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atrwriting · 6 months

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bffs -- alpha!peter parker x omega!reader

hi everyone :) I know this is different than what I usually write, but like I had to lol. you'll see just trust me

as always, warnings: filthy unapologetic smut, alpha x omega relations, unprotected sex (wrap it y'all), dom!peter, sex between friends

anyways...

your heat had come.

you knew it. for days, you knew it would come. there was nothing you could do to prevent such a violent attack on your senses, mind, and body — especially since there was no alpha that you would or could think to call to help you for a couple of days.

that type of… agreement required a lot of things. one, you had to be able to trust the alpha. they would have to be able to hold back their own urges to not injure you or claim you, and they would have to understand that this was an arrangement — not a relationship. that agreement also factored in how you would basically be bedridden and useless for a few days, needed to be absolutely coked out on oxytocin, and needed to be reminded to eat and drink for a few days. there were no alphas that came to mind when going over all of these requirements in your head.

well… that’s a lie, if you’re being frank with yourself.

there was one.

there was one, but he was off limits. completely off limits.

peter parker.

peter parker was your best friend, all throughout college. you studied different things, but had a few core classes together. that led to you staying close all throughout college and post grad. you weren’t exactly sure why you had hit it off so well, given the fact that he could be a bit goofy at times, always ran off to do something secretive, and was still in love with an ex that he wouldn’t cough up the name to. you didn’t even really understand how he could be an alpha — he could be quite nervous and not confident with his thought process or actions, but you surmised that made him more agreeable to be friends with. he didn’t have an ego, even though he was an impressive individual, and that’s why you admired him.

however, when you did think about him as an alpha… that was when the lines of friendship were crossed. all you could think about were the state of his eyes looked when he was focusing on something he deemed worthy of his attention. they would darken, and he would not tear himself away from the task until it was completed. before he was satisfied, there was a permanent crease on his forehead and between his brow. his lips would part slightly, and every so often his tongue would drag across his lips before his teeth tugged his bottom lip into his mouth. when he especially got frustrated with a task, he would do all of those things at once while he would lean back in his chair and deeply sigh. his impressive chest and arm muscles would be taut and on full display as he dragged his large, open hands throughout his hair and closed his eyes for a moment. you weren’t sure what was going on between those closed eyes in his brief moment of relief, but when they opened… nothing could stop peter parker.

fuck, you thought. i have to stop.

just thinking about peter like that made something twist and turn in your abdomen. part of you knew you were pathetic by how creepy and easy it was to rile you up if peter working was what got you, but you couldn’t care — not in this state.

that was when your phone buzzed.

annoyed, you grabbed your phone and the screen illuminated.

peter: still on for today?

fuck, you thought.

you: can’t. i’m sorry. something came up.

three dots appeared, and then disappeared. you immediately felt bad for cancelling on such short notice, especially to someone as sweet as peter. you hoped he wasn’t upset or angry with you. the three dots, signaling he was typing, then reappeared.

peter: you okay? what’s up?

fuck, fuck, fuck. you were and always strived to be punctual and considerate, and he knew that. he knew you would never cancel on him unless something was wrong. damn you for being such a good person, and damn parker for being so perceptive and an even better person. fucking christ…

you: i don’t feel well today. i’m really sorry

peter: no worries, feel better :)

you sent a quick thank you before clicking your phone off and rolling back into bed. you wrapped yourself in the covers, the shape resembling a burrito, and tried to sleep the best you could. the air conditioner was blasting as high as it could and the sheets were cool and crisp against your skin. your heat was not at its peak, thankfully, and because of that you were able to find some sleep for the next few hours.

that is… until you woke up.

to a fucking knock at the door.

startled, you ripped the covers off of you and whipped your head towards the door of your studio apartment. there was a person outside, as you could see from the shadow of two feet underneath the door. the person was whistling a tune you had heard before, and only one person usually whistled it…

fucking peter.

you adjusted your shorts and cropped shirt before hopping out of bed. you hadn’t smelled him yet, so you thought you would be able to handle a small interaction with him before politely kicking him out.

you opened the door, and immediately regretted the decision.

there stood peter with a small smile on his face, and food in hand. he was clad in a flannel, dark shirt and jeans, and thick boots made for walking in the city. his hair was perfectly tousled back, and his attractive face was on full display.

as was how delicious he smelled.

“fuck —!” you gasped, rolling away from the door to hide from the doorway’s view. you pressed yourself against a wall in your apartment. “peter — you shouldn’t —“

“what’s wrong?” he asked, immediately stepping into your apartment and in front of you.

god… he must’ve thought you looked so pathetic. there was a light sheen of sweat on your skin, skimpy pajamas, and your styled hair was ruffled from last night’s sleep. you were breathing quickly, with any part of your body you could manage pressed against the cool drywall.

he hurriedly placed down the food on a neighboring counter, and stepped towards you. “sweetheart, are you —“

“don’t,” you snapped sadly. “yes.”

“did you call anyone?” he asked, almost accusatory.

you shook your head as your body trembled.

“it’s dangerous not to,” he curtly reminded.

“i know, i know… ” you whispered softly.

“what can i —“ he began, not really sure knowing how to continue. “can i help with anything?”

you shook your head. “peter — you have to go — you smell so good and it’s — it hurts so bad, peter.”

the pain of desire and arousal spread from your core, to your womb, to your chest, and every single one of your limbs. you felt the top layer of your skin begin to buzz, and you whined at the feeling. you tried not to breathe through your nose, because when you did… every single muscle fiber in your body was screaming at you to reach for peter and ask him to help.

but your feet remained planted… just barely.

peter’s jaw clenched as his eyes drifted up and down your body. “...you smell good, too.”

your eyes immediately flicked up to his face, your expression wild. “don’t imply anything like that to me in this state. i have no control, and i don’t want to make you uncomfortable, peter — you’re my friend. please, peter, you should —“

“who said you were making me uncomfortable?” he took a small step towards you once more.

you stared into his eyes.

they were dark.

they were dark, and focused... just how you liked them.

you whined in pain, trying to mask it as a hum but failed.

“the question is...” he began. “am i making you uncomfortable?”

you tried to control of your labored breathing, but it was difficult when his scent invaded every single one of your senses. “no, peter, but —“

“would you want this,” he gestured his hand between the two of you, “if you weren’t in heat?”

you couldn’t stop yourself. you nodded in agreement, and looked down to the floor in shame. tears began to leak from your eyes at the pain that sent shockwaves all throughout your body. it was growing more and more difficult to remain upright.

“then what’s the problem, sweetheart?” he asked in his new york drawl. “you want me to take care of you?”

“fuck…” you seethed, his words scratching at every itch you had in your body. “you can’t say th-things like that, peter…”

“why not?” he asked, feigning innocence. “want me to stop?”

you didn’t answer.

he took one more step, and you could’ve crumbled then and there. “or do you want me to keep going?”

you sobbed, “i do.”

part of you thought that was all of the permission he needed to jump your bones, but he didn’t. he remained in his place, before he asked you another question.

“tell me what you’re worried about before we do that,” he ordered softly.

the command made your knees buckle, but you stayed standing as you sucked in sharp breaths of air. you wiped at your tears, trying to hold onto whatever sense you still possessed. “i don’t want to mess up our friendship — and i don’t even know if you would want this if i wasn’t like this —“

“baby, i’ve wanted you for a long time,” he answered lowly. his eyes were dark as he folded his lip into his mouth, licking the skin. “we can talk about it after, i promise, but right now… sweetheart, let me take care of you.”

something broke within you, and your knees buckled. “oh, peter…”

peter’s quick reflexes caused him to catch you before you fell, and he immediately pulled you up. you felt like you were floating then, finally in the arms of an alpha that seemed trustworthy. you felt his strong hand gently press against the base of your skull, and nudge you slightly into the crook of his neck. immediately, his scent hit you.

it felt like you were provided the sustenance you needed to at least be present in the moment once more. your heat had almost caused you to pass out, but being able to smell and lick at peter’s scent glands woke you up enough so that you were able to be aware of your surroundings and give into the carnal urge of taking the pleasure offered. peter held you upright and let out soft moans as you scented him, rubbing your back as you continued.

“fuck, you smell — that feels so good,” he rasped, his voice lowering. “so sweet.”

suddenly, peter’s fingers on the back of your neck tightened around your strands of hair and lifted your head back slightly. you broke from his skin with a gasp, saddened to have been taking away from the comfort you were provided, but then… it was peter’s turn.

he lowered his head to your scent glands and began sucking on the skin. you threw your head back into his hand and moaned into the open air above your head. you couldn’t see peter in your peripheral, but you knew his eyes were closed with a firm crease between his brow as his lips formed the perfect position to suck at your sweet and supple skin. the pressure was hard, and it hurt, but it was so fucking welcome. the electric shocks of pain were gone, and now were replaced with mind-numbing lust that made you selfish. you knew he would want some time scenting you as well, but you couldn’t let him. you needed him now.

“please, peter,” you whined. “i need you now, please…”

he chuckled against your skin, and pressed his flat tongue on the base of your neck and dragged it all the way up to your jaw. you gasped at the sensation before he planted a wet kiss by your ear. “you’re going to tell the alpha what to do, sweetheart, that it?”

you almost would’ve giggled and been playful back if you weren’t so consumed with desire. “i’m begging you, peter — please do something. it hurts so bad.”

“oh, you needy little thing…” he cooed before a heavy, large hand slipped its way into your shorts. “in these tiny little shorts…”

when peter finally slipped in fingers along your folds, you jumped in his hold. he chuckled darkly against your earlobe, which immediately melted you against him. you were putty to him then — a lust-numb omega who would do anything for him to make her feel good.

“so wet for me,” he rasped. “i was so mad at you when you told me you didn’t call someone — didn’t call me —“

“i’m sorry…” you whined. “please don’t stop…”

“oh, sweetheart, you feel so good i don’t think i could,” he spoke lowly. “you were so wrong not to call, but a pretty and needy thing like you doesn’t to deserve to be in pain like this, does she?”

you shook your head pathetically, tears coming to your eyes. “no, peter — please take the pain away.”

“i know, baby, i know…” he rasped once more as the pads of his middle and ring finger flattened against your bud, drawing rough circles. “you going to be good for me, now? tell me what you need?”

you pushed against his hand that held your head upright as the pleasure of his movements filled your womb with an intense feeling of warmth. you began to tremble in his arms, letting out small, pleased sighs… but you had ignored his question, and peter didn’t like that.

he slipped his hand away from your clit, and began to stroke the outside, drenched lips of your core.

“peter…” you begged in frustration, turning your head to look at him. you had never seen his eyes so fucking dark and focused — and full of desire. “peter — you promised.”

he laughed darkly. “i’ll keep my promise, if you promise to be good for me.”

“i’ll be so good for you,” you practically whined, eyes going wide and lips parting. “i promise i’ll be good for you, peter… i promise i won’t upset you again.”

“good fucking girl.”

immediately, he shoved his two fingers inside your entrance and pressed his thumb against your clit. before you could react, his mouth was on yours and stifled the moans that left your pretty lips. he shoved his tongue in your mouth, and the feeling of being so full made you whine in pleasure passed his lips. he swallowed your moans whole as he dragged the soda of his fingers in rough circles around your bud.

“oh, alpha…” you cried into him. “i needed this so badly. please keep going, please…”

“still don’t trust me?” he chuckled, slipping in his tongue to tangle with you. “trust your alpha, baby, i got you.”

...and trust you did.

peter immediately let go of you so he could lift you up by the back of your thighs. the pads of his finger dig deliciously into your flesh and the warmth of his body pressed so tightly against yours provided you so much comfort. you began to suck at his neck as he had done to yours, and a deep rumble sounded within his rib cage.

he was fast as he went for your bed, laying you down on the edge. you went to raise yourself and reach for him, but he wouldn’t allow it. with a smirk, he ordered you back down on the bed. begrudgingly, you pouted and laid back down.

peter took his time taking off his clothes, layer by layer, as he gazed down at you. a small circle of slick was collected by your shorts, embarrassment rising to your cheeks. you bit your lip as you gazed at his bare upper body. for a nerd, peter’s thick muscles were some of the most mouth-watering things you had ever seen. his shoulders, his traps, his biceps, his forearms — he was killing you as you stared at him, not allowing you to touch him.

maintaining eye contact, he fell to his knees on the floor. he was face to face with your clothed cunt and open thighs, but his eyes were on you. only you.

“don’t take your eyes off me, sweetheart,” he ordered. “do that for me?”

you nodded meekly.

he spread your folds so that nothing was standing in the way of him and your clit. almost immediately, his thick, wet tongue was working at where you were most sensitive. it was growing harder and harder to keep your eyes open and not throw your head back, lost in pleasure, but you kept your promise to him. you had folded your lips underneath each other to keep yourself upright and tamed, but you did what he asked.

what got you the most, though… was the fact that peter parker looked lost in a dream-like state as he ate you out. his eyes drifted closed and there was no crease in his forehead as tongue made the sweetest movements against your clit. one of his strong hands held one of your thighs in place, preventing you from moving either, when his other hand lifted up. he slid two fingers easily into you, and immediately started curling them and pressing them upwards into the wall inside you.

“oh my —“ your voice cracked as your eyes threatened to close. “god — christ — peter —“

you were barely making sense at this point. your hips were trying to roll against peter, but he held you down and in place. eventually, he pressed a flat hand against your lower abdomen and you thought you saw fucking stars. immediately… you threw your head back against the bed in defeat, writhing and on the verge of crying.

“hey,” he immediately snapped, taking his tongue off of you and rising so he was bent over you. “what did i say?”

with a whimper, you raised yourself to your elbows and looked at him shamefully. “to keep my eyes on you.”

his movements were halted, but his hand on your stomach felt so good as his fingers inside of you were still pressed against your upper wall and frozen in place. “was goin’ to be nice, but now i don’t think i am.”

he gave you a wet and sloppy kiss, but almost immediately withdrew as he kept his face inches from yours. you reached for his neck, holding the back of his head like he had held yours by the front door.

“please,” you whimpered. “i’m sorry… when you put your fingers inside me, and pressed down on my stomach… it just felt so good. please, don’t stop —“

you were on the verge of sobbing as he dangled what you wanted in front of your face. a smirk crept up onto his face, and you knew you were in for it. “felt too good for you, baby, that it?”

“i didn’t want it to stop,” you whimpered again, bucking your hips against his hand. “peter…”

“since you didn’t want to listen,” he began, slowly moving his fingers inside you once more. hummed in enjoyment, but kept your gaze on his face. “you only get my fingers for now. eye contact, or i take them away and leave. got it?”

“yes, yes.” you nodded frantically, twisting the ends of his hair in your fingers. “please, i’ll listen now.”

that was until his fingers started moving faster and harder.

his lips were mere inches from yours, but you were scared that if you kissed him that would obstruct your line of sight from his. you kept your distance, even though it was three inches, and tried your best to listen to him as peter absolutely wrecked the inside of you.

the sounds that left your lips were so fucking pathetic that it brought a deep blush to the tips of your cheeks. your womb felt like it was coming to life as peter worked and worked your sweetest and deepest parts, while pressing down on your stomach which only heightened the sensations.

“it feels so good…” you whined, tears feeling like they were going to spring from your eyes. “feels so good i could cry.”

“take it for me, baby,” he hoarsely said, eyes the darkest you had ever seen them. “show your alpha what a good girl you can be.”

he slipped a third finger in, and you were fucking gone.

he stretched you painfully and perfectly that you couldn’t stop the tear or two that leaked from your eye. your throat went hoarse with the pleasured gasps and sounds you were making, but your eyes never left peter’s unless it was to blink away the tears.

“that good, baby?” he taunted with a smirk. “making you feel that good?”

you hummed in approval, nodding pathetically. sobs left your lips as your nerve endings felt like they were shooting lightning. peter was fucking you with his hand like his life depended on it — like your life depended on it. your hips were struggling to writhe under the weight of his palm and all you could do was tell the man before you how good he was making you feel. his smirk and the lust in his eyes grew before his thumb began to draw circles on your clit.

you saw white.

you couldn’t help it — you had to close your eyes. nothing could stop them from slamming shut as your orgasm overtook your mind, body, senses, fucking everything as it flooded through your veins, warming every part of your being. it was warm, it was comforting, and it was fucking everything to you in that moment. you pressed your forehead against peter’s and just fucking sobbed.

“that’s it, baby,” he cooed. “that’s it.”

you whined in approval at his words and how his movements did not stop as you rode out your orgasm.

“such a good girl, taking everything i give you…” he pressed a wet kiss to the side of your face. “i know, sweetheart, i know… just keep cumming for me.”

you were shaking as you rode out their last wave of your orgasm before you smashed your lips to peter’s. it was sloppy, the way your tongues tangled with each other. his fingers still played gently inside of you as you shivered, moving away from his hands.

“you sensitive, baby?” he laughed. “can’t take it?”

your teeth sank into your lip as you shook your head. “need your cock, peter. please.”

he immediately straightened and stood up. you were sat on the bed, arms fully locked and extended behind you, with your knees bent and feet planted on either side of the bed. your pussy was drenched with your own juices, leaking down into the once perfectly clean sheets. your cheeks blushed as you gazed up at the man before you through your thick lashes.

“greedy girl,” he stated lowly, returning your gaze. you watched his long fingers unlatch his belt before you helped him pull his pants and boxers down. “your hips were fighting me so badly, baby. what? you wanna get on top?”

part of you was taken by surprise. it was common among omegas and alphas to fuck in missionary or from behind, and you were expecting that. however, part of you grew excited at the thought of having control and being able to take whatever you wanted. you smirked up at the man.

“can i?” you asked innocently. “want to feel you as deep as possible.”

he chuckled darkly before he laid back against your headboard. it was mesmerizing to see peter parker, the most accomplished man on this planet, smirk at you with such confidence. you wasted no time in swinging a leg over his hips and rushed to have him inside you.

you positioned him at your entrance, and immediately sank downwards.

if you had gone slower, the pain may have dissipated, but you needed that stretch as you lowered yourself. there was something to fucking erotic about the man below you being so big that even after being fucked by his three fingers, drenching you, you still craved that bittersweet sensation of being too small for him.

and he felt it, too.

“pussy still so tight for me,” he rasped. “you’re too good for me, aren’t you?”

you giggled at him before you began to roll your hips against him. the tip of his cock was pressed against a spot inside you that you could never dream of reaching, and it was something electrifying. it sent shivers up and down your spine, and all you could think about was how much you loved him buried inside of you.

suddenly, he sent a small slap on your ass. you gasped, and began to move faster and rougher against him.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” he grunted, hands now resting on your waist as he rolled your lower body with his. he pumped his hips upwards to meet yours, and those small whimpers began to leave your lips once again. “that’s more like it, baby. i know what that pussy needs.”

this entire time, peter had been focused on what your heat-dazed mind and body needed… and you couldn’t have cared less about what he needed. you didn’t even listen to him before, for chrissakes… you needed to be better — and you knew just the thing.

you planted one hand in front of you on his pelvis, and reached the other behind you to cup his balls. they were heavy in your hand, and your core tightened at the sensation. he let out one of the loudest and surprised moans you had ever heard in your life. it was music to your ears, and sent sparks right to your pussy. you clenched around him as he threw his head back, closing his eyes and scrunching his brow together as his lips parted in ecstasy. you rolled your hand and your hips at the same time and threw your head back. moans and whines were leaving your lips like no one could hear you, like there was no one in the world besides you and peter.

suddenly, peter pulled you towards him so you were practically pressed front to front. you continued to smash your hips with his and roll his balls in your hand as your next orgasm quickly approached. his face was at level with your breasts, which he greedily accepted the view of. he brought one hand up to roll one of your nipples between his fingers, while he roughly sucked on the other. your senses went crazy then, and all you knew was to drive your hips up and down and front and back to ensure peter’s cock never left your pussy.

“your cock’s so big, alpha,” you whined. “makes me feel so good…”

“being such a good girl for me,” he groaned against your chest, breath hot on your skin. “your alpha’s so proud of you.”

“oh, fuck, fuck, fuck —“ it was all growing too much, the pleasure. your head felt like you were swimming, and your hips were growing sloppy.

peter noticed immediately, smiling menacingly. “you got too greedy, hmm?” he threw you off of him, back flat on the bed, and you gasped in surprise. “need you to take my knot, baby. your pussy is just too good.”

he bent your thighs backwards, so your feet were in the air close to your head. immediately, he shoved his long and thick cock inside you. the head of his cock was red and angry, and you gasped as you watched it enter you and felt it press against your upper walls once more. peter planted two strong arms on either side of you as the veins in his arms made an appearance, looking more pronounced than ever. his hips were snapping against yours, and you lost all control at that moment.

“finish inside me, alpha,” you begged. “need your knot so badly.”

"oh, fuck —"

immediately, peter wrapped your hair around his fist and pulled you taut to him. you were clinging onto him for dear life — the very sustenance that he promised to give you and was giving to you tenfold. whiny, pathetic breaths and gasps were shoving past your lips and were music to peter's ears. he could practically hear, feel, taste, see, fucking sense your orgasm creeping up on you, holding you hostage. he needed to make you finish, he had to. he had to because you were in need, sure — but on some level, on some animalistic, carnal level — he needed to see you in a state of pure bliss for his own selfish need.

and he knew just what you needed.

peter immediately attached his lips to your scent glands on your neck and sucked as hard as he could. his hips drove themselves against yours, and he himself fell victim to the fall of immense pleasure. it blindfolded him and shoved him straightforward, backwards, sideways — he didn't know... he couldn't tell. all peter knew was that when he came as hard as he did, he felt his knot growing and latching itself inside you... and that's when he knew.

your tight, sopping wet pussy clenched around his knot and you came with a scream. every ounce of pain you had felt over the course of the day had left you. you were a stranger to it, any kind of pain. the only thing you knew was peter and his warm skin that felt so good against yours. your hips thrashed against his, unable to deal with the pleasure, but his strength held you down so you could not shy away from the immense relief you were so grateful for.

"good girl..." he growled. "such a good fucking girl..."

everything went black... but you knew you were safe. you were always safe with your best friend.

---

the end. hehe

-L xo

#Peter parker #spiderman #marvel au #Spiderman au #Peter Parker au #tom holland #alpha spiderman #alpha Peter parker #omega verse #alpha Peter #Peter Parker smut #Peter Parker imagine #Peter Parker fit

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rodolfoparras · 8 months

Text

Pillow talk

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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