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#tasm!peter parker smut
parkerpeter24 · 4 months
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quiet temptations
pairing ➳ tasm!peter parker x fem!reader
word count ➳ 2.3k
warnings ➳ SMUT. characters are 18+ and MINORS DNI. this contains depictions of fingering, oral (m recieving). fluff, peter being sweet but also horny-
summary ➳ you’re awfully quiet but peter can’t seem to take that.
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“is everything alright?” peter mumbled as he laid beside you. your back was to him, his arm wrapped around you, “you’re not talking.”
the bed you were laying on was warm, a thin blanket over the sheets because you got extra cold during the winters and a quilt that covered you and peter both. your fingers danced against the wall adjacent to the bed, feeling the cold plaster contrasting peter’s own fingertips that danced on your waist, under your sweatshirt.
“you gonna talk?” he placed a kiss on your hair that was loosely tucked behind your ear, making it fall over your eyes. chuckling when he heard you groan and push the lock of hair back in its original place, “so.. no?”
you sighed softly.
“that’s alright.” peter responded, feeling as if he was just talking to himself now, “we don’t need to talk if you don’t want to.”
the sound of your hum was accompanied by peter’s hand gliding under your sweatshirt and caressing your stomach. he was careful, as if you were made up of glass, watching out for any signs of refusal on your face but your features looked solemn, unchanging.
he sighed, not being able to hold in his concern, “alright, just nod if everything is okay…”
he waited for you and surely you did nod after a few seconds, making peter’s worries dissipate.
“what’s gotten you so quiet?” he tried to get you to talk, his fingers taking a detour from trailing upwards, making contact with the elastic hem of your sweatpants– which originally belonged to him, “‘cause one way or another, i’m gonna hear that pretty voice.”
you felt your face heat up but peter still didn’t notice any change in your expression. if he couldn’t see the blinking of your eyes and sense changing breathing pattern, he’d have assumed you were asleep.
“at least tell me you want this.” he mumbled into your neck, pressing his lips against your exposed skin.
“yeah.” you mumbled and peter wasted no time in sliding his hand under the fabric of your lower, arm holding your body against him. you let out a soft breath as his fingers travelled lower. his middle finger slid your panties to the side before making contact with the skin. he pressed soft kisses to your neck before his nimble finger delved into your folds.
a leg pressed between both of yours, parting your thighs as he nestled a warm hand against your sex.
you let out a soft sound, clutching onto the quilt. his finger sank deeper until he found the earliest bit of your arousal and pulled it out, wanting to spread the wetness everywhere.
his finger travelled up to your clit, circling around it and you bit your lip when he fucked it back into you, knuckle deep. he groaned softly, loving the way your muscles almost clenched his finger.
he repeated his actions a few more times until you couldn’t hold back the soft needy moans that he beyond waited to hear. you felt his teeth sink into the skin of your neck before he sucked that spot, soothing the sting from the bite.
you moaned when he curled his finger, trying to search for a spot that would make your sounds louder. his finger dipped into you inch by inch every time, showing he was in no hurry.
peter’s arm was strongly keeping you pressed against himself as you started to arch your back. he could tell you were getting needy but he wished to hear something from you– even though he was loving the musical moans you were letting out.
he pressed his ring finger into the mix, adding it when he pumped them into you the next time. his face pressed further into your hair when you tried to get away. he could tell you needed more– you were writhing, trying to grind your hips into his already hard cock– but he kept going at the slowest pace he could. one brush of his fingers against your most intimate spot and your lips parted in a loud gasp.
you tried to arch your back which only led to peter’s arm pressing harder against your abdomen. his lips were pressed together, letting out soft hums which accompanied each one of your moans as if encouraging you.
he pulled out both his fingers, fucking in again and then back out and in again until it became a faster rhythm. squelching sounds filled the mostly silent room as his leg parted yours even further.
peter rolled his fingers into you continuously, the heel of his palm nudging against your clit which had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, “pete-” you gasped, “m-more.”
the desperation in your voice made peter grind into your ass. his fingers fucked you faster, holding your legs apart, curling them into you just right until you were jutting your hips, chasing your high.
“good girl.” peter mumbled, “keep it up, baby.”
his fingers moved continuously in and out of you. he could tell you were close with the way you clenched his fingers, however before the coil in your abdomen burst, his fingers pulled out of you, a soft wet sound following it– completely opposite to the loud whine that left your mouth.
“oh my god- why’d you stop?!”
“now you wanna talk?” he mumbled into your hair.
you felt your cheeks heating up further than they were. you hid your face into the pillow, but peter wasn’t letting that happen. he tugged at your chin with his free hand, “oh, baby. trust me, i want you to cum.”
you whined, biting your lip softly at his dirty words. you wondered if peter came prepared for this because no other day would you have expected such filthy words escaping his lips. he’d never done so before in all the times you two were intimate.
he turned you around gently, slowly pressing his forehead against yours as he brought up his fingers to his own lips, sucking them clean. he moaned at the taste as his tongue swirled around the digits, sending a wave of shivers up your spine and arousal to your core.
the second his fingers were released from between his soft, warm lips, your own pair replaced them, tasting remnants of yourself on his lips. you moaned softly, pressing your chest up against his.
“want you.” you breathed out heavily.
peter only shook his head, “not until you tell me what’s with the silence.”
“huh-” your brows pulled together in confusion, “you’re really not gonna-”
“first you tell me what happened.” he pecked your lips once, twice, and a few more times.
you sighed, pursing your lips as you tried to formulate what to say to him– or rather how.
when peter saw you struggle, opening your mouth and then closing it, he brushed a thumb against your cheek, “it’s okay, you should take your time.”
you nodded, feeling the warmth of his hand transfer to your cheek as your eyes met. his chocolate brown eyes swam with what you could identify as pure adoration.
“until then…” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss you.
soft at first, it escalated when he brushed his tongue past your lips, quickly finding yours in a slow yet passionate dance. peter pressed you against the mattress, handling the covers to stay over your bodies.
he wasted no time in moving his lips to your neck, hands going to hold your thighs apart as his thumb now brushed against your clothed thigh, kneading gently as his teeth nipped at your collarbone.
you gasped softly, letting him do as he pleased with you. as you held the back of his head with one hand, the soft, brunette sea of hair engulfed your fingers.
peter moved his hands to the hem of your sweatshirt, wasting no time in sliding it up past your chest, careful enough that you weren’t exposed to the coldness of the room. he dived under the quilt, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, the other being knead in the palm of his fingers.
you gasped as peter’s tongue flicked the bundle of nerves, your stomach flush against his torso.
you could feel his lips curl into a smirk before he switched, rolling your sensitive left nipple between his slender fingers as he licked and pulled the right one in his mouth.
you were getting fidgety, squirming under peter as he felt your grip tighten on his locks, not enough to hurt. he moaned against your skin, placing a few kisses right under your breast, moving lower, now seeming in a hurry.
“pete-” you almost pleaded, finding your voice breathy.
his hands travelled under the pair of sweatpants, making quick work of sliding them down as he traced your thighs, down to your knees before you felt the material slide off you.
you lifted the quilt slightly, just wanting to get a glimpse of peter. the few rays of light that touched him weren’t fast enough to warn you as his lips pressed to the wet patch over your panties. you gasped and threw your head back.
you felt peter’s hot breath and the muffled sound of his moan from under the blanket. he pushed your thighs apart, diving deeper as his nose pressed against your clit, the fabric thick enough to make you grit your teeth, wanting his lips and tongue on you.
maybe peter heard the clenching of your teeth or the way that your hand found home in the tufts of his hair again but he was eagerly pushing down the material past your legs throwing it down to the floor.
you felt peter’s forearms lift your thighs as he shuffled closer to your core, licking up a bold stripe across your folds. your back arched but peter’s grip was keeping you against him.
for a moment you heard him groan as he retracted, “what’s wrong?” you breathed out, supporting yourself up on your elbows.
you almost laughed when his hand creeped out from under the quilt, holding his fogged up glasses out for you to take. with a chuckle, you held the frame between your fingers, quickly placing them to the bedside table.
as you laid your back against the bed, peter was quick to wrap his lips around your clit. you let out a moan as he licked and sucked on the bundle of nerves.
he held onto your thighs, keeping you firm against his lips as he explored the very intimate part of you. his tongue darted out, poking at your entrance, but not giving you enough time to notice that as he slid the muscle deeper against your walls.
you moaned, pressing a hand over your mouth to muffle the lewdest sound you’ve ever made. the bridge of his nose poked against your clit and peter only pressed deeper as his tongue delved in and out of you. it seemed as if he would see no tomorrow if he stopped making out with your dripping hole.
you arched your back, “pete- oh god-”
you felt him hum against you, sending your jaw drop open as you finally felt the pleasure crash all over your body. your toes curled and eyes rolled to the back of your head. you could swear this was the hardest you’d ever come before as goosebumps covered your arms.
you let out a sigh as peter helped you ride out your high, keeping up his ministrations. finally stopping, he placed a soft kiss over your clit, sending your body flinching at the action.
when peter climbed out from under the blanket, surely he looked like he needed to clean up. his chin dripping with your arousal and forehead all sweaty from being so long under the warm quilt.
“you need to wash your face.” you chuckled, brushing back a few locks of hair that were sticking to his forehead.
“and you need to tell me what’s wrong.” he mumbled and you sat up, adjusting your sweatshirt back down.
“it’s nothing-”
“and don’t you dare say it’s nothing.” he sat up as well, beside you, wiping mouth with the sleeve of his shirt– that thing was going in the washing machine the second this conversation was over.
“it’s… just… exams and stuff. you know how anxious i get.” you sighed.
“i know… but you don’t have to! there’s still a week left before-”
“okay, that may seem like a long time but trust me, it’s not.” you looked up at him, meeting the brown eyes that held concern, “i’m sorry, i… i was just overwhelmed. didn’t feel like talking.” you almost pouted, making peter pull you against his chest as he hugged you. you in turn wrapped your arms around his waist.
“trust me, i know how stressful exams can be. but it’s nothing you haven’t been through before.” he placed a soft kiss against your hair, making you hug him even tighter, “you got this, beautiful.”
“yeah, yeah, yeah. easy for you to say.”
he chuckled, “what’s that supposed to mean?”
“you’re like, i don’t know, the smartest guy of our whole generation.” you mumbled against his shoulder.
peter shrugged at that comment, “hey, even i watch youtube videos for help sometimes.”
“yeah, but you grasp every concept so quickly, like you don’t even have to try.” you looked up at him, blinking when you realised how that must have sounded, “...that was supposed to be a compliment.”
“you’re adorable.” peter chuckled, “how about we study together? i’ll make a time table; and don’t worry, it’s not going to be super chaotic, just a simple time table; and we can figure it out together. how’s that sound?”
you smiled at him, feeling your heart swell at the amount of his care, “sounds perfect.”
his smile mirrored yours, “thanks for telling me.”
you gave him a grin.
“now since i told you, can we fuc-”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
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vivwritesfics · 1 year
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"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
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"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.”
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peter with glasses is so fineeeee like I wanna ride the everliving shit out of him and suck him dry till he can’t function 😍- 🎀
did you just inspire me to write this???
yes, yes you did.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
So, So Mean
✮ tasm!peter parker x f!reader
✮ word count: 0.9k
✮ warnings: smut, MINORS DNI, kissing, cum eating, unprotected p in v (be safe or else), oral (m receiving), edging, overstimulation, fluff, sub!peter, reader is kinda mean SORRY, peter is vocal:).
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not my gif
The air surrounding you and Peter was uncomfortably thick, but you two didn’t care. As Peter is sprawled out on the bed, while you’re bouncing on his cock on top of him, the stuffiness of the room is the last thing on both of your minds. 
You weren’t sure how long you’d been riding him, but your legs started feeling like jello as you kept your rhythm. Looking down at your boyfriend underneath you, he’s entranced by you. He can’t help but place his hands on your hips, firmly squeezing and pulling the flesh there. His eyes give him away. Peter’s gaze stuck on your tits as they moved along with the tempo of your movements. 
Behind his eyes is nothing but love for you. He’s utterly obsessed with you, and you know it. 
“Does this feel good baby,” you lean down to meet his lips in a deep kiss before pulling away, remaining just inches away from his face, “do I make you feel good?” 
Peter takes a moment before responding, trying to catch his breath and knocking out of his trance before opening his mouth, “Y–Yes, baby.” 
Your movements pause at his response, his cock half in you as you sit back up on your knees, a smug look on your face. Planting your hands on his bare chest, you lift yourself off of his cock, eliciting a deliciously pathetic whine to escape from Peter’s lips. 
You don’t say anything as you sit on your knees in between his legs. You could tell he was so close as you pulled off of him. A vein on the underside of his shaft was extremely prominent, and his tip a deep red. You almost felt bad for him, almost. 
Situating yourself, you press a delicate kiss to the slit of his head, a shiver running through his spine as you did. “Oh, Peter,” you place kisses down to the base of his cock before sticking your tongue out to retrace your path back up to his tip, “ I know you can do better than that.” You bring a hand to his cock, holding it right below his tip as you run your thumb along his slit, “So, I’ll ask again. Do I make you feel good, baby?”
Peter takes another deep breath as you continue to tease his slit, a bead of precum leaking out, “Yes, baby. You make me feel so–so good.”
This brings a smile onto your face, “There we go! That wasn’t so hard, was it Petey?” You don’t let him respond as you take his entire cock into your mouth. His thighs tense at the sudden stimulation. You take your time with him. You never want to rush this, especially when he looks this good under you. 
His eyes are closed, one hand holding the side of your face, and the other gripping the sheets. He’s not going to last much longer, but still, you don’t let up. You continue to work your tongue along the underside of him, while your hand pumps the rest of his length. 
Peter’s moans start to grow louder as he reaches his high. His voice echoes off the walls, sending a wave of heat to your core. You hollow out your cheeks, and this sends him over the edge. Peter’s stomach tenses as ropes of his cum spill into your mouth, his eyes screwed shut. Polling all of it on your tongue, you spit it back onto his cock. The sensation made him open his eyes, his glasses lopsided on his nose. “Bug, what are you doin–,” he’s cut off by you placing your mouth around him again. 
He’s so sensitive, his body trying to squirm out of your touch. You know that if Peter really was too overstimulated, he could easily push you off, but he doesn’t. He ultimately relaxes under you as you keep sucking his cock. You don’t stop until you pull another orgasm out of him, this time you swallow his cum. 
Releasing him with a pop, you crawl over his exhausted frame. He's removed his glasses, placing them somewhere on the bed. One hand draped over his eyes, as he pants, trying to catch his breath. As soon as your face meets his, you peel his arm away from his face. Opening his eyes, he met yours. “God, sweetheart…You have no idea what you do to me,” he grins.
Lowering your face, you plant a sloppy kiss on his lips, making sure he can taste himself on your tongue. He groans into your mouth. You try to pull away, but he holds your face, keeping you within his grasp. 
Peter finally lets you go, only for him to pull you onto his chest, wrapping his arms around your bare back. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, inhaling his scent. “We should probably get up soon. We need to get to Harry’s housewarming, and we definitely need to shower,” you lift your head to find Peter half asleep. 
You try to pry yourself away from his tight grasp, but he doesn’t let you move an inch. “Can we just–stay here for a minute? I’m tired,” he mumbles. You roll your eyes playfully as you give in, melting back into his chest. 
You swore it was just a few minutes, but after waking yourself up, you realize that maybe you could miss Harry’s party.  And as you look over to the clock on your bedside table, you would buy him something as an apology for missing it entirely.
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readerthatreadsss · 1 year
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Requesting more dom!peter 😮‍💨🥵
𝗔/N: Your request is my command! (especially since I've been searching for more dom!Peter fics myself and have been failing so I might as well do it my damn self!) Also, yeah, it's been a damn long time lmao. I planned to finish up and release this like 4 months ago. Then a whole bunch of bad shit happened and I kinda gave up on writing for a little bit (outside of school cause I need that damn Bachelor's degree) BUT I've slowly started reading again and that bled into me opening up my drafts and finding this and spending some time with it. If you couldn't tell I had a shit ton of fun with this one...so feel free to check my newly updated Masterlist and request guidelines and send me more requests! The more I get, the more I'm gonna force myself to actually write them. (If you already sent one just know I’m working on it I promise)
𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝗡𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 | 𝗧𝗮𝘀𝗺!𝗣𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿
(heavily inspired by the song with the same title by Adele.) It came up in my shuffle and when I started listening to the lyrics it was just too perfect.
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he's so fucking pretty aghhhh (gif not mine)
𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Tasm!Peter Parker x Vigilante!Fem reader
𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5.6k+ (This is my big comeback so I might as well feed yall)
𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: You and Peter have been broken up for about 3 years, but when an impromptu visit to your apartment takes a turn...that may no longer be the case...
𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 (𝟭𝟴+ 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗗𝗡𝗜): SMUT!, lil bit of angst at the end (ex to lovers so ofc), minimal use of y/n, P*rn-with-plot, Reader and Peter are FERAL for each other because of their powers (enhanced senses and all that), p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap your willy before you fuck her silly), a lil possessive Peter, oral (r receiving), fingering, praise kink, Peter using his webs to restrain reader (pre-consented ofc), dom!Peter, sub!Reader (bratty at first tho), pet names (sweetheart, baby, pretty girl, angel), choking, rough sex, brief spanking, other positions, creampie, etc...
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The remaining sunlight of the evening bled through your wide studio apartment windows as you finished folding what was left of your newly washed laundry. The plan for the rest of the evening was simple;
Drink two bottles of wine (knowing that your enhanced metabolism would sober the effects), catch up on a few missing assignments to keep your NYU professors off your ass, then jump into your suit and go patrolling.
It was a familiar routine.
Or at least, it had been...since he left.
Your relationship with him ended during your first year of college. To say it hurt like hell would be an immense understatement.
What hurt the most was the fact that you both gave everything you had to make it work...but long distance can be a bitch.
On that warm Saturday night in May, your ex-boyfriend received a call informing him that he had been accepted into a very prestigious engineering program (with a full-ride scholarship attached) all the way in California.
You applied for the very same program, so you knew just how big of an opportunity it would be. And, in good faith, you pushed him to take the offer.
You both insisted, "we'll make it work," and "we'll video chat and text every day. It'll be fine!"
What a load of horseshit.
It took 6 months for you to both arrive at the conclusion that you couldn't juggle your individual academic loads, your nighttime hero personas, AND a long-distance relationship all at the same time. A three-hour time difference didn't help matters either.
It took a while, but you eventually moved on. You kept your grades up, went on a few dates here and there, and even managed to convince yourself that you were doing fine without him.
Until...
*knock knock knock*
Your head peeked out from the fridge to look where you heard the strong yet hesitant knocks on your front door.
Only a handful of people knew where you lived and you weren't expecting to see any of them today.
Assuming it would be a postal worker or someone along those lines, you swung open the door with a polite smile.
"Hi-"
You felt your voice die in your throat as you locked eyes with the deep brown ones you hadn't seen in three years.
"Peter," his name fell from your lips, barely audible.
"Hi, Y/N," he replied with that awkward grin you knew all too well.
His hair was shorter than the last time you saw him, but from the tight fit of his jacket, you could see that was about the only thing about him that shrunk.
You wanted to actually hit yourself in the head for actually imagining yourself doing many things to his large...meaty...biceps- NO, no, no, no get a grip! a voice of logic sounded in your mind.
You hadn't realized how long you stood there silently sizing him up until he spoke again. "Can I...uh...come in, maybe?"
"Umm...sure," you nervously answered, finally taking note of the small cardboard box he was holding.
As you stepped aside to allow him entrance into your apartment, his familiar scent invaded your sensitive senses.
"Oh God," you muttered under your breath, knowing that he heard you, yet unaware that your scent had basically the same effect on him as well.
"You alright?" he turned and asked you in concern trying to hide the tightening of his jeans with the box he brought.
You nodded way too fast, promptly putting some distance between yourself and him. He hadn't been there for longer than 5 seconds and he was already having an effect on you.
"How've you been?" he questioned you, scratching his neck and actively avoiding eye contact. Unbeknownst to you, he was currently repeating every physics law he could remember in his mind to try to quell his growing erection.
It wasn't working very well.
"I've been fine. You?" you quickly spoke, slightly out of breath.
"I-uh-I'm alright," he shook his head with a tight-lipped smile.
He soon found himself just looking at you. It wasn't a blank stare, no, it was the sort of intense look you unintentionally gave someone when trying to commit every single feature to memory as if you weren't certain when you'd get another chance to.
It was a habit of his you noticed a lot when you were dating. And just as it did back then, it sent chills running rampant down your spine. Not to mention your nipples growing obviously hard behind your large shirt with no bra to hide it.
Peter noticed it immediately and fought back a smile, which you glimpsed.
"Why are you here, Peter?" you decided to get down to business before your body betrays you any further.
The brunette let the question hang in the air for a few seconds before actually coming up with an answer. "I wanted to drop these off," he placed the small box on your kitchen counter.
Your eyes immediately narrowed. "You could have mailed it. Or you could've just dropped it at the door and then left. So why are you really here Peter?" you would have felt worse about your tone if you weren't so bothered.
Why the hell did he feel the need to suddenly show up and make you start feeling things you swore you wouldn't feel for him again?
Peter took a deep breath. "Aunt May called me last week. She's not doing too good. So, I came back to help take care of her."
You felt your stomach sink at his words. While you both dated, May grew to be like a second mother to you. You had no idea she was sick.
"Oh shit Peter-I'm so sorry," you crossed the room to engulf him in a hug, despite your initial reaction to his visit.
Peter immediately accepted your hug and found the anxiety in his body dissipating soon after. Your hugs tended to have that effect on him.
He couldn't stop himself from deeply inhaling and drawing in your hair's familiar scent when he wrapped his hands around your clothed waist.
A few seconds passed before you released each other, with you also savoring the feel of his body against you and the way how your skin lit up with goosebumps though there was a thin layer of clothing separating his hands from you.
"I was just cleaning up my old room at May's and I found some of your stuff so I figured I'd drop by and..."
You nodded in understanding and walked over to where he placed the box.
It was mostly filled with old t-shirts, tools, and gadgets from days when you would sleep over at Peter's or stop by to help each other with school projects.
"Thanks," you sent him a smile as you closed the box.
Your smile warmed Peter's heart. It was actually his second favorite thing about you, after your hugs of course. "Yeah, you're welcome," he smiled back, running his hand through his hair. It was a mess by now, but you still wanted to run your hands through it…or maybe even pull on it-
"Sorting through some of this stuff made me realize how much I...missed you," he said, his tone growing more assured.
Thankfully, you were still facing away from him, not giving him the chance to catch the pained expression that briefly crossed your face.
But you could feel him slowly approaching your frozen figure and found your body silently reacting in ways it shouldn't be, yet again. "Do you miss me?" he asked, his voice heavy.
You held back the urge to scream "Yes!" because admitting that out loud would be taking 3 steps backward.
Admitting that you missed him would be undoing all the work and tears you put into moving on from him and the hopes and dreams you had for a life with him.
Admitting that you missed him would mean giving in to the part of you that thought back to your most intimate moments with him when you touched yourself.
And admitting that you missed him would mean letting him back into the four-cornered box you had locked yourself in for the past 3 years.
But, with every step closer that he took, your resolve disappeared that much faster.
"You okay?" he called for your attention.
Your sharp intake of oxygen brought a tense silence over the room when you turned to face him and realized that he stood close enough for your lips to nearly brush his.
"Peter, I-" you tried to form words, but then you saw his lust-filled brown eyes lower to your lips.
And that was all it took for the last of your self-control to disappear.
"Damn it," you mumbled once you realized what was about to happen.
Before Peter could question your outburst, you found yourself latching onto his jacket lapels and pulling him down to meet your lips.
It took mere milliseconds for Peter to react. After all, he had been thinking about doing this since you swung open the door and looked up at him with those eyes of yours.
His large calloused hands took hold of the sides of your face as you clashed in a heap of teeth and tongue. It was desperate and feverish but it was perfect.
It was a language only you and Peter seemed to master, even now after three years apart.
Your lips moved swiftly against his, eager to taste more and more of him with each passing second. You felt him press his growing bulge flush against you, causing a pathetic whine to involuntarily tumble from your lips and a smirk to find its way onto his.
"I did miss you," you softly spoke, "but we can't do this Peter," the logical part of your brain made an appearance, though you kept peppering his lips with kisses.
As his lips moved to your neck, Peter's hands slid down to your ass where he effortlessly lifted your legs off the ground and up around his waist. The feeling of his hands against the bare skin of your thighs garnered yet another moan from you.
"You don't sound so sure angel," you felt him smirk against your heated skin.
You hadn’t heard that nickname in years yet it sent small chills down your spine for the second time that night.
A mumbled curse slipped your lips when he nipped a particular spot below your ear. That was definitely gonna leave a mark.
You soon gathered the strength to pull Peter's hungry lips away from your body, swinging your arms around his neck to hold yourself up.
"We can’t go back from this, you know that right?" you spoke, the both of you panting from the effects of the last minute.
"I don't wanna go back," Peter shook his head, "I wanna fuck you, right here, right now," his lips immediately found yours before his words could fully resonate.
This caught you by surprise which allowed Peter to slip his tongue between your lips.
As his taste continued to flood your senses, you felt yourself grow alarmingly wet.
Peter knew it too because he slowly pulled back and smirked down at you. "I could smell you from the moment I walked in here. Glad to see three years hasn't changed the way your body reacts to me, angel," he accompanied his words with a quick slap to your ass.
His slap and the familiar pet name left you a moaning mess. Just like he knew it would.
A lovely laugh left Peter's mouth before his lips met yours again.
He walked your entangled bodies over to the kitchen counter without breaking the sloppy kiss.
Peter used one hand to blindly clear the counter and place you on it, which sent your box of things flying toward the floor.
Not that either of you cared.
"Too much clothes," you were barely able to say in between kisses.
You followed up by shoving Peter's jacket off his shoulders which fell to your hardwood floors with a thud. He immediately got the message and got rid of his t-shirt as well.
A shameless whimper left your lips at the sight of his very toned muscles. You easily maneuvered Peter's body closer to you and began kissing and sucking his neck and every other available inch of skin just as you had pictured earlier, making sure to leave a few purple bruises in your wake.
“You’re killing me here baby,” Peter harshly swallowed, his eyes sliding closed as you continued to have your way with his chest.
"Wouldn't be a terrible way to die though, right?" you mumbled between lovebites and licks. You felt like an animal in heat but you just couldn't get enough of him, the occasional flex of his muscles with each slither of your tongue and his deep groans only egging you on more.
The taste of his skin alone could've made you cum easily.
But the same could be said for Peter as the feel of your tongue slithering all along his chest had him practically creaming his pants then and there.
Fucking enhanced senses, he cursed inwardly.
“Alright, ease up pretty girl,” he reluctantly grabbed your head, detaching your swollen lips from his body.
“Your turn,” he tugged at the hem of your top.
You quickly pulled off the oversized t-shirt you were wearing to reveal your bare top half to him.
He spared no time in cupping your breasts with his eager hands. "Fuck, I missed you so much," he mumbled.
"Me, or my boobs?" you jokingly raised a brow at him.
"Definitely both," he grinned, bringing his mouth down to your tits.
As his tongue made contact with the soft mounds, you loudly moaned and wrapped your fingers in his unruly tangle of hair.
He switched between nipping and sucking on your nipples, in the way he knew you liked, while his free hand pinched and squeezed the other.
"Just like that Peter fuck-" hearing his name fall from your lips drove Peter insane.
His tongue flicked your sensitive nipples harder, and his eager sucking pleased you to no end.
Peter eventually pried himself away from your supple breasts, remembering the other parts of you he wanted to worship, and brought his hands to rest on the sides of your head. Your lips connected once more in a delicate kiss.
Though you knew what lay ahead for the evening, you were both perfectly content with each other's lips at the moment, just enjoying the constant waves of pleasure from the intimate contact.
But it wasn't long before the kiss grew heated and you tried to take control. Peter, however, wasn't giving you a chance.
"I leave for three years and you think you're hot shit, huh," he smirked.
"Why don't you ask the guy I fucked on this counter last week," you retorted, knowingly riling him up.
"Don't say shit like that, it's not funny," he nearly growled as his grip on your ass grew more forceful.
You secured your grip on his hair before pressing a small kiss on the side of his lips. "Gimme a reason to shut up then," you challenged him.
“Trust me, I will,” Peter grabbed your hands from his hair and forced them to your sides. His movements were swift as he laid you flat on your counter and ripped your thong off your body.
There he is, you smiled to yourself. This is the Peter you wanted to fucking ruin you.
You felt his face ghost your drenched opening as he deeply inhaled your scent. "You smell fucking delicious baby," he praised you, his mouth actually watering at the thought of tasting you.
A genuine smile found its way onto your face but morphed into a gasp when Peter teasingly ran his tongue up your sensitive slit.
"You taste even better," he added, using his strong arms to bring your thighs closer to his head. He wanted to tease you but it was getting harder to resist the urge to dive right into your heat like a man starved.
"Holy shit," you all but screamed as he briefly nipped at your swollen clit before sucking on it to soothe the sting.
His grip on your thighs combined with the ministrations of his tongue was pure bliss.
You attempted to slip your hands in his hair once more, but found that they were suddenly held in place against your counter by two of his webs.
Your eyes briefly widened at the feel of the rough, sticky material against your wrists, not having felt it in a few years. Back then, you expressed to Peter your desire to engage in some bondage, but being the daughter of a super soldier, it was clear that no rope or wire would be able to hold you. Peter's webs became the next best choice.
"That's not fair," you pouted, though it melded into a moan as Peter continued to suck and lick between your glistening folds.
The sounds of Peter devouring you resounded through the small apartment.
"I'm close Pete," you whined, your chest heaving in arousal.
Peter decided to focus his tongue on your eager bundle of nerves while he slowly inserted two fingers into your pussy. He instantly curled the digits causing you to briefly squirm at the sudden pressure against your G-spot.
"More," you begged, and Peter delivered, adding another finger inside of you. He immediately sped up his motion inside of you, making sure his fingers gauged that spongy spot to drive you over the edge with each thrust inside of you.
“That feels so fucking good, Peter, oh my God," you loudly moaned at the feeling of his fingers inside of you, calling forth an orgasm with no warning.
You repeatedly bucked against Peter's face as you came, white-hot pleasure filling your veins. Peter locked onto your stare, still skillfully working his fingers in and out of you, loving the way you constantly clenched around his fingers.
"Jesus fucking Christ," your legs jerked when Peter dove in and drank every ounce of slick you had to give while still fucking you with his fingers.
With his face now damp of your juices, Peter looked up to meet your blissed-out eyes. "Gimme one more, angel," he placed a soft kiss on your thighs, "I know you can do it for me."
You would do anything to keep Peter's mouth between your legs.
So, you eagerly nodded in response before taking a deep breath in preparation for another onslaught.
You didn't have to wait long.
Peter’s tongue went to work on your glistening hole while his fingers fiddled with your overstimulated clit. And, within minutes, your thighs were trapping Peter's head as an even bigger orgasm rocked you again, the borderline pornographic sounds leaving your lips shooting straight to his hardened cock.
Peter seemed perfectly fine with staying between your legs all night, but you had other plans.
"Pete, I need you inside me," you begged, tears of pleasure leaking from your eyes.
He rose from beneath you and climbed up to free your hands from his webs. "I know, baby, I know," he softly replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips and using his hands to soothe your reddened wrists. Your own taste on his tongue flooded your senses which made you even more desperate.
Peter obliged, slipping out of his sweatpants and sliding his girth between your folds. He used one hand to hold himself up above you on the counter, and the other to slowly guide his dick into you.
You both shared a long moan as he buried himself to the hilt inside your pussy, your wetness making it way too easy.
He held still for a few seconds, waiting for you to adjust and give the all clear for him to move.
Eagerness guided your words. “Fuck me, please.”
Peter set a brutal pace, knowing you were more than capable of handling it. Satisfied cries left your chest as you dragged your nails along Peter’s back, hard enough to leave trails.
“You can take it, pretty girl, I know you can,” he groaned as he continued to pound into you, trying desperately not to blow his load with the way you were constantly clenching around him and marking his back.
You tried to reply, but all that you could form were sloppy moans and broken syllables.
“Oh look at you, drunk on my cock already?” he teased with a particularly hard slam that prodded your cervix, “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”
Pleasure-filled cries mingled with words continued to fall from your lips as Peter gently moved a few fallen strands of hair behind your ear with a hand. "-feels so fucking perfect," you muttered, your lips curved into a drunken smile.
Peter reached down and pinched one of your nipples, gaining a loud whimper from you. “I love hearing you make those pretty sounds for me baby,” his strokes grew harder and deeper.
“All for you, Pete, all for you,” you panted as he fucked into you, the delicious smell and sound of sex lingering in the air.
Peter used a hand to wrap around your throat before using the other to reach down and fiddle with your aching clit.
The combination of Peter’s dick hitting that perfect spot, his fingers massaging your clit, and the lack of air from his hand around your neck was making you dizzy and overstimulated.
You fucking loved it.
“God, I missed you,” you spoke breathlessly.
He moved closer to kiss you briefly and tenderly. “I missed you too, baby.”
No amount of time could take away his knowledge on how to please you, how to get you like this with ease, not when you were all he thought about for years on end.
Peter pressed a quick kiss to your forehead then continued to fuck you on your kitchen counter.
"I'm gonna cum again baby, right fucking there," you moaned out.
Peter's grip on your neck grew tighter. "Not yet, don't you cum until I tell you to sweetheart," he commanded you, removing his fingers from your clit.
A frustrated groan rumbled in your chest as you forced yourself to sustain your orgasm.
"Don't pout," he smirked.
And before you could realize it, Peter had pulled out of you and effortlessly flipped you onto your stomach.
A hand soon gripped your hair, yanking you up against his chest and eliciting a pitiful whine from you.
"Tell me what you want,” Peter commanded, using his free hand to strike your ass. Hard.
You whimpered again at the sting of his slap. “I need you inside me. Please,” you pleaded.
He seized your hair harsher and leaned forward for his lips to graze against your ears. “Beg.”
A small whine left your lips at his words. You were so desperate you didn’t even care how embarrassing this would be in retrospect. “I need to cum, Peter. Please baby you're the only one who can make me cum.”
Peter pressed a kiss to your neck, nearly causing you to lose your footing. And he soon complied by ramming himself back into you.
“Oh my Fuck-“ you cried before biting your lip, suddenly aware that you had neighbors.
But Peter pulled his cock from your heat, with just the tip remaining, before roughly slamming into you, his hips slamming against your ass with the motion. “Come on, lemme hear you angel.”
He repeated the action, knocking the air out of your chest, “Peter!” your hands gripped the sides of your counter with such force you were sure you felt it crack under your grasp.
Peter caught wind of this and freed your hair before using his hands to pull your hands behind your back. "You're so perfect baby," he mumbled in your ear, continuing to brutally fuck you from behind, "So fucking beautiful with my cock inside you."
"I can't hold it anymore," you cried, "I need to cum, Peter, please."
With that whiny tone and those overstimulated tears to top it off, Peter couldn't deny you any longer. "Let it all out for me sweetheart. Cum for me," he littered your shoulders with kisses.
Your eyes slammed shut as your walls contracted around his cock, pleasure shooting through you and rocking you on a seemingly cellular level. Your mouth opened in a silent moan, unable to form a sound from the satisfied tremors attacking your nerves. The intensity of your finish is one only brought on when Peter fucked you and it was damn near cosmic.
"Shit," you groaned in relief, your long-awaited climax passing.
Peter slowed his movements inside of you and released your hands. "You did so good for me angel," he pushed your hair aside and kissed your neck, trying to stave off his own orgasm for a little while longer.
Aftershocks rocked your body while Peter continued sporadically moving inside of you, yet you couldn't get enough. Your body was more than ready to keep taking whatever he dished out.
Peter didn't need to read your mind to see that, but he needed to make sure. His lips kept up their onslaught on your neck as he softly spoke, "You wanna keep going?"
"Hell yes," you panted with a grin that he couldn't fully see, "You still haven't cum yet, and my bed is still fully made."
Happy with your response, Peter gave your ass a sharp smack. "That's my girl."
He pulled out of you and turned your body to face him, smiling at the sight of your fucked out face. "Three orgasms and a handful of tears later and you're still the most beautiful girl in the world," he held you by the sides of your face.
His words left you reeling, causing a slight blush to dust your cheeks and butterflies to swirl within your stomach.
Before you could form a response, Peter leaned down to kiss you. He soon hoisted up your legs around his waist, preparing to escort you to your bed as per your own demands.
As he looked around for the bed's location, you took advantage of his momentary distraction and latched your lips onto his neck, reapplying the bruises you left there that were slowly fading already.
Peter was the happiest man on earth as he walked over to your bed, his cock prodding your soaked entrance, and your lips ravaging his neck.
He carefully sat on the edge of your bed, with you now on his lap and your legs still around him. You expected him to ease his length back into you but he slowly brought your head down to meet his intense stare.
You carefully wrapped your hands around his shoulders to keep yourself up, the silence in the room growing deafening.
You could tell from his eyes that he desperately wanted to say something, and you wondered if it was the same thing you had been considering as well.
But you were both aware of what saying those words would mean for your broken relationship and simply settled for smiles instead.
Peter brought a hand up to lay your forehead against his, allowing your breathing to momentarily sync.
"You ready for me?" he questioned you with a hand at the nape of your neck to hold your head against his.
You immediately nodded in response causing his own head to shake in time with yours. A small laugh was shared between you both as your nose continued to brush his own.
"You're adorable," you said before you could stop yourself.
That stupid full-toothed grin that you hadn't seen in a while soon spread across his beautiful face at your words, gaining another laugh from you.
"Last round?” you eventually pleaded with a smile.
"Anything for you," Peter replied, meaning it in every way. Adoration littered his stare as he slowly lowered you onto his length.
A satisfied mewl slipped your lips at the familiar feel of him.
The slow drag of his cock in and out of you, while he rocked your hips back and forth to grind on him, had your bottom lip sucked between your teeth with eyes closed and head thrown back in pleasure.
But Peter wanted to see it all. He wrapped a hand around your neck and forced you to meet his dilated eyes. “Keep your eyes on me, baby.”
His soft yet stern tone caused you to swallow back a moan as you continued to move on his girth.
He then slapped your ass with his free hand, silently urging you to move faster.
You leaned down and quickly kissed his lips before happily obliging, now beginning to bounce in his lap, chasing your next climax.
“There you go angel, just like that,” Peter’s stare never wavered.
Peter furiously fucked up into you, your moans and the constant smack of skin on skin filling the apartment.
His other hand which never left your throat now squeezed it harder. “Fuck!” You were barely able to moan out as your breasts bounced with your every move.
“Shit, you’re gripping me like a vice,” Peter groaned, his crude pace never faltering though his orgasm was closer than ever.
Your bed creaked under the onslaught of your bodies, but neither of you payed it any attention only having one goal in mind.
“One more time,” Peter planted his feet on the ground to get a better angle, "Need you to cum on my cock one more time."
But from the broken pacing of his hips to the strong furrow of his brow, you could tell he was close too. “Together?” You breathlessly suggested, grasping the nape of his neck with your hands.
Peter nodded in agreement before engulfing your chest and back with his arms, pulling you closer to his body.
Your breaths mingled, eyes focused on nothing except each other as his grip on your upper body allowed him to help you ride him even faster.
"Yes, Pete, oh my God-" pleas, curses, and moans tumbled from your lips as your skin buzzed at your incoming release.
"There you go, cum for me," Peter's voice grew strangled as his hips stuttered below you.
"Fuck," you wailed, your finish hitting you like a freight train and your pussy leaking into Peter's length.
The intense clench of your walls around him was all it took for Peter to explode with a groan, his pace faltering with that final pump.
"Holy shit baby," he panted, his cum painting your walls in spurts.
His firm hold on your body brought you collapsing on your bed together, satisfied and smiling.
And, for what felt like hours, you lay there in his arms. But of course, your thoughts began to run rampant.
Peter could damn near hear your thoughts spiraling.
"I don't regret this," he suddenly broke the silence you had elapsed into, "Do you?"
"Peter I-...I don't know," you freed yourself from his hold and sat up to look at him.
His brows furrowed at your response, hurt briefly flashing across his features.
"I loved you," you spoke, "I loved you more than anything."
"I know. I loved you too," Peter nodded with a small smile.
"And I will never blame you for leaving. Ever," you slipped a hand in his own and squeezed briefly.
"But?"
Your eyes stung with tears threatening to fall. "What happened to us, it damn near destroyed me, Peter. And it took so so long to put myself back together."
Peter swallowed harshly at your words.
"And then here you come, waltzing in here, fucking my brains out and making me feel things," you lowered your head, looking away from him.
You heard Peter move closer to you before feeling him lift your chin to face him again. His expression wasn't as disappointed as you'd expected, just confused. "Spit it out. I know you're holding something back."
"Why'd you come back here and-and do all this? Reminding me of what we had when you know you're gonna be gone again in the next few weeks?" you felt your voice shrink to a broken whisper.
Peter used his thumb to wipe away a lone tear that fell from your eye, his previously puzzled look now morphing into a smirk. There was obviously something he wasn't telling you.
You sniffled and lightly hit Peter's shoulder. "Well, now it's your turn bug face, spit out whatever you're hiding!"
You received no answer other than Peter leaning forward and pressing a deep kiss against your lips. You eagerly accepted and returned the spontaneous action but were left even more confused when he pulled away.
"That wasn't an answer," you arched a brow at Peter.
"I'm not going anywhere," he smiled.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that I'm moving back to New York, or already moved, technically," he began to explain.
Your mouth opened and closed in shock as your brain fumbled for a response and came up inconclusive.
"I'm gonna finish out the school year online and stay here to take care of Aunt May. I mean it, baby, I'm not going anywhere," he grinned, watching tears of joy fall from your eyes.
"This better not be some sick fucking joke Peter, I swear to God," you pointed a finger at him accusingly.
"Can you shut up and just come here?"
You couldn't help but laugh as you obliged and grabbed Peter's neck before pulling him in for another kiss, your face still wet from tears and a smile almost permanently etched onto your face.
You pulled away but sank into his open arms. You relished how securely he held you. "I'm so happy," you said aloud, truly meaning it for the first time in a long time, though it was only meant to be an inner thought.
Peter kissed your forehead and looked down to meet your eyes, "I'll never stop making you happy, Y/N."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
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thyme-in-a-bubble · 6 months
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you can’t put it in
kinktober, day thirty-one
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a/n: happy hornyween halloween! to say goodbye to kinktober, I thought it was fitting to end in the same boat as we started in. enjoy sluts ♡ I love you all so so much ♡
warnings: stepbro!peter parker x reader, smut, stepcest, secret relationship, semipublic sex, bathroom sex, halloween party, pussyjob, dirty talk, corruption kink
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023
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You properly shouldn’t have had those last few drinks. Maybe if you hadn’t, then you wouldn’t have ended up in this position, on the bathroom counter at some Halloween party, with your stepbrother slotted between your wide-spread legs, length freed from his costume and teasing your weeping mess with the tip of it. 
“You can’t put it in,” your form needily shivered as he tapped his weight against your puff, “promise me that you won’t put it in.”  
Maybe if your costume hadn’t been so revealing and his hadn’t hugged his frame so perfectly, then you would have been able to stay away from one another, but something inside of you knew that even if you both wore potato sacks and didn’t indulge in a drop of anything, then you would have still ended up in this exact same predicament. 
“Come on, princess,” Peter tugged down the neckline of your skimpy costume and played with your tits, “you didn’t have a problem with me fucking your throat sore.”
“That’s different and you know it,” you pouted, legs rubbing up against his sides as he continued to tease. Realising his grip on your boob with a playful tap, his hand then drifted down to aid his movements, pinching your petals around him as he fucked your folds, the tip rhythmically nudging against your buzzing clit. 
“Just think about how good it will feel letting me stretch this little pussy all the way out.”
“Peter-”
Eyes glued to your cunt, he ignored your plea and smirked, “maybe you just need to learn a lesson about what happens when you run around being such a fucking tease all the time…”
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© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 
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reysdriver · 7 months
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Bondage | P.P.
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Day 2 of Kinktober: Bondage — peter x fem!reader smut
warnings: 18+, Minors DNI - smut, inappropriate use of Spider-Man webs, fingering, oral (female receiving), mentions of hair pulling
words: 0.6k
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“Is that too tight?” Peter asked you from across the room, from where he had just webbed your hands to the top of your bed frame. 
“No.” You responded honestly. “It’s perfect.”
He started making his way over to the bed, then paused once he sat next to you. “So you’re sure?”
You sighed. “Of course.”
“And you remember what to do if you want me to stop?”
“Yes, Peter.” You sounded exasperated, because you were. Peter’s always been too nice for his own good, it was why he became Spider-Man. But now, his big heart was getting in the way of your sexual experimentation and it was tiring. 
“Okay, I’m sorry, I just worry a lot. I love you.” 
“I know you do, that’s why I want to do this with you.”
You both smiled at each other, and he dove in to kiss you. He did it slowly and sweetly, which you knew was because he didn’t want to be too rough with you. That would change with enough convincing, but you just kissed him back the same for now. 
As you two kept making out, Peter’s hands moved farther and farther down your sundress. Even though you had been planning this for a few nights, you were just in normal clothes because despite Peter being a genius at most things, you didn’t quite trust him to figure out lingerie with your hands tied up. 
As his fingers reached the hem of your dress, he hooked his fingers around the sides of your underwear. Then, he pulled his lips off of yours and looked up at you. 
“Still ready?” He asked. 
You nodded. “I mean, I don’t know how I’ll fare without being able to pull on your hair, but…”
“Well, you could replace the hair pulling with something else. Maybe you could be as loud as you want now that I don’t live with Aunt May anymore.”
You smirked as he pulled your panties off of you. “I think I will try that.”
He slowly slid his middle finger over your slit. “You’re already wet.” He commented.
“For you? Always.”
He smiled, then leaned down again to press a little kiss to your clit. It started out short and sweet, then he kept going, heated and sloppy. You let out a moan, which encouraged him to keep going. His mouth movements kept getting more intense, and your breaths got heavier. 
With enough reaction from you, Peter made the moment ever spicier by fitting a slender finger inside of you. 
You made another sound, the lewdness of which rivalled only by the sound Peter’s finger made when pumping his finger inside of you. He added another, and it just felt even better. 
“You’re still doing okay, babe?” He asked to confirm. 
“So good, Pete.” You replied breathily. “I’m almost there.” 
He smiled, then brought his mouth back to your heat to guide you to your climax. He kept going in the way he knew was your favourite, and even though you couldn’t tug on his brown hair like you usually did, you motivated him by moaning as loudly as you could without your neighbours hearing. 
And there it was, you felt yourself release around his fingers. You let out a string of whimpers as Peter kept softly kissing your core. 
“Did you like that?” He asked quietly, moving his face out from between your legs. 
“Yeah. Did you?”
“I still like when you pull on my hair when we do that.”
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psithurista · 4 months
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approach shift - epilogue
pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 2.3k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: PIV (protected), sneaky little non-descriptive pegging reference, disGUSting fluff
Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.
a/n: I'll keep it quick: I'm so sorry this took so long, but I just wasn't quite ready to finish it off haha. It's been two years almost to the day since I started writing this (and they've been fucking crazy years) so it feels very strange saying goodbye to these adorable losers. I once again can't even start to express how happy it's made me seeing your reactions to this fic, and I'm endlessly grateful to everyone who took the time to leave a comment or reach out to say hi. I hope you like this last sweet little snippet! x
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SIX MONTHS LATER
“We need to get up,” you say, making no move to do so.
He turns his face from where it’s smushed into the pillow to speak, his eyes still closed. “You first.”
You groan. 
You have no idea what time it is, and your phone is out of reach, but the light through the curtains is blinding like near-noon and Bear’s supposed to be here at 10 to pick you up, so you’re almost definitely cutting it fine.
“Peter.” Your legs are tangled with his, his thigh between yours. He huffs morning breath sleepily into your face in response, reaching a hand out to pat your cheek. 
“Shh.” He shifts, pressing his thigh harder between your legs, skin sticky on skin. You know he’s doing it on purpose; he knows exactly where he’s pressing you. You make a quiet, satisfied noise, then pull away regretfully. 
“Bear’s gonna be here soon and you need to be dressed. She’ll freak if she has to see your ass again.” 
“Mmm. Yeah. I’m up.”
You sit up, and the slow weight of his arm slides off your waist. The bedroom door is open to the living room where you can see the debris left over from your at-home date the night before: the bowl still on the couch with a handful of unpopped kernels still rattling in the bottom, the fairy lights web-stuck across the ceiling still glowing gently and the blown-out candles stuck in pastel wax puddles to the coffee table you’d rescued from the curb a few weeks after moving in together. It’d been unbearably funny watching Peter’s elaborate performance of pretending to struggle under the weight of it on the way back home.
He drags himself out of bed, and you hear the coffee machine gurgling while you start pulling out clothes.
It’s hot and stuffy; the air’s stopped working again sometime in the night, so you screech the window open and prop the broom handle under the frame to keep it there. It’s a precarious solution—more than once, the window’s fallen shut while you’ve been at work, forcing Peter to awkwardly perform a frantic outfit change behind the dumpster in the alley so he doesn’t run the risk of running into one of your neighbours in the elevator. But the rent’s affordable for a pair of research scientists with a dash of supplementary freelance photography cash on the side, and the occasional bags of free food from a grateful shop owner after a thwarted hold-up.
“Should we call about the air?” you wonder out loud through the open door.

 “Don’t worry about it, it’ll be quicker if I just get up on the roof and fix it again myself,” Peter says, his voice stretching out into a yawn halfway through. He appears in the bathroom doorway, still naked, two mugs in his hands. 
You gasp in appreciation as he passes one to you. “God, I love you,” you murmur, taking a sip.
He grins dazedly at you in the mirror, his cheeks flushed. “Is that all it takes, huh? A crappy cup of coffee?”
You turn and slide the mug onto the counter so you can wrap your arms around his waist. “No. You’re cute, too. That helps.”
He kisses you, his thumb and index finger framing your chin. “M’not cute,” he says against your lips, leaning his too-warm body along yours. “M’intimidating as hell. Ask anybody.”
You’d only gotten as far as underwear before he’d interrupted you dressing, and it already feels like there’s far too much in the way between you. “You’re gonna make me late,” you say, reaching down to dig your fingers into the taut swell of his ass. “Gotta get ready.”
“Okay, so keep getting ready,” he says, mouthing at your neck. “You’re the one groping me.”
He’s right; now you’ve started, you can’t seem to stop. You press your hands to the small of his back, drawing him closer. You can feel his cock beginning to harden where his body is pressed against yours, and his tongue comes out to touch at your pulse. He makes a tiny noise in his throat as you slip one hand down between your bodies to wrap loosely around his rapidly-growing erection.
You stroke him once, gently, and he huffs. “I don’t see how this is helping,” he says. 
You hum your response, your resolve melting away as he strokes the back of his knuckles down your spine, making you shiver. “Maybe…” you say.
He ducks his head to kiss first one breast, then the other, your nipples standing hard and sensitive. “Maybe?” he prompts. His fingers brush your hip, coming around to rest just below your navel.
“Maybe, if we’re quick…” you say, biting your lip, pushing your hips upward to try to encourage his hand lower.

“Babe, I can be so quick,” he says, half-groan, half-laughter. He thumbs your labia, spreading you open just a little, so he can touch your clit. “Too quick, even, if you want. Some would say it’s a talent.”
You grin at him, letting go of his cock. “Bed. Now.”
He swings you up into his arms so fast your head spins, practically flinging you onto the bed. 
You sprawl out in front of him, your arms thrown back as he peels your underwear off. “Holy shit,” he says, running his hands down your sides, staring at the expanse of your body. His jaw is slack with longing, and the sight of his adoration never fails to make fresh heat flood your face, even after seeing him staring at you like this so many times.
He kneels down over you, sucking two fingers into his mouth as he does. You hitch your knees up to give him a better angle, and he gently presses a firm thigh between your legs. “How do you wanna…?”
“Condom,” you tell him, running your fingers through his hair, making his eyes roll closed with pleasure. “No mess.”
He holds your lower lip gently between his teeth, and slowly pushes his two slick fingers inside you. You shift your hips up, and he withdraws them both again, using the slip of your arousal to work against your clit. He kneels up a little, so he can palm your breast with his other hand as he bends down to lick the inside of your thighs.
“Oh,” you breathe. His fingers stop circling to push back inside you, just as his tongue works a hot, messy kiss over your clit. You grab handfuls of his hair to try to keep up with the pace he’s setting, but the feeling of your fingers against his scalp only makes him work faster, a weak groan vibrating down through his tongue.
He bends his head lower, so he can lick around where your wetness has started to gather on his knuckles as he keeps pumping leisurely, in and out. It’s so wet you can both hear it, and he works faster, angling his fingers higher, until you’re writhing.
“Peter…come on, please,” you beg, yanking hard at his hair. 
It works to break his concentration, and he scrambles up, leaning down sideways so he can dig around in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. It’s filled with an assorted mix of toys and, stashed further back, Peter’s wrist canisters. The logic had been that anybody who broke into your apartment would be too freaked out by the toys to keep looking in the drawer, but it also meant Peter had to dig through a dizzying array of plugs and lube every time he went out.
You turn your head to the side and see the wistful way he glances at your strap-on, and you click your tongue. “We’re in a hurry, remember? Later.”
“Mmm. I’ll hold you to that,” he says, kissing you again as he rolls the condom smoothly over his cock.
He leans back, propping a pillow under your hips to give himself more leverage. As he sinks inside you, you hold your breath, letting it out slowly.
He groans above you, easing just a millimeter out and then back in, like he can’t help himself. It feels devastatingly good; he’s thick and beautifully hard right against where you need him, and thanks to his mouth, you’re wet enough that you’re ready for him to start moving immediately.  
You hook your ankles together behind his back to pull him in deeper, and he sinks home, fully seated balls-deep inside. You clench your muscles, just to feel as much of him as you can, and he grinds his hips against yours. 
You can feel the tension in his limbs as he draws back and starts to move. You’ll never, ever get sick of how he feels inside you, you think, your mouth open. He’s fucking you so good; his strokes long and firm and perfect.
He cups your ass with his hand to lift your hips even further, shifting the angle once again, and your breath stutters sharply in your throat as the head of his cock catches your g-spot.
“That’s it, right?” he murmurs, his voice wrecked. “Right there? That’s it, babe, c’mon, show me, I wanna see…”
You can’t even respond, your fingers gripping his biceps like his body is your only lifeline. It’s so good, and you’re getting so close, you just need…
“Fuck,” you gasp, high-pitched and panicked as you come, hard and blinding. 
He doesn’t slow down. If anything, he fucks you harder, chasing down his own release as you clench and melt around him. It only takes a few more moments before his cock jerks inside you and he curses, collapsing the hot weight of his body on yours.
You pant together, sweaty and spent. His cheek is crushed to yours, and he turns his face just enough to kiss any part of you he can reach—the top of your shoulder, your forehead, the tip of your ear.
When you manage to drag your eyes open, you find his huge doe-brown eyes already looking at you. “Good?” he whispers, kissing your shoulder again.
You smile at him, feeling drunk and dizzy. “So good,” you tell him.
You’re still wrapped up in each other like idiots when he jolts hard as though startled. You’re confused for about half a second, before the buzzer from downstairs goes off. 
“Oh, shit,” you hiss, scrambling out of bed.
“You get ready,” Peter says, somehow already dragging on a pair of sweatpants. The speed and dexterity with which he’s able to dress never ceases to amaze you. “I’ll stall.”
You’re stepping out of the fastest shower of your life when you hear the squeaky door to your apartment opening.
“Hey, Bear,” Peter’s voice says.
“Hey, Parker. Your shirt’s inside-out,” she says. 
You lean the naked top half of your body around the bathroom door to wave at her. “Hey, sorry, I just got out of the shower. I need like, three minutes to get dressed.”
She clicks her tongue, but doesn’t look overly annoyed as she flops onto the couch. “It’s hot as shit in here,” she says cheerfully, swinging her feet up onto your coffee table. 
You can hear her and Peter chatting as you hurriedly get ready; he asks her about Krista, she asks him about his aunt. Unsurprisingly, Bear and May had hit it off in a huge way at your birthday after May had excitedly demanded to know everything about the play Bear was auditioning for.
You give yourself a quick once-over to make sure you look presentable before you duck out into the living room. Peter and Bear have moved onto once again arguing about music; Peter’s on Blur’s side, Bear’s on Oasis’. 
You give them both a sideways look. “I’m not getting involved in this,” you say, checking to make sure your keys are in your bag. “But I’m just saying, in a real fight, Liam Gallagher would kick Damon Albarn’s ass any day of the week.” Peter grins at you from behind the counter, where he’s attempting to clean the disaster left in the kitchen from dinner last night.
“Oh, my God,” Bear says, looking you up and down. “Why do you look so worked up? Were you guys just fucking? Like right now?”

 Peter can’t turn away fast enough to conceal his snort, and you make a face at her. “It’s called caffeine. Come on, we’ll be late.”
Peter waves at her. “Say hi to Krista.”
“You should come with us, next time you get a night off work,” Bear says, helping herself to a stick of gum from the packet on the bench.
“Bye,” you say, leaning in to wrap your arms around Peter’s waist. “Be careful,” you add quietly, leaning up to kiss him.
He grins. “Always am.” He kisses you back, slow and gentle, before letting you go.
Bear shakes her head. “You guys are so gross. Later, Parker.”
Peter trails you to the door so he can close it behind you. Bear’s a few feet ahead of you, and you don’t mean to linger, but you can’t help but look back one last time as you go.
Peter’s leaning in the door, a dish rag over his shoulder. His hair’s chaotic from where you’d run your fingers through it, and his cheeks are still a little pink with warmth. 
As you watch, his eyes crease at the corners. “Love you,” he mouths, too quiet for Bear to hear. He still has the cutlery in his hands he’d been drying before you walked out; two knives, two forks. 
You can feel your face splitting into a smile you’re sure must be even goofier than his. You hold his gaze, and as Bear drags you away, you’re missing him already.
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parkerpeter24 · 9 months
Note
We need the date with pool instructor!Peter Parker
since you asked in bold-
pairing ➳ swim instructor!peter parker x reader
warnings ➳ slightly nsfw towards the end. making out and regular date stuff.
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“what have you got there?” you pointed behind his back but it was clearly evident that he was hiding a bouquet of flowers.
he finally brought it in between the two of you, standing at your doorstep, “i didn’t know which ones you like, so i got some of the most popular ones.” he chuckled nervously, handing you the mosaic of flowers.
you admired the roses, lilies, orchids and tulips, smiling wide as you took the bouquet from his hands, “i love them.”
you and peter had hung around the pool earlier in the morning but he told you that he wanted to take you out on a proper first date. so he suggested dinner and the boy was not even a second late.
as soon as the clock struck 7, he was there at your door, knocking and handing you these flowers.
the two of you made your way to the place he’d chosen for dinner, telling you about how it was his favorite place and the reason behind it.
“this was my uncle’s favorite place too.” you could tell by the way he smiled, so reminiscent, that it was a distant memory of his.
“it sounds great already.” you smiled, linking your arm with his as you walked, the place being just two blocks away from your place and all, “do you have a favorite?”
“oh, the chocolate truffle there is to die for!” you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his remark.
“so do you suggest we have that for dinner?”
“um, duh.”
dinner couldn’t have gone better. in fact, at one point you concluded it was the best dinner of your life. you got to know peter so much better. he was so much more than just the hot swimmer you knew from community pool who had once held onto your waist to teach you kicking. he was so much different from than any man you’ve ever met. so much better.
he told you about his school life and even though he didn’t highlight much, you could tell he was very good at everything he did. you got to know about his passion for science and that he was an assistant teacher of chemistry at esu just a year ago.
“how did i even score a date with you.” you wondered out loud, making him laugh.
he shrugged, “i’m honestly wondering the same thing.” you caught a hue of pink over his cheeks as he leaned forward, “it feels like i’ve been the only one talking all this time.”
“i don’t mind.” you flashed him a smile.
“no! you should tell me more about you.” he insisted.
and so you did. you told him about your likes and dislikes, about your favorite music and foods, about your only best friend who was there for you through thick and thin, about the good birthdays and the bad ones, about small things that you recalled from the past. and peter listened throughout, making you laugh with his reactions every once in a while.
“you were right. those were some good truffles.” you sighed.
the two of you found yourselves walking back to your place as the night wind drifted past you, making your hair flow with it. peter’s hand was in yours now as you leaned more towards him.
“told you.” he smirked, “i can never go wrong with a good dessert. that’s my superpower.” he chuckled.
“you seem to have a lot of them.” you smirked right back at him, watching as his face suddenly morphed into confusion.
“n-no. just the one, actually... that’s all i got.” you thought you were getting better at reading the brunette but his nervous laugh confused you a little.
“i meant to say that you’re really good in swimming, and you’re kind of smart at an inhumane level from what i heard, so...” you trailed off, letting out a chuckle to ease the situation a little more.
“oh.” he let out a breath of air, “right.”
in less than a minute, the two of you were climbing the strairs of your apartment building. your apartment was just on the second floor, thus, you opted for them.
after leaving you to your door, peter stood with his arms behind his back, right where he had been about two hours ago. the night seemed to have ended way too soon but you didn’t know if it was okay to invite him in.
“can you-”
“could i-”
both of you decided to speak at the same time, making the other one stop suddenly.
“you go.” peter chuckled softly.
“would you... would you like to stay? for a while, you know.” you gave him a small shrug, “we could watch a movie or...”
there was a slight pause as his eyes trailed over your lips as they moved. he responded with a nod of his head.
and in the blink of an eye you were pushing open your door, just to drag him along you inside the place by the collar of his flannel. his lips were on yours and hands placed on either side of your waist– this time for a better purpose. you just hoped your place wasn’t as big of a mess but your thoughts blurred as his frame pushed you against the wooden door, it making a sound as it locked in place.
peter’s hands were doing all the good things, setting your skin on fire as they trailed down to your hips, pulling your legs to wrap around his slim waist. your arms snaked around his shoulders as you tilted your head, only deepening the kiss that you started.
his teeth bit onto your lower lip and his tongue followed to soothe the blissful ache. you parted your lips further, tangling your tongue with his. a battle of tongues, only for peter to back off and let you take control. you both knew he was way too stronger than you.
your hand ran down the length of his arm, feeling the taut muscles of his biceps before. a slight squeeze from your hand as you wrapped it around his wrist and peter knew what to do.
he pulled you along with him, gracefully carrying you with him as he tried to find his way to your bedroom.
you pointed at the room in one of the corner and peter followed suit as your lips attached to the skin of his jaw. you trailed small kisses along his jawline, until they weren’t small anymore. you bit onto his skin, soothing the bite with your tongue just like peter had done earlier.
peter was quick to wrap his right arm around you, supporting you up as his left hand got busy with opening your bedroom door, walking inside before he kicked the door shut.
it was more than safe to say that the truffle wasn’t the best thing you were having tonight.
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writingdumpster · 1 year
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patience
pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x reader
warnings: SMUT 18+, p in v, voyeurism (male), orgasm denial, bondage (webs), daddy! kink, fingering, praise, dacryphilia
summary: pure porn. went off with the dialogue i think. Peter ties you up and leaves you to watch while he takes care of himself.
word count: 2.1k
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“Please, Peter.” 
Peter had you webbed to the bed like a starfish. Your ankles were bound to the posts at the foot of the bed and your wrists to the headboard. You had a few pillows behind you so you were able to watch as Peter continued to move his fingers against your clit.
“Are you about to come?” Peter asked. You moaned incoherently. Peter slapped your thigh. “I said, are you about to come?” 
“Yes! Please, Peter! Please, please, please, please,” you repeated desperately. He had already stolen your orgasm from you twice. You would have said anything to keep his hands on you. Peter didn’t care. He pulled his hands away. You wailed in agony, back arching away from the mattress as you tried to chase after Peter’s touch. “No, no! Please, no,” you whined.
“Patience, baby.” Peter stepped back and looked down at you from the foot of the bed. You cried out in disapproval and stared up at him longingly. 
“Peter,” you whimpered. Your body convulsed, in shock from the denial. 
“Get comfortable, kitten. I think I’m going to take care of myself for a little bit,” Peter said. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Your pussy was clenching wildly around nothing. 
“Peter, please, I need to come!” You cried. 
“You’re going to wait, sweetheart.” Peter’s voice was steady and warm. Peter took his boxers off. He grabbed the chair at your vanity and pulled it to the foot of your bed. He sat down on the chair with his legs spread open lazily. His eyes were raking up and down your body. 
“Peter,” you whimpered. “What are you doing?” You asked. Peter took his cock in his hand. You watched as he spread the precum leaking out around the red tip of his cock. 
“I’m taking care of myself,” Peter said. 
“Peter, I need you!” You shouted, tears falling from your eyes. Your body was still convulsing, feeling the aftershocks of all the edging. Peter began slowly stroking up and down his long, thick cock. 
“Need me? You’ve had me, baby. For almost an hour.” His voice was sweet. He was trying to seem innocent despite the cruelty he was showing you. 
“But I need to come, Peter,” You whined. Your eyes were puffy from your tears. You had a pout decorating your lips as you continued to cry. Your body was burning with need. You were pulling at the webs around your wrists, wanting to touch yourself if Peter wouldn’t. 
“Even if I touch you I’m not going to let you come yet, sweetheart,” he said. He pulled his hand off his cock and spit on it. He made a few more strokes, but stopped. 
“Peter, it hurts!” You cried. 
“Where’s the lube?” Peter asked, standing and going through his bedside drawer. You let out a childish whine when Peter ignored your complaints. Peter went over to your drawer, searching it for the lube as well. 
“Please touch me,” you whimpered desperately. Peter walked over to the dresser and looked around. “I need you so bad, Pete.”
“I can’t find it,” Peter said, continuing to ignore your pleas. 
“Peter,” you sniffled helplessly. “Please.” Peter looked over at you and smirked. He walked back towards you. You tried to straighten yourself up, hoping that he was going to touch you again. He leaned over the foot of the bed and reached towards your cunt. He ran his fingers through your opening, collecting your wetness on his hand. You moaned wildly. 
“Thank you,” you gushed. Peter let out a dry laugh. He leaned away and started to sit back down on the chair. “Peter, what are you doing?” You asked in a panic. Peter rubbed your cum from his hand onto his cock. 
“Couldn’t find the lube,” he said. He started stroking himself again. You whined in protest. 
“Please,” you cried. “Please, I need more.”  Your eyes were locked on Peter. He was a beautiful sight. His hair was fluffy in a way that made him cute. You would’ve been tempted to call it adorable but as your eyes kept moving down to see his naked body ‘adorable’ didn’t seem like the right word anymore. He looked like he was cut from marble, his toned abs tensing as he stroked himself. His cock was hard in his hand and it made your mouth water. 
“You need more? You’ve had so much, and I’ve just been waiting, baby. Does that seem fair?” Peter asked as he continued to stroke himself. You shook your head. 
“No,” you whimpered. “But you could fuck me,” you said. Peter chuckled. 
“We’ll get to that, baby,” he said.
“Please,” you begged again. “I need you so bad.” 
“I can see that pretty little pussy throbbing from here, kitten,” Peter called to you. You let out a little whimper. You knew he was right. You could feel your pulse between your legs. 
“She needs you, Peter,” you said. 
“Of course she does, she’s mine,” he said. Peter started stroking himself faster. He moaned quietly and threw his head back in pleasure. 
“You don’t want to leave your pussy waiting anymore then do you, Petey?” You asked sweetly. Peter tilted his head in thought as he continued to stroke himself. 
“Tell me what she wants,” he demanded. 
“She wants you to make her come,” you told him. 
“And how does she want me to do that?” He asked. 
“With your cock, Peter. She wants you to fuck her,” you said. Peter smirked as he saw your cunt throbbing faster. You were writhing against the bed. He moved his hand to the tip of his cock, squeezing at the head as he stroked.
“How does she want me to fuck her?” He asked. 
“Deep, Peter. She wants you to fill her all the way up, over and over again,” you told him. You continued pulling at the webs restraining you. Peter groaned as his hand slid around his thick cock. “She wants your cum,” you said. You felt like a whore, telling Peter about your pussy so graphically, but somehow you loved it. 
“She does, huh?” Peter asked with a smirk. You nodded. 
“Uh-huh,” you hummed at him. “She needs it so bad. She needs you to mark her up. Claim her as yours.” Peter stood at once and kicked the chair away. 
“You’re filthy,” Peter spat. He climbed onto the bed and settled between your legs. He planted a hand beside your head to steady himself. He took his cock in his other hand and lined it up with your slit. 
“Please,” you whimpered quietly, burning with anticipation. Peter slid into you in one stroke. You were wetter than you’d ever been before and your cunt made the most lewd squelching sound you had ever heard. 
“Fuuck, baby,” Peter groaned as he felt your warmth envelop him. You moaned loudly, ecstatic that you were being given attention again. 
“Thank you, Peter,” you gushed. 
“This is where you belong, kitten. Wrapped around my cock,” Peter cooed down at you. 
“Yeah, Pete. I was made to be yours,” you moaned. Peter started deep and slow at first, the same way he always did. That’s not what you wanted though. You started to thrust your hips up against Peter to try and get a faster rhythm. Peter grabbed your hip with one hand and pushed you down against the mattress, pinning you down firmly. He kept himself buried in you, but stilled his hips. 
“What are you doing, sweetheart?” He asked. His voice was soft and sweet, but you felt embarrassed to answer. 
“Trying to go faster,” you admitted shyly. 
“Why didn’t you ask me, baby?” He nudged his nose against yours so you had to meet his eye. 
“I thought you would say ‘no,’ daddy,” you told him. Peter chuckled darkly. He knew what you were doing. He loved when you called him daddy, and you knew it. You used it as your weapon against him when he was teasing you. 
“Well, why don’t you ask me?” He pushed. You smiled hopefully. 
“Will you please fuck me faster, daddy?” You begged.
“Not yet, kitten. Not yet.” He kept his hand on your hips but started to slowly move his hips again, rolling them as he moved. The tip of his cock rubbed against the special spot inside you that only Peter had ever been able to find. 
“Ooooooh, Peterrr!” You screamed. You thrust your hips upwards, but Peter was plenty strong enough to keep you in place. 
“Right there? Is that the spot?” Peter taunted. 
“Yes, Peter! Please! Harder! Faster! Anything!” You pleaded helplessly. Tears were streaming down your face as you cried out for him. Peter seemed to sense that you were nearing the end of your rope. He moved his hand from your hip to your cheek, pushing the sweaty hairs away from your face and cupping your cheek in his hand. 
“Shh. Shh,” Peter hushed you. “You’re okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he cooed. Your chest was heaving. 
“Please,” you whimpered quietly. 
“I heard you, baby,” Peter cooed. “I’ll give you whatever you want now. I’ve had my fun.” You hummed happily. 
“Kiss?” You requested sweetly. Peter smirked.
“You’re precious, y’know that?” He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You mewled as he kissed you, basking in the soft affection he was giving you. You sighed in satisfaction as he leaned away. 
“What do you want next, baby?” He asked.
“To come,” you whimpered. Peter smiled. He ran his finger down your cheek. 
“Do you care how, sweetheart?” You shook your head.
“Uh-uh. Just want you to make me come,” you pleaded. Peter nodded. He started moving his hips again, finding the spot that made you fall apart with ease. Peter sped up his movements, pushing you further towards your orgasm. You were clenching uncontrollably around Peter’s cock. He let out a broken gasp when you tightened down on him during a particularly deep thrust. 
“Fuck, y/n,” Peter groaned. You whined at the sound of your name on his lips. He reached down between your bodies to push his thumb over your clit. He started rubbing it back and forth furiously while hammering into you. He was losing his composure, on the brink of his own orgasm when you screamed out in pleasure. 
“Oh my god, Peter!” You wailed. As soon as Peter knew you were coming he let himself go as well. 
“Unngh, shit, kitten,” Peter groaned as he emptied himself into you. His cum filled you up. You felt the warmth filling your womb and you moaned blissfully. He grunted as he caught his breath. 
“Thank you, Peter,” you whispered. Peter laughed softly. 
“You’re so sweet.” He leaned down and kissed you. He gently pulled out of you, pulling a tiny whimper from you at the emptiness. He carefully climbed off the bed, going to remove the webs from your wrists and ankles. He disposed of them quickly and then scooped you up, cradling you in his arms on your bed. You rubbed your cheek against his chest like a kitten seeking attention–the habit that had earned you your nickname. 
“You alright, love?” Peter whispered against your hair. He kissed the crown of your head. Peter’s hand was gently rubbing up and down your thigh, your legs thrown across his lap. 
“I’m okay,” you said.
“Not too much, kitten?” He asked. 
“No, Pete. It was good,” you said.
“You did really good for me, baby. You’re always such a good girl,” he told you. You smiled. 
“I like being good for you, Peter,” you gushed. “Always want to be your good girl.”
“You are, sweetheart. Always good,” Peter said. You cuddled into his chest, your arms snaking around his neck. You yawned and closed your eyes. Peter had tired you out. He laid down, pulling you against his body. 
“I love you, Peter,” you whispered as you drifted off to sleep. Peter smiled to himself. He kissed your forehead. 
“I love you too, baby,” he whispered. Peter stayed awake, reveling in the feeling of you against his body. He adored you in every way. He would take any moment he had with you to focus solely on you. Even when you weren’t with him his mind was on you. You were unavoidable for him. Whether in his mind or in his arms, he always wanted you there. When he did finally drift off to sleep you were in his dreams too.
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ugh I love the way you write frat Peter <3333 am thinking of how he would react when his frat brothers flirt with his girl jus to rile him up - ❄️❄️
A Little Reminder
--genre: fluff, slight smut, MINORS DNI.
--pairing: frat!tasm!peter parker x f!reader
--word count: 1.4k
--warnings: language, kisses, slight smut, mention of hickeys, fluff!!!
love this request! i have something similar (more angsty) if you want more, "Let Me Be There, Let Me Be Yours".
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You were drained, to say the least. Your last lecture wiped you out, followed by a tutoring session to bring up your plummeting English Literature grade. Peter’s the one to blame for that one. Sure, you scheduled an early morning class knowing that it would be hard to get there, but Peter keeping you hostage in bed also didn’t help. 
As you walk back to your apartment, you’re mentally cursing him knowing that you’ll realistically not do anything about it. With your headphones blocking out the world around you, your only goal was to get home and to Peter. Your bed calls out for you. 
Switching songs, an arm is suddenly wrapped around your shoulders, making you jump out of your skin. Pulling off one side of your headphones, you look towards the person whose arm is around you, finding one of Peter’s frat brothers grinning widely at you. You barely have time to deal with whatever is going on, but still decide to play along not to seem rude, “Bryce, what the fuck is going on?”
“Oh nothing,” he replied nonchalantly, his arm still on your shoulders, “ just walking you home, that’s all.” His tone still holds one of a joke, but now that you’re approaching your apartment he still doesn’t give up.
You can’t help but laugh and scoff, you wonder how long he’ll keep this up. Ducking out of his hold, you stand in front of him, “I didn’t ask you to do that, but thank you so much for your generosity, Bryce. Your heart must be so so big!” You bring a hand up to his shoulder and pat it a few times, “I’ll make sure to tell Pete about this. Just to let him know how caring you are.”
“You do that, (Y/N)! I cannot wait to hear back from him,” his smile is wide still, but sarcasm drips off of his tongue. 
You start to walk up the stairs to your building, waving Bryce goodbye as you giggle to yourself. He’s going to get an earful the next time he sees Peter. 
****
“Hi, Pete! I’m home,” you call out as you close and lock the door behind you. It doesn’t take long before you hear heavy footsteps approach you from the bedroom, Peter’s disheveled state greeting you. He’s shirtless, his boxers the only thing on his body, but you’re not complaining. Peter’s even wearing his glasses, which is a rarity recently. You’ve noticed he only wears them around you. 
As he approaches you, he takes your school bag and your headphones, placing them on the couch before he envelopes you in a bone-crushing hug. You breathe in his scent, the natural musk combined with his body wash makes you melt. Your ear is placed directly on his heart, the rhythmic beat acting as a lullaby. You look up at him again, craving to see him in his glasses again to see that he’s already looking at you. You stand on your toes to reach his lips, catching him off guard in a kiss that he quickly gets accustomed to. His lips are slightly chapped. 
Pulling away he sighs, giving your lips one more quick peck, “How was class, bug?” Brushing a piece of hair that fell into your eyes away, he holds the side of your face. 
“It was long and boring,” you close your eyes, the mere thought of it reeling in another wave of exhaustion, “but guess who I ran into on the way home?” You pull away from his hold to walk over to the kitchen, Peter following loosely behind you. There are a few beats of silence as he goes through the list of who it could be, but he soon gives up with a sigh. “Bryce fucking Quinn,” you reveal.
He leans against the cabinet as you reach into the fridge for a bottle of water, his eyes widening, “I haven’t seen him in a while. How is he?” 
“He’s good,” you open the cap and take a sip, before dropping the bomb on him, “he’s very nice.”
This sparks Peter’s interest, his head cocking to the side as his brows furrowed in confusion, “Oh really?” Your impression of him shocks him. He knows Bryce Quinn to be a jokester, he’s never taken anything seriously, and if he did, it was always because it was part of a running bit that he carried. 
You smirk as you take another sip, trying not to reveal how amused you are, “Yeah, he even walked me home! He even threw his arm over me to make sure I got here safe.” You leave Peter to go into the bathroom, the sudden urge to pee coming over you.
Peter’s once relaxed demeanor was now one of rigid shock, he once again followed you. “What do you mean ‘threw his arm over you’?” You’re sitting on the toilet when Peter opens the door and stands directly in front of you, looking for answers. 
“You need me to answer that right now?”
“Well,” he doesn’t see anything wrong with asking right now, “when else am I gonna ask you?” He’s dead serious too. 
Reaching for the toilet paper, you gather a few pieces, “Maybe when I’m not actively on the toilet?” 
He finally comes to his senses as he turns around, facing the wall, and leaving you to do your business. “It’s not like I haven’t seen every part of you before,” he adds, before turning back around when he hears the toilet flush and the sink run as you wash your hands. 
Washing your hands, you look into the mirror only to see Peter behind you, giving you a scare. “If you’re really worried about this babe, you know you shouldn’t,” you dry your hands off on the towel next to the sink. Turning around to face your worried and slightly angry boyfriend, you reach up to hold his face, his head slightly flinching away from your cold hands, you giggle, “Shit, sorry!” 
Pulling down his face, you kiss his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands find their home on your waist. The kiss slowly gets needier, causing Peter’s hands to lower down to under your thighs, hoisting you onto the counter, his arms caging you in as he places both of his hands on either side of your head. Your fingers are weaving themselves in his hair, slightly tugging on it, causing a soft moan to escape his lips. You pull away, his lips chasing yours as you back away. “Peter,” you whine. 
He’s not listening, his only objective was connecting your lips again. He’s panting as he responds, his voice breathy, “Yeah, baby?” You can’t help but smirk at his current state. It seems like he forgot all about your previous conversation. 
As you tilt your head back and forth to look into his eyes, he follows. His lips are desperate for your touch, and it shows. You grab his chin, forcing him to look into your eyes, “Don’t be too hard on Bryce when you see him next.” 
Peter groans as he tilts his head back away from your touch, a breathy chuckle leaving him, “Why are we still talking about Bryce when I’m so close to taking you back to bed?” 
You blush at his response, “I’m just saying…I don’t need to be the damsel in distress when it comes to you, Petey.” Peter brings his hands down to scoop under your thighs once again, pulling you up to his chest, making you wrap both your arms and legs around him to not fall, a big smile on your face.
“Oh, bug,” he starts to walk to your bedroom, “you’re never the damsel in distress. But sometimes they need a little reminder that you aren’t theirs to play with, are you?” You shake your head in response, the heat in your cheeks starting to pool lower on your body. “And sometimes they forget that,” he places you gently on the bed. 
Peter can’t help but admire you as you lay in front of him. Pulling off his glasses and tossing them to the side, he kneels on the bed to kiss you again, leaving a few marks on your neck to serve as a physical reminder to those around you. Bryce is so fucked. 
--author's note: I LOVE FRAT!PETER AND I'M SO HAPPY YOU LOVE HIM TOO ❄️ ANON!!!!!! this got a little spicy at the end and i'm so sorry i have no idea what happened LMAOO. don't forget to like, comment, and reblog. my 300 follower celebration is happening now, so don't forget to send things in!! rules are pinned to my blog!!! ok, ily bye <333
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prettybabybaby · 2 years
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bunny | peter parker !
¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !
word count: 10.9k
synopsis: Peter Parker has been your best friend for years. After you develop a relationship with somebody else, you see a side of him you've never seen before.
content warnings: RAPE/NONCON, blood, dark!peter parker, plus size!reader, negative self talk, insecurities, slow burn, implied stalking, oral (f! receiving), slapping, degradation, spit, unproteced sex, creampie, lmk if i missed any
¡ marvel masterlist !
You were sixteen when you met Peter Parker. 
He had shyly approached you, a blush high on his cheeks as he handed you a stack of papers. Confused, you simply stared at them, eyebrows cinched and lips slightly down-turned. 
You were well aware of who Peter Parker was. He was a member of the Midtown Academic Decathlon team that you were also part of; though you never directly interacted it’s him due to your nerves. He seemed kind, he was lanky and a little geeky, making him the butt of a lot of jokes. Much like you were. For opposite reasons, of course.
You were often teased and ridiculed for your size. You were heavier and much curvier than other girls your age. You had a puffy face and a matching plump body, most people couldn’t look past that. So, to say the least, you weren’t very popular.
Peter Parker knew all about you. He had been watching you since your freshman year. He was mesmerized when first laid eyes on you. He swears he had never seen a more beautiful sight than you, taking little, shy steps like you were afraid to make your presence known. Your hair was done in the way he would grow to like best, and you wore a pretty blue plaid skirt and a white sweater. The skirt was a tad too long and he could sense your discomfort as you tugged it down even further. He remembers staring at you as you looked around with unfamiliarity and slight fear in your eyes. The innocence in your eyes was also hard to miss. You held textbooks to your chest, in an attempt to conceal your tummy. He watched as you stood alone, your cute nose making slight movements as you stood. Your nose wiggled like a little bunny. He felt the desire to protect you, keep you next to him and out of harm’s way. He regrets not approaching you that day. It would have saved you from a lonely year. 
“I was told to give these to you,” he said silently, “I heard you missed a few days.”
“Oh,” you breathed, taking them from him, your chubby hands looking silly against his thin, veiny ones. Peter thought they looked perfect together. “Thank you, Peter,” you said, quickly pulling your hands away and hiding them behind your back when you saw his gaze on them. 
His eyes lingered on where your hand was against his before he looked up at you and gave you a bright smile, “no problem.”
Peter walked you to your class after that, taking the empty seat beside you and discussing the subject matter with you. And to your surprise, he followed you to your next class, and the next, and the next. By the end of the day, you were quite fond of the boy. He was a lot kinder than you’d imagined, he even promised to see you the following morning for breakfast with Ned and MJ. Of course, you tried to decline but he wouldn’t let you leave without the promise of arriving on time. 
This was years ago and your friendship had only gotten stronger. 
Being friends with Peter was refreshing and comforting. He wasn’t like the other guys you’d met in university. He didn’t have any ulterior motives nor did he fetishize you. He did not attempt to coerce you or manipulate you into getting what he wants because you owed it to him. No, Peter would never do that. 
Peter was actually the one to look after you, he made you aware of what those who sought you were really after. They want to take advantage of you, bunny, he’d said several times. They want to ruin you. He would never elaborate on what he meant when he said that and you didn’t like to pry. He just had a good judge of character is all.
Of course, Ned and MJ were your friends too and they were very nice to you as well, but you always felt that they were only acquainted with you for Peter’s sake. You never hung out with them without Peter present but you tried not to let it bother you.
Your goal for the year was to acquire your own circle of friends, and maybe even get a boyfriend after being single your entire life. Peter had a few girlfriends here and there, though nothing was ever serious. You couldn’t help but feel slightly envious of him, he had grown to be quite attractive, making it easy for him to make connections.
He had lost the baby fat on his cheeks, his jaw was now angular and his strong bone structure was one of his most prominent features on top of his big, brown eyes and muscular body. He was muscular in a lean way, a way that isn’t entirely noticeable under the sweaters he always wore. 
Today Peter sat across from you, latte in hand as he basked in the morning sun. His tight black shirt highlighted his muscular arms and chest, you caught yourself staring as you sometimes did when he ditched the ill-fitting clothing. His chocolate brown curls framed his face beautifully, looking golden where they met the sun. His lips, colored like pink peonies, rested with the slightest pout.
You sipped your London fog, squinting as you looked up in search of the singing bird in the tree above your head. You caught sight of it. The creature’s delicate red feathers looked like fire in the golden sky as it flew away. Your stare fell on Peter again, “our 8 AM lecture was canceled today.” 
Peter hummed, not moving from his previous state, “I know.”
You huffed, “why’re we here, then?” you set your cup down, “it’s way too early. We, no I, should be in bed.”
Peter’s lips quirked up into a smile, “I wanted to hang out.”
“At six-thirty A.M.? We could’ve hung out at a more reasonable hour, like, I don’t know, eleven,” you began ranting and you saw one of Peter’s eyes open slightly. “Or maybe twelve, we could’ve gotten breakfast or… or brunch!”
“You never eat breakfast,” he said, swinging his head forward, eyes now fully open and on you.
“I do…” you claimed, your nose scrunching, lips pouting.
Peter clicked his tongue, “not enough.”
“Well, whatever,” you opted to change the subject before he could continue further. 
“We still could’ve met up later. Like I said, brunch.”
“I don’t know,” he began, sitting up all the way now, “I kinda like being out this early. It’s nice and quiet.” 
“I guess so,” you murmured, leaning back to rest on your elbows.
Peter watched you, gaze moving from your Mary Jane-clad feet to your pretty hair. You wore a dress today. It was Peter’s favorite dress, not that you knew that. It was a lilac purple color and it had short, puffy sleeves. He liked the way the dress clung to your curves and complimented your skin tone. It was the shortest of all your dresses, so he especially liked the way it rode up your thighs when you sat down, making your pudgy thighs all the more visible to him. He stared at them now, noticing the way the plush fat pooled around you like a sea of soft flesh as you relaxed. He wanted to grab them, bury his face in them and drown in you. 
His eyes ran up your body further, over the curve of your tummy and swell of your breasts. The necklace Peter had gifted you last Christmas sat prettily around your neck, resting on your bare chest above the heart-shaped neckline of your dress, rising and falling as you breathed. He stared at it, not noticing when you opened your eyes to look at him.
“Okay?” he heard you ask.
“Mhm,” he replied, tearing his eyes away and giving you a soft smile. 
+
The morning had passed rather quickly and you perked up after your second tea of the day. Your last class of the day was your creative writing class. As you strode in, you took your usual seat in the front of the room, setting your things down beside you.
Your focus was on the board in front of you when you felt a gush of air on your left. You looked over, catching sight of a tall figure sitting down beside you. 
“Hey,” the man exhaled, setting down his things next to yours. 
You opened your mouth to respond but you ended up holding your hand up to signal a hello. 
The man smiled, “I’m Harry,” he held a hand out for you to shake.
You looked at it, quietly introducing yourself as you took his pale hand. Your touch was featherlight as it took you by surprise when he gripped it tightly with a slight laugh. 
Harry was effortlessly charming. He was cute and cool and he had a sharp sense of humor, you learned. But on top of that, he had a contagious smile and a gaze that made you feel like you were the most important person in the room. You often caught yourself gazing at him from the corner of your eye trying to be inconspicuous with your staring. He had shiny blonde hair that you thought resembled Peter’s. Only lighter and shorter and straighter and not really like Peter’s at all. 
You weren’t sure why your mind had suddenly wandered to Peter. Maybe a part of you wondered what he would think of Harry. Or maybe you were subconsciously comparing them. You weren’t sure.
“Hey, um,” you turned towards Harry who had begun speaking. The class had ended and you were gathering your things. “We should meet up,” he grinned, “maybe at the library?”
You weren’t used to social invitations, much less from men like Harry. 
“Does tomorrow at four work for you?” 
You nodded, unable to find your voice. You felt blood rush to your face at the look he gave you next. It was like he was trying to figure you out, understand you with a simple glance. Like he was trying to read you like a book. 
“Great,” he picked up your bag for you, “looking forward to it.”
+
Peter was laying on your bed when you arrived at your little studio apartment. He was half asleep, strong arms wrapped tightly around your stuffed bunny and surrounded by your assortment of other stuffed animals. He shot up at the sound of the door opening, “hey.”
“Do you ever go home?” you kicked off your shoes and set your bag down. “This place isn’t big enough for the both of us.”
In his mind it was. Just perfect. It kept you close.
“Why would I? You’re such good company, bunny.”
You snorted, “I’m sure that’s the reason and definitely not you trying to get away from Ned and Betty.” 
You moved towards your bed, plopping down next to him, adjusting the skirt of your dress that had ridden up when you landed. Peter watched your hands as they rested on your tummy. He could see right down your dress. He could see the white bra hugging your tits, a little bow between the cups. 
“What?” you asked, self-consciously moving your hand to your chin.
“Nothing. Don’t do that,” he looked at the ceiling. It bothered Peter when you did things like that. As if you weren’t the most beautiful person he had ever seen.
You simply huffed, “how did you even get in here?”
He motioned toward the open window, “you need to start locking it. One of these days a creep could just come waltzing in and you’d have no idea.”
“A creep like you,” you joked with a breathy laugh. You tore your stuffed bunny from his arms.
“Worse,” he said lazily.
Silence filled the room for a few seconds as Peter began to doze off again. 
“I met this guy in class today.”
Peter was suddenly very awake. “Oh,” a pause, “who?”
“He said his name is Harry, I don’t know his last name but he was very nice.” You sounded excited, “we’re meeting up at the library tomorrow to study and get some work done.”
Get some work done. Sure, that’s what you were gonna do. Peter knew better than that. You didn’t, of course. That’s why you were so lucky to have Peter with you, by your side, protecting you from evil college guys who just wanted to get under your skirt. They wouldn’t have a clue what to do to you. How to make you feel good and have you purring sweetly in their ears… 
“So, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t break into my home.”
“Huh?”
You gave him an unamused look, “you weren’t listening.”
He grinned, “I’m always listening.”
You rolled your eyes, “I said, don’t come by just in case we come back here.”
Peter furrowed his brows in disgust. What business would he have coming back to your apartment if you were just going to study? Did he ask you if he could come over? 
“Why would you do that?”
You shifted uncomfortably, “I don’t know…”
Peter felt sick. 
“We should do something else instead. There’s a new Vietnamese place not far from here. MJ says they have really good pho.”
“Peter…” you started. He knew you were going to say no. You rarely said no to him. “How about Friday? We can get takeout and come back here and watch movies. Your pick.” 
His first mistake was looking over at you. Your chubby cheeks and pretty lips pulled up into a sweet smile. Your eyes were pleading, please say yes, please say yes. His second mistake was giving in.
“Fine.”
+
Peter left your apartment shortly after that. You had spent the rest of the night going over the conversation trying to figure out where you went wrong. He seemed upset as he hugged you goodbye. His brown eyes didn’t hold the same warmth they always did. Maybe he thinks I’m trying to replace him. But that wouldn’t make any sense. You only just met Harry. You didn’t know anything about him besides his first name. 
“Hey!” Harry called a tad too loudly for the library. He stood from his seat, waving you over.
In all honesty, you didn’t expect him to be there. It was a little before four and you had arrived with low expectations. Though this was only intended to be a study session and nothing more, Harry was a very attractive man. He was funny and charming and extroverted and you… were none of those things.
“Hi,” you mumbled as you neared the table he was seated at. It was in the far corner, furthest away from the librarian. Or any of the other stressed university students. 
“I chose this table so we won’t have to whisper,” he smiled, patting the open seat beside him.
His eagerness made you blush. “Good idea,” your voice was still small.
He chuckled, “thanks,” he dramatically whispered.
You blushed further, “sorry.”
The both of you were silent as you took out your laptops. 
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for some time now,” he started. “I read one of your pieces when the semester started and I really enjoyed it. You’re a phenomenal writer.”
“Really?” he appeared nonchalant as he typed in his password. As if he hadn’t just given you the kindest compliment you had ever received.
“Yeah, it’s so obvious how passionate you are. I mean every time I look at you, you look so entranced by the books you read or by the professor or your work.”
He looked at you?
“Oh,” your face felt warmer, “um, thank you.”
He smiled at you, “no problem, it’s true.”
You felt butterflies in your tummy and you began to log into your laptop to avoid looking at him.
You began to work in silence, hyper-aware of every time Harry leaned in close to you, reading your story as you typed. He smelled of musk and vanilla. His head of blonde locks tickled your ear.
Eventually, you presumed he grew bored as he shut his laptop and turned to face you in his chair. You attempted to ignore him but your typing began to slow and your focus was only on the boy beside you.
You gave him a faux look of annoyance, “I thought we were here to study.”
“We are,” he propped his head up on his hand that rested on the table. “To study and get to know each other.” 
Get to know each other. 
That was unexpected. 
You couldn’t ignore the butterflies that erupted in your tummy, “Oh, okay, yeah.”
Surprisingly, you had a decent amount in common with Harry. Of course, not overly so. Not like you and Peter. But this is a good thing. You’re making your own friends.
+
“Oh, he’s so lovely, Pete!” you gushed, your nose wiggling as you spoke.
“Mhm,” Peter watched you with a strange look, mouth full of boba pearls, “you’ve mentioned that.”
You gave him a smile that normally would have made him turn to mush. Only this time, it didn’t. Had you smiled at Harry like that?
“I’m excited!” you waved your hands in the air, “I’m making my own friends, Pete. I’m an independent woman now.”
He rolled his eyes as he took another sip of his tea, “good. Good for you.” He couldn’t help the bitter feeling that rested in the pit of his stomach. 
Independent. You had made a single “friend” (Peter didn’t even want to think about that. He knew Harry was just using you, that’s not what friends do. You shouldn’t throw that term around like that. He was your friend. Peter was your friend.) and you already pegged yourself as independent. He could laugh in your face. You were far too pure to face the world without him by your side. Like hell you were independent.
You pouted, your eyes searching for his, “are you angry with me?”
Angry? Why would he be angry? Because you hadn’t shown at your arranged time? Because the reason you were late was that you wanted to squeeze in an extra “study date” with Harry? No, he wasn’t angry. Not at you anyway.
“Of course not, bunny. Could never be.”
It was true, he wasn’t necessarily angry, he was more so slightly bothered by what you had done. That’s how it usually was. You would do something that Peter did not agree with but he would never be angry. Just mildly annoyed. He couldn’t be angry with his sweet little bunny. You probably didn’t even know the consequences of your actions. He couldn’t blame you for that.
You smiled, leaning in to hug him. Peter was immediately enveloped in warmth, your soft body melding with his. The sweet scent of lavender and honey was all around him. Your hair tickled his neck where you buried your face. You were on your knees on the couch, allowing Peter a view of your backside covered in your loungewear.
He loved your hugs. They always succeed in lifting his spirits and making him a little dizzy. You were just so warm and soft and perfect for him. 
You pulled away, still smiling as you sunk back into your spot on your tiny, tiny couch and pulled your tea to your lips. 
He let himself watch as you wrapped your lovely mouth around the straw. A minuscule puddle of milk tea formed on your bottom lip, and you licked it up as you removed the straw. Your tongue was wet and a delightful shade of pink as you slid it across the expanse of your lip.
He felt a throb in his sweatpants. Shifting, he asked, “so, what else did you do today?”
You hummed, chewing the balls of boba in your mouth, “that’s all. Just hung out with Harry. We have a lot more in common than I thought,” you giggled. “We just don’t run out of things to talk about.”
He inhaled, feeling himself go soft, “that’s a lot of talking in the library.”
“Oh, we didn’t go to the library,” you shook your head. 
He gave you a look, “where did you go?”
You looked hesitant, “um, we went to his flat. It was nearby and he had forgotten his books, so it was easier to stay there.” 
How convenient. 
“Bunny,” Peter started. 
You had a guilty look on your face as you stared at him, “I know,” your voice was small, “not safe. I know… but he’s not like the other guys Pete. He wouldn’t hurt me.”
“How can you be so sure, hm? You’re in no way prepared to protect yourself. What if he had done something to you? What would you have done?”
“He wouldn’t…” you looked down, “he wouldn’t do anything.” You bit your lip as you nervously whispered, “I think he likes me.”
Peter could hardly hear you. He was sure he hadn’t heard correctly because of how softly you spoke. “Speak up, bunny. I can’t hear you.”
“I said I think he likes me,” you said a little louder. He could see the embarrassment on your face. Like you couldn’t believe you had said that out loud.
Peter swallowed, “oh.” 
There was a pause, “what makes you think that?”
“Well,” your nose fluttered, “he said he’s never met anyone like me. And he,” you glanced up at him before returning your gaze to your lap, “he tried to kiss me.”
Oh. 
Peter didn’t know how to react. He stared at your pretty eyes with his brows cinched and an analyzing gaze. The first thought to pop into his was: did you kiss him? Then: did you want to kiss him?
“Oh,” he managed to say, “did you?”
You inhaled, “um, no…” you trailed off, shifting uncomfortably. “I couldn’t.”
Good. He doesn’t deserve to feel your lips. He doesn’t deserve your first kiss. 
“I don’t know how,” you looked up at him. Your eyes looked glassy and you had a look of embarrassment on your face.
It should have been obvious. Peter did keep any potential love interest as far from you as you could manage, yet he was still flustered.
He hummed, feeling blood rush to his groin, “you don’t?”
You shook your head, “no… never learned how.”
Your lips looked so pretty as you pouted, shame present on your face. Peter wanted to reach over, pull you in close, and kiss you softly. He wanted to run his hands through your hair and up your soft curves. To hear your lovely noises as you gave into him. 
He grimaced as the image of Harry’s dirty lips inching closer to yours. Your pure, innocent mouth being tainted by his filthy one. He could have that. What else would he make you do?
He could only imagine your gasp of surprise, your inexperienced movements, your sugary taste. But you were sitting right in front of him, weren’t you? You had enough confidence in him that you would even confess such a thing. He was obligated to help you, wasn’t he? You’re essentially asking for help, right?
“I could,” he paused, unsure, “I could teach you.”
“Really?” You straightened your back a tad, eyes widening at the offer.
You trusted him so much. After all these years that you’d known him, Peter had never once misled you in any way shape, or form. He was the person you trusted most because you knew he had your best interest in mind. He was your best friend. He was there to keep you safe.
“Mhm,” he moved a little closer, “if you’d want that, I can.”
You nodded eagerly, “yes, Peter, please.”
Yes, Peter, please…
You sat still as Peter invaded your space.
He licked his lips, you reluctantly placed one hand on your thigh, and the other reaching up to cup your chubby face. The warmth of your being was seeping into him so deep he felt warmer than he ever had.
You looked at him expectantly, your glassy gaze flickering from his honey brown eyes to his lips. 
“Are you ready?” He whispered, mouth mere inches from yours.
You inhaled, “yes, Peter. I wanna be good for Harry.”
He ignored the pang in his chest, “well, you have to be good for me first, bunny.”
You nodded, fluttering your eyes shut. He watched you for a second. Your nose wiggled faintly as you breathed and you sat patiently waiting with your pouty lips puckered up slightly. 
He was able to see it all this close to you. All of your imperfections that he never had the privilege of noticing before. It only made him long for you more.
Peter ignored the thought in his head that said if he knew you’d give in to him so easily under the pretense of teaching you, he would’ve offered his services much earlier.
He leaned in, hovering just before your lips, eyeing how your eyebrows furrowed and your lips extended further. But not a single complaint about Peter’s excruciatingly slow pace because he knows best, and he knew you knew that.
He could feel your shaky exhales on his skin as he finally connected your lips. He felt himself twitch, once, twice, at the sheer feeling of your lips pressed against his. It was harder to refrain from going further - maybe a hand up your thigh, up to your belly and to your tits, maybe wrap them around your neck…
He felt your face contort as he began to finally move his mouth against yours, your kisses were as sloppy as he’d imagined them to be. And he was correct, your inexperience made him painfully hard. He reluctantly removed his hand from your thigh and placed it on his bulge. He just couldn’t resist. You let out a high shaky breath as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, tasting you.
Peter could taste the remnants of your milk tea on your tongue. You attempted to mirror his movements and he felt another throb at your feeble efforts.
He rubbed his hand onto his hard cock to resist the urge to do something completely inappropriate like take your hand to place it on his thigh to get him even closer to his release. He didn’t believe it would take much at all for him to cum. Your mouth moving against his was more than enough.
You began to get the hang of it and it somehow made Peter’s erection even more painful. His hips involuntarily jerked as you wrapped your arms up around his neck, tugging him close. Your thigh brushed against his cock, and he sighed. You gasped, your tongue halting its sloppy movements.
He could feel you pulling back and he chased your lips, pushing into you and not permitting you to disconnect your mouths. You leaned back against the arm of the small couch in your attempt to pull away from your best friend’s lips. Peter followed you, body against yours. His cock sat on your thigh and he hoped you couldn’t feel it twitch. 
As his hips made small movements, grinding into your thigh. One of his hands wrapped around the back of your head, keeping you against him, while the other felt up your sides, resting below your tits. You let out a whiny sound as you began to kiss him back again.
Peter’s thrusts became more erratic as he drew closer and closer to the edge. He felt your thigh tense and your hips lifted off the couch, pushing into his lower abdomen. Your arms tightened around his neck. 
Your kisses were still messy, you used far too much tongue and had little technique but Peter had never had a better kiss. He came abruptly when you moaned into his mouth again, hand pulling on the hair at the name of his neck. He pulled away from you and groaned, out of breath into your shoulder as he steadied himself.
“Pete,” you breathed, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be so eager.”
Peter was taken aback. He didn’t respond as he regained his composure into your warm shoulder, inhaling your scent. His cock was slowly going soft but the proximity to you made him believe that it would shoot back up with any movement you made. 
“I just,” a pause, “I guess I got a little carried away.”
It baffled Peter that you thought any of what happened had been your fault. As if he didn’t invade your space and force your head into place so he could get himself off.
“It’s okay, bunny.”
You buried your head into his shoulder and there was no sign of parting for a while. Peter only pulled away when he felt his hot cum seeping through his pants in a wet puddle. His movements were quick when he grabbed a throw pillow and threw it over his lap.
“You know I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”
+
You had spent an increasing amount of time with Harry over the last few weeks. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you’d thought he’d have grown bored of you by now. But it seemed the opposite. He texted you often, smiled at you in a way that made you feel warm and special, and he seemed genuinely interested and excited to speak to you. You hadn’t felt that way since you met Peter.
It had been the only thing on your mind for the last week. Well, that and your mess of a friendship with Peter Parker.
After the kiss shared with Peter, you had spent less time with him. On top of plans with Harry, you felt guilty for how you acted. You felt that you had taken advantage of him and his kindness. You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed and in a way uncomfortable around Peter now. You knew it wasn’t his fault, it was yours. And he deserved better.
You began to ignore his calls and texts and you took different routes to and from your classes. You even stopped replying to Ned and MJ after they began questioning where you’d run off to. In a way that comment made you feel a little ridiculous. It was like they expected Peter to be dragging you around on a leash. Like you were his little pet or something of the like.
That wasn’t Peter’s fault though. You didn’t believe anything was. Peter was a saint in your eyes. Your savior of a life of solace. That’s why you felt the worst you ever had about locking your window. 
The first night, you had pretended to be asleep when you heard light taps on the glass. You closed your eyes and ignored the noise, waiting for what felt like hours to move again. 
Now, almost two weeks later, you had finally been confronted.
Peter looked at you in a way you had never seen and couldn’t decipher. His lips were pulled in a tight line and his forehead and eyebrows were creased, his eyes looked darker and his gaze was hard and they held a different feeling. Even the air around him felt different, it was cold and suffocating.
“You’re avoiding me.”
“Hm? Oh, no, no, Pete m’not-“
“You are.”
You opened your mouth to speak but your words were caught in your throat. You were avoiding him. 
“Why? Did I do something to upset you?”
“No,” you took a deep breath, “I’ve just been busy-“
“Busy? With what? Osborn? He keeps you so busy that you can’t even respond to my texts?” 
You felt your lip quiver and your eyes welled up with tears at his tone and his unwavering stare. Peter had never reacted this way towards you. You didn’t even know he could speak that way. 
You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, so you looked down at your feet and attempted to blink away your tears.
Peter looked down at you, waiting for you to say something, anything. He wanted - no, he expected an apology. He had been restless the past few weeks, waiting for you to respond to him. He had been following you around as New York’s friendly neighbor Spider-Man, so he was well aware of what you were up to. He watched as you found new routes to your home, hid away in obscure places, and, of course, he watched your giddy expression as Harry Osborn gripped your hand or your waist and walked around with you on his arm as if he owned you.
It didn’t help that Peter had seen you locking your window. Double-checking, triple checking that you had locked it, and then periodically again throughout the day. At first, Peter suspected that you had known he got off on your thigh that day, that you were creeped out or disgusted by him. 
“So? What is it? Why have you been avoiding me?”
You sniffled and Peter surprised himself when he didn’t soften at the noise. He didn’t feel the usual tighten of his heart nor did his stare at you become less intense. He wanted you to feel like this. It made it feel a sort of power having you vulnerable in front of him, for him.
“Y/N, I’m speaking to you. I expect an answer. Did you lose your ability to speak to me when you started fooling around with Osborn? Neglecting me? Neglecting our friendship? Does it mean so little to you?”
Tears started falling from your eyes at the sound of your name. Peter never called you that. You were his bunny, his best friend. You covered your face with your hands in shame. You weakly shook your head.
“So you can’t speak, hm?” 
Peter could think of a few ways to get you to start talking. Many scenarios to get your pretty mouth moving.
Peter had thought a lot about you recently, somehow even more than normal. His thoughts had turned alarmingly crude the more time you spent away from him. What was once an innocent daydream of kissing your lips turned into a filthy, sordid fantasy of flipping your skirt and fucking you over the table in the library where you studied with Harry.
Flashes of your mouth and body were intrusive thoughts and the feeling of them on him lingered. They left him unable to focus on patrolling, ultimately leading to him jacking off on the roof of the building across the street from your apartment. Some days, he was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of your bare legs through cracks in your sheer white curtains.
“M’sorry Peter,” you peered up at him through teary lashes, “didn’t mean to make you sad.”
He clicked his tongue, “well, you did.”
You let out a sob as you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his waist and tucking your face into his chest. His heart rate kept its steady pace and Peter stood still for a few seconds. Would he forgive you, no, could he forgive you so easily?
He focused on your warmth around him and he felt his walls lower. He begrudgingly hugged you back, taking in the feel of your curves under his fingers. He sighed, “it’s okay, bunny. Don’t cry.”
You wanted to cry harder. Normally, Peter would be cradling your face, wiping your tears, and pulling you close, enveloping you in his warmth. It was nothing like his tight grip and cold demeanor he currently had. You hadn’t meant to upset him so much but you just felt so guilty for possibly crossing or blurring the lines of your friendship. 
Peter knew he would give into you. The way you whimpered and cried into his chest made his heart feel heavy. He began to rub your back and he placed a kiss on your head. Your arms tightened around him. 
“C’mon, bunny. It’s okay, we’re okay.”
You whimpered again, doing all you could to collect yourself. Peter held you tightly until you lifted your head. 
Your face was red and puffy, wet with your tears and your eyeliner was smudged at the corners of your bloodshot eyes. Your lips were slightly opened as you breathed through your mouth. Your nose was runny and you sniffled, nose wiggling. Peter felt his pants tighten. You looked so wrecked and it was all for him. Because he was upset with you. He had that power over you.
“Are you okay?” concern filled his face.
“Mhm,” you said, shakily smiling. “Missed you.”
He smiled at you and you felt the warmth return, “I missed you more, bun. Should we catch up?”
You nodded frantically, grabbing his hand and pulling him in the direction of your apartment.
+
Things had since gotten much better. You were in Peter’s grasp once more and Harry Osborn had been moved to the backburner. 
You sighed as you switched your kettle on for a cup of tea. Peter was busy and you were stuck at home alone again. You were bored beyond belief as your eyes flickered from your TV to the warming kettle. Your foot tapped on the ground and you all but ran to your phone when the familiar ping came from it. 
Your eyes widened and excitement erupted in your belly. Harry had sent you a message.
hey stranger… u around?
You contemplated an answer. A part of you felt you shouldn’t respond but another was happy to hear from him.
Maybe
The response was instantaneous.
meet me at the bar
You smiled, rushing to your closet.
After making up with Peter you had begun to neglect your friendship with Harry. You were so focused on keeping Peter happy with you. This had become an increasingly difficult task that required a lot of time and attention.
Peter was easily bothered with you now. His patience would run thin and he would turn cold in the blink of an eye. You had spent nights crying, wishing you hadn’t ruined your most important friendship. But none of that stopped you from trying. 
You knew Peter didn’t like Harry, that was obvious. He’d roll his eyes and stare blankly at you with an expression of disappointment you had seen so much of recently whenever you would mention him in conversation. He made sure to remind you that Harry was just like other boys who wanted to take advantage of you and hurt you but he said nothing more.
As you walked into the cafe, Harry waved his arms in the air. You smiled, a blush forming as you took a seat across from him. He looked happy to see you, and he told you that. 
“I missed you, y’know,” he looked down, a pink hue on his cheeks. “Haven’t seen much of you recently.”
“Me too, um, sorry about that. I’ve been a little, um, busy.”
He looked up with a shy grin, “s’okay, I’m happy you’re here now.” You were slightly taken aback by his shyness. 
He paused, licking his lips and taking a deep breath, “so, Y/N, I’ve been thinking…”
Oh no, here it goes. He’s gonna tell you that he can’t see you anymore. That he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore. 
“Would you like to go on a date with me?”
Your heart stopped, a date? You had never been on a date before. “A date?”
He cleared his throat, looking nervous, “uh, yeah. It’s just, that I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and I missed you so much the last few weeks. So I thought I’d finally ask.”
You exhaled, trying to process his question. “Yes, I’d love to,” you said, face warm and bashful smile.
+
It was cold outside as you walked back to your apartment. Harry had offered to drive you home but you declined, wanting some time alone to think. 
Your mind was racing as you turned into the alleyway before your apartment. You were going on a date with Harry Osborn. What would you wear? What would you talk about? What would you tell Peter?
You sighed, glancing around the dark alley. There was a spider web hanging from a pipe a few steps ahead of you. You began to walk a little faster. If Spider-Man was around there was likely some sort of criminal activity. Hopefully, it wasn’t too close to home.
As you rushed into your apartment, you didn’t bother turning on the lights. You shrugged off your jacket and kicked off your shoes, sighing deeply as you plopped down onto your bed. 
“Where were you?”
Your eyes darted to the source of the noise. The streetlight peering in through the window illuminated him just a tad, barely enough to see his face. But it didn’t matter, you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.
“Peter? How did you get in here?” You distinctly remember closing the window, locking it, and double-checking before walking out the door.
“You were out with Harry. I saw you.”
“Oh, um,” you sat up and pulled your dress down, “W-we were just getting a drink.”
He inhaled deeply and hummed, “just getting a drink.” He let out a dark laugh, “sure you were.”
“We,” you paused, “we were. I haven’t seen him in a while.”
Peter scoffed, “and that’s why you agreed to go on a date with him, hm?”
You opened your mouth to speak but he didn’t let you.
“I thought we’d gotten past this, bunny.” Peter tapped his foot. Did you feel like you didn’t need him anymore? After all, he’d done for you? All these years by your side and you abandon him for the first man who gives you the time of day.
“Why don’t you listen to me? I only want what’s best for you. For us.”
You stayed quiet, looking down at your frilly, white socks. Peter sighed and you heard him rise from his spot on the couch. He lifted your chin with his cold fingers. His eyes looked dark again and the darkness of your room added to the eerie feel of him. He leaned down, fingers light on your chin as he drew closer to your lips. You turned your face away before he could connect your mouths.
What was he doing? 
He scoffed quietly as his hold on your face tightened and forced your face to its previous position. You furrowed your brows as you tried to turn away again. 
“Pete, what are you doing?”
“I’m tired of you treating me this way. I deserve better after all I’ve done for you. All these years I have been there for you. I made sure you were okay and I loved you through it all.”
He loved you? You didn’t like the sound of that. Peter was your best friend and nothing more and you dreaded the possibility that he could think of you as something more than that.
“I know that,” you whispered, “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
A tiny smile graced his lips.
You returned it, “and I love you too Peter, you’re my best friend.”
His grip on your chin turned painful.
Best friend. 
He laughed darkly as he shook his head slightly, “best friend.” He smiled.
Feeling uneasy you smiled softly at him, forcing out a giggle.
His smile fell, “bunny, I love you. I want to be with you. I want you to be mine.”
You gulped, “um,” you looked down, “Peter, I don’t, I don’t feel that way about you.”
“Why? Because of Harry? Because you have ‘choices’ now, hm? I’m not good enough for you?”
You stayed quiet, trying to steady your breathing to keep yourself from crying as Peter used his free hand to move up your arm to your shoulder, holding it forcefully.
You didn’t even know Peter was remotely interested in you. The entire confession made you feel sick to your stomach. While you hadn’t known, the revelation didn’t change the fact that, to you, he was just a friend. This had nothing to do with Harry and his romantic interest in you.
“No, Peter, I just, I’m sorry. I don’t like you like that,” you looked down and spoke so softly you doubted he could hear you.
He scoffed, letting go of your chin and shoulder with a push. You steadied yourself, looking up to see him pacing around the room. You wanted to ask him to leave, but before you could he turned to you again.
“He could never treat you like I do.”
“Peter…”
“No! He couldn’t. I know deep down you know that. He wouldn’t know what to do with a pretty girl like you.”
You shifted uncomfortably.
Peter watched as you fiddled with the hem of your dress. It was the purple one again, his favorite. Harry would never be able to satisfy you the way he would. He just needs to find a way to let you know that. No, he has shown you. Everything he had done since you met should have shown you. You were just… ungrateful. He needed to let you know that you couldn’t get away from him. There was no one else that could love you as he could.
Your heartbeat sped up as Peter took long strides toward you. 
“He doesn’t deserve you like I do,” he shoved his knee between your own and forced them open just enough to fit his leg between them. “And I’m gonna show you, that only I know how to treat you. I know what you deserve and I can give it to you.”
You were confused and scared, you watched him cautiously as he stood before you. 
His hand reached for your hair, he touched it lightly. You let out a shaky breath. You didn’t know what he was about to do. You weren’t sure what he was capable of anymore.
His fingers caressed your face, giving your chubby cheeks a light squeeze as he moved his hand down to your neck. You let out a shaky breath as his hands ghosted over your throat.
“Peter,” you whispered, “what are you doing?” 
He smiled, “I’m gonna make you mine, bunny.”
You felt your lip quiver and you hesitantly pushed his chest, trying to get him away from you. “No, Peter. I don’t want this.”
His hands tightened around your neck, “you don’t know what you want. You’re just a dumb bunny. You don’t know what is good for you. I do.”
Tears welled in your eyes as he leaned down to leave wet kisses on your cheeks and jaw, his hands on your throat. 
You moved your face away, side to side, avoiding his lips. His grip cut off your airways as he gave you a shake, “stop.” He pushed you onto your back, attacking you with kisses. 
Tears fell from your eyes as you tried to push him back. You should’ve been able to, even if it was just a little. But he didn’t budge. Your legs kicked his own trying to get him off. He acted like you hadn’t touched him at all. You bit down on his tongue as it forced its way into your mouth, he pulled back in surprise. You took the opportunity to wiggle out from under him, moving as fast as you could towards the door.
Peter’s temper was running thin. With quick movements, he activated the web shooter tucked under the sleeve of his plaid shirt.
You barely made it a few steps when you were pulled back. Your eyes went to Peter who was seated on your bed, a cold look on his face. The sight of your hand stuck to the table left you in shock. The sticky substance was too strong for you to pull back. You began to sob as you connected the dots. 
Peter was Spider-Man.
You didn’t know how you hadn’t figured it out before. You should’ve known. The random bruises on his body, the overnight strength, and agility, the disappearances, the way he always knew where you were and what you were doing… it should’ve been obvious.
“Peter, please, let me go,” you cried, using all the strength you could muster to attempt to free your hand.
He stood from the bed and took slow steps to where you stood. “You’re my little bunny, and you’re not going anywhere until you realize that.”
As he worked to free your hand you took the other and impulsively delivered a harsh slap to his cheek. Peter didn’t react right away. He kept his eyes on your hand for a few seconds before glancing up.
“Ungrateful little bitch.”
You inhaled, trying to stare at him with the same venom that he did you. He continued to free your hand, sliding the little knife across your thumb, slicing it. You hissed in pain. 
You were so confused, this man was nothing like the Peter Parker you knew and loved. This man was pure evil and you wanted to get as far away from him as you possibly could.
Peter stared at you in disbelief. Could you not see that he was only trying to give you the best? He had to make you see it even if it meant by force. He looked into your eyes filled with fear, tearing threatening to fall and your lip quivering. He wanted you so bad and he was finally going to have you.
Peter looked down, watching the slow drops build on your fingertip before falling onto the counter. Your hand was barely trembling and he softened immediately. He hadn’t meant to cut you so deep.
“I’m sorry, bunny. Are you okay?”
His change in demeanor puzzled you, he had gone from evil to the gentle Peter you knew and loved. 
You nodded stupidly, “mhm, hurts just a little, Peter.”
“Aw, bunny,” he said softly, taking your sticky hand and bringing it to his lips.
His tender touch had you in his grasp again, like he hadn’t just assaulted you, screamed at you, cut you.
He placed a soft kiss on your bleeding finger, eyes looking lovingly into yours. You fed into it like you always did. A drop of your blood rested on his bottom lip, and you watched as he licked it up with a swipe of his tongue. 
He closed his eyes, relishing in the taste of you on his tongue. His cock twitched and he ached to taste your pretty cunt on his tongue. He wasted no time.
Before you knew it, he was throwing you to the bed with ease, flipping your skirt up. He inhaled deeply, feeling his pants tighten further by the sight of your panties. They were just as cute as you. Just what he imagined you’d wear, yet somehow it was better. Your panties were a pale pink color, little hearts a darker shade of pink littering the fabric. He couldn’t help but stare, taking in the view of your pretty panties covering your perfect, plump ass. 
Cries escaped you, pleas for him to just stop. He ignored them, instead of giving your right ass cheek a little slap. He moaned at the cry you made, the way your flesh rippled at the impact.
You had been fooled once again. The Peter Parker you once knew was long gone.
Peter looped his fingers under the delicate fabric, your skin warm, he pulled up roughly. You yelped, arching your back to relieve the pain, but it only gave Peter a better look at your puffy pussy, bulging against the fabric he had pulled. 
“Oh,” he cooed, leaning down and placing a kiss on your ass.
Tears pricked at your eyes again, threatening to fall as you tried to rack your brain for ideas on how to get yourself out of the current situation. You gasped at the abrupt feeling of cold air on your cunt. The tears began to fall.
Unable to control himself, Peter placed a sloppy wet kiss on your cunt. You gasped loudly, trying to move your ass away. He held your hips tightly in place, pressing pecks along the entirety of your backside. A strangled moan fell from your lips as he kissed your clit. 
Peter stared at your pussy, admiring the wet string of slick that drilled from your little hole. He felt a sense of accomplishment at the drip of slick, he was making you feel good even when you resisted. Extending his tongue from his mouth, he licked up your slit, flicking his tongue as he did so. He moaned at the taste of your sweet juices. 
He finally let himself loose, allowing himself to bury his head into your puffy cunt. His hands groped your thighs, kneading them, keeping them apart so he had good access to your cunt.
You tried to hold in your body’s reactions. You held your breath, curled your toes, and turned your hands to fists. But you couldn’t stop a loud mewl as Peter swirled his tongue around your sensitive bud. You bit your lip as you contained sobs. 
Your fingers grabbed onto your sheets, squeezing them tightly as you felt yourself becoming more aroused. The lewd sounds from Peter combined with the wet sounds of your pussy. Peter was essentially drooling, strings of spit and slick keeping him attached to you even when he pulled back for air. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of you.
You felt a coil form in your tummy, tightening with every passing second.
“Are you gonna cum for me, bunny?” Peter asked, his voice deep. 
Your body was trembling and your hips unconsciously pressed into his face. You shook your head, closing your eyes tightly as your mouth opened involuntarily, a loud cry slipping out as the coil snapped. You shook, your knees going weak as your body was overtaken by the pleasant, but unfamiliar sensation. 
Peter groaned into your sopping cunt as he licked up your release. His cock was so hard it was painful, his mindless humping on your sheets wasn’t nearly enough. He held you up when your body gave in, on the verge of going limp as he continued his movements on your pussy long after you had become sensitive.
“Peter, please stop, hurts,” you managed to blubber out.
He pulled away, a string of spit connecting you. He watched as it snapped, falling onto his plaid shirt. He licked his lips, sliding his arms out from under your thighs. Your lower half hit your bed and you were unable to move. Your pussy throbbed from overstimulation as you laid dumbly. Weak little moans falling from your mouth. 
Peter reached a hand up to wipe at his face, collected the excess juices, and inserted his fingers into his mouth to consume it. He savored the taste, watching as your body jolted from the aftershocks of your orgasm. The skirt of your dress was scrunched around your waist and your ass was glistening under the streetlights from where he had drooled over it. Your thighs were in the same position they were in when he dropped them. He felt himself twitch, you were too weak to move them. 
Harry couldn’t have made you cum like that. He probably would even eat you out. What a waste of a sweet cunt that would be. He could live off your pussy alone he was sure of it. 
Peter rested a hand on your lower back as he stood from the bed. You glanced over at him, relieved that he was going to leave you alone. Your tears had stopped and you felt them drying on your cheeks. 
When Peter pulled off his plaid shirt and the gray t-shirt under it, you wanted to scream. You wanted to get up and push him out of your apartment. He had just forcefully inflicted oral sex onto you and you were terrified of where he wanted to go next. 
You couldn’t help your stare at Peter’s toned body. His defined abdomen and strong arms were illuminated perfectly under the soft light. You wanted to slap yourself as you felt yourself become slightly aroused.
You managed to sit up, slowly and gently seating yourself down. You instinctively reached for your stuffed bunny. You held it to your chest as you watched Peter fiddle with his belt. “Peter,” you called quietly.
Your hair was a mess and you had faint black tracks going down your chubby face. Your lipstick was smudged. Your thick, soft arms were clinging to your bunny. The bunny he had gifted you years ago. Your dress was askew and barely covered your thighs. 
“Yes, bunny?” he pulled off his belt.
“Please stop now. I’m sorry I upset you.”
He sighed and simply shook his head. “I helped you, now you need to help me.”
Helped you? You didn’t ask for his help. 
“But-”
“Look at what you did, bun,” he pulled off his underwear as he tugged off his pants. His cock sprung free and slapped his stomach. It was big and long and thick, protruding veins ran up its length, leading to an angry red tip. You felt your lip wobble, you weren’t even sure if it would fit. “It hurts and only you can make it feel better. You caused this. It’s your fault that this is happening.”
You weren’t sure what to think. Was this your fault? 
“Lay back for me, bunny.” he motioned to the bed. “I need gonna fuck your pretty pussy.”
You shook your head. 
Peter rolled his eyes, “do what you're told, stupid bunny. Don’t act like you don’t like it. Couldn’t you feel how wet you were for me?”
You stayed in place. He clenched his jaw and grabbed your ankles, pulling you until your back hit the cushion of your mattress. You tried to kick the hold of his wrists from your feet. 
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he felt up your thigh, eyeing you in a way that made you feel self-conscious. You felt like prey.
“I always like this dress,” he said, tugging it up your body. Peter pulled your bunny from your arms to pull the material over your head. “It’s my favorite one. Looks so beautiful on you.” 
You reached for the bunny to cover yourself but were unable to reach it. You wrapped your arms around your tummy. Peter clicked his tongue, “no.” He leaned down to press kisses over your middle and he pried your hands away for better access. You felt tears brimming.
He pulled your bra off with ease, absentmindedly as he ran his mouth over your skin. You gasped and turned away, refusing to watch. You felt his tongue find your nipple and you hated the way it aroused you. He groaned and you felt his cock against your thighs. He kneaded your breasts as he kissed up your neck. He looked you in the eye as his cock found your cunt, running up and down the slit. 
“It’s gonna feel so good, bunny. You’re gonna crave my cock after. You’re gonna realize that no one is better for you than me. Fuck, you’re so warm and soft.” 
His cock twitched on your pussy, causing you to inhale shakily. 
Peter was so ready to be inside you. The warmth your cunt radiated made his cock ache so bad. He pushed his cock through your fold, watching as your face contorted. Your hole was pulling him in as soon as his cock head reached your entrance. It was like you were made to take him. 
Your face had a pained expression painted over it and your hole contracted. 
“Relax, bunny. Or it’s gonna hurt a lot more than it needs to. You were doing so well just now.”
He was too big, the further he sank into you, the more it hurt.
He couldn’t resist the involuntary thrust of his hips. You jolted up at the strength of them. As he pulled out he looked down. The sight of your loose tits, belly rolls, and puffy pussy around his cock made him feral. The red coat of blood on his pelvis made him feel a sense of accomplishment. He had you first.
He finally had you. All of you. And he deserved it all after everything he’d done.
Peter forced his way in until he bottomed out. Relishing in the way your tight pussy squeezed him. He knew it hurt from the way you had begun to cry and the way your body shook but he didn’t care. You’d adjust. Soon you’d be a stupid cockwhore. What he always wanted you to be. All for him. 
“Ow,” you cried, reaching your hand up to his back, seeking comfort.
“You feel so good,” he moaned.
Peter began a slow pace, pulling out just a little before sliding back in. your nails dug into his back as your head moved side to side, whines, and cries leaving your lips. More and more slick came from your hole as he continued his abuse. 
Soon enough his thrusts had gotten faster, harder and your thoughts were few and far between.
Fuck. 
I don’t want this.
Feels so good.
Peter’s hands were all over you. Running up your sides, squeezing your soft skin, playing with your clit, and caressing your face as tears fell from your eyes.
You weren’t sure when you had begun to cry or whether it was due to pain or pleasure. 
Peter moved his lips to rest on yours, kissing you in sync with his thrusts. You whined, moving your face away, “no, stop.”
 His hand that rested on your bouncing tits delivered a quick, harsh slap to your cheek. You cried out, tears falling faster. Peter pinched your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. You opened your eyes, watching as he spit into your mouth, a string of spit lingering. You clenched around him.
Peter chuckled, “you liked that. Dirty slut.”
You had stopped fighting him, too caught up in the feeling of his cock in your cunt. Peter knew you would. He knew you loved him, too. 
He fit so perfectly inside you like you were meant for him.
A string of “Hm, uh, uh's” and breathy high-pitched noises fell from your lips with every thrust Peter made. The noises harmonized with the squelching sounds of your wet pussy. It was music to Peter’s ears. The prettiest noises he had ever heard.
Soon, you felt a coil in your belly. It snapped a part of you back into reality, while the other was dumb at the feel of Peter’s cock.
“Peter, hm, Peter, uh stop, m’gonna-”
Peter shushed you, sloppily kissing your neck, “cum for me.”
You were lightheaded, the feeling was too good. Peter suckled at your soft spot and you felt yourself cum with a high whine. Your orgasm was more intense this time. Your mind was blank as tears poured from your eyes and your body tensed. Your back arched off the mattress and you scratched down Peter’s back, holding him close.
Peter felt dizzy, you were everywhere. He could feel you everywhere and he had never felt such ecstasy. He twitched inside you as your cunt clenched around his cock deliciously. 
You weren’t able to contain your moans as you cried harder, salty tears saturating the sheets beneath your head as he fucked you past your orgasm.
“I’m gonna cum inside you,” he said, voice deep with desire. The way your pussy fluttered around him became too much.
“N-no,” you shakily moved your hands down to his pelvis, pushing with all the strength your weak body could muster. “P-peter, don’t want,” black mascara-stained tears streamed down your face, your lipstick smudged up to your nose, and you looked absolutely wrecked.
“I didn’t fucking ask,” his voice was near a growl, “m’gonna cum in this pretty, puffy pussy. Listen to it scream for me, pulling me back in, fluttering around me. You want this.”
You shook your head, pushing once again, you let out a choked sob as he thrusted particularly hard, “N-no.”
Peter moaned loudly, squeezing your plump waist as he stilled. 
You could feel his hot, hot cum painting your walls. You felt a weight on your heart, he had coaxed multiple orgasms from you, stolen them and your innocence along with them. And now, he was inside of you. His cum had likely forced its way into your cervix, mingling with your most intimate of places. 
A small part of you liked it. You tried your hardest to ignore that part of you that enjoyed being full. So full of Peter. He was the best for you, after all. 
Peter thrusted a few more times, dreading the thought of leaving your tight, warm hole. 
You were everything he had ever imagined. Your plump body, your sugary sweet taste, your beautiful noises…
He would never let you go.
Peter gave your limp body a final kiss. You were too fucked out to react. As he pulled out of you he stared at your puffy cunt. It was wet with slick and sweat. Cum slid out of the abused hole. He took his finger and pushed it back in, loving the way you jolted and tried to close your legs.
Peter Parker loved to look at you. Even more so now, with you bare in front of him. Your skin was glistening under the rays of the artificial streetlights outside your window and remnants of your innocence were on his cock.
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thyme-in-a-bubble · 7 months
Text
stay still
kinktober, day five
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warnings: peter parker x reader, smut, established relationship, bondage (but it's with his webs, grrrrr), oral, dirty talk, orgasm denial
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023
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“Stay still.” 
Peter’s voice vibrated against your soppy folds, unfortunately only having the opposite effect on your bucking hips as the added tingle caused your buzzy form to lose control. 
“Stop,” he spoke a little firmer this time, clasping his strong forearm over your frantic pelvis in an attempt to keep you still against his tongue. 
“Fuck, Pete,” you panted, eyes rolling in your skull from how close you were to the edge, “please don’t stop, that feels so good-”
But your sentence abruptly morphed into a shrill yelp as ivory webs suddenly clung to your middle and twisted you around 180 degrees as it flung you up off the bed. Hovering just over a foot off the mattress, hair falling down around your face, your wide eyes trained on your boyfriend as he got up and shot a few more latticed restraints in your direction, effectively hog-tying the rest of your limbs to the single cord that clung to the ceiling. 
“Peter-,” he sent one last web out to engulf your lips.
Grazing his fingers through your tousled hair, his dark eyes then twinkled, “I told you to stay still, baby.” 
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© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 
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jamespottersdaisy · 2 months
Text
A man without love
Peter Parker x fem!reader
|1.4k|
a/n: just a fluffy banter during a cozy night
song choice has absolutely no relation to the fic whatsoever, i just listened to it the whole time and liked lmao. dedicated to my baby jay @hollandweather
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Moonlight to show the way so we can follow
Waiting inside her eyes was my tomorrow
Then something changed her mind, her kisses told me
I had no loving arms to hold me
Every day I wake up, then I start to break up
Lonely is a man without love
Every day I start out, then I cry my heart out
Lonely is a man without love
Somewhere amidst the mellifluous melody, the door clicks, and you know Peter is home. 
You’ve been captivated in your book for far too long to notice the hour; quite late, might I add. It must have been a rough night for him to decide to stay past two in the morning for patrol.
You grab your phone and toss it between the pages as a bookmark before hopping on your feet.
“Nice song, baby,” Peter murmurs as he dawdles to your room, leaving its door agape. You wager he is changing to something much more comfortable than that suit of his but still barge in the room nonetheless. “How was the night, big guy?”
You catch a few discoloration on his skin as his bare torso moves around beside the bed. He glances at you sidelong, swiftly hauling a grey shirt on. “Smashing success. No criminals left around.”
He might have rushed to shroud his skin with cloth from you, but you are shrewd enough to match his furtiveness. No chance he is hiding those tiny injuries from you. Perhaps he has a good reason to do so– such as the look on your face when you see him hurt– but still, not good enough of a reason to deny you. 
“Lemme see,” you clutch the hem of his shirt to lift it up, only for his hand to grab yours to parry.
“On my period, sorry, beautiful.” His eyes may be drooping from exhaustion, yet his smirk is as smug as always while you glower daggers at him.
“Let me see, Peter.”
“That’s harassment.”
“There’s something purplish on your back,” you try harder, but he is stronger.
“You’re delusional.”
“I know what I saw, quit gaslighting me.”
“Gaslighting is not real. You’re crazy,” Peter shakes his head.
“Are you hiding hickeys of trysting?” you jeer, making him chuckle and release your hand from his at last. 
“Nope, don’t have time for that,” he shakes his head gallantly. “Just bruises of valour.”
Which simply earns a mocking scoff from you.
You don’t see or feel his amorous gaze on you as your fingers trace the new bruises. They’ll heal, you know they will, and still, you want to kiss every one of them into evanescing.
“How was your night?” he whispers, bringing his hand to your hair and pushing a strand behind your ear. 
“Better than yours, apparently,” You now touch the small nick on his jaw tenderly and turn around to get a band-aid from the nightstand.
His eyes follow your movements around, gears working in his brain. “Please, not the pink one–” he calls when you grab a band-aid.
Too late. You are already springing back with a wide grin. “Pink one!”
“Not the pink one…” he closes his eyes in disdain as you strut back to his side and place a screaming pink plaster on his jaw.
He looks down in your eyes as you check his handsome face, clearly proud of your work. “I look so manly.”
“Most manliest you ever looked.”
“Wanna get in the bed with me?
“You’re on your period, Peter.”
He laughs and turns around before throwing himself into the bed. “C’mon, take your book and the music and come here.”
I cannot face this world that's fallen down on me
So if you see my girl, please send her home to me
Tell her about my heart that's slowly dying
Say I can't stop myself from crying
Every day I wake up, then I start to break up
Lonely is a man without love
Every day I start out, then I cry my heart out
Lonely is a man without love
When you sit on the bed, legs crossed with your book on your lap, Peter takes your phone, restarting the same song. He averts his eyes to your book. “Anything new?” 
“Oh, yeah, you’ve missed so much,” your eyes widen with excitement, and Peter’s smile widens intuitively. “I don’t even remember where you left off.”
“The girl’s memories got stolen,” he reminds you. “Want me to braid your hair?”
“I get so sleepy when you do that,” you shake your head and open the book to go through pages with hopes of remembering what you’ve read since Peter left.
“I should hope so, do you know what hour it is?”
“But I’ve missed you,” your head snaps up, and Peter narrows his eyes. His hand is already up in your hair, playing and caressing the locks gently. “Liar. You’ve been reading that book since I’ve left home.”
“And two hours before that,” you lean into his touch.
“You’ve officially lost the right to complain about your headache,” He props up in bed, switching to a more suitable position for easier access to your hair.
“I will do it regardless.”
‘I know you will,” his long fingers take three strands, and you are already feeling sleepy. “Now, please, tell me what happened after the poor girl lost her memories.”
You pause for a minute, mustering all the plot you’ve consumed to drain. As you remember the things the poor main character went through, your blood pressure soars, eyes widen and voice raise. “They lied to her! Can you believe that?”  you exclaim, at which Peter raises his brows in happy bewilderment. “God, I hate her mother so much!”
“Stepmother. Go on,” He interjects before passing to another strand of hair and dividing it into three. “What about her situationship?”
“He is not her situationship, Peter–”
“I mean, they flirt about killing each other, sleep together, but they’re not together.”
“That’s sexual tension and slow burn,” you scowl. Peter lets go of another newly done braid.
“Yep, that’s what I said,” he nods, caressing your cheek with his thumb. ”Situationship. What happened to him?”
That’s when you straighten your back, and Peter rolls his eyes. He never was fond of the male main characters of the books you’ve read. No matter how they looked and what they did, you always seemed to be infatuated with them.
“He was looking for her, and he found her and he freaked out when she didn’t remember her–” You start babbling about the male lead, but Peter is not amused.
“Breathe.”
“But he could not openly tell her everything, it would freak her out, so he–”
“Still not breathing, beautiful.”
“Stop interrupting,” you wave off your hand.”So he lied about who he is to gain her trust and–”
“He’s such a liar, what do you even see in him?”
“He’s hot,” you lightly slap his chest to stop him from cutting off your every word. 
“He is short, but sure, go on,” Peter grabs you by the arm and yanks you closer to his chest. 
This is his favourite time of the day, and you are always too busy to see it. Your voice echoes around the room, albeit he forgets most of the things you are saying by the morning. What matters is that you are talking. To him. With him. 
“Doesn’t matter, still hot,” You nuzzle against his chest, feeling his hands roam around your hair and back. It’s dizzying and yet the most comforting feeling you’ve ever felt. “So, they start spending time behind her mother and slowly grow a bond.”
“There we go, she’s gonna take forever to trust him again,” Peter’s tone is already lowered, welcoming you into a place of drowsiness. Both of you in your pyjamas, tangled together under a blanket that Peter wrapped around you. 
“So, you wouldn’t wait and fight for my love even if it took forever?” your words are heavy, and your voice is slumberous. Peter smiles down at your hooded eyes and rests his chin against yours.
“Baby, you didn’t acknowledge your feelings for me for six months.” He is right. You fought a lot to not ruin the friendship at first.
“I still could have taken my time,” you mumble, eyes closed. “Act oblivious to your flirting.”
“I could not be clearer that I was flirting,” he chuckles slowly, taking the book away from you and placing it on the counter. “And I would’ve waited another six months.”
“You would get bored.”
“Of you? Never,” is all that is said before you doze off and he shuts off the lights.
Every day I wake up, then I start to break up
Knowing that it's cloudy above
Every day I start out, then I cry my heart out
Lonely is a man without love
Every day I wake up, then I start to break up
Knowing that it's cloudy above
Every day I start out, then I cry my heart out
Lonely is a man without love
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thank you for reading! let me know if you liked it!!!! love you guys so much!
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morwap · 2 years
Text
𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑—𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟎
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fwb!dom!Peter, villain!sub!reader, f!fingering
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your arms were webbed together behind you, webs were all over your back and shoulders and went up to the ceiling, webs were on the back of your knees and they went up to the ceiling as well.
you could barely move and were stuck with your legs spread and your body above the ground but this was what you wanted, what you came here for. Your suit was tight on your skin and the way the webs tied you up made it even tighter, your hands tried to pull at the sticky webbing that tied your arms together as you waited for peter to come out of the darkness.
You heard the soft footsteps coming closer, peter finally coming into the light.
“Well look at you, caught in my web huh?” peter quipped, getting closer to you and tilting his head.
“Whoops” you sighed, your cunt starting to throb as you wished he would just touch you and skip all the banter but peter liked banter so you would have to endure it for now.
“Starting to think you’re doing all these bad things just to get my attention,” Peter said, placing his hands on his hips and tsk’d. You were, which maybe you playfully roll your eyes.
“Maybe i am” you whispered and peter got closer and between your legs.
“You know maybe if you stopped being bad and stopped doing this we could get dinner sometime,” he said, his hand coming to the inside of your thigh. You laughed now.
“What would people do without the news of you saving the day every time i do something bad?” you teased. fake pouting and giving him some major puppy dog eyes.
He laughed and nodded slightly. “I think i know what you want” he whispered.
“Im pretty sure you’re correct too,” you said. Peters's hands when to the seam in your suit that was along your cunt, ripping apart the fabric which you could worry about later. His finger rubbed up and down your slit over your panties.
Your breathing hitched as he touched you, from his rubbing and your wetness there formed a visible wet spot.
“Are the webs too tight?” peter asked, his tone serious and he didn't even look up at you.
“No” you panted. This time he looked up at you.
“You sure? promise?” he asked. He was rubbing on your clit in cute little circles.
“Promise,” you said. He moved your panties to the side, the cool air hitting you made you clench and it made peter laugh. His middle finger stopped at your entrance, pushing in with ease. He rubbed your clit with his thumb.
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tag: @bunnyweasley23 @b-aobao
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