the bathroom, pulling off his shirt.

“Awe did you go ahead and set everything up for me?”

“No I was gonna do it myself but that's how we ended up in this scenario in the first place.”

Peter would never admit to it but he had set everything up for you. He’d done it before he even picked up the phone: not that he knew you'd say yes but he could hope.

“Mhm I see.” You hummed running your fingers through Peter’s hair. He grabbed his phone starting his music, looking at you in the mirror as you started sectioning his hair out.

Admittedly the whole time he was locked on you. Every move you made he was locked on you, not wanting to miss a moment. His head lolled back as you ran; you painted the bleach on his roots. Earning soft little ‘stops’ and ‘hold your head up’ from you as he relaxed. Your eyes were fixed on his hair making sure you’re applying everything evenly and correctly. Peter held his phone up in the mirror snapping a quick photo of the two of you. The photo falling amongst the others he’s sneakily taken of you or the both of you that you had no clue about.

“Okay you gotta sit for a while and then I’ll wash it, tone it, all that after.” You said sitting on the toilet lid next to him taking the gloves off, tossing them in the trash can.

“This is nice.”

Peter's comment threw you off, you two only really hung out in the context of having sex or it being mutually beneficial for both. You hated to admit you had more moments like this.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm no pressure, at least not for you. I still gotta make jokes and keep you entertained.”

“Tragic.” You tsked resting your arm on the sink hand to head as your free hand started a 30 minute timer.

“Come on, we have enough time to watch some of that Hulu cooking show you like.” Peter stood taking your hand in his walking to his room. You flopped down on Pete’s bed watching him sitting next to you. “Careful you’ll get bleach on your..”

“No no, I'm good sitting up.”

You nodded and laid your head on his lap watching The Bear, Pete’s fingers combing through your hair switching between watching the TV and you.

Pete’s head was tilted back in the sink, a towel under his neck for comfort. “Stop looking down my shirt, Parker.”

“I’m not…I’m not.” He lied, turning his eyes up to look at you as you shampooed after toning his hair. “Do I look fabulous?”

“Oh absolutely.” You laughed wrapping his hair up in a towel helping him sit up. Ruffling the towel through his hair you laughed watching it sticking up every which way. You blow dried it for him smiling and singing under your breath as you fixed his hair perfectly.

“How do you feel Parker?”

“Amazing..I look great thanks bashful.” He says turning around, capturing your hips in his hands. “Let's get dinner, and then we can come back here.”

“I hate sex after dinner.”

“No, no we come back here and finish the show.”

“Oh I get to come back to the Theta house? And not have sex?” You fake a gasp of shock.

“I know it’s a rare occurrence. This is a one time thing though, don’t let it get to ya head.” Pete taunts, hand rubbing your side grabbing his wallet off his dresser.

“Oh baby it has.”

Peter knew and even in his playful disdain and stubborn personality you were slowly craving a spot out in his chest and making a home in it, and at this point he had no say in it.

___________

tags: @helloheyhihowdyheya @sincericida @moonyslove78 @a-lumos-in-the-nox @messymissy @adhdhufflepuff @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @ateliefloresdaprimavera @eevylynn

#tasm peter parker x reader #tasm andrew garfield #tasm!peter imagine #tasm peter parker #bambi writes #tasm fanfiction #tasm peter #tasm peter smut #tasm peter x you #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter parker imagine #tasm peter imagines #tasm peter fluff #andrew peter parker #tasm peter parker smut #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #frat!peter

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meganslife · 4 months

Text

Party Animal - P.P. x Reader

Frat!peter parker x fem!reader

summary: you see your ex at a frat party, and to avoid him wanting to talk to you, you act like you’re dating the closest guy— who just so happens to play along.

A/N: i’m on my frat peter agenda 😈

A frat party was the last thing on your mind.

Your roommate, Gwen, insisted that you go with her.

“C’mon, Y/N,” She said, “You and Flash broke up a while ago. It’s time to get back in the game!”

You and Flash did break up a month ago, yet he was still calling you every day and begging to get back together. You never let him get under your skin. College has also been stressing you out lately… maybe a party was exactly what you needed to let loose. Or find someone new.

You put on a simple outfit. Just some jeans and a tube top, and then you and Gwen were off to the party.

The house was surprisingly close, only a couple blocks away from your apartment. It was a little risky walking to a party as two women, but you knew that Gwen was strong, and so were you.

“It smells in here,” Gwen laughs, opening the door for you.

You dart to the kitchen before Gwen can even see where you’re going. You just need something to drink. Something to make all of the stress fall off your shoulders.

When you emerge from digging in the fridge for alcohol, Flash is right beside you, staring.

You look at him for a moment, before scoffing and walking away as fast as you can.

He follows close behind, and you know that.

Someone in the living room has to be fair game. Someone to pretend you’re with so Flash will get off your ass. The first person you see is a guy sitting on the couch, legs spread slightly while talking to another guy. He looks at you, and watches as you approach him.

You sit in his lap, hoping you don’t look too awkward, and that Flash sees.

“Do I know you?” The boy grins, his hand sliding across your hip.

You gulp. “I-I’m Y/N.”

“Hi, Y/N. You’re super pretty, but what are you doing in my lap?”

“I’m trying to get Flash off my ass,” You whisper into his ear. “He won’t leave me alone about getting together again. I just need him to leave me alone.”

He laughs, squeezing your hips like he’s done it a million times. “I see…”

“I told you my name. What’s yours?”

“Peter. Peter Parker,” He smiles, “I’m in the frat.”

You smile, “Okay, Peter, how many girls have you kissed tonight?”

“None. I usually don’t,” Peter smirks, looking down at your lips, “Why do you ask?”

Your hands cup his cheeks, and you nearly forget why you’re in Peter’s lap.

“Kiss me?” You ask.

Peter grins, “I usually take girls out first before I kiss them.”

“Shut up,” You laugh, “If you want to take me out then say it.”

“Am I that transparent?”

You scoff, leaning forward and kissing Peter. He kissed back like he’d been craving this.

“No, but seriously,” He murmurs between kisses, “Can I take you out?”

“Later,” you mumble, kissing down his neck.

Peter laughs, “You’re trouble.”

#peter parker #tasm peter #peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #spider man: across the spider verse #peter parker smut #writing #ao3 #art #poetry #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #literature #writers on tumblr #poem #writers and poets

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spiderfunkz · 4 months

Text

thinking about peter parker whos girlfriend is a total book nerd . . . where he'd always take you on dates to the bookstore and insists on buying you a new book. where he'd follow you around the store like a lost puppy while you run around trying to find the book you want.

peter parker who'd always be there to comfort you when your favorite character meets their end, where he would say, "maybe they'll get resurrected in the next book, who knows?" while awkwardly smiling, which usually puts you in the mood again to smile and laugh at his attempt to comfort you. "the series is done peter, that was the last book." you sniff, "hey maybe they'll do a cameo in the prequel!"

peter parker who'd listen to your rambles about your most recent read and do research afterwards because he couldn't process all the lore properly and got confused halfway as you were talking. but even when he is confused, he still listens and nods anyways.

peter parker who waited for it to rain at night so he could recreate the 'kissing & dancing in the rain' scene from one of your favorite books because you wouldn't stop talking about it, and he personally thinks you deserve to experience that at least once. you both ended up getting a cold

peter parker who lays beside you and reads comics while you're reading your books. where he'd slowly inch closer and closer to you and rest his head on your shoulder, placing his comic book down and just slowly fall asleep on your shoulder as you whisper the lines from your book.

peter parker who'd secretly read along from behind and dramatically gasps when a character does something remotely weird. where at the end you two would just start gossiping about how that character would do such things.

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sincericida · 1 year

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11 years later, we got an amazing reunion with Aunt May & Peter Parker. Andrew Garfield presents Sally Field with the Lifetime Achievement Award at The 29th Annual Screen Actors Guild Awards SAG | February 26, 2023

#andrew garfield #sally field #😭#life achievement tribute #sag awards 2023 #sag awards #screen actors guild #awards #peter parker #spider man #aunt may #tasm #the amazing spider man #tasm peter parker #tasm peter #andrew peter parker #andrew peter #sincericida

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astermath · 8 months

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peter parker is a bit of a loser skater boyfriend.

okay, he's not that much of a loser. he takes cool photos, he's good looking and he's done a skate grind on the campus staircase at least once.

and being spiderman is pretty cool too I guess.

but when he's around you, it seems like all the charm melts right off his body, and he's reduced to a nervous college student who's seemingly never interacted with a girl before.

he doesn't mean to, and neither do you, but you seem to bring out that side of him. the side that fails a skating trick every time you're looking. the side that makes him stumble over his words and almost forget his own name. the side that makes him run his hand through his hair until it sticks all over the place, and somehow he's not all that confident in his charisma and wit anymore.

and yet, every time, you offer him that sweet giggle that sends his heart into overdrive, that overtakes all his senses and makes him want to record it and listen to it on loop.

it makes him want to keep trying. until he gets the courage to finally ask you out.

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deathbyathousandspiders · 27 days

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So imagine a fic based off the song "boy in the bubble" by Alec Benjamin where reader gets in a fight on the way home from school the one time she doesn't walk with Peter. Preferably have her father be Tony Stark and he'd take place of the mother in the story.

first, i wanted to say that i loved writing this and i love song prompts :) i hope you enjoy this !!

second, i want to apologize to the anon who told me i better not disappear for months because oops–

WARNINGS (18+ MDNI) — hurt reader, mentions of blood, mentions of pain/wounding, swearing.

✨masterlist✨.

3.6k.

Typically, stepping into your downtown apartment on a Friday evening would be more exciting for you. It meant that your week of stuck–up students and nerve–wracking tests could be long forgotten. It meant that you had the weekend to live freely from academic cages. At the beginning of that day, you would’ve thought today would be like any other Friday; with Peter accompanying you and your father for dinner like every week.

But Peter didn’t walk back with you.

Your tired limbs ripped from the floor with every step, hobbling out of the elevator with as much grace as you had room to carry. That room was slim, making space for the array of bruises and blood tainting your clothing. You carried the last bit of dignity you could, and tried to replace the sinister words spat at you from your attacker:

“What a weak, pathetic excuse for a Stark.”

See, till now, you’d been grateful to be excused from the attention and popularity that accompanied your title. You didn’t care for followers or anything that catered to your birthright. Your father was your best friend, and you were lucky to be a Stark just to have his light in your life. However, there were some who weren’t like your classmates or peers — people who hated the Stark name, and wouldn’t rest until the family name died at their hand.

Tonight, you’d met the first of who knows how many. The thought alone sent a serpent–like shiver down your body.

And Peter wasn’t with you.

The fumes of Tony Stark’s cooking filled your senses as you limped further into your family room. You consciously knew you were late for dinner, but the pain throbbing throughout your body put that knowledge on the back burner. The sunset was just beyond the apartment windows, and it made you wonder whether Peter had beaten you to your own house or not. It was 6:48 after all, he was bound to be there.

You’d nearly forgotten that the subtle ping of the elevator doors announced your arrival. You heard your dad set down his spatula. “You kids are late.” He greeted, hollering from the kitchen. “I hope you two didn’t stop for Delmar’s on your way back!” You processed the undertones as your knees gave out, left hand pressing into the top of the sofa back.

White knuckles gripped onto your couch as you tried to gain your balance, wincing through gritted teeth. Your right arm remained hugging your abdomen, palm pressed onto a sore–spot on your torso. Every fiber in your body ached for some sense of relief. To sit down. You were a bit too stubborn for your own liking, trying to hike up the steps and get to your room without being spotted—

“Jesus Christ!” Your father cried from the archway of the dining room. You heard his hurried steps across the hard–wood flooring, almost too nervous to meet his eyes. He made his way over quickly, and the first thing you noticed through your periphery was the ‘kiss the cook’ apron he kept tied around his waistline. “Kid, what the hell happened?” Your dad crouched down beside you, finally locking eyes with you.

The cold air hitting your eyes made you realize just how quick the tears were welling. You swallowed the lump in your throat, whether it was sobs or embarrassment or dried blood from thrown punches. “I was jumped.” Your bottom lip trembled a bit before you mustered the words out.

Your dad scanned over your body, eying just how tattered your clothes were, and how much blood painted your outfit. His eyes glistened with a parental look— a look shimmering with something mixed of worry and sadness and anguish and apology. “And Peter wasn’t with you?”

That confirmed that your best friend, in fact, had not beaten you to your apartment.

And for some reason, it made things all the more worse. Your jaw clenched a bit, both of concern and frustration. Disappointment nagged at the corners of your lips as you shook your head. “No, he said he’d meet me here later.” Your imagination got the best of you, replaying your evening but if Peter actually had been with you. The thought alone made you shutter. “But it was probably for the best.”

“Did he say what he was doing?” The look in his eyes said something that he wasn’t communicating. They said something unspoken that made you feel like there were things that you weren’t being told.

You ignored it, feeling a surge of pain in your abdomen. A quiet hiss fought its way up your throat. “He didn’t. But it’s fine.” No, it wasn’t. “Peter can’t throw a punch to save his life.”

A laugh actually left your father’s lips. “You’d be surprised.” He muttered, his tone speaking the same tongue that his eyes were. There was definitely something that you didn’t know, but your intuition couldn’t place its finger on what.

It wasn’t your fault that you were oblivious to your best friend’s vigilante status. You were kept in the dark about what web–slinging activities Peter Parker kept behind closed doors. Tony and Peter kept it secret that you were best friends with Spider–Man. They hadn’t let the news slip yet, and Tony wasn’t about to. They both agreed it was in your best interest to keep you safe.

Apparently, their efforts weren’t enough.

Your eyebrow rose, trying to cut through the bullshit. “Are you kidding, Dad?” You asked, maintaining eye contact as your father rose from his crouched position beside you. “It’s Peter Parker we’re talking about here. He wouldn’t even kill a fly.”

Tony’s hands creased his hips, shoulders shrugging gently with his response. “I don’t know, hon. He told me May had him take Karate years back.” He didn’t leave time for a response as his eyes trailed back down to the developing bruises along your arms. Seeing the crusting crimson on his daughter’s body was a sight that made him lose his appetite. “I’ll go grab my medical kit. You’re lucky that Pepper taught me a thing or two before she got promoted.”

The room fell quiet as Tony put pause on dinner and soon rushed back over with a first–aid kit. You didn’t want to stain any furniture, so you managed to sit on a wooden coffee table until you were given further instruction.

It didn’t take long before your mind wandered off to worry about Peter, and what could be keeping him so long. He did tell you before you’d parted ways that he’d join you guys for dinner? Right? You swore that he told you he’d be there by 6:30, and even you were late. Thinking back to the details made you recall some harsh memories. Your wounds throbbed at the recollection of how they came to be, and the blood that was shed, and the words that were spat…

“What a weak, pathetic excuse for a Stark—”

“We should call Bruce.” Your dad’s voice of concern and reason brought you back to the moment. All you could do was stare. You hadn’t noticed that he’d started to examine your wounds, or just how defeated and pained for you he was.

The look made your stomach twist at the insults your own self–critic threw back at you.

Before you knew it, you were standing up, choking back a wince, fighting against yourself. “No! No– it’s just a few scratches. It’s fine.” Was it? Even though the pain was searing, and you wobbled as you stepped to the bathroom. Clearly your father was overreacting. He had to be. You weren’t weak.

Tony followed your footsteps, treading close behind in case you were to trip. “Hon, I’m serious! You look like you went through a paper shredder!”

You looked at him with a grimace, disbelief shone in your eyes. Almost as if he were calling you pathetic. “Don’t make it so intense! I’m sure it’s—” You halted. Everything froze. The air sucked right back into your lungs at the sight of your bloodied figure in the mirror. Flicking on the light, you couldn’t breathe.

The color palette that covered your body could’ve painted an entire canvas worth; the shirt you wore was hanging onto your shoulders with two threads and a miracle, not to mention the slashes at the thighs of your jeans. You’d nearly forgotten that your attacker had such a thick knife until you saw it— saw yourself. A shiver snaked down the length of your spine, leaving a splintering chill behind it.

It wasn’t until Tony turned off the bathroom light that you’d realized you were staring at yourself. He carefully grabbed your hand, leading you back into the living room. “We don’t have to call Bruce, but can I at least clean you up a bit?”

You didn’t have the words to respond to him. A nod was all you could muster before he sat you back down at the coffee table. “Should I– uh.. Should I shower first?”

Tony shook his head beside you. “Until I figure out if you need stitching, no.” He went to investigate the damage, but hesitated, trying to navigate an approach. “Sweetheart? You decent enough to take your shirt off? I could grab you a blanket if that would help–”

But before your dad finished his thought, you went to try and peel off your shirt. It was a lot more difficult than you thought. Painful, too. You were cold and hot and sweaty and sticky and pins and needles dug their way into your limbs each time they moved. You were grateful your dad didn’t even pause before assisting you. He grabbed his medical scissors, snipping off the sleeves of your top.

You and your dad were really comfortable with one another, so this didn’t bother you. You were more blinded by the burns and the harshness to each ache and blemish coating your limbs and torso. Daggers upon daggers of pins and needles sunk into your flesh, yet it hurt you the most to know that you had to present yourself so battered and bruised to your dad. It made you feel so…useless. So…pathetic.

A minute of silence passed, filled with nothing but pity and the sear in your eyes, holding back tears. You wanted to be strong. You needed to be strong. Showing weakness would mean that your attacker was right. Your throat burned, swallowing hard and pushing back your damaged narrative. The feeling of how feeble you felt.

The subtle ping from the elevator made your blood run cold. Your head snapped up to look at who entered the apartment, eyes wide and teary when they met the pair of Peter Parker. And the second he jogged out of the elevator, he stopped dead in his tracks. He gasped quietly, staring back at you with the same gaping eyes.

You didn’t see the way Tony glared at Peter from beside you, but you felt the way he’d stopped inspecting you. Peter walked closer, taking cautious steps as he minimized the distance. “What happened?” His voice was gentle, perhaps because he noticed the tears coating your cheeks.

Wiping your eyes, you realized your hands were trembling. Your whole body shook from the endured trauma, and you shivered like you were in the midst of a blizzard. Had you been shaking that whole time? You didn’t have time to overthink it. You felt like you were being whisked away into a whirlwind of panic.

Tony stood up, his expression crossed with some unspoken irritation. “I need to finish dinner.” His words were short. “Kid, could you help patch her up? She mainly just needs disinfectant.” There was no room for response from Peter before your father started walking. You didn’t see him leave, but you felt the gentle kiss he placed on your head before he left one final comment with Peter:

“And you and I are going to have a talk later.”

You weren’t sure what was going on with the two. Quite frankly, you weren’t sure what was going on in general. Shaking like this, being emotional like this, it was far from anything you were used to.

It felt like you were being violated, forced open, naked— and that wasn’t just because you were without a shirt. You felt exposed, and you couldn’t hide anymore. There was nowhere you could go and nothing you could do to shield from the fact that you were vulnerable right now.

Peter sat in front of you, kneeling so that you could see him. So that he could see you. “Hey..” His voice got soft, gentler, and somehow it broke you. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth to try and stop the way it shuttered. Metal lingered on your tongue and your throat felt hollow and thick with the cries you held back. But Peter was your best friend, and he knew you.

He knew how stubborn you were with your own emotions, and how guarded you kept yourself from showing that part to other people. He knew that you couldn’t hide forever, either. And maybe he’d figured that out when his right hand went to cradle your face, and the tears finally washed away the walls you’d been keeping up.

Somehow seeing him safe was your undoing. The downfall of the avalanche you’d been hobbling in attempt to support, but you couldn’t seal the dam anymore. The relief of knowing that Peter was unharmed, the ease to all your worries, it made you forget why you’d been trying to stop your tears in the first place.

Your body broke out into violent shivers the second you let it, and your shoulders shook with every sob. Peter didn’t say anything. He merely took you into his arms and held you to him, careful not to press against any wound. It terrified you to think about what would’ve happened had Peter walked home with you, unbeknownst to you that he probably would’ve protected you from any of this happening in the first place.

It took you a minute or two to cry it out before Peter set you back on the coffee table. It seemed effortless to pick you up, and that made you realize just how strong he was. Your dad was right, Peter did surprise you.

Peter knew exactly how to mend these kinds of wounds, too. Where did he learn? It might always be a mystery. Still, it came in handy now. He draped his zip–up jacket over your shoulders, before dabbing a cloth of rubbing alcohol against every cut on your torso. He was so focused. Tensed jaw and creased eyebrow, not wavering for a second until you gained the courage to ask him a question. You took a shaky breath.

“Peter?” You murmured, immediately grabbing his attention. Peter glanced at you, the cold glisten in his focused stare began to thaw when he did. He took a breath, perhaps needing to be broken from the train of thought he’d started to entertain. With his attention, you took another breath, nervous.

Your fingers gripped the edge of the coffee table with white knuckles. If you’d been any stronger, maybe you’d broken the table, or even your fingers. “Do you.. think I’m–” You had to suck in another chunk of air just to muster out that taunting, despicable word. “Weak?” Even in your efforts to say it straight, your voice broke in an instant.

Without a beat, his eyes met yours again and he stopped everything he was doing. “Weak?” He repeated back. “No.” The word was so instantly rejected, you’d almost felt stupid bringing it up in the first place. “You’re so far from weak, Y/N. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

Your hands went to hide your face, too ashamed of how quickly you broke before him. From the solitude behind your fingers, you couldn’t see the way Peter also broke at the words. He wasn’t sobbing as you were, but he couldn’t help the sulking of his shoulders. Peter truly blamed himself for this. Setting down the rag, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrists. “Anyone who thinks you’re weak is blind to who you are. That, or they’re idiotically stupid.” He spoke softly, pulling your hands from your face.

“You’re the most courageous person. The amount of bullshit you put up with, and the reporters you call out– Fuck, I can’t even imagine walking away from a fight like you did tonight..” His words of endearment warmed your heart. “You’ve seen the unthinkable, are still going, and you think you’re weak?” He shook his head. “Impossible.”

You and Peter stared for a beat or two before he stood up, carefully helping you to your feet. “I think you’re all set to shower. Do you want me to walk you upstairs?”

Taking a breath, you took Peter’s words to heart. You got this. “I think I’ll be okay.” Ignoring the shakiness in your voice, you took paces to the stairwell. “If I’m not back in thirty, you have permission to make sure I didn’t pass out.”

Peter cracked a small smile at you, “Noted. Text me if you need anything!” He added the offer, to which he saw you nod to, and he caught a glimpse of your timid smile. He knew you’d be okay, but it still didn’t shake the weight of how to blame he was. The sound of Tony clearing his throat from the kitchen only seemed to remind him. And with a second clearing of his throat, Peter realized that Tony was trying to communicate.

Walking into the kitchen, Peter saw Tony leaned back against the counter, arms crossed with a cold stare. “Mister Stark, I–”

“Where the hell were you tonight?”

The tone changed the entire atmosphere. No amount of savory fragrances from the cuisine could take away from the fact that Peter was in trouble.

Peter’s shoulders squared at the intensity carried with Tony’s aggravation. He took a breath, pausing in the doorway. “Sir, there was an armed–”

Tony’s fist met the marble counter in a startle. “Damn it, Pete!” Kid couldn’t get a word in if he tried. “Damn it, you had one job!” His index finger went up to emphasize his point.

“What was I supposed to do??” Peter felt like he was fighting a losing battle. “I had no idea what was going to happen!” In the midst of his hushed defense, his voice broke a bit from the weight of his guilt. “Mister Stark.. I think it’s time we tell her.”

A scoff was what Peter was met with. A rush of air caught on Tony’s disbelief, throat, and dismissal. “We’d tell Y/N what? That you’re Spider–Man? That we’ve been lying for this long?”

It was a tough call, and Peter knew that. Peter also knew that Tony couldn’t keep this shit up any longer than he could. “She deserves to know!” He planned to plead his case. “Whoever attacked her tonight planned this. It wasn’t by chance, she was targeted–”

“You don’t know that—”

“And you don’t either!” Peter wasn’t about to get cut off again. He let out some of the steam he’d began to bottle. “The way she’s acting.. Something’s off about what happened. And I think she deserves to know why I wasn’t there to defend her tonight.”

As much as the two had raised their voices, or grown to anger, they let the reality of the evening sink into the space between them. The thickened air sat within the walls as they both took a breath and collected themselves. Tony’s expression melted, and he finally reached over to turn off the stove.

Dinner was almost ready.

The back of Tony’s hips met the marble countertop behind him, supporting his weight as he crossed his arms, looking at Peter sympathetically. “Look, kid. I don’t blame you for what happened tonight.”

A weight or two instantly lifted from Peter’s guilty–conscious. “I know.” He lied.

Tony’s lips curled ever so slightly at the hasty quip. “As much as I agree with your conspiracy theories on Y/N’s attacker, I don’t know if coming clean about everything will solve this.”

There was a subtle sinking to Peter’s mending optimism. “Then when do you plan to tell her?”

A pause. Tony sighed, releasing a breath he’d been holding since Peter’s spider bite. “I don’t know..” Genuinity. Tony’s paternal protocol kicked in, and he wasn’t sure how to navigate it entirely.

On the one hand, his daughter deserved to know the truth. You deserved to know the truth. His wisdom and knowledge was such a curse when it came to fatherhood, because while being honest was what his role as a father called for, logic came right back to remind him of just how many lies were piled on top of each other. What if there was no coming back from this?

Tony shrugged, appearing more open to the idea of being truthful. “I’ll tell you what.” He started, “You tell me how you’d suggest telling Y/N you’re Spider–Man, and I’ll consider it–”

“Peter’s what?”

Ice. The room turned to ice too quickly, both Tony and Peter snapping their heads to look at you in the doorway. They hadn’t noticed you’d been listening. You’d been standing there for who knows how long, considering that you hadn’t even showered yet.

Both of the men in front of you exchanged glances of sheer panic before Tony cleared his throat to get your attention. He held up the frying pan, looking you dead in the eyes with the most false–confidence you’d ever seen your father carry.

“Dinner’s ready.” His voice cracked.

Yeah, there was absolutely no coming back from this.

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blooming-violets · 1 year

Note

For Inexperienced Smut Prompts

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

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

Not So Innocent || Inexperienced Smut Prompts

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You felt like vomiting. She poured you something else.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But, Peter…

“Am I fuckable?”

His eyes widened, “Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter chuckled. It was a nice sound.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was it.

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

“Jackpot,” Peter muttered under his breath.

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

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

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

You nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can-” he breathed. “Can I?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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