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fairlyang · 6 months ago

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miguel’s version🕷️

w/c: 1.5K

pairing: miguel o’hara x peter b parker x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut. mig’s bright idea, tiny bit of possessiveness, fingering, fucking, kind of a 3some but not really, unprotected sex x2

notes: didn’t expect this to be my comeback but I’ll take it! my phone is on 2 😀 no translations bc I’m so tired n it’s barely anything dw also no part 2 tis a one thingie

miguel, who was such a dirty fucking pervert, had the grand idea of doing one of those tiktok challenges where people play rock paper scissors for delicious food and the winner gets to eat it while the other has to run behind them then come back

but the plot twist for his version is that it’s not food they’ll get to eat, instead he and peter b will be playing for your pussy

he had the idea as soon as he saw one of those challenges that had crumbl cookies and thought, “I know something that’s sweeter.”

so on a whim he just blurted it out while you guys were just chillin in his office in that exact moment because why the fuck not and because he was already hard

he really couldn’t help it

peter didn’t need any convincing and you were just unsure you heard him right

he repeated it and you just bit your lip as well as subconsciously squeezing your thighs together because that just sounded so hot

he grabbed a chair near him then dragged it over to you and while you blinked, looking all confused but pretty, he turned you around and had you arch your back then you got the hint and grabbed onto the back of the chair

now fortunately for all of you, your suit was just like miguel’s, holographic in a sense so with a touch of a button on his own watch, he made the lower half of your suit disappear

you gasped and shivered at the slight cold breeze but now just felt pure excitement

“hope you won’t get in trouble Parker.” Miguel scoffs before passing you his phone so you could record it

you hit the camera on his phone and you felt Peter behind you then seeing him when you flipped the camera so you could get them both in frame

you stuck your ass out like a good girl and you could’ve sworn you heard a groan

“we run to where those bookshelves are then come back.” miguel points and peter eagerly nods

you saw miguel nod on the screen and you switched it so it’d be a video and quickly hit record while you recorded over your shoulder a bit so your ass could be in view along with the two men

miguel’s office was quite large so they had plenty of room to run and then come back

“rock paper scissors!”

miguel pulled rock and peter scissors.

miguel dropped to his knees and immediately began devouring your pussy while peter full on sprinted towards the bookshelf

you moaned as miguel sucked on your folds and you had to grip the chair harder just in case your legs wanted to give up on you

he wrapped his arms around your ass and moaned, sending shivers down your spine as you slowly started to grind yourself against his face

he gave your ass a hard smack, earning himself a whimper while he went lower and started sucking on your clit

suddenly his mouth is gone and you look at the camera to see peter was back and they went back into it

“rock paper scissors!!”

peter pulled scissors and miguel paper

peter dropped to his knees and teased your hole with the tip of his finger before slowly sliding it in, then after one singular second he started pumping it into you at a fast pace with no care if you were ready for it

you cried out and felt your walls clenching on his fingers meanwhile he was just leaving kisses on your ass as if it were nothing

“p-peter-“ you moaned and felt your eyes flutter

he hummed and went even faster, the noises from your pussy becoming louder then suddenly the pleasure is gone

“what the fuck-“ you whined and miguel was back

you groaned, not realizing this was just going to be “edge the fuck out of your girlfriend day” but with how desperate they are to please you maybe an orgasm will come

through glossy eyes you saw they had a tie with rock then miguel won with paper

he got to his knees and just slid two of his fingers inside you before just slamming them into you relentlessly making you let out a full-throated moan

“baby- fuck I didn’t think-“ you start then can’t form a coherent sentence as he starts sucking on your clit

“Mmm fuck! j-jus- like that-“ you cry and roll your eyes back

your juices were leaking down and he could taste every drop you were giving him, he wasn’t so sure he’d be able to control himself anymore

peter came back and he shoved miguel off you as he caught his breath, bringing his fist up

trying to control your shaky hands to steady the camera a little but at this point it might just be useless

especially after feeling three fingers slip inside you and you couldn’t even see the screen anymore so just having to guess who won

you felt a kiss on your ass and that answered your question so you just moaned out his name

“fuck peter! p-please don’t stop-“

he moaned against your skin and fucked you harder, just having the need to hear your pretty moans

then he felt hands on his shoulder and he was harshly pushed to the floor

you whined feeling the emptiness and weren’t sure you liked this idea so much anymore

you tried to wipe your eyes with your arm when you let out a gasp followed by a moan now feeling a thick cock inside over some fingers

you could see miguel’s patience ran thin, especially with the way he bottomed out immediately and just stayed deep inside you

“feel so good baby.” he groans into your ear and pulls a bit back before shoving his hips into yours making you both moan

“hard mig please-“

he groaned and pounded into you with all his force, the sounds of your skin slapping echoing throughout his office peter was able to hear it clearly

“tan perfecta, tan bella-“ he moans and grabs onto your hips making you fuck yourself back into him

you tried your hardest to keep the phone steady but at this point it was useless and just focused on how amazing miguel was fucking you

it was like he was trying to prove a point, what it was who knows but it sure did feel incredible

suddenly it was gone and you groaned, making sure both of them knew you didn’t want this stupid game to go on for much longer

after an eye roll you looked at the camera and peter positioned himself behind you when you heard a rip

before even getting the chance to clown him on how cheap his suit must’ve been, he slammed himself into you

not wasting any time he lowered his body so his chest was against your back and he was holding your stomach with one hand and your face with the other

you slightly turned your head to the left and looked at him with fucked out glossy eyes and he did not hesitate to kiss you as he gave you deep strokes

you kissed back and closed your eyes, letting your sense of touch take over your entire body

he presses his hand on your stomach a little bit making you whimper into his mouth which just drove him absolutely insane

then the expected happens and miguel forcibly shoved him off with all his strength because he was calling it

“last round” he growled making you and peter both whine

“but-“

“I don’t care-“

“pero-“

“Bebé me vale.”

you pouted, mainly because as much as it was tortureous it was also so much fun

you calmed your breathing as you watched the screen, both of them all sweaty and out of breath

boy did they look good

“rock paper scissors!”

they both pulled paper

they tried again and both pulled rock

they tried once again and both pulled paper

“just choose scissors!” you yelled and they both shushed you

they tried and the final winner was miguel with rock because peter chose scissors

“you sneaky fu-“

miguel slipped inside you then took peter’s previous position and started pounding into you as hard as he could

he pressed onto your stomach so it could intensify the pleasure for you and you shut your eyes, letting out the prettiest of moans and cries while he fucked you in such a relentless pace

he was fucking you as if it would be the last and he couldn’t bring himself to slow down because he was feeling so close and he just needed to fill you in front of peter no matter what

“fuck baby- god you’re fucking perfect.” he groans and moves his hand from your face to your jaw to kiss you

you kissed him and somehow that little piece of sweet affection threw you over the edge unexpectedly and you were letting out whimpers into his mouth while he dumped his load inside you, making sure he was as deep as he could be

your body shook and you just let the slow sloppy make out happen as you both came down from your highs meanwhile peter just exploded himself because of course he wasn’t going to run that final lap and just stayed back to watch and jerk off

#miguel ohara #miguel ohara imagine #across the spiderverse #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o hara #miguel ohara oneshot #atsv miguel #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #peter b parker #peter b parker smut #miguel ohara x peter b parker x reader #peter b parker x reader #peter b parker x you #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara smut

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crimsonbubble · 1 year ago

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Dom! Miguel O'Hara and Dom! Peter Parker both sucking f! reader's titties and making her cum untouched and making her brain go dumb dumb 🫢🫢

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, lactation kink, praise, nipple play, double fingering (it'll make sense when you read it) *not proofread, just pure horny

[brain went places... also the original idea was that reader was pregnant but it made little to no differenc so i removed that detail-] reader is married to miguel. peter and mj (shes not mentioned in this fic tho-) are readers and miguels honorary spouses. I just love poly fics <33

MINORS DNI!!

the sounds of your slick cunt being fucked open on two sets of fingers fills your ears and the stuffy air of your bedroom.

the three of you use mayday's nap time as a short break to finally satisfy the curdling need for a pleasurable release. Peter pulled off your nipple with a heaving breath, his fingers curling up deliciously against your good spots.

Miguel pulled off soon after, pushing peters palm further against your clit as he also pushed Peter's fingers into your sweet spot. the pressure made you dizzy, your cunt is swollen and sticky, gushing around their fingers as he nipped and suckled around your leaking breasts.

Miguel kissed along your shoulder, his eyes fixated on how much milk you were leaking and how much your pussy is drooling around their fingers.

"there you go, honey. let it all out, make a mess, c'mon." Peter kissed up your throat, nipping your supple skin with his teeth. you threw your head back against the pillows, your hips stuttering up against their hands.

"need a little more, I'm so fucking close-" your voice is shaky as the pleasure leaves you pliant and ditzy. Miguel presses harder into peters hand and your body shudders. "god you're so fucking gorgeous, mi niña bonita."

Miguel lets out a groan muffled against your neck as he forced Peter's hands to curl up against your spot even more. Peter kisses down your chest, taking your sore and leaky nipple into his mouth again. the warmth of his mouth on your skin, the pressure of both of their hands stuffed into your cunt and pressing into every part of you that makes you writhe, sets you off.

you all but hid your face in the crook of Miguel's neck, biting into him as you were launched headfirst into your blissful orgasm. you don't even want to think about the mess you made of yourself, their hands and the bed, but you can tell it was a lot.

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madschiavelique · 1 year ago

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hii i love your work!

i was wondering if you could write a sensitive fem!reader x Miguel O’Hara x Peter B smut? peter is like a soft dom and miguel is a hard dom?

miguel of course says something a little to mean while fucking her from behind, and she starts to cry and peter is all like “miguel, you made her cry”

thank you 🙏🏼

OMG anon you don't know what this did to me

you just provoked my new addiction : i want to write so much more miguel x reader x peter now i'm OBSESSED (also tumblr was kinda bugging while i tried doing this post so i hope things will be alright fdvfbsef - and this is not proofread :D)

summary : miguel made you cry because he was mean as you were eiffel towered by him and Peter B.

content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, hard dom!miguel o'hara, soft dom!peter b. parker, reader being eiffel towered (i'm french and feeling very patriotic on this one🥖), miguel being a bit too mean, overstimulation, pnv sex, sodomy, no use of Y/N word count : 1,2k

tag list : @fandom-ash

You whimpered once more, your whole body feeling electric and tired at the same time as you sank down shakily. Miguel was behind you, his warm breath landing on your ear as you felt his torso bulge against your back. Peter was facing you, kissing your shoulder as your breasts pressed against his chest.

You couldn't tell the time any more, whether it had been an hour or more that they were fucking you without stopping. Many orgasms had been reached, and your body was floating in this cloud of overstimulation. You were exhausted, at the end of your rope, with barely enough energy to lift your body and sink on both of their dicks buried in you.

Needing to regain your strength and rest both your thighs and your whole body, which had been in orgasmic succession, you rested for a moment, not moving as their two cocks stayed all warm in you.

"Did I say you could stop?" Miguel grunted against your back, his teeth grazing your skin as his hand rested on your thighs and squeezed your flesh between his massive fingers.

You let out a moan, your head falling back to rest in the crook of Miguel's neck.

"I can't," you breathed shakily, "it's too much."

You could feel the electricity coursing through your thighs, your body on fire, absolutely exhausted by the effort that had been required of you from the start.

"Come on sweetheart," Peter encouraged, caressing your cheek as he waited for you to continue. "You can do this."

You inhaled harshly, pressing down on your trembling thighs to rise again and continue. The knot forming in your body stretched from your lower stomach to the small of your back. The overload of sensation was heightening your sensitivity to the limit, both physically and mentally.

Your legs were tired, trying to bury yourself properly on them. One of your hands had found its place on Peter's shoulder, the other holding Miguel's thigh and allowing you to hold on better as you went back and forth.

"Is that the best you can do?" Miguel grumbled against your ear, both your faces covered in a light sheen of sweat.

One of his hands went to your hip, digging his fingers into your skin as he pushed even deeper and you let out a moan. The fatigue was getting hard to handle, all the sensations mixed together, their breaths, their voices, their words...

"If you can't do it right, I'll find someone who can".

This sentence stung you in the chest. All you were doing was trying to do your best for them, to make them feel good and have your share in it too. Were you really that incapable? Were you so incompetent that you didn't do anything for them? Were you really that useless?

"Watch your mouth," Peter warned, not necessarily condoning the crude words his partner had just uttered.

But it was too late, your heart clenched, your throat constricted as a ball formed in it. Your eyes burned, you would have preferred not to cry, but your nose stung so much in your abstinence that you ended up breaking. When the tears came, you lowered your head against Peter's shoulder, and they flowed hard and committed.

"Hey what's that," he said, feeling beads running down his skin that he knew wasn't sweat.

You didn't dare look at them, your hips still moving, your shame and discouragement oppressing your chest.

"Look at me," he asked softly as his hand came to rest on your cheek.

You looked up, your eyes unable to find his. But he placed his index finger like a hook under your chin to raise it, and your wet eyes met his.

"Oh no," he said, mouth half open, "bunny, are you crying?"

You immediately felt Miguel tense up, his hand suddenly much softer against your skin.

"What?" he asked, gently sliding his hand over your jaw in the hope of turning you towards him and seeing your face.

But you pulled away from his touch and buried your face in Peter's shoulder, not feeling strong enough to face Miguel's gaze.

"Miguel, you made her cry," Peter said, stroking your hair gently as Miguel's mouth fell open in surprise.

He hadn't realised the impact words like that could have on you, especially in this context. You had been so good to them, and you still are, their absolute dream. You are perfection itself, and Miguel would obviously never want to replace you with anyone else.

"Muñeca..." he murmured against your back as he came to kiss you tenderly, his hand caressing your hip.

Your tears were still flowing, your back shaking with little jolts of heartache and pleasure.

"Mírame," he asked gently, kissing the back of your neck.

You breathed in, lifting your wet cheeks from Peter's shoulder and turning to meet Miguel's face.

His eyes instantly became pained, pained to have been the one to cause this state. He would never, ever wish for anyone but you. He caressed your cheek, kissing the corner of your eyes and licking your wet skin.

"Please forgive me, amor," he whispered against your skin, "you know I never meant these words, right?"

Your chin trembled and Peter put his hand on your other cheek to wipe it clean.

"You're the only one we want," Miguel assured you, his eyes fixed on yours. "You're the most perfect thing that ever happened to us, and we would never want anybody else than you."

You sniffled, the sweet words he gave you pressing into your heart like a comforting balm. You loved them both so dearly, and it felt good to know that they did too.

"How are you feeling right now?" Peter asked, kissing your cheek softly.

You breathed in, still feeling the exhaustion weighing on your thighs and body.

"Like everything's too much," you managed to whisper, sniffing and swallowing.

"Do you think you can come just once more for us, nena?" Miguel asked, kissing your shoulder gently and stroking your thigh with his thumb.

The knot in your stomach was still tight, and it was almost painful not to get any relief from it.

"Mhm," you nodded as you pushed on your thighs again to raise them up.

Miguel's hands both came to grip your hip to guide you, helping you to sink and rise much more easily and sparing you a little pain in your thighs.

"You're so good for us," Peter breathed, kissing the crook of your neck lovingly, "you're doing such a good job, taking us like that."

Miguel kept pace with your hips, neither urging you on nor slowing you down. Both their warm breaths landed on your skin, whispering sweet, soft words that softened your heart and enveloped it in adoration.

Your moans began to multiply, vibrating in your throat a little more as you finally approached orgasm.

"Come for us, muñeca" encouraged Miguel.

And you came, your whole body shaking as if a bolt of lightning had struck your core and spread seismic waves of pleasure throughout its entirety.

You let your head rest against Miguel's chest, and he kissed your forehead gently.

"I knew you could do it," he whispered.

"You're our angel," Peter confirmed as he kissed your cheek.

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keisobe · 1 year ago

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౨ৎ ‧˚ 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐄𝐁 (𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛. 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 + 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚) ⋮ heavily suggestive. age difference. 18+ reader. cheating. ooc. ⎯ spiderdads love having you as their little intern.

recently receiving a spider watch after a year of your debut as spider-woman in your dimension, you made it your ultimate duty to live up to the expectations of your variant superiors. your forthcoming nature and free time was open to anyone, but you found yourself always being in the radar of peter and miguel.

it would start off with innocent requests.

“hey kid, is it fine if you could grab me some coffee?” peter would smile at your enthusiastic nod and hand you his ‘number one dad’ mug. by now you know peter’s order— steaming hot coffee with powdered creamer.

“kid, transfer these files to sector 3.” miguel wouldn’t even look at you, but you still flashed a grin and began to sprint through the bustling hallway. you also learned he liked the empanadas at the cafeteria.

and in exchange of completed requests, you’ve found yourself looped into their peculiar ways to regard your work.

“good girl.” peter’s voice was hushed and deep as he sweetly patted your head, taking a careful sip of his aromatic coffee with an attractive grin. he left you a little stunned after that, or more so a blushing mess. then you watched him go back into his usual ‘i’m a proud dad’ routine and attend to mayday back in his dimension.

“gracias cari– u-umm i mean thanks… kid.” miguel uncharacteristically fumbles his words as he finally darts his ruby eyes away from the glowing, holographic screens, looking into your eyes with actual acknowledgement of your presence. his gaze was intense, a sense of longing in them. then he abruptly dismisses you, leaving you with a sense of wonder as to what just happened as you exited his lab.

it was always a special occasion when the two of them would be together.

“kiddo, you free?” peter shouted as he waved you down in the midst of you finishing a small errand for jess.

you responded with a firm nod as you sent jess a brief message on your watch. the smile you wore slightly faltered at the sight of a weirdly unreadable miguel beside peter— eyes glittering with a shade of red that you’ve never seen before. it made you feel on edge. nonetheless, you approach the two with a determined glow on your face as you let them lead you with peter filling in the awkward silence with his little quips and sarcastic comments towards miguel.

at this point, you've been working for the spider society for three months now. the teasing remarks from the other spider-people toned down and you’re finally classified as a real agent, exclusively working alongside miguel, jessica, and peter. and even through the fantastic upbringings in your life, something has been eating at you— more correctly, two people have been making your life miserably complicated.

miguel was by far the most interesting person you’ve met. his past takes a toll on him every counting day and the integral goal he based his life around is to never repeat his one mistake. although he’s very calloused and irritable, you admired his ambition and the rare moments his cold demeanor would falter to reveal a huge dork (in no other dimension have you ever seen a grown man get bullied by his own ai). as much as miguel shared a huge part of himself to you, he seemed far more content with being completely alone and devoting his life to a vow he made that day his daughter and an entire universe was wiped from existence.

peter, sarcastic and careless in nature, recently became an attentive father. it was endearing to see, considering the various stories of his depressing upbringing would make your warm lunch turn ice cold and soggy within a minute into his sulky narration (you might’ve avoided spending your lunch breaks with him afterwards). and his rekindling love with mary-jane finally gave him a sense of comfort and relief of a normal, happy family life. peter gave you a sting of hope that things will somehow turn out okay in the end. it made you feel closer to him, until you remembered that he was just sharing some old, adult wisdom to you.

and that was fine with you. you can totally push aside your small crushes for peter and miguel. one was emotionally unavailable and one was in a stable relationship with a beautiful daughter. plus they were your bosses and twice your age. so why? why is that miguel would linger a little longer whenever you announced that you’ll be going back to your dimension? why is that peter’s brown eyes would brighten up whenever you held mayday lovingly in your arms?

it didn’t help when miguel would start to call you endearing pet names with a genuine smile on his face, or when peter would situate you on his lap as he nuzzle his nose into your neck just because ‘it felt comfortable’. this conundrum made you think that you were completely losing your damn mind, that somehow you were looking too deep into the lines. but you concluded it was just all a huge misunderstanding on your part.

yeah, that’s what it was.

“you have to be quiet, okay?”

peter mumbles in the shell of ear as he clumsily discards your tight spider suit in the corner of the room while miguel makes sure that all the doors are sealed shut and locked from prying eyes.

it was normal just a few minutes ago. peter ribbing miguel with his usual dry humor, and miguel ignoring his antics to tick him off while leading you both to what you presumed to be a private conference room to discuss the important matters of anomalies.

but when the three of you nearly approach the door, peter suddenly stops talking. cautiously looking around his surroundings, peter presses himself closer and subtly grinds his hips onto the softness of your ass while miguel’s lingering hand gropes the curve of your tits— his neutral expression completely taunting your shattering composure. this is where your actual conundrum begins.

the room continued to hiss as the electric engines faintly knocked on the metal walls. the dimmed lights that made your very inappropriate circumstances much more intimate than it should be.

the chiseled arch of miguel’s cheekbones brushed the plush skin of your spread thighs, his sharp canines eagerly leaving tender marks that were reserved for only the three of you to look at. each bite and suck left you weakly whimpering his name with growing anticipation.

it was lonely back in your dimension, your bed was cold without another body to warm it up. returning back to an empty apartment would elicit forbidden thoughts— ones that held you in a heated daze until you realize you’re dumbly standing in the middle of the room and shamelessly yearning to open another portal to be in the arms of peter and miguel.

god, this was so wrong.

“aw, do you want more kid?” peter teasingly asks as his stumble scrapes along your jawline, leaving marks of his own along the junction of your neck.

miguel gazed up at your troubled expression, an amused smirk dancing along the swell of your inner thighs.

morals, pay attention to your morals.

you nodded eagerly, a force of habit after attending to the various needs of your superiors, but miguel wouldn’t take that as an answer.

“you have to tell us cariño.” miguel grumbles in between his love bites— crimson eyes glowing under the dull light.

oh well.

“yes! please, i need more.”

peter and miguel muse at your neediness, swiftly changing their positions as they propped you comfortably on a table placed in the middle of the room. you flinched from the chilling contact, but you were immediately warmed up when both men knelt down— each hooking an arm around your quivering legs and indecently displaying you as they spread your limbs. they move like they were on the same wavelength, finally agreeing on one thing.

guilt pinged in your stomach once again when peter’s wedding band brushes against your skin and miguel’s spider watch brightly flashes with pilled voice memos urgently calling for his assistance.

obviously annoyed, miguel hastily pries off the pinging watch and puts it aside while peter eagerly tucks his wedding ring in the pocket of his discarded pink robe. weirdly, their visible desperation to have their attention focused on you filled you with pride.

finally, two pairs of eyes were trained on you, sparkling with a hypnotizing red and a drunken brown. their previous notions left no ounce of guilt, instead it made them hyper focused with lust.

“don’t worry querida,” miguel gruffly murmurs as he snags your underwear with a sharp finger. “peter and i will take good care of you.”

“but don’t tell anyone kiddo.” peter cuts in, a subtle grin on his face but through his playful tone, he was dead serious.

you compliantly nodded.

of course, you won’t tell a single soul.

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murdrdocs · 1 year ago

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Peter b is such a dilf I’ve been saying this since the first movie 🗣️

he’s so experienced dilf who is slightly over cocky, and it’s annoying at times but it’s barely annoying in the bedroom.

because in the bedroom his cockiness creates absolute pleasure for you. he wasn’t the most experienced, but he makes it his mission to learn and memorize your body and your tells.

so he knows where to lick and suck along your skin. he knows how long he needs to kiss down your body and between your thighs to get you dripping and close to whimpering. he knows how to curl his fingers, where to massage, and the exact paces he needs to set to have your legs quivering, and your slick lips moving with pleas to cum.

but that slight inexperience comes to the surface during sex, too. when he looks up, lips wrapped around your clit for a second before he slides his mouth down, the tip of his straight nose prodding against the bud instead.

“‘s that okay? this what you want?” his voice low as he says it. and he looks so good. brown hair messy and hanging over his face in sweat-drenched strands, pink lips glistened and swollen, cheeks flushed with a pinkish-red tint. you end up just staring at him, heaving in gulps of air, eyes wide and filled with lust and love.

he notices how distracted you are, smile spreading to his face, large hands starting to grip at your thighs on the outside, lips puckering to kiss right beside your cunt.

then he asks you again. “you feel good, honey? i’m doing okay?”

this time you hear him, your reply being incredibly responsive with a mix of “yes” and “yeah”s, and your head vigorously nodding to complete it all.

he chuckles, nodding twice, then going back to work.

#yeah.#wrote this while waiting for turtle talk #not the most appropriate time #peter b parker x reader #peter b parker smut #peter b parker x you #peter b parker #spider man: across the spider verse #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader

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joonie-beanie · 1 year ago

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Side-Gig | [Peter B. Parker x Reader]

Pairing: Peter B. Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter gets worried about your apparent “side-gig” and goes snooping, only to discover your side-gig is writing Spiderman smut on commission.

Contents: Fluff, Smut, Consensual Sex, Pussy Eating, Banter, Friends to Lovers???

Author’s Note: I swore off posting fics on tumblr, but since this is just a one-shot, I figured why not. I think Peter B is charming, had to write a lil smth smth for him. And by that, I mean a 7.1k wordcount fic.

You and Peter Parker are friends. Not best friends, but pretty good friends.

You like to say you’ve looked out for each other over the years. You don’t talk all the time, but it’s kind of an unspoken promise that when one of you needs someone to lean on, the other person will be there.

Which is why, when Peter and MJ separate, you make a point of inviting Peter over for meals.

At first, he turns you down every time you ask, and you know it’s because he’s wallowing—depressed about his situation. And that’s understandable. You can’t exactly say you know what he’s feeling, but if you put yourself in his shoes, you’re sure you’d be a little bit fucked up about everything too.

Therefore, you give him a little space—wait for things to settle and for Peter to come around.

Except, Peter takes it all way worse than you expect—going radio silent after your third invite in two months. Then, you really start to get worried (and also a little mad that he’s ghosting you).

So, you manage to scrounge up his new address using some internet-sleuthing skills, and show up at his door. When he opens it, he’s dressed in a greasy wife-beater, worn-out gray sweats, and white socks with a hole in the toe.

“Jesus Christ, Peter.”

You spend that evening scolding Peter and letting him cry it all out—handing him tissue after tissue as he blubbers about everything on his mind. When he’s finally done, he apologizes for ignoring your last call, and thanks you for looking out for him.

With a smile, you assure him you’ll always have his back, and that now he really has to come over for dinner, because he owes you.

Laughing, Peter agrees. And luckily, he sticks to his word.

Since then, you and Peter make a point of doing dinner twice a month—typically at your place, sometimes out at a restaurant, but never at Peter’s. Not until he deep cleans his messy apartment, and you know that won’t be happening anytime soon.

Tonight, you’re at a restaurant of your choice—a local Italian joint. Peter arrives late, per normal, and you wave him over when you see him walk in the front door. He immediately spots you and hurries over, his eyes darting to the plate of bruschetta you’d ordered for the table, that now only has two pieces left.

“Aw, that’s not fair,” he says, sliding into the booth across from you. He immediately reaches for one, shoving it into his mouth. You shrug, not sorry.

“That’s what you get for always being late. And if I waited for you, I’d be hangry by now. So really, you should be thanking me.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter says with a roll of his eyes, picking up the menu to see what it is he wants.

“So, how have you been? I know we just saw each other two weeks ago, but—how’s work?”

You sigh at Peter’s question, resting your chin against your palm.

“Fine, I guess. Work is cutting hours since things are slow right now, so I’m gonna be pretty strapped for cash the next month or two.”

Peter blinks at your response, staring at you over the edge of the menu.

“Should we be here then? We could just get the check now and go down the street to the bodega—”

“No—no, it’s fine,” you reassure him, taking a sip from your glass. From the look of it, Peter can tell the glass is filled with rum and coke—your simple, yet timeless go-to.

“This is kind of my last hurrah, y’know? Gotta get one last plate of carbonara in before I’m eating ramen and eggs for the next few months.”

“I dunno about that,” Peter responds. “Eggs are pretty expensive now—you might have to settle for canned tuna.”

You roll your eyes at him, yet can’t help the little giggle that escapes you.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know,” he says with a smile.

The waitress wanders back over, and you and Peter put in your orders. Peter also opts to get a drink (after all, if you’re drinking, why shouldn’t he), and a few minutes later, a cosmopolitan is placed onto the table in front of him.

You watch him with a wide smile as he picks up the girly drink and takes a long sip—his pinky sticking out and everything.

“You and your love of sweet drinks,” you say, swirling around the ice in your half-empty glass. Peter hums happily.

“Listen, this is way better than beer.”

Honestly, you can’t disagree.

“So,” he continues, picking up the previous topic. “Are you gonna be okay? Money-wise?”

It’s not like he has much help to offer. Being a masked vigilante doesn’t pay very well, after all, but still.

“Yeah,” you assure him. “I have a side-gig that brings in a little cash-flow, so that’ll help cushion the blow. But I think I should still be able to afford rent and some groceries. I’ll just have to budget better, y’know?”

Peter nods. “Oh, okay. Good—,” but then his brain repeats the phrase “side-gig”, and his words cut off.

“Wait, what kind of side-gig are we talking about here?”

Despite how long the two of you have known each other, Peter has never heard anything about any kind of “side-gig”. It’s a little concerning, honestly, since the two of you don’t really keep secrets from each other.

Although it’s not like you know he’s Spiderman.

“Yeah. It’s nothing illegal, I promise,” you tell him, your attitude remaining pleasant. Peter stares at you, waiting for you to say more, but your smile only grows wider.

“Not telling,” you say, laughing quietly to yourself when Peter huffs in annoyance and grabs his drink. “You’ll just have to trust me. I’d never do anything illegal—you know me.”

“I dunno,” he responds, a playful lilt in his tone. “In college I seem to remember you stealing soft drinks from the mess hall without paying—”

“Oh c’mon,” you shoot back, and Peter grins, knowing you hate when he brings that up. “We were already paying to go to classes! Why should I pay 3 dollars for a cup of watered down coke?!”

Peter laughs as you go on a mini tangent about how college is a ripoff—ordering both you and him two more drinks when your waitress stops in to check on your table.

After a short while, your food comes out, and the two of you catch up over the hot meal. Conversation flows like normal—touching on any other life updates, and also local news topics, and things of the like.

At your insistence, Peter splits a tiramisu with you to close out the evening, and by the time the dessert is gone, Peter thinks he may explode.

“Ugh, why did I let you talk me into that?” Peter groans, curling over and holding his stomach as you fetch enough cash from his wallet to cover half the bill.

“Well, if you were smart like me, you would have kept half of your entree to take home with you for later, and then you would have had enough room left for dessert. Which, by the way, is too good to waste—so don’t puke it up.”

Your waitress swings by to grab the bill, and you assure her it’s all set—passing her the small stack of money taken from both your and Peter’s wallets. She thanks you with a smile, and then scurries away, leaving the two of you alone.

You reach over the table, patting Peter’s shoulder.

“You’ll be fine. Your stomachs gotten bigger, after all.”

“Hey—,” Peter frowns, lifting his head. You’re already grabbing your purse and takeout box—sliding out of the booth. He quickly follows after you.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No,” you respond, holding the door open for him as the two of you step out into the cool New York air. “You’re actually still surprisingly in-shape for someone whose diet consists of pizza and frozen meals. But, that being said, you can’t deny you’ve put on a few pounds.”

Peter places a hand on his stomach.

“Remind me again why you’re so mean to me?”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound getting lost in the crowd around you.

“You just make it too easy,” you admit, grinning up at him. Despite himself, Peter smiles back.

Being the gentleman that he is, Peter fully intends to escort you back to the doorstep of your apartment building, but—

His spidey senses tingle, and he can tell something is off.

“Hey, um,” Peter grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. Before your brain can even catch up, he’s yanking you into a quick hug, and then backpedaling towards the alleyway the two of you had just passed.

“Sorry, I just remembered there’s something I have to do. It was nice seeing you! Let’s touch base soon!”

He’s gone before you can even get a word out, disappearing around the corner. You stare after him for a moment, befuddled, and then continue on your way with a sigh.

Same ‘ol Peter.

Exactly one hour later, Peter collapses in a pile of trash—his lungs heaving, and body aching. The fight itself hadn’t been that hard—just a few wannabe criminals with deadlier than normal weapons.

No, the real challenge had been not barfing up his dinner while doing acrobatics across the city.

And maybe laying in a pile of trash to take a breather isn’t exactly helping his current predicament, but fuck—he doesn’t have the energy to move right now

Spreading out his limbs, Peter stares up at the smog-coated night sky, his mind wandering. He thinks about a lot of things—all the villains he’s fought in his time as Spiderman, the people who have come in and out of his life during it all, including you. You…who apparently has a “side-gig”.

…but like, what kind of side-gig?

Peter groans, knowing he won’t be able to let this go.

You can’t just drop the knowledge that you have a secret side-gig on him and then not tell him what it is!

And if you’re insistent on keeping it a secret, it must be something bad, right? RIGHT??

“Goddammit,” he grumbles, picking himself up. He swings off into the night, his mind reeling.

Peter lasts all of 3-days before he decides he can’t be left alone with his thoughts anymore—that he just needs to confirm what exactly your side-gig is, before his theories can get any wilder.

Because so far, his top guesses are that you’re either 1. Unknowingly acting as a middle man for some illegal trafficking operation, or 2. Providing “services” to New York sleazebags to get in their wallets.

And Peter knows it’s likely neither option—you’re too smart to get roped into something stupid. Plus, you had assured him it was nothing illegal.

But if he doesn’t figure it out, he thinks he may explode.

So…he goes snooping.

It’s not his brightest moment—using the spare key you had given him “in case of emergency” to sneak into your apartment one evening. (But to be fair, to him…this might just be an emergency).

He’d used his spidey senses to scope out your apartment before coming in, so he knows you're not home. Which is good, but…he doesn’t know when you’re gonna be back either, so he has to move fast.

Softly closing the front door behind him, Peter tip-toes across your apartment, deciding to start in your bedroom. He stands in the doorway for a moment, guilt bubbling up inside of him, but he decides to push forward anyway.

He’s just making sure you’re okay, he tells himself. You’re one of his closest friends, and you won’t tell him your secret—so it’s understandable he’d be worried.

Like the true Sherlock that he is, Peter starts with you dressers. He quickly checks each drawer—gently lifting up the stacks of clothes to make sure nothing is hidden beneath them. (The only time doesn’t is when he encounters the drawer with your bras and panties. He simply stares at them with flushed cheeks, rocking awkwardly on his heels, before he quietly closes the drawer. Surely nothing would be in there anyway, right?)

The small stack of papers on your nightstand ends up being recent receipts, and a manual on how to use the white noise machine you've apparently just purchased, considering it's sitting on the floor beside your nightstand, still in the box.

Getting on his hands and knees, Peter does a quick check under your bed, and freezes when he spots a covered box. He pulls it out without thinking, tugging off the fabric lined lid—

—and immediately slams it back down.

…veiny, pink, silicon—

Peter haphazardly pushes the box back under the bed, hurrying to his feet. He bustles into the kitchen with cherry-colored ears.

All-in-all, it takes Peter about half an hour to search your apartment, and unfortunately…he comes up empty handed. It seems like you have nothing to hide (except a box of sex toys under your bed, but Peter thinks that’s pretty understandable. You don't want dumb assholes like him accidentally finding it, even though Peter had—)

Sighing, Peter takes one last glance around your apartment.

“Ugh, I shouldn’t have done this,” he sighs to himself, taking a step towards the door. But—not watching where he’s going, he stubs his toe into the leg of your coffee table.

A curse leaves his lips, and your opened laptop—which had previously been dark—jolts to life. Kicking the table must have moved your wireless mouse, Peter realizes.

Having already decided to leave, Peter fully intends to continue on his way. That is…before he takes a glance at your computer screen and sees that you have it open to a Google doc titled: “Spiderman x Reader Commission #6”.

…then, he’s scrambling onto your couch and yanking your laptop towards him.

“Number six??” he hisses dramatically, his eyes scanning over the document so fast that he doesn’t actually end up reading anything.

He has to pause and go back to try again, but the second Peter reads the sentence “Spiderman’s cock strains painfully against the tight confines of his suit, his fingers twitching against your waist as he drags you in closer”, his brain effectively blue screens.

In a panic, he clicks into a different tab that’s open—landing on your email inbox, where a thread sits open. A transaction between you and an apparent “customer”. Someone who had contacted you in regards to your open “commissions”.

Hi there!

I saw you’re accepting commissions, and I really enjoyed reading the other Spiderman fics you wrote! Would you be open to writing one for me? Preferably a Reader x Spiderman, and a smut/fluff genre. Based on the rate sheet, I think I can afford it, but I’d appreciate it if we could talk more and discuss the final price based on the idea I have.

Thanks!

Holy shit, Peter realizes. Your side-gig is writing Spiderman porn on commission.

He sinks back into the couch, his mind whirling.

How long has this been going on?? Do you…are you attracted to Spiderman?? As long as Peter has known you, you’ve never really fangirled over Spiderman. If Spiderman had popped up in the news, the two of you would talk about him, but…that was it.

And now you’re writing Spiderman smut for cash? Holy hell.

Peter supposes he should be relieved that what you’re doing truly isn’t illegal. That you’re just making money in a mostly innocent way, from the safety of your home. Meaning, Peter can call it quits, and leave.

…but instead, he leans forward, clicks back onto the Google doc tab, and starts reading more.

The document is still a work-in-progress, but Peter scrolls back up to the top, wanting to see how you’ve managed to set up this scenario.

As it turns out, a villain had injected Spiderman with some sort of aphrodisiac, and the reader is a bystander, bravely offering Spiderman her services to get him out of this pickle.

While embarrassing to admit, Peter gets sucked into the story—impressed by your ability to write, and your portrayal of him—err, Spiderman. In fact, he gets so distracted by the story and the multitude of thoughts running through his head that his spidey senses don’t kick in until danger is right on his doorstep.

Or, in reality, you are on your doorstep—your key shoving into the lock on the door.

Peter’s heart nearly rockets out of his chest, his eyes darting to the window across the room. It’s closed, and even if he used his web shooter to rocket over to it, he wouldn’t be able to safely open the window and escape outside in the two seconds it’s going to take you to finish unlocking your do—

Before he can even finish the thought, your front door shoves open, and you flick on the lights—your gaze immediately finding Peter, who is still firmly planted on your couch, looking like a deer in headlights.

You stare at him in shock.

“Peter? What…? Why are you here?”

“I was…worried about you,” Peter responds, forcing himself to smile. And it’s not like it’s a lie.

“You said you were strapped for cash, and I…I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

You kick the door shut behind you, your purse and keys discarded on the small table beside your entryway.

“I thought I told you to just trust me?”

You face him with a hand posed sternly on your hip. You appreciate his concern for you, but it’s a little upsetting that he hadn’t just been able to trust your word.

“I know,” Peter responds with a sigh. He runs a hand through his graying hair, and your gaze flits to his ears, noticing how red they are. Why is he so flushed?

“And I’m sorry. I’m dumb, I should have. Trusted you, I mean. I’ll just—,” he pushes himself up, planning to excuse himself and run, but freezes half way to his feet.

He’s half hard. Fuck.

If he gets up now, it’ll be a lot harder to hide that—especially since he’s wearing sweatpants.

Making a lil noise, Peter eases himself back down onto your couch. You cock an eyebrow.

“...you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry…back spasm.”

“Well, you don’t have to rush out. You’re welcome to stay for a while if you don’t have anywhere to be.”

You flash him a smile and turn towards the kitchen. Peter watches you as you open your fridge and bend down—fetching two bottles of water from the bottom shelf. His eyes glue to your ass the second you lean over, and Peter punches himself in the knee—forcing his gaze up towards the ceiling.

He’s going fucking insane. He’s not used to being this…feral feeling. Arousal is usually one of the emotions that evades him nowadays, but here he is—done in by fucking Spiderman fanfiction.

Who knew he’d get turned on reading about himself fucking some nameless woman? And who knew that arousal would make him thirst after you?

(Honestly, if he thinks about it, it’s not that surprising. The two of you have been friends for years, and he feels comfortable around you. Not to mention, you’ve always been attractive, even if you do like to push his buttons—)

“Here,” you say, snapping him out of his internal panic. You plop down onto the couch next to him, handing him one of the two bottles of water.

Peter reaches out to take it, and you notice the sweat beading on his brow. Why the hell is he—?

At that moment, you spot your laptop on the coffee table—open, and still showing the commission document you’d left open earlier on. Your first instinct is to reach over and slam your laptop shut before Peter can see—

…wait.

Peter reaches forward to take the water bottle from your grasp, but when he grips it, you don’t budge.

Confused, he looks up—only to find you intensely staring at him.

“Did you read it…?”

Peter’s face heats up, his eyes darting to the side to avoid looking at you.

Busted…

You pulse races, embarrassment blooming in your chest.

HE DID, you realize. HE READ IT. Your fucking Spiderman smut!

“Ah, shit…,” you mumble, letting go of his water bottle and crumpling in on yourself. You curl onto your side, hiding your face in the couch cushion.

Feeling horrible that he has embarrassed you—having discovered something you’d tried to keep private—Peter hurries to try and smooth over the situation.

“Okay, yes, I did read it,” he starts by saying. “But…it was…really good! You’re a good writer, and I can see why people are commissioning you! You’ll surely make some cash with the skill you have.”

If he was smart, he’d have stopped there, but no—Peter keeps going.

“A-And hey! I’d be willing to help too. Y’know, help give you some inspiration for your stories—”

His voice dies in his throat, realizing what it is he has just offered. And obviously, you realize it too—your head immediately lifting, staring at him with curious surprise.

“Did you just…offer…to fuck? To help me with my stories?”

The insinuation is so insane that you can’t help laughing. Peter coughs, straightening his shoulders out.

“I think I’d be very good inspiration for Spiderman.”

“Really?”

There’s disbelief in your voice. Peter narrows his eyes.

“You don’t think so?”

You hum, uncapping your water bottle and taking a swig. Peter mirrors you, his throat feeling dry.

“Spiderman is…suave and heroic, and you’re…dorky. Smart, but dorky.”

Peter frowns. “I can be…suave.”

You cock an eyebrow, a playful grin breaking out on your face. Your heart is racing a million miles an hour, because never did you think you’d be sitting here with Peter, the possibility of sex between the two of you suddenly laid out on the table. You’d never deny he’s an attractive male, and maybe because it’s him, and because you’ve missed the feel of another human being, you end up saying—

“Yeah? Show me then.”

You lean back, waiting to see if Peter will make a move.

Unfortunately, the realization that you’re open to whatever is happening right now causes Peter’s brain to stall, and he takes a second too long to act—just long enough to allow doubt to worm its way into your head.

You’re putting him on the spot. And he’s still probably dealing with some complicated feelings from the split—you shouldn’t have poked him.

Without saying anything, you decide to try and create some space. You push off of the couch, padding towards your bedroom. You’ll make an excuse about needing to fold your clothes, or something stupid—and hopefully Peter will take what you’ve said as a joke, and will move on. Yeah, that sounds like a solid plan—

Pausing in the doorway of your room, you force yourself to smile, and turn to face Peter—only to find that he’d snuck up on you—your gaze meeting his chest the second you turn around.

“Pe—,” you’re only able to get the first syllable of his name out, your chin tilting back as you look up at him. The feeling of his palm cupping your cheek is what makes your voice die out, his chestnut eyes boring into you.

You can see the hesitation on his face. A certain lack of confidence that you’re sure stems from his past relationship issues. But beneath that, you can see desire. A craving for intimacy he hasn’t shared in a long time.

You decide to be the one to close the gap—pressing onto your toes, your palm resting flat on his pec as you lean upward—connecting your lips with his. You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips, and you silently convince yourself that if Peter backs out, you’ll be fine with it.

Luckily, he doesn’t. His brain finally kicks into gear, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist as he kisses you back.

You make a pleasantly surprised little sound, your arms lifting to wrap around his neck—effectively deepening the kiss. A wrinkle appears between Peter’s eyebrows, his grip on your waist tightening. Your chest presses flat against his torso, and he rubs his thumb against your cheek, obsessed with the plushness of your lips and the feel of you against him.

It’s been way too long since he’s been intimate like this…that’s apparent by the blood absolutely rockets into his dick.

Although, to be fair, he’d already been half-hard before this.

“You think our local hero gets hard this quick?” you mumble against his lips with a grin, giggling when Peter makes a noise of annoyance and nips at you.

“You’d be surprised,” he responds. He slots his thigh between your knees, backing you into the doorframe. His clothed cock grinds against your stomach, trapped between your bodies, and his muscles tense.

“Adrenaline can go straight to the dick sometimes…”

(Peter has lost track of how many times, after an intense fight—especially earlier in his career—he’d swung home and immediately jerked off).

“That’s fair, I suppose.”

Your fingertips coast up the nape of his neck, tangling in the messy hair at the base of his skull. You yank him downward ever so slightly, your lips connecting with the skin of his neck. He immediately shivers, the first of many embarrassing sounds ripping from his chest as you lick and suck at his flesh.

“Think Spiderman whimpers?”

You’re teasing him. As to be expected, given the dynamic of your relationship. But Peter doesn’t intend on taking it quietly.

“Maybe,” he admits, “If you make him feel good enough. But if you wanna know what I think—”

Peter surprises you by ducking down—his arms looping around your thighs as he lifts you off the floor. Your squeal, arms and legs instinctively wrapping around him since you don’t want to fall, but Peter carries you easily enough—striding into your room and depositing you onto your bed.

He doesn’t waste any time—quickly caging you down. His knee reclaims its spot between your thighs, rubbing incessantly at the dampening fabric covering your privates, and his lips find your neck—a shiver raking up your spine as his stubble scratches against your skin.

“Peter,” you gasp when his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingertips ghost over your heated skin, brushing past your waist, and finding the clasp of your bra. You have to arch to give him room to work, and Peter sucks a hickey of approval into your neck. He debates telling you “good girl”, but the thought leaves him the second your bra pops open.

He needs your tits in his mouth.

“—I think Spiderman has a thing for boobs,” Peter says, finally finishing his earlier statement. This exclamation is followed with the immediate removal of your shirt and bra—Peter forcibly tugging them over your head and discarding them on the floor beside your bed.

The sight of Peter groping you and lowering his mouth to your chest is enough to have your heart skipping a beat, and you can’t help the mewl that leaves you when Peter sucks one of your nipples into his mouth.

Peter groans when your fingers fist in his hair, practically keeping his mouth trapped where it is, which he hardly minds considering he intends to lick and suck at your tits until you’re panting.

And, that’s exactly what he does.

He lavishes your chest with his mouth—relishing in the way your hips jump at each little nip of his teeth or roll of your nipple between his fingers. It’s embarrassing, honestly, how wet it gets you—your panties feeling quite wet as you continue grinding your pussy against Peter’s thigh.

You try and think of some smart response in regard to Peter’s opinion that Spiderman is a tit man, not an ass man, but words seem to be avoiding you. You can’t think of anything coherently when Peter is touching you like this. Especially when his face finally leaves your chest, his lips peppering kisses down the length of your torso.

You lift your head to look at him, propping up on one of your arms. Peter reaches your navel, but doesn’t stop, heading towards—

“Peter,” you pant, your face flushing hotly as you realize the path he’s carving.

Peter hums, his eyes flitting up and meeting your gaze just as he hooks his thumbs beneath the band of your pants.

“Another thing about Spiderman…,” he begins, kissing the skin of your tummy as he inches your waistband down your hips. You watch him with blown-wide eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly—excitement and nervousness mingling inside of you.

You lift your ass off the mattress to help him shuck you of your bottoms, and Peter smiles, tossing your pants on the floor beside your other clothes.

Never in your life did you imagine the sight of Peter sinking to his knees, his hands gripping your hips and dragging you closer to him—his gaze falling between your legs. Your panties are soaked, and the sight causes more blood to rush into his dick. He’s so hard that it honestly hurts—just a little bit—but Peter still doesn’t touch himself, because—

“...Spiderman loves eating pussy.”

“He’s a people-pleaser,” you quip breathlessly, your thighs quivering in Peter’s hold when he presses a kiss to your skin, right beside your panty line. He quietly chuckles.

“Maybe.”

Peter thumbs at your clit through your panties, relishing in the whine he rips from your throat. You hips buck in his hold, craving more, and when Peter sees the desperate look on your face, he decides to not tease you.

Peeling your panties to the side, Peter finally connects his mouth with your pussy—his tongue licking a wet, broad strip between your folds.

Oh, shit, you think to yourself, the muscles in your abdomen convulsing as you watch one of your closest friends eat you out. The whole situation is making you feel light headed, so you can’t help it when you collapse back onto the mattress, your fingers fisting in the sheets as Peter groans into your cunt.

He eats you like a man starved, his face quickly becoming covered with your arousal. His nose bumps against your clit as his tongue sinks between your walls, and you full out whimper—your hips needily grinding against his mouth.

Peter’s palm presses down on your pelvis, forcing your hips to the mattress. He doesn’t want you squirming—just wants you desperate and pliant. To see you cumming on his tongue.

His name falls from your lips again, more debauched than he’s ever heard, and Peter curses.

“Shit.”

His tone is guttural, and sexy, and—

He presses a finger inside of you.

“Oh, fuck, Pete—,” his name deterorates into a moan, your brain function declining as Peter begins fucking his finger inside of you. At the same time, he focuses his mouth on your clit, his tongue urgently flicking against the bundle of nerves.

You unconsciously wriggle at the assault of stimulation, but Peter’s hand on your stomach keeps you in place.

Why is he so strong? You think to yourself, moan ripping from your chest as Peter slips in a second finger. It doesn’t take him long to locate that spongy little sweet spot inside of you. The one that causes your thighs to shake as he practically abuses it—rubbing the pads of his fingers against it repeatedly until you’re nearly sobbing.

The coil in your belly winds tight, heat searing your veins. You can feel your clit throbbing against Peter’s tongue, and the walls of your pussy tightening up around him.

“Peter,” you cry, your entire body trembling. You’re so fucking close.

“Cum,” he rasps. He needs to see you orgasm—needs to feel you unraveling on his mouth and fingers.

Hearing the gravel of his voice is the final nail in your coffin—the tension in your muscles releasing as your orgasm washes over you. Just as he wanted, you cum all over him, your cunt gushing arousal around his fingers as his tongue continues lapping at your clit, dragging out the waves of your pleasure until you’re panting and pawing at his head, trying to push him away.

After a moment, he relents—sitting back to look at you.

You’re covered in a sheen of sweat, your chest heaving, and an arm draped over your eyes. Your tits are peppered with an array of hickies, and Peter feels his chest (and cock) swell with pride. He’s clearly done a number on you. And yet…

You feel the mattress dip, and then the room is spinning around you. When things finally settle, you find yourself laying on top of Peter.

He has one arm wrapped around your waist, his palm resting on your ass. The other brushes a few stray strands of hair out of your face when you lean back to look at him.

“Spiderman also loves being ridden,” he says with a grin. You place your hands on his chest, feeling it rumble with laughter as he watches you struggle to sit up.

“You think I have the energy to ride you after you just did that? And why do you keep saying Spiderman enjoys these things like they’re facts—you don’t know.”

“Just a feeling,” he responds, licking his lips. His hands find your hips, and he grinds you downwards. Your sensitive pussy rubs against his aching length, still trapped behind his sweatpants, and it’s hard to miss the way Peter harshly swallows at the feeling.

You sigh, scooting backwards.

“Fine.”

You shove his sweats and boxers down his thighs, careful to not snag them on his dick. And damn, he really must be aching—a sticky string of precum dripping from the head of his cock, and pooling on his abdomen.

He opens his mouth, but you don’t give him the chance to say anything. Your fingers wrap around his cock, smearing his arousal across his length, and whatever Peter had been planning to say crumbles into a needy garble of non-words.

You can’t help but smile at the sound.

“Surprised you didn’t cream your pants already,” you tell him, but your tone is hardly teasing. No, seeing him beneath you like this—the muscles in his torso clenching with every stroke of your hand—it’s actually quite endearing.

“I’ll cum in your hand if you keep doing that,” he pants, glancing into your eyes. You spot nothing but lust there, any previous reservations gone.

“Is that so bad?” you ask, thumbing at the head of his cock. Peter’s grip on your waist tightens, and you hear him take a shaky breath.

“Yes.”

He wants to be inside you, that much is clear. And while it’d be so easy to draw it out and make him beg…you don’t feel like being mean to him. Not tonight, after he’d just given you the best oral of your life.

“Fine,” you relinquish. You scoot forward, planting one hand on his chest, and gripping the base of his cock with the other. Peter’s breath catches when you rub the head of his cock between your folds, a heady groan following a beat later as you begin sinking down onto him.

By the time his cock is fully inside of you, your thighs are shaking. Whether from the lack of energy due to your previous orgasm, the remarkable size of Peter inside of you, or both—you’re not totally sure.

“There’s no rush,” Peter reassures you, but the needy warble of his voice betrays his words.

“My legs might give out at some point,” you respond with a breathless laugh, and Peter echos you, giving your waist a squeeze.

“That’s fine. I’ll help.”

With your palms planted firmly on his chest, you begin to ride him.

And god, you feel so fucking good.

“Fuck,” Peter bites out, watching the space between your bodies, where his cock disappears inside of you with every roll of your hips. It’s been ages since a cunt has squeezed his dick like this, and honestly, he can see himself very easily getting addicted to the feel of you.

The bounce of your tits as you ride him, the cute little sounds you make when his cock rubs against the sensitive spots inside you—he feels like he’s going crazy.

“Peter,” you whine, your pace flattering. Having his cock inside of you is incomparable to the feeling of his fingers, and very quickly, you can feel another orgasm building, but…the closer you get, the more your strength falters.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he responds, praises falling from his lips. “You’re doing so good. You feel so good.”

His words cause your walls to clench around him, and he groans—his hands sliding down to your hips as he helps rock you down onto his cock. The sloppy sound of sex fills your bedroom, and you watch Peter with half-lidded eyes, soaking up the desperation showing on his face.

His hair is slicked back with sweat, brows pinched together in concentration as he forces you to continue riding him. At least, until he starts craving more.

With his orgasm quickly approaching—despite the immense pleasure he gains seeing you bouncing on top of him—Peter’s hunger gets the best of him.

He grabs your wrists, moves your arms so they’re wrapped around his shoulders, and then secures his arms around your back. Before you can even digest the slight change in position, Peter is fucking you.

An incoherent string of noise slips past your lips, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as his cock pistons inside of you. With his arms trapping you against his chest, you’re helpless but to take it—your orgasm rushing to the surface at the desperate yet brutal pace that Peter sets.

“Peter,” you sob into his neck.

“It’s okay,” he responds without missing a beat, his voice breathless. “I’m right there. Cum for me again, sweetheart.”

As if you could stop.

Holding onto him for dear life, you cum for the second time that night—your walls clamping down on his cock so tightly that Peter’s rhythm falters. A curse rips from his throat, and his hands find the plush of your ass—stuffing your body down onto his dick as he cums along with you—pumping you full of his seed.

The needy tension of the room melts away, and you and Peter can only lay there—a pile of sweaty yet sated flesh. It takes you both a minute to catch your breaths, and you make a quiet noise of disappointment when Peter’s cock slips out of you.

You can feel his cum running out of your pussy.

“Your balls aren’t dried up yet?”

Peter’s chest rumbles beneath you.

“I’m in my 30’s, not my 60’s.”

You glance up at him when you feel Peter’s fingers clearing the hair away from your face, and he smiles at you. Your heart jumps.

He must know how handsome he is, right? Even with that crooked nose of his.

“Don’t you ever get tired of taking cracks at me?” he wonders, using his grip on your ass to slide you farther up his chest. You giggle, cupping his cheeks as you find yourself suddenly face to face with him.

“Mmmm, no?”

He rolls his eyes, yet his smile widens. You lean down to kiss him, and he reciprocates easily enough.

“Feeling good?” you ask him, carding your fingers through his hair. He nods.

“Very. I…really missed that.”

“Same,” you agree, sitting back. You need to get to the bathroom before any cum gets on your nice sheets. You crawl off of Peter, swinging your legs over the side of your mattress. He rolls onto his side, watching you with furrowed brows as he tucks his dick back into his pants.

“Same? You haven’t—?”

“Not in a while,” you admit, pulling a fresh shirt and a pair of panties from your dresser drawers. You’re about to make a joke that the only action you’ve gotten recently is from the toys stashed under your bed, but when you turn to look at the spot where they’re hidden, you find that…the box has moved. It’s not where you had left it.

“Did you…find my sex toys? Before I came home?”

Peter’s face goes carefully blank, but the red flush of his ears betrays him.

You shoot him a glare, leaving your room with a huff.

“Dude doesn’t trust me…how fucking rude…”

“Hey now—!”

Peter’s feet pound against the floor as he chases after you, and he catches you around the waist just before you make it into your bathroom. His lips press against the crown of your head.

“Again, I’m sorry for snooping. I’m dumb.”

You sigh, wriggling around to face him.

“You are,” you agree, lightly patting his chest. “Dumb, and insistent that Spider man loves tits, eating pussy, and getting ridden. Still holding those beliefs?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Peter grins. “And I have other beliefs about his preferences as well.”

“Of course you do,” you laugh. You kiss his cheek, and then step out of his hold—heading into the bathroom.

“I’m going to shower,” you tell him. “There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you want any.”

Peter nods, and the last thing you see is him heading for your fridge when you close the bathroom door.

30 minutes later, you exit your steaming bathroom in your fresh oversized t-shirt and panties, fully expecting to find Peter lounging around your apartment, eating all your food. But…to your utter disappointment, you don’t spot him anywhere.

You sigh, shoulders sagging. Had it been too much to assume he would have wanted to stay the night?

Shuffling into your kitchen, you spot an empty plate on your table. One that you know had previously been piled high with leftover chicken and potatoes.

“He eats my food and runs off…of course,” you mumble, picking up the plate to put it in the sink. However, before your annoyance can truly get the better of you, a piece of paper that had been stuck to the bottom of the plate floats to the ground.

You bend over to pick it up.

Hey!

Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to stay so long, so I left my apartment earlier without locking the door. I’m running back home to lock it, but I should be back at your place by 9!

Don’t get mad at me. I’d never run off without a word :p

-PB

PS. I have a working theory that Spiderman also has more stamina than you’d expect, even for a guy who’s been doing hero work for 20+ years, so…round two when I get back?

You can’t help but laugh.

What an idiot.

But…you like him.

#peter b parker x reader #peter b parker smut #peter b parker #i can't believe I'm posting this on tumblr #immediately going back to only posting on AO3 bc it's so much easier to format LMAO #fic #reader insert #reader x peter b parker #peter b parker x you #peter b parker x y/n

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frenziedslashers · 1 year ago

Note

Hi there! I would like a request a OS about Peter B Parker x Fem! Reader as a married couple Smut (Reader is Mayday's mother). The Reader is like Starfire (An alien superheroine and a beautiful hot like fire (literally, since her powers comes from the sun) person married to a human) Like Malewife and Girlboss...So when Peter comes home, she's taking care of her daughter meanwhile he was on patrol, so she put her daughter on bed time. She wants to have a night of "fun" with her husband. Taking good care of him with a bath and a dinner so then the "fun" can come. With a purple robe and a sexy lavender lingerie. I can leave the smut part to you with some recommendations Lactation Kink, Praise kink, "Mommy" kink, Oral (Female and male receiving), Creampie, maybe 69 position...

Take good care 🥰

Early Nights Off;;

A/N: Dude, I am literally blowing you kisses and hugging you platonically through my laptop rn. I was smiling and kicking my feet when I saw that you nearly instantly sent me a request for Peter. I am so in love with him, I love my silly goofy DILFs hehe. I have never written for a lactation kink before so I will not be doing that as I do not know how and Idk how comfortable I am with it LMAO I will try and interoperate the rest into this for you though. Thank you again, literally my savior for my brain rot rn. HE IS SO MALEWIFE THOUGH, YOU ARE SO REAL. I hope this is good enough, this is my first Peter fic haha.

Warnings: Breeding Kink (I just know he has one after Mayday.), Praise Kink, "Mommy" Kink sort of?, Oral (F and M Receiving), Creampie (Wrap it before you tap it guys), Reader is an alien (Not proofread, sorry lmao)

Any other day it would be easy for Peter to patrol the city all night. Even if the crime activity was little to nothing. He could spend all day and night swinging from building to building. It beat sitting at home with nothing to do.

Except now he had a reason to be home. Even before the two of you had Mayday, and it was just you. He found himself crawling through the window of your shared apartment earlier and earlier each night. You were his weakness, and he was never ashamed to admit it.

After you gave him his first kid though. There were some nights that he wouldn't go out at all. Too enraptured by baby Mayday to even think about leaving your cozy home. Playing with the baby. Watching you nurture and care for her. Being a dad was something he enjoyed a lot more than he ever thought he would. He had Miles to thank for breaking his fear of kids.

Tonight was one of his early nights. Calling it quits after all he found for crime activity was a man robbing a woman of her purse. Cliché and typical, but he put a stop to it nonetheless. Getting the woman's purse back while also tying the attacker up in front of the New York Police Department with a letter attached to him.

'Caught him robbing a lady, you're welcome. - Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.'

He wondered if they ever actually took in and charged the people he left on their doorstep like that. Or if they simply untied them and let them run because they had no proof they actually did anything wrong? That was a question for another time, though. Right now he was focused on opening the bedroom window. Crawling in and shutting it behind him to keep the muggy air outside from entering the room.

He was quick to take the suit off. Figuring he wouldn't need it for the rest of the night. Pulling a grey shirt on that hung on the side of the bed. Keeping only his boxers on to allow his body to cool down from the warmer conditions outside.

You were in the living room. Comfortable pajamas on while you lulled Mayday to sleep in your arms. A soft hum leaving your throat as you rocked her back and forth. He had to stop and watch for a while. Leaning against the door frame that led him from your shared room to the living room.

"You're back early," you cooed. At times he wished you didn't have the ability to sense him like he could you. It was nice sometimes, though. Not at times that he wanted to just sit and watch you mother his baby.

"I missed my beautiful girls," he murmured, that smug smile gracing his features. You were glad to have looked up and seen it.

"Well, I just fed her and got her to sleep." you informed, and he nodded. Licking his lips while his eyes raked over you. Practically undressing you and imagining all the things he could do to you right now. It had been so long since the two of you had any time to each other. That seemed to be one of the few, if not only down falls to being parents. Sex felt scarce, but that didn't mean it was totally absent from your lives.

"I think I might shower while you lay her down," he spoke, shifting his feet as he went to turn back for the bathroom down the hall. "Or I could run you a bath while I make you something to eat?" you offered and he just couldn't say no.

He smiled, nodding his head while staring you down. So much love and adoration was in his eyes. He was perfect. Mayday was perfect. You were perfect.

"What man could say no to that offer?" He snickered, to which you rolled your eyes. Smiling fondly at your husband while you stood to your feet. Kissing his cheek when you made it over to him. "I'll get that bath running then," you hummed. Heading for Maydays room to put her to bed. Shutting the door behind you before you scurried off for the bathroom. Swaying your hips a little more than normal since you knew he was staring.

He was, too. His eyes eating you up like candy while they took in your form. God, he could eat you alive.

The water was the perfect temperature. The soaps that you put in it had him melting into the atmosphere. Everything was perfect. He couldn't ask for anything better. When you came walking in with food, and that skimpy bathrobe that drove him crazy. He was certain you were praying on his downfall.

"You spoil me," he told you as he took a plate from your hand. Watching as you sat on the edge of the tub with your own plate in hand. The both of you eating together. Peter a little more eager than you. He loved his food.

"Only because you spoil me in return," you grinned. He raised a questioning brow. Taking a bite of the Mac and Cheese that you warmed up from the night before. "How? I don't make enough money to spoil you. You spoil me more that I do you, and it's a little unfair," he pouted a bit. He hated the fact that he couldn't spoil you like he wanted to, but you never seemed to mind. Everything was fine the way it was.

"You find your ways, Pete," you hummed as you put your plate on the sink counter. Climbing off the tub so you could kneel on the floor next to the tub. His eyes were glued to yours. A questioning glint to them that begged for you to explain further.

"You don't need money to spoil someone. You pamper me with little things. Like your affection and how romantic you can be," you smiled, because he truly was a sap. He loved spending nights cuddling with you. Kissing over your body while reminding you how beautiful you were. Praising you for carrying his baby. Your baby. Making dinner for you on the nights that you couldn't bring yourself to. Or simply taking you and Mayday to the park to get some ice-cream and be a family.

"If it weren't for you, I probably would have never had little Mayday, either," you admitted, and he raised a brow. "Really?" He questioned, and you nodded.

"I never really wanted kids. Not until we started dating. You made me realize that I don't need to be scared of that sort of commitment ever again. You gave me a beautiful daughter," he felt his heart racing at your words. "I never really wanted a kid before you, either. It scared me, being a superhero and all." You both chuckled at that. Staring at one another for a moment or two.

"I guess we both spoiled each other in that department," you told him, and he nodded. "Guess so."

When Peter and yourself finally finished eating, that's when you helped him wash his hair. Something that he was going to do himself, but when you offered to do so. He just laid back and let you.

Your fingers pulled through his hair. Nails scratching his scalp just right while you spread the shampoo. A soft moan leaving his lips while his eyes fell shut. It had you smiling to yourself. Biting your bottom lip to try and keep it from growing any wider.

You leaned in to press a kiss to his shoulder. Your hands trailing down his chest while you leaned in closer to his ear. Peter's eyes opening when he felt your breath on his ear. His eyes trailing down to your chest. Catching a glimpse of the lavender bra under your bathrobe. The thought of you in lingerie had him grunting. His cock twitching to life under the water. It had been too long since the two of you had done anything like this. Something that wasn't a quickie before he left for work after his lunch break, while Mayday was down for her afternoon nap.

"God, I love you so much," he muttered, and you giggled. Pressing a kiss to his temple. "Scoot down so I can wash your hair out, goofball," you teased, and he felt his heart thumping. "Yes Ma'am."

Once his hair was all washed it was time for him to call it a night. Eyes begging for you to take him to the bedroom so you could both fuck like rabbits. Before Mayday that's what it felt like you two were. Primal Animals that only knew how to fuck or make love. Whatever mood Peter was in that night deciphered how he screwed you.

Tonight he wanted to pamper you. To really spoil you since he knew you planned to do the same to him. Gosh, "I'd do anything to be between those thighs," He murmured out loud. A dumbstruck look on his face. He hadn't even noticed he said it out loud, and you knew it. A giggle escaping your lips while you leaned forward. Ghosting your lips over his. "Not if I'm between yours first," you cooed, and he shuddered.

His face was a slight red out of embarrassment. He hadn't meant to say that to you out loud, but it wouldn't be the first lewd thing he'd ever said to you. Peter was fairly good at telling you what he wanted and how he wanted to do it. The more lust filled he got, the less of a sensor he had.

It was like a race for the both of you. Peter standing from the tub while flicking the switch so the water would drain. Scrambling out of it while you laughed and giggled with him. The both of you doing your best to be quiet so Mayday wouldn't wake up.

You ran for the bedroom. Feet pattering against the wooden floor while he did the same. Shutting the door behind himself before he pulled you in for a kiss that he craved. One that you both craved, really.

"I know you're wearing it," he spoke against your lips. Pulling the string of your bath robe so it would fall open. He was quick to pull back so he could see your frame better. "You still like it?" You asked, and he was quick to nod. His fingers running up your sides to your breasts. Giving them both a light squeeze with a groan. "Baby, I never want you to take it off," he chuckled, and you both knew that was a lie. By the end of the night he'd have it ripped off you and in a pile on the floor.

His lips came in contact with your neck. Fiery touches that you would never get used to. Your own powers were controlled by the sun, yet this heat was always so unfamiliar to you. So nice.

"Peter," you sighed as he sucked on your skin. Your body jolting when his fingers pinched your nipples through your bra. "You're so gorgeous, you know that?" He asked against your skin. Licking over your collar bone. You chuckled with a nod, "You tell me all the time," "Yeah, well I don't say it damn near enough." You rolled your eyes at his comment, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. "Yeah, and I don't tell you how good of a boy you are for me enough, either," he let out a grumble of a moan against your skin. It was so easy to rile him up, you loved it.

"May I?" You asked, ghosting your fingertips over his shaft, and he nodded. "Words, Peter," you demanded, and he shuddered. "Yes... Yeah, please," he mewled, and you snickered. He was already a mess.

You shrugged the robe off, allowing it to fall to the floor to give his hands more access to your skin. Your hand quick to reach between your lovers legs and grab him. Giving him a slow stroke before stopping to squeeze the base. His head fell onto your shoulder. A sigh leaving his lips while he gripped your hips.

"I need you," he called, "God, I need you so bad, don't tease me," he cried a little, and you had half a mind to listen, but you didn't want to. You had other plans for the night. You wanted to draw out this time you both had together for as long as you could.

"No," you purred, and the whine that he let out was heavenly. "Now, don't pout, Petey," you purred, "be a good boy for me and I'll reward you," he nodded frantically. He just wanted you to carry on and do something. Anything.

When you started to drop to your knees he felt his heart stutter in his chest. Everywhere your hands grazed as you slid down to the floor was on fire. At this point he couldn't tell if it was from his excitement, or if you were doing it yourself.

Your hand stroked his shaft a couple more times. Peter watching with excited eyes. His thighs shaking while he fought the urge to thrust forward.

"You can touch me, Peter," you told him, and he nodded. His shaky hands coming to tangle in your hair. One staying on the top of your head while the other came to cup the side of your face.

"Will you be good?" You asked, and he nodded. "I know you will," you hummed, kissing his hip. Listening to the moan that left his throat just from having your lips so close to where he wanted you the most. He craved you to the point that it hurt.

When you did finally reach his cock, the noise he made was unreal. Your eyes darting up to his with warning. One of his hands shot up to cover his mouth. A soft 'sorry, my love,' falling from his lips. He truly didn't mean to be as loud as he was. He could never help it. He prayed that one day the two of you could find a babysitter for Mayday so neither of you had to hold back as much as you both did.

Your head bobbed and he felt his knees shaking all ready. His brow knitting together while his chest began to heave. He couldn't take his eyes off of you. You were like an angel. On your knees, committing sin. The thought made him shudder. A hum rumbling from his chest while his head lolled to the side. "Feels so... Good," he purred, and you hummed in response. The vibration sending a wave of pleasure through his body. Both hands shooting to the top of your head so he could stable himself. His mouth slightly parted while his vision grew blurry from the tears that pricked the corners of his eyes.

"God, like that, shit," he spewed out words. You knew he was close, even if you couldn't sense it like he could sense your own approaching orgasms. You would know from how many times you've made him cum in your relationship.

You didn't allow him to, though. Another groan leaving his lips while he buckled forward. His hips thrusting forward a little in an attempt to chase your mouth. "Dammit, I was so close," he slurred, and you chuckled. Leaving an open mouthed kiss on the side of his cock. "I know, and you did so good for me baby," you purred, and he whined. He had such mixed feelings for your praising tease. He loved it, but he also despised it.

"How about I reward you now?" You asked, looking up to your lover with a grin. He was quick to nod in agreement. Licking his lips while he waited anxiously for what you had to say next.

"You wanna fill me up tonight?" "You have no idea," he practically growled. The sound of his voice. The switch from whiny to damn near feral. It went straight to your core. Your breath hitching as he helped pull you to your feet. Pushing you back until you were on the bed.

He fell on top of you. Caging your body with his own. Something seemed to snap in his eyes and it excited you more than taking control over him. It wasn't often that you let him be in complete control, but right now. All you could think of is what he had said in the tub.

"You still want your head between my thighs?" You asked, and his eyes were quick to meet yours again. A smirk pulling at his lips while he stared down at you. "I'd live there if I could, baby," you both chuckled a little at this, but you both knew it was true, too. There were some mornings that you'd wake up to his head between your thighs. Eating you like you were his last meal on earth. He'd just give you head if you'd let him. He never really expected anything in return from you.

He lips crashed down onto yours. A kiss that had you both gasping for air when he was done. Teeth on teeth that led to his tongue exploring your mouth.

His hands were on their own mission. Scaling your body. Taking in every dip and curve that you had. Memorizing you like he did every other time he touched you. If he didn't have any other responsibilities, he could stay in this position with you forever. Touching your body while kissing you with fervor.

One of his hands cupped your breast. The other resting on your thigh. His lips finally parting from yours with a string of saliva still connecting you both. A smug and dreamy smile on his face. "I love you," he hummed, and you giggled. "I love you, too," you told him, and his smile grew. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have you.

His lips trailed over the top of your breasts. Kissing and sucking. Leaving little marks on the soft skin. His hand on your thigh sliding up your body so he could take both of your breasts in his hands. Squeezing and toying with your sensitive mounds of flesh. Your back arching with soft noises that left your throat. Every sound that you made only fed his ego more than it did before.

His mouth replaced one of his hands. Mouthing over the thin fabric that his your nipples from the air. Saliva wetting your skin through the fabric. A sharp inhale coming from you when he nipped your sensitive skin. Your fingers gripping his shoulders while he teased your body. He knew what drove you crazy. Just like you knew what drove him crazy.

His free hand trailed down to your panties. His hand cupping your sex with a moan. He could feel how hot you were down there and it drove him wild. His middle and index finger running over your mound. Feeling how wet you were through the fabric of the lingerie. It was intoxicating him. Just as much as his touch was intoxicating you.

His mouth switched over to your other breast. Biting the flesh while he pushed your panties to the side to slip his middle finger inside of you. A gasp leaving your throat while you tugged at his hair. "Pete!" you snapped, and he grunted, "'M sorry, you're just so good," he moaned against your skin. His now free hand reaching behind you to undo the bra that kept him from your bare skin. Gibing him the chance to abuse your nipples without the fabric in the way. Though, it didn't last long before his mouth was trailing down your stomach. Leaving wet kisses on his way down.

Once he met your clothed sex with his face he felt himself growing impatient. Nudging your clothed clit with his nose. "You're so pretty like this," he sounded drunk. He practically was. Anytime he had sex he was. He was intoxicated by you. You were his perfect drug.

His fingers hooked your underwear. Pulling them down your legs and tossing them to the side. Peter blew on your sex. Keeping your legs apart with his strong grip. "Stay still for me, please," he asked, looking up with pleading eyes. Though there was a hint of command behind them that had you clenching around nothing. You only nodded your head in agreement, which had him smiling.

He was quick to get to work. Licking up your slit. Your breath hitching while your fingers tangled in his hair. His hips bucking down into the bed to try and gather some sort of friction for himself.

He licked at your sensitive bud. Licking and sucking until you were squirming and on the verge of tears. Biting the back of your hand to hold back the cries that tried to bleed from your mouth.

"Taste so good," he rambled. Reaching a hand down to push two fingers inside you. Curling them up, then dragging them out. Slipping the digits past his lips to take a taste. Moaning around his fingers before slipping them out. "Heavenly," he sighed, before diving in once again. Lapping you up like a dog.

It wasn't long before you were summing on his tongue. You told him you were close, but he knew. Only abusing your clit until you were convulsing underneath him. If it weren't for you pushing his head away, he would have made you cum again, too.

"Peter, please," you cried, and he looked up from between your legs. "Just one more time," he tried to plea. Leaning down to lick your clit again. Your body jolting at the overstimulating feeling. "Peter, if you aren't inside me in the next ten seconds I swear to God," you snapped, and he smirked. "All right, all right," he chuckled, kissing your stomach before pulling himself up so he was positioned between your thighs.

He moved above you for a moment or two. Just staring down at you with those adoring eyes. You hated how he looked at you sometimes. It made your heart ache and wish that you had met him sooner than you had. He always made you feel so special and so loved.

"I want another kid," he blurted, "Maybe a little boy, he could have your eyes," he daydreamed out loud, and you nearly laughed. Yet, you couldn't. You only stared back up at him. Hearts practically in your eyes while you reached up to cup the sides of his face. "Only if he has your smile," he chuckled at your words. Leaning down to nuzzle your nose with his. "Is that a yes to baby number two?" He snickered, reaching down to rub your stomach. He was obsessed with you, and he couldn't get over the thought of you carrying another one of his kids. He was already crazy for you, but seeing you pregnant with his child? It did things to him, and you knew it, too. He wasn't shy about it.

"You like being a mommy?" He hummed, and you nodded, "Only for you," you chuckled, and he snickered. "You're a good one too. So loving, caring, rewarding," he winked with the last word, and you rolled your eyes. Swatting his chest. "Peter," he shrugged. "You are, I'm glad you are, too. Mommy. It's a good title for you," He cooed, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.

"Peter, it's been over ten seconds," you reminded him, wrapping your legs around his waist. Bringing your hips up to meet his. The both of you shuddering at the friction. "All right," he sighed out, but instead of pressing himself inside of you like you wanted. He pulled away from you. A frown settling on your lips. "What?" "Hands and knees, now," you stared for a second. It never ceased to surprise you when he ordered you around, but you never really complained about it either.

Once you were maneuvered around he was quick to pull you closer to him by your hips. Leaning down to kiss the dip of your back. "Gonna fill you full," he murmured against your skin, rubbing the tip of his dick along the slit of your sex.

"Shit, Peter," you wined, leaning down to lay the side of your face on the bed. Peter let out a moan at the position you put yourself in. Ass in the air, face in the sheets. You were gorgeous.

He hushed you, biting his lip while putting his fingers against your lips. You sucked them into your mouth and he swore it was one of the hottest things you've done.

When he pressed inside of you, you both fought to stay quiet. Peter was practically falling apart above you. The thought of fucking a baby into you had him harder than he had expected. His hips giving a few testing rolls to make sure you were wet enough. Only moving when you gave a nod.

His thrusts were slow at first. Rolling against you with rhythm. Until they weren't. Until you begged him to move fasted and he had to listen to you.

Both of his hands were on your hips now. His own hips thrusting in and out of you at a past that had your whole body trembling. You pawed and gripped at the sheets. One of his hands keeping hold of your hip while the other reached for one of your hands. Intertwining his fingers with your own. Even while he was fucking you dumb he showed so much affection for you. It was almost overwhelming.

Peter leant over you. Pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade while he panted and moaned in your ear. The sound of skin on skin echoing in the room. The faster he got the further you got smothered into the bed. He was chasing that high that the both of you craved. When he felt his approaching, he was quick to reach between your thighs to rub your clit with the speed of his thrusts. Bringing the both of you to the highs that you desired. His hips slowing while he rolled out his orgasm and rubbed out your own.

Peter lay limp above you. His chest heaving on top of your back. One hand running up and down your side while the other squeezed and rubbed at your hand.

"One more?" He asked, and you chuckled. "Your libido's too high for your own good, Peter," you sighed, and he chuckled. Pulling out of you which caused the both of you to groan with distaste. "I'm not hearing a no?" He questioned with a brow raised. Helping you roll onto your back. "One more," you told him with a nod, and he grinned. "Maybe two?" "Pete, don't push it," you giggled, reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck. Peter laughing into the kiss he gave you.

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