#Peter Parker fanfiction

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

i dare you

a/n: for all of you hoes who are also hot for teacher, bon appetit, bitch ♡

summary: “no, I was thinking a little something else,” a mischievous grin slowly twisted up his lips, “how about, if we win, then you have to make a move on that professor,” he goaded, “but if you win, then we’ll–, I don’t know, what would you like?” 

warnings: professor!peter parker x innocent!reader, smut, dark content, college au, polyamory, student/teacher relationship, forbidden romance, age gap, dilf!peter, babysitting, alcohol consumption, kissing, corruption kink, car sex, semi-public sex, voyeurism, panty sniffing, dirty talk, hair pulling, masturbation, fingering

word count: 3611

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take her under your wing au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

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Staying back, you watched in your periphery as the other students slowly filtered out of the lecture hall, though your gaze stayed glued to the teacher as he packed up his things down by the wide chalkboard.

Professor Parker’s back was turned to you as you neared, and a murmur quickly rolled off your tongue, “professor, I just wanted to–,” but then as he whirled around, unaware of how close you had crept, his frame bumped directly into yours, and the half-empty cup of cold coffee in his grasp jostled in the clash and splashed down upon the both of you.

“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed as his eyes first flickered down to the large stain on his shirt before they blinked up to discover who was to blame.

“I am so sorry, oh no…” you gasped as you stared back at his ruined button-down, the sodden state of your own clothing not seeping through your guilt yet. 

“It’s–,” the flash of anger that had momentarily sparked was swiftly squashed when his gaze fell upon you, “it’s alright,” he exhaled as his shoulders relaxed, “I have some spare clothes in my office.”

“Really?”

“Habit of being a dad,” he shrugged as he picked up his leather satchel, “this is not the first time I’ve spilt something on myself. Come, you can borrow one as well. I’m guessing you don’t want to walk around campus like that,” he faintly nodded to your t-shirt as his eyes fought not to stare. 

“What?” you finally glanced down at yourself and noticed how the soaked coffee stain had turned the thin cotton of your shirt nearly transparent, “oh…” heat swiftly began to rise in your cheeks for a different reason other than just the mortification of the clumsy collision, “oh my god…” 

Though you only shrugged on the button-down he handed you once you stepped inside of his office, merely covering up the sheer state of your shirt enough for you to get back to your dorm and change, your heart began to hammer in your chest as he absentmindedly stripped off his ruined shirt and didn’t realise what he had done till half of the buttons on the fresh one was fastened. 

“So,” he swiftly cleared his throat as you struggled to blink away from the sliver of his chest that he hastily covered back up, “what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?” 

“Hm?” you hummed, fearing drool might be leaking down your chin by now. 

“When I walked into you,” he reminded your foggy head, “you started saying something, so what was it?” 

“Oh, that…” an airy chuckle puffed out of your lungs as you averted your gaze, “it’s so silly now…” and you tugged open your backpack and reached into it before you uttered, “I know it’s cliche, but I brought you an apple…” 

“Oh,” a smile warmed up the older man’s features as you plucked the fruit out of your bag and held it for him to grasp, “that’s cute.”

Once in his hand, he twisted around to place it delicately in the middle of the cluttered desk behind him. 

“You know, now that you’re here,” he began before he turned back to face you, “I wanted to talk to you about maybe looking after Benjamin again.” 

“I dare you.” 

“What? No!” you shrieked at Andy as he cracked open another beer for himself, “he’s my professor!”

“So? That shouldn’t stop you,” he cocked a brow, “go ask Billy, he’s screwed more faculty members than I can recall,” he nodded to the frat guy currently propped up against the far side wall, chatting up some girl as the party buzzed around him, “come on, you said you have a crush on him.”

“Oh my god,” you swiftly buried your head in your hands, “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Well, then maybe don’t play truth or dare if you’re gonna be such a baby about the things you share,” he only chuckled in return. 

Marc then draped an arm around your shoulders and boomed over the music, “you should go for it!”

“Stop, I’m not gonna seduce him,” you crawled out of hiding with a groan, “I’m not some siren.” 

“No, but you are a hot little freshman, which is pretty damn close,” Marc smirked as you met his gaze. 

A head then poked through the open doorway before it swivelled to find you, “hey, there you guys are,” Scott waved a hand, “we’re up.”

“Oh, finally,” Andy exhaled before you all began to shift into the room in the fraternity where the beer pong table was permanently set up in, “who won last round?”

“Curtis and Bucky,” Scott cocked his head as you settled in beside him on one end of the table while the two others migrated towards the opposite side. 

“Aw, man…” Marc swiftly sighed, “they’re probably gonna take the crown again…”  

And as you all prepared the table for another game, lining cups up in triangles on either end, Andy’s voice then found your ears as you grasped the small ping pong balls in your palm, ready for your first toss.  

“Wait, how about we make this a little more interesting?”

Furrowing your brow, you shifted the lightweight sphere from one hand to the other, “interesting how? I don’t wanna put money on this, if that’s what you mean. My stepfather, and by proxy Steve, may be rich assholes, but that doesn’t mean I am…” 

“No, I was thinking a little something else,” a mischievous grin slowly twisted up his lips, “how about, if we win, then you have to make a move on that professor,” he goaded, “but if you win, then we’ll–, I don’t know, what would you like?” 

“Oh, wait, I get to choose something?” your eyes couldn’t help but widen at the temptation.

“Yeah.” 

Mulling it over, you then uttered, “…well, my notes for pretty much all of my classes are really messy… so, if I win, then you guys could organise them all,” you pointed at both of your competitors with a smile, “rewrite them in nice legible handwriting, colour code it and everything.” 

“Seriously?” Andy promptly squinted at you as a look of disappointment washed over his features. 

“That's what I want.” 

“You know you could have had anything, or anyone, as a prize, and you chose that?” 

“What?” you blinked back at him as if you were a puppy, “it’s what I want.” 

“Alright then,” a chuckle slipped through his sigh, “game on.” 

“Oh, hey. You’re back,” you uttered as you picked your nose out of the textbook cracked open on your professor’s dining table and glanced up to spot him waltzing in through the door. He was slightly wet from the brief trek up the driveway and into the house as rain had begun to hammer against the windows. 

“Yeah, that fundraiser dragged on for an eternity…” he sighed as he hung up his coat. Stepping closer to where you sat, he asked, “how did it go here? Is Benji down for the night?” 

“Yep, he’s asleep,” you nodded, “we played outside in the garden,” you smiled as you reported, thinking back to how you and the six-year-old had played hide and seek, “he helped supervise while I made dinner, by the way, there’s still some left over in the fridge if you haven’t eaten yet,” you briefly pointed over your shoulder towards the kitchen, “and then we started reading Ronja, the Robber's Daughter as a bedtime story, and just as a fair warning, he is hooked. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wakes up tomorrow morning with a burning desire to run into the woods and pretend that he is the daughter of a viking.” 

Your collective giggles about the child filled the air a moment before it simmered down once more and Peter’s eyes drifted to your homework on the table.  

“And what’s this now?” he planted a hand close to where you sat and leaned in. 

“This is the assignment for your class, but don’t peek yet!” your fingers swiftly grasped the corner of the notebook in front of you before you tilted it mostly shut to hide the scribbled words from his view, “that’s cheating! You’ll just have to be patient and get it next week along with all the others.” 

“I’ll try my best,” he chuckled as he gazed down at you. 

And as you met his eye, your vision soon flickered down to the buttoned-up collar of his shirt before you remembered, “oh hey,” and you dipped down to slip a hand into the backpack you had leaned against the leg of the dining table, “I forgot to give this back to you earlier.”

“Oh, thanks,” his eyebrows floated up a tad as you handed him the shirt you’d borrowed, “I almost forgot about it,” before his fingers drifted up to push his glasses back into place. 

A crack of thunder then ripped both of your attentions to the broad window behind you.

“Wow,” you murmured as you watched a bolt of lightning split through the darkness of the late evening, “it’s really coming down out there…” 

“Yeah…” Professor Parker hummed before his glance shifted to you, “wait, was that your bicycle out front? You can’t ride back in this weather,” his head faintly shook from side to side.  

“Oh, well, you live so close to campus, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

“Nonsense, I’ll drive you,” he pressed. 

“You really don’t have to, it’s already so late.”

“Young lady, I am giving you a lift and that’s final,” he captured your timid gaze, “I can’t have my best student get sick or struck by lightning.”

Feeling your cheeks heat up, you breathed, “well, when you put it like that…” 

“Let me just go put this away,” he raised the shirt in his hand up slightly, “and then we’ll be on our way.” 

“Great,” you smiled before it promptly dropped as he slipped out of the room. 

It had been the guys who had talked you into shimmying off your panties the next time you were here and placing them on his bedside table to enjoy, though you had all but forgotten about the lack of coverage currently beneath your skirt right until you watched your professor waltz right into the lion’s den. 

“W-wait–,” you tried to stop him, but by the time you parted your lips, he was already long gone. 

And before you even realised it, you had risen from the chair and your feet had begun to tip-toe after him. The dark hallway swallowed you whole as you crept through it towards the open doorway into his bedroom. 

Hiding yourself in the shadows with your fingernails digging into the doorframe as you peeked inside, a silent prayer left your lips as you hoped he’d not notice the tiny ball of folded-up, pastel-blue cotton on the nightstand, at least not while you were still under his roof. 

Though when he’d tossed the shirt into the hamper by his closet, his footsteps faltered when he turned to exit the room. As he stared at the small bundle, it wasn’t till he reached the bedside table that he realised what exactly it was. 

Picking it up, he turned it over in his hand a moment before your palm soared up to clasp over your mouth and silence a gasp as he then raised the pale fabric up even higher till it reached his nose.

Though you knew that you should have, you just couldn’t tear your stare away from him, even after his free hand had squeezed the growing bulge in his pants, after he had freed his fat cock, and even after soft grunts began to tumble up his throat as he let his eyes flutter shut and his tight fist began to stroke his length.

And once he’d gotten himself off, his cum now staining your panties clutched tightly in his grip, he then crumbled them up and stuffed them into his pocket.

Scrambling to rush back to the dining room, you tried to ignore the throbbing between your thighs and the arousal that had begun to leak down them as well from that sinful display. 

When you heard his footsteps echo down the hallway, you packed up your things as quickly as you could, tossing them into your backpack as you tried your best to pretend that nothing had just happened.

Clearing his throat as he entered the room once more, he then murmured, “you ready to go?” 

“Mhm,” you twisted around to face him, however noticed how he refused to meet your eye.

Though you both tried to be hasty as you went out into the storm, strapping your bike to a rack on the back of his car, you were both still completely soaked when the vehicle’s doors closed behind each of you, low exhales acting as punctuations after the slams. 

You tried to recall the long list of tips and tricks your stepbrother’s friends had pushed on you, but your mind went completely blank as all you could think about was the vision of your teacher touching himself before your very eyes. 

And before Peter’s fingers could slip the key in and turn on the engine, you found yourself, in your flustered frenzy, leaning in to press your lips to his own. 

The kiss was rushed and rather clumsy, but you stayed frozen, long enough for your tense shoulder to begin to thaw, though when you finally felt him slip from his stunned state, he only kissed you back for a split second before his hands grasped your shoulders and he tilted you away from him. 

“What are you doing?” he demanded breathlessly as his grip stayed at your upper arms to keep you at a distance. 

“I’m sorry, I just–,” you gasped shakily, “I think I might like you…” 

“Oh fuck…” a long sigh slipped from his lungs as he bowed his head and closed his eyes, “this can’t be happening…”

“I’m sorry, I should have asked first, I just kind of panicked,” you tried, hearing your voice tremble embarrassingly. 

“No, you shouldn’t have asked, because none of this should have happened in the first place,” he swiftly grumbled before he let his touch fade from your arms, “this is all my fault, I shouldn’t have crossed this line, opened my home to you and let you see me as something other than your superior.” 

“Professor,” you shifted in your seat, “I’m sorry that I kissed you, I just thought that you might–”

“Kissed me? Oh, this isn’t just about you kissing me,” a soft scoff bubbled out of him as his head faintly shook, “miss Y/l/n, you can’t just leave your undergarments around for your teacher to find.”

Averting your gaze, you found yourself muttering just beneath your breath, “…well it didn’t look like you minded…”

“What?” he nearly growled, “what did you just say?”

“I–…”

“Were you spying on me?” he accused heatedly. 

“I–, well–,” you panted, “I can explain, it wasn’t my idea–”

“So, what–, this is just some game you’ve got going with your little friends? See who can sleep with a teacher first or something?” 

“No, it’s not,” you frantically shook your head before you had to tilt it in shame, “or well–, some people I know found out about the dumb crush I have on you and then they kinda dared me, gave me some suggestions on what to do…” 

“Oh my god…” he exhaled slowly and averted his gaze, “…okay…” he then enclosed his fingers around the steering wheel, “I am gonna drive you back and then we will both forget that any of this ever happened, you got it?” he said firmly, though the hurt in your eyes he then spotted as you blinked back at him swayed him to take a step back and choose his next words very carefully, “look, you’re a very sweet girl, and I’m flattered, truly, but you don’t want me,” he faintly shook his head as he gazed back into your glossy eyes, “you should go be with someone your own age…”

“Should I?” you innocently uttered in a heartbreaking tone, “just like you shouldn’t be getting off to the thought of your students?” 

Checkmate. 

Slowly, you inched closer to his frozen form, “it’s okay,” you whispered when you leaned so near that your noses nearly touched, “I promise, I won’t tell anyone…”

And then as if something inside of your teacher snapped, he huffed, “fuck…” before he closed the short gap between you both and kissed you fiercely.

It felt as if he was trying to devour you whole as you began to make out in his car, rain still thrashing against the outside as his tongue fluttered against yours for a taste of your youth. 

Your fingers soon drifted up to tangle his soaked tie in your grasp and you found yourself purring meekly against his lips as his own touch floated up your frame, ghostly against your sides, before he cupped your jaw. 

But just as quickly as he had shattered, he once again pulled back, just ever so slightly to murmur, “this is wrong…” his hot breath fanned across your flaming cheeks, “you’re my student…” before you tilted up to steal another peck from him, one so sweet that it prompted him to crumble even further, “h-how old are you? You’re eighteen?” he asked breathlessly before you offered him a faint nod, “you’re eighteen…” he panted through his conflict, “holy fuck…” 

You then kissed him again till his hands gradually began to gain more confidence as they raked across your frame. His touch was bold as it captured your tits, palming the softness through the wet clothing that clung to your curves, making you whimper into his mouth, a sweet sound that caused him to smirk faintly against your lips before he deepened the kiss even further.  

“You can touch me, professor,” you panted as one of his hands soared up to weave through the hair at the nape of your neck, “it’s okay, I want you to.”

With his grip rooted in your hair and keeping you close, he held your eye as he then let one of his palms slowly wander down between your thighs till your skirt gathered around the watch on his wrist and his touch crept up to brush against your bare core. 

Studying the reaction that flashed across your features closely, he groaned, “holy shit…” as your needy nectar soaked his careful touch, “is this for me? Really?” 

“Mhm…” you struggled to nod as his fingertips swept up to graze against your throbbing clit. 

“Fuck…” he shared your breath, “you really had me believing that you were just a good little girl who’d never pull a stunt like this…”

“Well, maybe I am,” you uttered raggedly as his caresses caused you to tremble with every rub and flick he granted you in his exploration of your haven, “maybe I just have some really bad influences in my life.” 

“Yeah, well then lucky me,” two of his long fingers promptly swept down to slip inside of you, making you gasp at the sudden stretch before you squirmed, your legs instinctively wiggling further apart for him, “keep that devil on your shoulder if this is what it gets you.” 

Loosing himself completely, it was as if he was possessed as the kind hearted professor you once knew was no longer the man sitting in the car next to you, certainly not the older doctor who soon began to fuck you with his fingers, making your pussy sing for him, and weep against the leather seat below, as he greedily rocked his digits inside of you. 

Tilting down, he let his lips flutter against the collum of your neck as he murmured, “what else did your friends say you should do to get me to fuck you, huh?”

“They–, they–…” you tried to recall, but simply couldn’t as the sensation of his fingers, dragging in and out of your dripping cunt, rendered it an impossible task to accomplish, “fuck… I don’t know, I don’t remember…” 

“You don’t?” a low chuckle rumbled in his chest at how flustered he’d made you.

“N-no,” your thighs trembled on either side of his hand as it momentarily withdrew to slip up through your soaked petals to offer your puffy pearl a brief rub, before his touch once again soared down to fill you up, “fuck, please don’t stop, that feels so good.” 

“Yeah?” he pressed his nose against your cheek as he gazed down at your pussy, the front of your skirt now pushed up so high on your hips that one merely had to glance to catch sight of the leaky mess now on full display, “you gonna cum?”

“Mhm,” you nodded frantically as your eyes too fluttered down to peer at his fingers, shiny as they pumped within you, and your eyebrows knitted tightly in pleasure as the overwhelming high threatened to come crashing down upon you like an avalanche. 

“Then do it,” the grip he had on the roots of your hair flexed as he then tilted your head slightly for him to capture your hazy gaze, “give me something to think about when I get myself off,” he groaned breathlessly as he kept up his ruthless pace, “cum all over my fingers like a good little girl.” 

And as your cunt clenched down around his digits, your loud moans bounced off the car’s walls, “p-professor–, o-oh fuck!” 

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[thollandsgirl2013]

Omg you should do one where the reader pretends to get a bigger bra size than her usual ( which is pretty small) like in the tiktok trend with tom or peter

𝐓��𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐬 & 𝐋𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → Fluff, Humor, Teasing, Light Innuendo, Prank.

Summary → You prank Peter with a bra size test, but he outsmarts you, buys lingerie, and flirts his way to victory.      

(gif not mine)

It was supposed to be a quick Target run. You and Peter had a list—snacks, detergent, some new pens because Peter always lost his, and maybe a new hoodie for you because, despite having a dozen, you still steal his. But shopping with Peter was never quick.

"Okay, we need to focus," you announced, gripping the red shopping cart handle as you stepped through the sliding glass doors. "No distractions, no unnecessary items, no—"

"Oh my god, look! Lego sets are on sale!" Peter pointed excitedly, already veering off-course.

You sighed, but your lips twitched in amusement. "Peter, focus."

"But—"

"Snacks first. Then you can check the Legos."

Peter pouted but let you guide him toward the grocery section, where you picked out chips, popcorn, and his favorite gummy worms. The trip continued with him sneaking in random items "Babe, do we need a mini waffle maker?" "Peter, we don’t even make waffles." "But we could!" and before you knew it, you found yourself near the clothing section.

And then you saw it. The underwear aisle.

A mischievous grin spread across your face. Recently, you had seen a TikTok prank where girls grabbed too big size bras to see if their boyfriends would notice. Peter was observant—sometimes painfully so. If you tried this prank on him, would he pass?

You casually wandered into the underwear section.

Peter, pushing the cart behind you, raised a brow. "Uh, babe? Do you actually need undergarments?"

You hummed nonchalantly, pretending to browse. "Maybe. Just looking."

Peter didn’t argue, just trailed after you, rocking back and forth on his heels. You grabbed two bras—two sizes bigger than your usual size—and plopped them into the cart.

Peter blinked at them. His head tilted. Then his brows furrowed.

"Babe," he said slowly, picking one up, "are you sure this is your size?"

You feigned innocence. "What do you mean? I know my size."

Peter’s nose scrunched in confusion. "These seem... way bigger than your size." He turned the bra in his hands, inspecting it like it was a complex physics equation. Then he flipped the tag and saw the size. His eyes widened slightly. "Yup. These are two sizes bigger."

You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting a smirk. "What?"

"Yeah… how do you not notice that?" His head tilted even further, curls bouncing slightly.

"What do you know anything about bra sizes?" You shot back, crossing your arms.

Peter looked at you like you just asked him why the sun was hot. "We've been together for five years. Of course, I know your size."

You blinked. "Wait. What?"

Peter lifted the bra again. "These are way too big for you." Then, without an ounce of hesitation, he added, "Even if I didn't know your exact size, I can tell these are too big because I play with your boobs all the time."

Your mouth dropped open. "Peter Benjamin Parker!"

Peter blinked at you, completely unfazed. "What?"

"So, you're saying my boobs are small?"

His jaw practically unhinged. "I NEVER SAID THAT."

"You just did!" You pointed an accusing finger at him, trying not to laugh.

"Oh my god, babe." Peter groaned, running a hand down his face, already spiraling into full panic mode. "Big or small, it doesn’t matter! You’re perfect! Your boobs are perfect! Perfect grab size for me! I love them, okay?"

And you lost it. A full, belly-aching laugh burst from your lips as you tried—and failed—to contain yourself. Peter stared at you in distress.

"Why are you laughing!?" He whined, his voice slightly higher than usual.

You gasped for air. "Oh my god, babe—"

"Now, why do I feel like this was a trap?"

"Because it was," you admitted, still giggling. "You passed, though."

Peter groaned again, rubbing his hands over his face. "I swear, you’re gonna give me a heart attack one day."

You grinned, leaning against the cart.

"Do you really need bras?"

"Not really," you admitted with a playful shrug. Then, lowering your voice, you added, "But if you're buying, I'm not gonna say no." You gave him a smirky, innocent look.

Peter exhaled through his nose, shook his head, and put the wrong-sized bras back on the hanger. As he did, something caught his eye—a black lace bra with matching lace underwear.

He checked the size.

Nodded to himself.

Grabbed the set.

Then, without a single word, he dropped it into the cart and started walking away.

Your eyes widened. "Peter!"

"Hey, wait for meeee!" You rushed after him, heart pounding.

-----------

After checking out (Peter very casually scanning the lingerie while avoiding eye contact with the cashier), you arrived home and started unpacking the bags. You were about to put the new lingerie set away when you felt Peter’s arms wrap around your waist from behind.

"You gonna try it on?" His voice was low, teasing.

You bit your lip. "Why? You picked it out. Shouldn’t you already know how it would look on me?"

Peter hummed, lips grazing your neck. "I have a pretty good imagination, but, y'know… I like proof."

You turned in his arms, grinning up at him. "You're impossible."

Peter grinned back. "And yet, you love me."

You rolled your eyes, but your smile softened. "Yeah, yeah."

He pulled you closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. "No more pranks?"

You smirked. "I make no promises."

Peter groaned. "I need to start setting up traps for you."

"You wouldn't dare."

He leaned in again, lips brushing yours. "Babe, I'm Spider-Man. I know how to set traps."

Your breath hitched, but before you could respond, he spun away, grabbing the bag of snacks and heading for the kitchen.

You blinked. "DID YOU JUST FLIRT AND RUN?"

Peter laughed from the other room. "Consider it payback!"

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[uhhhj13iguess]

peter parker x reader: roommates to lovers headcanons

tom!peter parker and fem!reader living together post high school (i really only used fem language in the last hc, the rest can be read however!)

you and peter moving into an apartment together during college at mit and becoming a thousand times closer than you were before, if that's even possible

your apartment would constantly be scattered with notes and textbooks from your late night study sessions, the air often filled with laughter at 3am when you're both nearly delusional from the lack of sleep

peter would be in and out at odd hours for his nightly patrols, and you always keep the window in the living room unlocked for him so he didn't wake you up pounding on the window to be let in at the ass crack of dawn (not that you found out from experience or anything...)

while he would try not to wake you, you'd grown to be a light sleeper, knowing most nights he would need help patching himself up. he would beg you to go back to bed, but you wouldn't have it, grabbing the sewing kit and helping him clean up

as shy as he is, I think we forget all too often how SASSY this man is, and he would get comfortable enough with you to snap back

"peter, holy shit you're bleeding!" "oh, is that what the red stuff is? really?"

peter isn't the cleanest roommate, but you never seem to mind picking up after him, knowing he's quite literally too focused on saving the lives of others. it also gave you an excuse to steal a sweatshirt now and then while picking up

speaking of, the first time peter came home from patrol and found you asleep on the couch in his sweatshirt, he nearly combusted

that night changed a lot of things in peter, seeing you in his clothes bringing his childhood crush on you out at an insane rate he just couldn't seem to bury anymore

peter can't cook to save his life, having had aunt may to take care of him up until moving in with you. you, on the other hand, loved to cook, especially for him. he would come home from class to find the apartment filled with the most heavenly scents, and all his stress would just disappear

the two of you would have routine movie nights, decking the living room out with a homemade fort and every single pillow/blanket you two owned. more often than not, you let peter pick what to watch, not able to resist the look of pure joy on his face as he cued up yet another star wars movie

these movie nights led to feelings beginning to fester in you as well, as halfway through, peter would be dead asleep and curled up into your side. sometimes he would fall asleep with his head in your lap as you played with his soft curls, and you couldn't imagine being anywhere else. you knew how hard he worked for everyone all the time, and being able to see his face in such a state of peace made your heart flutter (especially whenever he groaned at your touch in his sleep)

after about six months of living together, the vibes are genuinely unreadable. the lines between friends and more are wildly blurry, but neither of you would know how to say something, too happy in the bliss you were creating to mess it up by admitting your feelings (because what if they aren't reciprated? both dumbasses asked themselves while wrapped in each others arms on the couch)

tony, who comes to the apartment one day looking for peter, only to then see you walk into the room mid-conversation and establish the entire relationship for you

"oh, is this the girlfriend, kid?" "oh she's not, i mean we're not, i don't like, she's just my... roommate--" "I'm just your roommate?" "no! i mean, of course not, i just, we haven't, i mean i didn't-" "seems like this is a conversation i don't want to be here for. give me a ring after you're done with the misses, mkay?"

[thollandsgirl2013]

Soooo cute!!

Exams (oneshot/mcu peter)

🂱︎ pairing: mcu peter parker x female reader

🂱︎ synopsis: Peter gets caught up studying for his exams.

🂱︎ genres: established relationship, fluff

🂱 warnings: none :) for my first fic I thought I'd keep it nice and fluffy

🂱 notes: my first fic on here! I've posted this ages ago on Wattpad (ew) but I think it deserves to be put up on here too :)

The door to Peter's bedroom creaks open as it reveals dozens of papers all over the floor, pencils scattered across his desk, a calculator for some reason webbed to the wall, but no Peter in sight.

You balanced the plate of newly baked cookies on one hand as you made his way across his room, using your other arm to balance yourself as you looked down on the floor trying not to step all over his notes.

"Peter?" You called out.

There was no answer but the sudden sound of a keyboard clicking from behind you. Nope, not from behind, on top of you.

You take a cookie and reach your arm up to the ceiling, and feel his hand touch yours and steal the cookie away.

"Are you gonna come down?" You asked finally looking up at your boyfriend, sitting cross legged on the ceiling, typing away on his laptop.

"Sorry darling, give me a second." He replied biting into the cookie, a few crumbs falling on your shoulder.

You brushed the crumbs of the hoodie of his you were wearing, and checked the time on your phone. It reads 6:12pm.

"I texted you I was on my way here, did you get the message?"

"Er--" He says pulling his phone out of his pocket, to see your message pop up on the screen.

"I guess I did, sorry, been preoccupied." He replies, absentmindedly putting his phone down (on the ceiling) only to have it fall down to you, with your reflexes quick enough to catch it before it made contact with the ground.

"You should get down here soon. Your head looks like it's ready to pop like a balloon." His head did in fact not look like it was about to pop, due to his spider-powers that allowed for him to comfortably remain upside down. You did however want to stress that it was about time he give himself a break. You make your way to his bed, putting his phone down on his side table.

"mhmm, in a minute. I think better up here. Maybe it has something to do with the blood flow to my brain or the lack of distractions on my ceiling." He replies still not having looked at you properly once since you got here.

"Peter?"

"Yes y/n." He replies

"What time do you think it is?" You add.

"Uh, 4:00." He replies.

"Wrong, it's almost 6:15 so I think it's about time you head back down here and let gravity do its job."

He finally looked at you, his brown hair falling every which way.

He sighs, and closes his laptop. You make your way under him once again, catching his laptop as he let it fall to your hands. He followed suit and jumped down, coming nose to nose distance to you.

"Hi." 

"Hi."

He lands a quick kiss on your nose. He stumbles, tripping over some pencils scattered around the floor.

"Falling for me are ya?" you tease.

"always." he replies.

You make your way to his bed, and he settles his pretty little head to rest on your stomach, your hands lacing around his brown curls.

"Ooft, should have probably come down sooner." He says suddenly breaking the peaceful silence.

"I figured, you were up there for like 2 hours?." You replied.

"4."

"4 what?" You asked

"I started at 2, I've been up there for 4 hours."

"PETER!"

"What? Like I said, I focus better up there."

"You have to take better care of yourself! Have you even had a drink of water since then?" You asked

"Uh, no..."

"Let me get you a glass then--"

"It's fine I'll get one myself." He replies getting off you. He reaches the door and turns the knob when the sound of the metal crunching under his hand bring your attention to him.

He releases the knob, only to find it crumpled like a piece of paper.

"Sorry, er... It happens when I'm tired and forget to control my strength." He adds shyly before exiting the room.

"you web-head." you reply. He chuckles and exits the room. Your curiosity gets the best of you and you decide to check out what Peter's been working so hard on. 'Ew, calculus.' you think to yourself as you flip through his notes.

You hear Peter enter the room behind you, and he sets his glass down and wraps his arms around your waist from behind, resting his head on your shoulder and pressing his chest against your back.

"Ew, calculus right." he says, you chuckle lightly under your breath.

"my brain hurts." he hums into your hair.

"haha, I can tell." you reply going through one of the equations he couldn't seem to finish.

"mhmm" he replies tiredly, taking in the fresh scent of your shampoo.

"one of these pythagorean conjugates is wrong." you add suddenly.

"hm? No, I triple checked that." Peter replies.

"Nuh uh, you might've just read it wrong but this is meant to be cosine not cotangent." You add lifting up the paper to his eye line and pointing out his careless mistake.

"No. NO WAY!" He says pulling away from you and snatching the paper out of your hand.

"I KNEW SOMETHING ABOUT THAT WASN'T RIGHT!" He adds, one hand almost crumpling the paper and the other pulling at his already disheveled curls.

"Maybe you're just not as smart as you think, bug-boy." you reply laughing at his distressed state.

"No, I just have a genius girlfriend!" He drops the paper and picks you up by the waist and spins you around. Your laughter fills the room and that would've been enough to light up Peter's whole world. He set you down slowly and covered your face with soft kisses, leaving your mouth for last.

"Thank you." He adds, his eyes looking deep into yours.

"Not a problem my spider-man."

[rainydayathogwarts]

Bed side drawer - Peter Parker

summary: when Tony finds a box of condoms in Peter's bed side drawer, he doesn't expect Peter's girlfriend to walk into the room, causing an awkward interaction. a/n: my toxic trait is that i always imagine tasm!peter even tho it's in the avengers universe 0.6k wc

When Peter walks into his bedroom, the first thing his eyes lay on is the box of condoms in his mentor's hand. Tony Stark smirks from where he sits on his mentee's bed, drinking the cup of coffee Aunt May had so graciously prepared him. Peter's eyes go wide, flickering between his open bed side drawer and his mentor, and he dives across the room to get the box from him. Peter nearly hits his head against the wall when Tony tosses the box in the air, catching it in his hand when it falls down again. Peter's face flushes red as he scrambles back up, straightening his bed sheets where he haphazardly landed on them, mouth gaping open. Peter can hear you laughing with his Aunt May in the living room about another one of May's stories. She always had to tell you about the stories of how smitten he was with you, an attempt for your relationship to last forever. He needs to get that box before you walk in because that was not the situation he imagined you'd meet Mr. Stark in. He refused to let it happen.

Peter tilts his head to the side with desperate eyes, begging "Please give me those Mr. Stark." Tony grins teasingly, saying "You know these only work when there are two people involved, right?" Peter doesn't have time to react before the door to his room opens again and you walk in, saying something about the story Aunt May had told you before your eyes land on the older man in the room, prompting you to go silent. Oh no, Peter thinks. Tony quickly's eyes quickly scan you where you awkwardly stand in the doorway, and the obvious mortification that settles on your face at the realisation of who he is.

"Oh."

"Oh." Tony's tone is suggestive, and completely different from yours. He stands up from Peter's bed, slowly making his way across the room to you. His eyes flicker between you and Peter, the box of condoms still in his hands as you shoot a hand out in front of you, smiling nervously and saying "Hi, I'm y/n." in a lowsy attempt to ignore the box laying in the man's hand, eyes glancing down to it a couple of times. Tony shakes your hand, introducing himself, before asking "And who might you be y/n?" Gulping, you glance between your boyfriend, whose face has flushed a dark shade of red, and the avenger standing in front of you. "I'm Peter's girlfriend." You state, eyes widening as Tony puts the box of condoms in your hand.

"There are two people involved then..." You hear him mutter under his breath, but it's nothing as embarrassing as Aunt May walking into the busy room and observing the situation, attention immediately caught by the box of condoms that you throw at your boyfriend in a panic. The box hits Peter's chest and falls on the floor, and neither of you make a move to pick it up whilst you smile awkwardly at May, who follows Tony out of the room. You huff when they walk out, turning around to dig your head into Peter's chest in humiliation. Your boyfriend hugs you close, rubbing a hand on your back, and he's happy you can't hear Tony say "That girl seems too sweet to be having sex with your nephew." or his Aunt May's scoff of "Yeah until you come back home after a night with your friends and hear everything through those walls. She really knows how to talk dirty."

[hanasnx]

“ BETTER FIND A MOP, IT’S GETTIN’ STICKY IN THIS BITCH ” — peter parker.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: marvel rivals chad peter parker w yuri lowenthal’s legendary voice. a recipe for success. also this wouldn't be possible without this anon. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ dirty talk ノ explicit sexual content ノ p in v ノ finger sucking ノ biting ノ long cock peter agenda ノ suit + mask sex but mask comes off halfway thru so you can see his pretty face <3

“Yeah? Mmph—you like that—hm—baby?” PETER PARKER speaks between his sheathes, evidently getting lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him. So much so that dirty talk for this silver tongue is interrupted by his own unfocus. It blurs in and out from the overload of sensation between his legs. You can’t respond, brows furrowing as he wetly slithers in and out of you, the head of him brushing that spongy spot inside you every time he bottoms out.

You try your best, murmuring a weak yet eager, “Mhm, mhm,” Nodding your head even while his fingers are hooked on your lower jaw over your chin.

“Couldn’t wait, huh?” Peter asks rhetorically, a slight snicker sprinkled in as he watches you with as much awe as a mask can have. “Was like I was ambushed.” he muses, reminiscing over his entrance met with such welcoming open legs. His cock bucks in at the memory, and you cry out through your occupied mouth. The knuckles between your teeth get a squeeze, a nip, and he releases a burst of air. “Trying to bite me, honey?” The tone conveys a sense of disbelief but it’s pleasantly surprised, and his pace quickens. Choked moans shoot out of you as he fucks into you, his body weight pinning you down while your suspended legs bob from the movement. Your lips enclose apologetically over his gloved fingers, the wet felt fabric is foreign against your tongue when you circle around them. In a bout of curiosity, your tip traces the embossed texture of the web design around his knuckle, maintaining eye contact with his mask while you do it.

Your cheeks hollow out, sucking on his two fingers and he groans from low in his throat. It’s the kind of purr that sends a shudder down your spine, eyes rolling back as he slots in your lulling body. The sheer length of him causes an ache inside your core that arches your back, clutching onto the sheets for purchase as you brace the sharp pain for the brain-melting feeling of pulling out only to fuck back in. His other hand comes to hook under the hem of his mask, peeling it off of him, and his brown hair explodes out in an endearing mess. You can finally see that crooked grin.

He pivots your head for you by your mouth, resting his wrist on the mattress to hover over you properly. Faithfully, you keep those fingers in, and he rewards you by shoving them in deeper, the tips of them making you lurch with a gag. Once again, he reacts audibly in euphoric relief like he was waiting for you to do that. “Baby.” he says in that voice, and it’s like a prize. You erupt in full-body tingles, curling your toes as he openly mouths at your neck. The pad of his tongue flattens against your pulse point, and ends it in a hard bite, scraping his teeth against your skin. You keen, that coil in your belly going taut.

Drool seeps out of the corner of your mouth while you desperately suck his spit-soaked glove, pitiful whimperings spilling out of you while he fucks you into the mattress.

[waitimcomingtoo]

I’ll Cry If I Want To

Pairing: enemies to lovers!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: you get stood up on your birthday and Peter attempts to cheer you up despite your feud

Masterlist

Peter walked into the kitchen in the tower and was immediately greeted by a confetti popper exploding in his face followed by a tender kiss on the forehead from Tony.

“Oh, my. Good morning to me.” Peter smiled at the greeting.

“Damn it, Parker.” Tony groaned. “I thought you were my little girl.”

“Don’t feel bad, daddy. A lot of people confuse Peter for a little girl.” You said as you walked into the kitchen behind Peter. The two of you made eye contact and you gave him an innocent smile while he rolled his eyes at you.

“Ha ha.“ He said sarcastically and then hissed at you like a cat. You gave him a look as you walked over to your dad.

“Happy birthday, baby girl.” Tony said and pulled you into a long hug.

“Thank you, daddy.” You smiled and hugged him back.

“Thank you, daddy.” Peter said in a high pitched voice to mock you. You and Tony looked at him and he quickly cleared his throat.

“Sorry. What I meant to say was, happy birthday. I didn’t know that was today. I mean, I’d been wondering why you looked so old but I assumed it was from your lack of sunscreen use.”

“Nice try. I wear sunscreen everyday.” You replied.

“Really?” He gasped. “Might want to up that SPF a few. You look like a crumbled piece of paper and not in a fun Taylor Swift way.”

“Don’t talk to me about skincare, Rudolf.” You snapped and tapped your nose twice to point out the zit on the tip of Peter nose. He covered it with his hand and narrowed his eyes at you.

“Children, please. No fighting. It stops my moisturizer from sinking in.” Tony sighed and rubbed circles into his skin.

“Sorry, daddy. I just wanted to make sure Peter knew about the giant pimple on his nose in case he was going to see anyone today.” You said as you smiled sweetly at Peter. He discreetly flipped you off by scratching his cheek with his middle finger.

“Any plans for the night, jelly bean?” Tony asked you.

“Nothing crazy. My friends are coming over later for a sleepover.”

“Oh God. Is this gonna be one of those crazy parties where you all get drunk and things get out of hand and you accidentally kill someone and have to dispose of the body together while hijixs ensues?” Peter. whined.

“No, because this isn’t one of the pornos you watch.” You scoffed.

“Pfft. That is not what I watch.” He insisted. “Where would I even find something like that? What would I even type? I’m open to suggestions.”

“Shut up.” You laughed. “You’re such a weirdo. And don’t be hanging around when my friends are here. I already told them you’re a pervert and on the FBI watch list so you don’t have a chance with any of them.”

“I don’t want to date your freakbob friends anyway.” He scoffed. “And to keep it down tonight, will you? I already wake up the birds chirping every morning. I don’t want to hear you birds all night too.”

“I actually came up with a solution for that. What if you killed yourself?” You asked through a smile.

“That’s a great idea. I might give that a whirl today if I’m not busy.” He replied and matched your smile.

“You? Busy?” You laughed. “Please. Busy doing what?”

“Peter and I are gonna be in the lab doing boring stuff with the suits. Adjustments, additions, and what have you.” Tony answered you.

“Oh. Okay. Do you need any help?” You asked.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that on your birthday, baby girl. Peters got it.” Tony replied, making your smile falter a little.

“Yeah. I’ve got it.” Peter boasted and gave you a smug look. You glared at him for a moment before looking back at your dad.

“I’ll catch you later for some cake, okay honey bun?” Tony told you before kissing your forehead.

“Okay. Bye. Have fun.” You smiled sadly as he left the room.

“You look greasy, by the way.” Peter said once you were alone.

“Like I care what you think. Even your hairline won’t stay with you.” You scoffed and nodded towards his forehead.

“It’s not actually receding, is it?” He asked and touched his hair.

“Maybe your forehead is just getting bigger.” You shrugged and popped a grape in your mouth from the bowl on the table.

“Bite me.” He replied and stopped touching his hair.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You chuckled. “Isn’t that how you got your powers, spider boy?”

“Yup. What do you think would happen if you bite me? Would I be able to a do anything a total bitch can?” He wondered, making you pelt a grape at him. He caught it with ease and popped it into his mouth.

“Watch your mouth before I bring out the peppermint essential oils again.” You warned him.

“You wouldn’t.” He said quietly.

“Try me.” You shrugged. You stared at each other across the kitchen for a moment before Peter gave up.

“You win. Here’s your card. Happy birthday, gaylord.” He said as he handed you a homemade birthday card from his jeans pocket before quickly running out of the room. You rolled your eyes at him but smiled once he was gone and read the card. As annoying as you normally found him, you appreciated that he remembered your birthday. Inside the card was a crude drawing of the two of you fighting next to a drawing of a gift card to Planet Fitness.

Peter strolled into your bedroom around 10 pm when he had grown curious as to why your friends weren’t there yet. It was getting kind of late and you had listed many activities that you had planned to do while Peter begrudgingly listened to you talk earlier in the day. You were still in your room by yourself so he went in and knocked on your door to see what was happening.

“Hey dingus. When are your dumb friends getting here? I need to know when I should jam my ears with scissors.” Peter said as he leaned against your doorway. You were sitting on your bed with your knees draw to your chest and your chin resting on top of them as you stared out the window.

“Do that anyway.” You mumbled and didn’t move from your position.

“I’m going to. I can’t listen to you all yap about when Reputation TV is coming all night. And your friend Stacy’s theories are always way off.” He continued. You still didn’t turn to look at him and his smirk dropped when he heard a sniffle. He frowned and took a step into your room.

“Hello? I knew you were dumb but did you forget how to turn your neck or something?” He said to try to make you laugh. You stayed still and he craned his neck to try to see your face.

“Seriously though, when are they coming?”

“They’re not coming.” You said finally in a horse voice.

“Why? What happened? Did they finally realize you’re an annoying brat whose only redeeming quality is access to daddy’s credit card?” Peter teased in another attempt to make you laugh.

“Something like that.” You mumbled. Peter frowned and finally realized that something was actually wrong. He sat down on your bed and reached his hand out.

“Whats going on? Are you okay?” He asked in a soft voice.

“Just go away.” You said sadly and wiped tears from your face. Peter shot a web at a tissue box on your dresser and pulled it over.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what happened.” He said and handed you a tissue. You gave him a skeptical look and he held up one hand in defense while waving the tissue in the other like a white flag. You sighed and took the tissue before wiping your eyes.

“They found out it wasn’t a yacht party or at some fancy restaurant or some elitist club in Tribeca so they all cancelled.“ You said as you nervously ripped the tissue up in your hands.

“They cancelled? Why?”

“Because no one wants to come to my party. They want to come to a Stark Industries party with puppies in the gift bags and acrobats suspended from the ceiling and Avengers walking around like party clowns. Just hanging out with me wasn’t cool enough so they all bailed.” You sniffled and turned back to look out the window. Peter raised his hand to place it on your shoulder but then drew it back. He didn’t know if he was who you’d want to comfort you and he didn’t want to push it.

“I’m sorry.” He said instead.

“Like you care.” You laughed sadly and held your knees tighter to your chest.

“I do care.” He insisted. “And I’m very sorry this happened to you tonight.”

“No you’re not.” You scoffed. “You’re probably thrilled to see me like this. This is probably the greatest moment of your dumb life.”

“It’s not.” He said quietly. You finally whipped around to look at Peter and he saw the pain in your red eyes.

“It’s not? Look at me, Peter. I’m pathetic. I’m alone on my birthday because I wasn’t good enough for anyone to hang out with.” You exclaimed. Peter went quiet as you slowly caught your breath. You teased each other all the time but you’d never actually yelled at him before. You wiped your eyes with the tissue before staring at your hands.

“You were right.” You said quietly. “I am just a spoiled brat who people only like because of my connections. And I’m sure you’re anxiously waiting for me to shut up so you can say “I told you so” and prove to me once again that I’m always wrong.”

You and Peter sat in silence for a minute without looking at each other. Peter felt guilty that you were expecting him to kick you while you were down. You were feeling your own guilt for snapping at him when he was trying to be nice.

“I’m not gonna say that.” He said after a beat.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Just go away.” You said miserably and turned back to the window. Peter opened his mouth to say something but shut it when he couldn’t find the words. He patted your shoulder twice before getting up and leaving your room. You turned to look at the door once he was gone and felt yourself missing his presence. You turned back to the window and stared out at the night sky through your teary eyes and let time pass.

After a while, you started to smell something. You sniffed the air until you recognized it as the scent of a something burning. Out of sheer curiosity, you wrapped a blanket around your shoulders and padded into the kitchen. You found Peter in the kitchen with a lace trimmed pink apron tied around his waist and flour smeared on his cheek. You smiled in surprise and leaned against the wall to watch him for a minute. He was humming to himself a song you didn’t recognize while scrapping a burnt black lump of something into the trash can. When he finally turned around, he jumped when he saw you.

“Jesus. You scared me. But I guess I should’ve known the smell of something baking would have your big back running to the kitchen like I hit the bat signal.”

“Shut up.” You chuckled. “What are you doing in here?”

“Well, your parents went to a movie since they thought your friends would be here. That means no ones home.” Peter began.

“And?” You asked.

“And so I thought we could fulfill a lifelong fantasy of mine and making sweet love to you on the kitchen counter.” He smiled suavely and raised his eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?” Your jaw dropped as he drummed his fingertips on the counter.

“I’m joking. I’m clearly baking a bake. Or, I tried. I guess 500 degrees was too hot.” He said and looked at the burnt cake in the trash.

“Yeah, that’s a few hundred above what it should be. But why are you baking? We have a chef for that.”

“Because it’s your birthday you miserable bitch. And everyone deserves a cake baked with love. Now do you prefer chocolate or vanilla frosting on your burnt cake?” He asked and held up two cans of frosting. You looked between the two before your eyes settled on him. You hugged your blanket tighter around yourself and shook your head.

“I don’t want your pity.” You said quietly.

“You don’t have it so shut up and grab a spatula before I rescind your choice in the matter and funfetti the fuck out of this cake.” He replied and held out a spatula. You stared at it and felt compelled to take it and join him, but you were still throwing yourself a pity party.

“No.”

“No? Look, I’m trying to cheer your dumb ass up so can you please work with me here?” Peter sighed and looked at you. You stared at him for a while before cracking the slightest smile. He noticed the smile and knew he had succeeded in his plan to cheer you up.

“Fine. But I’m not eating that. That’s what Santa puts in the bad kids stockings. We’ll make a new one. But I’m not touching raw eggs.” You told him and grabbed your dad’s matching pink apron from the drawer.

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Princess.” Peter mumbled under his breath. You glared at him through your lashes as you threw some flour and sugar into a bowl. Peter went to put the butter in but you pushed his hand away.

“It can’t be cold butter or it won’t mix properly. It has to be room temperature.” You explained as you filled a measuring cup with water.

“Oh. Let’s pop it in the microwave then.”

“We can’t do that either. Then the hot butter will scramble the eggs. Do you want little egg bits in your cake?” You asked him as you microwaved the cup of water for a minute.

“Maybe just a little.” Peter replied as he watched you put the butter into a small bowl and then place the bowl on top of the microwaved water.

“There. This will soften the butter without making it hot enough to scramble the eggs.” You explained. He looked between your little invention and you for a minute before smiling.

“Wow. That was really smart.” He said genuinely. “Women really do belong in the kitchen.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes as you set the temperature to the correct heat on the oven. Peter couldn’t help but watch you over his shoulder as you combined the rest of the dry ingredients and expertly cracked an egg in one hand. He rarely got to see you like this, no makeup and in lounge clothes. And he definitely never saw you upset before. He was used to the perfectly groomed and standoffish version of yourself so this change of pace brought him unexpected joy.

“Move over. That’s not how you mix batter. You need to fold it.” You told him and reminded him of the you he knew. You bumped him with your hip and put your hands over his to help him fold the batter.

“Like laundry?” He asked as his cheeks heated up.

“Like you know what laundry is, Pigpen. And no. A different folding. Like this.” You said and helped him mix the batter until it was the desired consistency.

“Oh wow. That worked really well. I usually just go sicko mode until it turns into goop.” He confessed.

“And how does that work out for you?” You asked him.

“Look in the trash and you’ll find out.” Peter replied and eyed the burnt cake in the garbage can. You playfully rolled your eyes at him and kept helping him fold the batter. Everytime he tried to stir the batter, you gently corrected his hands to fold it instead.

“Why don’t you just do it?” He asked when he started getting frustrated with himself.

“Because you won’t learn if I do it.” You replied in a softer tone. Peter went quiet since you were being unexpectedly nice to him. You let the batter sit for minute once you were satisfied and then poured in into a cake pan.

“There. Thats gonna take about 30 minutes to bake and then it needs to cool before we frost it.” You told him as you shut the oven door.

“Oh, so we have 30 minutes? Then circling back to that making love on the counter idea-“

“Shut it.” You warned him. Peter pretended to zipper his lips and throw away the key. You cracked a smile before starting to clean up the kitchen. Peter wordlessly helped you tidy up and you exchanged a soft smile with each other in the silence of the kitchen.

“What was your worst birthday?” You asked after a long beat of silence.

“Are you talking to me?” Peter asked after looking around.

“Peter, we’re the only ones in the room.”

“Sorry. It’s not like you’ve ever asked me a personal question before. It’s usually “are you stupid?” or “can you go away?” or “do you need a tampon cry baby?” He recalled, making you feel bad for always being so mean to him.

“Oh. Sorry about that.” You said quietly. “I sound a lot meaner than I thought I was.”

“I’m mean too.” Peter shrugged.

“You tease me.” You shook your head. “I’m just cruel.”

“I think we are an equal amount of mean to each other. Don’t let it keep you up at night. I’m sure your chronic yeast infections do that enough.” Peter tried to lighten the mood, but you didn’t crack a smile. You seemed faraway in thought and he was curious as to why.

“Do you think I’m hard to be around?” You asked after a minute. Peter was about to crack another joke until he saw the look on your face. He could tell you needed a friend right now and was filled with determination to be one.

“No. I think those girls you called your “friends” are hard to be around.” He said seriously. “I’ve seen you with them. They’re the mean ones. Them bailing tonight has nothing to do with you. They’re a bunch of shallow jerks who only care about the material things in life. They don’t care about having deep connections with people. They only care about deep pockets on people. I know this isn’t the first time they’ve ditched you. And I know you feel alone even when they are here because you’re never fully included. You think no one notices because you tell stories about your charming adventures together but I see it in your eyes. They make you feel like an afterthought. You act tough and pretend it doesn’t bother you but I know that it does. You shouldn’t hang out with them anymore.”

“Then who am I going to hang out with?” You shrugged sadly. “Without them, I don’t have any friends.”

“Sitting alone is better than sitting at a table where you’re the topic of conversation when you get up.” Peter said simply. You stared at him for a moment before your eyes fell to the floor.

“I just don’t want to be alone.” You said quietly. Peter nodded his head in understanding and let a silence fall between the two of for a while. He was going to say that you wouldn’t be alone because you’d have him, but he didn’t know if you wanted to hear that.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked.

“No.” You said immediately. You made eye contact and you let out a sigh.

“Okay. Go ahead.”

“Why don’t you like me?” He asked without looking into our eyes. You saw that coming and stared at him to try and get a sense of what was going on in his head. He slowly looked back up at you and gave you a weak smile.

“Do you remember that time the power went out in the city due to that Max guy or whatever and we all lit candles and hung out in the tower?”

“Uh oh.” Peter gulped. “You answered my question with another question. That can’t be good.”

“Shut up. Do you remember or not?” You asked and gently kicked his foot with your foot.

“I remember that.” He told you and held your gaze.

“You were new around here. You had just gotten your powers that year so I didn’t really know you yet. I had gone to look for more candles and found you crying on the floor of the linen closet.

“I remember that.” He nodded. “It was all so overwhelming to be here with the whole team. I had never felt so small.”

“I know. I told you I felt like that too sometimes. And then we stayed up for hours talking about every stupid thing we ever worried about and gave each other advice. I think at one point I gave you advice on how much conditioner to use.” You said as you replayed the night in your memory. You had a look on your face that Peter had never seen on you before. It was natural and relaxed and playful, all things he knew to be the opposite of you. It was so rare that the two of you were getting along and he didn’t want to do anything to ruin in.

“A dime sized amount and not on the roots. I still use that advice.” He chuckled. “You were so nice to me that night. You came in and pretended I wasn’t crying so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed. You just sat down with me and started talking ad if we’d always been friends. You quieted all my fears that night. I was initially so embarrassed about it but then I felt a lot better knowing someone had my back no matter how bad I messed up.”

“I always had your back.” You insisted. “Even when I was mean to you. If you were in trouble with my dad, I was always here talking him down and trying to get him to see your side. He sees you through the lense of his child that he doesn’t want hurt but I’ve always seen you as a hero who wants to help. I even got him to give you the suit back when you were 15. And it was my idea to put the warmers in because you told me you’re always cold.”

“Really? You were rooting for me this whole time?” He cracked a smile in surprise.

“Yeah.” You shrugged. ���Always.”

“Then how come you act like…” Peter trailed off in fear of insulting you.

“Like what?” You asked, sounding like you already knew what was coming.

“Like you hate me.” He admitted. You felt your face burn in embarrassment and shook your head.

“I don’t hate you.” You said sheepishly.

“You don’t?” He asked in genuine surprise. You looked at him and he could see the guilt in your eyes even in the dim light of the kitchen.

“No. I don’t. I never did.”

“Then how come we don’t get along anymore?” He asked. He had only gone along with all the teasing since you began it, but he had always wondered why it started.

“One of the things we had talked about that night was how my one regret about being homeschooled was never getting to experience a prom. I told you had dreamed of it since I was a little girl and it broke my heart to know I’d never have one. So then you said…” You trailed off, thinking he’d remember what he told you. His face showed no sign of remembering it but he racked his brain anyway.

“I said what?” He asked, breaking your heart just a little more.

“You promised to take me. To yours.” You told him. You and Peter stood in silence for a moment before he burst out laughing. Your sadness immediately hardened into anger at the sound of him laughing at you.

“Wait, you’ve been pissy towards me for the last few years because I broke a promise I made at 15 years old and didn’t take you to a stupid school dance?” Peter asked through a laugh. You glared at him for his reaction and he immediately stopped when he noticed you weren’t laughing too.

“Oh. We’re not laughing?” He asked.

“Why is that funny to you?” You snapped. Peter saw the moment slipping away from him and started to panic.

“Well I was- I was a kid.” He said simply. “I had a huge crush on this girl Liz and we were finally becoming friends so I asked her and she said yes. That was years after I promised you that. I’m sorry but I didn’t remember.”

Peter thought you were going to yell at him and hurl a parade of insults his way, but you just nodded your head and looked down at the ground.

“You’re right. We were just kids. Forget I said anything.” You mumbled and started walking towards the door to leave. Peter knew he had messed up big time and possibly just killed any and all chances of the two of you becoming friends.

“Wait.” He said desperately just as the kitchen timer went off. You stopped walking and watched him haphazardly take the cake out of the oven and throw it in the stove top as he blew on it.

“You should stay. We have to frost it.” He said with a weak smile and an even weaker attempt for you for stay.

“You can’t frost it while it’s hot. It’ll slip right off.” You said without looking at him.

“Oh. I didn’t know that. Well then do you want to talk some more or-“

“I have to go.” You cut him off and swiftly left the kitchen.

You went back to your room to resume the pouting you had started earlier. You felt guilty about walking out on Peter but it had hurt you to know that a promise that had meant a lot to you didn’t even stay in his memory. You stared out the window and sulked as you thought yourself into a deep rut. It didn’t take long for Peter to start making noise in the kitchen, interrupting your thought spiral. You heard things falling out of cabinets followed by Peter swearing. He bumbled around for a while and slowly drove you crazy with all the noise he was making until you couldn’t take it anymore. Just when you were about to text him and tell him the knock it off, you heard the dulcet sounds of “The Dancing Queen” coming from downstairs. You groaned in frustration and got out of bed to go downstairs and see what was happening.

When you got to the living room, Peter was standing there in one of your dad’s suits that hugged him a little too tightly around his muscles. The room looked like it had been decorated by a child with poorly hung streamers, ripped up construction paper to act as confetti, and bunches of webs that Peter had tried to shape into stars and moons. He had dimmed the lights and put a single bowl of chips on the counter, which he proudly stood beside.

“What the hell is this?” You asked him.

“Will you go to prom with me?” He asked with a huge smile.

“No.” You said immediately. “Please kill yourself.”

“I will.” He promised. “After one dance.”

“I’m not dancing with you. I’m not doing any of this.” You told him and turned to leave. You heard a “pst” right before feeling a web hit your back. Before you knew it, Peter tugged on the web and sent you stumbling back into Peter’s arms. He caught you with ease and winked when you landed in his arms. You rolled your eyes at him but felt a smile tugged at your lips.

“Please? Just one dance? Then I’ll let you go and hate me for the rest of your life.” He pleaded as he stared into your eyes. He looked so desperate that you found yourself nodding before you knew what you were agreeing to. He smiled in excitement and twirled you around before slowly swaying to the beat. You begrudgingly sighed and wrapped your arms around his neck while his stayed in a respectable place on your hips. You could feel his eyes on you but you kept yours on the ceiling.

“You can look at me, you know.” He teased, making you begrudgingly look him in the eyes.

“Oh. I almost forgot.” He smiled and pulled something out of his pocket. You looked down and saw a few poorly drawn flowers webbed to a rubber band.

“Your corsage, my lady.” He said as he slipped it onto your wrist.

“This is so stupid.” You laughed but secretly loved the thought he put into everything.

“It’s about to get even more stupid. Wait here.” He asked and quickly ran into the kitchen. He returned with one of Morgan’s plastic tiaras with a big fake gem in the center.

“Every prom needs its queen.” He said as he placed the crown on your head. You made eye contact as he stepped forward to adjust it and you felt your breath catch in your throat from how close he was.

“You didn’t have to do this.” You said quietly.

“Yes I did. I owed you a prom experience. I’m sorry I didn’t take you the first time. And I’m sorry for laughing at you. You just caught me off guard. I have spent many nights thinking of all the things I could have done to make you hate me. I genuinely forgot about that promise. I had no idea this entire time that you hated me because of prom.” He said as the two of you started swaying to the music again. You felt a feeling rise up in your chest, a feeling you hadn’t felt for Peter in many years.

“It wasn’t just the prom.” You admitted before you could think about it.

“It wasn’t? What else did I do? Did I hotbox the elevator with you in it or something?” He asked. “I did that to Wanda once and now she’ll show up in my dreams sometimes and make me pee the bed.”

“That’s disgusting.” You said flatly. “But no. It wasn’t that.”

“Then what?” He wondered.

“It’s stupid. You’ll just laugh again.”

“No I won’t.” He assured you. “Probably. I’ll definitely try really hard not to.

“Come on. Please tell me.” He pleaded and gave your hip a gentle squeeze. “You have to tell me now or I’ll become so annoying so quickly. I’ll be worse than those people who try to describe SNL skits to you and keep explaining even when it’s clearly only funny if you’re watching it.”

“I can’t tell you. It’s dumb anyway. Forget I said anything.” You said and hoped he’d drop it.

“It can’t be that dumb if it stood between us all these years. What, did you have a crush on me or something?” He laughed through his question. You went quiet and Peters eyes went wide.

“Oh shit. Did you have a crush on me?” He asked in a soft voice. You looked down at the ground to avoid having to look him in the eyes now that you were caught.

“I don’t know.” You sighed. “You were my age and had these cool powers and muscles and unexpected sense of humor. I was homeschooled and had swiped to the end of Tinder. You were my only option.”

“Oh. I see. So you only liked me because I was the only choice?” He said through a laugh but it hurt him. You could sense in his voice that you had just hurt his feelings and for once, that wasn’t what you wanted.

“I mean, not the only choice.” You added. “Cap used to hang around a lot more and he’s not the worst looking. But he’s like 500 so I never really had a chance.”

“Why me, then?” He wondered. You finally looked in to his eyes and shrugged a little.

“Because you were kind.” You admitted. “You didn’t need to take on as much as what you did at such a young age but you refused to do the easy stuff. You used to drive my dad crazy with how for you begged for assignments. You were so determined to get out there and save people, it was almost obnoxious. You were never content getting back stolen bikes. You always wanted to protect people from the big things. Even when you were just a kid. I liked that about you. I still do.”

“Still?” He gulped. “Even now?”

Before you could respond, the slow music that was playing ended and “Munch” started to blast from Peter phone. He scrambled to change the song but the moment had already been ruined.

“Sorry about that. I don’t know who put that on my playlist.” He quickly lied.

“It was you.”

“It was me, yeah.” He admitted and hung his head in shame. You stopped dancing and slowly withdrew your arms from him, making his heart sink.

“This was really sweet. Thank you, Peter.” You said genuinely. “I should probably get to bed now. I just want this day to end.”

“But we haven’t frosted the cake yet. It’s still your birthday. You can’t go to bed without any cake.” He said in a desperate attempt to get you to stay.

“I don’t know. It’s late.”

“Come on. It’ll be fast. That’s one of my powers. Spider can frost cake really fast and so can I.” He said and rushed over to the cake. He held it up and gave you a lopsided smile, convincing you to stay.

“Fine. Let’s make it fast.” You agreed and walked over to him. He smiled at you joining him and got out the frosting. He handed you a spatula and you started to frost the cake.

“You don’t have to keep wearing that if you don’t want.” Peter chuckled and went to take your crown off. You quickly swatted his hand and adjusted your crown.

“Back off. It’s mine.” You said and stepped away from him. He chuckled again and you laughed too.

“I really do appreciate everything you did for me tonight. I hope I can make it up to you one day.” You told him.

“You can make it up to me right now if we clear off this counter top and-“

“No.” You cut him off.

“Worth a try.” He mumbled.

“Really, though. You cheered me up tonight and I didn’t think that was possible.”

“In a way, I’m glad your stupid friends cancelled on you. It gave us an opportunity to spend time together. And this was the least I could do for not taking you to my real prom. Which was total buns, by the way. I missed most of it because I was putting my dates dad in jail.”

“Well I’m glad that didn’t happen tonight.” You laughed softly.

“Me either. I wish I took you to the first one. We could have been friends this whole time if I had just remembered my promise.” He sighed.

“It’s fine. It was a long time ago. I’m done moping about it. I’m ready to eat this cake and be friends from now on.”

“I’m ready for that too.” He smiled at you. “Especially the part about us being friends. But also for this cake because it’s kinda giving me a boner from how good it smells.”

“It does smell really good. I can’t even blame your boner. But if that thing even looks at me you’re getting impromptu gender reassignment surgery with this spatula.”

“Ouch.” He chuckled and looked over at you. He didn’t stop looking at you until you felt his eyes on you.

“What?” You laughed shyly.

“I can’t believe you ever liked me. And that this whole time, I had no idea. I am so not cool enough for a girl like you to like.”

“Yeah, well. It wasn’t like I dropped any hints.”

“Maybe not. It just doesn’t feel real. I wouldn’t believe it even if you weren’t always mean to me. You reciprocating my feelings was not something I ever thought would happen.”

“Reciprocating? You liked me too?” You asked as your mouth went dry.

“Are you kidding? You’re my mentors insanely hot and totally off limits daughter. Of course I liked you. Not to mention you’re funny, smart, good with a screwdriver and the apparently my biggest supporter. Though you did it in secret. Make no mistake, birthday girl. I had the biggest crush on you for years. Even when you were being mean to me.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.” You said quietly. You had your back to him as you washed your hands but you could feel his eyes on you. You peaked over your shoulder and sure enough, Peter’s eyes were locked on you. You gulped and turned back around when you heard him walking over to you.

“You know, as mean as your insults were, they were always clever. And you always looked good saying them. How could I not fall for you?” He said as he came up behind you. He was close enough that you could smell his cologne, along with a scent that was just distinctly Peter, making your heart pound in your ears. You turned around and leaned against the counter as you looked into his eyes.

“Well how do you feel now?” You asked with unwavering eye contact.

“I feel like those feelings never left.” He admitted. You had never heard such confidence in his voice and it was just the thing to tip the scales back in his favor.

“Hm. Interesting.” You shrugged and turned back around. It was almost like you could hear the disappointment in the air once you had your back to him again. You decided not to torture him forever and give in to what you both wanted.

“Peter?” You asked and looked over your shoulder at him.

“Yeah?”

“Clear the countertop.”

Tag List 🏷️

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@ciarahollands

@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

[cherienymphe]

Basic Training XVIII

Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, mentions of MURDER/violence/kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

What had once been a great fear of yours had turned into something akin to a comfort.

The basement was a lot of things—dark, isolating, and creepy to name a few—but in the weeks that you’d been exiled to it’s suffocating walls, you slowly found solace in being left with nothing but your solitude and your thoughts. At least it felt that way. In truth, you didn’t feel much of anything at all and had grown content in that feeling.

Or lack thereof.

The days blended together until it was one long endless stretch of darkness, and it gave you so much time to think. You thought about every decision that had landed you here, all the way from your first conscious memory to that fateful day when you and your friends stopped in some seemingly unassuming town for food. If you thought about it too hard, you could feel a chill creeping over your still form.

Lingering on the day your friends were murdered threatened to put you back in that headspace you’d been in when you were first brought to this house. Your breathing would become shallow at the memory of your erratic emotions and your inability to hold your bodily fluids and the time you’d nearly lost your mind at the mere sight of blood.

You had quite literally lost your mind.

You’d been driven insane by the abuse you’d suffered and had been forced to witness, mind shattering and falling apart from the actions of the same person tasked with putting it back together in whatever manner benefited him. Peter had torn you down and built you back up like some demented caregiver and despite the fact that you knew this—recognized this—you were essentially powerless to do anything about it.

You were in too deep, this was your life now, and such a thought was both comforting and suffocating. On the one hand, you knew what was in store for you. The rest of your days were laid out before you so meticulously, a breakdown of what every single day would be like for the rest of your life. In a way…it was relieving to think that you’d never have to expend any more effort into planning a single thing about your life ever again.

…but in the same breath, that was so tragic.

The excitement of possibilities and opportunities was something you’d never feel again. You’d never have that wonder about what the next day or month or even year would bring. You briefly recalled fleeting thoughts of grad school once and possibly living abroad for a while. Peter would never allow that, and even if he wanted to, Steve would never allow him to even consider the thought.

This was your life now.

Such a simple sentence brought on far too many emotions for you to handle, and so you didn’t. Handle them, that is. You didn’t feel anything and it didn’t just start and end with the complexities of your heart. You didn’t feel the pillow beneath your head nor the thin sheets over your frame. You didn’t even feel the shift in the room when someone—no doubt Margaret or Christine—opened the door and descended the stairs to bring you food.

Surely you ate.

You were still alive, after all, but you didn’t recall eating. Truth be told, you didn’t even recall bathing or using the bathroom. If you thought long and hard about it—struggling with your memory so much that it made you frown in the darkness—you could recollect brief flashes of memories that painted a picture.

Sharon’s worried face before you as she held some orange juice in front of your face, Margaret standing in front of you in the bathroom, tone pleading as she encouraged you to empty your bladder, and even Tony and Pepper standing over your bed as Pepper said something to him, her stricken expression clear even in hazy memories.

The days and everything that happened in them blended together so seamlessly that it all started to feel like a dream. How funny it was that you once feared the basement so much it was enough to give you a panic attack, and now that you were down here you felt the calmest you’d ever felt in months. You felt unreal—untouchable even in a way—and it wasn’t long before you forgot that this wasn’t meant to be forever.

You forgot that a day would come where Peter would come down—likely with Steve in tow—and tell you that your punishment was over and you could finally rejoin him amongst the world above ground. You didn’t know how you felt about that, and you found yourself wondering if you even wanted that.

Of course, you wanted that.

You couldn’t live in darkness and solitude forever, but stepping out of this room meant going back to the problems the basement currently shielded you from. When you stepped through that threshold again, Steve and Bucky and all of the other husbands would likely still be upset with you with the mentioned being more cross than the others. You would have to step back into an atmosphere where you weren’t trusted—again—and you’d have to earn it all back…again.

You supposed you still had friends in the wives, but who was to say. Yes, you’d remained silent when you witnessed Nat escape, but you had a feeling that someone like Margaret likely wouldn’t agree with what you did. You recalled a conversation you had with her once about the needs and sanctity of the house coming first. Allowing one of the wives to escape and possibly ruin everything wasn’t exactly in line with that.

Nat didn’t seem upset with you, at all the last time you saw her, but you didn’t truly know verbatim what Peter had said to Bucky to get him to take her out of the basement. Sure, he could’ve insinuated that keeping her down here and punishing her in a harsh manner after they’d been trying for a baby wasn’t smart, but he also could have flat out said to him that according to you, Nat thinks she's pregnant.

You only wanted to save her, and while you liked to think she’d understand if she knew you told Peter, you also weren’t so sure. You weren’t sure of a lot of things anymore, and your uncertainty about so much—the result of whatever truth you thought you were living being turned upside down—made you retreat into yourself even more.

“Y/N, you need to eat something…”

The familiar voice faintly reached your ears, and as you slowly turned your head, you thought to yourself that you hadn’t even heard Margaret open the door and walk down the stairs. She was staring at you with an expression you couldn’t quite name, and it was only after some time did you register the weight in your lap.

Your gaze landed on a tray of food, and as appetizing as the toast and eggs and sausage looked, you had no desire to eat. You felt lucid for the first time in ages, and you slowly blinked before shaking your head. The words to tell her you weren’t hungry were on the tip of your tongue, but the redhead spoke before you could find your voice.

“You barely ate anything yesterday. And the day before…and the day before,” she breathed. “Steve wants to see an empty plate.”

You blinked again at that, and despite the fact that she was repeating Steve’s words, you could see her own concern in her eyes. You struggled to recall just how long you’d been down here and just how many plates you’d barely touched. You couldn’t recall, and despite the nagging at the back of your mind, you couldn’t bring yourself to want to eat.

Even so, you and Margaret knew better than anyone how Steve could be, and so you slowly reached out for a piece of toast.

“I’ll eat,” was all you said.

She seemed relieved as she left you—albeit reluctantly—and you nibbled on the bread in your hand. The taste of it on your tongue made your stomach twist, and you put the rest of it back down without thinking. You had every intention of finishing it later, but once your food was set aside, all you wanted to do was sleep.

Your sleep wasn’t dreamless, and it rarely ever was. Sometimes you dreamt of your mom and your friends and your life before Peter took you for himself like some villain. Those dreams served nothing more than to torment you, and you often woke from them with tears in your eyes, vision blurry even in the darkness.

More often than not though, you dreamt of Peter and your life here. Sometimes it was awful nightmares about Steve—and even Bucky sometimes—where his handsome face was contorted in that perpetual frown it always seemed to be in when he laid eyes on you. Only it would be so much worse.

Your brain liked to conjure up visions of him where he was absolutely murderous, and it was no secret as to why. There’d been the brief moment here and there where you wondered if Steve would just say ‘to hell’ with all of his rules and get rid of you—in the most violent and dismissive fashion—and force Peter to find a sane wife. 

A better one.

That left a bitter taste in your mouth…and you hated it.

You liked to think that the thought of Peter with someone else only upset you because you didn’t think any woman deserved to be subjected to this. You liked to think that righteously and noble of yourself, but the truth was much more demented and depraved and twisted. No woman did deserve any of this, that was true, but the thought of Peter loving someone else made your stomach churn.

You could say it until you were blue in the face that this wasn’t love—it couldn’t be—but it didn’t change how you felt. You couldn’t fathom the thought of being tossed aside and replaced, and being replaced by someone better would only add insult to the injury. It wasn’t fair that they got to break you until there was hardly anything left only to cast you aside because they didn’t like the inevitable results of their choices.

The thought made you want to be sick.

Peter would never, and you knew without a doubt that he would never, but for all that he put you through, the least he could do was remain by your side and look after you forever. Something deep within you hated him so much for what he did—the dark-haired man worse than you initially thought him to be—but a larger part, the part that had been carefully put back together by him, only wanted him to show an endless display of apologies for the rest of your days.

You deserved that.

You deserved to be free, but that was never happening, and as it were, could you even function properly if you were allowed to walk off of this property tomorrow? Your mind didn’t work the way it did before you were brought here. It had been taken apart and scrambled and replaced with one that wasn’t your doing. You feared that you would never be able to function right again, and who would want you?

Who would want you besides Peter?

You were an abused, broken, and genuinely unwell mess…and Peter loved you for it…in his own way. You could see it in his eyes whenever he looked at you that the thought of losing you would send him over the edge, and you knew you felt the same, but you were sure it was for entirely different reasons. At this point in your life…what were you without Peter?

When you weren’t dreaming of your friends and family, and when you weren’t conjuring up nightmares of a familiar blond, you were dreaming about the man who put you into this mess. Sometimes you dreamt about who he actually was and in those dreams there was no doubt about his motives and his actions and you felt the appropriate fear when staring into his eyes.

…but more often than not you dreamt about the man he manipulated you into loving. You dreamed about welcoming him home from work and kissing him and touching him. You dreamed about the days where he simply held you as you cried, conveniently ignoring that he was the reason for your tears. In this house of horrors, Peter was your safe place, and you knew that was purposely done, but again, you felt powerless to do anything about it.

It shouldn’t be that way, but your only other choice was to spend the rest of your days in torment.

“She hasn’t eaten properly in weeks,” the soft words reached your ears, and you knew they weren’t meant for you.

There was a beat of silence, and as you were slowly gripped by consciousness, you took note of the smell of food. It didn’t tempt you, and you almost turned your head away.

“Do you think it’s because of Peter?”

Jane.

You absentmindedly wondered why she was down here and not resting. You hated to think that she’d come down here just to check in on you when she should’ve been looking after herself. You felt her hand on your head.

“She hasn’t seen him in a month…and we know how she—how they can get…”

You squeezed your eyes tight at that, heart aching for the first time in forever at those words. Had it been that long already? Had you really gone a month without seeing him, talking to him, touching him? Was that the cause of this…numbness? You were sure Peter wasn’t the only factor here, but you couldn’t deny that you missed him. You weren’t used to being without him, and this was the longest you’d ever gone without being with him since you first woke up in this house.

…but you knew that this was as much of a punishment for him as it was for you.

What if he didn’t miss you at all? What if you were in hell while each day only brought him more peace not having to be around the crazy one? That thought made your heart ache more, and for a brief moment, you never wanted to see him again.

“Steve only thinks it’s been a handful of times, but she’s not eating. At first, we weren’t too alarmed, especially considering…”

You placed Margaret’s voice now as she trailed off.

“...but then every tray just went basically untouched, and she’s lost a lot of weight. I think we need to tell Steve to contact Dr. Banner.”

You recalled a familiar face with glasses and dark hair.

“She doesn’t use the bathroom every day either. She mostly sleeps,” the redhead added.

“Have you mentioned this to Peter?”

“So he can come barging down here and start a whole other thing with Steve? They’ve only just settled back into being civil with one another. If Peter finds out she’s like this…”

Margaret scoffed, and you detected the unease in her tone.

You had never thought about the aftermath that followed your punishment and how it might have affected things upstairs. You had never thought to, you supposed. You had just assumed that Peter would fall in line with what Steve wanted as usual. After all, no matter how you felt about what you’d done, the household—or more importantly the husbands—did not agree. You’d broken their rules, and rules were rules.

It had never occurred to you that this whole ordeal—and you being at the center of it—might cause friction between Peter and Steve.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of your name, and you were loathed to admit that it took so much of your strength to open your eyes. Jane was as pregnant as ever and glowing, and she gave you a small smile when your gazes met.

“Do you want to try eating something today?

Her tone was light, but you detected a hint of pleading.

Your gaze shifted, and you looked at the tray of food in Margaret’s hands. You eyed it, wanting to eat for their peace of mind if nothing else, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You swallowed, and Jane must have seen the guilt and conflict in your eyes.

“It’s okay,” she assured you. “You don’t have to.”

You didn’t miss Margaret’s look.

“We’ll leave it here, and you eat when you’re ready.”

She touched your face, and with a few lingering looks, they left you.

It wasn’t long before you dozed off again, but it wasn’t a deep sleep, and you drifted in and out of consciousness. It felt like no matter how much you slept, you just couldn’t shake the feeling of being exhausted. Exhausted, not tired. Your whole body seemed to ache, and you dreaded the moment you’d have to get up and shower.

The next time you were even halfway lucid, you felt a hand at your back and a spoon at your lips. On instinct, you turned your head away, but the person’s hand was firm.

“None of that. You need something on your stomach,” the voice was just as firm as the grip, and it was comfortingly familiar.

Your eyes widened a bit at the familiar face, and you unintentionally parted your lips, allowing her to give you a taste of broth. It took you by surprise, and you coughed a bit, but swallowed it nonetheless. Nat gave you another spoonful, and so in shock at her presence, you accepted it.

“Sharon’s supposed to be in my place…but…Steve and Bucky are at work,” she shrugged, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of her. “...and I had to see you.”

For the first time in a month or so, you felt…something. For a brief moment, your perpetual numbness had lifted, and you both spoke at the same time.

“I’m sorry.”

It was said by two different voices, but it echoed as one.

“You’re sorry…?” Confusion filled you. “Why are you sorry?”

Your voice was small and unsure, and Nat looked so like you were unused to seeing her. She was normally so strong and fierce—a great source of envy for you—but now she looked sad…and regretful.

“You felt more obligated to protect me than yourself…and had I thought for a moment that you’d see me…I never would’ve left.”

Your shoulders fell at that, and you hated that Nat felt…guilty over your predicament. Your own choices had led you here, and that was what you told her after clearing your throat.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I thought the best thing that could happen was I’d get help and we’d all leave this place…and the worst was that I’d get dragged back,” she fed you more broth. “Not once had I considered that someone else would get dragged into my mess.”

You didn’t quite know how to respond, because after all, you didn’t really agree with her. You hadn’t felt obligated to do anything. It seemed like a no brainer to you to not say that you saw her that night. It was never even a question, never even a consideration to tell Peter Nat had escaped.

You swallowed, only taking a tiny sip when she offered you another spoonful. The green-eyed woman frowned at that.

“Nat…”

The words were on the tip of your tongue, but she merely shook her head.

“Bucky was practically ready to flog me for leaving him,” she lightly said despite the severity of the topic. “When they threw me down in here, I was prepared for it. Even with my possible delicate condition.”

Your eyes met hers, and she sent you a crooked smile.

“I knew only one person could talk them out of whatever they prepared to do to me…and I knew there was only one thing you could say that would change their minds…” you bit your lip at that. “Thankfully, I thought wrong, but even if I was pregnant, I’d still understand why you did it.”

She gave a small, bitter laugh.

“I may not have agreed with it nor been the biggest supporter of that decision…but I get it,” she shrugged. “After they found out what you did, I think I was scared for you more than I’d ever been scared for anyone…and I imagine that’s what you’d felt like.”

Your gaze found the sheet on your legs.

“If I had known something that could save you too, I might’ve done the same.”

When she offered you more broth, you sadly shook your head. A look passed over her features at that, and her face fell. She set the spoon back in the bowl with a small sigh before standing.

“I had to check on you,” she told you. “They said you haven’t been eating, and I didn’t realize how bad it was…”

You noticed the way she eyed you, and you suddenly had the urge to find a mirror. She set the bowl down, and she looked unsure about it.

“I’m going to leave this here. Just in case…” she trailed off, a bout of worry crossing her features. “I’ll come check on you again when I can.”

You nodded at her words, but the shock from Nat’s presence and the few sips of broth had taken more energy than you cared to focus on, and you were already sliding back down in bed.

It took her a long time to climb the stairs and shut the door behind her.

It could’ve been days later when you heard the low timber of a voice that wasn’t wholly familiar to you. It scratched some part of your brain, but not enough for you to pinpoint where you’d heard the tone before. Unfamiliar fingers were prodding at your face and neck, and the feel had you frowning in your semi consciousness. 

The man hummed to himself.

He was speaking, but you were in and out of sleep, so you couldn’t tell—nor cared—if he was speaking to you or someone else whose presence you weren’t aware of. A voice spoke back, and both sounded so muffled and far away to you.

You felt those same fingers on other parts of your body, as well as cold metal, and the intense temperature against your warm skin made you jolt a bit. You pushed at the hand, but a voice shushed you, but it didn’t sound close enough to have the intended soothing effect. Words were exchanged again, but you were already falling back asleep.

It was a dreamless sleep, the first in a long time, and it made the passage of time feel like a blink.

A voice so hauntingly and achingly familiar to you reached your ears, and you thought you were dreaming.

“I don’t give a fuck about what Steve would’ve wanted. His wife is healthy and coherent and probably getting ready to give him another Goddamn baby,” the voice hissed, interrupting a smaller more feminine one. “She’s been like this for weeks, and no one said a word to me.”

“Peter-.”

“Dr. Banner should’ve been here weeks ago. I should’ve known about this weeks ago. I should have seen her weeks ago…!”

Sleep was pulling you back in again, and the louder the voice got, the more it started to fade. The wrathful pitch grew higher and higher but also fainter and fainter until it was gone entirely, and sleep welcomed you again.

Your mind was struggling to put pieces together, and in your sleep, you thought to yourself that those words sounded like they came from some demented doppelganger, the tone sounding so much like Peter but not at the same time. You had never heard him so angry, and a voice in your head convinced you that you dreamt it, used to a sweet disposition from your dark captor, the dichotomy of which never failed to throw you into greater mental turmoil.

When your senses came to you again, you felt stronger than you had in probably two months at this point. You weren’t entirely sure, completely confused by the passage of time. The basement smelled different, and even the bed felt different, but as you shifted, you understood why.

The numbness that you had started to find comfort in was gone, and you could feel the bed and pillows and sheets beneath you…and they felt familiar. Too familiar. They felt like home. They felt like the place where you’d spent hours in Peter’s arms and hours sleeping and hours accepting the affections of the man who’d kidnapped you.

You thought you might have conjured the feeling up, but then you inhaled, and Peter’s scent filled your nose, and you thought of the nights he’d slept here alone in your absence. The faintest of touches disturbed the back of your hand, so featherlight that you could almost ignore it, but the slight pressure in your chest wouldn’t let you.

When you opened your eyes, his face was the first thing you saw.

His hair was a little longer, a little curlier and brushing his ears, and his face was as pretty as ever, but the dark circles beneath his eyes betrayed his sleepless nights. Had you the strength to move, you would’ve reached out to touch them.

Peter was knelt beside the bed you shared and his hand was in yours and his brown eyes lit up at the sight of your own. His face shifted so suddenly and seamlessly that you would've sworn he’d been smiling at your sleeping face this entire time instead of with that pinched brow and clenched jaw you’d been initially met with.

“Hey,” he softly and slowly greeted, dragging the word out in a whisper. “...my pretty girl.”

You swallowed, blinking a few times before briefly glancing around to confirm you were where you thought you were. Your gaze caught onto the medical equipment by the bed, blinking at the bag two feet above you with unidentifiable liquid in it. You absentmindedly reached up with your free hand as you traced the direction of the tube.

“Hey, hey,” Peter softly admonished, taking your other hand too. “Don’t touch it.”

You looked down at the feeding tube going into your chest, and you felt your heart skip a beat. Confusion filled you, and you were just about to speak when Peter let one of your hands go to take your chin instead. Still in the process of escaping sleep, you could only blink at him, a million questions running through your mind that you didn’t have the capability to voice.

“You’re really weak and…you haven’t been eating,” you watched his face as he said this, and you took note of the dark shadow that passed over his features, and you thought to yourself that perhaps you hadn’t dreamt that interaction at all. “Dr. Banner gave you that because you need to eat.”

Peter appeared to get choked up, and your eyes widened a tad. Sniffing, he rose a bit to press his lips to yours, fingers brushing over your cheek.

“You need to eat, you need all your strength,” you felt his tears on your face. “...because we’re going to have a baby.”

He pulled away only enough to look into your eyes, his own looking between them as he spoke.

“My pretty girl is going to have a baby,” he whispered more to himself than you. “...and you want her to be healthy and fat, don’t you?”

His thumb brushed over your lips, but it was hard to focus on anything he said after ‘baby’.

“I need you both healthy,” he said, voice cracking, and he kissed you again. 

His arms circled around you, and you felt his wet face fall to rest against your neck and shoulder. He kissed the skin there that peeked through above the large shirt, his whispered happy words reaching your ear.

“My baby’s having a baby.”

[iridescentparkers]

lessons in sexting ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

warnings: very suggestive! (18+)

“PETER!” you exclaimed, and he dropped inside of your bedroom window. You lay on your shared bed where you once waited for him to arrive. He yanked off his mask and crawled between your legs, quickly placing his hand along your waist and head buried in your chest. “What’s wrong?”

“I can never go outside again,” he muffled, turning his face to the side as he remained on your chest. 

“What are you talking about?”

He dug around in his pocket before grabbing his phone and scrolling to find a picture of himself. Lying down, his sight refused to meet yours as his head remained turned to the side, and he raised his phone to your face. “Read the text.” 

The photo was quite…shameful. In the photo, the phone was angled downwards towards the bottom half of his thin, sweaty suit. Peter was unbelievably hard and gripping his erection above the material. The upper half of the photo showed Peter’s teeth gripping his mask, drippings of sweat falling down his face. Underneath it was a text that read, “Baby, I miss you <3” 

“I didn’t get this text-” 

“Look up,” he murmured, and you moved your eyes to see that he sent it to Harry. You couldn’t help but laugh, Peter then groaned into your body and placed his hands on his face. 

“Is business rough these days? I didn’t realize Spiderman offered this kind of service.” You laughed, slamming his phone down on the bed. 

“Please.” he began, “He hasn’t responded 'cause it's late but I know he will never let this die.” 

“I don’t know if I will either!” 

“I missed, you!” He exclaimed. “It was getting boring and hot in that suit.”

“If it helps,” you whispered, running your fingers through his unkempt hair. “You looked good.”

“Really good?” He murmured, moving his eyes up to your face before placing kisses on the top of your breasts.

“Mmm hmm,” you hummed, nodding as Peter moved to hover above your body, placing you beneath him as he kissed you deeply. “Really good.”

[skywalkerslvt]

Sticky- Peter Parker x AFAB!Reader

❥Pairing: Peter Parker x AFAB!reader

❥CW: smut, p in v, sub peter, inappropriate use of web shooters, riding, 826 words

❥Summary: You find one of peter's sensitive spots while riding him (his wristussy)

❥a/n: This fanart inspired this fic 🤭This was written with Tobey's spiderman in mind cuz of the natural web shooters but it can be read as any of them as long as u keep the web shooters in mind!! Hope u enjoy this mini fic i wrote <3 pics are from pinterest

Peter's breath came in ragged gasps as you rocked your hips over him, your hands pinning his wrists above his head. Every movement drew a shaky groan from his throat, his body trembling beneath you, trying to keep some semblance of control. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, every inch of him hot and pulsing, hitting just the right spot as you moved, your pace deliberate and slow.

The room was thick with the sound of your bodies coming together-soft gasps, broken moans, the wet sounds of your slickness as you took him deeper. Peter's eyes were squeezed shut, brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to hold himself together.

But as your fingers lightly grazed his wrists, brushing over the spot where his web-shooters lay, his reaction was instantaneous. His body jolted hard, hips bucking up into you as his eyes snapped open wide, pupils blown with shock. His breath hitched sharply.

"W-what?" His voice cracked, laced with confusion, and the look on his face was almost desperate. He had no idea what just happened, and his bewilderment only made the heat in your core flare higher.

A slow, teasing grin spread across your face as you stilled your hips, locking your gaze on his. You pressed your thumbs harder into his wrists, feeling something tense beneath his skin. His reaction was even more intense this time-a loud, choked moan ripped from his throat, his hips jerking uncontrollably beneath you.

"Oh," you murmured, your voice dripping with mischief. "What's this?"

Peter's eyes were wide, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. "I-l don't know," he gasped, his voice tinged with panic. His head fell back against the pillow, chest heaving as his body trembled under your touch. "What are you-"

You chuckled softly, rubbing your thumbs over the same spot again, watching his entire body shudder beneath you. The confusion on his face only deepened, and you couldn't help but enjoy his unravelling. His hips moved of their own accord, desperate for more friction.

"You're so sensitive here," you whispered, grinding your hips down on him again. He was throbbing inside you, and you could feel how close he was.

His cock twitched with every brush of your fingers over his wrist, his moans growing louder, needier.

"F-fuck," he whimpered, his hands clenching into fists where you had them pinned above his head. "I'm gonna-"

You pressed your thumbs down again, rubbing in tight circles as you moved your hips harder, faster. "Do it," you breathed, leaning down to kiss his neck, your voice low and commanding. "Let go."

With a strangled cry, Peter's entire body went rigid beneath you as he came, his hips jerking wildly as he filled you. But just as the wave of pleasure crashed over him, his wrists spasmed, and-without warning-thick webs shot from his wrists, splattering the headboard and the wall behind him.

"What the—?" Peter gasped, eyes flying open in complete shock, staring at the sticky mess with wide eyes. His chest heaved, his mind clearly scrambling to process what had just happened. "Did I-did I just-?"

You stared at the webs hanging from the headboard, equally surprised, before a slow grin spread across your face. "Oh my God," you said, laughing breathlessly. "Did you mean to do that?”

Peter's face flushed a deep red, a mixture of confusion and embarrassment washing over him as he glanced at the webs, then back at you.

"What– no! I didn't–I didn't know that would happen!" he stammered, his voice hoarse, still catching his breath.

You couldn't help but laugh softly, leaning down to press your lips against his. "That was... something else," you murmured against his lips, still teasing.

"Didn't know you had that in you."

Peter was still wide-eyed, his body trembling with the aftershocks, clearly struggling to comprehend the sudden, overwhelming pleasure that had made him lose control like that. "I–I didn't either," he mumbled, looking like he didn't know whether to be embarrassed or turned on.

You raised an eyebrow, running your hands over his wrists again, a devious smile curling at your lips. "I kinda want to try that again."

Peter's eyes widened, and his breath hitched, a mix of panic and excitement crossing his face. "Wait—now?"

You grinned down at him, leaning closer so your lips were just inches from his. "You're telling me you don't want to see if it happens again?"

Peter swallowed hard, looking dazed and overwhelmed as your fingers trailed back to his wrists, teasing that sensitive spot that had triggered his web-shooting. His lips parted, his body already responding, his cock twitching inside you.

"Fuck," he whispered, his voice shaking. "I-yeah, okay, but-"

You take his wrist in your hand, bringing it up to your mouth to press light kisses to his sensitive spot, cutting off his rambling as you rolled your hips again, feeling him harden inside you. "Shh. Just take it like a good boy, Pete.”

[talaok]

Training

Pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader

Summary: Peter has never been able to last enough to take care of you, but as it turns out... practice does make perfect.

Warnings: talk about premature ejaculation, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, sub!peter and lots of pet names for spidey.

he was always so desperate around you. He was always shy about it, but every time you gave him permission his hands never left your body.

He was so fucking in love with you it was actually a little bit scary.

Nobody had ever made him feel the way you did, and not just sex-wise (although goddamn wasn't that the best thing ever), no, but feelings-wise- like he could breathe more easily around you, like he felt light and soft and the word was perfect whenever you were near.

And everything really was perfect... except one little thing.

he couldn't last.

You weren't making it a big deal, being that you were also teaching him every other way he could make you come, but still, he wanted to do it... he so desperately wanted to feel your walls squeeze him as you came that he was willing to do anything... but it was just so hard.

Andit never got easier...

"c'mon baby" you purred, taking his face in your hands "You can do it, think of something else," you said, out of breath as you bounced on his cock "Anything else baby, I'm almost there"

His eyes were shut close.

He'd found that he didn't even stand a chance at lasting more than 2 minutes if he was watching you.

And he tried, he really tried to get his mind to make something up, to will it to find something else to focus on, but-

"you feel so good y/n- I-I can't"

"yes you can" you shut him up with a messy kiss "You wanna be my good boy, baby?" you ask, eliciting a whimper from his throat

"y-yes" he choked out, not sure how he still hadn't burst

"Yeah?" you breathed "Then you're gonna have to be good and wait a little more" you moaned, his dick hitting a particularly good spot "Can you do that for me, baby? can you wait a little more?"

"mh-mh" he hummed, sounding on the verge of tears

"good boy" you moaned, your nails scratching his chest, as he stretched you so incredibly well "fuck-you feel so good" you cried, your voice drowning out the sound of your skin slapping with his "s-so big baby" you moaned again "s-so f-fucking-"

And then, just like that, it happened- the most extraordinary thing he'd ever felt.

You came, you came on his cock- you came because of him (although, let's be honest, you did all the work), and it felt-

he didn't even have words for it, he only groaned louder than he had ever done, and finally (and inevitably) reached his own release as your walls squeezed his dick and your moans filled the air.

He was grinning like an idiot the moment you opened your eyes back up, and you couldn't help but laugh "You liked it?"

"yes" he nodded, still smiling wide "yes very much"

"mhh" you hummed, bashing in your post-orgasmic bliss as you leaned down to kiss him "I told you you could do it honey"

[thollandsgirl2013]

Hi! I was wondering if you could possibly do a tom fic where the reader gets the job as toms personal assistant at first she thinks that he's a stuck up celeb but as time goes on she finds out that hes not like that and develope feeling for him but she knows that she can't like her boss like that so when a guy asks her out she agrees. When tom finds out he acts kind of like a dick to her because he's jealous and he later crashes her date...

Hi, thanks for requesting! I hope you enjoy the story and that it’s everything you imagined.

-----------------©®©®©®©-----------------

𝐓𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

Parings → Tom Holland x Personal assistant! Reader

Warnings → Jealousy, angst, Tom being a dick, complications, fluff

Summary → Y/n gets hired as Tom Holland's assistant, develops feelings for him, and navigates jealousy and complications.

First Impression:

The moment you stepped into the house, you could tell that working for Tom Holland wasn’t going to be easy. His manager had warned you about his demanding schedule, the endless last-minute changes, and the occasional moments when he could be difficult. But you had brushed it off. Celebrities were all the same—demanding, self-absorbed, and too used to getting what they wanted.

You weren’t here to fawn over him like his fans. You were here to work.

The house he was renting in Atlanta for Spider-Man filming was massive—bigger than you’d expected. The modern interior had sleek furniture, high ceilings, and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked a pristine backyard with a swimming pool. It looked more like a luxury Airbnb than a home.

His assistant—the one you were replacing—kept glancing at the clock on her phone, her fingers drumming anxiously against her clipboard. “He was supposed to be here ten minutes ago,” she muttered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

You crossed your arms. “Is he always late?”

She hesitated before answering. “He tries not to be. But his schedule is… a lot. Don’t take it personally if he’s a bit distracted.” Her tone was kind, but there was something behind it—relief, maybe? Like she was glad to be handing off this job to someone else. “Tom’s a nice guy, but—”

Before she could finish, the front door burst open.

Tom Holland stepped in, slightly breathless, dressed in a fitted black t-shirt and jeans, sunglasses pushing back his messy curls. He had the effortless charm of someone who didn’t have to try—shoulders broad, posture relaxed, that natural confidence that came with knowing he was one of the most recognizable actors in the world.

But instead of flashing a Hollywood smile or offering some overly charming introduction, he just let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“Sorry, sorry, I got held up—” His gaze landed on you, and for a brief second, his expression shifted. You weren’t sure if it was curiosity, mild interest, or just exhaustion. “Are you the new PA?”

You met his eyes evenly. “Yeah. I'm Y/N.”

There was a pause. He studied you, as if trying to figure something out, then gave a small nod. “Right. Uh, welcome to the madness, I guess.”

That was it. No smugness, no arrogance, no fake enthusiasm. Just a simple greeting before he turned to his outgoing assistant. “Everything set for today?”

She nodded quickly. “Yeah. I already went over the essentials with Y/N. You’ve got interviews later, and wardrobe fitting at three.”

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing again. “Right. Great.” He turned back to you. “You jump into things fast, huh?”

“I don’t see the point in wasting time.” Your voice was even, professional.

That made him smirk—just slightly. “Good. You’ll need that attitude.”

You weren’t sure if it was a warning or a compliment. Maybe both. Either way, you weren’t convinced yet. Celebrities could be charming when they wanted to be.

And you had a feeling Tom Holland was no exception.

--------

The Shift

It started subtly. You didn’t even realize it at first.

You were used to high-maintenance bosses—ones who barked orders, never said thank you, and treated assistants like they were disposable. But Tom? He was nothing like that. Sure, he had his stressful moments—days where his schedule was overwhelming and he got snappy—but he always apologized afterward. Always.

“Sorry for being a bit of a diva earlier,” he’d mumble, scratching the back of his neck after a long day. “I really appreciate you, you know?”

And that was the problem.

He made you feel seen.

It was the little things that got to you. The way he noticed when you were exhausted and shoved a protein bar into your hand. The way he called out your name with that soft British accent, always warm, always familiar. The way his brown eyes crinkled at the corners when he teased you, his smile contagious.

It was dangerous.

Because one day, you realized you weren’t just working for him. You liked him.

---

The Moment You Knew

It happened during a late-night shoot. Tom had just finished a grueling scene, and you were waiting off to the side with his usual bottle of water. His hair was damp with sweat, his body slumped with exhaustion as he took a long sip.

“You're a lifesaver,” he muttered before plopping down onto a chair beside you.

You laughed. “It’s just water, Holland.”

“Yeah, but it’s you giving it to me. Makes it better.”

Your breath hitched. It wasn’t flirting. It wasn’t even said with any sort of intention. But the way he looked at you—tired, grateful, fond—made your stomach flip.

You needed to get a grip.

---

The Coffee Shop Incident

The solution? Dating.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself when a guy at a coffee shop struck up a conversation.

It had been a rare morning off. You were standing in line, waiting for your latte, when a tall guy with an easy smile and kind eyes slid into the spot next to you.

“Hope this isn’t weird,” he started, “but I noticed you from over there, and I was wondering if I could buy your coffee?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Oh—uh, that’s nice of you, but—”

“Come on, let me be a gentleman. Least I can do after rudely eavesdropping on you talking about how exhausted you are.” His grin was teasing but friendly. “Rough job?”

You hesitated. He was attractive, funny. Normal.

And more importantly, not Tom.

“Yeah,” you admitted, “it’s pretty demanding.”

“Then you definitely deserve a pick-me-up. And maybe dinner sometime? Only if you’re interested.”

It should’ve been an easy answer. And maybe it was.

Because if you said yes, it meant you weren’t falling for Tom.

“Sure,” you said, forcing a smile. “That sounds nice.”

---

Tom Finding Out

You didn’t mean for Tom to find out.

But, of course, he did.

It was later that afternoon when you were on set, double-checking his schedule for the next day. Tom was scrolling through his phone when he casually said, “So, what’s this I hear about you going on a date?”

You froze. Looked up.

He wasn’t looking at you, but his grip on his phone was tight.

Your stomach twisted. “How did you—?”

“Harry mentioned it.”

Of course. Harry, who had casually dropped by the set earlier. You shouldn't have shared it with him.

You forced a casual shrug. “Yeah. It’s nothing serious.”

Tom finally met your gaze, his expression unreadable. “Who is he?”

“Just… a guy from a coffee shop.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. He was bothered.

That realization sent your heart into a tailspin.

You didn’t want him to be jealous. But a small, terrible part of you did.

Tom let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Right. A guy from a coffee shop.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Didn’t know you were looking to date.”

“I wasn’t,” you admitted, voice quieter. “It just… happened.”

A beat of silence.

Then he nodded. “Well. Hope he knows what he’s getting into.”

It was said lightly, playfully. But there was something underneath. Something that made your chest feel too tight.

And when he walked away, you realized—this wasn’t just about you trying to get over your feelings.

This was about Tom.

Because if he didn’t care, why did he look like he did?

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

The Jealousy Begins

It started subtly. Small things that you could almost brush off.

Tom, who was usually warm and teasing, started acting… different. Cold. Distant. He stopped joking with you, stopped asking if you’d eaten, stopped waiting for you when you walked together on set. Conversations were strictly professional now—short, clipped responses with no warmth behind them.

At first, you thought he was just stressed. Maybe exhausted from filming. But then, it got worse.

---

The First Snap

“You’re late,” Tom muttered the moment you stepped into his house.

You blinked at him. “I’m two minutes late.”

“Still late,” he said flatly, not even looking up from his script.

You frowned but chose not to argue. “Here’s your schedule for the week,” you said, setting your tablet down. “You have—”

“I know what my schedule is.”

His tone made you pause. Sharp. Dismissive.

You inhaled quietly. “Okay. Well, just a reminder that your fitting is at three, and—”

“I know,” he repeated, flipping a page aggressively.

You swallowed down the irritation bubbling in your chest. He’s your boss. Losing patience wouldn’t do you any favors.

Instead, you nodded, shifting the topic. “I also confirmed the interview slot for Friday. Do you want me to go over the questions with you later?”

Tom let out a breath, shaking his head. “I swear, sometimes I don’t even know what you’re doing half the time.”

The words made your stomach drop.

Your fingers curled around the edge of your tablet. “I'm sorry?”

“I asked you to follow up on the promo photos last night. Did you even bother?”

You blinked, surprised. “Yes, I did. I emailed the team, and they said they’d send them by tomorrow.”

Tom huffed, clearly unsatisfied. “And you didn’t think to remind them to speed it up?”

Your jaw tensed. “I did. But they said that’s the soonest they can send them.”

Tom scoffed, shaking his head. “Right. Whatever.”

You stared at him. “Did I do something wrong?”

Finally, he looked up. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were sharp. “You just seem distracted lately. Thought maybe you’d be more focused on work, but I guess you have other priorities now.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist.

But instead of snapping back, you just straightened. “I’m doing my job, Tom.”

“Sure,” he muttered under his breath, looking away.

You didn’t push further. Instead, you gathered your things and excused yourself, biting the inside of your cheek the entire way out.

Because for the first time since you started working for him, it didn’t feel like Tom Holland was just your boss.

It felt like he was mad at you for something else.

And you had a sinking feeling you knew what it was.

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

Crashing Your Date

The date was going great—until he showed up.

You had been pleasantly surprised by Liam. He was charming in an effortless way, with an easy smile and a confidence that wasn’t overbearing. He was the kind of guy you should be going for—someone normal. Someone who didn’t make your job feel like an emotional battlefield.

You were at a cozy Italian restaurant, laughter spilling from your lips as you twirled your wine glass between your fingers. The warm glow of candlelight flickered against the table, casting soft shadows as you smiled at something Liam said. Just as another laugh escaped you, a voice suddenly interrupted.

“Huh. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Your body went rigid.

No. No way.

Slowly, you turned your head, already knowing who you’d see.

And there he was.

Tom stood beside your table, arms crossed, expression unreadable—but his eyes? Stormy.

Liam glanced between the two of you, a polite but confused smile on his face. “Uh… hey?”

Tom ignored him. His gaze stayed locked on you. “You didn’t mention you’d be here.”

You inhaled sharply, willing yourself to stay calm. “Because it’s none of your business.”

Tom let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “Right. Of course.”

Liam frowned, clearly picking up on the tension. “Wait, you’re Tom Holland.”

“Yeah, mate, I am.” Tom’s tone was sharp, lacking any of his usual charm.

You shot him a warning glare. “What are you doing here?”

Tom smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just grabbing some food.”

“Alone?”

His smirk faltered for just a second before he recovered. “Well, you’re the one who usually does that.”

Your blood boiled. “Unbelievable.”

Liam shifted awkwardly. “So… you two know each other?”

“She’s my personal assistant,” Tom answered before you could.

Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. There was an edge to it, like he was claiming you.

That was it.

You stood abruptly, plastering a polite smile onto your face. “Excuse us for a second,” you told Liam before grabbing Tom’s arm and dragging him outside.

The cool night air barely registered as you spun on him.

“What the hell is your problem?”

Tom stepped closer, his jaw tight. “My problem? Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’re out with some random guy like it’s no big deal.”

You blinked. “Because it is no big deal.”

His eyes darkened. “Yeah? So you don’t like me at all?”

Your breath caught.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The streetlights buzzed faintly above, casting long shadows around you.

Then, softer, he asked, “Why him?”

Your stomach twisted. “Because he’s not my boss.”

Tom let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his curls. “So that’s the only thing stopping you?”

You hesitated.

And that hesitation was all he needed.

Tom took a step closer, and then another, until the space between you was almost nonexistent. You could smell the faint traces of his cologne, something warm and familiar.

His voice dropped, low and insistent. “If I weren’t your boss,” he murmured, “would you still be here with him?”

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Tom tilted his head, searching your face. “Answer me.”

Your voice barely came out. “No.”

Tom exhaled sharply, like he had been holding his breath.

And then, before you could even process it, his hands cupped your face, and his lips crashed onto yours.

The world tilted.

You gasped against his mouth, your fingers gripping the front of his shirt, but you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t.

The kiss was desperate, almost messy, like he had been holding back for too long. Like this had been building up for weeks, maybe months, without either of you daring to acknowledge it.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing uneven.

“Please don’t go back in there,” he whispered.

Your heart pounded. “Tom—”

“I’ve been a jealous asshole because I can’t stand the thought of you with someone else.” His voice was raw. “Tell me I’m not crazy.”

You swallowed, your hands still fisting his shirt. “You’re not crazy.”

His lips curved slightly, but it was barely there. He was still searching your face, still waiting for something.

Slowly, you reached up, fingers grazing his cheek.

And just like that, he kissed you again.

This time, you kissed him back.

And outside that small Italian restaurant, under the glow of the streetlights, you stopped pretending you didn’t feel the same way.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

[parkerpeter24]

quiet temptations

pairing ➳ tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

word count ➳ 2.3k

warnings ➳ SMUT. characters are 18+ and MINORS DNI. this contains depictions of fingering, oral (m recieving). fluff, peter being sweet but also horny-

summary ➳ you’re awfully quiet but peter can’t seem to take that.

“is everything alright?” peter mumbled as he laid beside you. your back was to him, his arm wrapped around you, “you’re not talking.”

the bed you were laying on was warm, a thin blanket over the sheets because you got extra cold during the winters and a quilt that covered you and peter both. your fingers danced against the wall adjacent to the bed, feeling the cold plaster contrasting peter’s own fingertips that danced on your waist, under your sweatshirt.

“you gonna talk?” he placed a kiss on your hair that was loosely tucked behind your ear, making it fall over your eyes. chuckling when he heard you groan and push the lock of hair back in its original place, “so.. no?”

you sighed softly.

“that’s alright.” peter responded, feeling as if he was just talking to himself now, “we don’t need to talk if you don’t want to.”

the sound of your hum was accompanied by peter’s hand gliding under your sweatshirt and caressing your stomach. he was careful, as if you were made up of glass, watching out for any signs of refusal on your face but your features looked solemn, unchanging.

he sighed, not being able to hold in his concern, “alright, just nod if everything is okay…”

he waited for you and surely you did nod after a few seconds, making peter’s worries dissipate.

“what’s gotten you so quiet?” he tried to get you to talk, his fingers taking a detour from trailing upwards, making contact with the elastic hem of your sweatpants– which originally belonged to him, “‘cause one way or another, i’m gonna hear that pretty voice.”

you felt your face heat up but peter still didn’t notice any change in your expression. if he couldn’t see the blinking of your eyes and sense changing breathing pattern, he’d have assumed you were asleep.

“at least tell me you want this.” he mumbled into your neck, pressing his lips against your exposed skin.

“yeah.” you mumbled and peter wasted no time in sliding his hand under the fabric of your lower, arm holding your body against him. you let out a soft breath as his fingers travelled lower. his middle finger slid your panties to the side before making contact with the skin. he pressed soft kisses to your neck before his nimble finger delved into your folds.

a leg pressed between both of yours, parting your thighs as he nestled a warm hand against your sex.

you let out a soft sound, clutching onto the quilt. his finger sank deeper until he found the earliest bit of your arousal and pulled it out, wanting to spread the wetness everywhere.

his finger travelled up to your clit, circling around it and you bit your lip when he fucked it back into you, knuckle deep. he groaned softly, loving the way your muscles almost clenched his finger.

he repeated his actions a few more times until you couldn’t hold back the soft needy moans that he beyond waited to hear. you felt his teeth sink into the skin of your neck before he sucked that spot, soothing the sting from the bite.

you moaned when he curled his finger, trying to search for a spot that would make your sounds louder. his finger dipped into you inch by inch every time, showing he was in no hurry.

peter’s arm was strongly keeping you pressed against himself as you started to arch your back. he could tell you were getting needy but he wished to hear something from you– even though he was loving the musical moans you were letting out.

he pressed his ring finger into the mix, adding it when he pumped them into you the next time. his face pressed further into your hair when you tried to get away. he could tell you needed more– you were writhing, trying to grind your hips into his already hard cock– but he kept going at the slowest pace he could. one brush of his fingers against your most intimate spot and your lips parted in a loud gasp.

you tried to arch your back which only led to peter’s arm pressing harder against your abdomen. his lips were pressed together, letting out soft hums which accompanied each one of your moans as if encouraging you.

he pulled out both his fingers, fucking in again and then back out and in again until it became a faster rhythm. squelching sounds filled the mostly silent room as his leg parted yours even further.

peter rolled his fingers into you continuously, the heel of his palm nudging against your clit which had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, “pete-” you gasped, “m-more.”

the desperation in your voice made peter grind into your ass. his fingers fucked you faster, holding your legs apart, curling them into you just right until you were jutting your hips, chasing your high.

“good girl.” peter mumbled, “keep it up, baby.”

his fingers moved continuously in and out of you. he could tell you were close with the way you clenched his fingers, however before the coil in your abdomen burst, his fingers pulled out of you, a soft wet sound following it– completely opposite to the loud whine that left your mouth.

“oh my god- why’d you stop?!”

“now you wanna talk?” he mumbled into your hair.

you felt your cheeks heating up further than they were. you hid your face into the pillow, but peter wasn’t letting that happen. he tugged at your chin with his free hand, “oh, baby. trust me, i want you to cum.”

you whined, biting your lip softly at his dirty words. you wondered if peter came prepared for this because no other day would you have expected such filthy words escaping his lips. he’d never done so before in all the times you two were intimate.

he turned you around gently, slowly pressing his forehead against yours as he brought up his fingers to his own lips, sucking them clean. he moaned at the taste as his tongue swirled around the digits, sending a wave of shivers up your spine and arousal to your core.

the second his fingers were released from between his soft, warm lips, your own pair replaced them, tasting remnants of yourself on his lips. you moaned softly, pressing your chest up against his.

“want you.” you breathed out heavily.

peter only shook his head, “not until you tell me what’s with the silence.”

“huh-” your brows pulled together in confusion, “you’re really not gonna-”

“first you tell me what happened.” he pecked your lips once, twice, and a few more times.

you sighed, pursing your lips as you tried to formulate what to say to him– or rather how.

when peter saw you struggle, opening your mouth and then closing it, he brushed a thumb against your cheek, “it’s okay, you should take your time.”

you nodded, feeling the warmth of his hand transfer to your cheek as your eyes met. his chocolate brown eyes swam with what you could identify as pure adoration.

“until then…” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss you.

soft at first, it escalated when he brushed his tongue past your lips, quickly finding yours in a slow yet passionate dance. peter pressed you against the mattress, handling the covers to stay over your bodies.

he wasted no time in moving his lips to your neck, hands going to hold your thighs apart as his thumb now brushed against your clothed thigh, kneading gently as his teeth nipped at your collarbone.

you gasped softly, letting him do as he pleased with you. as you held the back of his head with one hand, the soft, brunette sea of hair engulfed your fingers.

peter moved his hands to the hem of your sweatshirt, wasting no time in sliding it up past your chest, careful enough that you weren’t exposed to the coldness of the room. he dived under the quilt, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, the other being knead in the palm of his fingers.

you gasped as peter’s tongue flicked the bundle of nerves, your stomach flush against his torso.

you could feel his lips curl into a smirk before he switched, rolling your sensitive left nipple between his slender fingers as he licked and pulled the right one in his mouth.

you were getting fidgety, squirming under peter as he felt your grip tighten on his locks, not enough to hurt. he moaned against your skin, placing a few kisses right under your breast, moving lower, now seeming in a hurry.

“pete-” you almost pleaded, finding your voice breathy.

his hands travelled under the pair of sweatpants, making quick work of sliding them down as he traced your thighs, down to your knees before you felt the material slide off you.

you lifted the quilt slightly, just wanting to get a glimpse of peter. the few rays of light that touched him weren’t fast enough to warn you as his lips pressed to the wet patch over your panties. you gasped and threw your head back.

you felt peter’s hot breath and the muffled sound of his moan from under the blanket. he pushed your thighs apart, diving deeper as his nose pressed against your clit, the fabric thick enough to make you grit your teeth, wanting his lips and tongue on you.

maybe peter heard the clenching of your teeth or the way that your hand found home in the tufts of his hair again but he was eagerly pushing down the material past your legs throwing it down to the floor.

you felt peter’s forearms lift your thighs as he shuffled closer to your core, licking up a bold stripe across your folds. your back arched but peter’s grip was keeping you against him.

for a moment you heard him groan as he retracted, “what’s wrong?” you breathed out, supporting yourself up on your elbows.

you almost laughed when his hand creeped out from under the quilt, holding his fogged up glasses out for you to take. with a chuckle, you held the frame between your fingers, quickly placing them to the bedside table.

as you laid your back against the bed, peter was quick to wrap his lips around your clit. you let out a moan as he licked and sucked on the bundle of nerves.

he held onto your thighs, keeping you firm against his lips as he explored the very intimate part of you. his tongue darted out, poking at your entrance, but not giving you enough time to notice that as he slid the muscle deeper against your walls.

you moaned, pressing a hand over your mouth to muffle the lewdest sound you’ve ever made. the bridge of his nose poked against your clit and peter only pressed deeper as his tongue delved in and out of you. it seemed as if he would see no tomorrow if he stopped making out with your dripping hole.

you arched your back, “pete- oh god-”

you felt him hum against you, sending your jaw drop open as you finally felt the pleasure crash all over your body. your toes curled and eyes rolled to the back of your head. you could swear this was the hardest you’d ever come before as goosebumps covered your arms.

you let out a sigh as peter helped you ride out your high, keeping up his ministrations. finally stopping, he placed a soft kiss over your clit, sending your body flinching at the action.

when peter climbed out from under the blanket, surely he looked like he needed to clean up. his chin dripping with your arousal and forehead all sweaty from being so long under the warm quilt.

“you need to wash your face.” you chuckled, brushing back a few locks of hair that were sticking to his forehead.

“and you need to tell me what’s wrong.” he mumbled and you sat up, adjusting your sweatshirt back down.

“it’s nothing-”

“and don’t you dare say it’s nothing.” he sat up as well, beside you, wiping mouth with the sleeve of his shirt– that thing was going in the washing machine the second this conversation was over.

“it’s… just… exams and stuff. you know how anxious i get.” you sighed.

“i know… but you don’t have to! there’s still a week left before-”

“okay, that may seem like a long time but trust me, it’s not.” you looked up at him, meeting the brown eyes that held concern, “i’m sorry, i… i was just overwhelmed. didn’t feel like talking.” you almost pouted, making peter pull you against his chest as he hugged you. you in turn wrapped your arms around his waist.

“trust me, i know how stressful exams can be. but it’s nothing you haven’t been through before.” he placed a soft kiss against your hair, making you hug him even tighter, “you got this, beautiful.”

“yeah, yeah, yeah. easy for you to say.”

he chuckled, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you’re like, i don’t know, the smartest guy of our whole generation.” you mumbled against his shoulder.

peter shrugged at that comment, “hey, even i watch youtube videos for help sometimes.”

“yeah, but you grasp every concept so quickly, like you don’t even have to try.” you looked up at him, blinking when you realised how that must have sounded, “...that was supposed to be a compliment.”

“you’re adorable.” peter chuckled, “how about we study together? i’ll make a time table; and don’t worry, it’s not going to be super chaotic, just a simple time table; and we can figure it out together. how’s that sound?”

you smiled at him, feeling your heart swell at the amount of his care, “sounds perfect.”

his smile mirrored yours, “thanks for telling me.”

you gave him a grin.

“now since i told you, can we fuc-”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

masterlist

[electrosuite]

shower sex with peter plsssss

warnings: swearing, unprotected sex, shower sex, oral sex

word count: 774

masterlist

Peter was especially dirty tonight. Being thrown into a puddle of mud that soaked through his suit meant that he was literally caked in dirt and blood. You wound up putting the suit into a trash bag for the time being to avoid it getting everything else dirty, shoving it under your bed so no one found it.

You hated seeing him after a fight, all bruised and bloody. Turns out New York City had a huge villain problem that you didn't know about before you met him.

You watched him in the mirror as he stepped into the shower, even his ass dirty. You stripped yourself bare and followed him in. He was just standing under the water with his eyes closed, sighing of relief at the feeling of the hot water.

You placed your hands on his sides, eventually sliding them all the way around and hugging him from behind. You pressed your cheek against his shoulder blade and he tipped his head back to lean it against your scalp.

You were careful not to hurt him, but you weren't gentle enough. A couple of his ribs had been cracked and were hurting his lungs. But, to be completely honest, your arms around him was welcomed. He needed a hug, especially one from you.

After a few seconds, he turned around to face you. He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you gently, water now hitting the back of his neck.

He swapped your positions, putting you under the stream. He slowly pushed you against the wall, the water hitting the top of his head and flowing down your faces.

His hands slid down your body to your ass and he smirked into the kiss. He squeezed a bit and you couldn't hold in the moan that conjured up.

He kissed down your body and didn't stop until he was on his knees, holding your writhing body by your hips.

"Peter," you said softly.

"Hm?"

"Why don't we take a real shower and move this to the bedroom?"

"Mm, I don't wanna."

Immediately, he kissed your clit and you shuddered. He hiked your leg over his shoulder, his other hand on the back of the straight knee.

You didn't feel like trying to persuade him to stop, and honestly any thought you had in your head was gone the second his tongue made contact.

You reached down and tangled your fingers in his wet hair, giving you a better grip on it. It didn't take long for you to be a moaning mess, him having to hold your trembling legs still.

The second he was kissing you again, it was like something took over and he was smushing his face against his. He scooped you up and wrapped your legs around his hips. He held you up with one hand — that damn Spider-Man strength — and positioned himself at your entrance with the other.

"Are you hurting?" you asked after he winced a bit.

"Not much. I'm good."

"You sure? I could always just let you take me from behind," you said seductively.

As an answer, he sunk you down onto him and you moaned, laying your head back against the wall. His lips latched onto your neck as he began thrusting, the water hitting where your bodies connected.

You'd only had sex standing once or twice before so you forgot how good it felt for your body to be completely controlled by him. Shoved against the wall, your feet not even on the ground, he could move and fuck you however he wanted to.

But tonight, it didn't seem like he would last much longer. You didn't blame him though, as he never did after he fought bad guys.

You grabbed his face and looked into his eyes, his pupils as big as his irises. Eye contact was always a big turn on for him, so you knew this would get him to cum soon.

"Peter, I want you to cum in me."

"You sure?"

You nodded. "Absolutely. Fill me up." And with that, he was slamming into you, trying to get there quickly. "Fuck, that feels so good."

Within seconds, you felt his warm cum fill you to the brim, dripping out onto the shower floor. You always loved seeing the look on his face when he came — eyebrows pointed up, mouth agape. It was hot as hell.

After a few more kisses, he put you back down on your feet and sat down on the side of the tub on top of the shower liner to catch his breath.

You smirked, washing your hair as you breathed heavily.

[madwcman]

pairing: tasm! peter x reader | a/n at the bottom!

tw : smut | MDNI 18+

you gasp into the crook of peter's neck, leaning against his large frame as he thrusts into you hard. you don’t want to look at peter. you’re feeling too flustered. it was silly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care that much about how silly you felt at the moment.

delicately grabbing your chin, peter moves your face to look up at him properly, he smiles down at you lazily. “why are you hiding from me, baby?” not trusting yourself to talk, you shrug lazily, he makes a tsking noise with his mouth, showing his disapproval of your answer but doesn’t press on it. peter never pressed you.

“we’ve been together for a long time and you still get flustered?” peter teases as his free hand travels between you two slowly making its way to your clit. his thumb nudges it gently, sending a jolt through your body. “i want to see your pretty face while i fuck you.”

“no more hiding, yeah?” his thumb rubs in fast circles as he keeps thrusting into your wet cunt a bit roughly now. “are you going to say anything?”

“i guess not.” peter mumbles slipping out of you, he quickly flips you on your stomach and lifts your hips up for you, putting you into his preferred position. making sure you’re comfortable peter grabs your hips roughly, slipping back in. he continues his fast and rough pace.

a/n: this is my first time posting smut! i fear it’s a bit obvious that its unfinished, but i hope you enjoy it. <3

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

inviting PETER PARKER over as friends for a movie night on your laptop. you didn’t believe people actually gave a fuck about gray sweatpants and when you told pete to dress comfy you didn’t expect him to show up in a pair. your eyes glance down involuntarily, and he doesn’t visibly take note of it at first. it’s the second, or third time you accidentally make eye contact with something that the gears in his head start turning. innocent—albeit a little awkward—cuddling evolves. he gets a whiff of your hair, you feel the muscle under his fitting white t-shirt, he sees the cold perk your nipples through your pajama top, you swear there’s a halfie hiding between his legs. suddenly, your bodies start to gravitate towards one another a little more purposely, nudging each other while “adjusting” positions. soon, you’re not focused on the movie, you can’t stop staring at his rig through those damn gray sweatpants.