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takenbyheartstrings · 2 years

Text

DANCE LITTLE LIAR.

summary: you and Peter are enemies, but something happens one night. It's the night that everything changed between you and Peter. You're trying to forget what happened. But Peter won't let you run... not anymore.

pairing: enemies to lovers! peter parker x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT (extended warnings under the cut), mentions of blood, mentions of cheating, fluff, mostly angsty?, i probably missed something so sorry if i did :(

word count: 10.1k (2.4k is smut <3)

authors note: hi! sorry for the lack of fics :( writers block has been on my ASS, but i managed to pull this through <3 AND IT'S ANOTHER ENEMIES TO LOVERS FIC, so i hope you enjoy :)

inspired by DANCE LITTLE LIAR by ARCTIC MONKEYS.

extended smut warnings: PROTECTED sex (p in v), fingering, oral (fem), minor praise kink, idk this is pretty vanilla JKSDFKJSDF.

Your days had been long and strung out – there was nothing exciting. There was nothing there for you to grasp. There was nothing there for you to take or be excited for. You had no goals, and your life was basically the definition of mediocre. Maybe that’s why you were friends with someone you hated. Maybe that’s why the two of you were in the middle of this constant game of cat and mouse. It was confusing and it was addicting. The two of you flirted and the two of you argued and nobody would ever dare to stand in the way of that. People had just gotten used to it.

There wasn’t a reason for the hate. It sort of just happened. Like you took one look at Peter and decided you were going to hate him for the rest of your life. Never let there be a waking moment where he wouldn’t think about your next quip. Never a moment where he would catch a blink of sleep because he was thinking about something you had said to him. It was hopeless and the two of you were pathetic for it, but that’s the way your relationship had just panned out to be. You were in the place you had wanted to put Peter and Peter was in that place for you.

When your boyfriend cheated on you, he told you in spite that you had deserved it and when his girlfriend had done the same with your boyfriend you told him that it was karma. Somehow the world just keeps taking things away from you and pitting the two of you against each other, but also bringing you closer.

You wouldn’t say you’d trust Peter with anything. But there was a layer there the two of you had yet to unpack. It was vulnerability. You would never let Peter Parker see you fucking cry. You’d never dare to let that happen and if you did it would be over your own dead body. That vulnerability would open you and Peter up to so many things – if you stopped hating Peter you wouldn’t be sure what would get you excited for the day or what would happen to your relationship and it scared you, because as fucked up as it is, he is the one constant in your life that just keeps you going every day. He is the reason you wake up every morning and for all the wrong reasons.

Your breath hitches as the club lights flash around you all. Harry had dragged you to this new nightclub and you were already on your fourth drink, drowning out everything Peter had said to you the night before. You wanted to forget what happened with him and you wanted to move on... but how could you? He’d said something last night that would change everything... but if it had, he wasn’t letting it show.

Your dress was tiny and black. Your boobs were on display, and you were fucking plastered. Your body moving with the music, against another man’s body. You didn’t know who he was but the drunk version of you didn’t give a fuck, because you were dancing and forgetting, forgetting everything that happened.

You turn to face the man and he is a handsome stranger. Brown hair, brown eyes, and a daring smile that your lips are begging to kiss. You don’t know where your friends have gone, and this stranger you’re dancing with is paying you all the attention you need. You sling your arms over his shoulders and your lips intertwine as the two of you continue to kiss, his hands trail down your body and you can feel eyes on you – except for the fact that they’re not the eyes of the man you’re kissing, but from a far. You drunkenly pull away and look around the club, searching for any sign of who was watching you. Maybe you’re imagining things or maybe they knew that you were going to look for them. Whatever the case, it didn’t matter anymore. This man had moved on to someone else.

You pouted your lip and turned toward the bar, stumbling over your own feet ordering another drink and placing it on Harry’s tab. Michelle had found you and pulled you and your drink to the roof. You saw all your friends sitting there around a table and the air hit you, making you sober up a little bit, but the sip of your drink took you right back to where you had started.

You made eye contact with Peter and his jaw was clenched as he watched you sit down. This was a typical move for you – getting plastered like this. He wanted to snap you out of it. You were an annoying fucking drunk, and he was always left to take care of you because everyone was always in the same position as you and the fucking spider-bite had graced him with the ability to not be able to get anywhere near drunk. Not tipsy. Not drunk. Nothing. Sometimes he wished he could be like you. Drink to forget. But he envies the fact that he can’t so he wishes you would just stop.

As all of you sorted out who would be in what car, you were in Peters, Harry was sober enough to take home Mary Jane and MJ was good to take Felicia and Betty back.

How had you always gotten stuck with him? He wasn’t sure. Maybe everyone was still trying to create a friendship between the two of you, even if you both avidly spoke out against it. You didn’t want to be his friend and he didn’t want to be yours, yet they kept pushing the two of you together as if one day that would magically change.

You sigh, brushing your hair out of your face as the window sits open, it’s too hot not to keep it open and the air con in Peter’s car was broken. Something you’d learnt one of the first times you’d been in here. You looked over at Peter and the water bottle he’d stopped at a gas station to buy for you, slowly, but surely you were somewhat sobering up but the window being open helped release some of the tension for you throwing up all over Peter and his car.

You took a sip of water as the song changed. It was a familiar tune, and you didn’t know Peter listened to Arctic Monkeys, assuming it was from his playlist. You went to turn it up, but Peter had beaten you to it. His fingers tapping on the wheel.

You were relaxed. For the first time around Peter, you were actually relaxed. Maybe it was because you were still plastered. Maybe it was the wind. Maybe it was the song. But you didn’t really know. Last night had changed things for the two of you. You didn’t want it to. God, you didn’t want it to be like this. But it was. Right now, it was, and you were seeing the Brightside.

You woke up the next day with a pounding headache. One that could absolutely kill you if it tried and it was nothing short of pain. You had thrown up when you got back to your dorm and MJ had held your hair back. Michelle was a good friend, and you were grateful that you were a part of this group of friends. Despite the way Harry pressures all of you to party all the time. You can’t really complain though, it’s not like you’re spending your own money.

You sighed as you looked at MJ’s door. Her and Harry were probably in there. The lot of you were placed into a suite. Suitemates. Which meant you also lived with Peter. It wasn’t your first choice of roommate, but MJ had said it was cheaper for all six of you to live together so you said okay. A good decision? Maybe. But you hated the fact that you had to wake up to Peter in the kitchen every morning making food for everyone. Sure, it was a nice gesture, and maybe that was the problem. That he was always nice. He never had a break. The only person he took all of his shit out seemed to be you.

“Morning Penis Parker.”

“You smell like vomit.” He comments with a grimace.

You roll your eyes, “Thanks for making me remember.”

Peter hands you a plate of pancakes, drowned in maple syrup – just the way you like them, you narrow your eyes, “Is this poisoned?” You question him.

He scoffs, “Right, because I’d make a whole batch of pancakes and waste food just to poison you. Don’t be so conceded.”

You take a bite of your food, “Tastes good, Parker.” You give a sarcastic smiles, “I think the trash would like it even more.”

“Maybe you were right, though, maybe that’s why it tastes funny.” He smirks, “Or maybe you’ve just got fucked up tastebuds because of all the shit you drank last night.”

You scoff, throwing the pancakes into the bin, “I don’t want your food anyway.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

Your eyes meet Peters and as much as you tried to forget the night. You couldn’t. You couldn’t forget that night. The air was shifting between the two of you. This morning’s banter was shit when it was usually full of fire. Your insults weren’t as hard hitting, and it made you gulp. You were nervous and scared and all you ever wanted was to have it back. Before that stupid night. Because it would change everything if you hadn’t known.

BEFORE

You skipped the party. Like an idiot you skipped the party. This would’ve been avoided if you had just gone. Tonight, was a rare night where you had actually not wanted to go out. Stay in and focus on the work right in front of you so you could get to graduating. You picked at your fingernails as you stare at your laptop and it’s blank document. Trying to figure out what to write. You had to write a creative story as an assignment for your course and it was killing you. You were drowned of inspiration and better yet, your head was pounding from a killer headache that just wouldn’t leave you alone.

Maybe you were stressed. Maybe everything was just starting to finally get to you. Maybe it was starting to eat you up and staring into the void of your blank white document in silence wasn’t helping you at all. Sure, the antibiotics hadn’t kicked in, but even so, if they did, you were sure you wouldn’t notice.

Peter hadn’t gone to the party tonight either. He usually goes and leaves halfway through, coming back at the end. He’s usually the one who takes you home. You’re not sure what he does in between the time he leaves and you’re not quite sure you really want to know.

Your fingers began to type, and you had only realised a few seconds in that you were typing random words from slapping your hands over the keys. Writer’s block wasn’t a great look for anyone.

You stood up from your desk and made your way into the kitchen. A glass of water ought to help, you had thought to yourself. Desperately looking for any excuse to procrastinate. But that’s when you heard a thump from Peter’s room and a groan afterwards. Peter hadn’t been here. His door had been open, and you saw he wasn’t in there so why did he come through the window and not the front door, if that even was him. You wanted to assume it was but maybe you were being burgled.

You went over to Peter’s door to see him lying on the floor in red and blue spandex. Your eyes went wide. Either he was doing this for his own pleasure, or he was actually spider-man. You’d hoped it would be the first option but the cuts on his face and the way he was clutching onto his abdomen for dear life was concerning so you rushed by his side. Any thought of hate flying out the window. You were making a mistake. He didn’t see you till now.

Maybe this was all your fault. Maybe the fact that everything changed had been on you. It was on you. Peter looks into your eyes and groans again. But he chooses to ignore the blind hatred the two of you share. Desperately he points to his closet.

“There’s a first aid kit in there, I- fuck!-” He groans in pain as you watch him turn over once more, tears running down his face, “Fuck, there’s gauze and bandages in there.”

You don’t say anything, all you can do is make your way to the closet – your mind isn’t filled with hatred. No. No. No. It’s filled with worry. What would’ve happened if you weren’t here? What would’ve happened to Peter if you weren’t here to patch him up?

“Fuck, Peter, what? What happened?” You ask as you grab the first aid kit from the closet as Peter tries to lift himself onto his bed, his spandex was now off, and he was left in a pair of boxer briefs. You didn’t care right now. You didn’t care that he was basically naked on the bed because there was a gash. A large fucking gash over his stomach.

He throws his head back keeping his hand on his wound. His hand is covered in blood and his suit ruined. He was Spider-Man, and you were using his name. You were saying Peter and neither of you had caught onto it yet but you were desperate to help him. As he groans in pain unable to answer.

“Okay Peter, this website- it says we need to get this wound under running water, because if I use antiseptic, it’ll damage your skin.” You inform him and he shakes his head.

“No. The skin will heal fine.” He says through his teeth, “The spider-bite, it gave me the power to h-heal tomorrow this’ll be gone, but I can’t handle this right now so just patch it up. It hurts, please, y/n.” He begs you, “Please.” There are tears down both of your faces at this point and you nod.

“Okay, this might... it might hurt, okay?” You say through your tears and Peter can only nod at your words.

As you take an alcohol wipe and begin to wash the wound in it, he groans and hisses through his teeth, letting out a groan of pain that keeps your own tears coming and you’re so desperate for him to be okay because you’re not sure what you would do without him. He told you he’d be okay so why were you still worried?

Out of all the things to happen tonight something was stripped from you two. Something you told yourself would never happen between the two of you and you hadn’t realised your mistake yet. You had let Peter see you cry, and he had let you see him cry. There was vulnerability now. One of his biggest secrets was now revealed to you and it was because of chance. It was all up to chance... and god, were you wrong about him. But you didn’t want to stop hating him either.

Because this night changed everything. As you look at the way his back arched when you pressed the alcohol to his skin and the way his eyes looked into yours, desperate for your help and desperate for you to stop hurting him and although you knew you couldn’t you didn’t want to hurt him anymore. But he was going to hurt with or without you right now and you wanted to ease his pain. You wanted to help him stop hurting for the first time in your life and you were clutching onto the fact that he has to be okay. He needs to be okay.

All you want for him is to be okay.

Taking a bandage out of the first aid kit, you help him sit up as he groans when he does so. You place some gauze onto the wound and wrap the bandage around his waist. He sits back and the two of you are in silence. Your hands are covered in his blood and there’s not much he can say to you right now. There’s not much anyone can say. You were just worried for Peter Parker’s life.

Something you had threatened multiple times. Something you hadn’t really cared about before. You were worried. You were in pain because he was in pain.

Your both still sitting in silence and Peter opens his mouth to say something and you turn to face him, speaking before he can, “Pete.” The name comes out like a whisper – something only his friends would call him, “Are you okay?”

He shakes his head, “Not currently... but I- I will be.” He nods carefully, “I know you probably won’t, but can you not say anything about this to anyone? You and my aunt are now the only people who know about me being Spider-Man. Coming home like this almost every night... well, not every night, I can usually avoid this kinds of wounds but, y’know, tonight clearly wasn’t my night.” He chuckles.

You join him and smile softly, “Of course I won’t... I still- I still don’t like you, by the way.” You feel like you have to say it now because what happens if you don’t clarify it? What happens if you don’t actually hate Peter anymore?

He nods, “Right, yeah, of course.” He looks into your eyes, “What if I don’t want you to hate me anymore?”

It catches you off guard and you freeze, “Please, Peter, don’t be ridiculous.” You scoff.

“C’mon you care about me. You could’ve left me here to fend for myself. You cried. You hoped I would be okay.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t leave you to die, Peter. I’m not a bitch like that, okay. But we hate each other, and I don’t count on that changing anytime soon. That’s just the way we are.” You don’t get up from Peter’s bed, but he moves closer to you.

For the first time tonight, you actually see what’s underneath that suit of his, the way his abs are still defined even if covered by bandage. How his collarbone is as sharp as his jaw. His brown eyes melting into your own.

He’s close enough that his breath hits your lips, “What if I don’t want to be your enemy anymore. We can be friends. We don’t have to live in this constant cycle of anger... of hate.”

You shake your head, “Peter...” You trail off, but you don’t move away and you’re not sure who moved in first, but your lips are pressed to his. You’re careful to avoid the wound that sits in between the two of you but he swipes your lip for entrance, and you allow him to kiss you. You allow him to kiss you.

Then they’re not. You pull away and sigh, “I’m- I’m sorry, Peter. I can’t. I can’t let this happen.” You say softly getting off of his bed and walking away.

NOW

As you look at Peter you can still feel the ghost of his lips on yours. Everything was different now. You found it harder to hate Peter. He was a good person and you had helped him. You were there for him when he needed that. You look around to make sure nobody else is awake.

Your face contorts and it’s venerable. Something the two of you aren’t meant to be and you don’t know why you’re asking because you promised yourself you wouldn’t. But it’s kept you up at night, wondering if he was okay. Even last night when you were trying to forget. Kissing someone else to make yourself forget all about Peter. He was still engraved in your mind. Regardless, you ask anyway. Your eyes are soft and your voice barely above a whisper.

“How’s the wound?” You ask him, placing a hand on his forearm.

He looks down at you, those chocolate brown eyes piercing into yours once more, he nods, lifting his shirt to show you. It’s not fully healed yet. But most of it is gone. There’s a scar there but you know as much as he does that it’ll be gone in the next few hours or the next day.

You’d avoided him till now and you were adamant that you’d only wanted to hate Peter. That you didn’t want anything else. But yet, you still did care and Peter wanted to show you that he did care about you. That this thing the two of you had was far beyond hate.

You don’t know what compels you to do so, but you run your fingers over the scar. It sends a shiver down Peter’s spine. Your touch, it was doing something to him, and this was a weirdly intimate position you’d put the two of you in. But he didn’t care and oddly you didn’t either. Not until you heard the door to MJ’s room begin to open.

Your eyes flashed with anger, and you took your hand off of Peter’s wound and he let his shirt drop over it. His eyes still soft as he watches you. His features in awe of the way you mauver away from him. How you’re able to turn your hate on so easily. Even though it looks like you’ve betrayed yourself. Your eyes are still on him, yet your anger is a façade.

“Fuck off, Parker.” You speak viciously. Your tone is far from nice. It’s like his name is poison. Like his name is something so disgusting it should be banished.

You turn your back to him, taking a moment to collect yourself, but it doesn’t seem to work because as you enter your room slamming the door behind you. All you can even think about is him. The way his lips were on yours. The way his hands had been on your waist when he kissed you so needily. The way the kiss had changed everything about the two of you. It wasn’t helping that he wanted you as much as the next person. He made it evident to you that he wanted to put this all behind you, but you just couldn’t you couldn’t. You can’t.

Maybe moving forward with Peter would be better for you. But you aren’t thinking. Of course, you’re not because any logical person would forgive him. Any logical person would want to move forward... and it’s killing you that you can’t seem to let yourself do exactly that.

“What’s up with her this morning?” Harry asks his best friend as he takes his own plate of pancakes.

Peter shakes his head, “Dunno, man.” He shrugs, “Same shit as always. She’s bein’ a bitch.”

Peter looks over at your door and all he can think of his you. He sighs looking down at his own plate, mulling it over. Harry knows he’s got a lot on his mind – especially about you. Because Peter is so conflicted. He wants you. He wants every part of you and that kiss you shared with him was probably the best kiss he’s ever had in his whole entire life. But there’s also the fact that the two of you have said so much to each other in spite, blind hatred, and anger.

When your boyfriend had cheated on you, Peter wanted nothing more than to wrap an arm around you, pull you close. Be there for you. But as always, you continued your spite for him. You continued to be mean and rude and hate every part of him. You continued to be sick and tired of him. So, he continued too. He told you that you deserved it. He told you that he never loved you.

But when he sees you with someone else’s tongue down your throat after the two of you had kissed the night before, Peter wanted nothing more than for time to go back so he could say something else because as much as that kiss the two of you shared meant everything it also meant absolutely nothing. The two of you weren’t friends. You weren’t the one Peter was allowed to call his. You were nothing but his enemy. The thing you had deemed yourself all those years ago.

The next few days were a blur, yet again everyone else was at a party when you stayed back, and you were secretly hoping Peter hadn’t left. MJ was the only one who spoke to you before the group left.

You don’t know why you were hoping Peter would be here when you were too. You didn’t know why you wanted Peter to get hurt maybe? No. No. No. That’s the last thing you wanted. That’s the last thing you wanted. The last. You were shocked at yourself for even thinking that. Maybe you wanted to help him. Maybe that’s what it was. Regardless, you didn’t ever want to see him like that again. That was some of the scariest shit you had ever been through, and you couldn’t imagine what it must’ve been like for Peter.

That’s when you heard the thump. You got up from your desk and made your way to Peter’s room, throwing the door open to see him in his room perfectly fine. Perfectly okay. God, you felt stupid. Yes, he was in his suit. Yes, he had just come back. But you had let yourself into a world of care for a boy you shouldn’t care about. You were angry at yourself for believing Peter couldn’t take better care of himself. Regretting the fact that you had stumbled in on him not too long ago.

“You alright?” He asks you.

“Are you?” You brace yourself for impact, not ready to hear if he’s not okay.

He nods, “Yeah, might have a slight concussion, but I’ll be, yeah, I’ll be fine.” He nods again, you stare at him for another second, “We should probably talk about that night.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

You shake your head, “We don’t. We don’t have to talk about anything, Peter. I told you I still hate you. I don’t like you. We’re not friends. We’re not anything, okay? You and I aren’t meant to be anything.”

He sighs, “Stop avoiding it, things changed, okay? You and I? We’re not the same anymore, y/n. Whether you like it or not, we are not the same.” He runs a hand over his face, “We’ve been like this two times. One the first time I met you and Two the other night?”

“Been like what, Pete?” You question him, “What have we been?”

“Venerable, y/n. We’ve been venerable and as fucked up as it sounds, I trust you more than anyone in this fucking house. Maybe it’s because you know I’m Spider-Man. Maybe it’s because we kissed, maybe it’s because we have been through so much together even though we hate each other and all those times we’ve flirted with each other intertwining it with our anger. I can’t do it anymore. You and I? We’re changing.”

You shake your head, “I don’t want to change, Peter.”

“Why not! Let us change! There’s something here between me and you. We need to grow because we can’t keep hating each other. It’s getting old. It’s getting boring. Stop ignoring this. Stop running away from it.”

You’re in denial because of all of this. Because this isn’t the way you need this to go. This isn’t what you want. Everything is pointing to the signs that he’s right. He’s always fucking right. You shake your head; you think about the first time you met. Maybe that’s the reason you decided to hate him. Maybe it was the beginning of everything. Had you really started all of this? You honestly forgot about it.

BEFORE

Yet again you were sitting in the park crying over your roommate, who seems to have been a bitch this whole time. She lied to your face constantly, much like everyone else in your life. You have yet to find a group of honest people who will give you exactly what you want. Attention. Good attention. Love, and kindness. You have hope that you will one day. You might. Who knows? But it’s not like you can really complain. You put yourself into this situation and now you’re crying in a park like some lowlife.

He walks over to you. He’s got brown hair and brown eyes that lurk over you, and he debates if he should talk to you or not. You want to tell him to leave but instead you come out with fire, “What’re you staring at?” You ask, wiping your eyes of your tears, “Deciding if you should tip me? You think I’m homeless?”

He shakes his head, “No. I didn’t think that but now I’m quite sure that you’re just projecting your issues and you really are homeless.”

You roll your eyes, “Well I’m not... I’m not homeless. I’ve got a dorm... I think.”

“So you’re borderline homeless?” he questions.

“What’s it to you?” You ask him, “Unless you’ve got a place for me to go... and forgive me if I’m wrong, you wouldn’t even want me there because I’m a stranger.”

“You’re not though... a stranger.”

“What do you mean?” You furrow your eyebrows at the boy.

“You’re in my English class.” He sighs, “You sit right in front of me.”

“Right.” You nod slowly, “Because you know my name, then? If we’re not strangers.” You rub your eyes, a couple more tears falling down your face. Probably what’s left of them anyway.

He sighs, “Let me help you.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t need help.”

“Clearly, you do.” He’s getting aggravated now and the way the two of you are looking at each other is something other worldly. You want to kill him for nothing. For suggesting he help you which is exactly what you needed so why are you pushing him away? Why aren’t you letting yourself get help.

You stand your eyes burning because of your tears and you’re denying help that’ll probably be the best thing for you in the next while. What if this is what you need? What if this can reset your life? What do you have to lose? Absolutely, nothing. Nothing at all. You want to keep crying but you also want to move forward.

“What do you get out of helping me then...” You wait for his name.

“Peter Parker.”

“Parker? What do you get?”

“Dunno, good consciousness?”

You laugh, you genuinely laugh. He’s helping someone for the sake of helping someone, it’s not every day you run into someone like this. Not at all. You shake your head; he has to be joking. Maybe your faith in humanity has been lost after all. Because you’re pissing yourself at someone who’s just trying to help you. Your walls are up high. Higher than they ever have been because of your ex-roommate now, especially. This was the first time you’d been cheated on and he did it with her and then they both lied about it. They both led you on. You thought you were making friends. Turns out you were wrong.

But accepting his help reluctantly? It was the best thing you ever did for yourself.

NOW.

To this day Peter still doesn’t know that you’ve been cheated on twice. Just the one. But you didn’t need to tell him. As you looked into his eyes you didn’t need to tell him anything at all. You didn’t owe him that so now why does it feel like you do? He’s unwillingly shared a secret about himself with you all because of circumstance. It’s not everyday things like that just happen. It’s not everyday someone who lives with you is a superhero, vigilante, border lining on both? You are standing across from watching as he pulls off his suit and you have to remind yourself that you’ve seen this before but now it feels different. He’s in a pair of boxer briefs and it’s exactly like summer. Where he would walk around shirtless in a pair of shorts. So why is this different? Why is it fucking different?

You want to run but all you can do is look at Peter. Watch him. You shake your head, pulling yourself away from watching Peter’s body. Pulling yourself away from any thoughts you were beginning to have about changing things. Pulling yourself away... like you always seem to do. It’s funny how things have changed so drastically in the past few weeks. It’s as though you and Peter have been fighting this for a long time, even though it’s nothing such. You thought you hated Peter till you found him half dead in his room.

Peter, though? Peter wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt the day he met you. That’s all he ever wanted to do. But you made that hard for him. You made it so hard because you keep pushing and pushing and pushing him away. From the moment you met him that’s all you did. Constantly and now, Peter was getting tired. It’s not like Peter never hated you, but it’s not like he did. He did dislike you, but he also loved what he hated about you. How stubborn you were. How funny you could be. How nice you were to everyone but him. How you were a genuinely nice person, but he hadn’t been on the reciving end of that. Not at all.

None of your friends knew about this whole situation between you and Peter. MJ had no idea that your feelings for him had been morphing into something else over the past few weeks and you had no intentions of her finding out because all her, Harry, Felicia, Gwen and literally everyone else in your group had wanted. For you and Peter to be friends.

Yet, the two of you were in a constant battle of hate and love and as you can feel that battle beginning to end. That battle getting closer and closer to the finish line. You can’t help but wonder... why are you running?

You shake your head at Peter, “I’m not running, Peter.” You’re lying – you both know this is a poor attempt at lying because you have nothing to run from... not anymore.

Sure, Peter had said things to you. But you had said things back. It was a war and a battle, and those things are going away. There have been less fights over the last few weeks and everyone’s noticed. Yet, nobody has said anything. Your heart is telling you that everything is okay. That’s it’s okay to accept Peter as your friend... or something more.

As fucked up as it is, you might love him. It’s a thing you can’t really explain. A feeling that has been burning in your chest for a while. You don’t know whether you should be upset with yourself for allowing yourself to fall for someone you’d been arguing with for a long time. A person who’s said nasty things to you out of spite and anger and jealously. Because if anything Peter had been jealous and when you saw him with someone else you wanted to be that other person. You had been jealous too. Maybe it field the hatred even more.

Maybe the two of you actually deserved each other. Maybe you should stop running from him. Maybe you need to stop running from him. As he looks at your eyes, he moves closer. He’s stalking closer and closer and closer to you. Towering over to you. You can smell the mint in his breath. He brings his hand up to your chin, bringing your eyes up to his. His breath hot on your face.

“Yeah... you are, y/n.” He sighs, “I don’t care anymore. I need you to know that I can’t hate you anymore. I can’t do it anymore. But if that’s what you want. If that’s what you need, I’ll do it. As long as I get to speak to you as long as I get to be near you.” His eyes are brimming with tears now and so are yours, so desperate for you to know that he’s done with this.

“If that’s what you need... I will continue to hate you. I will never speak to you like this again, but I need you to be sure that you want that. I need you to be sure. I need you to tell me you’re sure you want that.”

You don’t wait for another second before standing on your toes and pressing your lips against Peter’s. They’re soft and plump and you can taste some of the salt from his tears, but he presses against your lips harder. Even though he’s pressing against you, he’s still gentle and careful with you. He’s still treating you like china. The way you needed to be treated. Gentle and loved.

His hands move down to your waist as he moves you towards his bed. Shutting the door behind him. His kisses are softer and there’s more of them. But his lips make their way to your neck, trailing soft kisses down your jaw first, moving lower and lower and lower and you moan gently as they touch your sweet spot, the space at the bottom of your neck and in the dip of your collar bone. Your heartbeat quickens as he brings his lips back up the same path. Probably giving you a hickey somewhere in that vicinity, but you didn’t care because Peter’s lips land back on yours and he pulls away for a moment.

“What do you need tonight, y/n?” He asks you, gently, softly. His eyes full of love and care and everything you’ve ever wanted and needed since the first day you met Peter. Since the first day you met Peter Parker, you’ve hated him and despite all odds he is the one giving you the love and care that you’ve always needed and desperately wanted.

You’re on the brink of tears as you look up at him as he hovers over you and you bite your lip trying to hold them back, “I just... I just want you, Pete. I need all of you, please.” You mutter softly and he smiles, nodding.

“I- yeah, I can do that.” He presses another kiss to your lips as his hands reach for the hem of your shirt, “Can I?” He questions you, requesting your permission.

You nod, “Yeah, you can.” You smile, you try to hide the fact that you’re excited to be doing this with Peter. Because so much has changed in the past few days and it’s killing you, it’s killing you that you didn’t do this sooner because this is everything you want. This is what you want.

You don’t want some stranger. You don’t want some guy from the club that you danced with for five minutes while plastered drunk. You want someone you can trust. You want the boy who stares you down in jealously as you dance with someone else because he wants to be that person with you and now that he is dancing with you in this intimate and hungry way that the two of you both desperately wanted. You couldn’t imagine it any other way. You don’t imagine how you could’ve hated Peter because he’s making you wet to your core and somehow, he’s been on your mind 24/7 since you’ve found out that he was Spider-Man. He’s been a constant thought in your brain because you really do care about Peter Parker and you didn’t believe it then, you couldn’t believe it then. But things were changing well off before that you and you were just too blind to see that.

You are wet. You are so wet for Peter it’s embarrassing. Your core is dripping, and you think if he takes off your panties it might drip down your inner thigh and he’s done absolutely nothing but kiss your neck. He’s not even come close to even touching you.

You sit up a little so he can take off your shirt properly. He discards it onto the floor, and you forgot you weren’t wearing a bra, he stares down at you, his eyes widening before he gives a little smile. His warm hands caressing your waist, sending a shiver down your spine.

“God, you are so beautiful.” He murmurs against your lips, and you smile against them. Why is he the one making you feel this good? Why did you wait so long for this to happen? You’re regretting everything you’ve ever said to Peter. He’s treating you like you’re the only person in the whole entire world. As though you are the person of his dreams... and that’s because you are.

Even when Peter hated you, you were a part of every single thought. The number of times he had thought about smashing his lips against yours to get you to stop talking were astronomical. The number of times he had dreamt about you regardless of what the context of the dream was were other worldly. He had always thought about you. There were things that reminded him of you daily and it was something of these dreams that he was having.

Your hands run down Peter’s body, finally feeling where the gash had once been, scar gone, he was completely healed and as he continued to press his lips against yours, your hands were cold and daring against the warmth and heat of his body. You were addicted to the way his warmth radiated off him. Everything about him was intoxicating to you. How he smelt like cinnamon and wood. Your lips are still on his as his hand cups your breast. Fondling with your nipple as it goes hard. It’s all you’ve ever wanted to feel. Good.

Because most men aren’t good at sex. But Peter hasn’t even started to fuck you and he’s already going to make you cum just by touching your boob. You’re getting drunk on him already.

Sadly, his lips come off of yours, and he trails kisses down your body, in between your boobs, his hand coming off and moving down to your waist, making you shiver once more. His lips end up at the waist band of your tiny shorts.

“Can I?” He questions you and you’re embarrassed. You’ve never been eaten out before. You’re not so sure why he’s focusing all his attention onto you, but you also want to make him feel good.

“Peter, you don’t have to do that. I want you to feel good.”

“But this will make me feel good.” His fingers slide underneath your waist band and you grab his hands.

“Look you don’t, I want you to do whatever will make you feel good and-”

“Have you never been eaten out before?” He questions once he realises how scared you actually are, and you shake your head.

“Let me show you how good you can feel, y/n. Those other boys, they didn’t treat you right. They used you. Let me show you how good both you and I can feel.” He says softly.

You nod and smile, unsure but willing, “Only... only if, you’re sure.”

“I’m very sure... if you need me to stop. If you don’t like it. Tell me.” He says stern, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

You smile and nod, “Okay, I want this, Peter. I want you to feel good.”

Peter pulls your shorts and panties down, his finger running against the slit of your pussy, his eyes flick to the clock beside you, worried that his friends are going to come home and catch you in this compromising decision. He doesn’t care but he knows you do and all he wants is for you to feel okay. Peter decides that you have enough time for this. That you both have enough time for this.

“You’re so wet, baby.” He mutters quietly, pressing a kiss to your slit, getting just a garner of your taste, how you taste so sweet and delicious against his tongue. He could remember this. He wants to remember this. He doesn’t want to live off anything else but you and how sweet you are.

Peter dips his tongue inside of you, your legs spreading slightly and his head in-between your thighs. You watch him as he devours you. His tongue doing laps around your clit. How he’s circling it with his tongue. How he sucks on it lightly and other time a little harder than before. He’s moaning as he tastes you and so are you. Throwing your head back, biting your lip, tiny pants coming out of your mouth making this better than Peter ever thought it could be as he continues to stroke your pussy with his tongue. There are kitten licks and then long and slow strokes that only leave you begging for more. Begging for him so completely, needing him so fully and whole. Your whole body jerking forward as he makes you ever so sensitive against his tongue. You want to scream as your back arches against his face, your hand running into his curls as though there is nothing you need more than this. As though you could never feel this good again. He slides a finger into you without warning and you don’t care at the point because you’re drunk.

Fuck being plastered on vodka shots – this is better. This is what you needed. You’ll remember all of this. You’ll continue to remember this and hopefully get this again so many more times. The squelch of your pussy filling the room is not missed. He’s kissing your pussy, his tongue moving faster and faster and you feel like you’re going to reach your breaking point at any moment. That hot feeling burning the bottom of your stomach and your pussy getting more sensitive as he continues to suck and lick and kiss your pussy. Lapping and drinking all of your juices, fucking feral for you. Devouring you like this is his last meal and all you need to do is cum.

“Fuck, Peter!” You moan softly as your back arches once more, his fingers pushing you against the edge as they press onto your g-spot, pushing deeper and deeper against you guiding you to the orgasm you so desperately needed from him.

When he pulls away you can see this mouth is glistening with you, his lips are red and plump, his hair a mess, a goddamn fucking mess and he presses his lips to yours, letting you taste how good you are. You moan against the kiss as you feel Peter’s cock in his boxers slide against your pussy. You groan softly.

“Peter, please.” You beg carefully, “I want you to fuck me, please.” You murmur against his lips. Your hot breath against his mouth as both of you are now panting. You palm his cock through his boxers, “Please, Petey.”

The nickname turns him on. God, the nickname turns him on, and he presses a hard kiss to your mouth before standing and taking off his boxers. Grabbing a condom from inside his drawer and that’s when you finally get a look at his long and thick cock. You’re not sure how long it is but every thought that had ever entertained you about the size of his cock was derailing your expectations, because whatever you expected? It was not this. He slides the condom on and joins you back on the bed.

His lips falling back onto yours in drunken heat, both of you are totally plastered on sex. The smell of the room is arousal. The air is thick and all you need is him inside of you at this point. You’re not quite sure if you’ll survive if he doesn’t stick his cock inside of you.

Peter’s finger runs against your sensitive clit again, but he slowly lifts your legs onto his shoulders, as he sits on his thighs. He looks down at you, and how your face contorts as he sticks his cock inside of your anticipating hole that’s still reeling from your last orgasm. But even so you are desperate to cum again and again and again as long as it’s Peter giving it to you. He’s slow at first, moving carefully as though he’s going to hurt you, but when you moan it’s the green light to go a little faster, to move his body against yours. His hips bucking against yours, he groans as he continues to move into you. The slit of his cock presses against your g-spot as he starts dripping pre-cum into the condom. His finger runs over your clit as he continues to pound into you. Your bodies moving like fluid. The way the two of you are so in sync of what you want and how you want it.

“Faster, Peter, please.” You throw your head back and close your eyes, your mouth open as you moan, your tits bouncing right in front of his eyes as he watches how beautiful you are. How you are both so raw in this moment. You’re all he’s ever needed – all he’s truly ever wanted.

Peter does as you say and moves his cock in and out of you faster and faster. Pressing into you, his cock covered in you and all Peter wants to do is taste you again stick his tongue in you and devour you. God, he remembers the taste on his tongue so fucking well. He keeps fucking you senseless. His cock pounding in and out of you and you’re almost numb from the feeling of his sex, you’re drunk, definitely fucking drunk.

Peter’s fucking you so hard, shoving his large cock inside of you, filling you. Filling you so deep and so much. You’re going to cry because of how good you feel, and Peter can feel how your pussy is starting to pulse around his cock. Starting to tighten, around his cock. Your pussy throbbing because of him as you feel your stomach fill with the same fire.

“Fuck Petey, fuck, I’m gonna cum!” You moan loudly as he continues to fuck you so endlessly.

“That’s right, baby, cum for me, c’mon.” He says and it’s enough to push you over the edge as you reach your final orgasm. Your body curls in slightly and jerks forward slightly, Peter can feel himself getting close and as he rides you off of your orgasm, you can feel it too. His cock twitching inside of you, desperate to cum. He pants softly as he continues to pound into you. Feeling that same fire as he watches your tits still bounce and the way you look right now sends him over the edge as cum fills the condom. You’re sweaty, your skin glistening in the soft light of his room. The lamp in the corner amplifying all of your most stunning features. Peter gently takes your legs off of his shoulders as you yawn, snuggling into his sheets.

“Y/n, you gotta go pee.” Peter mutters softly as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “You did good, baby. So good. I hope I made you feel good.”

Peter cleans himself up and you shake your head, “Too tired...” Another yawn escapes your lips and Peter smiles down at you.

How did he ever hate you? Against all odds, he never thought this is where the two of you would be tonight. Peter thought he’d be asleep, and he thought you would be slaving away at your creative writing project. He’s heard you talk about it, but he’s not sure how that’s going for you.

You feel a strong pair of arms lift you up as Peter puts you in one of his nerd shirts, and he’s got a pair of pants on now, regardless, he slides his arms around you and carries you to the bathroom. You never realised how strong he actually was... then again, he is Spider-Man. Peter places you down as you reluctantly go to pee.

It’s funny... how he cares for you after all of this. How despite all the arguments the two of you are now something strange. But one thing’s for sure, you definitely do not hate Peter Parker anymore and he doesn’t hate you.

When you stand and finish peeing those same arms are carrying you back to your room... but that’s the thing, you don’t want to go back to your room, you want to stay with Peter, “Peter, can you... can I? Can you stay with me?” You mutter into his chest.

Peter freezes for a moment, the unusuality of the situation is finally setting in, but he obliges. He doesn’t know exactly where this puts the two of you. Over the past few weeks hate has left you. Jealously had taken over Peter at some point and the two of you had kissed twice – not to mention just had sex.

“You don’t have to.” You whisper into the warmth of him, “But I want you to.” You say meek. Your voice is tiny, and Peter wants to keep cradling you in his arms.

“I’ll stay.” Peter decides, before continuing, “I’ll leave in the morning, so nobody finds out, okay?”

You nod, “O-okay.” Peter sets you down on your bed, before joining you, his arms sliding around you.

When your roommates get home your door is closed and so is Peter’s they think you’re sleeping as far apart as possible. Never did they think or know what would be going on behind your door. If they found out, they’d think they’d enter an alternate reality.

It’s a few weeks later and Peter is making pancakes in the kitchen. You wear one of his shirts to bed. Nobody’s really noticed because it’s plain and white, but you sneak up behind him. Wrapping your arms around his torso, engulfing him in a hug. He laughs as you do so, kissing your hand before tending back to the food.

You kiss his back, the way his muscles shine in the morning, so defined. Peter feels this as he cooks, placing some more batter onto the frying pan before turning to you, pressing his lips on yours – it’s still early in the morning so the two of you are able to get away with this. Peter lifts you up by your legs and places you on the kitchen counter. The smell of pancakes and the taste of your lips are stimulating his senses.

“Petey, what if we get caught?” You laugh against his lips as his hands pull you closer. He’s tucked in between your legs as the cold of the counter sends a shiver down your spine.

He shakes his head, “We won’t, either way ‘s okay.” He continues to press his lips onto yours and your hands make their way into his hair – the pancakes are long forgotten as he pulls you closer to him if that’s even possible at this point.

Peter’s mouth begins to move down your jawline, down your neck, leaving kisses everywhere he possibly can. His hands moving from your waist to your thighs, underneath that large shirt of his that he just loves to see you wear. How you look so sexy in anything you wear will forever be a mystery to Peter. How you look so beautiful all the time will also be a mystery to the boy. Peter’s hands move into your hair and your tongues finally intertwine, the warmth of his hands pressing against your cold skin underneath his shirt as he finally reaches the sides of your boobs, gripping onto your sides. You moan against his lips, so desperately needing more than this. Your core beginning to drip.

How does he always do this to you?

You thought the morning would go differently. You didn’t think you’d be making out with your boyfriend as he cooked breakfast. Something was so nice about how domestic the situation was, as though the two of you were living a life together alone.

As you felt Peter just touching you. Being with you. You smiled against his lips, and he pulls away for air, “What’s wrong he questions?”

You laugh, your arms falling over his shoulders, as you tug on the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, “Nothing... I just- I really like this, Pete. You and me.”

He nods, and you finally get a good look at him. His lips are plump and red. His hair is a mess. He’s stunning – beautiful and he’s yours. He’s your boyfriend. It overwhelms you and it overwhelms him, but you place your lips on his after your short confession. He smiles against your lips.

The pancakes are now burnt and the two of you don’t hear the door to Harry and MJ’s room open as you laugh against his lips in happiness. The two of you completely and totally in abyss, pulled away from the world and absolutely in your own. If you got told you’d be in this position a couple months ago, you’d probably laugh. But now you were laughing for all the right reasons.

... and you worry about him. You worry about Peter every night that he goes out. You worry about Peter when he doesn’t text you good night or knock on your window to tell you that he’s home from being Spider-Man. You worry about Peter when you go to these parties, and he disappears in between. You’ve stopped drinking as much so if you need to you can go home and tend to his wounds. Because you care about him. You care about Peter Parker.

Part of you thinks you always cared. If he did die who would be there to make fun of you? Or say some nasty shit that would send you reeling? That’s what it was before. The worry that your greatest enemy would be gone. But now it’s different.

Who will make you feel better about yourself? Who will you tell good news too? Who will kiss you better? Who will help you get rid of your writers block because this story? It’s a story worth sharing. Who will hold you when you’re crying in the middle of the night? Who will make fun of you as you cry at a stupid animated movie (or Revenge of the Sith, which against all odds, Peter had gotten you into Star Wars)?

These things... Peter. He’s changed your life. Sure, for the worse. But that was before. That was before you let yourself fall for him in every single way possible. He was someone who lit up your life and everyone could see that you had been happier... that you had been changing.

... and Harry Osborn had just figured out why. As he watched two of his close friends kiss, who had still been throwing weird insults at each other over the past two months, he finally realises why your banter has been off. Why you in particular, have been happier. Because you’ve found someone.

You found someone that’s made you love and it’s a weird sight to see his best friend making out with the girl who supposedly makes his life hell. It’s so fucking weird. But he can’t blame you. He can’t blame Peter either. The two of you were bound to let this happen. There was always a weird tension around the two of you and Harry was happy that the two of you got rid of it.

MJ wakes up, stirring as she walks over, almost falling because of how dizzy she is and as Michelle looks over at the kitchen counter, she looks to her boyfriend, with a soft groan, “Am I still dreaming?”

He shakes his head, “No... you’re not.”

You laugh against Peter’s lips as he finally notices the burnt pancake on the stove, “Shit!” He says softly and you throw your head back laughing once more. Watching him as he tries to save what’s been long gone.

Harry and MJ aren’t sure what’s going on but what they do know is that there are two people in love in their kitchen.

... and they’ve overcome so much.

hi tysm for reading! | ADD YOURSELF TO MY TAGLIST OR YOU CAN SEND AN ASK <3

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #tom holland x reader #peter parker smut #andrew garfield x reader #tobey maguire x reader #andrew garfield x reader smut #tom holland x reader smut

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c1nnam00n · 1 month

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me seeing that my fav character barely/doesn’t have any fanfics OR imagines

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p3terparker · 11 months

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𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 𝗺𝗲 - 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: peter wants to be babied.

𝘄/𝗰: 0.5k

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

“please hold me”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“how did you–”

“i’m spider-man, baby”

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

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

“very. now come lay back down”

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

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

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

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

“stoppp” he whines. “i’m blushing.”

“okay fine, i’m done”

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

“you are truly such a big baby”

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

how could you deny him?

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

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

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

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

“aww petey, you’re so adorable”

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

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

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

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alwaysmoncheri · 1 month

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hello! I hope you’re doing good! I would like to request a fic with tasm!peter parker or james potter if you prefer, but something where they’re making out and the reader ends up breaking his glasses? If that makes sense🫣

hi, my darling, i’m am doing very well! thank you for requesting, that makes complete sense! I’m totally watching tasm again after writing this <3

cw: fem!reader, making out, slightly suggestive (but not really), aunt may walking in, established relationship, fluff, 1.2k

Peter’s mouth is on your neck while the bridge of his glasses rubs against the skin just an inch higher than his mouth. His hands stay firmly planted on your hips as you sit in his lap on his swivel chair. Your textbook and computer lay abandoned next to his on his desk in front of you.

“Peter, I have to study,” you mumble, but the sigh that escapes your lips makes your excuse less believable, “We have to study.” you add, trying you best to get yourself and peter back on track for a big exam tomorrow. Crazy for Peter or not, this test is important and you need to get a little studying in, but you can’t get Peter to keep his hands off you.

“No, we don’t.” Peter replies quickly, before biting your neck, causing you to let out squeak.

“Peter,” you practically whine, and the chuckle that falls from Peter’s mouth vibrates onto your neck, causing you to squirm in his lap. When Peter lifts his head from your neck, you’re pouting. Lips jutted out and eyebrows pinched together with pleading eyes. Oh, Peter could die right here with you in his arms. He pulls you closer, biceps and hands pressed into your sides and forearms into your stomach.

“You’re going to be fine,” Peter offers gently, pressing a much softer kiss to your cheek, allowing you to release the tension from your face, “You’ve studied plenty already.”

“But–”

“No, buts,” Peter shuts you down, gently rubbing your sides in an attempt to silence your worries. He wants to kiss you so bad, but he would never do it without your permission. And if you want to study, he’ll let you, but he doesn’t think you really do, “Kiss me?”

Peter hears you release a long, dramatic, sigh before shifting yourself in his lap so that you’re straddling him, his hands now stabilizing you by your waist. For a moment your face is expressionless and Peter can’t read you. He worries that you’re unhappy with him but when he sees a giddy smile creep onto your face, he instantly reciprocates and his worries melt away.

You lock your hands around Peter’s neck before leaning in to kiss him. At first, you kiss him softly, tenderly just because you love him. But when you lightly tug on Peter’s hair at the nape of his neck, he takes it as a sign to tug on your hips, pulling you flush against his chest and deepen the kiss. But when the bridge of you nose knocks into Peter’s glasses, you groan in momentary pain, causing his eyes to widen, hand reaching up to gently hold your cheek, the action asking if you’re okay. When you nod your head and meet his gaze, you notice his concern before it’s quickly replaced with frustration. Peter quickly tears his glasses on his face and tosses them towards his bed without sparing a glance in that direction. But when a soft crack echos from across the room, you snap your gaze towards the glasses that now lay broken at the bridge on the floor.

“Peter!” You gasp, shifting your gaze between him and the broken glasses, but no concern seems to be etched on his face.

“Don’t worry, I can get new ones,” Peter assures you, kissing the corners of your lips while his nose delicately brushes the apples of your cheeks, “I just wanna kiss you.” Peter whispers and you feel a rush of warmth spread across your face at his tone.

“Aunt May isn’t going to be happy.” You state, nervously glancing towards the door that Peter probably forgot to lock again.

“Shush, less talking, baby,” Oh god, you melt completely at the way his says baby and presses his finger to your mouth, before replacing it with his lips, “More kissing.” He adds in between a few quick, hard, presses of his lips on yours.

“Oh whatev—hmph!”

Peter kisses you long and hard, successfully getting you to stop talking. You feel hot all over when he kisses you again and again. And when you rank your fingers through his hair, lightly tugging on the ends, while simultaneously gently biting his bottom lip, Peter makes a sound between a gasp and a groan that makes you want to do it again just so you can hear the sound once more. There’s a kiss, another, and another, you’re so caught up in the feeling of his mouth against yours, carefully sliding your hands up and down his chest before lightly gripping a fist full of his shirt to keep him near you.

The way Peter touches you is like muscle memory, he knows how to make you gasp and what makes you shiver. When, his hands slip under the material of your shirt and caress your skin, your body reacts exactly how he knows it always does. Then, he lifts you up, your legs wrap around his waist, and with his lips still on yours, he gently lowers the both of you onto his bed. He seems so far away now and you can’t handle it. Before he even has the chance to lower himself further down onto the bed, you grab his biceps, which are tensed from holding himself up, and tug him towards you. Peter practically falls and suddenly the weight of his whole body is on top of you, Peter worries for a moment, breaking the kiss, but you make a noise, reminiscent to a childish whine before grabbing his jaw with both of you hands and pulling him back. With his lips on yours, his tongue slides into your mouth while your thumbs trace the outline of his jaw and his hand slides behind you back and into your shirt.

“Hey, do you two know where—Oh my goodness!” You and Peter are quickly pulled apart, turning your heads in the direction of Aunt May’s loud gasp. She stands just outside the bedroom with one hand still on the doorknob, her expression loudly displaying her shock. Peter stays on top of you for a split second, before May’s gaze shifts between his hand in your shirt and both of your disheveled appearances, “Peter Benjamin Parker!”

With that, Peter immediately jumps up from on top of you, quickly grabbing your hand to stand next to him. Both of your faces are flushed red from being caught, even if all you were doing was kissing. Aunt May stands by the door, both of her hands placed firmly on her hips, presumably awaiting a reasonable response while you and Peter glance at each other in search of something to say. When Peter’s gaze returns to his aunt, he finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Aunt May—We were just—” Peter pauses as he stumbles over his words, feeling pathetic under the eyes of both you and his aunt.

“Studying.” You finish with a somewhat convincing smile and when Aunt May turns to you, her gaze softens, but when she notices the broken glasses laying forgotten on the floor behind you, her questioning expression returns.

“And what happened to your glasses?” Aunt May asks, a triumphant smile crossing her face as she knows she’s caught the two of you red-handed in your obvious lie, “Were you studying when that happened?”

You and Peter hesitate, he sends you a nervous smile and the both of you bite your tongues, not trusting yourselves to speak. After a moment, the two of you nod, heads hanging low.

“Mhm, right,” May hums before sending Peter a look that says, ‘we’ll talk later.’ Then, she takes a few steps into the room, causing you and Peter’s eyes to widen, but May only steps around you to pick up the broken glasses before walking back towards the door, “Well, dinner is almost ready, you two better behave.”

“Okay, yeah, thank you, May.” Peter says, and you can tell he’s beyond flustered by the situation as he runs a hand through his hair, then brushes a finger along his bottom lip, “We’ll be down soon.”

May nods before sending the both of you one final look, this one a little more playful than the rest. She exits the bedroom and closes the door behind her, leaving you and Peter alone once again.

The both of you share a glance before breaking out in a fit of laughter. Peter falls back onto the bed, tugging you down with his so that you’re laying on his chest.

“I told you she’d be mad.” You tease, running your hand up his chest, eventually reaching the back of his neck, while leaving a gentle kiss on his jaw.

“It was so worth it.” Peter smirks before flipping you over and kissing your face

masterlist . tasm!peter parker masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

tags: @googie-jeon, @Kevia1000, @annoyingmidgetwhowrites, @averyhotchner, @marauderswhxre, @vixparker

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fleuraimer · 5 months

Text

hi girlies :)). i've got another breeding blurby to share, thank ms. bubbles @harrysonlylover.

wc: 1.6k

cw: talk of menstrual and ovulation cycle, smut, minors dni, 17+, breeding kink, and more. not proofread.

Some people might say that the extent of his knowledge and control over Y/N’s life is not healthy. They might even suggest that his possessive behavior is a red flag, too. The constant messaging, always knowing her location, who she’s with, when she’s with them, why, how…

They didn’t tend to think of it that way. Love comes in all forms and theirs is… different.

Y/N likes being controlled. She wants him to know everything about her. She fucking craves the comfort of being taken care of for the price of absolutely nothing.

Well, maybe a few things.

Her obedience, for one, was expected (required). Her honesty, and loyalty. Her submission, too (although, sometimes, he liked to submit to her).

They’d found a simple way of living on some inherit, basic principles.

One, Y/N loved to be taken care of.

Two, he loved to take care of her.

So that was that. He was controlling, and she reveled in the power imbalance, and they didn’t care if others didn’t understand it, or like it, or even respect it. It was theirs, and it was enough.

It was fucking perfect.

One of the many ways he kept a tight leash on Y/N’s life was by tracking her menstrual cycle. He liked being ahead of the game—warm bath with waterlily scented suds ready for when she arrived home after her courses, her favorite sweet treats scattered across the kitchen island, Gilmore Girls queued up on his laptop, candles lit and heating pad at attention. Keeping track of her period meant knowing other things, intuitively, too. Like knowing that her cramps were worst on the first few days ( they were horrendous the last days too, though), that she’s more cuddly and soft than irritable or grumpy, that if she was too— no, severely stressed, overworking herself mentally, emotionally, and physically, she’d more likely than not work herself into a dreadful tizzy and end up intensifying (or even sometimes missing) her cycle.

Like now.

The poor thing, she was curled up in a frail little ball by end of the night every day this past week, deadlines looming over her head like a dark, rainy cloud as midterms approach. And, stubborn angel girl she is, she doesn’t bleat and moan about it to him. She doesn’t weep into his chest about how difficult this time is the way he encourages her to. She holds her chin high until the sun falls from the sky, her perseverance going with it, the stars and moon left to keep her and her misery company. And him, of course.

So, before the height of her period—when the red devil actually rears her ugly little head instead of inspiring trepidation of the inevitable with sore tits, an achy spine, and mental anguish—he thinks he’ll treat her a bit. And perhaps himself, as well (what? periods meant ovulating, and ovulating meant a lot of things).

———

Y/N’s head is quiet for the first time in days, and it’s all because of him.

As if anyone else could do what he does for her.

“Pretty girl,” he whispers in the place he’s nuzzled into her neck, littered with love bites and bruises. His cock is stuffed in her drippy pussy, stretching her deliciously over his thick, lengthy girth; his strong, beefy arms trapping her body to his like a vice.

Cowgirl usually makes Y/N’s thighs sore, but he’d taken the liberty of doing all the work tonight. He was in no mood for teasing, nor mocking or degrading. She wasn’t his whore tonight, just his girl. His soft, gorgeous, sensitive girl that deserved a sweet fucking after all the tears she’d choked down this week.

She needed a good cry.

“My little pillow princess, Yeah?” He mumbles, peaking up at her sluggish form. She’s slumped into him, head lain on his shoulder uselessly, hands gripping the tight Henley he’d neglected to rid himself of in the rush of their lustrous dance. She manages a nod, however, lazy and slow, but, somehow, still urgent. Frantic. In the glow of her eye, he can see, she adores that idea. “Yeah,” He nods, gripping the soft curve of her jaw to move her head with him, “My girl.”

She whimpers, but doesn’t speak. Too exhausted, too sedated. His cum is addicting, and if it were a drug, she’d inject it right into her veins (up her cunt).

Her arms wind around his neck, fingers spreading through the curly, sweaty tendrils of hair at the nape. Her nails tickle him, in the best way, only adding to the allure of her being. Of her mere presence.

Her hips swivel, rocking against his to create a mind-numbing sensation that has them both mewling. His cock stretches her out and fills her up completely, felt in the deepness of her tummy. Her lashes flutter when she feels him twitch inside of her, a sign that he’s close (she’d realize that she’s much closer if she had the brain capacity to think of anything other than him).

The thought—of his cum filling her to the point of spilling around their joined parts, a filthy mess between their legs—makes her dizzy. Eager. She’d been good, so good, this week, hadn’t she?

Fed herself, cleaned herself, went to class on time, even though school made her unpleasantly weak in the knees. She studied every day for at least three hours at the library, before trudging home with bleary eyes and a foggy head, only to do more studying.

She deserved a treat, right? A reward for staying in line, for not being bratty or whiny when he was busy and all she wanted was for her brain to shut off.

Now, with the opportunity before her (to go totally brain-dead, that is), she refuses to not seize the moment.

“Come,” she says suddenly, catching him mildly off guard.

Oh? She wanted to order him around?

“Please.”

Oh. Guess not.

“Please, please, come, Sir, I want it, so fucking bad,” she whines, mouthing at the chain sitting delicately across his neck. It’s nearly out of place; something so frail and pretty looks almost comical gracing his large, stocky figure. Perhaps that’s how those judgy people saw them, out of place.

She didn’t care though, she thought it looked nice on him. He made it look nice. Made it better, just like he makes everything better.

“Wan’ me t’a stuff you up, Babydoll?” he grunts, thankful that she’d somehow picked up on his primitive, feral need. Or maybe she just wanted it just as bad. “Fill you with my come and make you m’messy girl?”

“Yes, please,” she cries faintly, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, hiding her face in his neck as the tears finally start to flow.

How precious.

“Okay,” he sighs, his hands trailing from her hips to the plush, full of her ass. “I’ll fill y’up, Sugar.” He lifts her up, letting his cock slip from her fluttering hole to the tip— less than the tip. He smears himself onto her clit, making her jolt, and spanks her in reprimand. “Stay still for Daddy,” he scolds softly. “Lemme do my job.”

She cries pitifully when her thrusts back inside, hard. And he doesn’t lighten up. Not in the slightest. He pounds his cock into her small pussy, chasing his orgasm, trying to claim hers, bullying his way through her tight snatch to find them.

“Play with your pouty clit, Doll,” he offers. “Wan’ y’to come with me; cream my fat cock, Baby.”

Y/N does not need to be told twice.

One hand drops from the back of his head to toy with her swollen button, and it takes three weak twirls of her delicate fingers to get her there. He’s not far behind, nuzzling into her neck once more, mirroring her own position on top of him, groaning out profanities as his orgasm washes over him, from his head to the tips of his toes. He continues to drill his cock into her until his legs give out, trembling beneath her own.

They pant heavily, in unison, into each others necks as they start to come down.

He feels good, accomplished. He can feel that satisfaction rolling off of his girl in waves—felt it throughout their soft session—and it was more than enough to keep him happy. His orgasm was just a much appreciated bonus.

And Y/N… she feels great. Cunt clenching over his half-hard cock, full of him, literally, in every way she could be. Thoughts silenced and replaced with rose hued daydreams, floaty, fuzzy sensations that tingle through her entire body and make her slightly sluggish, slow. She feels fucking amazing.

“Hope it takes…” she admits softly, absently. The phrase slips off of her tongue without thought (we’ve established that their are none left in that subby head of hers), and her tone suggests she’s not expecting a reaction.

He gives her one, anyway.

“Say that again,” he demands, grip on her ass tightening, his voice grumbly, deep, shooting a shiver up her spine.

“Huh?”

“Tell Daddy what the fuck you just said, Babydoll.”

Her eyes round out even more, if possible, lips parted, gazing owlishly. Stupidly.

“Said, ‘I hope it takes,’ Daddy,” She whimpers quietly, squeezing around his, once again, stiff prick.

“Shit,” he hisses, eyes fluttering.

It’s like she wanted to stay locked on his cock all night.

…Oh well.

So be it.

“It’ll take, Sugar,” he says after a few moments of tense silence, shifting her up gently, manhandling her with a softness that makes her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. He presses a chaste kiss to her mouth, sweet. Contradictory.

“Daddy’ll make it take.”

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spidernerdsblog · 1 year

Text

flexible

A/N : another blurb inspired by a prank video. Hope you like this. Let me know what you think.

Summary : you prank your boyfriend by putting him in the positions he puts you in during sex.

Pairing : Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings : mature content

You were hanging out at Peter’s dorm room, sitting on the couch and scrolling through your social media accounts.

“Hey whatcha doing?” Peter asks, walking into the living room. You look up from your phone.

“Nothing, just watching this tiktok on some special yoga poses. Apparently only women can do these very easily.” It was a lie in the video the girlfriend was pranking her boyfriend by putting him in the positions he puts her in during sex.

“That’s rubbish, it just depends on your body’s flexibility.” Peter says.

“You think you’re flexible enough to do these?” a mischievous smirk plays on your lips as you raise an eyebrow baiting him.

“Babe look who you’re talking to. I’m spiderman, I'm flexible AF.” He states placing his hands on his hips with an air of confidence

Oh this is gonna be fun you thought, putting away your phone and standing up from the couch. “Ok let’s see how flexible you are.”

“Yeah, let's do it!” He says excitedly pumping his fist in the air.

“For the first pose you need to lie down on your back.” You instruct as Peter goes to lie down on the floor.

“Now bring your legs up” you tell him and he follows by lifting his legs up. “Yeah, just like that. Now spread them wide all the way”

“Like this?” He spreads his legs wide.

“Yeah and then grab the back of your thighs and pull up.” Holding by the thighs Peter pulls his legs up to his chest and you bite your lip to hide a smile.

“Do you feel it?” You ask.

“Kinda.” He replies.

God he’s so innocent you thought laughing silently to yourself deciding to carry on with the next position.

“For the next pose, turn on your side and bend your knees.” Peter follows your directions and turns on his left side. “Now lift the top leg up.”

He lifts his right leg up as you hum in approval. “Yeah, as high as you can.”

“Ooh I can feel this!” He tells and you purse your lips to keep the giggle from slipping out of you.

“Good now stand up.”

“This one is a bit rough, it's called the bunny hop. So you gotta squat down to your feet.” You explain as he squats down.

“Yeah great, now jump up and down.” Peter starts to hop on his feet. “No, no your feet should be on the ground just move your hips” he does as told and you swear to god watching him do that sent you on the verge of losing all control and laughing out like a maniac.

You quickly schooled your features and said. “Ok so for the last one get on the couch on your knees. Grab on the backrest.”

Peter gets on the couch kneeling and holds onto the backrest as you lift his left leg.

“Now lift this leg up and stick your ass out.” Just then Harry decides to stroll into the living room.

“Looking great Parker.” He opens the refrigerator to grab a beer bottle. “You guys taking a trip to the wild side? Should have asked me would’ve been happy to help.” He says while opening the bottle. Understanding finally dawned upon Peter as he jumped out of the couch with a mortified expression and you burst out laughing.

“Oh my god Y/N! You’re such an evil.” He cried out as he thought of all the sex positions you made him do.

“You don’t have a problem when you put me in those positions.” You tease both of your faces red yours from laughing too hard, his from embarrassment as he stomped back to his room.

“Always wanted to peg that ass.” Harry says, eyes focused at the open door of Peter’s room.

“Shut up Harry!” Peter yells from his room. Chuckling Harry takes a sip of his beer and saunters off to stand beside you, handing you another bottle.

“Pussy.” He mumbles and turns to you with a sultry look. “The offer still stands, you know. Just like I said before you’re welcome to watch…” he eyes you up and down. “Or join.”

Your lips curl into a smirk as you regard him with narrowed eyes. There have been quite a few times where Harry had openly admitted he’s attracted to both of you suggesting you guys should try doing threesome. “I’ll give it a thought.” You say clinking your bottle to his and take a sip.

#peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker blurb #peter parker fanfiction #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter smut #tasm!peter x reader #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield smut #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker x you #harry osborn #spiderman

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vivwritesfics · 1 year

Text

"I Know"

Peter Parker has the best girlfriend ever

1.1K

Peter Parker x Reader

I've been MIA for the longest time because the inspo just hasn't been there. But I've gotten away from university for a few days, and this is what came from my peaceful time alone

"I'm so sorry, baby," said Peter. He stood on top of a building, watching a bank robbery happening opposite. A bag full of snacks and two pairs of his favourite pyjamas lay discarded beside him, and Peter made a mental note to pick it up later. The wind was biting, but Peter didn’t care. His attention was split evenly between his girlfriend and the bank robbery.

This was not the first time he had flaked on date night, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. He and his girlfriend both knew. But Peter Parker had the most understanding girlfriend in the world.

"It's okay, Pete," she said. Peter could picture her now, snuggled up in her bed, waiting to change into a pair of his pyjamas, with her snack basket filled and her laptop loaded up with a Christmas movie. "Go... save the world."

It wasn't quite saving the world, but she made Peter smile. She always made Peter smile. Y/N was the most understanding person in the world. "I'll be at yours as soon as I can. Don't open the chocolate without me."

After that, Peter had no choice but to hang up. The bank robbery had started to wrap up and Peter had to stop them. He put his phone in his bag, pulled his mask over his face, and swung down to the bank. "You guys have ruined my date night."

“What the fuck?” One of the bank robbers dropped his white bag filled with green notes and swung a bat at Peter.

It was cartoon-y, how these robbers were behaving. The white bags, the notes flying all over the place. Their ski masks weren’t masks at all, but unfolded beanies with the eyeholes cut out. “Wait, can I get a picture? My girlfriend is going to love this.”

***

Y/N’s family loved Peter. Somehow, he’d never been late to dinner with her parents. Either criminals decided to take the day off, to let Peter have his dinner, or for once somebody else was cleaning up the city in his stead.

But not tonight.

“I’ll be maybe ten minutes late,” he said as he swung through the city. His suit was discarded, but his tie was still around his neck.

Y/N had her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she put in a pair of earrings. Dinners like these were a big deal to her parents. The whole family dressed up fancy, all of her sibling’s partners were invited and they had at least three courses. “Pete, babe, it’s fine. I’ll cover you.” And, as she said it, she didn’t sound disappointed at all.

Peter really had the best girlfriend in the world. “Holy shit, I love you,” he said, only just noticing his tie. But it was too late to remove it now. “Please send me the cover story.”

They said their goodbyes (with Y/N begging him to stay safe) and went to do their things. Peter fought the bad guy, managing to keep his rather expensive tie intact. Y/N finished getting dressed for dinner and went downstairs to greet her parents.

Her siblings and their partners were already downstairs, drinks in their hands.

“There she is!” Called her brother as Y/N stepped into the room. He checked his watch and feigned a frown. “Not like that boyfriend of yours to be late, is it?”

With her hands clasped behind her back, Y/N rocked on her heels. “Actually, Peters gonna be late today,” she said, hoping they weren’t going to ask anymore questions.

“That Parker boy is never late,” her father said, “What’s holding him up?”

Before now, Y/N hadn’t thought of an excuse for Peter. She had just hoped they wouldn’t ask, and then he could’ve come up with his own backstory. (Peter had gotten good at that).

“Uhh…His house�� caught fire? And his aunt… is in the hospital… with death?” oh yeah no this was not going well. “Oh! And the tire on his bike popped.”

Yes. That was very believable.

But nobody questioned it as Y/N sat beside her sister and her sister’s girlfriend. “He’ll be here soon.”

Her eyes shifted to the floor, which only made everything more believable. She pulled out her phone and sent Peter the cover story, just seconds before the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” She shouted, jumping up.

Racing to the front door, Y/N pulled it open to see Peter stood there, still sorting out his suit. “You are so lucky nobody else answered the door,” she said and buttoned up his shirt correctly. “I sent you over the cover story,” she whispered and kissed his cheek.

Pulling him into the house, Y/N pushed him towards her father. “Hello, Mr L/N! Sorry, I’m late, my tire burst.”

Suddenly, Y/N’s mother came running out of the kitchen. “Peter, my dear!” She shouted and pulled him in for a hug. “I’m so sorry to hear about May and your house. You can stay here for as long as you need!” She cried, running her fingers through her hair. He looked at Y/N with her brows furrowed. ‘Go with it’, she mimed. “How about we all go and visit May as soon as we’re finished with dinner?”

“Oh! Please, Mrs L/N. That’s not necessary.” Peter pulled away from his girlfriend’s mother and grabbed Y/N’s hand. “Can I have a word with you upstairs?” He asked her, and Y/N allowed herself to be pulled up to her bedroom.

As soon as the door was shut Y/N was wrapped around him. “I missed you,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Missed me so much you told your family that May was in the hospital?”

“And that your house burnt down,” she said quietly, laying her head on his chest. “I know I said I’d cover for you, but I’m not very good at it, Pete.” Her arms snaked around his middle, sitting beneath his blazer.

Peter’s phone suddenly buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and frowned once he looked at it. “Oh god, what is it?” Asked Y/N, looking up at Peter with wide eyes.

“Baby, I love you but, I’ve got to go. I swear this’ll-”

“It’s okay, Peter, I know.”

Peter kissed her. It was slow, yet oh so intense. One of those kisses that makes you gasp. “I have the best girlfriend in the world.”

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x female reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker smut #tasm!peter parker x reader smut #andrew garfield #andrew garfield imagine #spider-man #the amazing spider man

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peterparkerslefttesticle · 2 years

Text

Fuck or Die

a peter parker sex pollen fic

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: peter comes into contact with sex pollen and his best friend wants to take away the pain

NO MINORS!!!!

not edited

“stay the fuck away from me. please,”

it had been a week since you’d seen your best friend, peter. he’d been away on a mission, along with a few other avengers.

being the baby of the team, you definitely weren’t told everything. or anything really, if it didn’t directly affect you.

“just tell me what is going on!” you screamed at the quarantined boy, voice muffled through the thick glass.

peter was crying at this point, an all consuming burn firing through his veins, predominately the veins down low.

“sweetheart come with me. your not helping by screaming at him,” tony tried peeling you from the hall, but you stood your ground

“why does no one tell me what’s happening? when are you guys going to stop treating me like a baby, i’m 18 for fucks sake!” now peter wasn’t the only one crying.

out of the corner of your cloudy vision you could see his form cowering in the corner, convulsing almost.

“please! he’s my best friend. i deserve to know what’s going on!”

“it’s not about us keeping information from you. it’s just that this is… sensitive.” stark’s brow wrinkled, stress emanating from his form.

this time when he pulled you away, tou didn’t fight.

sensitive?

what could possibly be sensitive enough that you can’t know why your best friend looks like he’s about to die???

once in the lab, you and the iron man sit down.

“look kid, something happened on our mission,”

“yeah no shit,” if looks could kill, stark would’ve murdered you months ago. but probably gotten wanda to resurrect you so his steely gaze could kill you again now.

“i’m serious. parker was doing recon in one of fisk’s bases while we fought his men outside. he found a thing… some sort of explosive gas. when he picked one up for closer inspection it erupted.” tony looked apprehensive, almost waiting for an eruption of his own.

“ok. i’m just gonna say it. sex pollen. it was sex pollen. there’s no way around it. peter exploded a sex pollen bomb.”

the way your jaw unhinged looked inhumane. “WHAT?” you gaped. “like, that weird shit from fanfiction? like the weird shit that makes someone fuck or die? are we in the fucking omega verse right now???”

“i’m going to pretend i know what the omega verse is,” the man clears his throat, “but uh, kind of? he won’t die, but unless he… y’know.. he’ll just kind of be in an unimaginable state of pain for the next,” he checks his watch, “22 hours.”

it took a minute to process the aforementioned information. peter had been affected by sex pollen? you guessed that explained his need to be away from you. but imagining your poor peter in pain for almost another day?

“so why aren’t you doing anything? wait that came out wrong.”

this was probably the most awkard conversation you’d had with tony, even after he caught you “making out” with brad in senior year.

“i meant to say, what’s being done to help him? surely there’s something. i know it’ll pass but fuck, i can’t live with myself knowing pete’s in that room hurting.” you felt a pit of guilt lounging in your gut.

wait it was guilt right? why does your guilt feel like it’s… lower… than it should be.

were you seriously fucking TURNED ON from thinking about your best friend being so horny that it hurts? well, if you worded it like that, yeah.

“we offered him… services. not from us obviously. like, paid services. or anything he wants. but he refused. something about ‘respecting women’ yada yada yada.” stark jests, but you can see the fatherly worry seeping out.

with out another thought, you leave tony in the lab and spring back to parker’s quarantine unit.

“pete you need to accept help! look at yourself” he was worse for wear, even since you saw him 10 minutes ago

his suit was half off his body, which was dripping with sweat. and as much as you tried to ignore it, a large bulge had appeared through the fabric.

he could barely meet your eyes, his own bloodshot, hair matted to his forehead.

“you know i can’t. i can’t control my strength like this. i could hurt someone.” the spider cried out

“not me,” your eyes finally lock. “you can’t hurt me. you know that. we’ve trained together. i’m stronger than you.”

your powers may have made your life a living nightmare, but the strength was definitely a plus. you had sparred countless times, and not once had he hurt you. or beat you for that matter.

“i- i can’t” his voice broke as his body convulsed once more, ungloved hands going to cover his dick.

“if you want to, you can. I’m here pete. I don’t want to see you like this. And i don’t want you to worry about all your moral shit. your not taking advantage of me. your not going to hurt me. i want this. i want to help you, if that’s what you want.”

silence. a few beats go by, before a small “please” meets your ears.

in a blink of an eye you slide your hand over the sensor, unlocking the door to his cell.

your heart broke to a million pieces seeing the broken boy. if you didn’t know better you would have assumed he was succumbing to a deathly injury.

“curtains. there’s curtains.” he gestures to blue hospital curtains that have the potential to cover the glass wall between them and the hall way.

as you pull the curtain, the last thing you see is a worried/disgusted/embarrassed tony. poor guy. knowing his ‘son’ and new recruit were about to get it on.

“FRIDAY, lock down and sound proof the floor once i get in the elevator.” tony yelled, mumbling something about ‘for the good of mankind’.

you drop to your knees next to peters warm frame. the restraint he used to not fuck you right there looked painful.

“If you want this, I want this. I would do anything for you spidey. even if it means fucking my best friend into oblivion,” you say to him, a strained chuckle leaving his chest.

“i won’t be able to stop. i would rather go through this a hundred times then hurt you or screw up our friendship.”

“you won’t. i can handle it. please fuck me pete.”

he turns to a rabid animal with the speed he meshes your lips. the carnal devouring of your face dials up your arousal, and he can smell it.

“wow. you’re fucking sick. getting turned on by your best friend in pain,” he mumbled into your neck, trailing teeth and tongue down your décolletage.

you couldn’t even form a response, to focused on the way his bear chest felt under your fingers, and the way his boner grinded into your crotch.

practised hands pop open the buttons of your shirt, and i clasp the bra you donned. thank god you wore a nice one today.

“mmm pretty bra. planning on fucking brad later?” the boy teased.

“only you. always you.” you grinded harder onto his cock, frustrated at the layers separating you.

“fuck i’ve always dreamt of fucking you. fucking you so good. so so good” a piercing cry leaves your lips as he bites your nipple, kissing it better after.

his tongue was magic, working its way all over your chest. he groped and grasped your breast, alternating one in his mouth, one in his mouth.

even with all his talk, you could see his facade fading.

“peter just fuck me. i know you need it.”

“but what about yo-“

“pete i’m soaked. i’m fine. i just want to make you feel better.” with this, he lets you take charge. he (attempts) to rip his suit off while you pull down your sweats, and eventually a lacy pair of panties.

a guttural groan leaves his lips when he sees the glistening mound before him, he goes to put his mouth forward, but you stop him, kneeling over his lap despite his whine.

“i told you. this is about you. making you feel better.” you laughed at his pathetic attempt at removing the sweat soaked suit.

you pull it down just enough to reveal his angry member. it was thicker than you were used to, longer as well, and a small wave of fear rolled through your stomach.

his dick was red, twitching and leaking. you could practically feel his pain just by looking at it.

he hissed when you slid him up your slit, soaking it with your juices.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered as he slammed your hips down onto him. the scream you let out would definitely surpass stark’s soundproofing.

tears stream down his face at the relief of your silk pussy embarrassing his dick. but he didn’t have long to revel in the comfort. he continued to slam into you with a brutal pace. the erotic wet sounds were enough to put porn to shame.

both of your faces contorted with the pleasure.

“fuck spider you’re fucking me so good. i wanna make you come. want your cum to fill my pussy so good.” his pace was so bruising that his groin pounded into your clit with every thrust.

you couldn’t warn him of the imminent coil about to burst as you gushed around his erection. no noise came out of your mouth except for the unholy moans and expletives.

something you never expected about pete, was his vocalness in bed. god, you would be imagining his noises for weeks to come, hand between your legs.

he was louder than you, which you didn’t think possible, though none of it was legible. his broken words were drowned out by his heavenly moans. with every thrust there came a new ‘ugh’, ‘ngugh’, and ‘fuhhh’.

and god did it get you going.

just listening to his groans had you verging on another orgasm. and he wasn’t too far behind.

peter kept repeating the words “soon” and “close”.

“god pete your so hot. so good to me. fucking me so good. please come baby. i want your cum to fill me up so good. need it baby. need your cum.” you slammed your hips down to meet his every movement, chasing the fast approaching high.

“i’m coming. coming. gonna come,” and with the most dirty, unholy, erotic noise ever made before, peter came.

you could feel the warm seed filling your cunt as you reached your peak, fucking his cum deeper into your cavity.

peter collapsed almost immediately, chest heaving as he sprawled onto the cold foor. you followed in suit, falling flat onto his chest, dick still sheathed inside.

it was deadly silent for at least 5 minutes, and you were sure he had fallen asleep until you head him say “i didn’t hurt you did i?” he lifted your body up, allowing his softened member to leave your body.

“i told you i could handle it, and i did.” you looked up to meet his tired eyes “you didn’t hurt me pete. and even if you had it would have been worth it. how are you feeling now?”

you brushed some hair out of his face, his soft breath brushing against yours. “god i feel so much better. i’m forever indebted to you. that hurt like a bitch.” he chuckled and closed his eyes. “seriously though, thank you. i don’t know what i did to deserve a friend like you.” he wrapped his strong arms around your waist, both of you choosing to ignore the bear skin and leaking fluids pouring you of your pussy.

he whined when you got up, and for a second you thought he would pull you back down. you entered the joined bathroom to get towels.

with gentle hands you soaked up the sticky substances residing over parker’s stomach “i think you’re gonna need this dry cleaned.” you mention, staring at the very stained suit.

he jerked when you gently wiped his cock, but relaxed into your touch nonetheless.

“i think we permanently traumatised mr stark,” peter chortled as he pulled your now clean body into the folding cot that lay in the room.

you giggled with him “yeah, i’m pretty sure even with the soundproofing the entire tower could hear you.” you smirked

the boy turned beet red, and nestled his face into yours, “hey! it wasn’t just me!”

the two of you spent the rest of the night on the small bed, neither with the strength to leave the room.

peter fell asleep first, but you stayed up a little to ponder the future of your friendship after today. however confused you may be, one thing was definitely sure.

there was no way you weren’t fucking peter parker again

#spiderman #peter parker #spiderman smut #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #fanfiction #smut #marvel #marvel smut #the avengers #avengers smut #andrew garfield smut #tom holland smut #tom holland

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literaila · 6 months

Note

hey v ! what about peter and reader getting ready to go somewhere and after reader puts on some red lipstick peter can't stop kissing her ?

lipstick

warnings: ugh, peter

“how many times have you done that?”

peter is standing behind you, leaning against the wall, probably ruining your focus, or your makeup, or your sanity. he’s probably staring just to mess with you.

you refrain from smiling in the mirror. wipe a smudge with your nail. “i don’t know, peter,” you meet his eyes, and his nefarious smirk. “how many times have you watched me do it?”

“i got lost somewhere around the first time.”

you laugh at him, crumbling the napkin you’ve been using, now filled with kiss marks, and turning it around so you can throw it at peter. “are you sick?” you ask him.

instead of answering, he licks his lip and unfolds the napkin, staring at the red marks, creases and tireless efforts arranged in a messy pattern. “this is like art.”

“why are you acting like you’ve never seen anyone wear lipstick before?”

“what?” he asks, hand to his chest. “i cant watch you get ready? i’m banned from being in the bathroom when you are?”

“yes, and yes.”

it does not escape your notice when peter tucks the napkin into his pocket for safekeeping.

he shrugs. “i don’t mind breaking the rules.”

you scoff at him and pat his shoulder as you walk past him through the doorway. “i would’ve locked you out if i knew you were going to be weird about it.”

“weird? how am i being weird?”

“you were lurking. you’re still lurking.”

“i’m talking to my girlfriend. that’s part of our contract.”

“you’re following me.”

peter smiles. “well, i like you.”

you roll your eyes, almost—almost—smiling when you feel his arms wrap around your waist. “please don’t make me argue about your stalker like tendencies.”

“we don’t have to argue,” peter says, kissing the space beneath your ear. his breath is hot.

“i need to put my shoes on, peter.”

he smiles, his teeth clashing against your skin like a dreadful reminder. some type of jumpscare—minus the fact that you merely lean into him, sans jumping. “we can spare fifteen minutes.”

“how can you be thinking about anything besides the fact that we’re already late to meet may?”

he nibbles on the skin by your collarbone, then licks it, as reprieve. “it must be the lipstick.”

“you’ve literally seen me with lipstick before. i wore some on our first date.”

“‘s probably why i like it so much.”

his lips are needy as they crawl around your skin. his hands are stationary, but they pose their own threat as they lurk.

“peter, we have to go.”

“i’m not known for my punctuality,” he spins you around, his lips curled in mischief, “you know.”

“i’m aware.”

you refuse to indulge him. your brows furrow, your hands held in the air—just so you can avoid accidentally touching him. purposefully.

“then why are you so worried?” peter asks, kissing your cheek.

“i’m not kissing you,” you say, instead of answering.

“you’re not?” peter pouts like a child. he is far too grown.

“no.”

“how come?”

you try to pull away from him, but, shockingly, peter is stronger than you are. your will is weak. “you’re going to smudge my lipstick. i just finished.”

“you have more, don’t you?”

“not the point.”

“what?” he asks, his voice so serious and teasing. “you don’t want to kiss me?”

“no, i do not.”

you look away from him, admiring a wall that has always been there.

“are you sure?” peter asks, ducking so he can catch your eyes again, because he is nothing if not cruel.

you break, pouting. “peter,” you whine, “we’re not going to be late again.”

“i think we are.”

“you can kiss me when we get home later,” you promise, trying again to wiggle out of his grasp.

“that is a terrible compromise.”

“you won’t compromise,” you snap back. “what else am i supposed to do?”

peter grins, tilting his head. “okay. i have an idea. how about i kiss you, and then we leave? you don’t even have to kiss back, even though we’d both prefer it that way.”

“i’ll kiss you,” you mock him. “you’re the worst negotiator i’ve ever met.”

“then how come we haven’t left yet?”

you scowl at him, and he scowls back, but his eyes are alight.

your skin is ravenous with an ache to touch him, he’s so close that kissing him would be nothing—merely breathing, really—but you don’t want to lose this game to peter. and you dont want him to stop looking at you.

he pretends to check a watch. “hmm, it’s getting awfully late.”

“are you british all of the sudden?”

peter grins, biting his lip before he tries to bite you. you lean away. “if you like my accent, all you have to do is say so.”

“i like it when you get out of my way, and stop trying to sabotage me. i like that a lot.”

“no clue what you mean, dear.”

you roll your eyes and manage to cross your arms in his hold.

“i wonder how we could solve this,” peter muses, tapping his finger on your waist. “it’s a big problem.”

“i could leave you behind and have lunch with may myself.”

“that’s one option.”

you roll your eyes again.

“i was thinking something else, though,” peter says, and he’s closer now, but you’re sure that you never saw him move. “something more… proactive.”

“shove it, peter.”

“you don’t even want to hear it?”

you sigh, leaning your chest into him, out of pure delusion. “fine. what?”

peter smiles at you, eyes catching eyes.

the look on his face is soft, delirious. he’s got that look in his eyes, and that smile on his face, and he’s still staring at you like he’s mesmerized by whatever you’re doing.

“what?” you repeat, but softly, like you can’t find your voice in the chest cavity peters taken hold of.

“kiss me,” he says, softly, and it’s really not your fault that his lips are already brushing yours.

and it’s not your fault when you lean in, sighing in relief at the mere feel of him.

you’re almost breathless, from the tiniest of kisses.

but then you kiss peter again, and again, and your hands finally wrap around him—keeping hold of something real in this fake reality—and your voice isn’t your own when you groan at peter for making you do this.

you have evacuated your body. you have lost common sense.

but it doesn’t matter, because kissing peter has always made you forget all of that.

and it still does, when he pulls back, grinning like he’s won. “see?” he says, voice ragged. “it was simple.”

“we’re going to be late and it’s your fault.”

peter laughs, kissing you again, staring at your red lips. “gladly. i’ll take all the blame.”

“and you’re making it up to me later.”

“whatever you say,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your bottom lip.

he releases you and watches as you finally put on your shoes.

you don’t think it necessary to mention the red marks on his lips. it’s not like it’s your fault they’re there.

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fivelakesinwriting · 1 year

Note

can i get make up sex with andrew? plsss

Author's Notes: Thank you for the request, and your patience. I'm sorry it took me so long to get this out - and I hope this is something similar to what you had imagined. Please let me know what you think if you have a moment - messages, comments and feedback are greatly appreciated! Thank you! xoxo

Warnings: Swearing, Established relationship, Mentions of drinking, Mentions/ threats of violence - no acts of violence, Sexual references - sexual innuendos, Smut * (angry Andrew is v. dom I believe this wholeheartedly, spanking) MINORS DNI

Requested? Yes. Requests are closed for the time being.

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. And you do not have permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

It wasn't often that Andrew got angry with her. In fact, he considered himself to be more of the cool, calm and collected type. He was able to let things roll off his shoulders and move on with with his life, never sweating the small stuff.

But today, she was being a downright pain in his ass. A brat, and she was pushing every single button he had. His shoulders were tense, the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up while his top lip curled in anger. He balled his fists at his sides as he made a beeline over to her across the bar, his chest puffed up to assert his dominance.

"Let's go. Home time, yeah?" Andrew grumbled close to her ear as she leaned over the bar talking to some cretin just to make him mad. She tossed her hips from side to side as she held herself up on her elbows on the bar, her shirt low and showing off her breasts.

"I'm not ready. I'm talking to - what was your name again?" She slurred as she sipped her cocktail and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"Doesn't matter, man. She's with me. Think you made your point, lovey." Andrew glared at the man trying to pick up his girlfriend then turned his gaze to his woman.

"If the lady doesn't want to leave-" The guy to Andrew's right spoke up, and that was all he could take. Andrew slammed his fists on the bar as he turned to the stranger and glared.

"She's my fucking girlfriend and she only talking to you to piss me off. And it fucking worked. Now, back the fuck off before I put you in the ground." Andrew snarled through his teeth.

The lady? The lady? Fuck this guy. She was his woman. And Andrew was ready to fight for her. She was just pouty with him because he didn't want to dance with her, so she stomped away and pulled in some poor sap to tease. Andrew watched from afar, letting her play her game, but eventually it got out of hand and he had to intercept. Said poor sap didn't even know he was a pawn in their game.

Andrew looked the guy over menacingly once more before he placed a hand on the back of his girlfriend's neck and pulled her away from the bar, her whine audible.

"How far were you going to let that go? That motherfucker was about to put his hands on you." Andrew growled as he led her to their car, unlocking it. He pinned her to the side of the car, and looked her over. Her drunk body was weak as she reached for his shirt and twisted it in her hands to show off his abs.

"I knew you were watching me. And I wouldn't have let him touch me. I wasn't upset like that. I just wanted your attention." She cooed, standing on her toes to kiss his mouth.

"Well, I'm upset with you. You're too friendly when you're drunk. And you're being a brat today. It makes me - "

"What?" She whispered against his lips as she staggered her nose over his. She loved to egg him on when she got into moods like this, sending sparks of electricity through his body.

"It makes me want to tie you up, make you scream my name and beg to let you cum. Spank your ass until it's red and you're a fucking mess for me, telling me how sorry you are. Because I'm in fucking charge. I'm your man." Andrew growled as he took hold of her chin to gently, but with intention guide her to look at him.

"I'll let you take me home and do whatever you want to me, baby." She breathed out with a smile as she reached for his belt buckle.

"Get your ass in the car. Now." Andrew murmured as he released her chin and walked over to the other side of the car.

Andrew drove them home in a tense silence, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He walked inside their house without a word to her, his hands running over his face while he pursed his lips.

"Baby, are you - "

"M'not your baby right now. Understand me? Do as I ask and I'll let you touch, let you finish." Andrew growled as he grabbed her hair and pulled, forcing her to look up at him. She was so pretty, so fucking needy still and he hated how his body just ignited for her.

"Okay." She whispered as she curled her body into his.

"Get your ass in bed, pants off and ass in the air. Go." Andrew snapped with a tug of her hair before he released her from his grip. He watched her scurry to their bedroom, his body unbearably hot as he looked at her hips sway for him.

Andrew took a moment, rolled his neck and pulled his shoulders back before he slowly, but with purpose, walked to their bedroom. He exhaled heavily when he saw her on the bed exactly as he had requested - bottomless, ass in the air and reaching for their headboard.

"So, you can listen to me. You just choose what to hear." Andrew growled as he removed his ball-cap and shrugged out of his button up. He stood at the foot of the bed, eyes fixed on her backside.

"You're so hot for me right now, don't lie." She cooed as she lazily tossed her hips from side to side, enticing him to touch her.

"Never said I wasn't. Fucking brat." Andrew snarled as he pulled his wrist back and snapped it forward, smacking her left ass cheek making her gasp out loud. He ran his palm over her stinging flesh, then moved his hand to the other side to spank her again.

"Hold the headboard. Wrist over wrist. C'mon, let's go." Andrew grunted as he knelt behind her on the bed and covered her body with his to guide her hands above her head.

"Andrew.."

"I meant what I said in the lot, lovey. Use your lights if you need. But you are mine and I'm going to make sure you know it." Andrew breathed out as he took hold of her pretty face to turn her gaze towards him.

"Green light." She whispered as she arched her back, her backside rubbing into his lap while he kept his body over hers.

"The only man you should toss these hips around for is me. Do you understand?" Andrew growled as he pulled his body upright and spanked her again, hard.

"Yes." She shivered, hands gripping the headboard tightly.

"You don't tease other men to get a rise out of me. You're mine. You're fucking mine. Do you understand me?" Andrew spat as he spanked her one more time then pulled his body away from hers to slowly undress himself.

"No, come back ! M'sorry, baby. Please let me go. Let me see your face." She sobbed out as she curled into him, trying to make their bodies one, her hips pushing back to find him again.

"That didn't take long. Thought you had more fight in you than that, lovey." Andrew murmured as he reached up to tap her wrists, let her know she could bring them back down. He let out a soft gasp as she turned over in his arms and knocked him to his back, her affection abundant.

"I don't want to play like that anymore. I don't like when you're mad at me, and won't let me touch. M'sorry I was a pain, baby. I love you."She whispered as she kissed his neck, her body curling into his desperate for his attention.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you, lovey. But I felt so territorial watching you with that guy. I fucking hated it. Don't do that to me again. Even for my attention. You have all of my attention. I promise you." Andrew breathed out as he grabbed her hips to cease her tantalizing movement and flipped her onto her back again. He laid between her legs and kissed her neck lovingly, softly, as she whined for him.

"M'sorry, baby." She repeated as she twisted her fingers into his hair, her legs wrapped around his waist to keep him close.

"I know, lovey. I am, too." Andrew mumbled into the crease of her neck as his hips pinned hers to the mattress. He kissed his way back to her lips, smiling as she kissed him back with force and locked her feet beneath his backside.

He hadn't wanted to dance with her at the bar because he knew if he got close to her, let her push back against him, he would feel just as needy as her. He knew that he would feel feral in an almost unbearable way, and he didn't want to feel like that out in public. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy feeling like that for her, but he wanted to be in a space that allowed them immediate intimacy.

He was inside of her instantly. The push and pull of the two of them was unbearable for the evening and was erased in that moment. He held his weight on his forearms as he rested his forehead against hers, their bodies moving as one.

He loved her, and he would always fight for her. She was his, and he was hers.

**I have stopped doing a tag list for the time being as well as taking requests, just while I get my "ducks" in a row after coming back.Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much xoxo

#andrew garfield fan fic #andrew garfield x reader smut #andrew garfield one shot #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield x female reader #andrew garfield x you #andrew garfield fic #andrew garfield #andrew garfield blurb #andrew garfield imagine #andrew garfield smut

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swtki · 2 years

Text

Too Nice To Talk To - P.P

Masterlist

Pairing: TASM! Peter Parker x Fem! Reader

Summary: Peter loves her, the only problem is that she’d be in so much danger if he dare spoke to her

Warnings: Swearing, if you choose to listen to the song they do say the R slur in it. (it was the 80s), very dramatic Peter, mostly fluff, reader doesn’t know Peter is Spiderman

A/N: I love this song SO much

Too Nice To Talk To - Wha’ppen? - The English Beat

Its too late now, its twenty past two. I spent the night just watching you.

Making sure you were safe, that there wasn’t a single threat around.

I watched you every night, no matter where you were. You could be walking home with some girlfriends, and I was lurking in the shadows, making sure nobody followed you all. Or you could be home, dancing in her kitchen as you reheated last nights Indian food, butter chicken. The place downstairs from your apartment had the best butter chicken in Queens.

Now I think quite a lot as I stare at my shoes, About all these things that I put myself through.

Why do I watch you so intensely if I know I could never make you mine? I don’t know, Y/N. Theres something alluring about you. But ultimately, I know, you’re too nice to talk to.

I could never forgive myself if I hurt this ray of sunshine. Just by introducing myself as anything other than your friendly neighborhood spider-man could cause my enemy to pounce on you. To get to me.

One time, I did think about introducing myself as Peter Parker. We were in the subway, you were standing a foot away from me, and I glance but you just stare me through.

But eventually, I got my chance to talk to you. Unfortunately, it was because you were almost getting mugged. Of course, I stepped in right as the gun was pulled out. I knocked him out, webbing him to the wall. You looked at me, shocked. unsure of what to say. Finally, you spoke.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it! What else is the friendly neighborhood Spider-man for?”

You smile and start walking away. I should have said something, I should have made my move.

So, I went back to watching you. Until I couldn’t. I tapped on your window one night, your fourth story apartment window. You look confused and then shocked when you saw my big white eyes staring back at you. You opened your window.

“Hey spider- man, can I help you?“ You were unsure how to feel about me.

“Patrol is a bit boring tonight, came to see if I could offer a pretty lady like yourself any flowers.” I pulled the bouquet from behind my back.

Your eyes widened and you froze. “How did you- why did you- what?” but nevertheless you grasped them in your hands and you welcomed me into your apartment.

“Sorry it’s not the cleanest.” You said, kicking a pile of clothes under the bed. I’d plopped down onto the plush floor and looked around.

“This is a very nice room.” You rolled your eyes and we walked out into the main kitchen and living area.

“So,” You pull a vase out of the cabinet, it’s purple, your roommates favourite color it would seem. “Do you make pit stops to give all the women in queens a bouquet of flowers, or am I special?” My face burned under my mask, you were looking at me, talking to me.

“Just you. There’s something about you, Y/N.”

Your eyebrows raised, and for a minute I thought I’d offended you. Felt such a fool I felt you knew, But you might tell me to go away.

“Do you, um, do you want something to drink?” You turned to the fridge and opened it. “I have beer, hard cider, Dr. Pepper, sprite?”

I laughed, “tap water, if you have it of course” You laughed back.

“Of course.”

I wanted to throw myself at you, to kiss you right then and there.

This evening hasn't gone like I planned, Should I take the situation in hand?

Unfortunately, I chose the other end of the bad choice spectrum.

You handed the glass to me, to which I drank in one swift move.

“How did you know my-“ You started,

“Well, I should be going, thanks for the water!” I ran Out the window you might say I'm out of of my mind.

But you're too nice to talk to.

Too nice.

REBLOG IF YOU LIKE! REBLOGS ARE MORE HELPFUL THAN LIKES !!!

Taglist:

@mssbridgerton

@Katiekatbooks

@augustvandyne

@babyhoneymp4

@raajali3

@dreamy-clousds

#tasm peter parker #peter parker fanfic #spiderman x you #spiderman x reader #andrew garfield x reader smut #andrew garfield x reader #andrew!peter smut #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker x fem #peter parker songfic #songfic #mcu imagine #mcu x reader #marvel x reader #spiderman songfic

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imkindaschizoidontknow · 2 months

Text

Stress reliever

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: Peter Parker needs to relieve some stress 🤷‍♀️ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

W!: harsh language, oral (fem receiving), mature content, MINORS DNI

______________________________________________

Peter storms into her room after school.

“Can I eat you out?” He asks, he looks frustrated and tired, the way he asked that question was hastily, almost like he’d been waiting to ask that question since the moment he woke up.

“Huh?” She questions, she’s taken aback by his words, especially since he was acting completely normal today in school, what had gotten into him?

“Can I eat you out? Please?” He repeats, he looks at her expectantly and she laughs. “Well I’m not gonna turn down that offer” she chuckles and he throws his bag down on the floor of her room, quickly kicking the door shut as he slides off his shoes. “What’s gotten into you? Why do you wanna, well, you know” she questions. He’s never like this, he normally eats her out before sex. It’s never like this.

“I need to relieve some stress” he slips off his hoodie and throws it on the floor before laying next to her on her bed and placing a kiss to her lips. She smiles into the kiss, her heart racing. He fondles with her breast and her hand finds its way into his hair, tangling itself in the silky brown mess.

His hand moves from her chest and trails its way down to her lower stomach pressing lightly. She gasps as she feels his hand on her heat. “Fuck,” she gasps out and pulls away from the kiss. He sits up and crawls in between her legs pulling off her shorts and pressing his thumb against her clothed clit. She gasps and squeezes her eyes shut. He looks at her as he slides her underwear off. She can’t help but smile and bite her lip as she sees her boyfriend between her legs. She props her legs up on her feet to give him an easier access to her pussy. He snakes his arms under her legs, resting his large hands on her waist before he buries his head in her pussy, licking and sucking her clit, tasting her juices.

“Fuck!” She covers her mouth with her hands and her hands snake their way into his hair, pushing down on his head lightly. He emerges from her pussy, lightly rubbing her clit with his thumb. “Can you believe Mr. Harrington sent me to the principals office for showing up to his class late?” He says as he rubs her clit gently. “Ah~”

“Even though this was like, my first time showing up to his class late in, what, two fucking months! He’s so fucking selfish-“ he begins to rub her faster “F-fuck! Ah,” “And not only that, we had to have an emergency Decathlon meeting because Abe forgot to send in our paperwork to qualify for the tournament this year!” He slows down rubbing her clit, but he moves his hand down to her hole, “Ah, oh, gosh!” “So now, fucking Cindy and I have to redo all of the goddamn paperwork!” He pushes a finger inside of her “Oh fuck,” “Abe’s a cunt, I hope he dies. He could’ve just told somebody else to do it” “mm~ mmhm” “Like, if you know you have fucking badminton practice the same time you received the email to do the paperwork, then you could’ve just told Harrington that you had badminton! Can you believe that!?” “Mm~ y-yeah baby, unbelievable,” he begins to quicken the pace of his finger inside of her, and she gasps, “Oh! Gosh! Peter!” “Decathlon has me so tired, M’sorry that I don’t hang out with you much anymore because of it,” “N-No, it’s, ah, it’s f-fine” he sticks another finger inside of her, “Oh! And also, and especially this, is what ruined my day even more! I was in line for lunch and I decided to buy a jell-O, because I don’t usually have enough money to buy it, but they raised the price by 3 goddamn dollars!” “Ah! Fuck,” “I know, right! I wanted to cry, I just wanted some fucking jell-O,” “oh gosh! Peter,”

He quickens the pace of the fingers inside of her and buries his head in his pussy, his tongue circling around her clit, “and the lunch lady told me that I was short, but she basically yelled it out for everyone and their mom the hear!” “Fuck! Peter!” “Oh, sorry” he licks her clit quickly as he fingers her pussy. “Oh! Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum!” “Cum for me baby,” he says as he slurps up all of her juices, and he quickens the pace of his fingers inside of her, “Oh! Ah, I’m, I’m cumming!” Her back arches off the bed as he cums, hot liquid oozing out of her and onto his fingers “good girl,” he praises her as he takes slows down the pace of his fingers and stops licking her.

“You’re so pretty when you cum,” he praises her as he watches her chest rise and fall, she asks “fuck, how stressed were you?” And he laughs, “did I make you cum that hard?” “Yes! I can’t feel my legs!”

“Aw, I’m sorry, honey, I’ll make it up to you” he slips his finger out of her pussy and sucks on them slowly and seductively, as he stares at her, “You’re such a slut!” She says and he laughs, “I can’t help it, you taste so sweet”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I am SO sorry for that ending 😭 I could’ve done that better but hopefully you enjoyed the rest of it

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker #smut #marvel smut #marvel mcu #tom holland #andrew garfield #tobey maguire #marvel

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lovelettersforthedamned · 6 months

Text

thinking about nerdy!peter...

--gif credits: @capinejghafa

-first of all...his glasses oh my god. peter looks so delicious with his glasses, and it makes you melt.

-especially in the morning when his hair is a mess and he's still in that half awake state. oh my godddd.

-nerdy!peter loves a good movie night. he's lowkey a movie guy, but won't admit it. he loves to geek out about the little things while watching a movie you've never seen, but he's seen a million times.

-peter's pretty quiet, but is a more outgoing when he's around you. it took some time before he could come out of his shell, but with you, it was easy.

-when you guys go out to parties or get togethers, he doesn't talk much. he usually is stuck by your side all the way until you guys get home.

-nerdy!peter loves to figure out what your interests are and cater them around you. like if you're obsessed with a certain artist right now, he will make it his mission to get you every single album from them.

-he loves to get you flowers, and he especially loves to surprise you with them.

-sure, he's pretty quiet and awkward, but he knows when to step in when things get a little crazy. he suddenly loses all of his introverted tendencies when something happens, especially when it involves you.

-he would fully bend backwards for you. he thinks that you're an angel reincarnate, and that you deserve the entire world. or, at least the best parts of it.

-sometimes he has these thoughts that you could do better than him:(...you always reassure him because he is quite literally the sweetest boyfriend ever?? like hellooo?????

NSFW BELOW!! MINORS IF YOU SEE THIS, YOU'RE SO GROUNDED!!!!!!!!

-lets be real, nerdy!peter is a virgin when you met. teaching him about being intimate wasn't hard, but you didn't want to rush things with him. if you were his first, you wanted it to be special and loving for him.

-peter is so submissive at first, but when he gets more comfortable around you, he realizes that seeing you under him is something he can get used to.

-since the first time peter has tasted you, he can't get enough. sometimes he'll just eat you out for hours. you try to do something in return, but he says he's alright and that "seeing you cum was more than enough."

-when you guys do have sex, he goes hard. of course, you've had very slow and intimate sex, but holy shit??? peter likes to fuck you, hard.

-aftercare with him is so special. you want to make sure he feels loved every single time, especially since you are his first intimate partner. you often prioritize his needs before yours, but peter quickly realizes you need to be taken care of too. showers after are quiet, usually you are standing with him under the stream of hot water as you hold each other. you two are connected the entire time. all the way up to the moment you fall asleep, limbs wrapped around each other.

#peter parker x reader #andrew garfield peter parker #peter parker #fluff #peter parker smut #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #spiderman #marvel #nerdy!peter parker #peter parker headcanon

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venus616 · 1 year

Note

Hi!! Requesting a spicy tasm!peter fic where he puts his photography skills to use if ya know what I mean 🔥🫶🏽

his muse; {p.p.}

Pairing: peter parker x f!reader (gif is tasm but you can interpret this as any peter parker)

Summary: peter puts his photography skills to use when you're naked

Warnings: established relationship, smut, vaginal fingering/sex, oral sex (blowjob), praise kink (if you squint), photos during sex, language, unprotected sex, 18+, NSFW

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: hi. i love this trope So Much… like more than you will ever know, but bc i love it and i’ve seen it done multiple times with peter i was very scared to even do anything with it sjnksks but here is my finished product, i hope you like it~

(Also- it is my gift to anyone who actually likes reading my content bc ive been gone for a While and will be gone for another 2-3 weeks bc finals are not fun! so i hope this is good, enjoy!)

You’re putting away your shared laundry when you hear a loud noise on your window sill. You don’t even flinch this far into your relationship and only shake your head, separating your clothes from his. The window opens letting in a cool breeze and Peter’s book bag hits the ground before he gets inside.

It's only then you look and give his body, clad in his suit, a scan and smile. “You okay?” You ask. The sun already set and the crisp winter air started to fill the room.

He scoffs before shutting the window. You turn your body around from the basket in front of you to see Peter shaking his head while taking his camera out of his bag.

The professional camera Peter spent a year saving up for when he was 18 was sat next to your much less efficient Polaroid camera. On it, there was a photo of you two celebrating your anniversary together recently. The flash showing you kissing Peter on the cheek, he’s blushing at the attention and eyes closed from the flash.

Peter smiled at the memory before he continued speaking.

“Why do people think it’s okay to commit crime when I’m just getting off my shift?” He sighed before setting down his bag next to your bed.

“They’re so inconsiderate,” You pout playfully while folding his clothes into his reserved drawer at your place.

Peter looks up from unpacking and focuses on your ass poking up from your position. You feel his eyes on you as your t-shirt hangs loosely on your body, and the hair on your legs prick up from the cold in the room.

Peter takes off his mask revealing his disheveled hair and takes in the sight of you like it’s his last.

Your lacy underwear decorating the plump flesh of your butt, reminding Peter of how quickly he had to leave this morning before getting to appreciate for bandaging him up last night.

His eyes continued to scan up, seeing the old t-shirt frame your shape, admiring it as if he had x-ray vision.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Peter is brought out of his thoughts hearing your soft voice, taunting him for his staring problem.

“Don’t tempt me,” Peter quips back. He shakes his head before tossing his mask in your empty hamper. Sitting on your bed and bending over to remove his boots, his ears don’t miss your footsteps as you saunter to him.

You place your feet in between his while he looks back up to you, removing the rest of his suit.

“It’s never stopped you before,” You cross your arms while he slips out of his suit, leaving his web shooters on. The suit is strewn across the floor and your eyes focus on Peter’s body.

No matter how beat up he was, Peter remains to be the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You ran your hands over his, now, yellow ribs. Compared to the purple constellation he had yesterday, you were grateful for his superhuman healing.

He had a nasty fall yesterday, left with some scars and bruising, but thankfully this time you didn’t have to stitch him up.

You even notice the scratch on his arm is almost gone but Peter liked wearing your special bandaids. He likes giving you a reason to buy more cartoon ones for him.

Peter watches your eyes carefully scan his body for anything else and adores you for it. Still, he hates making you worry.

“You weren’t naked before.”

A smile creeps up on your face, a giggle disguised as a scoff when you answer: “I’m not naked.”

You don’t realize you set yourself up for Peter’s response until he smirks. His hands snake up underneath your shirt to toy with your nipples, already hard because of the cold air lingering in the room.

A hiss escapes your mouth at feeling his larger, colder hands grip your boobs. Peter slightly grins at his effect on you. He pulls at the bottom of your shirt before raising it up your body. You oblige, pulling it over your head to toss it across your room.

His face lit up at your frontal nudity, hands placed on either side of your hips tugging at your underwear.

“Let’s change that.”

You roll your eyes at his response, but not without a smile plastered on your face. You could feel the heat pooling in between your thighs and the excitement in your stomach.

“What position should I be in?” You shudder under his callus fingers. Peter lightly furrows his eyebrows when you turn, gesturing to your polaroid camera from your bedside table.

His face relaxes when he registers what you guys are doing, not realizing how serious you were being.

Your eyes flicker up and down his body when you turn to face him, noticing his erection bulging out of his briefs. Leaning down you use your hand to palm him through the fabric, feeling his cock pulsate in your hand.

“On your knees,” You whip your head up when Peter says that, his hands still roaming around your body.

You quirk your eyebrow up in response. Pressing your forehead and nose to his, you plant a kiss onto his lips. Your hands are now on either of his thighs, sinking lower onto the ground as the kiss deepens.

Before you can fully get down, you hear a light thwip and break the kiss.

You see Peter’s wrist is flicked out with his web shooters activated, latched on to your polaroid camera. There’s a glint of mischief in his eyes before he pulls it into his hands.

Resting on your knees, you’re before him with your fingers tracing the waistband of his boxers. You carefully watch for his reactions, but he’s refamiliarizing himself with your flimsy camera you got in your teenage years as a novelty.

You cross your arms on his legs and look up at him, the camera points at you and all you can focus on is his wide smile behind the camera. “Let’s see if I still know how this works,” Peter jokes.

You repose with both your hands on your knees, pushing your breasts out in between your arms. You didn’t realize they were hardly the focus of the photo (but still included, Peter was only human after all).

The photo snaps and you remember you have to get used to the flash again. Blinking a few times to get used to the discomfort, the photo prints out and Peter seems pleased with himself already.

“It hasn’t even developed yet,” You taunt, you resume palming him as you assume that was the extent of his practice shots.

Peter shrugs while shaking the photo as gently as possible. “Hey, who’s the photographer here? I know a good subject when I see it,” He nudges you.

When the photo barely develops, he shows you and you see yourself: half naked on your knees with your face fully in the photo. You were surprised he included that much of your face, and managed to catch you looking as confident as you could. But it was easy when Peter was behind the camera, he never fails to make you feel like his only muse.

You blush and look away from the photo as you continue to massage him. Peter’s breath hitches at the rate at which you go at, and you smirk to yourself.

No matter how much control Peter took in bed, he wasn’t afraid to show you how quickly he’d fold for you. It was one of the many things you appreciated about him. Another one was just how vocal he was, his whimpers before you even got to touch him were making your underwear dampen.

When his dick starts twitching, you pull his boxers down, his cock slaps up to his stomach while he watches your movements. Locking eyes with him, you wrap both your hands around his shaft before slowly jacking him off.

You’re mesmerized by the way his body is flexed under your touch, you almost don’t hear what he says.

“Your mouth,” He breathes out.

You sit up higher on your knees and kiss up his happy trail, lingering when you get closer to his cock. You hear his groan and look up, meeting his eyes.

You raise your eyebrows. “My mouth, what?”

Your lips quirk up again, teasing him. “Use your words.”

He rolls his eyes in response but you shake your head. “I can stop,” You remind him.

His brown eyes almost bulge out his head when you say that, wrapping his own hand over yours to stop your movements from pausing. He leans over to get closer to your face, the scent of you surrounding him. Peter’s face softens at your smugness.

“Baby,” He starts. You wait to listen to how he pleads for you to stay while he leads your hands.

“I need that pretty mouth of yours to suck my cock,” He gasps out and removes his hand when you loosen your wrist in response. Your eyes soften at the praise and Peter mentally celebrates when he leans back to his original position.

You reposition yourself as well, with your neck getting to work as you lick a stripe underneath the shaft of his cock. Peter sharply inhales at the feeling and brings his head back up.

You lock eyes with him when you feel the jolt in his body and open your mouth in an ‘O’ shape around the head of his cock.

Relaxing your throat, you lower your head on his length and feel the tip of his cock hitting your uvula before you begin bobbing your head.

Caught off guard, you could taste the saltiness of his precum on your tongue now. You gagged a bit and popped off him to lick it off in the most obscene way you could think of.

Peter mutters, “Just like that.” and you look up.

Forgetting he had a camera, the shutter went off to capture your tongue on the underside of his wet tip.

You collect more saliva in your mouth while you run your hand up and down his shaft. Feeling prepared enough, you go back down on him with the drool dripping on his cock on your hands.

Peter went crazy at the heat of your mouth and the sight of your lips around him. The only thought he had was to get the camera out again to keep this moment forever.

Getting slack jawed at this, he tangles his hands in your hair but doesn’t change your pace. He only starts pushing it out of your face as it gets in the way.

You look up at him and see Peter pointing the camera at you as you have half his cock in your mouth. The first shot is taken, and he tries to not move too much as the photo prints out immediately. He releases a few breathy moans at the pace you're going at while he places the new photo on the side.

Peter silently gestures to you to get him out your mouth so you release him with a pop, flipping your hair to the side as you continue to jack him off.

“That’s good,” He mutters, when he places the camera at his eye before snapping a new photo.

“I probably look insane,” You grumble, already feeling self conscious at how messy your hair looks, coupled alongside the drool and precum at your mouth.

Peter shakes his head and pulls you in closer by your waist and you yelp, finding yourself now pinned under him on the bed.

“Never,” He shakes his head, attaching his mouth to your tit as he pulls your underwear off. You immediately moan at his aggression on your sensitive nipples and he chuckles against your skin when he feels you flinch.

Peter’s calloused hands find your clit and start massaging it, and you throw your head back in pleasure when he finds his rhythm.

You feel a twinge of disappointment when he removes his mouth from your tits but you look up to see the camera watching you, and a shutter going off before you are even ready.

“Pete,” You warn. Your sternness doesn’t last when he slips in a finger in your embarrassingly wet cunt. You almost mewl at how full he makes you with just one finger.

“You looked so pretty moaning like that,” Peter explains while his finger curls into you. He knew what he was doing when he smiled again, leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

Your annoyance was no match for his desperation as you eventually gave in. One of his hands cupped your cheek while his lips were frantic on yours. He’s greedy for you, almost lapping up your tongue with his own before he pulls away.

“Just let go, forget the camera is even there,” He mumbles in your neck when you gasp at the absence of his lips.

He slips in another finger and thrusts faster, making you nod mindlessly as you surrender all control.You grip onto his bicep as he pumps in and out of you, begging him for more friction. You can hear how wet you were, and while you were embarrassed, Peter relished in it.

“Can you take a third for me baby?” He asks in a low voice as he sits up on the bed in between your legs. You nod vigorously but he quickly removes both fingers.

You open your mouth to complain but instead yelp out when Peter pulls both your legs closer to his chest as he kneels on the mattress. He set aside the camera briefly.

“Yeah?” He searches for an answer.

“Yes,” You grunt out, already desperate for much more than his fingers.

He massages your heat with his fingers again before he inserts three fingers in, jolting your body to sit up. You let out an obscene moan and couldn’t help but to massage your clit while he fucks you with his fingers.

One hand being in competition with Peter’s while the other massages your boobs, you’re almost too dazed to notice the shutter then went off while you were closer to an orgasm.

“Fucking incredible,” Peter breathes out before putting the camera with the new photo down, and leans down to kiss you. His pace never falters, making you whimper against his lips.

“I’m about to cum,” You announce shakily. Peter swallows your pleas with a kiss and just curls his fingers against your g-spot faster. You feel that familiar build up in the pit of your stomach and the pace of your clenching pick up.

“Cum all over my fingers baby,” He answers, and you immediately let go. You hold Peter closer as you cum, heaving underneath him like you’re in heat. Your body Peter continues to finger you but only because he loves the way you suction around him.

He still lets you come down from your high, kissing you through it and massaging your breasts with his free hand during. When your breathing slows down, he sits back up and removes his fingers from you.

“Need you inside of me,” You remind him as you reach over to palm his already hard cock against his stomach.

“Gonna let me cum inside of you?” He asks, holding his cock in his hand already glistening with your wetness. He readjusts to line himself up to your pussy awaiting your answer.

You cock your head with your arms supporting your body from the bed. “I’ll let you cum wherever you want,” You say.

Peter grunts at your answer before inserting himself into your entrance, and immediately throws his head back at the feeling, your warmth and wetness engulfing him.

“So fucking tight,” He comments, and you silently agree as you feel yourself stretching out on him. Your eyes fluttered shut as you clenched around him.

“Fuck,” you moan out as he finds a comfortable pace for the both of you.

Or that’s what you thought.

You hear a shutter from your camera and realize he took a picture (or two) of you in this position beneath him, moaning out for him flat on the bed with his cock inside of you.

You didn’t have time to care as when he got his shots he immediately started to rock into you, and you felt the strength of him against your thighs before he picked up the pace.

You watch him thrust into you and slowly lose himself above you.

“I love the way you feel around me,” He pants out, closing in on your body with his forearms framing your face. You nod as the bed squeaks and your hands roam his body, stopping at his shoulders and the nape of his neck.

Peter obliges to your physical demands and dips down to suck on your neck, causing you to whimper as your body continues to jolt from his thrusts. His soft brown hair tickles your skin as his teeth chew at the sensitive skin in your neck. You don’t know whether to giggle or moan, but you’re vocal regardless.

“Go faster,” You whine, becoming impatient with him.

“I’m not gonna last if I go faster,” He growls against your skin, sending vibrations down your spine. He thrusted slower, bringing his hand down to the back of your knee to bend it closer to your body. You felt him hitting your g-spot repeatedly that you knew you weren’t going to last any longer like that.

“I don’t care,” You cry out. Peter scoffs in your neck as if to say a begrudging ‘Fine.’ and kisses you on the cheek before kneeling back up. He’s already twitching inside you before he begins thrusting again. You almost forget what you got yourself into until you feel his balls slap against your cunt repeatedly.

A string of curses escape both your mouths, yours because he’s just so big and you can feel the tension build up in your stomach again. Peter’s cusses are because you just won’t stop clenching around him in response, he feels like he might burst the next time you tighten around him.

“Fuck, fuck fuck,” He mutters before spilling into you.

You go slack jawed at the feeling of him cumming inside of you. It feels hot between your thighs, in between the burning feeling of his hard thighs slapping against your softer ones, and feeling him twitch and coat your insides and the outside of your cunt with his load.

You cry out as he almost slips out of you, but realize he’s gonna take another picture. You’re not sure what to do, or what exactly he’s capturing but you decide to listen to his earlier advice and let it happen. Peter places the camera on his eye while his cock almost goes soft half away inside of you, and you can feel him rubbing his cum around your thighs and up your hips.

He mutters another curse, before snapping the picture. You close your eyes and your legs when you decide that that was the last photo and miss how Peter compiles all of them on your bedside table.

Eventually, you look up and see him pulling back up his underwear and beckoning you to see the photos. When you get up and see 6 photos lined up from tonight.

One of you on your knees, your breasts protruding and almost being the main focus of the photo if it wasn't for your face. You want to laugh at how excited your eyes looked but you know it was only because of who was behind the camera.

Two more during and after the blowjob, one of you in the middle taking Peter in your mouth and giving the camera (but really, Peter) siren eyes. The other was you slightly disheveled, but Peter swore you were the prettiest girl in the world with drool around your mouth.

A third of you being fingered, your head is thrown back in unfiltered pleasure from his fingers, your breasts sitting high on your chest as you’re on your back and your nipples were glistening in the photo due to the suckling that happened off camera. While scanning this photo, you realize that being caught in the moment wasn’t such a bad thing and Peter is silently celebrating he caught your O face in action.

The fourth was similar but you had more control over your pleasure as you’re on camera massaging your breasts and hand on your pussy. You feel like a vixen with the way you’re fondling yourself, Peter silently agrees as he knows you look like one.

Fifth and sixth photo show the before and after of Peter fucking you senseless. Fifth with your body being still underneath his, and the photo displaying that exhilarating feeling you both get when your bodies meet in the first thrust. And the sixth photo when you’re both comfortable enough to come down from your high together. The sticky, white cum is slayed over your sopping, wet pussy and Peter’s fingers and cock in the frame to remind you who fucks you like this.

“Do you like these? I can burn them away if you don’t,” Peter runs his hands through his hair nervously, not trying to make you uncomfortable if the bit had gone too far.

You only shake your head with a laugh bubbling in your throat at his consideration and hug his much taller frame from behind. It felt good to rest your head on his back, while his arms engulf yours from the front.

“I love them, I love you,” You speak low but loudly enough so he can hear, and feel, your words.

“Which ones do you want to keep?” He asks.

You know it’s out of courtesy, just one of those things you two got used to asking each other after taking pictures on this camera. You kept the silly anniversary photo while he kept the very nice one he took of you.

“It’s all for you,” You answer. Peter sputters quickly, turning back around to see your face when you say it, you only nod in full seriousness.

He leans down to kiss your cheek as a thank you and you only smile back.

“I think you’d get more use out of it than me,” You add with a tinge of humor. Peter only plays it off with another suggestion while hugging you from the front. His arms wrap around your shoulders while you rest your head in the crook of his neck.

“You know what though?” He asks, trailing his hands down to your naked hips, stopping to cup the round of your ass.

“What?” You mutter in his hold, already feeling your body heat up at the thought of round 2.

Peter smirks before snaking one of his hands to your pussy. Knowing that you’re about to start throbbing, at the thought of him. You gasp before he speaks and he chuckles while he proposes his new idea.

“I think it’s only fair if we make a movie now.”

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