#professor peter parker

[backtothefanfiction]

Professor Parker Part 2

Summary: where Professor Parker makes a deal with trouble, in order to get them to stay in class.

Word Count: 2.4k+

Warnings: 18+ Only! Smut, professor x student relationship (college age of course!), oral f!receiving, praise kink, angst

A/N- I am sorry this took so long to actually do, but yeah, after that recent talk show look (you know the one I’m talking about, if not I reblogged it a few posts back) I just knew I needed to go back to this. Anyway, enjoy.

Ps @sincericida it’s been a while since part one so would you mind reblogging to help find the original masses, who knows who’s usernames are still the same or working.

You weren’t going to continue taking his course. You had every intention of going straight to the Dean asking to change. Sure you had been eagerly awaiting this course ever since you’d first read about, it well over a year ago, when you were thinking about where you wanted to study after you graduated. The way Professor Parker focused on Multiversal Theory, using Physics of Matter to provide proof for his theories, it was a truly riveting subject. But now, after all this. There was no way you could stay in his class, listening to him talk for 12-15 hours a week, knowing he’d buried his head between your legs, made you cum again and again… no you couldn’t do it. That would just be self induced torture, no? Because there was also no way he’d fuck you until you saw stars again, would he? No, there was no way. Then how come you were now sat on top of his desk, your legs spread, panties dropped to the floor between you as he once again ate your pussy like he was a man starved?

He had stopped you as you went to leave, trying to blend in and leave amongst the crowd. “Hold it Miss Y/L/N.” Fuck! You thought you were gonna get away with it.

There was silence as you waited, arms folded- guarded- as the last couple of students left with small smiles and waved their goodbyes to the Professor. Professor, uhhh the reminder of the name he’d given you last night now felt very different.

“Don’t go.” He said as he moved back towards his desk and began shifting things around. “I know that look. Don’t change course.” You couldn’t meet his eyes. You kept quiet with your eyes to the ground as you watched him come back around the front of the desk, his ankles crossing over in front of him as he leant back on the desk. “Last nights on me, I’m sorry,” he admitted and it finally forced you to meet his eyes as he continued to speak. “But it shouldn’t mean you have to change course.”

You didn’t know what he expected you to say. You didn’t know how else to respond either, a now slightly less uncomfortable silence falling between you. He sighed as he ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Well you certainly chose the right name to introduce yourself with… trouble.”

“You’re one to talk… Professor.” You said, finally finding your voice and the corner of his mouth quirked into a small smile.

“Okay, you have me there. But in all fairness, I’m not expecting to find new students in clubs.” He mused, both a chastising, yet naughty glimmer of admiration in his eye.

“You can blame my room mate for that one. You can also blame her for pushing me on you.” You chuffed as the memory from the night before came back to you.

He frowned as if remembering too. “Quite literally if I remember correctly.” He joked and it made your tummy flip.

You fell quiet again, your eyes quickly shooting back to looking at his feet instead of his face, as the feeling of your crush overwhelmed you and your previous dilemma returned.

As if he could see the conflict in your mind for himself, he stepped closer, forcing your attention back on him as he said, “What have I got to do to convince you to stay in this class?” He asked honestly, but he was too close to you. His smell was intoxicating. His gaze penetrating. His eyes were so soft and earnest, you just wanted to melt into them. His curls were too neat in the light of day and you just wanted to run your hands through them until they were fluffy and soft and messy again, just like they had been when you had left him in bed and snuck out this morning.

Your breathing caught in your chest as he reached out his hand to you, his warm fingers coming into contact with the smallest patch of bare skin on your arm where your cardigan had slipped down. It sent a shiver down your spine and you knew he had felt it.

He pulled his hand away again hesitantly and you reached to pull your cardigan back up onto your shoulder to cover yourself up again protectively. “I can’t.” You said gently, the two words breaking you and you knew you had to walk away before it was too late- before anything else could happen and make this hurt anymore.

You had taken two steps towards the door when you felt his hand reach for your wrist to pull you back. When you met his eyes you were met with conflict, it was plain on his face now as he looked you up and down fully in the light of day. His gaze finally fell to the floor and he released your wrist to rub at his face as he sighed. “Uhhhh you weren’t kidding when you said you were gonna cause me a whole load of trouble,” he muttered to himself and all you could do was frown, your fingers picking at the pages the notebook in your fingers, as you tried to work out what thoughts were going through his head.

He sighed again as he looked to the ceiling as if trying to talk himself out of whatever idea had placed itself into his head. “Fuck,” he groaned quietly and the next thing you knew he was marching towards the door.

You watched him closely, your heart in your mouth as he pulled down the blind and there was a faint click as he locked the door. You only just about had time to realise what he was doing before he marched back over to you, his hands reaching out to hold either side of your face as he brought his lips to yours.

The touch instantly made you ache between your legs, your knees wobbling slightly as you took a sudden deep breath in through your nose as if his kiss alone allowed you to breathe freely again. There was a loud slap as the book in your hands hit the linoleum floor, but neither of you flinched as your reached your fingers up into his hair, messing up his curls and pulling him closer.

As his arm moved down to snake around your lower back, pulling you in closer to him, you could feel every contour of his body. Could feel the pressure building behind his pants zipper.

You opened your mouth up to him more and felt him waste no time, as he licked inside your mouth, pulling a desperate and wanton moan from between your lips. He grunted slightly in response, his forehead pushing into yours desperately as he forced himself to break off the passionate kiss for just a moment. “Are you sure this is what you want?” He asked. “You know you won’t be able to say anything to anyone.” He said, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation. “But I’m not letting you transfer out of this class, okay?” He said strongly.

You felt dizzy. Your eyes struggled to focus on him. From his kiss to his questions- far too many to answer in a short amount of time- you just wanted to feel his lips on yours again. Wanted to feel his fingers everywhere. Last night had been the best night of your life so far and he was dangling that feeling in front of you like a poisoned apple on a string- and you so wanted to bite.

“Come on, Trouble, I need you to answer me,” he said, somewhat desperately and it made you wonder, maybe he wanted this just as much as you did. At first you thought this might just be a ruse to get you to stay, but maybe it was more than that.

“Yes,” you sighed breathlessly.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I understand. I’ll stay. I won’t tell anyone, just please-“ you hesitated a second as you heard the rest of the sentence you wanted to say play out in your head and worked up the courage to say it- but you figured you’d come this far and already given yourself a nickname to live up to so why not say it- “promise me you’ll do that thing with your tongue again.” You sighed out breathlessly and a devilish gleam twinkled in his eye as he let out a small chuckle and shook his head gently against yours.

“Trouble,” he sighed. “Which thing?” He asked, playing along with you, but you were sure he already knew, so kept quiet as his gaze on you grew hungrier. He gave you a wolfish grin as he shook his head again. “When? Now?” He asked and you nibbled at your lip in anticipation.

He sighed again and rolled his eyes, his fingers reaching for yours as he began to pull you slowly around the back of his desk, backing you up until the backs of your thighs were pressing into the wood.

“It’s a good thing you wore a skirt for your first day of my class then, isn’t it?” He teased, his fingers tracing up your bare skin, slowly inching underneath the skirt and sending a shiver up your spine. He didn’t stop their journey until he reached your underwear, his fingers hooking into the elastic at your hips and slowly dragging them back down your legs at an agonising pace, until they reached your knees and he let them drop to the floor, ready for you to step out of them.

As you did so, he slowly encouraged you to sit back on top of his desk, his hands reaching back to lift up your skirt and reveal yourself to him, his eyes not leaving yours, as he slowly lowered himself onto his knees on the floor before you. Your eyes fluttered closed and you sighed as his lips turned to graze the inside of your knee, the barely there touch of his mouth on your skin enough to send an overwhelming rush of arousal to your core. As he gradually kissed his way up your inner thigh, your fingers gripping the papers on his desk to ground. You couldn’t believe you were actually doing this. You were about to enter into a secret affair with your professor like this was an episode of Riverdale or Pretty Little Liars.

But as his tongue finally moved up to swipe through your sex, you really didn’t care. If it meant you got to experience the bliss this man was able to drag from you on a regular basis, you didn’t care about anything. As he continued lick at your folds, his tongue sucking your clit into his mouth every few swipes, building you up at an agonising pace, you fought with all your might to keep your moans quiet, biting down on your lower lip with a strangled sigh as your sensitivity bloomed and the pressure between your legs grew tighter.

You allowed yourself one low shaky sigh as his tongue pushed deep inside you, teasing you agonisingly and you gripped the edges of his desk as you grew desperately close to your release. “Good girl,” he praised, as he took his mouth back away from you for just a second, before sliding two of his fingers gently inside you and sucking your clit back between his lips.

“Oh, shit.” You hissed, as his words and tone sent another flutter of arousal and sensitivity between your lips and you finally realised how much trouble you were really in. But it was too late, you’d already taken a bite from the tainted apple, the poison was already coursing through your blood and it felt far too good to run away.

His fingers gripped tighter to your thighs as they began to shake, your climax so desperate to come flooding out, but the tension of needing to be quiet made it unbearable. Your fingers clawed at his shoulders as you tried to keep yourself grounded and in control, the coil deep in your pelvis ready to expload and you felt his fingers slip out of you, his hands moving to hold you down firmly onto the desk as he took one last swipe at the sensitive apex between your legs. Your eyes squeezed shut, your legs clamping tightly around his face as it all came crashing down, the tiniest desperate squeak escaping from between your lips before you swallowed the need to cry out back down, instead panting your way through your climax until you could feel your body beginning to cool and calm again.

Slowly you relaxed your thighs and you heard a faint breathy chuckle of satisfaction fall from his lips as he rubbed soothingly at your bare legs again, before moving back, his hand casually moving to wipe away the mess on his face.

As he finally stood back up, his tongue lapping up the last of your juices from his lips, you saw him bunch up your panties, that he’d picked up off the floor, and wrap them tightly in his fingers before sliding them into his pocket.

“Hey, I need those back.” You said to him indignantly, a slight panic in your chest at the thought of having to walk back out of the classroom with nothing on under your skirt.

“New rule.” He said, standing up straight as he looked over your flushed form, still sitting on top of his desk as he leaned in closer. “Your panties end up on my classroom floor, I get to keep hold of them.” You were sure his words had just sent another wave of arousal back down between your legs, but you fought to ignore it, the thought of walking out of here panty-less, still more pressing, especially if this was going to be a regular thing- you’d be out of underwear before the semester was out and there was no way your student budget was gonna stretch to new underwear every other week.

You were about to protest the fact as you pushed yourself off the desk, your hand reaching out to snatch your underwear back from his pocket, but he swerved out the way before you could so much as even make the slightest bit of contact. “Uh, uh, uh,” he said, holding his finger up to me, that devilish smirk back in the corner of his mouth. “You can have them back, as long as you get good grades on your essays.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you let out a breathy little scoff. “So do we have a deal, trouble?” He asked patiently.

You rolled your eyes again as you conceded, “Yeah,” you sighed, “we have a deal.”

[sincericida]

ANDREW GARFIELD and FLORENCE PUGH

photos shared on "Celebrity Substitute"

(source)

[suzieloveships]

The way Michael Fassbender and James Mcavoy talked about Erik and Charles and how Hugh Jackman and Ryan Reynolds talked about Logan and Wade but also how Josh Brolin talked Wade and Nate and him calling a scene where DP falls balls first on Cable's face a "sex scene" and also Tom Hardy saying that Eddie and Venom "are aligned by the stars, are meant to be"...

I hope Joseph Quinn knows I expect similar energy from him next year if someone ask him about Johnny and Peter relationship while he is promoting Fantastic Four

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Late Bloomer 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Peter Parker, Steve Rogers (Professor AU)

Summary: you start your second year of university but as the workload grows more intense, you start to feel your age. (mid-30s reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

You are as ever painfully early. It's a habit that often leaves you wandering or hovering awkwardly. You check your watch as you come up to the steps of the century-old building. You are in dread of your physics class but it turns out that all the easy electives fill up fast. 

Before you can start the ascent, there's a scuff of steps from the other side. The breadth of the stairs nearly spans a third of the grand facade. You glance over as a young man with a messenger bag rushes up the first few steps only to trip and sprawl over the concrete stairs with an oomph. Without hesitation, you rush over as he groans and clatters back to the bottom. 

"Oh my gosh, are you alright?" You scoop up the phone that flew from his hand, seemingly the cause of his accident.  

He grunts and struggles to turn himself over, clutching his chest as he can't even get a word out. You know exactly what's happened. You rub his back through his burgundy jacket and give a gentle lat. 

"Ah, you're fine, honey, you just got the wind knocked out of ya." 

He nods and gulps, a spiral of his reddish brown hair falling down his forehead. His dark eyes meet yours, their panicked sheen softening as his lips tremble in an attempt at a smile. 

"Thanks," he rasps at last. 

You pull your arm back and offer him your phone. 

"That was quite the tumble," you stand straight and extend your hand. He takes it and hauls himself up. 

"Yeah, this dang thing," he wiggles his cell and tucks it away in his jacket, "always getting me in trouble." 

You smile nervously and your eyes drift down as he favours one leg. There's a red splotch growing on his khakis. You pop your brows up in concern. 

"Er, think you got yourself good." You point and he looks down. 

"God! I knew I shouldn't have worn these ones. I told May, dark colours!" 

"Baking soda, maybe a bit of club soda," you assure him. "I got bandaids in my bag." 

"You-- do?" He's surprised. 

"Can never be too prepared," you smile. "Um, I guess.. 

We're in the way." 

You glance around as you sense bodies heading up the steps, a few glancing your way. 

"Uh, yeah, why don't we head inside," he takes a ginger step. "Uh, typical. My first day." 

"It'll get better," you say. 

"Hm, yeah, I guess it already has," he grins at you before he turns back up the steps. 

"You need help?" You ask. 

"No, no, I'm not a total disaster," he chuckles. "So," he clears his throat as you catch up to him, "what do you teach?" 

"Oh," you repress a strike of embarrassment. Of course he would assume you're a professor, or a TA at the very least. It's obvious you have a few years on him and most of your classmates. "I'm a student." 

"Nice," he nods, "wait, oh, gee, I didn't mean to imply-- ah, I'm sorry." 

"No, no, it's fine. It's my second year. First year all the freshmen called me mom," you shake your head. "But that might be the bandaids in my bag." 

"Maybe," he stops and squints, "right..." he points his finger around as he thinks, "this way." 

You let him guide you. You don't need to be in class for another half hour. You follow him up to the second floor. That's where your class will be. Convenient. 

When he stops at a door and digs around in his pocket, your heart drops. You look up at the room number as he takes out a set of keys and unlocks the door. You chew on your dismay. 

He lets you in ahead of him. You wait patiently and he heads up to the podium. He leans on the table next to it as he unhooks his bag from over his shoulder. He sighs and peers down at his knee. 

The pulls up the fabric and hisses. You approach as you sift through your bag. He bends his leg as he looks at the scrape. It's not that bad. 

You take out the little pack of alcohol wipe from the little emergency pouch. How many times have you played mother hen to drunk coeds? You're prepared for it all. 

"Wow, you got everything in that magic bag," he teases. 

You squat down and wipe the blood away. As you peel the bandaid wrapper away, you scoff, "I'm a pack horse. Utterly terrified of forgetting anything important." 

You cover the cut and run your fingers across the bandage to make sure it sticks. He winces. 

"Sorry," you apologise as you stand and crumple up the wipe and wrapper. 

You search around for the garbage and toss the waste. You fish again in your bag and take out your sanitizer. You squirt it onto your palm and drop it back through the open zipper. Your rub your hands together as he pulls his pantleg back down. 

"Well, since you got my blood on your hands, I guess you should get a name too," he chuckles, "I'm Peter. Er, Professor Parker. Still getting used to that." 

He offers his hand and you shake it, "Olive." 

"Olive. Pretty. Er, interesting. Oh no," he pulls back, "I went through sensitivity training. Can I say that?" 

"It's fine, professor. I'm not overly fond of the name myself," you shrug. 

"Right, well," he bends his arm and tugs up his sleeve to check his apple watch. "I hope I didn't make you late." 

"Well, actually, funny story," you scratch the side of your neck, "I'm enrolled in Physics 2." 

He tilts his head and his lips part on disbelief, "you're joking." 

"Nah, it's not exactly my favourite subject but I'll do my best," you say, "but er, if you need to get set up, I can wait in the hall." 

"What? No. You're early. Make sure you get the best seat," he insists. "I will say the front row is where you wanna be but I was a student not too long ago and I won't be insulted if you sit in the back." 

You laugh, "well, you know, I'm a late bloomer and these ears aren't so good." You kid, "front row's fine with me." 

His grin lingers, awkwardly as his forehead lines and he tries to come up with a response. You smile, "I'll go sit down." 

You give a little wave and go to find a seat. You settle in with your bag in your lap and slid out your notebook and the box of fresh pens. You tried your laptop for notes but you just find your eyes hurt from the blue light. 

You tuck your bag under your seat and unfold the small desk from the arm rest. As you peel back the cover of your notebook, your ears tingle. You glance over as Peter-- Professor Parker, peeks at you. You give a tense smile and pull out a pen, putting your focus back to your notebook. 

At least if you do crappy, you might be able to charm yourself into at least a passing grade. 

[delicatebarness]

the manuscript | chapter one

Summary: Vulnerable and Honest.

Warnings: Age Gap. (Dr Barnes: late 40s & Reader: early 20s) Smut.

Word Count: 1408

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A/N: I'm so sorry Peter. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: @mostlymarvelgirl | @mrsnikstan

You tried to focus, to be present in the moment. The room was dimly lit, and the bass from the party outside thudded against the walls. Peter moved behind you, his breath heavy. Every touch felt mechanical and predictable. 

His hands gripped your hips, pressing himself closer. “You feel amazing,” he murmured as his breathing became ragged. You forced a moan, you wanted to match his enthusiasm, you wanted to let go. Closing your eyes, you tried to immerse yourself in the sensations but your mind wandered. 

Your thoughts drifted to upcoming assignments, the laundry that had started piling up, and whether the milk would go bad. 

Peter’s pace quickened, as he neared his climax, his grip on your hips tightened. “I’m close,” he whispered. Arching your back, you pushed yourself closer to him. It was no use, you felt it going through the motions—his movements, were erratic, and his breathing was heavy. 

With a satisfied grown, he finished, collapsing onto the bed beside you. You followed his lead, lying beside him as he sighed contently. He rolled the condom off, tossing it toward the bin beside his bed, before wrapping an arm around you. 

His chest heaved as he caught his breath. “That was great,” he smiled down at you, his voice drowsy. Forcing a smile, you nodded. 

It didn’t take long for him to drift off to sleep. But, you lay awake, staring at the bedroom ceiling. Your mind replayed your mental to-do list as the music continued into the night. 

Slipping out of bed, you made your way toward the bathroom. Closing the door behind you, you swiftly turned the lock as the sound of the party muffled. You started at your reflection in the mirror as you leaned against the sick. 

Turning the tap, you let the cool water run over your hands before splashing your face. As you thought about your assignments, your mind drifted to Dr. Barnes. His presence, and how it commanded your attention. His piercing eyes, the way they would lock onto yours during debates. 

Your hand traveled down your body, looking for the release that Peter’s touch failed to find. Vivid images of Dr. Barnes– his hands, voice, and stare continued to play on your mind. Your fantasies grew, consuming your mind as you imagined his touch. His whispered words of encouragement. 

The tension built quickly within you, eagerly your body responded to your forbidden thoughts. Biting your lip, you tried to stifle your sighs. Not that anyone could hear over the party and music. The pleasure you found in your touch was intense, immediate, and driven. 

Your breath quickened as you remembered the thrill of intellectual sparring, always leaving you craving more.

A wave of pleasure washed over you, trembling, you struggled to keep quiet. Your mind was lost in the ecstasy. The release you were desperate for earlier in the night. 

As the sensations subsided, you leaned against the sick again. A mix of guilt and satisfaction coursed through you as you tried to steady your breathing. 

Taking a deep breath, you washed your hands and splashed your face. Returning to the bedroom, careful not to make eye contact with the other’s still partying. Peter, still sound asleep, blissfully unaware of your betrayal. 

Sliding back into bed, you found your gaze back on the bedroom ceiling, your mind a tangled, complicated mess of desires. 

~

Pushing aside the tangled thoughts and desires that had consumed your night, you rose from Peter’s bed with renewed determination. He slept soundly, unaware of the struggle you had faced internally. After going about your morning routine, you made your way to Dr. Barnes’ class. The lecture hall was already buzzing with students, the energy palpable as you entered. 

“Good morning, everyone,” Dr. Barnes stood at the front of the room, his voice commanding the attention of the room. “I trust you’ve all had a chance to review the reading for today.” his gaze lingered on yours for a moment longer than the others. 

He launched into details for the new assignment, memories of the previous night caused your mind to drift. Your desires for Dr. Barnes began to overshadow your commitment to your relationship with Peter, guilt gnawed at you. You tried to force your focus, trying to push these feelings aside. 

His voice delved into the intricacies of literary theory, weaving through concepts and ideas. He was a master storyteller. All attention riveted on Dr. Barnes as the hall around you fell silent, his presence and voice filled the space. 

As Dr. Barnes continued, he began to turn slightly, his glance sweeping across the room. His gaze lingered on you as if expecting your hand to be raised. He readied himself for another heated debate. 

“Yes, Miss Spector…?” Dr. Barnes began, his voice cutting through your fogged thoughts, pulling you back to the present. Blinking, startled, you realized that all eyes were now on you. 

“Yes, Dr. Barnes?” you replied, a small smile playing on your lips as you tried to mask your confusion. A slight blush rose to your cheeks with embarrassment, you hoping it would go unnoticed. 

He paused, lines formed across his forehead as a furrow formed between his brows. “You had something to add to the discussion?”

Your heart began to race, the thudding loud in your ears. “Oh, no, sorry,” you stammered, shaking your head slightly. “Lost in thought.”

“I see,” he said, softening his expression slightly, his tone measured. “Try to stay with us, Miss Spector. Your insights are valuable.” 

As he resumed his lecture, you sank back into your seat. This little incident was a reminder of the boundaries that separated you from Dr. Barnes. The line between student and teacher was clear at that moment. You noticed Yelena, one of your best friends, giving you a curious glance, but you avoided her eyes, choosing to focus on your notebook in front of you instead. You tried to refocus, attempting to immerse yourself in the material, and jotting down notes. 

You made a conscious effort to engage with the discussion as the class continued, asking questions and offering insights as normal. Dr. Barnes acknowledged you with a small nod, the silent encouragement that boosts your confidence. 

~

When the class finally drew to an end, Dr. Barnes gave out the new assignment, expressing his expectations and detailing the guidelines. 

You lingered behind as students began to pack up and leave. Approaching his desk, the weight of the unspoken connection between you two caused your heart to pound once more. 

“Dr. Barnes,” you began, keeping your voice steady. “Do you have any specific advice for approaching this assignment?” 

He looked up from his desk, his gaze meeting yours as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Authenticity in writing comes from personal experience. Write what you know.” 

You nodded, “Thank you,” you replied but didn’t move. You lingered, and Dr. Barnes noticed your hesitation. 

“Is there something else on your mind, Miss Spector?” he asked, his tone softer, almost inviting. 

Unsure of how much to professionally reveal, you hesitated. “I just… I, um, I’m struggling to find a personal angle that feels significant enough,” you admitted. “I want my writing to be… compelling like you said.” 

He leaned forward slightly, and his gaze intensified. “Well, compelling writing often comes from exploring parts of yourself that you’re the most afraid of, most afraid to reveal,” he paused for a moment, allowing you the opportunity to speak. You didn’t take it, focusing on his jaw tensing slightly. “It’s about being vulnerable, honest. Sometimes, the stories we’re most hesitant to tell are the ones that resonate the most.” 

His words struck a chord deep within you. “I understand,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper. “Thank you, Dr. Barnes.” 

You turned to leave, and just as you were about to walk out the door, he called after you. “Miss Spector,” his voice stopped you in your tracks. Your breath hitched as you turned back to face him. He stood now and leaned against his desk, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “Remember, my door is always open if you need further guidance.” 

“Thank you,” you replied, your gaze flickering down to his hands as they rested casually on his hips. “I appreciate it.” You left the lecture hall, your mind buzzing with a whirlwind of thought. His words lingered, echoing in your mind. Vulnerable, and honest.

---

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[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

Bad Professors Masterlist

Steve Rogers and Peter Parker

Late Bloomer 💚 2

Thor and Bucky

Sweet Like Candy 💗 2

Loki and Tony Stark

Like a Stone 💛 2

Walter Marshall and destroyer!Chris

Know Your Place 💜 2

Lloyd Hansen and Nick Fowler

Learn the Hard Way 🖤 2

Andy Barber and Cole Turner

Habits 🧡 2

Lee Bodecker and Ransom Drysdale

Words Like Honey 💛 2

Colin Shea and Rafe Cameron

Smile Like You Mean It ❤️ 2

[theshadowrealmitself]

Currently thinking about Spidey volunteering at Xavier’s school and his spar with Wolverine turning into a wrestling match (except the fighting isn’t staged) and then at some point the students are like “hit him with the chair!!!”

And Xavier comes in to see Spidey holding up one of his spare wheelchairs, about to slam it down on Wolverine, until he notices Xavier and slowly puts it back on the ground, apologizing to him

[xs1344]

[backtothefanfiction]

Now I’ve re-opened the Professor Parker can of worms, I feel the need to write so many more little ficlettes about him and Trouble.

[sincericida]

professor peter parker recs please

Dear anon, I don’t know if I’ll find many in this very specific theme (and delicious), but let's go!

"Good Girl" , "Gray Hairs and Massages" by @blooming-violets

"Golden Hour" by @she-likesorchids

"Sit Still", "Professor Peter Parker" by @backtothefanfiction

"Sparks Fly" by @mortwig

"Trick or Treat", "In the Name of Science" by @withahappyrefrain

I said before and I reaffirm: always has the peter parker fanfic tag, where I keep all TASM Peter Parker/ Andrew Garfield fics I read here on the blog here.

Thank you to all the writers on Tumblr. It’s a duty and a pleasure to disclose the incredible works of all of you. 🫶

[pixelsproject]

『VS. Series』 Palette Swap Bases

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SOURCES ↴ VS. Series (Arcade) backgrounds uploaded by @the2dstagesfg (Tumblr) VS. Series (Arcade) character sprites uploaded to Emu Gif Animation (emugif.com)

[nabooberrie]

Y’all I gotten bit by a spider as I slept on my Spider-Man pillows 😭

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Late Bloomer 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Peter Parker, Steve Rogers (Professor AU)

Summary: you start your second year of university but as the workload grows more intense, you start to feel your age. (mid-30s reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

Your confidence starts to recover as you show up to your Art Studio class. It’s in the same room as last year and the familiarity makes you feel a little less lost. As it so happens, the professor is also the same as your first. 

Professor Rogers welcomes his class in as he did the year before. He explains that the brushes, paints, and materials in the ‘community garden’. The collection if for those in need and the need is never questioned. Students are encouraged to come take what they need and leave what they don’t. With the cost of materials, it’s a kind concept. You took advantage of it more often than you liked. 

You gently unzip your leather artist’s bag while he begins the lesson. As he reads over the expectations in the syllabus, your eyes meet. He smiles and continues. You still, reluctant to distract him. 

“Last year, you would have gone over 2D concepts and techniques. This year, we will delve into 3D. Every two weeks, you will submit a project. Lessons are Tuesdays in the current slot, but the studio will be open daily for three hours after seven. Whether you work here or in your own space, I expect all work to be on time. Extensions will not be given outside extenuating circumstance.” 

His voice is rigid but you know well he isn’t as strict as he pretends to be. It’s the first day, he has to make a show. Still, you never submitted anything past the due date. Not in this class. 

“I am aware of your other classes and I have not set unrealistic goals alongside those. However, for those who have joined as elective students, you might want to make note of the withdrawal deadline,” he girds. “Now that we’re past the fear mongering, we will start the session. We’re starting standard. Clay. First assignment, molding and shaping, then we will delve into pottery. Basic, you’ll get deeper into techniques if you are enrolled in the subject course itself.” 

His tendency to overexplain can overwhelm but you are reassured by your first year. Rogers wasn’t the worst but he had standards. Besides, this is what you’re here for. This isn’t an elective, this is your major. You like this stuff and that makes it a little easier. 

You delve into the first week. After going through some foundational work, Rogers lets the room fall silent. Most students will have a degree of experience from high school or freshman classes. You aren’t entirely lost yourself. 

Professor Rogers makes a round of the room, stopping to chat with each student. You sense him coming close and knead your clay without much purpose. He stops across from you, just on the other side of the table. 

“You’re back?” He says. 

“Wouldn’t you know, I need more than one course for this dang degree,” you kid. 

“Really? Jeez.” He scoffs as he presses his fingertips to the table, “so, how was your summer? Did you go to the beach?” 

Your eyes flick up to his. You remember last year he wasn’t so... casual? You don’t know how to explain it. His hair is a little less neat and he doesn’t sport his usual button-up. You always made note of his expensive shirts and that he didn’t seem to care about the paint stains. This year, he’s in an open canvas jacket and a plain tee. 

“Yeah, but it was overcast. Didn’t feel like mixing that much grey,” you answer. “What about you? Good summer?” 

He shrugs and smiles. Something about it is stiff, “it was a summer. Taught a few interim classes. Nothing special.” 

“Oh, well, summer is overrated.” 

“Is it? Don’t tell me you’re into all that pumpkin spice?” He sniffs. 

“I’m more into winter. I love snow and hot chocolate. Simple tastes.” 

“Very minimalistic,” he praises. “Well,” he taps the table and drags his hands off, “welcome back.” 

“Thank you, Professor.” 

You refocus on the clay as you consider the various objects up for grabs. You could recreate the broken porcelain figure. It reminds you of ancient Greek ruins. Or you could go simple and claim that large silver spoon. Your indecision has always been your greatest obstacle. 

“Alright, so, from here on, you have the rest of the time to work. You’re welcome to pack up and do it in your own time but I highly recommend staying,” Rogers announces to the room. “I am here for your benefit.” 

The class murmurs back at him. Most keep on what they’re doing while a few fidget and wait only ten minutes before they leave. You would have done the same ten years ago but this isn’t just a checkbox on a list. This is you trying to reshape your whole life. You’re done with waitressing. You’re here to learn, to make this into something real. 

Besides, your roommate is a fan of metal music and it doesn’t do well for your creativity. You don’t hate the music but it’s just not the vibe. You press your fingers into the clay and stare off across the room. Your eyes haze as you fall into thought. 

Cerise texted before you got there that she wanted to meet up after and Primrose gave a staunch thumbs up. You missed them too. You can’t wait to catch up. You can only say so much over texts. 

You smile as you think of them. Your little ragtag trio. Cerise, the youngest, who always manages to get lost wherever she goes and Primrose who only ever knows exactly where she needs to be and what needs to be done. You’re the oldest, the maternal light that keeps the younger from wandering too far and the other from overthinking her coffee order. 

Your vision clears as you sense movement. You blink as you find yourself staring at Professor Rogers. Oops. You give a sheepish smile and put your head down. As much care as you put into others, you often forget yourself. While everyone assumes you have it all figured out, and you would think that you would at your age, you are just another student muddling through to graduation day. 

[delicatebarness]

the manuscript | chapter four

Summary: Peter gets a win.

Warnings: Age Gap. (Dr Barnes: late 40s & Reader: early 20s). Smut. Voyeurism. Exhibitionism. Smoking.

Word Count: 1408

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A/N: This got me. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: @mostlymarvelgirl | @mrsnikstan | @angelbabyyy99 | @kaithesimps-blog | @julvrs

Your mind buzzed with intensity as you stepped out of Dr. Barnes’ office and into the library. Wandering, aimlessly through the shelves, the weight of his words echoed in your mind. The only sound in the library was the soft shuffles of pages and the occasional whisper. 

Near the back, you spotted Peter sitting at a table, head buried in a textbook. Suddenly, the urge to escape and let go of the tension washed over you. Giving the room a quick glance, you ensured no one was watching as you made your way over to your boyfriend. A mischievous smile plays on your lips. 

Leaning down, placing a kiss lightly on his cheeks, you whispered. “Wanna take a break?” 

A delighted expression spread across his features as he looked up. “Sure,” he replied, closing his textbook with a thud. “What did you have in mind?” 

Without a word, you took his hand and led him further back into the library. Anticipation built with each step as a thrill ran through you. You knew this was reckless and impulsive, but you couldn’t resist the pull. 

Once you reached a secluded corner, hidden from view, you pulled Peter into a heated, desperate kiss. Your hand began to roam over his chest and shoulders, eagerly. And, his touch grew bolder, fingers teasingly trailing lower.

After a few moments of losing yourself in the sensation, the library faded into the background. Until, out of nowhere, there was a shift in the air, causing you to pause.

Another jolt of electricity rushed through you as you opened your eyes. Standing at the end of the aisle, obscured by shadows, was Dr. Barnes himself. Unwavering his intense gaze, as if he was drinking and absorbing every detail of the scene before him. 

You got lost in the new charge in the atmosphere, your pulse quickening as you realized that Dr. Barnes was witnessing your intimate moment. Peter’s hands explored beneath your clothes, the familiar touch, as his fingers traced patterns across your skin. Testing the limits of your audacity, you locked your gaze onto Dr. Barnes’ 

Pulling Peter closer, the smirk widened across your lips as you refused to break the gaze. Silently, you challenged him to intervene. Peter’s fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your underwear, drawing a soft gasp from your lips. Though Peter’s desire was palpable, it was Dr. Barnes’ presence that grew your arousal. Arching against Peter’s touch, you felt a thrill of exhibitionism.

He remained impassive, an unreadable expression over his features, yet his stare spoke volumes. It was a silent command to explore the depths of your desire and venture into uncharted territories of surrender. 

Peter quickened his rhythm, fingers moving in and out of you relentlessly, driving you closer to the edge, for the first time in months. The silent participant in your act pushed you to a new height of arousal. Your breathing grew ragged as your heart pounded. 

Letting out a low, throaty moan, you were unable to hold back any longer. Your mouth fell open as you teetered on the edge of ecstasy. Yet, it was Dr. Barnes’ steady gaze that pushed you over. 

With a final, shuddering yelp, you came undone. Your body began to convulse with the force of the release. Your eyes closed as waves of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you breathless. Clinging to Peter, your fingers dug into his shoulders as he slowed his pace, riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm.

As you slowly returned to yourself, you glanced up, only for Dr. Barnes to have disappeared. 

Remnants of your pleasure continued to tingle through your body, your breath came in heavy pants as you stayed clung to Peter. He gently caressed you back as his eyes filled with concern, grounding you after an intense high. You smiled weakly at him, trying to convey that you were okay, even if you were exhilarated. 

“We should probably get back,” Peter whispered, gently placing a kiss against your temple. “Before someone sees us.” 

You nodded, straightening your clothes as Peter smoothed your hair. Soft whispers and rustles of pages indicated the life that continued as normal outside the secluded bookshelves. 

Your mind still buzzed from the events as you made your way back to the table. The image of Dr. Barnes standing, watching you, his unyielding gaze replayed over and over your mind. Sitting beside Peter, as he picked up his textbook and resumed reading, you couldn’t help but wonder. Where had D. Barnes gone? What did he think of what he had seen? Had he even been there at all?

~

You found it impossible to focus, your thoughts returning to D. Barnes and the thrill he had ignited within you. The memory of his blue, piercing eyes on you as they stared, sent a shiver down your spine. Shifting in your seat, you tried to quell the persistent heat between your thighs. 

No longer could you sit there, you leaned over to Peter, whispering to him. “I need to go to the restroom.” 

Nodding, he gave you a small smile before returning to his textbook. Walking towards the library’s exit, your heart pounded against your chest with each step. Once outside, you headed down the hallways, the restroom no longer in your mind. 

Unsure of your destination, you continued through the quiet hallways. Before you knew it, you were standing at the entrance to the parking lot. The afternoon air cooled your heated cheeks, calming the fire within you. Then, you spotted him, out of the corner of your eyes. Dr. Barnes.

A cigarette in hand as he stood by his car, composed and inscrutable as ever. Your heart raced as you gathered your courage and walked over to him. His eyes narrowed slightly as he met your gaze, exhaling a plume of smoke. 

“Miss Spector,” he said, his voice low and controlled, the tone that caused your cheeks to flush again. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Taking a deep breath, you try to avoid his gaze. “May I ask you something?” 

Taking another drag of his cigarette, he regarded you with a curious expression. “What’s on your mind?” 

“I couldn’t help but wonder,” you asked, finally meeting his gaze cautiously, “if someone like you ever has… crushes?” 

A smirk tugged at his lips, exhaling as he considered your question. “A crush?” he repeated thoughtfully, his gaze penetrating as you gave him a small nod. “I’m far too old for mere crushes, Miss Spector… I crave.” 

His admission surprised you, heightening the intrigue inside you. “Have you ever acted on… your cravings?” you pressed as your curiosity piqued. 

His eyes held yours with a knowing look. “Rarely,” he replied cryptically, his voice deep. “But when I do, it’s with purpose.” 

You took a step closer, the tension between you growing. “And, what advice would you give someone who wants to experience that kind of purpose?” you asked, watching as he stubbed out his cigarette. 

He considered your question as his gaze flickered to your lips for a moment. “Advice?” he murmured thoughtfully, his voice gravelly. “Don’t hesitate when an opportunity presents itself. Embrace it fully. Let go of inhibitions, Miss Spector.” 

A stir of desire sends a thrill through you, the desire to explore the boundaries of restraint. The space between you narrowed as you drew closer to him until you could feel the warmth radiating from him. 

“And what if…” your voice whispered. “What if someone were to act on their cravings here and now?” 

Dr. Barnes’ lips curved, his eyes darkening a deeper shade of blue with a mixture of amusement and something more primal. “Then, they should be prepared for the consequences,” he replied, his tone suggestive as he gazed down at your lips for another moment. 

The implications of his words caused your heart to race. The invitation was daring, and the allure of the forbidden dance between you stretched out with anticipation. 

Before either of you could say, or do more, you heard footsteps begin to echo through the parking lot. His expression remains composed as he glances toward the approaching sound behind you. 

Taking a step back, you cleared your throat. “I should… I should get back,” you muttered suddenly aware of the risk you had tempted. 

He nodded slowly, taking a sip of his coffee before speaking. “Yes, of course,” he replied, his voice steady. “Until next time, Miss Spector.”

---

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[mkpersephone]

Whenever my favorite character is going through a hard time or the writers are doing him injustice, I just close my eyes and say to myself:

Well, at least Spiderman fans are having it worse than me.

And then suddenly... I feel better.

[theshadowrealmitself]

Once again thinking about Peter making some kind of nutrient machine that figures out exactly what each individual person it scans needs (because I keep blanking on cool science stuff he could make) and provides them supplements and stuff

And rn I’m currently thinking about Professor X funding the research (as an anonymous donor) because something like that would really help mutant children the best

And I was thinking about how they’d test that it would work and it led to me thinking about Flash Thompson signing up for an experimental study for money (because they’d need all types of people to test it out) and he finds out the guy he used to bully is running the whole thing, looking like a mad scientist, telling him how it’s being anonymously funded but he’ll still get his money, y’know, just creepy vibes all around

And as he’s the most terrified he’s ever been, considering running out, he finds out he just needs to be scanned, and then follow whatever instructions and take whatever supplements the machine spits out for a certain amount of time to see if it is beneficial to his health