#andrew!peter x you

[forever-rogue]

Spidey Senses

AN | You never fight with Peter, sometimes things change. Luckily, you love your Spider more than anything❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 3.5k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You’re thinking too loudly.”

You remained silent as you gently wiped away the dried blood from the gash on his shoulder. You hadn’t said much to him since he came home but that didn’t stop you from taking care of him. You always took care of him, that had never been a question. 

When you were done patching him all up, you moved to rinse out the blood from the washcloth under the hot water, watching as the water went from crimson to clear. You felt his eyes on you the entire time. 

“I don’t think you want to hear what I’m thinking, Peter,” you caught his eye in the mirror, a heavy frown on your features that caused him to hang his head with a heavy sigh. You turned to leave the bathroom, but he caught your wrist, fingers wrapping delicately onto your soft skin, “Peter. I just want to go to bed. Please.”

“Tell me,” he insisted softly as you closed your eyes and sighed heavily, “whatever it is, just let me hear it.”

“Fine,” you turned around and faced him; Peter could see that your eyes were already wet with unshed tears, “fine - you want to know what I’m thinking? I’m thinking that…you need to slow down, Peter. You keep coming home hurt and it’s only been getting worse lately. I know it’s selfish to say but do you know how hard it is to see you like that? I…you have Miles - New York has Miles. He can handle himself and he can and will ask for help if he needs it. But maybe it’s time to let him do more and you can…just slow down a little. I just want to know that you’re going to come home and that you’re going to come home alive.”

“I am Spider-Man,” his lips were drawn into a harsh line as he narrowed his eyes at you, “I can’t just slow down. And I can’t just leave Miles with everything, he’s still young, and he’s still learning. This is who I am.”

“You were young once too and there was no one around to help,” you reminded him, “and you were okay. He has you and he’s a smart kid; there are things he can handle. I’m not saying that you can’t or shouldn’t be Spider-Man, Pete. I would never say that.”

“Then why are you saying anything?” he stared at the ceiling for a moment before groaning lightly, “you don’t know what it’s like. You don’t get that I can’t just walk away from this.”

“You’re right,” you’d pulled back slightly from the harsh tone in his voice; he’d never talked to you in such a harsh tone before, “I don’t know what it's like. But I do know what it’s like to love you and I know how hard it is to watch you work yourself into the ground - it’s absolutely horrible. It’s just…we’re not getting younger, Pete. We’ve talked about getting married and starting our family - how are we going to do that when you’re gone so often and hurt?”

“You don’t…” he ran his hands over his tired face in exasperation, “I don’t think you realize what you’re asking for. I’m fine. If it’s just because you don’t want to deal with me anymore, just say it.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” you angrily swiped away the tears that rolled down your cheeks, “I love you, Peter. I want a future with you, but I can’t have that if you’re not around for it! Maybe it’s still hard for you to accept that people care about you and only want the best for you. You take care of everyone else, but you have to let people take care of you too.”

“If I needed someone to take care of me, I would say something,” he hissed softly, “I’m fine, everything is fine. If you’ve got such a problem with it then maybe…maybe we shouldn’t be together then.”

Your mouth dropped open from the sheer shock of what he had just said. Something was going on with Peter, even if he wasn’t willing to admit to it. You gnawed on your cheek in order to keep from crying or making any sort of sound. You held up your hands in defeat and walked into the bedroom. Without even thinking about it, you went to the closet and grabbed out a duffle bag and started piling in some clothes, not paying attention to what was getting thrown into the bag. 

“I think I’m going to leave and give you space for a bit. We’re not going to figure anything out right now,” you whispered in a broken tone. Peter’s stomach lurched as he watched you pack; how did things escalate so quickly? He wanted to take it all back; he wished he would rewind the last half hour. 

“Don’t go,” he tried to stop you gently but you shook your head, “honey.”

“I don’t want to fight,” your voice was so gentle that he might not even have heard it if it was not for his enhanced senses. Peter sat down on the edge of the bed and watched you pack, feeling helpless and pathetic. He shouldn’t ever have talked to you that way. He was stupid. Stupid.

“Where are you going to go?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “I’ll see if I can stay with MJ or Harry or something. Don’t worry about it, Peter. It's fine."

He fell into silence as he watched you pack your necessities without any rhyme or reason. You really just wanted to get out of there and away from him; that killed him.

Once your bag was packed, you paused in the doorway and turned to give him one last look. The corner of your mouth pulled up into a sad little smile, but the light never reached your eyes. He gave you a small nod but neither of you said anything. 

He listened to your footsteps as you left the house and got into your car. Peter had really fucked up now.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You wanna tell me why your girlfriend’s been staying with MJ for the past couple of days?” Miles turned his face away and busied himself with fiddling on the sleeve of his suit. He’d noticed that Peter had been in a mood lately and then he saw you at MJ’s when he went to pick something up from her. Miles was a smart kid and it wasn’t long before he put the pieces together. He was just curious - and concerned - about Peter. He’d never seen him down like this before and he hated it, “j-just curious.”

“Miles,” he yanked the mask off his face and leaned against the door. The two of them were on a random rooftop, keeping an eye on things despite the quiet night. He turned to face the younger man and Miles could see how tired and run down he looked, “it’s…been a lot.”

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but you can talk to me Pete,” he nudged his arm and offered him a meek smile. Peter had been there for him for so long and through so many hard times he wanted him to know that he was there for him as well, “but if you ever need someone to talk to…”

“Thanks Miles,” he reached over and gave the boy’s shoulder a squeeze, “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Pete,” Miles hopped onto his feet and crossed his arms over his chest, "I'm going to worry even if you say not to."

"You're a good kid," he offered his protégé a half smile.

"I'm not a kid anymore," Miles huffed in response, "and you're getting old."

He half expected a laugh to come from the older man; instead all he heard was a small huff seemingly in agreement. Peter paused for a moment before meeting Miles' eyes, "that's the problem, isn’t it?”

"Whaddaya mean?" all sorts of bad thoughts crossed his mind. What if Peter was sick? Or something bad happened? What if-

"I know I'm getting older and things are different than they used to be," he leaned his back against the wall before whispering your name, "she brought it up the other day - that I'm not getting any younger and that I should…let go a little bit. I didn't take it well and we got into an argument and I said dumb things I shouldn't have."

"She's not wrong," Miles sat down in front of Peter and shrugged, "I mean it, its the same for me too. She just wants you around more, Pete. She’s put up with your ass for so long now. Have you apologized for what happened?"

 "No," he grimaced, "I haven't. I don't know what to say. I mean, I basically told her we should break up. I didn't mean it."

"Of course you didn't," he snored in amusement, "you're disgustingly in love."

Peter smiled at that; it was true after all. You were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life, he wanted everything with you, "I just don't know what to say. Or even if she'd want to listen. Maybe she's done with me."

"You're so stupid," Miles scoffed as Peter couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped him, "she's not breaking up with you. She's just waiting for you to get your head out of your ass."

"Yeah?" Peter wanted to believe Miles was right, desperately so, because he couldn't imagine a life without you. That was not a life he wanted in any way.

"Parker," the younger spider stood back up and pulled the mask over his face, "get up and let's move. You're getting too pathetic for me."

"Yeah, yeah," he watched as Miles jumped off the roof, moving to follow suit. His body was more tired and stiff today; it was like everything you had lovingly pointed out was slowly coming to light. Peter sighed softly at the thought before concealing his identity again. 

He followed after Miles, a million thoughts swirling in his mind. At the end of it all, they all came back to you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"You've been moping around for days now," MJ wasn't wrong. You'd shown up at her apartment in the late night hours after your fight with Peter and she'd welcomed you without hesitation. Although only small details of what happened had come to light, Mary Jane Watson was a smart woman and had more or less put the pieces together, "are you either going to tell me the whole story or just continue being sad?"

"Shut up," you groaned playfully, throwing the big couch blanket over your face, "its nothing."

"I know you, and Pete, and you're both terrible liars," MJ pulled the blanket away, a knowing little look on her face. You pulled your knees up to your chest and rested your chin on top of them before letting out a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh, “c’mon. What’s wrong?”

“Pete and I had a fight and it got a little heated,” you confessed, “he came home hurt and I was upset and it just…turned out all wrong. I told him that I hated seeing him hurt and that I thought maybe he should consider slowing down his���duties a little bit. He didn’t take it well.”

“I’m sure it was just the moment,” she always had this calming aura around her and you already felt a tiny bit better, “it’s not like Pete to argue or…be mean.”

“I know,” you could count the number of times the two of you had what you would consider an actual argument on one hand, “I think it just went a little far and I’d thought it was best to give him some distance. He…umm, and I know he didn’t mean it but he said that if I wasn’t okay with him being Spider-Man then maybe we should break up.”

“He actually said that?” her brow furrowed as you nodded meekly, “that’s not like him…but you know he didn’t mean it.”

“I know,” you sure hoped it was true anyway, “it’s just because I care about him, you know? We’ve talked about maybe starting to grow our family and I just wonder how he’s going to handle everything he normally does on top of having a baby. Plus, I hate seeing him get hurt and so exhausted all the time. I don’t want to take anything away from him, I just want him. I want him home and safe and cared for. And I hate the idea that he thinks I’d ever want him to stop being Spider-Man.”

“If he has any sense he’ll know that,” the redhead promised, “it might just take a minute for him to catch up. He is a man after all.”

At that you laughed, a full and true laugh that you hadn’t experienced in what felt like ever. You’d give Peter his space, but you hoped that at the end of the day he would come home to you, or rather, you would go home to him. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You almost jumped out of your seat at the kitchen table when you heard the loud and heavy knocking at the door. Scrambling out of the chair you darted to the door and peeked into the hallway to see who was at the door. To your surprise, you found a very anxious Peter Parker standing there. Your heart skipped a few beats as you hesitated on whether or not to open the door.

“I know you’re there,” he said softly, “I can hear your heartbeat.”

"What are you doing here, Peter?" You kept the mostly shut, leaving just enough room for you to poke your head out. It had been almost a week since you'd seen him and he didn't look much better than when you'd left. Your expression softened, any residual anger melting away. You could never stay mad at him.

"I wanted to talk to you," he almost choked on his words as he allowed himself to steal a peek at you, "and I want you to come home."

Home. The house that was one May Parker's was now his - yours. Together you had taken the good old memories and made even more of your own. You loved it there, and you loved it even more with Peter. 

“I think we should talk before we make any decisions,” part of you wanted to jump into his arms and squeeze the life out of him and kiss him and everything, but you didn’t. Instead you opened the door a little wider and motioned for him to come inside; MJ was out but you figured she wouldn’t care.

“I love you,” he blurted out before he even stepped inside, his cheeks turning a subtle shade of pink. Your mouth opened in surprise but you couldn’t deny the fact that it warmed your heart. There were still bits and pieces of the boy you’d fallen in love with so many times under there. 

“I love you too, Pete,” you motioned for him to follow you as you walked into the living room, taking a seat on the couch across from him. He sat down slowly, hesitantly, trying to get a read on you. But you had your best poker face on and weren’t showing your cards in the slightest, “you know that no matter what, I’ll always love you.”

His shoulders shagged with relief at your revelation; not that he had really doubted that but sometimes reassurance was needed. He nervously played with his hands, trying to gather his words; he had so much to say but wasn’t sure if he could manage to get it all out. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and you reached over to give his hands a small squeeze. 

“It’s okay,” you whispered, “just talk to me.”

“I’m sorry for how I acted that night,” he whispered, “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I didn’t mean it when I said I thought that maybe we should break up. I don’t want to break up - I want you.”

“I hope you know that I never want anything but the very best for you,” he closed his eyes and nodded gently. Of course he knew that, you’d never given any reason to doubt that, “I never wanted to upset you, Pete.”

“I know,” he swallowed, a thick lump welling up in his throat, “I’ve always known that. It’s just that…I don’t know if I can just slow down and leave Spider-Man behind.”

“Peter,” you moved closer to him, your voice so soft and gentle that it almost made him cry, “slowing down doesn’t mean you’re leaving Spider-Man behind. You’re always going to be Spider-Man, nothing is going to change that. But it’s okay to let go a little and trust that Miles will be there for the city. And maybe some else in the future, maybe a whole gang of spiders. But you’ve been doing this for a long time, Peter. You deserve to rest too, you know.”

He looked up at you, teary-eyed and you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him, hugging onto him tightly; had the hug been reversed he would have probably crushed you but you wanted him to know how much you loved him, “I’m sorry.”

He melted into your arms, nuzzling his face into your neck, his breathing growing ragged. You rubbed his back soothingly, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear. His tears soaked into the cotton of your shirt but it didn’t matter at all to you -  all you wanted was for him to know he was loved and safe. 

After a while of holding him you pulled yourself out of his tight grasp and took his face in your hands, brushing away the drying tears on his face, “hey, it’s alright. I’ve got you. I’m not forcing you to do anything, I’m just giving you my opinion of what I’m seeing. Ultimately, it’s up to you, Pete. But you have to take care of yourself too. Will you at least try that? If not for you, I’ll be selfish and ask you to do it for me.”

“I will,” he turned his face so he could place a kiss into the palm of your hand, “I do want to marry you a-and start our family. Like we’ve always talked about.”

The way your eyes lit up was enough to indicate to him that whatever decisions he made or steps he took to make that future a reality would be worth it. You were worth it. You leaned in and kissed him tenderly, “yeah?”

“Yeah,” he promised, “I think you’re right about what you said and I think deep down I’ve known it too. It’s just so hard to admit it in a way.”

“It’s not saying goodbye,” you reminded him, “it’s just slowing down a little bit and taking moments for yourself.”

“I’ll work on it,” he decided it was a vow that he was going to keep it, “but if I’m ever an idiot, just remind me that I’m an idiot.”

“I have no problem with that,” you grinned excitedly, “my sweet Spider.”

“And I’m sorry,” he ran his hands up and down your sides, squeezing them gently, “really. For the things I said and how I acted. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that at you.”

“Apology accepted,” you took his hands in yours and held them tightly in turn, “thank you.”

“Will you come home?” he was nervous to ask but all he wanted was for you to be back home with him; it felt so strange and foreign without, “I-I understand if you don’t want right now but-”

“Of course,” you cut him off with a finger to his lips, “I want to come home. Plus, I think MJ will be glad to get rid of me moping around all the time. I missed you a lot, Pete.”

“I missed you so much,” he crushed you to his chest, causing you to laugh softly, “I can’t wait to have you back. I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“Me too, Pete,” you burrowed yourself into his warm body as much as you could. You were already home. Peter would always be your home, “I love you, Spidey. My Spidey."

That made him beam brighter than the sun, “I love you too, honey.”

[citrusy-lemons]

meet-cute

tasm!peter x reader (university au)

summary: you're late to your class and someone's left a skateboard on your path. the owner of the skateboard has very brown eyes.

w/c: 0.8k

author's note: um, hi. this is the first thing i've written for peter parker (i know, shocking, i mostly read about him) so i'm not sure whether i've captured his essence, but i tried. also i know it's a bit cringey but i started writing it in the reader's pov and i couldn't change it to peter's in the middle like i wanted to so, i guess, next time. i hope you like this! constructive criticism is encouraged, please be nice :)

you had not imagined your first day of university to go this way. it was a cloudy day, pleasant and not too windy. you were hoping to make it to class a few minutes early and have everything set up before the professor arrived. 

but instead, you were late, you were not organized at all, and you were panicking. all because your stupid alarm hadn’t gone off. why? because you’d forgotten to change the timezone in your phone. moving to the new city had not been easy and now you were super late for your class.

cursing yourself for your stupidity, you were hurrying across the campus, you weren’t sure where your class was, but you were hoping that you’re walking in the right direction. 

checking your bag, hoping to god that you’d grabbed the right books on your way out, with a cup of coffee in your other hand, you awkwardly jogged across the campus to the building where you hoped would be philosophy by mr. jackson. 

you were in the midst of congratulating yourself on successfully having the correct textbooks in your bag when the earth shifted. 

okay maybe that was a bit dramatic but that was what had happened to you. the earth hadn’t shifted, but you’d fallen on your butt because someone had left a skateboard lying in the middle of the walking path. 

thankfully, your coffee hadn’t spilled but your books sure had. looking up you found a brown-haired boy bashfully kneeling down and start collecting the books, profusely apologizing.

"-really sorry, are you okay? did you break anything? i broke my ankle a couple of years ago but i was just being stupid, oh god did you break your ankle? i hope you didn't, that hurts a lot. i'm so so sorry, are you okay?" he finished, turning his brown eyes on you in concern.

he looked very... soft. he was wearing a brown jacket and a navy blue zip up over a light blue tshirt. his headphones were hanging out of the neck of his tshirt. he looked like he smiled a lot. his brown hair was ruffled, his brows furrowed and you realized he was still waiting for your answer.

"i dont think i've broken my ankle if that's what you're worried about," you sat up. your butt was sore, but other than that you were okay.

"okay, that's good, that's a start, anything else broken?" he bit his lip, and you tried not to stare at it.

"no, doesn't feel like it," you took a breath, and looked away from him, towards the guilty board, "why don't you explain why your skateboard was just lying there?"

he helped you up, your coffee was still intact, you dusted yourself off.

"oh, uh yeah, again, i'm really sorry, i was checking my schedule on whether philosophy was right now or in an hour and i didn't realise it had rolled away from me," he did look very guilty, his frown saying as much.

he returned your books and you stuffed them in your bag which was lying on the ground. he was still looking at you.

"be careful then," say something clever, why wasn't your brain working?

"i'm really sorry," he offered, why was he still looking at you?

he picked his own bag up from the ground and looked away, grabbing his skateboard too.

you blinked.

"i think philosophy is right now,"

he looked at you again.

"which reminds me," you walked past him, fast. almost running, looking straight ahead.

philosophy is right now and you are very late.

"um, hey!" you heard him call out and turned around, still walking. he was facing your direction, looking at you again.

"philosophy by mr. jackson?" he asked, his skateboard in one hand and his brown bag slung across his back. did he really like the color brown?

"yeah," you called back, hoping he didn't have the same class as you.

"his classroom's that way," he pointed his thumb behind him.

goddamnit.

you stopped and started walking in his direction and he joined with you as you went past him. he took the hint that you were late and didn't really feel like making conversation. you tried not to visually show your panic but he seemed like a good observer.

you both reached the classroom (it was the first room in the building how could you have missed it?), and saw that yeah, you guys were very late.

the classroom was full, and a middle aged man was already talking to the students. professor jackson noticed you both before you had a chance to say anything.

"ah late on the first day, not making a good impression mr. and miss...?"

"peter- uh parker, peter parker," the boy next to you said.

you introduced yourself and mr. jackson let you both get to your seats without further embarrassment.

you sat down, pulled your textbook out and tried listening to what the professor was saying.

you looked for him and found peter parker's brown eyes already on you.

[withahappyrefrain]

Summary: In which after a long night, you and Peter find comfort in each other.

Warnings: unprotected sex, praise, oral sex (f receiving), language, fingering, dirty talk, if you think butterfly hair clips are a new trend, you're too young to read this

It was a soft sound, always was. He always tried to be as quiet as possible when he opened the window, in case you were asleep. 

Not that you ever were. 

Truth was, you couldn’t fall asleep. Your eyes may close for a bit, drift off, but then you’d turn and feel how empty his side of the bed was, alerting you that Peter still wasn’t home yet. 

The creak of your shared apartment window opening was your favorite sound. 

It meant he had made it back to you. 

Your feet quickly hit the wooden floor, the sheets on your bed becoming a tangled mess as you threw them away from your body. 

Peter's arms quickly found you, wrapping themselves around your waist. As the faint smell of cinnamon began to engulf you, your lips found its way to his neck. 

"Hey bug, it's like ya missed me or somethin'." In Peter's head, it sounded way smoother. But the truth was, no matter how many years you two had been dating, once your lips had found that spot where his neck and jawline connected, words were tough to get out. 

"Missed you. Rough night?" Your fingers traced over Peter's suit, looking for tears. The fact there were hardly any was a good sign. 

"Tonight wasn't too bad. Not the best, but not the worst." You simply nodded as you inspected the cut on his right shoulder. 

"You hungry? I have leftover pasta in the fridge." Peter smiled at your suggestion. Whether it was inspecting him for injuries or cooking, you always tried to take care of him. 

You always made him feel loved. 

Peter didn't think that feeling would ever return. You wish you had met him earlier. 

"Just wanna be with you," His voice was soft, his lips against your forehead. You melted into him as he pressed gentle kisses to the top of your head. 

"Just wanna be with you too," you murmured. 

The two of you made your way back to the bed, sitting up as you helped him strip down to his boxers. 

"Come'ere," Peter's hands find their way back to your hips, gently gripping the soft flesh as he pulls you into his lap. 

You don't complain. How could you, when it allowed you to be closer to him, allowed you to be wrapped in him? 

So instead of complaining, instead of cracking a joke, your lips find his, closing the space in-between. 

Friends joke that you and Peter could set a world record for how often you two kiss one another. Surely at least several thousands kisses have occurred since your first. At least. 

And yet, no matter how many times, warmth spreads through your body when his lips capture yours. No matter how many times, your stomach always flutters, your knees weaken, when you feel his hands cup your face, keeping you in place. 

His tongue only has to swipe across your bottom lip once before you grant him access, parting your mouth. Your breath hitches as he uses one hand to tilt your head up, deepening the kiss that was becoming more desperate and frantic by the second. 

Peter's other hand trails down your shirt, until it reaches the hem. Long fingers ghost the barrier between fabric and bare skin several times. A small whine leaves your lips. 

He chuckles, "Something you want bug?" 

Two can play that game. His chuckles quickly die, a strangled groan replacing it when your hips rock against his, your clothed core brushing against him. 

"Fucking hell, bug," His hands move to your hips once more, gripping as he stands on his knees. 

The way Peter is able to lay you down on the bed in one fluid motion has your head spinning. Out of instinct, your arms stretch up, assisting him in removing your Tshirt. 

His mouth is back on yours, his hands quickly pulling down the thin pair of panties you had on. Why you felt the need to wear them, knowing Peter would be back later and it had been several days since you two had fucked, was beyond him. 

His lips leave yours, now making contact with your bare chest. Your fingers tangle themselves into his dark hair as his mouth finds one of your nipples, sucking on the hardening bud. 

All you can do is whine and cant your hips towards him, desperate for any kind of friction. 

"Peter," the desperation in your voice goes straight to his cock, which was currently straining against the fabric of his boxers.

Peter moves his body down, down to where he personally believes is pure heaven. 

In between your thighs. 

Prior to meeting Peter, you were used to your partners going down on you with the mindset of it being an obligatory act, simply a step that they could get over with quickly before pulling down their pants. 

But then you met Peter, who could spend all day between your thighs if you allowed it. Peter, who takes his time with his tongue, tasting every inch of your wet cunt. 

Your back arches in pleasure upon his tongue thrusting past your slicked folds. His nose brushes against your clit, sending electricity through your body. One of your hands finds its way back to his now ruffled hair, tugging on the thick, dark locks to guide him to where you need his mouth the most. 

Peter enjoys teasing you. He loves to see how far he can push you. But when it comes to tasting you, when it comes to making you fall apart on his tongue, he can't find it in himself to do it. 

He enjoys it too damn much. 

The words leaving your mouth are barely coherent, your urge to hold onto a sense of control disappearing as soon as he thrusts a finger into your core. 

Peter loses himself in the all too familiar taste of you. A second finger joins the first, the delicious stretch causing you to throw your head back. The moan he lets out against your cunt sends vibrations throughout your body. 

"Feel s'good, s'tight," his voice is muffled, his words only pushing you closer and closer to that pleasurable peak. 

Your body withers against the sheets, his fingers zeroing in on the spot that made your vision blurry. All you can say is his name, over and over again. All you can focus on is him. 

"P-Peter. I-Peter!"

He nods frantically, able to understand what you need. His laps wrap around your clit, mouth sucking ever so slightly as his fingers continue their ministrations. 

Your whole body seizes up and goes rigid as the first wave of pleasure washes over you. The grip on his hair tightens, as if it's your anchor. 

When you open your eyes, Peter's face is hovering over yours. His pupils are so overblown with lust, you can barely see that beautiful amber hue. 

A finger gently traces your cheeks as he studies your face. 

"You wanna keep going? We can stop tonight."

"N-no," you weakly shake your head, "W-want-need you." 

His lips brush against yours, the gesture grounding you. 

"I got you. We can stop anytime, okay?" 

"Okay," your voice is weak, but that didn't stop your hands from reaching towards the boxers he still had on. 

"Someone's impatient." 

An adorable pout forms on your face, "Says the guy who lasted not even five minutes before eating me out." 

Peter laughs, the corners of his eyes creasing as a smile overtakes his face. 

It's a beautiful sight. It's your favorite sight. 

"Look, it's been several days since we last had sex. Can ya blame me, bug?" He leaned his forehead against yours, moving his head ever so slightly back and forth to make your noses brush. 

"No, I can't," you say with the giggle that Peter absolutely adores. The one that he would do anything to be able to hear for the rest of his life. 

His hands brush yours away, making quick work of removing his boxers. Your thighs clench at the sight of his hardened cock that was now lying against his toned stomach. 

You reach out, desperate to feel him in your hand. 

"Later," you raise an eyebrow at his abruptness, "I-sorry, I just really wanna be inside ya." 

The sheepish look on his face made your heart flutter. Had he not rub his cock between your soaked folds, you would have reached out to ruffle his hair, maybe even sit up to kiss him on the cheek. 

But you can't, not when the head of his cock brushes against your swollen clit. All you can do is grip his broad shoulders and bury your head into his kiss-bitten neck. 

Peter eases into you, knowing you need time to adjust to the stretch. 

"How the hell do you do that?" He grits through his teeth. 

"D-do what?" 

"Be s'tight." Without even thinking, you clench around his cock, which is only halfway inside of you. 

"Fuck bug." Peter's mouth finds itself on your jawline, nipping at your warm skin. His hips move away from yours, his cock nearly leaving you. 

A whine falls from your lips, your legs wrapping themselves around his waist, desperate for him to stay. 

"Hey," he says softly, "Hey."

You open your eyes to find him looking at you, his lips captured in a soft smile. 

"I'm not going anywhere," He assures you before capturing your lips once more. 

Peter's hips rock forwards, finally filling you to the hilt. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, sure to leave crescent shaped marks. Not that he would complain. 

Peter never did. It wasn't because the marks would fade away by dawn, but rather that he loved the physical reminders of your love, that it was you who had marked his body, leaving evidence of your affection towards him. 

"Doing s'good. Feel fuckin' amazing," His Queens accent always came out during times like these; when he was trying to keep it together, trying to keep himself from increasing the pace of his thrusts. 

Your ankles lock around one another, keep his hips flushed against yours. 

"More," you whined, "Please." 

"Ya sure?" You simply nodded, desperate to be consumed by him. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin increased, as did his pace. You were still reeling with sensitivity from your first orgasm, jolts of pleasure sparking throughout your body with each thrust. 

Peter knew you were close from your thighs shaking, your cunt clenching around his cock. 

"One more. Be an angel and gimme one more," His voice was shaking, his mind trying to focus on making you cum again. Which Peter personally thought he deserved some kind of medal for being able to focus on anything other than being engulfed in your warm, soaked cunt. 

His fingers trailed down to where your bodies connected, quickly finding your clit. A near scream erupted from your lungs as he drew circles on the swollen bundle of nerves. 

Your body shakes with pleasure as you fall over the edge, so lost in pure rapture that you don't even notice his thrusts becoming erratic. 

A deep, guttural moan falls from Peter's lips, his hips stuttering as he begins to come inside of you. The sensation prolongs your high, your hips desperately trying to meet his. 

The sounds he's making are heavenly to your ears. Your teeth sink into his shoulder, nipping and sucking a purple bruise into his pale skin. 

His hips stutter one last time before stilling, the only sounds in the bedroom now the ceiling fan and your heavy breathing. 

"Fuck," was all you could get out after several minutes had passed. 

"Yeah," Peter chuckled, "That was….yeah. Fuck." 

"Alright," you chuckled, "Where's the towel?" 

"The towel?" Peter lifts his head from your chest, a confused expression taking over his face. 

"Did….did you not grab a towel?" 

"No, I….I was focused on other things," He said sheepishly, avoiding eye contact. 

"Peter!" 

"What? We pay extra in rent to have our own washer and dryer for a reason, bug." 

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

@liz-allyn @wicked-remarks @moonyslove78 @letmeplaytheliontoo @blooming-violets @squiddtheekidd @friendly-neighborhood-blondie @letmeplaytheliontoo @ouralcohol @mortwig @renaroo123 @rae-gar-targaryen @reidslovely

[3vergr3en]

Earn it.

_______________________

Author’s Note: I have the biggest, most fattest crush on Andrew Garfield. LIKE LOOK AT HIM. Also, if there are any mistakes, I did not proofread this 💀

Summary: Harry is hosting a birthday party for his best friend, Peter. Everything runs smoothly until Y/N’s best friend back in high school shows up and start flirting with the female. Oblivious Y/N doesn’t think much of it, being used to such playful manner. But Peter can see through the man’s facade, and he doesn’t like it one bit.

Paring: Fem!Reader x TASM!Peter Parker

Genre: Smut with little plot.

Word Count: 2.9K

Additional Info: Public sex, unprotected sex (PLEASE WRAP IT), nipple play, orgasm control, Peter has an obvious breeding kink, cream pie, choking, teasing, profanity, name-calling, humiliation, dirty talk, jealousy, established marriage.

_______________________

“Thank you for coming! Please grab some champagne and the appetizers are over towards the left.” You inform with a smile, using your hands to help direct the couple towards the section. You continued on saying the same phrase for the majority, apart from times where you had thrown in a couple different sentences such as, ‘You guys look amazing tonight”, ‘Oh my, I haven’t seen you in so long!’, and ‘Oh thank you, Peter helped me pick out this dress.’

But one familiar fellow caught your attention, “Oh my god, Mark is that you?” You question as your jaw hung low in shock, your eyes widening twice in size. “I’m surprised you still remember me.” The black-haired man laughs as he walks up to you, extending his arms out as an indication for a hug, “How could I not? We spent our entire high school years together!” You exclaim, embracing the latter into your arms. You received a nice, firm hug from the male in return. “God, I missed you.” Mark chuckles, using one of his hands to caress the bare skin on your back through your long, velvet black backless dress. “I missed you as well. I tried contacting you after graduation, but—“ You pulled away.

“I got a new phone, and all of my contacts didn’t save unfortunately.” Mark explains as he held your hands in his, his thumbs rubbing in circular motions on the back of your hands. “You look gorgeous, by the way. You’ve always have been, since high school to now.” Mark compliments, leaning down to kiss your hand. “Oh stop it, Mark. You’re too much. What happened to the Mark that would tease me 24/7?” You laugh, using one of your hands to playfully slap at the man’s shoulder.

You fail to notice a presence coming up behind you, growing concerned when there was an abrupt change in Marks demeanor. “Mark? What’s wrong?” You furrowed your eyebrows as your frowned before looking over your shoulder only to see Peter glaring at Mark with a tightly-clenched jaw. “Oh hon’! Have you seen what Harry has done for your birthday? The ballroom is absolutely stunning! Also, I want you to meet Mark, he was my best friend throughout high school,” You smiled, wrapping your arms around your husband’s arm, oblivious to the tension between the two men. “And Mark, meet my husband, Peter.” You inform, feeling one of Peter’s arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

“Husband?” Mark questions, raising one of his eyebrows. “Yeah. Dated for 4 years, been married for 5.” Peter stated, holding the hand out that the wedding band around your ring finger. “Oh, well, congratulations. I’m really happy for you, Y/N. But I’m just saying, I would’ve gotten a better ring for a beautiful woman like you.” Mark examines the ring, then to look at Peter with a smug look.

“Pfft, I forgot how much of a jokester you are, Mark.” You grin. “Hey, love? Can you go grab me some water?“ Peter asks with a nonchalant tone, not breaking eye contact with the man that stood in front of him. “Hm? Oh yeah, of course.” You nod, excusing yourself before walking off.

“The fuck is your problem?” Peter mutters, stepping closer towards Mark. “Nothing. It’s just sad to hear that my girl’s married off to some other dude. She looks ravishing tonight. The way the dress perfectly hugs her waist and extenuate her curves. How is she? Is she tight? Does her tits feel soft?” Mark whispers, the corner of his lips curling up into a smirk. Peter balled up his fists, clenching tightly to the point where his knuckles were turning white. As he opened up his mouth to say something, a pair of heels clicking against the smooth, tiled floor pulled him out of his frenzy.

“Unfortunately, they didn’t have water at the moment. They only had champagne, if that’s okay, love?” You explained, each hand holding two glasses. “I got one for you, Peter, and one for Mark.” You smiled. “That won’t be necessary, hon’.” Peter chuckles, grabbing both glasses. Before you could get a word in to ask why, your hands flew to cover your mouth as you watched Peter pour the beverages straight onto Marks head. Peter then handed you the empty glasses, pecking your cheek before turning around to face Mark once more, only to land a hard blow right across the males face. “Oh my god, Peter!” You gawked, immediately placing the glasses on a nearby table prior to rushing over to pull the brunette away from the half insensible Mark. “What is wrong with you?” You question with wide eyes, you look around to see people judgmentally staring at you three.

“You didn’t hear the vile things he said about you.” Peter mutters, shaking the hand that is now starting to bruise up. “Security!” You call out, “Please escort this gentleman out.” As two able-bodied men in black suits walked over, you pointed your hand at Mark who could barely stand. “Thank you.” You say to the two men, smiling.

You then felt a hand gripping at your wrist, dragging you through the crowd of people and up the carpet staircase. “Peter, where are you taking me?” You whispered loud enough for only Peter to hear. “Shut up.” You heard Peter respond back in a churlishly manner. You were bewildered. You don’t even know what Mark could’ve said to have Peter all riled up. You didn’t know where Peter was taking you in all honestly, there was a lot of turns and all you knew was that your feet were starting to hurt. It’s not easy to walk relatively fast in 5 inch heels.

“Peter, can you please slow down? My feet are starting to hurt—“ You gasped as you were suddenly grabbed at your shoulders, turned around to have your back pushed up against a large glass window. “Peter-!” You slightly yelp, looking around frantically. You saw you two were in a short hallway, the lights were fairly dimmed. You look over your shoulder to look through the glass windows and see you were approximately 15 stories high. “Peter, what are you doing?” You whisper, looking up at the male with furrowed eyebrows.

“Are you really that fucking stupid, huh?” Peter spats out. He grabs both of your wrists with one of his hands, pinning it above your head. The other hand now clenched around your jaw. “I don’t understand—“ You whimper when you felt Peter’s thigh force your legs apart. “He was flirting with you. Maybe you’re just too fucking dumb to even notice.” Peter says through gritted teeth. “Touching you.. putting his lips on you,” He scoffs, his hand that held your jaw now making its way down to your neck. “He had the fucking nerve to ask such vulgar questions about my lovely wife,” Peter laughs, tightening his grip around your throat, “But he wont ever know. He’ll live out the rest of his life wondering how tight you feel.. how soft these wonderful tits are.. and how much of a slut you sound like when you’re getting fucked.” Peter whispers into your ear, his thigh inching closer to your aching cunt.

You felt your body becoming hotter. But you also felt yourself becoming wetter with each passing second. “I’m sorry, Peter. Please..” You gasp out, bucking your hips up, trying to grind against Peter’s thigh for some sort of friction. “Look at my pathetic little whore, trying to rub herself on me. Tell me, love, what do you want?” Peter asks, loosening his grip around your throat. “Please fuck me..” You whine, shortly gasping afterwards when Peter finally pressed his thigh up against your clothed pussy. “More. Beg for it.” Peter orders. You began moving your hips forward and backwards, grinding against the soft material of the suit. Small whimpers slipping out of your mouth as you finally gained the friction you’ve been wanting. But it wasn’t enough, you needed more. You itched for more.

“Need more..” You breathed out, shaking your head when Peter had pulled his thigh away, “I want you inside of me.” You moaned when you felt Peter’s hand cupping your sex. “Do you deserve to be fucked, love?” Peter asks as he grabbed a handful of the lace material before ripping it off of you. You gasped at the sudden chill waving at your soaked cunt. He balled it up in his fists before stuffing it into his pant pocket. “Did you fucking hear me?” Peter asks, using the hand that bonded your wrists together, to now wrap around your throat once again, pinning you against the clear, cold glass surface. You nod frantically, mouth a gape, “Yes! Yes! I deserved to be fucked, oh please.. please fuck me.” You pleaded desperately when Peter’s fingers glided a long stripe in between your folds, stopping when the pad of his fingers landed perfectly on top of the clit. “Gotta quiet down, hon’.“ Peter huffs out, rubbing the small bundle of nerves in a slow, agonizing pace. “Please! Peter, faster!” You cried out, unable to take any more teasing. “What the fuck did I just say?” Peter muttered, momentarily pinching the airways on your throat. His fingers now starting to pick up the pace, rubbing in circular motions against the small knob. You moan, your hips bucking up into Peter’s hand. “Oh shit, yes!” You whimper, biting down on your bottom lip in attempt to try to lower your voice.

You whine in protest when Peter pulls his hands away from your body. He then pinched at the straps of your dress, pulling it down your arms, allowing the upper part of the dress to slip off your chest. Your breasts now full out on display, your nipples hard. “Another thing Mark will never know..” Peter breathes out as he turns you around. The front of your body now exposed to the outside world. His hands snaking around your torso till it reached your tits. He cupped them into his hands, kneading the soft, warm flesh. You hold onto Peter’s wrists, tilting your head backwards to rest onto the male’s broad shoulder. He slightly grazed his index fingers against the tip of your erected nipples, chuckling when you twitched against him. “I love how sensitive they are,” Peter whispers into your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. He placed his finger pads onto your nipples, beginning to rub them circular motions. You moan out in delight, squeezing your thighs together. “P-peter,” You whimpered. “Yes, baby. Say my name.” He hums, pinching the buds in between his thumb and index fingers. Twisting it and tugging it very slightly. “Peter!” You moaned out, rubbing your ass against Peter lower half, giggling when you felt his bulge poking through his pants.

“I need to see your pretty face when I fuck my cock into you.” Peter groaned, “Would you like that, baby? Hm? You want my thick cock ramming inside of this pathetic little pussy of yours?” He smirks as he undoes his belt, pulling the pants down enough for him to pull out his erected cock, finding it entertaining watching you fold under him. “Yes! Oh god, yes please! Fuck me, Peter..” You trailed off at the end. Suddenly a wave of boldness came over you, “Unless if I just call Mark right now and have him fuck me instead—“

You cut yourself off with a cry of pure bliss when you felt Peter force himself into you with the help of your wetness as a lubricant. Your hands flew onto the glass, palms spread flat out on the surface as Peter gripped at your hips, pulling out till the tip was barely left in, only to slam himself into you with full force. “Fuck! Peter!” You moaned, your breasts pushed up against the glass window, your chest twitching due to the friction of your nipples rubbing against the surface. “Who can fuck you like this, hm? Who can fuck this pussy?” Peter grunts into your ear, repeatedly slamming his hips against your ass. “You, Peter! Oh fuck, it’s you!” You cry out, already feeling your legs buckling.

You couldn’t think of anything besides the feeling of Peter’s cock ramming into you. Filling you up perfectly. You were already on edge due to the teasing from earlier. You felt like a bucket being filled up, on the brim of tipping over. “Peter, slow down. I’m getting close.” You beg, using one of your hands to reach back and push against Peter’s pelvis. But rather than slowing down, Peter ignored the pleas from his wife and instead thrusted faster, his balls slapping against your cunt. “Oh god! P-please! I’m gonna cum!” You moaned out loud, shaking your head frantically.

Peter abruptly pulls out, catching you in his arms when you’re legs collapsed on themselves. “N-no..” You whined out pathetically when you felt your orgasm was ripped away from you. Peter picks you up in his arms, carrying you to a nearby table that was placed against the wall along the hallway. He sets you down on the marble table, placing himself in between your legs. “Look at me, beautiful. Who makes you this stupid when fucking you?” Peter asks, his tone sweet ironically compared to what he’s asking. “You, Peter.” You smile, wrapping your arms around the male’s neck. “Good girl.” He praises, pecking your mascara stained cheek.

He lines himself up to your gaping hole, pushing in once more, groaning. “Fuck, my baby’s pussy is so warm and tight. Look at it pulling my cock in.” He laughs. Once he fully bottomed out, his hip began snapping against yours. Squelching sounds fills the hallway along with the obscene noises that left your mouth. “I’m going to cum soon, baby.” Peter moaned out. You tightly wrapped your legs around Peter’s hips, locking him in a tight space. “I’m gonna cum in this little pussy of yours. Gon’ fill you up to the brim, fuck!‘M gonna fuck my babies into you.” Peter groans, laughing when he felt you clench tightly around him. “Oh yeah? You like the thought of me fucking my cum so deep inside of you? Getting you pregnant, hm? Your belly round and full of my kids?” He says, “Oh, fuck, yes! Please cum inside of me!” You plead, breasts bouncing with every harsh thrust Peter makes. “I’m.. gonna get you pregnant.” Peter breathes out, his thrusts beginning to get sloppy.

“I-I’m cumming!” You cried out, “Lets come together, love.” Peter moans, his thrusts quickening just for a few moments until it came to a full stop. “Fuck, Y/N!” He says as he came, his cock pulsating inside of you. Thick spurts of white, warm cum shot inside of you. Coating your insides with his seed.

“Peter!” You came straight after. Your eyes rolling back as one last moan that sounded like it came straight from a porno emitted from you. Your legs fully tightening around Peter hips, making sure to squeeze out every single drop of cum from the male. You felt yourself tipping over inside, a wave of pleasure coursing throughout your body, leaving you twitching.

Peter slowly pulls out once he felt himself go limp inside of you. He leaned over to embrace you into his arms, holding you close to him. “Happy birthday, Peter.” You giggle, pecking his cheek. “Thank you, love. Let’s get you fixed up before we go back downstairs, okay?” He suggests, moving a strand of hair away from your face. “But I’m pretty sure they’ve heard you. ‘Oh, fuck, yes! Please cum inside of me!’” Peter playfully mocks. You gasp and punched him in the arm, “Oh shut up!” You whine, hiding your face in Peter’s shoulder. “I hate you.” You mumble, “No you don’t. You love me.” Peter laughs, helping you wear your dress correctly.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Direct Message - TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

[2K Followers 'Clue' Special]

SUMMARY: A healthy relationship means you trust each other but the healthiest relationship is poking fun at anyone trying to hook up with either of you... right?

WORDCOUNT: ~0.5k

In a miraculous turn of events, your kitchen did not burn down due to Peter’s actions. No one lost a finger and neither did the recipe turn out to be bogus. The veggie stock with dumplings was simmering on the stove, filling the flat with a mouth-watering aroma. Your stomach grumbled quietly. The fifteen minutes of waiting were going to be torture.

Sitting on the counter, you were silently watching Peter putting away the dirty utensils and ingredients. He still had his sleeves rolled up from cooking. There wasn’t anything, in particular, you were thinking about - school, family, the plot of the book you were reading… Just passing, unimportant thoughts. Judging by his expressionless face, he wasn’t any more troubled than you were.

Your phone vibrated on the counter, eliciting a low thrum. Rather out of habit than genuine interest, you looked at the lit-up screen. A message. Reading the less-than-savoury text, a grimace appeared on your face. “Dear Lord, what on God’s green Earth is this.”

“What’s up?” Peter asked walking to you. He leaned against the counter with one hand. His curious gaze studied your profile.

"Remember that guy that hit me up like last month?” Peter gave you a confused look. Truthfully, neither of you paid much mind to people interested in the other. “The basketball dude?”

His face momentarily lit up. "Yeah, what about him?"

"He hit me up again."

Peter burst into laughter. A lovely sound. "What?!” he asked in disbelief. “Show me."

You opened the phone and Peter leaned his head against yours to get a good look at the screen. An enticing fragrance of spicy cologne mixed with flowery laundry detergent filled your nostrils. Unknowingly, you took in a deep inhale.

"See?“ You vaguely pointed at the newest text. “Your boyfriend doesn't have to know',” you said in a mocking voice. “The Hell do I look like? Secret Service?"

He looked at you with a strange glint in his eyes. "I mean, he's got good taste, gotta give him that."

You entertained him with a giggle. Taking a step forward, Peter found himself standing between your legs, hands lingering around your waist. He gave you a playful grin.

“You too." Enjoying this sudden intimacy, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Peter leaned in explicitly close but before he would indulge in this lack of personal space, he simply had to murmur something cheesy. “Oh, please. He’s a fanboy, I am a connoisseur.”

His warm lips gently moved against yours. One of his hands travelled from your waist to your jaw, firmly cupping it. The surrounding world, like mist on a summer morning, seemed to dissolve.

The repetitive sound of the lid slamming against the pot made you divert your attention. You turned your head slightly to the side to free your mouth but Peter was hardly affected by that. Feverishly, he continued peppering your face with kisses.

“Babe, aren’t the dumplings boiling over?” you whispered to him.

He didn’t even glance in the direction of the pot. Peter’s warm breath brushed against your cheek as he chuckled before kissing you again. “Nah.”

I've got one Bad News and two Good News. The Good News: 1) We're a handful of souls away from hitting 2k. 2) I'm 4k words into a sci-fi novel. The Bad News: I don't know if I have depression or ADHD but one of those for sure

[mrsbrookemunson]

Spider-Man | Andrew!Peter x Fem!Reader

Prompt: This is when Peter Parker gets his powers in the movie, except you're right there with him as his best friend.

Genre: Fluff with underlying angst

Warnings: Swearing, canon fighting, mentions of injuries (Reader gets hit in the face with a skateboard, and whacked in the stomach with a pole), Peter's low key kind of mean to the reader (but cares), arguments, Peter likes Gwen, implied chubby!reader, it is the subway, and aftermath scene from the movie. Definitely a few typos

Word Count: 3445

A/N: I actually wrote a whole bestfriend!reader x Peter Parker series and never posted it, so let me know if you want part two.

| Part One | Part Two |

It all happened when Peter Parker said he was going to try to find some Dr. Conners that knew his dad back in the day, plain and simple. And me being the bestest friend I am, I waited at a coffee shop—did all my homework, not to brag… it’s a process!—so that he didn’t have to go home—which happens to be next to mine—on the subway alone. Plain. And. Simple.

“There you are!” I exclaimed, happily. “You know when someone says they’re five minutes away, I’d like to believe they are indeed… five minutes away.” I stood up, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my coat, the chill air having not gone away in the city of New York for a while.

Peter gave me an apologetic smile. “Sorry! I just… have a lot on my mind, and I’m tired,” he explained, sounding distant.

I narrowed my eyes at him in question. He definitely seems off. “Ah, it’s okay, you know I can’t stay mad at you.” I widely smiled, slapping him on the arm which causes him to jolt. “So, how was it?” Did you find Dr. Conners?” 

He nodded, “I did.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, “And?” 

“And–what? We didn’t talk, I couldn’t get him alone.” 

I frowned. “Next time then…” I assured. “Anything else that happened that I should know about?” 

He shook his head. “Nothing of importance.” His lips twitched up for a second afterwards. “But… Gwen Stacy was there.” 

My heart hammered, “That girl you’re madly in love with?” 

He laughed my statement off, awkwardly. “I’m not in love with her,” he protested weakly. “Just interested is all.” 

I let out an absentminded hum.

At that moment the train came hustling in with an abrupt stop.

Saved by the subway.

“Shall we?” I tilted my head towards it.

“We shall,” he replied. 

If I knew that Peter would’ve fallen asleep on the train, I also wouldn’t have drifted off… but I did… honestly… kind of worth it.

His feet were elevated, resting against the wall beside my head in his lying down position. I, on the other hand, was sitting upright, my neck craned back in a very uncomfortable manner. I was surprised we both dozed with the group of drunks beside us causing a ruckus. The group, stupidly, danced and laughed, the smell of cigarettes and beer burned my nostrils. 

Suddenly I was woken up when Peter made a harsh movement up.

What I didn’t expect to see was him attached to the roof of the transport. “P–Peter?” I rubbed my eyes in the slight chance I was dreaming. 

Everyone stared at him in a tense silence, including me. 

Peter looked at his hands which stuck onto the metal, hesitantly letting go, sending him down to the ground. “Are you okay?” I asked, concerned, kneeling down beside him to help him up.

“Yeah,” he answered, unsure. “You did see that right?” 

I opened my mouth to answer, but get cut off by one of the girls present, “Disgusting, now I smell my beer.” 

I had to resist the strong urge to roll my eyes. Because that’s what’s important. 

Peter, being Peter, looked at her in alarm, and guilt. “Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.” He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to…” His voice dragged when he tried to pull his hand away. 

“Peter?” I eyed him, weirded out at the turn of events that took place 

“I didn’t–I didn’t,” he stuttered, still struggling his hand away.

An older man walked up to Peter, a tough persona displayed. “Get your hand off her!” he commanded.

Peter looked at the man, fearfully. 

“I’m trying to get my—”

“Can’t you see he’s trying!” I shouted. 

The guy, now angry, pushed Peter away from the girl, his hand took her shirt along with him. A couple of the surrounding guys laughed, staring.

“Well, that’s one way of getting your hand off of her,” I joked, but Peter didn’t react. 

The man that pushed Peter gets more riled up from this action, “Are you kidding?” 

Peter held onto one of the hand bars that he was previously rammed into, looking away from the girl, respectfully. “I’m sorry.” He raised a hand back, her shirt still latched onto the palm of his hand.

“Are you freakin’ kidding me?!” the man shouted.

“Hey! It’s not his fault,” I argued in his defense. “Can’t you see he was trying to? Technically you were the one that pushed him, which led to the accidental taking off of this… lady’s shirt, so–technically–it’s your fault.” 

I noticed in the corner of my eye Peter trying to pull his hand away from the hand bar just as I heard, “Hey, get him, Rudy, I got the girl.” 

“What?!” I raised my hands up in defense. “Isn’t this whole thing about sticking up for women?” 

“Hey!” Ignoring my words the man threw a punch towards Peter who raised a swift leg, kicking the man past me and onto another bench. The man groaned in pain.

“Woah,” I let out, breathless as the man fell to the ground.

“Man, I’m sorry! Oh, man, are you all right?” Peter rambled, turning to look at him.

As if he knew, Peter pushes up kicking another guy that had just about lunged at him, the momentum of it ended with him on his back.

“Take him down! Come on,” a woman shouted.

“Woah hold on–ah!” 

I was about to step in when another guy charged towards Peter who kicked up at the guy, doing a kip up, effortlessly landing on his feet. All with still holding onto the hand rail. “Get him, man! Get him!” 

There was only one guy left standing, his head whipping to the skateboard on the ground, Peter ever-so-slightly shook his head, eyeing it upsettingly. “No, man, no. Not my board,” he pleaded.

I was just about to grab it when the guy got it first in a flash, winding it back.

“Please, dude, don’t—” Peter didn’t finish his sentence as it was about to hit him, but the impact never came. “Y/n—You!” 

Of course, during this part all I saw was pitch black darkness, Peter–thankfully–filled me in on what happened after I was ejected from existence… I can still feel the pain.

The guy with the skateboard still in hand, attempted to swing at Peter for a second time, but Peter manages to kick up once again, and swung around to straddle his own arms in a bent position. Much to Peter’s dismay, the pole broke from the ground, nearly hitting me…

Oh wait—

First he hit the guy who started it all right where the sun didn't shine. “Sorry. Sorry.” Then another guy in the jaw. “Oh.” He turns to look at all the guys lifeless on the ground. “I am so sorry.” And then—

“I’m alive–UGH!” I crouched down, holding my stomach.

Peter finally gained the ability to drop the pole, staring down at his hand in shock.

Coney Island, next stop, the conductor’s voice resonated through the poorly made speakers, repeating it. 

“A little help down here,” I squeaked.

Peter snapped his attention to me who was… in a lot of pain. “Oh my—” he cut himself off, rushing to me. “Oh my God, I am so sorry, are you okay? Does it hurt? Of course it hurts, you were hit with a skateboard. Can you remember things? What’s your name? What is my name?” He took my face into his hands, inspecting it carefully. “Why the Hell did you do that? You definitely have a concussion.”

“Peter! Everyone is staring.” I covered his hands which have yet to pull away from my cheeks that felt as though they were on fire. 

Peter opened his mouth, but no words came out, shutting it. “Do you think your aunt would be okay if you spent the night?” 

“As long as we use protection,” I teased.

Peter’s eyes widened in embarrassment.

“Oh–I didn’t mean–it’s just my aunt always says to… nevermind.”

It was a long ride to the Parker residence from there.

Peter practically sprinted off of the train when we arrived. “Peter!” I screamed due to the amount of distance he put between us. 

“Oh, right!” He ran back, not wasting anymore time. “Hop on my back!” 

I blinked a few times, “Wh-What?” 

“Hop on… my back.” He set his backpack on the ground. “I literally just ripped a metal pole out of the ground, I can carry you.” 

I hesitated. “You’ve never been able to carry me before,” I pointed out, sadly. “Not to mention I have a backpack that weighs at least 50 pounds.

“Don’t say it like that, please, you’re probably lighter than air, it’s my fault I’m so weak,” he begs. “Let’s just try.” 

“I hate trying.” 

“I know you do,” he dismissed, turning around, and kneeling.

“If this goes poorly…” I dragged.

Peter didn't respond, as I cautiously wrapped my legs to straddle his back. 

“Okay I–woah!” I gasped when he stood upright. “Okay, okay, okay, you’re holding me up, that’s…” 

“Just hold on tight.” 

I do as he said, wrapping my arms around his neck, and intertwining my legs around his torso. “Why? You aren’t going to—No!” I shrieked when he starts to sprint again. “Peter!” I tighten edmy grip around him, my face nestled into the crook of his neck. “How are you doing this right now?” I asked, hinting at the fact he’s running with me on his back, with my backpack on, while carrying his backpack, and skateboard, which apparently broke at the second hit at him. It broke off of him.

Can’t deny all of it was attractive, well… what I saw before I was knocked out.

“How did I do any of that stuff?” 

I opened my mouth to reply with something clever, but nothing formed. 

“See?” he laughed.

I noticed that his face was starting to break out into a cold sweat. “Peter? You’re sweating. I knew this would be too much for you—”

“No! I think it’s the shock, the reaction. You know…” He began to slow down. “I am not beginning to feel too well,” he admitted, starting to stumble a little.

“Okay, you need to let me go. “

“It’s not you, I swear!” 

“I’m not saying it is, we’re almost at your house Peter, we can walk from here.” 

Giving in, he let me go. And looking at him… he didn’t look too good. Well, he always looks good, but I mean like… he looks ill. “It wasn’t you…” he reassured, shaking his head, spastically. 

“Let’s just… get you home, okay?” 

I go to grab his hand, but he jerked away. What is happening right now?

We arrived at his house. I opened the door, and ushered Peter inside whilst closing the door behind us. “Uh, hey,” Peter greeted. “Hey, hey.” He walked off without me.

I scrambled to keep up with his long strides as he met up with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. 

“Sorry. I’m late–and–uh Y/n's here too.” He gestured toward me as I peak my head around the corner. “We got—” 

“We’ve been so worried.” Aunt May stood to block him with a stern expression. “Your aunt too, Y/n!” She pointed to me who sported a sheepish smile. 

My eyes looked down at my phone which I had yet to pull out tonight, cringing at the number of voicemails and messages. I sent her a quick one back that I was safe and would be staying the night at Peter’s. “Use protection,” I read my Aunt Yelena’s text in a hushed tone.

“I know. I’m sorry. Watch out!” 

I looked up in alarm to see Peter catch something about the size of a fingernail, if not smaller. My feet got the better of me as I made my way towards Peter’s raised hand that rested in front of May’s face to get a better look. My body pushed up just beside Peter’s… I don’t think he noticed.

The fly buzzed as a beat of silence went by, Peter not being able to look at anything besides the insect just in between the pads of his thumb and pointer finger. 

“That’s a fly, Peter,” Aunt May commented, her hands pressed against her chest, scared.

Peter, for sure out of it, let go, waving his hand in the air. “Yeah,” he responded, carelessly. 

It flew around his head, his eyes following it carefully. “Nice catch,” I whispered. He jumped, dramatically, looking at me as if I was a ghost before looking back at Aunt May.

He wiped his bottom lip, preparing as if to say something, “I’m so sorry I kept you guys up,” he paused. “I’m insensitive, I’m irresponsible, and I’m hungry.” He goes to push past Aunt May, pressing a kiss on her cheek, and handing her half his broken board in the process. 

Aunt May and Uncle Ben looked at me for answers, but I could only supply them a weak chuckle. Ben stood up to position himself next to May in the doorway of the kitchen, fitting myself right in between them.

The three of us watched as Peter dug out a yellow plate of what looked to be May’s meatloaf, unwrapping it, then proceeding to eat as if he hasn’t eaten anything in days, letting out breaths of relief. Was I somehow finding this attractive? Yes. “Drinking?” May questioned, eyes glancing at me as a quick analysis to see if I was in the same shape.

Ben, grasped the concept, and looked at me as well. I gave him a helpless shrug. 

“What’s this?” Peter asked.

“I don’t think so,” Ben answered to May.

“This is your meat loaf,” Peter concluded chuckling, continuing to lean against the opened fridge door. “This beats all other meat loafs.” 

Ben and I gave each other pointed looks of acknowledgement of his words.

“Something is very wrong,” May observed 

“Yeah,” Ben started.

“Nobody likes your meat loaf,” Ben and I finished at the same time.

May looked at us both in slight irritation, her previous concerned expression dropping.

I don’t even know how it happened but the next time I saw Peter he was carrying at least seven courses, including ice cream and–is that frozen mac n’ cheese?

Peter slid past the three of us, nearly dropping one of the containers which May immediately reached out to catch, but the crook of Peter’s elbow did the job for her. “I got it,” he affirmed. 

“He took the frozen macaroni and cheese,” May voiced.

“I noticed that,” Ben responded.

Ben and May looked at me with another interrogative gaze. 

I sucked on my teeth for a moment, “I really can’t answer that for you.” 

May looked at Ben and I with a more threatening appearance. “Why didn’t you guys tell me you didn’t like my meat loaf? Especially you Ben!” 

“Um…” He gaped at her.

“You could have said that to me 37 years ago—” 

“Y/n!” Peter called out from his room.

“You’re on your own Uncle Ben.” I saluted him, making a haste exit away from the conversation.

When I got to Peter’s room I didn’t find him. “Peter?” 

“In here,” a muffled voice says. 

I went to the bathroom, opening and closing the door to see him splashing water on his face. “Peter, what the hell was that all about?” 

“I don’t know,” he sighed.

He stared at his reflection, his hand reaching up at the collar of his shirt, connecting his fingers to something. 

“What’s that?” I took a step toward him to inspect. “It looks like—like a string.” 

He pulled at it, my eyes meeting what looked to be, “a bite.” 

He pulled on the string, a groan of pain escaping past his lips. He goes to look at it, a mixture of emotions flashing across his eyes as it now appear to resemble more of a web than a string. His eyebrows twitched up, as his eyes followed the trail that lead from his right hand to his left. He shuddered a couple of times. I didn’t dare to speak a word, rather just watched, but when I saw the dead spider at the end I nearly screamed. 

He looked away from it, blinking twice until they fully close.

“Peter,” I breathed. “You need to go to a hospital, that spider could’ve been deadly.” 

He shook his head now looking at me. I traced out his eyes that were bloodshot, a dark shadow casting underneath them. “No, we do not speak of this. I just–I just need some rest. You–you should go home.” 

I look at him taken aback. “Yeah. Right. Like I would ever leave you alone knowing this. What if you have a seizure or something? What if your skin starts burning holes? What if—” 

“I get it!” he snapped. “Fine. You can stay.” 

I gave him a proud smile. “Cool, see you in your room.” I smoothly winked at him, skipping off to allow him a second to himself. What a twist of events.

Beep—

I jumped up when Peter abruptly slammed his fist down on his alarm clock, the whole thing blowing up into bits. “Holy—my God, Peter, you—” My eyes set on the broken pieces of the poor alarm clock that got a taste of his newfound strength, coughing a little from the smoke 

His head burrowed into the pillow he had laying on the ground.

Despite having slept in the same bed multiple times, with said new strength Peter argued against it this time, claiming he'd accidentally hurt me in his sleep. With that said, he refused to have me sleep on the floor with my obvious concussion. “How are you feeling?” I asked. 

Groggily he got up, storming out, and to the bathroom.

It was less than a minute later when I heard him let out a small cry. “Peter?” I opened the door to see water shooting out from the faucet. “What did you do?” I closed the door in case either May or Ben decided to walk by. 

“Do you really need me to answer that?!” he replied, angry. He reached for the towel beside the sink, when the holder for it ripped off the wall. 

“Peter, just calm down!” I attempted to ease, as he frantically spun around. 

He tried to cover the broken faucet with the piece that he ripped off, eventually throwing the towel over it. His hand went toward the doorknob to the cabinet only to have that also be broken off. In defeat he looked at me.

“How about you try to open this door—” I knock edon the wood behind me, “—as carefully as possible?” 

He hesitated, but when I moved out of the way for him to obey, he walked up, only the tips of his fingers holding the doorknob, delicately turning it. Not without another look at me he left, slamming the door. “Thanks Peter,” I huffed, walking out of the bathroom.

When I went into Peter’s room I found him sitting on his bed, toothbrush in one hand, and the doorknob in the other. 

“Peter…?” I took soft steps toward him. 

He jolted up, turning his head to the side, frantically. He stared at something in horror. He jolted again, moving his whole body to turn toward his window, the blinds were down, the room dim. He held his toothbrush out in front of him as some form of defense. Realizing what he’s doing, he stood up. “I have to get to the bottom of this,” he told me. 

“You can say that again,” I laughed, going to his computer. 

His foot connected to a piece of paper which he struggled to get off. “You–you don’t have to—” he stammered when I offered to get it for him. “Thanks,” he muttered, sitting on his desk chair.

His typing was faster than lightning, looking up every possible thing about spiders and their bites. Nothing matching his problem. He lightly touches the bite on the back of his neck, a sudden impulse going through him as he typed, ‘Richard parker spider’, but it seemed to fade into random letters.

Peter and I both looked down at his hands which he lifts. Some of the keys, including the spacebar, stuck to his fingers. “Sticky like a spider,” I thought out loud. “You’re like a spider, but a man,” I paused, my tongue darting out to swipe over my lips in concentration. “A Spider-Man.” 

Comment to be added to the taglist !!

For those who used to be on my taglist and see this, please comment if you want to be on it again, as I have not written in a while and don't know what you're into now. Thank you.

[scorpiomother]

APOCALYPSE (pt. one)

summary: harry osborn sets you up on a blind date with his best friend, peter parker. peter isn’t too interested in the date, but can’t say no to coming home with you.

word count: 6.4k

warnings: explicit content. minors dni (+18) unprotected sex.

a/n: hope you all enjoy chapter one! unedited and just for fun! took forever to finally complete this! (: - s

playlist 𓆩♡𓆪 mood board 𓆩♡𓆪 read on ao3 𓆩♡𓆪 series list

CATALYST

“Do you want to come over?” Begging viridescent eyes pleaded for you to agree. But you knew better than that. To make a deal with the devil.

Harry Osborn was just some stuck-up rich kid with daddy's money. He was pretentious and you knew it the first time you met him during your interview to be his intern. Somehow, you qualified for more than an internship and he enjoyed your presence enough to request you as his secretary. You should’ve declined the position, but a job is a job, right? And who’s to deny a job with a convenient paycheck when you were living in America’s most expensive city? Not you, because you’re not dumb. But now, sometimes it felt like he just hired you as some eye candy or someone to permanently bug. Perhaps, both.

“I’m over here, aren’t I?” You huffed out.

He shook his head in annoyance but the grin on his face said otherwise. This was a common occurrence between you two. The usual game of cat and mouse. You both teased and asserted dominance and no one in particular ever wins. “Come over to my place tonight, Y/N.”

“Wow. Pretty straight to the point, Harry. Got tired of asking me out on a date?” You pouted.

“Y/N, I’m serious.” His body weight shifted to the door frame that led to his office. His arms were crossed as he leaned against the frame.

“And I’m serious when I told you I don’t go out with guys like you, Harry.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His eyes are locked in with yours. It’s a staring contest between you two and you would be damned if you lost. 

You let your tongue wet your bottom lip before telling him why everything about you two would be a bad idea. “You get everything you want.” You leaned forward against the desk, letting your breast spill over. Your eyebrows furrowed as you gave Harry the best doe eyes you possibly could as if the words you said weren’t meant to sting. “But I also get everything I want. So, someone would have to lose eventually. And I hate losing.”

Though he has been kind to you and relatively easy on the eyes, you weren’t going to have unprofessional relations with the man who signs your check. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t have fun with him, right? He was practically blonde and cheeky. Easy to talk to and good-looking. He had a sexy tired look, dark circles with enticing eyes that you could just swim in. Sometimes, the way he caught glimpses of you made your heart skip. How could you not at the very least flirt with him a little? 

“So I can’t have you?” It didn’t quite come out as a question. The way it slips out of his devilish grin made you want to succumb to him and tell him you can have all of me. But this wasn’t the first time you had to deal with him and his snide remarks. He smiled with such confidence as if he knows he will have you one day and you just don’t know it yet.

“You’re my boss, Mr. Osborn. I’m not dating my boss.”

“Who said anything about dating?” Harry thought he was slick when he quickly glanced at your exposed chest and back into your eyes. You may have won the staring contest but now for all you know, Harry was thinking about your chest. And that’s a win for him.

The game no longer feels fun and you squashed any semblance of sexual tension with a roll of your eyes and slouch back into the chair. “Is this why you hired me? To prey and harass me?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Then what’s your type?”

“Why?”

“Just answer, Y/N.”

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

You didn’t realize that out of all the people in the world, Harry Osborn was going to be setting you up on a blind date. A part of you felt like it was going to be a sick joke and Harry, himself, was going to walk through that door. Your supposed date was late and you felt yourself getting stood up. This man didn’t even know you and still bailed on you.

You blew air onto the once-steaming tea between your hands. It was cold now, but it was a habit to just blow on it. If you had something to keep you busy then possibly, the anticipated anxiety wouldn’t bubble over. That was the theory at least.

The cafe was quiet and dim. You noticed how the clouds slowly pulled over the sky, hiding the sun behind its grey. The April showers were more frequent now and you were smart enough to bring an umbrella in preparation for when they came. There was a bell that chimed when the door opened. You brought your attention towards the entrance to see a lanky boy in a grey jacket that ate him up. With wandering eyes, he looked around the cafe searching for someone. “Y/N?”

When he called your name it was like a command to you. Your legs pushed you up from the chair. You forced yourself to speak. “Hi?”

He towered over you with his slender and long limbs. He looked scrawny and sweet, his resemblance close to a puppy. In his grasp were a skateboard and a backpack perched on a shoulder. A sheepish smile spread across his face. “I’m Peter. I’m sorry I was late.”

“It’s okay. Y/N, but… You already knew that, though.”

Clear, barely-there-pink polish is chipping at your nails and it’s taking every ounce of you to not peel it off. Being focused on this date was the last thing you wanted to do. He took a seat across from you and took a second to drink you in. Your fingers grasped tighter onto your mug as if it would comfort you and help you make it through this situation. You thought that maybe you wanted it to be a joke so you wouldn’t have to try to woo over this man. It was easier to stay in your comfort zone than meet a handsome stranger at a coffee shop in Brooklyn.

The introductions and small talk were stiff, but you learned that he was in his third year of college for Biophysics and was extremely smart despite his overall lack of confidence. Harry listened to you when you said you liked nerdy boys and it was surprising that Harry could do anything remotely selfless or maybe you just underestimated him.

You felt your throat getting drier and drier as the conversation between you two continued. You wished that you were less observant and more naive. Then you would believe the date was going just fine. Then the bitter taste in your throat would be nothing but the oolong tea you’re nursing or even just a strange coincidental sensation. But every time you took a good look at Peter, his eyes never met yours and his pupils looked almost lifeless. You assumed it was the lack of confidence to excuse his averting eyes and closed-off personality, but you realized it was the lack of interest. He was just going through the motions and seemingly, to him, you were not a real human being with tangible emotions.

You attempted to keep up the intrigued act but you feel it slowly faltering. “Wow, so you work at the Daily Bugle? That’s awesome.”

“Yeah, but you know. I just take pictures,” he said modestly. 

You were waiting for something significant to happen. A phone call. Sudden closure of the coffee shop. A car crashing into the window. His eyes were wavering and his disinterest was clear. It would be a good time to suddenly combust into a million pieces of shame, considering you thought he was extremely cute. You wanted to be pulled away from this experience and give him a regretful oh no, I have to go!

Peter cleared his throat before taking a sip of his coffee. “So how do you know Harry?” 

“Unfortunately, he’s my boss. You?”

“Right. You work at OSCORP. I should’ve put that together…But, I guess you could say we’re best friends,” he shrugged like it was no big deal.

You laughed softly to yourself, “Harry Osborn is someone's best friend?”

“I think the same thing every day,” you were both smiling to yourselves, never looking up from the table. The topic of Harry has him perked up. “When we first met, mind you we were children, he had a wad of cash in his tiny baby hands and with all seriousness, he said, ‘be my friend’ and tried to give it to me!”

You feel bubbly from the thought of it. In disbelief, you said, “No way.”

“Yeah! He thought he could just buy me!”

“You were a baby escort!” You made a sour face.

“Exactly!” He shook his head, his eyes crinkling and cheeks starting to burn. Your hands were covering your smirk in an attempt to smother a cackle. 

“What did you say to him?”

“I said ‘you can’t buy friends.’ And he said ‘watch me!’ Then, he walked up to some other kid and handed him the money. He stuck his tongue out as if he bought the greatest, most loyal friend of all time!”

“He gave you that smug look, didn’t he? The one where he thinks he won.”

“Yes! That’s the one! The stupid look. And then the next day he had the audacity to bug me about how the kid wasn’t being a good friend!” Peter’s smile was radiating. It felt so warm.

“Of course not.” You’re amused with the thought of Harry as a child and it shows on your face. You’re pleased to have this new ammunition for the next time you see him. “Not much has changed with him, huh?”

“No. Not at all.” He said reminiscing.

You were simmering down from that spark and the quietness sat between you two once again. If you had been blind, then you could say the chemistry was starting to blossom. He was charming once the conversation was flowing. But as you stare at this man, you find him more and more inscrutable as his smile faded.

“Are you okay?” Your lips moved without realizing it.

“Oh?” He tilted his head in confusion, his eyes on your twiddling fingers, “Yeah, why do you ask?”

“You just seem… Like you’re not into this.”

“Ah, shit… Is it that obvious?” His eyebrows raised in surprise when it comes out like it wasn’t him who said it. “Shit. Not that I’m not not into this- Into you! I’m just… I have a lot on my mind right now and I-”

You gave him a nod, an uneasiness in you pulling at your mouth. “Peter, it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just…”

“It’s okay,” you reassured him once more. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

He finally brought himself to look at you, really look at you. His brown whisky eyes glowed into yours for the first time. You felt yourself getting drunk off of his whisky eyes and your belly stirred with warmth. This stammering idiot was making your heartbeat without words or actions. A simple look was all it took.

At this point, it was dark out from the lingering clouds, and most patrons in the cafe had left. It was silent and you were worried he could hear your heart pounding. His eyes were the first to look away. You licked your lips, hoping this would reward you with another glance. “I should probably go.”

He nodded his head without looking at you, the apathetic mask secured tightly onto his face. Your heart dropped in disappointment. The moment you shared with him was nothing but a moment. Fleeting and gone.

“I’ll walk you,” he said.

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

Walking to your apartment in silence was one way to do it, but it was definitely the most awkward way to go about it. It was late into the afternoon and you felt as though you wasted a perfectly good Saturday with this indifferent man. With him walking by your side, you noticed he’s significantly taller than Harry by a couple of inches.

The air was balmy and the streets were no busier or quieter than usual. There were clicks coming from your heels, the impact from the hard concrete being the only thing you could focus on. Your eyes were glued to your Doc Martens, Peter’s converse sauntering through the streets in your peripheral. You were hyper-fixated on avoiding anything that looked suspicious and that included harmless green gum that stuck to the pavement. It was better to worry about your cleanliness than this terrible date that Harry had set you up on. Harry wanted you to see that no one compares to him and that you should just give him a chance. That’s what you thought and you were embarrassed to tell him how the date went.

You avoided any cracks in the concrete, a game that normally keeps you grounded, but at this moment you used it to distract yourself. Drops of liquid made the concrete look like it has a terrible case of chicken pox. The darker grey spots start to fill up the surface area. There’s a drop of wetness dripping from your forehead to your cheek, looking almost like you were shedding a single tear. You heard a mumble of fuck come from Peter. He was slightly ahead of you, the back of his head in your vision.

“Oh, I have an umbrella.” Your voice came out more hoarse than you intended. 

Peter’s head shook in disagreement, allowing you to catch the slight frown on his face. “No. We have to go before it starts to get worse.”

“What? But I have an umbrella?” You started reaching into your tote bag before Peter took your wrist, and suddenly he was dragging you behind his slender legs.

Once you realized the two of you were running, you took repossession of your hand and started letting your strides get bigger in an attempt to keep up with his long limbs. Taking a deep breath, you caught a whiff of fresh rain and good ol’ city sewer that you’re normally able to ignore. The New York streets were ingrained into your senses, but on damp days the smell and essence of millions of people and rats permeated the air more intensely.

“Peter?” You called out to him, worried.

“Just run!” Peter replied without looking back, and though he could easily leave you in your tracks, he purposely kept a pace that is manageable for you. You’re stuck thinking, where did this sudden sense of urgency come from?

The light rain drops that tenderly grazed against your cheeks turned into pricks of needles hailing from above. The umbrella that weighed down your now soggy bag was mocking you. Your wet fingers were twitching to pull it out and shield you from the sudden downpour, but like a loyal and obedient dog, you adhered to Peter’s command. Just run. And so you followed him down the saturated streets that led to your apartment.

The feeling of your cardigan got heavier on your back, the rain permeating through the wool, spawning a shiver down your neck. “You must really not like rain!”

“Hate it!” He said. “It’s my camera!” He glanced back at you, his dark hair sopping and sticking to his forehead. He throws his thumb back, gesturing to his bag. And despite him and his backpack being drenched, the once apathetic man is now beaming with ecstasy. “You okay?”

“I’m okay,” you seemed to get out, appalled by the caprice of his mood. The analogous of nothing to everything with the weather and Peter stirred something in you. Your thoughts were stuck on the way that Peter will give you no crumb of himself and then like the weather, pour out all he is into you and give you the brightest smile a man could give. And that was everything to you.

“Take a right here!” You yelled to him. 

Turning onto the new street was atrocious with people pressing up against each other and umbrellas crashing against other umbrellas. It was human traffic. Peter reached out for your hand more gently this time. His worry for his camera has dissipated as he respectfully followed the traffic flow. He didn’t shove or push his way out or yell at people to get out of his way. He was gentle with how he held your hand. This gives you a second to catch your breath but it feels humid and sticky as everyone waddles past each other like penguins.

When you reached the end of the block, a red light deterred any movement. Your hand was still glued to Peter’s and whether it was intentional or not, you were thankful. Unlike the rest of your body, your hand was warm and you were clinging to the warmth Peter shared with you. 

“I was in such a rush, and we ended up being rained on, anyways,” Peter said, eyes cemented on the crosswalk.

For what seemed like the hundredth time, you told him, “It’s okay.” Except, it came out as a pitiful breath. Peter noticed this and you were granted his rare attention. Unfortunately, you were less than graceful at the moment. You were trying your best not to look like you’re heaving from complete enervation. Exhaustion drained your face and it looked like blood was rushing to the apples of your cheek. It was the worst time for him to study you.

In your peripherals, you spot the crosswalk sign turned from bright ruby to white. Your body propelled you forward like the city goers around you, but Peter’s grasp slacked you back towards him. Through the dew on your lashes, you detected the lingering from Peter. His deep umber eyes burned a hole through your face and his thumb brushed against your wrist. Shoulders and elbows are scraping at your sides as people make their way across the street, and yet you stayed right where Peter wanted you.

“Everything’s okay with you, huh?” He said with a genuine smile.

“Your camera.” You said, ignoring his question.

“It’s okay.” Peter dipped his head down, water beading off his forehead. His breath was warm against your lips, provoking your naive heart. Any womanly instincts inside of you were muted, the sound of rainfall and your heartbeat deafening. Your consciousness was instructing you to close the gap, but the weight on your chest denied you any movement. You were motionless, unsure of the situation- unsure of Peter. A sliver of air was the partition that separated your collision. The tip of his nose brushed against yours, a drop of rain from his face trailing down to yours.

What was he thinking? Because God knew you thought he had no interest in you, and here he is. Close enough to inhale your oxygen. Was this the depravity of a man? 

Before you knew it, you were tasting bitter coffee and you never favored the dark brew, but easily you wanted more. It was a pair of impulsive and wet lips. A match of shaky hands and twin hearts both racing past ribs cages. If you could, you would stay there forever kissing Peter until your fingers were pruney and ears frozen.

He was the first to pull away. You were worried he was going to apologize and you had to tell him it was okay, again. Instead, he just smiled. You convinced yourself a spark or two wasn’t going to put you in a romantic daze. A kiss in the rain, however, was something you were going to think about for a long time.

Hoping that this time you earn his full and eager attention, you licked the running dew from your bottom lip. “You know… You’re going to get sick.”

He stared at your parted lips just as you craved. “What do you suppose I do about it?” 

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

It was your turn to drag Peter behind as you lead him to your apartment. You felt giddy and full of anticipation. His hands were tender and intertwined with yours as you took the stairway. When you reach the top of the third floor, wetness dripped down to the tiles and he pulled you into his strong arms. His biceps were thicker than you imagined. 

“Third floor, huh?” He let out a deep exhale, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Tired?” You whispered, lacking any appearance of satirizing, but rather with concern.

His lips tugged upwards, a toothy grin presented to you. “Never.”

The palm of his hands reached your jaw, his touch coercing soft whimpers from you. Peter rewarded you with his tongue, gently parting you open. It was a sight to see him transform. The detached and reserved Peter was now hungry and almost animalistic for you. You were grinding into each other like the push and pull of the ocean. Salt on his neck, wetness pooling at your panties. You haven’t even made it to your apartment yet. 

His strong grasp took you aback. Forceful hands gripping onto your belt loops, beckoning you near to his core. A thick bulge pressed to your lower abdomen, butterflies sprouting at the touch. Your nails dug into his chest fervently before taking a bunch of his hoodie into your clutch. This act of desperation from you urged a groan out from him. Low and reverberating. 

Just a simple proposition was all that it took to rile him up. To you, the obvious solution to avoid getting sick was to remove any wet clothes- and that was all of them at this point. Peter liked that idea. The way his eyes burned into your clothed figure told you that he liked that idea a lot and wasn’t opposed to undressing. Whatever happened after the discarding of clothes was up to his own volition. If you didn't feel chemistry with him an hour ago, you definitely felt it now as his eyes were unwavering from your body. And it was the most apparent when your shaky hands shamefully struggled to enter your apartment key into the hole and behind you, Peter held you gingerly at the sides, whispering, good girl when you finally managed to open your door. 

Maybe, it was just human nature. Whether you had chemistry together or it was just your instincts to survive and reproduce. You didn’t care either way. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Peter was slipping your damp cardigan down to expose your shoulder and pressing a tender-hearted kiss at the peak. You let it fall to the floor, a dull splat echoing as the open air sends goosebumps along your body. Peter's eyes gaped at your chest, your nipples becoming apparent past the sheer top. He wanted them in his mouth and you wanted to watch him suck on them.

You continued to take turns peeling off a drenched article one by one. You were both presenting your bodies to each other. Slowly taking the view in. Preparing for one another’s offering. In one easy motion, Peter threw his shirt over his head to reveal a toned and ripped chest. With his chiseled abs and ravenous eyes, you felt your heartbeat skip like a flat stone against a still river. Just as you were about to pull your underwear down, Peter stopped you.

“Not yet,” he said, pressing his hand against your cheek. He was kissing you again, taking your pride with it. You felt touch starved. Frantic hands grasped onto his muscular physique as if there was no time to memorize each piece of him. He was reluctant to give you pieces of himself, but his body, he gave you effortlessly. You were grateful.

He took a deep inhale into your shoulder, taking in your intoxicating aroma. The way he adored your body was harmful. You could feel yourself wanting more of him and his touch. You were stumbling over each other’s feet, ready to devour one another. Wants were swimming in Peters's head. He wanted to touch you. Wanted to kiss you. Wanted to fuck you upright and horizontally and any other way he could find. Want, want, want. He wanted you. He hoped his tongue conveyed that to you as he licked the nape of your neck.

His hands started at the small of your back. Like molasses, they slowly dripped down your body, a palm finding its way to your thighs. His touch was soft, barely there. Moving up and down on your inner thigh, sending you rushes of pleasure.

The air was filled with arousal. You were trembling as Peter’s hand slithered down your abdomen to the waistband of your panties. Your breath hitched as he put pressure on your clit. His fingers weren’t moving and it made your pussy throb with need. You took matters into your own hands and started rubbing your wet slit onto his hand like a toy. Your hips circled against his pressure.

“So wet for me,” his voice sent electricity down to your cunt. Desperate whines escaped your lips, turning Peter into something of a sex-crazed lunatic. Fucks alluded from his mouth, a mantra for himself to keep his cool. The sight of your bare breast slightly bouncing as you shifted your clit against him made him want to go ballistic. He could barely contain himself, but neither could you.

“Please,” you mewled. “I need your fingers in me.”

“Fuck.” His voice warmed the tips of your ears.

“Please, Peter.” 

“Beg for it.”

“Your fingers in me. I need them so bad,” Your bare chest was moving up and down from the pleasure. Peter couldn’t take his eyes off you, your hips moving against his still hand. “Please.”

His mouth became agape, watching you like prey, just before slipping in his thick middle finger. It went in seamlessly like he has fingered you a million times. Peter’s thumb made its way to your clit and applied the lightest pressure while moving his finger in and out of you. He could feel you tremble against his touch.

Peter’s fingers felt so good. You wondered how his cock would feel. “You’re so wet, Y/N.”

“You make me wet, Peter.” He’s fingerfucking you in your living room. You didn’t even make it to the bedroom, let alone the couch. You were both too consumed in pleasure to lay down nor sit down. You imagined that it was the way you were now addicted to his approval. If he wasn’t smiling at you, then you weren’t satisfied. He was a man with needs. There wasn’t more than that you presumed. It was okay because you were a woman with needs.

“Can’t wait any longer,” he said, pulling his finger out of you. Peter reached for the thin fabric on your hips and undressed you. His boxers were still on, his bulge thick. He was at your feet now and admiring your figure. Admiring your bare cunt.

You suddenly felt shy. Like you forgot how the two of you got into this situation as if it wasn’t your idea. You watched Peter, waiting for his next move. He pressed a soft kiss to your clit before standing up. “Lay down for me.”

For me, he said! The butterflies were surely tossing in your belly. He was taking off his boxers, and a perfect pink cock sprung out. It was hard not to lick your lips, eager for what was to come. With that length, his wish was your command. 

Now, naked on the couch, you were waiting for him. You were ready for this enigma of a man with an incredible body. As he came closer to the couch, he stroked his cock slowly. You watched his hand move up and down. It felt like he was teasing you.

He finally mounted you, his cock resting on your stomach. You could feel the precum leaking onto your skin. You could feel his breath on your cheek. You could feel everything at that moment. Your heartbeat. Your anxiety. The sweat on your temple.

He rubbed his thumb along your forehead, swiping away runaway tendrils of hair. You gave him a nervous closed-mouth smile. He gave you a half smile back, but his chocolate eyes assured you of his enthusiasm. 

His free hand grabbed his cock to guide it into you. Your lack of patience caused you to take it upon yourself to help him. You grasped the back of his hand that held his cock and ushered it closer to your needy pussy. His wet tip grazed against your slit. With his large length in mind, you spread your labia taut while your legs are splayed across the couch. The embarrassment of your need was clear on your face. You couldn’t even be bothered with protection! It had barely reached your mind, but your pussy was aching so desperately for Peter.

You moved your hips up and down against his smooth tip to cover in your wetness. His lips huffed out warm air on your ear. A slight shiver ran down your back as you could feel him press himself deeper. You arched your back, your body confused by this foreign gift. With this new opening, Peter let his hand grasp onto your lower back to help him bring you closer. His cock wasn’t even all the way in and your cunt was aching already.

He was so gracious to let you get used to his cock, pausing any further movement in entering you. His tongue gently played with yours. The taste of coffee was still there. On his lips, on his teeth, and on his tongue. It reminded you of the coffee shop where you had nothing to talk about with him, where chemistry was unfamiliar to you two. And now with rain dew turning into sweat and pheromones, the tip of his cock was making your pussy throb.

“You didn’t tell me you were so big,” you laughed nervously, hiding your face with his shoulder. He ran his hand through your hair tenderly. Almost too tenderly.

“You’re such a good girl. I didn’t think I would need to warn you,” he said. He wanted you to melt into nothing. Melt into his touch. Melt into his words. “I’ll go slow.”

Following a deep inhale, you shook your head. You whispered, “You can do whatever you want with me. I am a good girl.”

A soft laugh escaped from him before eagerly entering into you fully. You were biting your bottom lip at the filling sensation. The pleasure of his cock was encapsulating and overwhelming. 

“Fuck,” Peter grunted. You found yourself whimpering with each thrust. Despite your words and the fire in his eyes, he moved gently. You could feel yourself getting more and more acclimated to his cock, your wetness overflowing.

“You feel so good on my cock,” Peter moaned, his hips circling and hands wandering. You were tangled in his limbs. Your nails gripped onto his back for support. It reminded him of how much power he had over you. How easily he could break you. You wanted to encapsulate this memory into a shoe box of mementos and photographs. Being fucked by Peter was pure heaven.

The room was filled with his grunts and your moans. Your own control of your body was escaping you. Heat buzzed along your belly and your face until he took his cock out of you. A whine immediately left your lips. He was depriving you of the one thing you needed.

“Do you want it?” He breathed out. 

“God. Yes, Peter. I want it,” you were practically begging for him to put it back in. Instead, he latched onto your nipple, sending shivers across your neck. “Peter, please.”

Your slit felt empty and dripping in your own juices. You reached down to grasp onto his thick member but he grabs your wrists, placing them above your head. He was sucking on your nipple while his other hand pumped himself.

He was taking you for everything that you were. Your face was red with embarrassment, but your pussy twitched with need and you needed his cock. 

“I want your cock in me,” you panted, hips trying to catch him. Without noticing it, he was edging you. Brought you to euphoria just to interrupt your almost-firing nerves.

He continued to ignore you, his hands pumping his cock and his teeth rubbing against your sensitive breast. Any longer and you would be bruised with his mark.

“I want to make a mess on your cock.” You let out shamelessly, but fully breathless.

The satisfaction was written all over his face with eyes of fire. “God. If you wanted that, you should’ve just said that,” he grunted and rewarded you with his member. He entered you all at once, pushing his full length into you.

“Fuck!” You gasped.

Your blood rushed towards your core, muscles contracting around his warming cock. The pace naturally started to speed up, being thrusted by Peter had you moaning with no self control. His groans were jagged and loud. His passion was overwhelming. In place of rain, your skin was now drenched in sex and sweat. 

Your core started to clench as he pumped himself into you. Your nails gnawed at his rigid back. “I’m going to cum,” you whined.

Instead of continuing his pace, he got off of you. To feel his cock slide completely out of you left you speechless. You were gasping at the near ecstasy you were about to achieve. It felt so far away. He pissed you off.

Your back sank into the couch as his weight left you. Before reacting, you watched him as your pussy pulsed at the emptiness he left you.

He sat down, leaning his back on the couch. He patted his thigh, coaxing you.

“Cum all over this dick,” he said definitively before letting his head hang back. He knew the power he had. He knew you would listen to him. He was completely right. There was nothing you wanted more than to orgasm all on his cock.

You climbed on top of him, your hands resting on his shoulders. You could feel the presence of his cock beneath you. His shaded stare ate you up. He kept up a stoic face, almost like he was challenging you.

You watched his face as you lowered your body down on his cock, engulfing his tip only. 

“Good girl,” he whispered. Those words had you in a trance. His approval meant everything to you at the moment, but the stolen orgasm was still simmering in your belly. 

You licked your lips. You didn’t feel like a good girl right now. You wanted him to be a good boy.

You started to bounce up and down on his tip, ensuring to never let more than his tip in you. All the while you continued to study his face. He challenged you. He didn’t know this, but you don’t like to lose.

You didn’t let any of your control slip. Your face was rid of any excessive euphoria.   

He licked his lips, a small gesture of pleasure taking over him. You smiled tenderly at him as you slowed your hip movement. You glided on his tip, taking your precious time. You coated him generously with your wetness. This change of pace had his eyebrows furrowing together. 

“Fucking tease,” Peter said. His hands grasped onto your hips and with slight pressure, he attempted to bring you down on his cock.

A soft laugh came from your lips. You bowed your head down so that your lips were against his. You bit his bottom lip before dipping your tongue into his mouth.

“Be a good boy,” you warned him.

Once more, he laid his head back and watched you through hooded eyes. This time, instead of a challenge, his eyes said he was giving you all the power to use his cock.

“I’ll be good,” he licked his lips. 

You held his head between your breast. The soft aroma of his evergreen shampoo filled the atmosphere. Your nose snuggled his forest of hair. You let out a pleased moan shifting your hips slightly. “Good.”

Calculated and deliberate, you let your weight guide you down on him, his length filling you up more and more. The penetration felt so warm and comforting, sliding up and down on his cock felt just right. His face was smothered by your breast, his lips stuck to your flesh.

If you were more grounded, you would hear the pitter-patter of the rain on concrete and ceilings or notice how drastically dark it got in your apartment or how your soaking clothes were spread across the floor. But you hadn’t noticed any of this. You were too consumed with Peter’s moans, and the sound of Peter’s cock hammering into you, and the way you felt hot all over.

Before you knew it, words spewed out of your mouth. “Please cum in me, Peter.”

“You didn’t cum yet,” he said between kisses on your neck.

“I’m about to,” you mewled, your fingernails sinking into his skin

“You are?” he said with begging eyes.

“Please cum with me, Peter,” you managed to get out.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tightly. He started to thrust into you and use you like his very own sex toy. You couldn’t contain your voice. Your screams echoed in the apartment. With your fingers, you rubbed your clit gently as Peter penetrated you repeatedly.

“I’m going to cum on your cock!” you gasped.

Your fingers glided over your clit feverishly until you could feel the contractions in your stomach. You were moaning desperately at the long-awaited bliss.

You had came, but Peter was still hammering himself into you. Your pussy was throbbing with overstimulation. “Fuck, Peter. This is too much,” you cried out.

His pace persisted, and his grasp on you was resolute. 

“Peter!” Tears were coming to your eyes. Your nails were drawing blood and yet he continued. You were overwhelmed with pleasure. “Fuck!”

“I’m cumming!” He grunted, his thrusts turning slow and meaningful. You could feel his cum warm your belly up. His movement came to a stop and you laid your body onto him. Your body was slack. Tired. Your voice was hoarse. You could feel his cum overflow in you. Pitter patters of rain were gone.

“Good girl, Y/N,” he whispered.

> chapter two

a/n: hope everyone enjoyed it! i have loved fanfic since i was in middle school and that was a very very long time ago. :0 this is my first published fan fiction and i would appreciate all of the interaction i can get! 

xoxo scorpio mommy

[natti-ice]

Peter Parker p links!

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ �� ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

18+ minors do not interact or click the links! Each link contains porn. All links are from twitter. You must be logged into Twitter for the links to open!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

— Tobey!Peter

blindfolding you to keep his identity secret

Peter filling your pussy up after you’ve begged for it all day

cozy evening fucking

jerking off bigdick!Peter

riding his face

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

— Andrew!Peter

showing Peter your tongue trick

Peter loves his alt girlfriend

first time trying anal together

making sure he breeds your little pussy

him cumming all over your body

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

— Tom!Peter

playing with your sensitive pussy

movie night at Peter’s place

getting pounded in the bathroom

sucking him off while he games

Peter using your pussy to let out some pent up anger

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

@alanangels @laughingphantoms @lyd14-d33tz @imnotmanu @fandoms-are-my-hOme @avatarobsessedgirly @jul-es @swagskeletongiantdreamer @someblessedmonster @spideyswebz @tpwknjj @ansaturn @ariharlow17 @mikisworls @abzyisinsane @yoyo4544 @peterisinapickle @jypiecesgf @jade-is-jaded @lovelymax10 @cindrness @cece969 @xcallmewhatevrrx

[p3terparker]

𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 𝗺𝗲 - 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: peter wants to be babied.

𝘄/𝗰: 0.5k

𝗮/𝗻: hey guys!! it has been nearly a year since i’ve last written and i just wanna say i’m sorry for leaving for so long </3 please do bear with me, this may not be that good judging by how long it’s been since i’ve last written. i hope you enjoy though! also for everyone who has requested something, i haven’t forgotten about you! i’m getting to those soon :)

“please hold me” 

it’s nearly 1am and you’re sprawled out on your bed watching some random movie that was playing on tv. you’ve been up waiting for hours for peter to come by after patrol, and now he’s finally here sneaking in through your window.

“are you okay baby? you finished up pretty late” you question softly as you take off his mask and brush his hair out of his face.

“i’m fine. i just want you to hold me” he says tiredly and practically puts all of his body weight on you, causing you both to fall back onto your bed.

adjusting yourselves to get more comfortable, you’re now laid back on your pillow as you hug peters large frame while his face is nuzzled in your chest.

you two lay silently as you rub his back until you decide to break the silence.

“you know, you’re still in your suit. you’re getting my bed dirty.”

“you just want me to take it off so you can see me naked”

“you’re done” you say before attempting to push him off of you. peter quickly caught your hands before you could even try.

“how did you–”

“i’m spider-man, baby”

“clearly” you chuckle, referring to him still being in his suit.

“since you want to see me naked so bad, i’ll take it off” he groans as if it’s the hardest task in the world. “happy now?”

“very. now come lay back down”

you don’t have to tell him twice. he quickly gets back into the position you two were in before and enjoys the warmth and comfort you bring him.

“you’re so perfect petey, did you know that?”

“mmm” he groans into as he nuzzles his face further into your chest, enjoying the sudden compliment.

“i mean seriously. you’re so smart, so strong, so caring and so funny. you being handsome is just the cherry on top”

“stoppp” he whines. “i’m blushing.”

“okay fine, i’m done”

“nooo, i didn’t mean it! keep going please” he cries as he lifts up his head to look at you.

“you are truly such a big baby”

“i’m your big baby. now continue please, i love being praised by you.”

how could you deny him?

“i love how cute you are. you have the prettiest brown hair and eyes. your face is perfectly sculpted too. i don’t know how i got blessed with the most handsome boyfriend in the world.” 

“mmm” he groans again in complete ecstasy. hearing your compliments is like music to his ears.

“you’re so cute, i just want to squish your cheeks” you say before lifting his head up slightly and squishing his cheeks together.

you cannot believe he’s letting you baby him like this.

“aww petey, you’re so adorable” 

“thank you” he says with a pink tint on his cheeks as he rests his head on your chest again, suddenly feeling sleepy.

you two sat in silence for a few more minutes and he peacefully drifted to sleep.

you were definitely going to make fun of him for tonight in the morning.

[forever-rogue]

Heart Out

AN |  Once again, no one asked for this. Absolutely no one, but here we are - bone app the teeth. Basically - in which you meet Peter Parker, fall in love, accidentally fall pregnant, and have everything blow up in your face…or so it appears ❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Pregnant!Reader

Word Count | 6.3k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hello there,” you shrieked at the sound of the warm voice, clutching at your heart as you turned to find the source of your heart attack. Turned out that the man standing across the hall with a cheeky smile on his was about to give you another heart attack. Holy fuck - he was gorgeous. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, any coherent thought already out of your head, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me coming.”

“N-no,” you stammered out dumbly, unable to say anything else. Well then; he probably already thought you were a complete idiot, “I just, umm, didn’t h-hear you.”

“I’ll be louder next time,” he grinned, and his face took on a boyish quality. Funny; he could go from ridiculously handsome to outrageously cute in a matter of moments, “I just wanted to introduce myself - you just moved in right? I’m Peter. Parker. Peter Parker.”

“Peter,” you repeated softly and oh. He shouldn’t have you feeling this type of way already. You offered him your name, which he also repeated, testing it out to get a feel for it. You liked the way it sounded coming from him, “I moved in last week. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too, sweetheart,” and there he was, already hitting you with the nicknames. The audacity, “if you ever need anything at all, feel free to let me know. You’re welcome any time, day or night.”

“T-thanks,” your mind absolutely did not have to go and immediately think about going over to his place late at night when you needed something and then - no. Nope. You were definitely not going to let your thoughts go there, “that’s very kind of you.”

“You’re new to the building - it’s nice to know at least one person,” he shrugged lightly, “and maybe make a new friend. But I mean it, my door’s open - metaphorically - anytime.”

“Well, thank you again, Peter,” you opened your door and turned around to cast one last little wave goodbye, “see you around - have a good night.”

“You too, honey.”

Peter stood and watched you close your door, not moving until he heard you lock it. A soft little smile settled on his face as he went back into his own apartment. He didn’t mean to be so invasive, but curiosity - and his spidey senses - got the better of him and he listened to you shuffle around your apartment, muttering softly under your breath. Damn; he liked you already.

He’d known you when you moved but had been tempted to come over and help, but he also didn’t want to scare you off either. But he had also just offered himself up to you practically 24/7….maybe it was too late. Either way, he hoped he’d get to see you again. 

Meanwhile in your apartment, you were trying not to have a breakdown. How did you manage to fuck up a simple conversation? He probably thought you were an idiot; he probably didn’t even want you to come over. Peter seemed like he was the type of guy that was nice to everyone. Maybe you could just avoid him forever and pretend this never happened.

“Peter Parker,” you whispered to yourself, flopping on the couch and pulling out your phone. A little online…research wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? You cast a furtive look around, as though he was suddenly going to appear in your doorway, “let’s see what you’re about.”

Several background episodes of some old TV show, a helping of chocolate, and over an hour of online snooping, you’d found out a lot about Peter Parker. He was some sort of genius scientist by day, an amateur photographer on the side, and apparently a huge geek. Ugh. As if you needed more reasons to like him. How could he be hot, smart, and nerdy? Unfair. 

You closed out every app and tossed your phone to the side before sighing heavily. This might prove to be harder than you’d thought. Peter Parker was going to be a menace…you could just feel it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As fate would have it, your plan to avoid Peter Parker did not go well. It did not go well at all. 

From the first time you met him, you seemed to run into him all the time; leaving for or coming from work, in the laundry, even out in public. At first you had tried to play it off and keep interactions brief, but the more you kept seeing him the more you wondered if it was all a sense of timing…or was it fate? 

Either way, you stopped questioning; you allowed yourself to become friends with Peter. Friends that just so happened to be flirty with each other. Which was totally normal…who didn’t flirt with their friends every once in a while. Right? Right. What happened between the two of you would happen and you decided to let things flow naturally. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That all came to a head one chilly winter night.

It was later in the evening and you were winding down for the day when your heating went out. And as luck would have it, it was just cold enough that you needed the heater. You had no clue how to fix it and it would be too late to call the maintenance line and your mind only went out to one thing, or one person rather, Peter. 

You pulled on a hoodie and toed on your slippers before padding across the hall. There was a moment of hesitation as you raised your hand but couldn’t quite bring yourself to knock. Before you could make a decision one way or the other, the door opened and Peter stood on the other side, “hi.”

“H-hey,” you hadn’t even made a sound and yet he still knew you were at the door…weird. But that was the least of your concerns at the moment. You were desperately trying not to stare at him too closely; he was wearing a pair of sinful gray sweatpants and a well fitted t-shirt. The urge to throw yourself at him was ridiculous.

“Everything alright, sweetheart?”

Right. You were here for something entirely different. You mentally slapped yourself before nodding, “I’m sorry for coming so late, and I don’t even know if you’d be able to help but my heating went out and I have no clue what to do. Umm...you know what, it’s okay. I-I’ll figure it out.”

You’d turned to leave, regretting your decision to bother him, but before you could run away, you felt his long, slender fingers wrap around your wrist. You turned to him with wide eyes and he shook his head lightly, “you’re in luck. I happen to be very handy with things like this.”

“Is that because of all the science-y things you do?” you blurted it out before thinking about it as he raised his eyebrows. Right. You weren’t supposed to know about what he did for a living…it had never really come up. You also weren’t supposed to give the fact that you’d stalked him on the internet, “j-just because you seem like a STEM guy. ‘s all.”

Smooth.

“I do happen to be a STEM guy,” he grinned, “let me come over and take a look. I’m sure it’ll be an easy fix - the heating here is just a little finicky.”

“Thank you,” you slinked back to your apartment, handsome man in tow. You were glad that you’d just cleaned up and everything was tidy. Peter looked so good in your apartment and it made the whole domestic daydream hard to ignore, “I’m assuming the heaters are in the same spot. So…yeah. Can I help with anything - get you anything?”

“I’ve got it,” he promised, already walking into the living room where your heater was, “it shouldn’t take too long.”

You made a small sound of acknowledgement as you retreated into the kitchen, deciding to finish up the dishes you had started…while stealing glances at him. It was hard to ignore such an attractive piece of art in your own home. At one point he stretched and his shirt rode up, revealing the patch of hair under his belly button that disappeared under the waistband of his sweats. A wistful little sigh escaped your lips, which you quickly covered up with a cough. You swore you could see a little smirk on his face. 

To your delight and chagrin, Peter really was handy and had the heating kicked on and working well in a short period of time. He turned back to you with a triumphant smile and jazz hands, “ta-da! All working again…and probably better than before. Simple circuit issue.”

“I…wow, thank you so much,” you smiled softly, “that’s really kind of you. How can I repay you? Whatever you want, name it and it’s yours.”

Peter’s smile grew bigger and he seriously wanted to answer with a simple you. But instead he shook his head and brushed off your concern, “don’t mention - really, it was nothing. Plus, it gives me a chance to see you again. It’s been a bit...almost like you were avoiding me. Did I do something to scare you off?”

He’d come over now and was standing across from you, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall. Peter could read you like a book already and it was just all too easy for him. You bit the inside of your cheek and just shook your head, “n-no, Peter. Of course not, I’ve just been…busy. And didn’t feel the need to bother you.”

“You didn’t feel the need or didn’t want to?” he asked softly, his voice so warm and low that felt like he should be whispering those words directly in your ear. You swallowed thickly, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, “tell me, sweetheart.”

“Didn’t want to,” you confessed shyly, “didn’t want you to get tired or annoyed with me.”

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of you,” how you’d come to be right in front of him was a mystery but you found yourself looking up into his pretty brown eyes. He reached up and touched your face, brushing his knuckles across your cheek before trailing his fingers along your jaw and down your neck, “sweet, sweet girl.”

“Peter,” he was still new to you, still so much to discover and learn but you already felt like you’d known him for a lifetime. It was such a strange feeling, such a magnetic pull and you didn’t even want to bother fighting it.

“Hmm?” his face was close to yours, and you could feel the warmth radiating off him. He smelled so deliciously warm and soft that you wanted to wrap yourself in his clothes and wanted him all over you, “tell me what you need, honey.”

“Kiss me?” you asked sweetly, “please?”

He answered your simple request by pressing his lips to yours in what started off as a saccharine, soft little thing. With even the slightest taste of him, you were already addicted to him. A little gasp escaped your lips as you looked back at him and found him watching with equal curiosity and tenderness. 

And then it happened so fast - he was all over you and you jumped into his arms, letting him kiss you dizzy and leave a lavender haze across your skin. His touch was electric and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so alive. He picked you and carried you to your bedroom so effortlessly, and you felt so soft and delicate in his arms. Your lips barely broke contact as he gently laid you on the bed, looking down at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. 

He gently brushed your hair out of your face, resting his hand on your cheek and leaned into his touch, “we don’t have to-”

“I want this,” you promised softly, “I want you, Peter.”

That was all he needed before caging you in between his arms, leaning down to kiss you more. You could easily - and did - spend hours under him, letting him kiss you and touch every which way It felt like a dream, a sweet fantasy that your lust addled brain had conjured up, but the soft moan and whimpers you were drawing from him reminded you that this was all very real. 

“Peter,” his name had never sounded as sweet as it did when it fell reverently from your lips, “please.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he promised, nosing along your jaw before placing a kiss to your lips, “I’ve got you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’d believed him. You’d believed every sweet word whispered in your ear, every little moan and whimper exchanged that he’d meant them all.

But when you woke up the next morning, golden sunshine and soft bird chirps streaming into your bedroom, you rolled over and fully expected to find his warm body next to yours. But instead you found a chilly emptiness. Strange. You hadn’t even heard him get up, let alone leave you. A pang settled in your stomach as you slid out of bed, feeling the dull ache between your legs as you slid on your shirt from last night.

“Peter?” you padded your way into the hall and kitchen looking for any signs of life; unfortunately you found nothing. A pout worked its way onto your face as you looked around, and in a much smaller voice you spoke into the nothingness, “Peter?”

But he was long gone and you already knew that. There was no note, no anything. You scrubbed a hand over your tired face before sighing to yourself. You should have known - of course it was too good to be true. Peter Parker wasn’t into you and he hadn’t felt any sort of connection. He’d just wanted to have sex…and you’d given right in. 

“Dumb, pathetic girl,” you chided yourself before moving to the bathroom to take a long, hot shower. You wanted to scrub off every last bit of Peter from your body and home. You decided to let yourself cry and wallow in self-pity while showering; after that it was back to business as usual. Maybe you’d get an answer from Peter later. Maybe you’d find out that this was all some sort of weird misunderstanding. You still had hope that Peter would turn out to be everything you had dreamed he would be.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

But…you never got the chance to ask what happened or for him to give you a proper explanation. By mid-afternoon of the day he’d just left, you went over to his apartment and knocked on his door; there was no answer. You figured that he might not have been home, which was fair enough. You decided to just wait for him - he had to come home at some point. 

It just wasn’t that day. You didn’t hear him come or go, which just left you more curious than ever.

The day after brought about a new work week, and you knew, from your previous comings and goings that he worked a similar schedule to yours. And yet you still didn’t see him that week. Now you were just getting worried about him. In the few months you’d lived in the building, you’d seen him constantly; it wasn’t like him to just up and disappear. If nothing you figured he might have told you that he was leaving or going to be gone. 

It wasn’t until about three weeks later that you’d caught sight of him again. You experienced an odd combination of relief and annoyance when you caught him getting back into his apartment as you came home from dinner with some friends.

“Peter?” your soft voice caught him off guard and he tensed up immediately. He was so lost in his own thoughts that even his heightened senses didn’t detect you. He exhaled shakily as he turned around to face you. You looked so torn at seeing him again, “you’re here. You’re okay…”

“Yeah,” he nodded and cleared his throat. He seemed so different from the man you’d seen last time. He looked more tired too, his hair shaggier and stubble littered his face, “listen-”

“Where did you go?” he could hear the hurt in your voice and it broke his heart, “t-that morning…you were just gone. And then you were gone for weeks. I got so worried…”

He knew this was coming; that’s why he’d spent the last couple of weeks actively avoiding you. Peter hadn’t been gone - he’d just relied on Spider-Man prowess to be able to get into his apartment unseen. He’d spent more nights than he cared to admit sitting near his door and tuning in to you. He just…couldn’t bring himself to face you.

“I’m fine,” but he most definitely wasn’t, “I’m sorry about that night, okay? It shouldn’t have happened, but I’m fine. You’re fine. We can put it behind us and move on…”

“I…what do you mean?” your heart broke at his words and you wished the ground would open up and swallow you, “Peter - can we just talk about this?”

“I’m busy, I’m sorry,” he opened his door and stepped inside his apartment as you stared at him with teary eyes, “I’m sorry.”

He closed the door and locked it before you could say anything else. You stared at the door, processing what had just happened while tears pearled up and ran down your cheeks. How could he just play you off like that? Basically acting like nothing happened. This didn’t feel like Peter - not the Peter you’d come to know and, if you were being honest with yourself, love.

Peter leaned against the door sighing deeply to himself as he listened to your sniffles as you walked into your own apartment. He never wanted to hear you cry again, he especially never wanted to be the cause of your tears again. 

“Fuck,” he sighed to himself, “fuck.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You thought that things couldn’t get worse after Peter all but dumped you, as a friend and potential lover, but once again you had been wrong. 

Very wrong.

I’ve missed two periods wrong. You thought maybe the test was wrong, that the white plastic stick proclaiming pregnant was giving you a false positive. But the six other tests that said the same thing probably weren’t all wrong. 

“Fuck,” you tossed the test angrily into your trash can before doing the same thing with the rest of the tests. You couldn’t stand looking at them any longer, have them taunting you mercilessly, “fuck me.”

While it was real, it didn’t feel real real until you left the doctor’s office the following week. They had simply confirmed what you already knew deep down. You were eight weeks pregnant with Peter Parker’s baby. Talk about life throwing you for a loop. But, like without most things in life, except for what happened with Peter, you decided to be rational and figure it all out. 

You needed a plan - as long as you had a plan things would work out. 

You were at a good place in life and with your career that financially you’d be able to afford a baby. You had a spare room in your apartment that served as a makeshift office that could be a nursery. You had a few close friends and family members that would be able to support you throughout your pregnancy. Realistically, the biggest decision you had to make was whether or not you wanted to keep the baby. 

Would you be able to stand living across the hall from Peter while you had his kid? Would he even ask questions and put two and two together? Maybe you could look for a different apartment soon. There was much to think about and much to do, but as long as you made a plan and stuck to it, things would work out.

They had to work out…fuck, you hoped things worked out. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Three months later found you doing better than you’d thought. You’d decided to keep the baby but were still on the fence about moving. The more time that passed, the more you thought moving was the right idea. 

You’d tried to tell Peter as soon as you got confirmation of your pregnancy from the doctor. He might have hated you, but he still deserved to know. You wanted him to have the opportunity to choose whether or not he wanted to be in the kid’s life. Even if you didn’t get along, he deserved the choice. Part of you still wondered what had caused the sudden shift in his attitude towards you, but never found out. He avoided you like the plague and if he did see you for some reason he would give you a small hello or pretend that he didn’t see you. 

After all this time it still stung. And it was the only reason that he still didn’t know you were pregnant. The thing was, you wouldn’t be able to hide it much longer - but who knew if he would even notice. It almost felt like a weird, cruel joke at this point.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a random Wednesday afternoon that you happened to have off, which led you to take advantage of the nearly empty laundry room. You were just finishing up your last load, putting it all in your basket when you heard someone walk in. The mountain of laundry was large and you didn’t bother looking to see who it was, “I’ll be out in just a second - sorry for hogging all the room!”

When you finally fished the last things out of the dryer, you turned around and found yourself face to face with none other than, “Peter.”

He looked like he’d just seen a ghost as he stared at you, soft honey brown eyes searching yours. Your heart raced, and you were surprised it didn’t burst through your ribcage. A slight look of confusion crossed his features and you caught the way his eyes looked over you before flicking down to your belly. You swallowed thickly, suddenly glad that you’d worn a pretty baggy old t-shirt; it hid the fact that you were definitely starting to show.

“Hey,” he choked out, raising his hand in a weak little wave. It was more than you’d gotten from him in some time, “h-how’re you?”

“I’m okay,” it wasn’t a total lie but it wasn’t the full truth either, “how are you?”

“Okay,” he admitted, and you wondered if it was a lie. He held up his hand and flailed it around, as if he was trying to magically conjure up the words he was looking for, “d-do you…I, umm…can we talk?”

“Not right now,” you felt your eyes welling up with tears as you  grabbed your basket and held it as best as you could in order to avoid resting it against your belly. How could he just so casually want to talk months later? He had all this time and now he was going to ask, “I’ve gotta go. I-I’ll see you around, Peter.”

You pushed past him, arm brushing against his and sending electric shivers shooting down your spine as he watched you go. He stared at you, finding himself unable to move or say anything else. He brought his hands to his face and groaned loudly; once again he’d managed to mess this up. But something had been…different about you today. Peter couldn’t quite place it yet, but there was something going on. And he was determined to find out - and beg for forgiveness if he had to. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

One of the many things that had come along with pregnancy were the lovely bouts of insomnia that popped every once in a while. Nothing you did - or didn’t - do seemed to help and it left you more restless than anything else. Some evenings you would bake, some nights you read, some nights you’d watch TV. But on this particular evening, you found yourself pacing around endlessly; instead of just walking around your apartment, you decided to go for a walk around the neighborhood. It seemed like a big of a crazy idea but the neighborhood and most of New York City was fairly safe and quiet these days, probably thanks to the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. 

You pulled on a pair of sweats and a thin zip up and headed outside, one earbud in with your true crime podcast of the moment in your ear. And for a while, nothing seemed out of place, and your suspicions weren’t raised.

Not until a red and blue blur passed in your peripheral and caused you to stop in your tracks. Out of nowhere Spider-Man appeared right in front of you, causing your eyes to widen. You pulled the earbud out and stuffed it into your pocket as you studied the man in front of you, “Spider-Man?”

“Last time I checked,” he responded cheekily, holding his arms out and pretending to study them with interest, “what are you doing out so late? It’s dangerous!”

“Umm,” the fact that he was talking to you like he knew you personally threw you off, “I was just going for a quick walk? I-is that not allowed anymore?”

“This late?!”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged lightly, unsure of why this seemed so important to him. Your hand had instinctively gone to your bump, and you stroked it gently, “and my back was hurting so I thought a walk would help?”

He tracked your movement and you were almost sure you heard him inhale sharply, “y-you’re pregnant?”

“Yeah,” you whispered with a small, fond smile, “this kid is very active and likes to be up at all times of the day and night. Makes it hard to keep a normal sleep schedule at times…I mean none of this is normal…but, you know what, I’m gonna shut up now because you definitely don’t need to hear about all of this.”

“What a-are you having?” his voice grew soft and you found yourself drawn into him. He was Spider-Man after all, he saved kids all the time, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he cared.

“A girl…in about four months,” you told him excitedly, eyes lighting up with happiness, the white eyes of the suit narrowed as he studied you, a gentle silence falling over the two of you. You cleared your throat when he didn’t say anything, “I, ugh, I should get going. Maybe I will try and see if she’ll let me get some rest. She’s calmed down a little bit…since you showed. You must hold some kind of magic over her, she probably likes your voice.”

He stood there frozen, so you offered him a small wave before walking past him in order to loop around the block back to your building. It was quiet at first and you thought you were alone when you heard rapid footsteps coming after you, “wait! Please - wait.”

“Huh?” Spider-Man was there again and this time he took your hand and pulled you into a small walkway between buildings. He was breathing nervously, “are you okay? Do you need…something?”

He paused for a moment before raising a shaking hand to the back of his neck. You watched as he pulled the mask off slowly, revealing himself to you which caused you to gasp loudly as you stared at the man in front of you, “Peter?”

“H-hi,” he said meekly as you a hundred different emotions seemed to flash across your face, “I fucked up.”

“What is going on?” there were those overwhelming emotions again, bringing up those big, fat crocodile tears that rolled down your cheeks, “you’re Spider-Man? I…all this time? Why…I don’t understand.”

“She’s mine, isn’t she?” he asked, although both of you were well aware of the answer, “the other day, in the laundry room, I-I heard it - the two heartbeats but only saw you. It makes sense now…”

“Y-you left me,” was all you managed to get out before you were sniffling heavily and wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater, “I-I tried to tell you. Y-you just left and never told me why.”

“Sweetheart-”

“You broke my heart Peter,” you flinched out of his touch when he tried to reach for your hand; he hated the fact that he made you feel like that, “and you never even told me why.”

“Please, let me explain, I can-”

“No,” you shook your head fervently, as you took a step back, “no. I tried to talk to you so many times, and you just ignored me. I tried to tell you that I was pregnant but you just…shut me out.  It’s too late for that, Peter.”

“Don’t walk away,” he begged, his own eyes glistening with tears, “please.”

“Give me one good reason why,” you pushed back.

“I’m in love with you.”

“Don’t,” you held up your hand, shaking your head. Funny - you’d been wanting to hear those words for so long and now you heard them they felt wrong. The worst part of it all was that you needed him to be serious, “you don’t get to leave me for months and avoid me and just do this. That’s not fair, Peter.”

“I never meant to,” he insisted, groaning at himself, “I-I can explain, please-”

“No, Peter,” you took a step back, your own heart breaking all over again, “I’m not going to keep your daughter from you - if you want to be a part of her life. That wouldn’t be fair of me and I want her to have the opportunity to know her father and you to know your daughter. But us…we…I don’t know, Peter. I think it’s too late for that.”

“I understand why you hate me,” he insisted, trying his best to get to you to stay, “give me ten minutes, that’s all I’m asking for, to explain everything.”

You worried your bottom between your teeth, wanting to walk away but finding it impossible. After a few beats of tense silence you have him a singular nod, “ten minutes. That’s it.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The fact that you found yourself in Peter’s apartment again, after all these months, was oddly comforting. Everything felt and looked the same, which for some reason provided a weird sense of familiarity. You sat on the couch, grabbed the blanket off the back without thinking about it and curled up under it; the fact that you still did put a small smile on Peter's face.

“Go on then,” you raised an eyebrow, “talk.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” he sighed lightly, “it’ll be a mess but I want to get it all out there. I-I’m Spider-Man…obviously. I have been for a long time, and it’s not something people know for obvious reasons. There’s less than a handful of people that know who I am.”

“Oh,” you met his eyes and frowned slightly. Of course your first thoughts were worry about him getting hurt. But then it suddenly clicked, “all those times you got hurt…the bruises and scratches and - wow. It makes sense now.”

“Listen, sweetheart,” he rubbed a hand over his tired face, “the woman I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with…she knew. She found out, and she…she’s dead. She’s been for a long time now. I couldn’t save her - the reason she died was because of me. I got mad, angry…bitter and rageful. For so long, I was just so sad and angry all the time. It took years before I finally got it into my head that she - Gwen - wouldn’t want me to be like that. She would want me to be happy and move on with my life. So I did; I’ll never forget her or stop loving her.”

“Peter,” your eyes were welling up with tears as you watched him pace around the living room. You could tell that this was not easy for him, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I also made myself a promise that I would never get someone involved again. No one was going to know that I was Spider-Man,” he gave you a soft, sad smile, “if no one got close to me, they couldn’t get hurt, right? That was my logic - the less people knew about me, the fewer people I knew, the better. The last thing…the last thing I expected to do was to fall in love.”

The two of you looked at each other, both of you on the verge of having tears spill your cheeks. You opened and closed your mouth a few times as he crouched down in front of you. He reached up and gently touched your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn’t even realized fell. You leaned into his touch as you looked at him with the softest eyes, “I never expected to feel anything close to that. But then I met you. And I just knew you were going to be trouble from the first day I met you.”

“Good trouble?” you asked softly and he nodded.

“The best trouble,” he agreed, “and you made it so easy, and I stopped worrying about the consequences. It didn’t matter anymore…and then that night, when we had sex, I just…I realized that I did - do - love you. And I panicked, I panicked and ran away like a coward.”

“You did,” you agreed softly, “you didn’t even leave a note. I thought…I thought you regretted it and that you thought it was a mistake.”

“I can understand why you thought that,” he traced his fingers along your jaw, studying your features and refamiliarizing himself with them, “I didn’t think that at all. I just…all I could think about was you getting hurt. That someone would find out about you and they’d hurt you. And, in my very flawed logic, I thought that pushing you away was the best thing. If you hated me, you wouldn’t want to be around me, and then you’d be safe. That’s what I thought anyway.”

“I could never hate you,” you promised, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and gently taking his hand into yours, “never. Peter, you’re an idiot and a fool, but I can’t even be mad because your heart was in the right place. You didn’t go about it correctly but I get it.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, “that’s all I can say and hope that you can forgive me. I’m sorry that I’ve been such a dick that you’ve had to go through this on your own.”

“I know,” you swallowed thickly, “I tried to tell you, but…yeah. Listen, I’m going to keep her and I don’t want you to feel forced into being a part of her life. But if you want to be, I would never say no. Obviously, you know, I didn’t intend on having sex once and forgetting to use birth control and getting pregnant. It’s a mess really…but I couldn’t give her up.”

“I know I’ve been a dick and you don’t have to say yes, but I’d like to be involved,” his eyes grew nervous, “you’ve still got a while of being pregnant and I’d like to help however I can. It takes two to tango after all.”

“I’d like that,” you agreed and he felt his heart flutter happily, “Peter…I’m not saying things will just go back to how they were right away, but…I love you.”

“You…what?!”

“I love you,” you repeated with a small laugh and oh. He’d missed that beautiful sound so terribly much, “I have for a long time too. And if you…if you want to, I-I’m willing to work on things and try again?”

“Really?” 

“Really,” you grinned, “you know that old saying, don’t give up on something that could be great just because it’s not easy or whatever? I think that applies here. So, if you’re in, I’m in. But, Peter, my love, please just talk to me, okay? Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out, but we can’t do that if you shut me out.”

“I won’t,” he promised, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, “I swear it. I want this -  you.”

“Good,” you leaned in and pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek, “I want you too, Spidey. We’ll figure it out.”

“We will,” he agreed softly, “do you…have any pictures of her o-or anything?”

“Of course,” you took his hand and placed it gently on the swell of your belly. You watched as his entire body relaxed and his face softened, “I’ve got plenty of sonogram pictures of the blob. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment in a few days, would you like to come with me?”

“Yeah,” he leaned in, hesitantly for a moment, and you repeated the action, pressing your forehead against his, “I’d love to.”

“Peter? Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Will you kiss me?” he laughed lightly as you beamed at him, “pretty please?”

“Yes,” he promised, “any time, sweetheart.”

[citrusy-lemons]

pancake-cakes

tasm!peter x reader

summary: late night cravings bring out some deeper feelings.

author's note: HOLY SHIT, count on me to go MIA for a month after posting. honestly tho i'm so sorry, i've got school and extracurriculars and projects and shit and i haven't really gotten time to write and my schedule is still super hectic, hopefully i'll be able to get other stuff out soon but no promises :/

let me know what you think? constructive criticism is welcome and please be nice :)

see, the middle of the night wasn't meant for this. it's to sleep and dream and pee.

not for baking a cake without having most ingredients of the cake. but you'd gotten a sudden craving and it was a weekend tomorrow, so bad decisions were inevitable.

did you have a million assignments to do? maybe. but peter also had a million assignments to do and he was still here, so technically, he's also making bad decisions. he was aware of that fact.

mind you he did try to convince you to go back to sleep at first but you wore him down. he didn't put up a big fight, he never did, against you.

he's convinced himself that he was only there to watch over you and make sure you didn't slice a finger or spill the flour, not to help you out with your late night shenanigans. but he was cutting up the strawberries so, really, he didn't have a strong resolve.

"you know, i think that when the box says 'pancake mix' you're supposed to make pancakes," he said, turning to you, who was reading the back of said box.

were you trying to bake a cake in the middle of the night with pancake batter cuz you didn't have the stuff for the cake and didn't want to go to the grocery store to get it? kinda. would peter have gone and got the stuff himself if you'd asked? yes.

"i didn't listen to you the last 17 times, i'm not gonna listen to you now, and besides," you said, pouring the mix into a bowl, "a pancake is just a cake but made on a pan instead of an oven. we're just changing the recipe a bit," you shrugged, like it was obvious and he was the stupid one.

"there are so many things wrong with that sentence, i dont even know where to begin,"

"here's a hint, don't."

you were being mean, you knew that. you didn't mean it. peter knew that. and you knew that peter knew that but you would apologize later. he knew that. he sighed dramatically.

"you wound me,"

you rolled your eyes at that. pretending to be annoyed at him was easy. wiping the smile away from your face when you were around him wasn't.

"if i had a dollar for every time you're wounded, i'd be filthy rich."

he glanced up at you. he knew that that wasn't completely a joke, it had a bittersweet tone to it. was that the reason why you were up at this ungodly hour? peter knew that you'd been stressed lately, he didn't know he had a hand in that.

"hey, you wanna tell me what's up?"

you didn't meet his eye, but you did stop fiddling with the bowl. almost immediately, you grabbed the knife out of his hand, mumbling, "you're cutting them all wrong,"

you both knew that wasn't true. one of the perks of having grown up with may was that peter was a fantastic cook. he'd been doing this sort of stuff forever. you needed to get better at excuses.

he gently laid his hand over yours to stop you and said your name softly, pleadingly. a long pause. you complied.

"it's just that," you started with a sigh, and dropped the knife, "you're my best friend peter, and i know that being spiderman means a lot to you," hesitation creeps up as you get to the actual issue. peter senses a 'but' coming. you look at him.

"but you come home every night with bruises everywhere, in pain, and i know you say that they'll go away in the morning and they do but," you're rambling now, he doesn't stop you.

"you have to see it from my perspective, i-" another sigh, you look away, "i get scared, peter."

oh. you were worried for him. he wonders how he didn't realise that before. that time he came home with a stab wound and you looked like you were going to cry he thought you were nauseous at the sight of blood. peter was an idiot.

"i know i shouldn't but i dont like the thought of you getting beat up every night." you were talking with your hands now, "imagine how you would feel if i came home with bruises all over my body and told you not to worry and that i'll be fine in a couple hours." you looked at him again. there was a sort of pain in your eyes. peter wishes it weren't there.

"it doesn't feel good peter. and you assume that i'm supposed to be okay with it?" you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, turning back to the strawberries. your hands were shaking.

peter thought about it. about what you'd said. you were scared for him and he understood that. it couldn't have been easy to be with someone like him. but he couldn't very well abandon spiderman. it was a part of him now. he knew that you knew that, but at the same time, he understood your point.

he thought about how he'd feel if the roles were reversed. if you came home with the type of wounds he did every night, he would be terrified. he couldn't blame you, of course he couldn't.

but he was spiderman, he had a responsibility, an unspoken vow to this city. he had opportunities and powers that no one else did, and he wanted to do good with it.

he hadn't asked for it, but he still had it. if he gave up being spiderman, he didn't think his conscience would let him live with it.

"i'm not asking you not to be spiderman," you spoke, finding your voice, "of course i won't do that. i'm just saying..." you trailed off, unsure of what you wanted and whether you were allowed to have it.

peter took both your hands into his, silently begging you to look at him. you did.

"i know what you're saying, and i understand. i don't blame you, i get where you're coming from and i promise, i'll be fine," he said, softly. he knew you were anxious about his safety.

"i can't give up being spiderman, and i know that's not what you're saying, but you have to understand, i can't not do it, it's a part of me, and i swear i will be more careful," his brown eyes bore into yours, willing you to understand. you blinked and unconsciously looked to the floor.

"but what if, being careful isn't enough one day? what if it isn't just some robbers or burglars but some other things? what if it's one of those aliens or mutants or something and you can't defend yourself? what am i supposed to do then, pete?"

you closed your eyes again, trying to stop the tears. peter's heart was tearing itself knowing that he was the reason for them. how could he tell you that him being the cause for your tears hurt more than any knife in the world?

"hey, look at me," he said, searching for your eyes. you shook your head but looked up at him anyway, the tears in your lashes resolutely not giving in to gravity.

"nothing is going to happen to me. i've handled stuff like that, you know. i know you're worried and upset but i promise, nothing will happen. you need to trust me, okay? we're going to be fine. please, I need you to trust me."

he said your name like it's the last time he'll ever get to, not in a way a friend is supposed to.

you sniffed, "i trust you, i do. it's this city that i don't trust," you steeled yourself, "but if you're sure, and you believe we'll be fine, then i do too."

he cracked a smile then, and pulled you in for a hug. a tight one. neither of you let go for quite a few minutes. you relished in it.

"god, okay i know i'm being silly, i'm sorry," you said after you'd pulled away, rubbing at your eyes.

"you're not being silly, don't be sorry. it's completely okay and valid. don't ridicule your thoughts, you're allowed to feel," peter said, in a scold-ish manner that he'd no doubt learnt from may.

"and please step away from the strawberries, and go back to butchering your so-called 'cake'," he said with a teasing smile, bumping his hips into yours to move you back to the bowl of pancake mix.

you scoffed incredulously, back into your playful demeanor, "excuse you, i would have perfected this pancake-cake if i weren't feeling sleepy right now, so, unfortunately for you, you won't get to taste this deliciousness, whenever i do get to make it,"

"oh, what a tragedy, i won't get to torture my tastebuds with whatever concoction you manage to brew up,"

you shoved at him, not that he moved an inch, and grabbed the plate of cut strawberries.

"just for that, i'm gonna eat these strawberries in bed using your pillow as a table, and you know i can be a very messy eater," you laughed like an evil sorcerer and ran towards the bedroom.

peter, horrified at the thought of sleeping on a sticky pillow, ran after you, forgetting that he had sticky hands himself. (pun intended, i'm sorry i couldn't not do it)

"come back here you!"

the pancake mix in the bowl, the half pack of strawberries waiting to be cut, and the anxiety were all left forgotten back in the kitchen.

[withahappyrefrain]

Work From Home

Summary: Working from home benefits both you and Peter.

Warning: cockwarming, Daddy kink, orgasm control, oral, switch!Peter, switch!reader, language, unprotected sex, p in v, afab reader, choking, I just wrote almost 5K of smut don't look at me

This is dedicated to the Spidey Simps <3

 When it was announced that the Daily Bugle was transitioning to working remotely, you didn’t think much. 

Peter was a photographer, which meant he still had to leave the apartment for events. 

But it did mean that when it was time to edit his photos, he could do so from the comfort of your shared home. 

Truth was, you weren't able to notice any differences until the school year ended. 

And that's when some things began to change. 

First, was the facial hair. Peter usually didn’t keep it past a light stubble, but with the new found freedom of working from home, he wanted to try it out.  You noticed it one day when Peter came up from behind you to wrap an arm around your waist and give you a kiss on the cheek before going into his makeshift office. 

The hair on his cheek brushed against your skin, providing a soft friction that sent electric sparks throughout your body. Your mind couldn’t help but wander about how it would feel against other parts of your body, the more sensitive parts of your body. 

“You good sunshine?” He murmured into your neck, squeezing one of your hips. Curse that radioactive spider bite that made him hyper aware of every little change in your body, like your thighs clenching. 

“Like the facial hair,” You mumbled, looking down to see how his large hand covered not only your hip, but his fingers spread down to your upper thigh, “That’s all.” 

“Yeah?” His lips brushed against your jawline, the hair above his upper lip tickling your skin. 

You nodded your head. Trying to hide how flustered you were was pointless. Even if you didn’t show it on your face, he could feel the heat radiating off your body, hear your heartbeat racing, and the pitch of your breathing increase. 

“Maybe we should see how much you really like it,” He said before spinning you around. You couldn’t even get a word out, as Peter had already lifted you up onto the kitchen counter. His large fingers hooked around the waistband of your shorts to easily pull the fabric down your legs. 

“Y-You have work in t-ten minutes,” You gasped at the sensation of his beard brushing against your bare thighs. 

Peter simply shrugged, a devilish smirk adorning his ridiculously handsome face as he looked up between your thighs. 

"You know I can work quickly." 

The noise that left your throat was nothing short of animalistic. You normally would attempt to contain yourself when Peter's mouth moved against your cunt. 

But that was impossible with how the hair above his lips brushed against your clit. 

The noise complaint was well worth it.  

—------------------- 

The facial hair was the first change. After that morning in the kitchen, his beard remained. Not that you were complaining. 

Then came the second change. 

"Betty says I look like I should be taking a group of kids to their morning soccer practice," Peter said before taking a bite out of his eggs. 

You looked up, taking him in. The beard did make him look older, combined with the eye crinkles that had become more pronounced over the years and the flecks of gray that were scattered throughout his beard and now hair. 

"You do look like a Dad," You commented, smiling as you took a bite out of your bagel. 

"Guess you should call me Daddy now," He muttered. 

"Only if you want me to." There was a slight smirk on your face, a touch of mischievousness to your tone. All in good fun. 

But then Peter's eyes widened and he dropped his fork upon hearing your statement. 

Oh?

The lack of response and eye contact caused you to raise an eyebrow, "Do you want me to?" 

The tips of his ears were turning red, "I mean it's um, it's a two way street. So d-do you want to?" 

"I wouldn't have offered it if I didn't." Even though his beard covered much of the lower half of his face, it was still clear that Peter's face was beet red. 

"I-I mean, I guess…guess it's something we could try," He muttered to his eggs. He shifted his body in the chair, as if he was trying to hide something. 

"Yeah?" You asked, voice raspy and low. Peter didn't have to look up to know you had that infamous smirk on his face. The one that caused your eyes to narrow, looking at him through your long lashes. The one that made his knees buckle, ready to fall.  Ready to worship you. 

The one that made the fabric around his crotch tighten. 

His honey glazed eyes continued to avoid yours as you waltz over to his chair. You straddle his thighs with yours, your arms wrapped around his neck. 

A soft yet strangled whine escaped his lips when you ground your hips against Peter's. It was cruel of you to chuckle, but you couldn't help it. Peter being flustered wasn't a new concept; he had quite a difficult time coherently asking you out when you two first met.

But that was romance and intimacy. When it came to the more physical aspect, he wasn't shy. It was well known how much he craved you, your body. 

So when he was flustered in these moments, you relished in it. 

Peter's neck was warm as you pressed your lips against it, placing kisses and light nips all the way up to his ear. 

"You want me to call you Daddy? Hmm? Want me to call you that while I come around your cock?" 

Peter's long fingers stilled for a moment before gripping the fabric of your large Tshirt. 

"Only one way to find out."

You often forgot how quickly Peter moved. In mere seconds, he had picked you up and thrown you over his shoulder. A loud smack across your ass silenced your surprised shrieks. 

—--------------------------------- 

The bedroom nickname stayed, along with the facial hair. 

The other change was just how nice it was to have Peter home with you. Even just a quick peck on the lips as you two passed each other in the hallway brightened your mood. 

You had finished work early one afternoon and your mind couldn't help but wonder as to what Peter was doing. 

Now you didn't have to guess. 

Now you could just walk over to the spare bedroom, which had been turned into his makeshift office. 

Fuck. 

You and Peter had been together for years. On your left hand was his Aunt's engagement ring. You saw the man every day. But sometimes, randomly, it would just hit you like a train. 

Fuck, was he attractive. 

His brown hair was slightly disheveled, one lock in the front curled over and moving slightly when he moved his head. 

The light seeping in through the window illuminated the few gray hairs in his beard. You had to beg him to not pluck them out, and were glad your pleads worked. The top few buttons of his white shirt were undone, revealing a glimpse of his toned chest. 

A large hand of his came up to his chin to scratch the skin and your mind was flooded with thoughts of this morning, when he made you come twice on his fingers before fucking you with his-

“It’s rude to stare, sunshine,” His honey glazed eyes never left the computer screen. 

“I wasn’t-”

“I can also smell you.” Somehow, that specific trait he gained from that spider bite always evaded your mind. 

He finally looked up at you, a smirk forming on his handsome face, “Ya done with work for today?”

“Yeah,” your voice was breathless, “W-what about you?”

He shrugged, as if he didn’t just mention that he knew how aroused you were, “Just gotta edit this last set of photos and then I’ll be done. Wanna keep me company, bug?”

You nodded, walking over to his chair. Carefully, you swung a leg over one of his. Peter grabbed the back of your thighs, pulling you into his lap. As your arms wrapped around him, you placed your head in the crook of his neck. 

“You smell nice,” He murmured, his large hands moving to your ass, grasping and kneading your flesh through the thin fabric of your shorts. 

“So do you,” a gasp escaped your lips when he moved you back and forth over his crotch. Through his sweatpants, you could feel his erection growing. 

“Yeah?” Peter chuckled before pressing his lips against your neck, finding your pulse point with precision, “Ya wanna keep me warm sunshine?”

A whimper was your response as you nodded your head eagerly. 

“C’mon then,” His voice was low, seductively sweet. The smirk remained on his face as you stood up, pulling down your shorts and underwear. Peter quickly adjusted himself, pulling down his sweatpants and boxers just enough to free his hardened cock. 

“C’mere sunshine, let’s get ya ready,” His hands grasped the soft flesh of your thighs, pulling you back into his lap. A moan fell from your lips upon feeling his cock slide through your folds. 

“Ready to keep me warm until I’m done with work?” You nodded eagerly, any cares about appearing desperate now gone. 

One of his hands reached up to the back of your neck, pulling you down for a kiss while the other hand gripped one of your hips, aligning his cock to your entrance. 

The initial stretch was a delicious pain, one that you now craved. Slowly, you guided yourself down on his cock until all of him was inside you. 

“F-feels s’good,” You muttered against his lips. You began to raise your hips upwards, when both his hands pulled you down, keeping you in place.

“Not a chance princess. You’re keeping daddy’s cock warm until he’s done with work. Understand?” 

You nodded, knowing it was either this or be empty. 

“Good girl,” He whispered, the praise making your thighs clench. 

Your head settled into the crook of his neck once more, a hand playing with some strands of his hair. You tried to focus on finding any gray hairs, on counting the different colors in his beard- dark brown, light brown, red- on anything to distract you from the rising temptation of moving your hips. 

Every once in a while, Peter would shift in his chair, leaning in to focus on a detail of the photo, causing his cock to shift ever so slightly against your walls. The first time it happened, you tried moving your own hips, wanting to test the waters. 

A light but firm smack to your thigh told you that wasn’t allowed. 

So instead, you bit your bottom lip, trying to hold back a whimper, trying to keep your hips still, despite the fact that your mind was telling you to move. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, “You’re doing so good for daddy.” 

The praise made your head feel fuzzy, combined with how full you felt, his cock nestled inside you. Every movement, every twitch was heightened, a cruel reminder of how desperate you were to move and that you couldn’t. 

Not yet. 

Peter’s hand moved from your hip to your back, slipping underneath your shirt.  

“No bra today?” You shook your head, unsure if the decision would result in pleasure or punishment. 

“P-Peter!” His name came out in the form of a desperate groan. Not that he minded. In fact, it spurred him on, his fingers continuing to tweak one of your hardening nipples. His hips shifted, causing his cock to move ever so slightly inside of you. Despite how small the movement was in reality, it began to fill the desperate ache you had been experiencing for the past twelve minutes.  

His ministrations would have continued, and perhaps you would have been able to move your hips without receiving a warning, had it not been for the stiff, robotic melody that signaled a video call request from Peter’s computer. 

Peter sighed, removing his hand from your shirt, “I’ll make it quick, okay? Just keep being a good girl f’me, kay?”

All you could do was nod. Being a brat wouldn’t get you what you wanted, if anything, it would make things worse, make him delay your pleasure even further. And you were already so close. 

“They-they can’t see us, right?” You whispered.

Peter shook his head, “I don’t turn my camera on.”

Betty Brandt’s voice quickly filled the room, “Parker, you done editing those photos?”

“Funny story, I was a few clicks away from finishing before you interrupted me, Brandt.” Peter shifted in his seat, leaning forward. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, your grip on his white shirt tightening.

“Not my fault you work so slow that Jameson told me to check up on you. He’s worried you’re fucking around while at home,” You could hear the eye roll. 

Peter chuckled, his free hand squeezing one of your hips, “I’m not fucking around." 

Liar. 

"I’ve been doing my work from the comfort of my own home. Not my fault that good work takes time.”

“When do you think you’ll have it done? In ten minutes? I need a specific time so I can get him off my back.” 

“How about in five minutes?” Peter offered, shifting his hips again. Was he doing this on purpose? The smirk on his face, the way his eyes darted back and forth between his computer screen and you indicated so. 

“You can actually do that?”

“Absolutely. I don’t have anything else to do for a while.” Another lie. 

His hand guided your hips upwards, then promptly pushed them back down until you were flushed against the base of his cock once more. 

“Peter,” you whispered, your voice dripping with desperation. 

“Be a good girl and stay quiet for me,” His voice was hot against your ear.

“What was that Parker?”

“Just my fiancé asking me about dinner, that’s all Betty,” Peter said, sounding ever so casual, like you weren’t in his lap, like his cock wasn't nestled inside of you. 

“She enjoys having you home or is she already sick of ya?” Betty asked with a chuckle. You didn’t mind Betty, she was actually one of your favorite coworkers of Peter’s. 

Except for right now. 

“Get her off,” You whispered into Peter’s ear, earning a smack on one of your thighs. 

“The hell was that Parker?”

“Just a fly! Pesky little things.” You were mesmerized as Peter balanced talking to Betty, making edits to the current set of photos, all the while his free hand was moving your hip up and down ever so slightly. 

It was torture. The flooding sense of relief had now turned into desperation for more. You wanted all of him, wanted to be able to raise your hips upwards until just the tip of his thick length was inside you, only to then slam down, providing immense pleasure to yourself and him. 

You wanted to tell him how good he felt inside of you, wanted his hands everywhere on your body, grasping and grabbing your flesh just so, his teeth nipping along your skin in a way that made your back arch. 

Instead you were clenching your thighs, trying not to move, trying to fight against his enhanced strength. It was a losing battle, one you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep silent. 

“She loves having me around. We keep each other company,” He said, placing a gentle kiss on your jaw.

“Parker, I still don’t know how you managed to land her.”

“What’cha trying to say Brandt? That she’s out of my league?” His teeth nipped along the soft skin of your neck, leaving what would later form as marks. 

“That is exactly what I’m saying, Parker.”

You often thought it was the opposite, much to Peter’s dismay. 

“You’re absolutely right,” He admitted before pressing another sweet kiss to your cheek. The gesture made you flustered, causing you to bury your head into the crook of his neck once more. 

“Don’t hide that pretty face from me,” He whispered, his voice now soft and sweet. It was moments like these that made you fall in love with Peter. How no matter what -even now- he took the time to sing your praises, to make you feel loved.

You lifted your head up, your bright eyes meeting his honeyed ones. His soft lips pressed against yours in a quick kiss. 

“Parker, are you done yet or are you truly just fucking around?” Betty’s voice interrupted the sweet moment, reminding you of your goal: for her to not know you were there. 

“Oh, I finished up those edits five minutes ago,” Peter replied, voice cheeky and smug. 

Asshole. 

“You asshole!” Betty cried, echoing your thoughts. Not that she knew. Or would ever know. 

“Careful Brandt, those are words that HR don’t like,” Peter laughed, bouncing one leg up and down, which made you cling onto his shirt once more. 

Betty scoffed, “Like HR will do anything, have you met our boss?” 

“Yeah, and I’m sure he’s waiting for you to tell him that I sent those edits to him.” Thank God. The conversation was nearing the end. 

“You sure bet I will. You’re not the only one who wants to get off Parker.” Interesting choice of words. 

“You know me so well Betty.” You wanted to wipe that cheeky smirk off his face. In fact, you had half a mind to raise your hips and slam them down, torturing him for a change. 

But that would create noise. 

That didn’t stop you from wanting to tease back. You just had to be creative about it. 

So instead, your lips started at his collarbone, leaving tiny kisses along his skin. Peter shot you a warning glancing, one that you merely fluttered your eyelashes in response as your lips began trailing upwards. 

As Betty began to ramble about the latest thing Eddie did to piss her off, your lips moved closer and closer towards that spot. 

“Don’t,” Peter quickly muttered, his grip on your hip tightening. Not enough to hurt you, but enough to let you know he was paying attention to you. 

“I’m not moving, like you said,” you muttered into his skin. Peter shook his head, knowing better than to let it slide. 

And he shouldn’t have. But then, as he often does, he got distracted by something Betty mentioned. Leading to the perfect opportunity to sink your teeth into that spot between his jawline and neck. 

What could best be described as grunt left Peter’s lips, both of his hands now gripping your hips in a vain attempt to stop you. The action caused his cock to shift inside of you, causing another strained groan from your fiancé. 

“You good Parker?”

“Yeah,” Peter all but grunted, leaning forward so he could better see the computer screen, specifically the exit call button, “Just bumped my knee against my desk. Anyways, I gotta go Betty. Bye.”

He didn’t bother waiting for his coworker to say goodbye, his attention fully on you now that the call was over. 

“You little-” His hands lifted your hips up, leaving you almost empty for a brief moment before he pulled you back down to the base of his cock. 

You threw your head back, releasing a high pitch whine that had been bubbling in your throat for the past twelve minutes. 

Peter didn’t relent, using his strength to move you up and down on his cock, like you weighed nothing, “Take off your shirt. Now.”

But that would mean stopping. That would mean his cock would no longer be thrusting in and out of your soaking entrance, and you had been waiting so long-

“What did Daddy say?” His hands stilled, keeping you firmly in place, “Did you forget your manners? Need Daddy to teach you?”

“No!” Flashbacks of the last ‘lesson’ appeared in your mind. How he teased you for hours, how you were unable to move due to the webbing that was on your wrists and ankles, how he made sure you teetered on the edge of pleasure for so long, before finally letting you fall over. 

With shaking hands, you removed your top, now completely bare to him. 

“Good girl,” He chuckled, “Not that you deserve to be called that after the little stunt you just pulled.”

His lips attached themself to one of your breasts, his teeth sinking into the hardened bud. The sudden pain made your back arch, desperate to curl into him, to be as close to Peter as possible. 

His hands continued moving your body, as his mouth alternated between your breasts. Meanwhile, your hands found purchase in his hair, grasping onto the short locks to steady yourself. 

Peter’s eyes looked up, taking in the sight of you with your lips parted and head thrown back in pleasure. 

Fuck you were beautiful. And all his. 

The tall tale signs of your impending orgasm were overwhelmingly clear; your whines increasing in pitch with each thrust, the way your teeth were digging into your bottom lip. 

“Ya gonna come for me bug?” He asked, his voice now gruff. It reminded you of how he sounded in the morning, when he just woke up. 

But there was no sleep lacing Peter’s voice this time. 

“C-Can I?” You stammered, barely able to focus on anything other than the way his cock brushed against that one spot that made your legs tremble. 

“Sure,” Peter chuckled before sinking his teeth into your collarbone, “But ya gotta ask nicely.”

“Can…can I-I,” his thrusts were unrelenting, making you see stars when your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Don’t think so. Look at me when you ask,” Long fingers gripped your chin, your eyes opening to find him staring into what felt like your soul. 

“Can I-I come? Please?” 

He shook his head, the downright devilish smirk adorning his face charming (though you should find it repulsing in this moment). 

“Who ya asking bug?”

Your voice broke, like a dam finally breaking, “P-Daddy! Daddy, please, can I come? Please?”

He pressed his lips against yours, the gesture would have been sweet if not for what you just begged for mere seconds ago. 

“‘Course ya can bug. You can always come on Daddy’s cock.”

Your fingers gripped his hair. The name asshole would have fallen from your lips if Peter’s calloused thumb hadn’t moved downwards to rub tight circles against your clit. 

A white hot pleasure overtook your whole body as you shook. You slumped over, head resting on his shoulder. 

His fingers didn’t let up, continuing to draw tight circles, prolonging your pleasure. 

Your eyes met his, that smirk remaining on his face. It then hit you that he wasn’t letting up, that he was going to continue. 

“A-asshole,” You gritted your teeth. 

“You fucking love it,” He simply grinned before attaching his mouth to your neck, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Your thighs seized up, hand gripping his shirt so hard, it was a genuine surprise the fabric hadn’t ripped yet. 

His name came out in the form of a broken, desperate chant, your body moving to continue chasing that delicious surge of pleasure. 

Peter's own desperate moans began filling the room, his own (rather successful until now) attempt of keeping himself together finally falling apart as he felt your walls squeeze his cock again. He buried his head into your chest, his moans sending vibrations along your bare body. 

“You-fuck-you want me to fill ya up, sunshine?” He grunted, voice now strained and shaking as he tried to keep his composure long enough to draw one more out of you. 

In the haze of pleasure, you saw how he was barely holding on; his calloused fingers were gripping the flesh of your hips harder than usual, enough for hand-shaped marks to appear the next day. His breathing was now irregular, coming out in the form of shakey moans that fell from his swollen lips. 

Peter may be able to crack jokes with thieves and criminals, but when your lips found that spot again, the one where his jaw and neck met, it was truly his weakness. 

His grip on your hips softened. Somehow, you found the strength to continue riding his cock, moving your hips up and down. 

Your name came out in the form of a broken whine, said over and over again like some sacred prayer. 

You brought your hips down once more, this time with more force. The sound of skin slapping against skin quickly filled the room, mixed with yours and his obscene moans, creating a sound so lewd, it would have anyone nearby turning bright red. 

"Want you t'fill me up," You whispered into his skin, the facial hair along his jaw brushing against your nose. 

"Wanna-fuck- wanna make you full of me," He could barely get out words to form a sentence, the sensation of you squeezing him so tight, your body so close to his, overwhelming. 

Your hands thread through his hair, tugging on the slightly sweaty locks. The sudden pull forced his head up, his eyes now boring into yours. 

“Yeah?” Your voice was raspy. Though he’d never say it out loud, you knew from the way his cock twitched inside of you how much he loved when your voice got like that; low and desperate, dripping with seduction. 

He weakly nodded. 

Your lips captured his in a desperate kiss, your tongue slipping past his lips to tease and taste him. Peter was fully at your mercy now, letting you guide the pace. 

“What are you waiting for then?” Your lips trailed up to the shell of his ear as your hips continued their ministrations, “C’mon Peter.”

It was hearing you say his name that led to his undoing; that led to him saying your name in the form of a beautifully broken moan, that led him to pulling your hips down, keeping you still as he filled you. 

You loved it when Peter came inside of you; loved how his eyes were slightly closed as his red lips parted, moans escaping. 

The sensation of being completely full of him spurred you on, your hips continuing to rise and fall. 

His thumb found your clit, rubbing lazy circles as you neared the edge of your next high. 

"C'mon sunshine," He groaned, "Use me." 

Your nails dug into his broad shoulders as you did exactly that. 

Peter loved when you got like this; gone with that sweet smile and in its place was a look of sheer, determined focus. 

His other hand came up to your throat, his fingers spreading across your skin as his grip tightened. 

As the oxygen slowly left your body, all you could focus on was how good it felt, sliding in and out of him. How loud the lewd reminder of how much you both had come echoed throughout the room. 

How good he felt. 

With one last thrust, you seized around him, back arching in pleasure as your body shook. 

"Attagirl," He encouraged, his grip on your throat only loosening slightly, still firmly in place as he watched you come. 

You slumped forward, your legs now jello. His arms wrapped around your back as he whispered soothing praises against your soft skin. 

"There she is, there's my girl," He murmured before placing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder. His smile burned into your skin, something that always made your heart flutter. 

Fingers trailed up to his dark locks, twirling several languidly, "Hey babe." 

The nickname never failed to make Peter blush. Which, in turn, never failed to make you giggled as you peppered his bearded cheek with light pecks. 

"Let's go get cleaned up, okay?" His hands moved to the backs of your thighs, ready to carry you. 

"Can we stay like this for a little longer? Please?" How could he say no to you? To spend more time being close to you? 

So his hands moved once more, one wrapped around your waist while the other gently stroked your cheek. 

"'Course sunshine. We have all the time in the world." 

You two did. 

[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.”

[privateanxieties]

a mob!Peter imagine

Summary: Nothing but whorish thoughts. mob!Peter x Reader

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

She was going to fuck him on this deal. Peter knew that much.

He didn't know her, but he always took his time reading her from across the room at every function she happened to attend. The way she moved between her guards and liaisons with a killer smile and breezy attitude had him lying back in his chair with intrigue on several occasions. She always behaved as though she wasn't traversing a nest of vipers and rats. Maybe she thought herself a different species altogether, rather than the head of any old criminal organization. Maybe she was too new at this altogether. Her grandfather let the rule of his empire skip an entire generation and land in her lap at all but thirty-two years of age. News of a late June celebration had made its way to his ears some months back. She was his senior by less than four weeks. He didn't know what that meant, if anything.

What he also could not seem to figure out how to do was escape her when he went home. The thought of her. The touch of her hand from when he'd shaken it on a cold December evening. Her scent as she offered her pretend condolences at his father's funeral by pressing a lingering kiss into his cheek.

Her name as he moaned it into the silk of his pillow a week later.

He'd been picturing her face, as he usually did when he touched himself, deadly eyes staring right through his soul and ordering him to come inside her. He didn't have to imagine that look on her anymore. Those eyes had been on display earlier that night, staring down his would-be killer and putting a knife through his neck from across the room. Power vacuums usually invited that sort of event, and his father's demise guaranteed Peter's ascension.

She could've let him die. Could've stood by and made sure the Parker line ended with him. But she didn't.

And now she was going to fuck him on this deal.

Peter couldn't find it in himself to give a shit. If she was going to fuck him... he just wished it would be in the way he'd been imagining for the past year.

-fin-

A/N: I... have no excuse for this.

[im-sleepdeprived]

do u think u can do a Peter Parker x reader where reader is gone for a while and has her phone off, and Peter gets super scared only to find out she’s alright?? I love ur work u’re the best xx

'No location found'

pairing: peter parker x reader

a/n: thank you for the request !!!! i had this written, then I decided to rewrite it lmao. I pictured college pete but Im not sure if I specified, also not sure if anyone saw my post abt writing a fic inspired by ‘peter’ by taylor swift but i think im going to start working on that and that its gonna be a mini series👀.... so stay tuned and request something in the meantime !!

warnings: none

masterlist, requests are open !!

“That’s not what I said!”

“Oh? Well, that’s what I heard.”

You two had been going at it for a while now. Peter had missed yet another date you’d both planned. It’d been a while since you both spent time together, and you thought he was finally going to change that. Until he just stood you up again. 

You’d thought after moving in together, you’d see him all the time. The opposite was true. He was always out, either on patrol, at Stark Tower, or wherever else his Superhero duties took him.  The problem was, that place never seemed to be with you.

“Y/N please-”

“No, Peter! I’m sick of it! I try to be understanding, I really do, I try to give you grace, but every time I do it’s like you just make it worse.” You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “Honestly at this point, it feels like you don’t even care anymore.”

His face fell. “Come on baby. You can't seriously think that! It was just a mistake, I won't do it again.”

You nodded, “Right. Think I’ve heard that one before.” You turned around and walked towards your shared bedroom.

“Woah, hey. Wait a minute, where’re you going?” His voice was hurt, and you almost felt bad for turning your back.

Shaking your head and looked down at your dress. You’d gotten all dressed up, expecting a nice dinner followed by a walk in the park. You said, “I’m tired, I’m gonna change and get ready for bed. Sorry, but hey, at least now your schedule is freed up,” you gave him a weak smile, “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Y/N you know it’s not like that. Look you’re all dressed up,” he reached for your arm, “we can still go out. Please, let me make it up to you”

Looking into his eyes, it took everything in you to pull away. 

“Peter,” you whispered, voice so quiet, yet so full of emotion. 

“I don’t want us to fight,” he begged. 

'We’re not fighting, not anymore. I just want to be alone.”

“Okay.” He nodded, but still kept his hand on you, reluctant to let go. “I’ll sleep on the couch?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice right now.

He deflated. He wasn’t exactly expecting you to object, but still. It hurt that you wanted to be away from him so bad. 

“Good night,” he muttered, watching you walk towards the door with sullen eyes. “I’m right here if you need anything.”

You gave him the tiniest tip of your head, not even bothering to turn around, “Night.”

There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight.

You slept in that day. It was Saturday and you didn’t feel like doing anything. Even after you woke up, you stayed in bed scrolling on your phone, heart pounding a little harder when you saw messages from Peter pop up, before effectively sliding them away.

After a few hours of doomscrolling, you stepped out of the room. You could see a throw blanket neatly folded on the couch, you have no idea if he’d even used a pillow. Your heart thrummed with guilt and you decided that tonight he was definitely sleeping on the bed. Or at the very least, you’d sleep on the couch. 

Walking into the kitchen, you noticed a tray with a note sitting atop a covered plate. When you got closer, you saw that the note held a cheesy breakfast pun. So Peter.

I love you a waffle lot! With a bunch of hearts around it. You couldn’t help it, you cracked a smile. He was such a dork. And you loved it. 

You heated up your breakfast and had gotten well into eating when your phone started ringing. Was it Peter? You didn’t really want to speak to him, not yet at least. You’d kind of hoped you wouldn’t have to until tonight-

You picked up your phone and almost let out a sigh of relief when you realized it was just one of your friends, Maddie. Then you felt bad for feeling relieved. 

You answered the phone. “Hey Mads, how's it going.” 

“Hi Y/N! Good! I was just calling to see if you wanted to go out tonight? Listen, before you say no-”

“No that sounds great actually,” you cut her off quickly, eager for an excuse to get out of the house. You’d been canceling plans for way too long in hopes of spending even a moment with Peter, and it seemed as if even your friends had noticed. But no more.

“Really? Great! So there's this raging new club,” she went on, giving you all the details of who was going and who might be there and you listened but barely felt a hint of excitement. You weren’t sure if it was because it was a frat party, and those things rarely appealed to you, or if it was lingering feelings from your argument with Peter. Which reminded you why you’d wanted to go out in the first place. 

“We’re gonna pregame at my place though, so stop by here and I’ll take you!” She finished, making you smile. Maddie was always sweet, a little more wild than you, but that’s what made you like her. 

“Sure Maddie, thanks for the invite.”

“Of course, can’t wait to see you, I feel like it's been forever since we went out together.”

You let out a small laugh, “I know what you mean. But we’re gonna change that tonight. 

You said your goodbyes and hung up. You needed to start getting ready soon, despite you just eating breakfast, you’d stayed in all morning and it was pretty late already. 

You got ready quietly, only a playlist you’d turned on droning in the background as you did your hair and makeup. You walked over to the closet to pick out an outfit and felt a little sad. Usually, Peter was here during this part, helping you pick out something, annoying you when he said you looked beautiful in everything. 

“Peter! I need real criticism!”

“Well, I can’t help it if my girl looks stunning in everything!”

You picked out a nice outfit you deemed fit for clubbing before grabbing a pair of heels and stepping out of your room. Looking around at the empty apartment you realized you should probably let Peter know you weren’t going to be home tonight. You didn’t feel like calling him though, and if you didn’t want to open his messages from earlier either so you decided to take a page out of his book. 

Grabbing a sticky note, you wrote down the briefest of explanations, before sticking it on your fridge and leaving. 

He had sent texts saying Good morning!, Do you need anything?, and another explaining he’d be out for a while but he’d made you breakfast, all in hopes of you responding to him. You didn’t, but that wasn’t too shocking to him. It didn’t make it hurt any less though. 

He knew he fucked up. He knew he’d disappointed you again, let you down again. He knew he deserved this and more. He should be grateful you weren’t giving him the more. And he was! But he couldn’t help the small selfish part of him that just wished you would let him take you out tonight, or give him something else he could do to make up for it because there was nothing he hated more in the world than when you were mad at him. And he did not want to sleep on the couch again. Sure it was uncomfortable but that was the least of his worries. He hated not sleeping next to you.

That had been his favorite part about the two of you moving into your own place, that he got to hold you every night. After a rough night of patrolling, or working too long on his studies, or a new gadget, he got to go home and hold you, get lost in your touch, and that always made everything better. And it killed him to know you were just down the hall, and he wasn’t with you. 

He tried his best to rush everything, trying to get all his work done for the day so he could spend the whole night with you. He was planning a movie night, bingeing all your favorites. He was gonna give you a proper date, soon, but right now, all that mattered was you two spending time together. 

On his way home, he stopped at a corner store to grab snacks for the two of you, making sure to get all your favorite ones. He even stopped at a flower shop not far from your apartment to grab you a bouquet and his heart fell when he realized how long it’d been since he’d done this. He definitely deserved the more. 

He knocked on the door of your apartment a few times and his heart fell as he realized you were either dead set on ignoring him, or you weren’t home. When he pulled out his keys and let himself in, he realized it was the latter. 

Sighing, he set down the bags of snacks and placed the bouquet down as he ran a hand through his hair as he walked around. He entered the kitchen and felt a little better when he saw the dishes he’d used to plate your breakfast were washed and on the drying rack, meaning you’d eaten. 

He was about to pull out his phone to see if he’d missed a text from you when he saw something on the fridge. 

“Went out. Be home late.”

His brows furrowed as he read. He didn’t know you had plans. Hell, he didn’t even know if you had plans now, your note barely explained anything.

All he could do was wait until you came home to sort everything out.

Peter could handle the silent treatment (barely), but what he couldn't handle, was not knowing if you were safe or not. No. That wouldn’t fly. 

He’d sent you a text when he got home, letting you know he got your note and to have fun and be safe. 

An hour later, he sent another text. Just as a little check-in. Still no response. 

It had been about three hours since he’d gotten back when he noticed that his messages had lost the little mark that indicated they were delivered. Weird. 

He tried to call you, he’d refrained from doing so before because he thought he should let you have your space (which was why, he assumed, you’d left in the first place) but it didn’t even ring, he just got sent straight to voicemail. 

What made him really start to panic, however, was when he went to check your location, which he felt so stupid for not doing before, and it wouldn’t load. It kept saying ‘no location found’ making his heart beat harder.

This was worse. You were ignoring him, his messages and calls weren’t going through. Something was wrong, was your phone off? Were you mugged? Or even worse-

He stopped himself before he could spiral too hard. That wouldn’t help, right now, he needed to figure out where you were and if you were okay.  He knew you weren’t the kind of person who would go out to bars or parties alone. Maybe you went out with a friend? Or maybe you were at a friend's? It was a place to start. 

He started calling your friends, people he knew you might go out with, and on the fifth call he finally got answers. Or…something like that. 

“Hello?” Maddie yelled into the phone, making Peter pull his phone away. 

“Hey Maddie, it’s Peter.”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s dude,” she slurred. 

“Yeah, yeah, Y/N’s dude. Hey listen, is she with you? She went out tonight but she forgot to tell me where, and now my messages aren’t sending.” His pulse was racing. It sounded like Maddie was out, if the blaring music in the background was anything to go off of, and he was desperate to know you were okay. 

“Sorry Patrick, what’d you say,” she asked making Peter’s brows furrow. They weren’t exactly friends, but he’d met Maddie a few times. Enough times for her to know his name was not Patrick.

He shook his head, that didn’t matter right now. “Y/N. Is she with you, do you go out together?”

“Oh!” She exclaimed as if she’d just remembered something. “Yeah, she is!”

Peter let out a sigh of relief. 

“Or, she was.” He held his breath again. 

“What do you mean ‘she was’? Where is she?”

“I dunno, she left I think.” Maddie let out a little hum as if to say ‘too bad!’ and Peter was sure she must be extremely intoxicated, otherwise there was no way she could be so casual about something like this. He could barely keep himself together.

He ran a hand over his face as he tried not to raise his voice. This was getting frustrating. “She left? Where’d she go? Where are you right now?”

“I don’t know…she was bored I think. She was off today. S’shame, she looked so hot.”

His heart clenched when he realized the reason you were off, was because of him. You didn’t have fun, so you left, now he had no idea where you were and it was all his fault. 

“Where are you, Maddie?” He repeated. 

“That new club on 27th! Get down here Paul, it's so much fun!” She gushed and Peter rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for this. 

He hung up quickly, not bothering to say goodbye before he got up to put his suit on. He couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you because you were upset and distracted because of him. That you weren't even speaking to him.

There was no way he was going to let anything happen to you. 

You were walking outside, up and down the sidewalk. You knew it wasn’t the safest decision but you didn’t really care. The club was stuffy, humid, and way too loud. You just needed to breathe, and then you’d go back. Maybe. 

You considered hailing a cab and going back home right now. You’d send Maddie a text, but she probably hadn’t noticed you’d left in the first. She’d been having a blast, unlike you, drinking shots and dancing with every guy she felt like. You weren’t sure she remembered you stopping her to tell her you’d be gone for a bit. 

On second thought, you were kind of hungry. You hadn’t eaten anything other than Peter’s waffles for you that morning and there was an amazing smell floating from a food cart at the end of the block. You could help yourself to something before going home. 

Before you could reach the food cart, you were flying. Or rather, swinging. You knew who it was right away. 

Just as fast as he’d snatched you up, Peter put you down on an isolated rooftop, leaving just you and him high above everyone else.

You were about to reprimand him, about to demand an answer as to why he’d just done that, but there wasn’t a chance before he was pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Pete?” Your voice was soft, you sensed there was something wrong and suddenly any anger or annoyance you held, from now or the night before, disappeared.

“You’re okay,” he mumbled as if that was his way of an answer. 

Your brows furrowed. “Well…yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He pulled away then, taking off his mask, and you saw just how terrified he looked, scaring you as well. There might’ve even been a little red rimming his eyes, making you wonder if he was holding back tears. “I came home and I brought snacks and flowers and I thought we could spend the rest of the night together but saw your note. So I texted you and I get that you’re mad at me-”

“I’m not,” you said, and you meant it. You weren’t mad at him, especially right now, seeing him all shaken up like this. “But what's wrong?”

“My texts weren’t delivering, my calls went straight to voicemail, and I couldn’t track your location. Y/N, I got so scared something happened and you weren’t talking to me.” He sniffled and your heart broke a little. 

You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone, but when you tried to turn it on—dead. 

“God sweetheart, never do that to me again. Please.” He looked at you desperately, “Yell at me. Fight with me. But please never ignore me anymore, I can’t stand it.”

“I’m so sorry Petey, I had no idea my phone died. I would’ve said something I swear. I never want you to worry like that.” Your hands went up to hold his face. 

He brought a hand to hold your wrist. Gently running his thumb up and down your hand he said, “I always worry about you sweetheart, it’s my job.”

You shook your head, “You worry about all of New York, I don’t need to add on to that.”

“No,” he said quickly, looking offended you’d even say that, “No. Never think like that. You are the most important thing in my life, okay? You’re my first priority and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, that I don’t show that or say it enough.

“But I’m going to do better, I promise. I’m going to make it up to you because I can’t lose you, I need you Y/N.”

You didn’t reply, instead just smashed your lips onto his. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you tight. It was a kiss of forgiveness, of second chances, and new beginnings.

He pulled away first, but not before pressing multiple kisses all around your face. “Heels off baby,” he said as he knelt down and started working on your heel straps, lifting each foot onto his thigh before undoing each one. You didn’t even realize how much they’d been hurting until they were off. “I’m swinging you.” He picked you up swiftly, one arm wrapping itself around your ribs.

You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Peteyyyy. You know the wind tangles my hair too much.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning over to kiss you on the top of your head, “I’ll be careful, c’mon.”

You move your head to peck his cheek and then hug him tight, “I love you.”

He grinned, pulling you in closer. “I love you more sweetheart.” He leaned back and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Hold on tight, Spider Monkey.”

You burst into laughter, “You did not just say that!” 

“Oh I totally did,” he gave you the goofiest smile, making you laugh again. 

“Ok, just…don’t let me go,” you said as you wrapped your arms tighter around him. 

“Never,” he replied, and something in his voice told you he wasn’t just talking about swinging. 

[scorpiomother]

APOCALYPSE (pt. two)

･ﾟ★ . Evergreen, he controls me. Was there something wrong with my body? Am I not what you wanted, babe? 

summary: round two on the first date!? things are getting more and more steamy between you and peter parker, but is sex enough to keep him around?

word count: 3.1k

warnings: explicit content. minors dni (+18) unprotected shower sex.

playlist 𓆩♡𓆪 mood board 𓆩♡𓆪 taglist 𓆩♡𓆪 series list

← chapter one

evergreen

Lathering your scalp with shampoo, you thought about how Peter’s thick hair smelled. It was fresh and piney. He smelled like a man that you could get completely lost in. 

Immediately after getting completely railed by a stranger, you went to shower. Was it to rid yourself of any remnants of Peter or to clear your mind? You didn’t know. It was the best sex you have ever experienced and yet, it was with someone you would have never imagined having intercourse with. 

After coming down from the high, you sat on Peter’s lap with his cock still in you and your head resting on his shoulder. You had ran a couple of blocks from the coffee shop to your apartment due to the un-forecasted rain and then proceeded to have vigorous sex for quite some time. All of your remaining energy went to riding dick and orgasms. 

Peter hadn’t said anything as you rested in his lap. He proceeded to mimic you and use you for comfort. He rested his head on you as you both caught your breath. His hands stayed glued to your hips, his thumb occasionally wandering to soothe you with soft rubs.

It was when you realized you didn’t want to leave Peter’s lap, you decided to shower. Staying there, with him, was dangerous. You were haunted by his insouciant demeanor at the coffee shop. You didn’t want to overstay this intimate position with him. Developing a connection with Peter didn’t seem like the best thing for you to do. Not to mention, you didn’t want yourself to get any more dick-matized than you already were becoming.

“I should shower,” you said to break the silence. You heard a hum come from Peter, a soft recognition of your words.

You could feel his chest moving up and down, his heart rate still high. Yours was too. You wish you could focus on anything else, but the rain had subsided and your thoughts were foggy with previous moments of sex.

“Is it okay if I send in an assignment to my photography class while you do that?” Peter said, his breath fanning across the back of your neck.

You shook your head up and down, because it was easier than saying anything. He made you feel shy. You were unsure if he would approve of you any longer, now that he came.

You wondered if he would still be in your apartment after your shower. You didn’t know what you preferred.

You let the continuous stream of water and steam consume you. The water ran so hot, fog ate up your body, and with closed eyes, you waited till the burning turned into nothing. You could see his warm, lust-filled eyes oozing all over your bare skin. He made you feel exhilarated like a hormonal teenage girl. Electricity ran up from your pussy to your chest. 

Embarrassed by your thoughts of Peter, you couldn’t help but hide your face in your hands. You haven’t had sex in some time, but that didn’t make you a sex-crazed woman with no boundaries. You have never been one to fuck on the first date, and after leaving the coffee shop, you were sure that was the end of knowing Peter Parker.

So what was it about him? Was it the kiss in the rain that turned you into putty or the way he sparingly gave you his smile? Or was it how intrigued you were by the mysterious Peter? 

For some reason, you wanted him to bare himself raw to you. As if he hadn’t already fucked you raw. You wanted more.

“Fuck,” you sighed. 

As you started to acclimate to the heat, you heard the door creak and a voice interrupt you. 

“Hey,” Peter said. Through the see-through shower door, despite having sex with you, he stayed on the other side of the bathroom door. His respect of your privacy made your face turn red.

“Oh. Are you heading on out?” You asked.

“Not yet,” he chuckled. 

“Oh?”

“I was actually wondering if I can join you,” he said. “Unless, you would rather me go.”

You waited for a moment. For what? You were unsure. Perhaps the correct answer would reveal itself to you in the form of writing on the foggy plexiglass. 

“I can go. That’s fine, really,” he assured you, breaking the stream of silence.

“You can come in,” you said softly.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“You can help me wash my back,” you offered.

With a squeak of the door hinges, Peter walked into the bathroom. Past the fog, you could see his Herculean build. The feeling of his solid body in your hands was seared into your mind, You could feel the blood rush to your already swollen pussy.

When Peter stepped in, you handed him a washcloth. He gave you a tender look that made you avert your eyes. He controlled you and he didn’t even know it. One moment he was coaxing a horny nymph out of you and the next he was turning you into a timid little girl.

You turned your back to him, the water grazing on your cheek. He started to sud up your back, scrubbing gently. He began at your shoulder blades, gradually making his way down to your arch. He was scrubbing in small circles that brought you surprising comfort. With the heat of the water and the residual lust in between your thighs, you let out a faint moan, soft enough that you weren’t sure that Peter could hear.

Whether Peter heard the pleasure escape from your mouth or not, Peter’s hands wandered to your chest and sudded up your breast with the washcloth. His thumb skimmed across your sensitive nipples. The warm water wasn’t enough to shield you from the shivers he brought you.

“Peter,” you sighed, feeling light-headed already. 

“Is this okay?” His lips nibbled your earlobe before bringing your back flush to his chest, his hard dick right between your ass. You couldn’t tell whether it was the shower or his precum on your lower back. You let your head hang back, the pleasure making you weak. Your flushed cheek felt the coldness of his hard chest, the steamy atmosphere new to his body. 

“So… Did you finish your assignment?” You said with your jaw relaxed, mouth slightly open. It’s like the steam that engulfed you two turned into a malicious, lust-inducing drug.

“Yeah, I sent it in,” he groaned as he grinded his cock against your ass.

“Cool,” you breathed out. He placed one hand around your neck, guiding you to his lips, and the other snaked down to your swollen bud.

His thumb played with your clit while his middle finger dipped into your hole. Your clit twitched at his touch. “Peter, I’m so sensitive.”

“Good,” he snarled, taking your lips to his. He fingered you gingerly, his ring finger slipping in. His two fingers entered your smooth walls repeatedly, a mix of shower water and your pussy juices glazing his digits. Peter slid his fingers out of you and you watched him put his fingers in his mouth, tasting you.

“You taste perfect,” he said before sliding his fingers in your mouth. It was a mixture of his saliva and your tart cream. “You’re such a good girl.”

“I want to taste you,” you admitted shamelessly. He lowered all of your inhibitions, all of the shame.

“Fucking slut,” he smirked. “Taste me, then.”

It was like a dance the two of you rehearsed. Fluid and quick movements. An ease to it all. You both know your roles and your place. You’re the slut and he’s the puppeteer. 

You get to your knees, the porcelain tub rigid and rough against your skin. Your eyes are glistening back at him before your stare drifted down to the subtle happy trail on this abdomen. You kissed his hip bone and took a good look at his long and thick cock before you devoured his member.

You started at the base, pressing delicate kisses all over his member. Your eyes looked for his approval as you grip his cock with your hand. 

His eyes darken watching you grip harder. The water dripped down his marbled body like he was a greek statue and you were the admiring nymph at his feet. The need to please him buzzed in your abdomen. The hunger to satiate your god.

You took his cock into your mouth finally, swirling your tongue around his sensitive tip. When Peter let out a groan, you decided to take him fully. His noises were like praises to you and you wanted more. You sucked and bobbed, begging him for more praises with your mouth. You held onto his hips to stabilize yourself as you choked down on his cock.

“Jesus,” he huffed out. “You’re mouth feels almost as good as your pussy.”

You felt your heat grow needy at his words, but you wanted to please him more than you wanted to be filled. Water trickled down your forehead, wetting his cock perfectly for you to suck as you please. You let the tip of his cock press against the back of your throat as you fondled his balls.

“Fuck, Y/N.”

You watched Peter’s head fall back in pleasure. You, a mere mortal, bringing this statuesque of a man to ecstasy. You were horny to see him so pleased with your mouth. You found yourself enjoying his cock way more than you intended, moaning as his cock slid in and out of your mouth. Your hums against his cock vibrated. He was turning weak from just your mouth. 

 “Stand up. I’m cumming in you,” he demanded. Like the loyal slut you were, you did as you were told. You released his cock with pop. Peter groaned at your release.

Peter turned you around, pressing your body and face against the tile wall. Your sensitive nerves burned with the feeling of cold tile. You could feel the hot water glide off of your back. You were so overstimulated with different feelings. Cold. Hot. Horny. Deprived.

“Do you want it?” Peter whispered in your ear.

“Desperately,” you answered.

“My own personal slut,” he laughed before rewarding you with his saliva-soaked cock. It slid in with ease. Your pussy had already been stretched by his cock earlier and was slick from sucking him off. As he drilled his cock into you, you felt grateful to him. Grateful for the way his cock rubbed against your walls and the way he marked your collarbone in a plum hue. 

“Please don’t stop!” You begged.

Past the sound of water hitting your bodies and the shower floor, reckless moans filled the small room. Fuck the neighbors, you think. You let your control go and moaned with rapture as you fused together. Your orgasm sprouted in your abdomen, the heat growing bigger and bigger. Your thighs started to shake at the feeling of Peter’s cock guiding you to climax.

“Cum for daddy,” he cooed. His hands massaged your breasts, pestering the electricity to grow. You legs were growing weaker. 

“I’m so close, Peter,” you moaned back.

He sucked at your neck and placed his hand on your belly, putting pressure on your womb. You felt yourself melt completely. Your pussy twitched and your abdomen became warm with your climax. Your pussy’s sporadic clenching made Peter see stars. He was matching your pace about to cum himself. He pounded his hips into your ass, his balls pressed against your ass. 

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” he said, clenching onto your hips.

“Please, Peter!”

He rocked into you, using your pussy as his own personal hole. Peter’s dick pulsed against your walls, his orgasm mixing with yours. 

Despite climaxing already, he continued to roll himself into you. A slow and steady pace. One that said he didn’t want this to end. He was soaking his cock into your pussy, letting his milk saturate your walls. Ensuring to make his mark on your body and in your thoughts. Making sure your thoughts were lewd of him. It felt as though he was sedating you with his cock. He guided you to two orgasms and now you felt yourself heavy eyed and weak.

Peter pressed his lips to your temple. It was a thank you and a good job. The praise you so desperately needed from him. When he finally pulled out his cock, you could feel his semen drip down your legs and the emptiness between your legs. 

He held onto you, turning your body to face him. His eyes bore into you, studying the way he made such a mess out of you.

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

Now in your room, you wrapped the plush robe around your fatigued body. You had excused yourself to your room while Peter finished up in the shower, desperate for some time to process your thoughts.

The atmosphere was gloomy with the evening rolling in, a sliver of sky illuminating your room to something close to viewable. You looked at the mirror atop the oak dresser and were presented with your red and purple-dusted reflection. You were more colorful than you were in the morning, your face flushed and your breasts blemished with hickeys. You examined the bruises that Peter had left. It looked like your breasts were stained with wine, and no matter how hard you rubbed, it remained. 

A gentle knock at the door disrupted you. When you opened the door, you’re pleasantly surprised with half-naked Peter, his lower half wrapped around in a towel. Your eyes wandered to the barely secure towel and his chiseled v-cut. You tried your best to not ogle him right in front of his face with no luck.

“My eyes are up here,” he laughed.

“Can you blame me?”

“Hmm no, but god… you smell good,” Peter inhaled. 

“Lavender and Tonka,” you said holding your lotioned hand out for him. He took another whiff, his nose grazing against your hand.

“What the fuck is Tonka?” He questioned.

“Why would I know that?” You couldn’t help but laugh. 

You’re met with his eyes, something terribly dangerous for your weak heart. A buzz emitted from you, his intoxicating whisky eyes turning you addicted. He looked like he was enjoying his view as much as you were.

“What?” You asked him, your lips tugging at your cheeks.

“Nothing… But I get why cannibals exist.”

“What!?” You guffawed at his ridiculous response.

“I want to eat your hand. Give it to me,” he reached out for your hand and pulled you into him in one easy motion, your body now against his. He playfully bit your ring finger, luring a giggle from you. 

Your cheeks started to burn, elation running through you.

Maybe he wasn’t as emotionally unavailable as you thought! He was capable of forming a connection with you and conversing like a normal human being! At first, you tried to convince yourself he was just nervous at the coffee shop, but now it felt like it was the truth. 

“You’re funny,” you admitted easily.

“Cannibalism isn’t funny, Y/N,” he smiled. 

You liked when he joked around with you. It seemed natural when he was like this. Goofing around and teasing. It made all of your instincts to run away dissipate.

You were in Peter’s arms, your heart only a couple of inches from his. You wanted to rest on his chest and listen, count his heartbeats, and memorize the pace. See if his heart was in tandem with yours.

Before you could give in, his words break you into shameful pieces.

“I think I should head out,” he said.

“You’re going?” 

You can feel your heart stuck in your throat. Of course, you didn’t expect him to sleep over, but you had no idea how any of this was going to go. You were interested in him and not only because of his magical cock. You couldn’t wrap him around your head. First, he threatens you with cannibalistic propositions and soon after decides to leave?

“Yeah, the weather cleared out a while ago.”

“I mean your clothes must be soaked still.” 

“Ah, it’s fine,” he said with such nonchalance that it annoyed you. 

“What I’m saying is you can stay. It’s getting late,” you laughed, hoping it would release the tension in the air. 

“Thank you, but…” Peter trailed off before landing on his final answer. “I have homework and Queens isn’t too far.”

You tried to pull his gaze back to you, but his averted eyes were stubborn. He could no longer bring himself to look at you for some reason. “Alright.” Your voice echoed to your feet.

You felt your eyes bug out of your skull as you watched him pick up his wet clothes from the ground and clothed himself. It was pitiful to watch and even more, it was pitiful to feel this unwanted.

You couldn’t help but to blame all of this on Harry, even though you were the one who invited Peter into your home.

Was this Harry’s way of punishing you? You rejected his many date propositions so he offered you a date with a fuck boy? Did Harry want you to run, crying to him about being used? 

Rather than walking him to the door, you plopped yourself on your reading chair in the corner. Now fully clothed, Peter waved to you with one hand, the other gripping the soggy backpack on his shoulder.

“Well, get home safely, Peter.” You said dryly.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

You watched him leave your apartment in drenched clothes, a sign that told you he would have rather be uncomfortable and cold than stay with you.

Your high was coming down. For a brief moment, you were in heaven. Now, it almost felt like you were sulking in hell. It was disillusioning to believe that Peter was suddenly going to find you interesting. He showed you who he is at the coffee shop and you still invited him into your home. You felt like a fool.

You realized it was him getting one last fuck in before he left. A two-for-one deal.

Was he just a fuckboy? The average man who treats women like objects to be used? And when he is satiated, all of his cum pumped into you, he will throw you away?

You weren’t going to let yourself be gaslit into thinking that you were overreacting and overthinking. But it still felt like this was all your fault anyways.

The smell of sex and his evergreen musk still lingered in the room. A reminder that he fucked you and quickly after, left. Beneath your feet were the wet spots from Peter’s clothes on the floorboard. There were indents on the couch from your bodies grinding up against each other. This was your apartment and yet it was now shared with remnants of Peter. It was bad enough that your thoughts were plagued with him.

You could tell this was going to be a concoction of everything that felt good and everything that was bad.

→ chapter three

a/n: i mostly rushed this! you could basically say that i was too excited to keep this momentum going and push it out. sorry if that’s evident in my writing but i’d rather not let writers block stop me from writing this lmfao. ENJOY THE SMUT! love me some asshole peter parker,, yess give me mixed signals baby xoxo scorpio mommy