#omg parker

[angsty-art-ist]

my magnum opus actually

[divine-girl02]

hes so freakishly tall and lanky <3

[jothinksalot]

[vamprnce]

get his ass Fel

[1300marshall]

He hates Peter a normal amount

[kiloude-city]

How am I supposed to be normal about them and treat Peter like he's straight and Wade has a unrequited crush on him after this?

[whosectype]

I watched the new Spider-Man across the spiderverse

[sernhuh]

More faroeverse idk what else to draw other than this boy-ish lesbian

[rodolfoparras]

Pillow talk

Pairing: FTM! Peter B. Parker x Top Male Reader

Synopsis: In which Peter, a married man, gets off to the thought of being with someone other than his spouse

Content tags: 18+, MINORS DNI, emotional infidelity, cheating kink, pillow humping, masturbation, oral sex, Peter has a size kink, Peter being a bit of a pervert

A/n: as always pls excuse any mistakes I tried a new writing style here, also if you want you can listen to More Than Friends by Isabel LaRosa while reading this since it’s heavily inspired by it!

A tired sigh escapes Peter’s lips as his bones bleed into the sheets. The window’s cracked ajar, allowing cold autumn air to mingle with the smell of MJ’s perfume that’s lingering around in the room.

He’s stripped down to nothing but his tattered pink robe, searing skin exposed to the chilly sensation emitting from his wedding ring as it trails along the length of his body.

For the first time in a while Peter’s gotten some time alone.

MJ has taken Mayday for the day and left so that Peter could have the house to himself, claiming he’d been pent up for a while and supposedly needed a break.

Peter hadn’t argued against it but had instead taken the offer with grace since it’s true that he has been feeling pent up but not for the reason MJ thinks. Peter’s sure that if she knew the reason behind his recent behaviors she wouldn’t be so willing to help him.

For the last couple of weeks Peter’s been plagued with the realization that he didn’t hate his neighbor, not his next door neighbor because that man is a menace and Peter’s pretty sure the hate’s mutual.

Instead he’s come to the realization that he didn’t hate his neighbor on the floor below him, that neighbor being you.

At first he was sure that he hated you since you made his spider senses tingle, well at least that’s what he thought it was.

He’d first met you at a neighborhood block party. You had recently moved in or so he had heard and were more than eager to get acquainted with the neighbors for whatever reason.

You were lounging around in a lawn chair when he had first arrived with MJ and Mayday.

The poor thing threatened to give out under your weight but you paid it no mind as you entertained a conversation with a neighbor and nourished a beer in your hand.

When you rose to greet him, Peter noticed that you were a whole head taller than him so it was no wonder that you made his spider senses tingle.

He tried his best to ignore you but even when he couldn’t see you, he could smell you since you wore this stupid cologne that smelled stronger than anything MJ’s ever worn before and because of that he could always tell when you were lingering around.

If he thought that smelling and seeing you was bad then touching you was something else.

He’d purposely opted out of a handshake when you first greeted each other but that didn’t save his spider sense from going into overdrive after having your knees knock together while you were sat at the same table or having your elbows brush against each other while scooping up leftovers.

However even though you made his spider sense go off, Peter had quickly realized that you weren’t a threat, at least not a dangerous one.

You were friendly and always made sure to spark up a conversation with him, even when you'd be in a rush to something.

You’d go out your way to bring him any of his mail or packages that happened to be misplaced.

Hell you'd even baby sat Mayday a handful of times so it was safe to say you weren’t a threat. But for whatever reason Peter couldn’t seem to get you out of his head.

Especially after hearing your ever so polite voice protruding through his thin bedroom walls, your dirty words squeezing between his and Mj’s hushed conversations. Or seeing the way you basically engulfed whoever was in your arms but unlike the lawn chair they seemed to thrive from being in your embrace. And escaping the smell of your cologne turned out to be a hard feat since every other day someone would be prancing around in one of your shirts dozed in the smell of it.

He doesn’t even remember when he started making sure that he’d be the one to pick Mayday up from your house, just to see whatever lounge wear you’d be prancing around in that day and the bit of skin that always seemed to show through it.

He doesn’t remember when he started hoping that the mailman would misplace yet another letter or package just so that he could feel your calloused fingertips brushing against his as you handed him something.

He doesn’t even remember when he started biting his tongue just so he wouldn’t ask you who he had seen standing outside your door the previous night.

He shouldn’t be feeling like this. He has MJ and he has Mayday and as far as he knows he’s happy. He’s just pent up, like MJ had said.

It’s not like Peter and MJ don’t have sex. It’s just that she doesn’t do it for him, at least not anymore.

Every time they get intimate he’d have to fake an orgasm or jerk off after she’d gone to bed. Lately he’s even had to pretend to be asleep every time she tried to initiate something because he simply wasn’t up for it.

So he’d find other ways to entertain himself and one of the ways being with inappropriate thoughts of his neighbor.

And things kind of escalate from there not in the literal sense since you’re so fucking polite, wont even look at him twice, keeping a respectful distance to a man who has a kid and a wife.

But God Peter wishes that you did, so much so he imagines you pinning him to the bed, hip to hip, chest to chest, those strong arms and thighs caging him into the mattress

The tattered robe wrapped around his frame doesn’t compare to the way your body would feel on top of his. But he keeps it on anyway, closes his eyes and pretends that the hand leisurely dragging across his limbs is your body pushing down onto his.

He imagines the way your lips would slot together, hot breath washing over his cheek as you whisper dirty words to him.

A thumb finds his lips, teasingly tugging and taunting at the bottom lip. It feels nothing like your calloused fingertips but his tongue peaks past his lips, tasting the salty skin before sinking down on it.

He imagines how you’d tease and taunt him in that polite voice of yours that managed to whisper such dirty words, how you’d mock him for wanting to be fucked like a bitch in heat despite the wedding band digging into his skin, maybe you’d force him to say it just so that he hears it from his own lips or so that the whole neighborhood can hear how desperate he is.

He imagines you straddling his waist grinding into him while wearing nothing but your boxers, teasing him to point where he’s soaking through his own pair of underwear.

A hand slides down his chest, blunt nails dragging down his happy trail, only to stop at the fringe of curls atop of his cunt, tugging and taunting til he’s all worked up.

He imagines your long fingers thrusting into him , or making him finger himself while wearing his wedding band, prepping himself to be fucked by someone other than his spouse.

And God he’s already so wet, fingers easily coating in his arousal as he trails them up his cunt, and in that very moment he can't help but think how MJ never gets him like this.

But his fingers are not enough- this little fantasy of his is not enough but you’re too good to do anything about it so he rolls onto his stomach before propping the pillow between his legs, pretending it’s your face.

He imagines the bed creaking under your shared weight, and the way the smell of your cologne would engulf his senses. He imagines the way your calloused fingertips would sink into the supple skin of his thighs and the way your ever so polite voice would sound as you command him to properly sit down.

He starts moving slowly, rolling his hips cautiously, imagining the way your tongue would experimentally delve through his folds.

The pillow slides in between his folds, coarse fabric creating a steady pressure onto his engorged numb, not enough to overwhelm his senses but enough to send jolts of pleasure coursing through his body every time he moves his hips.

He imagines you wanting to take your time with him wanting to taste him, tongue licking a strip along his cunt up to his puffy clit where you’d continue to tease him until he’s begging and urging you to hurry before someone can find the two of you like this.

But you wouldn’t listen to him, wouldn’t care if anyone were to find you like this, hand slapping his ass in warning before you continued to do as you pleased.

His hand cups the globe of his cheek, much like the way you’d do it if you were with him, except his fingers feel nothing like yours. But the cold sensation from his ring as it slaps his searing skin sends sparks of pleasure coursing through his entire body and for one second it almost feels like you’re actually there with him.

The coarse fabric of the pillow case reminds him so much of your stubble and it’s so wrong but feels so right - the thought of being fucked by someone other than his wife as huffs and pants escape his lips, hips moving faster as he wanders back to his fantasy.

He imagines you having him so worked up to the point where Peter’s long forgotten about the fact that someone can just walk in on you two because the bed’s creaking and he’s loudly begging and pleading for you to stop teasing.

Eventually you'd take pity on him, showing him mercy by properly latching onto his puffy clit, eagerly suckling on it before tonguing his hole.

He adjusts his hips, and the angle in which the pillow hits his clit changes slightly, and intensifies the sensation along with it.

“Oh- oh fuck!” He squeals out, toes curling as he throws his head back.

He imagines the way you’d easily have him teetering on the edge of his release with Peter begging and pleading for you to let him finish.

He can almost taste it, can hear the Squelching sounds mingling with the sound of needy noises escaping his lips. He can even smell his arousal: strong and heady, knowing he’s probably stained the pillow under him and will need to wash it before MJ comes back but for now he can’t find it in himself to care.

He’s so close, needs just a bit more -and that’s when he picks up on the sound of your footsteps walking up the stairs, smells the scent of your cologne bleeding into the air.

You must be on your way to his apartment to bring yet another misplaced package.

And Peter knows it’s wrong but it feels so right, feels himself tip over the edge as you read what’s written on the parcel, out loud

“To Peter B. Parker, please handle with care”

[tesspool]

me when im spiderman and im emo and sad

[hearts-4buck]

Marvel + incorrect pictures (mostly young avengers)

[mdawgswizzleinthehizzle]

a few examples of pedro pascal’s joel miller smiling to brighten your feed

[german-garbage]

"Your doctor is... 🦎the Lizard🦎?"

[romcomxb]

peter and wade discovered the 0.5 filter

logan wasn’t impressed

cropped versions below the cut

fuck i forgot logan’s mutton-chops

mbbbb

[vamprnce]

I must always draw them silly and cute together 💘🫶

based off of that one petermj panel + also bonus unmasked Pete version under the cut :)

[heartsandstars46]

Imagine Peter like sitting down with you before bed and reading to you 🥺

(You can just respond to this with your thoughts or this could be a request if you'd like)

My first request! 😭🥹 tysm lovely, it was a lot of fun to ride this creative wave! It ended up being a fluffy lil prequel to bf tasm!Peter x fem reader where he takes care of you when you have a cold. 🫶🫶🫶

word count: 1.1k

Be Nice to Spiders

“Peter, I’m fine. You didn’t have to come all the way home with me from the Daily Bugle.”

He stared at you. “Oh sure, right, you're totally fine on your own practically bumping into things and slurring your words. How much of that cold medicine did you take? Is this your house key?”

You couldn’t deny that his concern was sweet, especially since you guys were just coworkers/kind-of-friends.

“Yeah. Wait… we took the subway already?”

Peter laughed, unlocking your front door. “Yes. You slept most of the way. On my shoulder.”

“Oh my god. I hope I didn’t drool on you!”

Peter could only laugh as he ushered you inside and locked the front door. “No, you were fine.”

“Great. Well, okay then!” You dropped your bag and coat on the living room floor. “I think I need to lay down.”

“Good idea. Is this your bedroom here?”

“Yep. God, I need to put on some comfier clothes.” You were too out of it to care or fully remember that Peter was standing in the doorway. Luckily, he spun around in time to avoid seeing anything or getting hit with a flying blouse. 

“Whoa! Ha! Um, just let me know when you’re changed there.”

“Okay, all good!” Now in your pjs, you climbed into bed.

“Great.” Peter pulled the comforter up to your chin, then frowned. “Do you mind if I…?” He gently pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. “Oh man, you’re burning up.”

“It’s okay, I just need to sleep it off.”

“You should probably take something to bring down the fever.”

His care and kindness made your heart flutter. “Don’t worry, I already did. Hey, Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you gonna head out now?“

“Uhh… not yet, if that’s all right. I think someone should keep an eye on you in this state.”

“Cool.” You smiled and pulled the blankets nearly up to your nose. 

Peter looked around for a place to sit and dragged your desk chair over to the edge of the bed.

“Hey, what did your parents do for you when you were sick?” You asked. “Did they read to you?”

“Ah, maybe? If my father read anything to me, it was probably, like, Watson and Crick discovering the DNA double helix.” Peter looked very pleasantly surprised when you laughed. “I’m going to choose to believe that wasn’t just the medicine talking and that you truly appreciate my fine science humor. I’m guessing your parents read to you?”

“Oh yeah, every night. We practically lived at the library.” You smiled, remembering. “Goodnight Moon, The Snowy Day, all that stuff, sure, but other awesome books that people have probably never even heard of. Like If I Owned a Candy Factory! Ooh, or Be Nice to Spiders! Whoa, are you okay?”

It looked as though Peter had nearly fallen out of his chair. (Weren’t you supposed to be the woozy one?) “Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, you had a book about being nice to spiders?”

“Yeah! I don’t remember much, except that the spider’s name was Helen, and she was actually really helpful to people—and that’s why you should be nice to her instead of scared of her. And I was terrified of bugs as kid, so my dad made it, like, required reading. Look it up, see if it’s on Google Books or Amazon, or something. It’s a real book, I swear. This is not the medicine talking!”

Peter started scrolling on his phone and murmured, bemused, “Spiders are really helpful to people. Oh wow, here it is—Be Nice to Spiders. And the spider’s name is, in fact, Helen.”

“I knew it!”

Peter smiled. “So… how do you feel about spiders today? Are you still nice to them?”

“I try to be. They’re not here to hurt anyone, and they spin their cool webs. Why do you look so excited about this? Please don’t tell me you have, like, a pet tarantula or something, because I cannot deal with that.”

He laughed, looking weirdly delighted. “No, no tarantula, don’t worry.”

“What then?”

“I don’t know. I guess you’re just… cooler than I thought.”

You stared at him. “Oh yeah, that’s me! Sleeping on you on the subway, babbling about kids’ books and spiders, super cool. What a delight!”

Peter smiled. “You are a delight.”

Your face suddenly felt flushed and not entirely from the fever. You had thought he was cute and sweet for a while now. And you were just delirious enough to make the slightest bit of a move…..

“You know, there’s something else my parents used to do when I was little and couldn’t sleep. My mom would sit next to my bed, kind of like where you’re sitting, actually, and she’d hold my hand. It was like that last earthly connection as I drifted off to sleep.”

It looked like he was trying not to smile. “And that helped?”

“Yeah, it felt really nice. Comforting.”

“Do… you think it would help if I did it?”

You nodded shyly. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay.”

Slowly, tentatively, you reached toward each other. You’d only ever grazed hands exchanging papers at the office. You could feel your heart beating faster. Then you noticed Peter’s face.

“Hey, you’re awfully flushed. Oh gosh, I hope I’m not getting you sick!”

His face turned an even deeper shade of red, and he ducked away from you. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m great. Don’t worry about me, you’re the patient here.”

Hmm. You smiled, interlacing your fingers. Could it be that he liked you too…?

“Peter, I really appreciate this, but I don’t want to make you stay all night.”

“Actually, uh, if it’s okay, I’d rather not leave. I want to make sure you’re okay. If that’s okay’s with you.”

He was so endearing when he got flustered. “Sure. And you don’t even have to hold my hand or read me kids’ books all night, I swear.”

“Oh, that’s right!” With his free hand, he picked up his phone, scrolled a bit, then looked at you, cleared his throat, and said very seriously. “Be Nice to Spiders. A dramatic reading.”

You laughed and snuggled down into your cozy bed, your hand holding his.

“‘One morning as the Keeper of the Zoo was about to unlock the gate, he noticed something on the steps. It was a matchbox with a note that read: ‘Please look after Helen. I’ve had her since she was a baby, but I can’t keep her anymore. We have to move to an apartment that won’t take pets.’”

You could feel yourself smiling as your eyes grew heavy and began to close. Peter’s hand was warm and gentle; you didn’t mind it being your last earthly connection as you drifted off to sleep.

Part 2!