#the amazing spider-man 3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

asm5129 · 1 year

Text

Okay then

My first edition of Flash thoughts. Here we go.

Extremely strong premiere I thought. Took us back to basics a bit while setting up the threads to come in the season.

First of all, really well balanced! None of the characters felt like they got the short end of the stick, which has definitely been an issue at times in recent seasons (I don’t agree with the THE FLASH ISN’T EVEN ABOUT THE FLASH ANYMORE whiners though. Maybe I’ll give my thoughts about that in the future.)

Last season finally really got me on board with Barry and Iris quite frankly no other season of the flash did (I was a Snowbarry shipper basically until last season, but I also knew that wasn’t going to happen and made my peace with that.) Great to see that’s still going strong, I’m really happy about the fact that I feel like they aren’t together just because the comics say they are together and because everyone says they have feelings for each other and are perfect together—which is how I often felt in the past. Really nice to be able to just…enjoy these two together. I’m genuinely happy about it.

On that front, I think the time loop concept—as somewhat tired as it is—was used very well to help us settle into what’s going on with all our characters right now. (Well, almost all of them—we’ll get to one unique character in this regard later)

Barry’s core fatal flaws have always been his impulsiveness and his obsessiveness. While his compassion and heart are strengths, coupled with those flaws they can take him in very negative directions—as we saw with the mapbook. Honestly? Really interesting idea. I totally buy that after everything Barry’s been through in the last nine years, he just wants a happily ever after—even if it’s stagnant, even if it’s predetermined. But Iris, Joe and Cecile were right.

That said, you can see how running from crisis to crisis for 9 years has affected several of our main characters, not just Barry—specifically, Joe is exhausted, and looks like he might be looking to retire. He’s clearly concerned about Cecile getting into the thick of it, and from what he said it also looks like maybe he wants everyone else to retire with him? We’ll see.

Barry’s experience as the flash shines through in a big way in this episode, and it’s great to see. He really knows what he’s doing now. I mean, phasing a nuclear explosion through the entirety of central city and its population?!? Hell yeah. That’s such a cool use of his powers.

On the villain front, we didn’t get much time with this new Captain Boomerang, but I liked what we got. I like the performance, and I like the insecurity at his core. We know the Rogues are gonna play a big role this season, so we’re starting strong there.

I’m kinda over the vibrating speedster voice deepening thing tbh, so I’m looking forward to when Red Death is just being performed by Javicia Leslie as that is what will make Red Death great. Really looking forward to seeing her in the Arrowverse one last time (😭). Anyways I’ll make my judgment then. (And no, I don’t think Oliver would have been a “better pick” for Red Death because A. he was never just a bargain bin Batman despite what people say—I’m sure I’ll talk about that at some point to—so slotting him in for Bruce would be just as egregious as the League of Assassins crap on season 3 and B. We don’t know the story they want to tell. They chose Ryan. They have a reason. Let them tell their story before you judge them for not telling a different one.)

And finally, that ending. Not Caitlin, not Frost. Interestingly, this was what was teased at the end of season 3, but was disregarded in favor of the Caitlin/Frost as sisters stuff—which I know is controversial, but I’ve grown to appreciate it. At some point you have to accept the decisions writers make, because you can’t force them to have made a different one.

So I’m really intrigued to see what happens here. I mean, who is this woman? Is she a combination of Frost and Caitlin? Or someone who comes from them but is completely new? Clearly that’s what the next episode will be about. And I’m excited. I’ll miss Caitlin in particular quite a bit, but I’m glad the always wonderful Danielle Panabaker is getting some good new material to work with. I’m a little mixed on the design at this point—the blue and brown hair is a little off-putting—but presumably she is a women in transition so-to-speak, so we’ll see what she ends up looking like. Or if this is just who she is, I’ll get used to it.

Overall, this episode filled me with a lot of faith that the strengths of the previous season aren’t going to go away. I think this is gonna be a great last run. And no, I don’t think this show plans to wrap up all the other shows—I think the Legends, Nia, Ryan and the other guest stars are going to be there just so we can have a chance to say goodbye. And that’s probably the right call, even in a 23 episode season there probably wouldn’t be enough time to wrap up everything from all the shows that were cancelled on top of everything that needs wrapping up on The Flash.

So yeah. Excited for what comes next. Bring it on!

0 notes

katmylittlesunshine · 2 years

Text

He's back for a revenge

I hope we'll have a #TASM3 🤍

#the amazing spider man #andrew garfield #the amazing Spider-Man 3 #TASM3

1 note · View note

new-romantic-sailors · 3 months

Text

chloe cosplaying gwen stacy from the amazing spider-man 2 as her default outfit

#the 3/4 length sleeves as well 😭🐝#miraculous ladybug #chloe bourgeois #the amazing spider-man 2 #the fact that ladybug is basically just genderbent spiderman as well...... chloenette canon fr #my posts

563 notes · View notes

asterias-record-shop · 1 year

Note

♫ 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡… TASM!Peter Parker with the bingo prompt ‘himbo’?

alright, so the thing is I feel like peter is really book smart but he is so oblivious otherwise, like if someone flirts with him it goes completely over his head. so reader has been his best friend for years and recently has been trying to drop hints that she likes him, and eventually she gets fed up of him being so oblivious that she just kisses him and he gets all whiney and then they do the devils tango (i am so sorry i’m really awkward when requesting 😭) but could there also be a size and praise kink, as well as an oral fixation? (if you don’t feel comfy pls delete this!!)

i hope u have a good day/night 💕

—𓆩[my beautiful idiot]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

nvm anon honey i couldn't sleep without posting this, i hope you enjoy it!!!

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - TASM! Peter Parker x Best Friend! Fem! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 4.7K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - You and Peter have been best friends for what seemed like eternity, and has been in love with you for what seemed like forever, but he’s not going to give up — no matter how much it seems like you don’t like him back. The kid you babysit though that is way too old to be babysat disagrees though, and tries to show him how much you were in love with him too.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - crossover time|| heavily inspired by this interview/edit with Will Poulter (love him so much) || cursing & foul language || mentions of violence || Peter gets hurt || whiny Peter is best Peter || smut warnings include oral, fingering, multiple orgasms, riding, praise, size kink, breeding kink, oral fixation, possessiveness, marking kink, biting, hickies, possibly more?

Miles was a helpless bystander between the two of you. It never worked out, not whenever Peter was too stupidly in love with you he never saw the hints that you dropped.

“Peter, I’m telling you, she’s in love with you!” Miles wanted to strangle the other Spider-Man, very very violently.

“I don’t… I don’t think she is,” Peter mumbles, a pout on his lips as he swirled pasta around his fork, one that you often made because it was his favorite. Was that not hint enough? You knew his favorite fucking pasta! “I don’t think I’m her type.”

“Who’s type?” You walked into the living room, plate in hand full of the cream based pasta you made on the side.

“Yours! Your type!” Miles grins. “Your type.”

“My type?” You hummed, thinking as you tap your chin. “My type… would be smart. Handsome, funny. Nerdy,” you look over at Peter who was still pouting. “Loves pasta.”

Miles slurps up some of the noodles, nodding. “I wonder who that could be!”

“Yeah, I wonder,” Peter mumbles, face falling as he scooped pasta into his mouth. “I wonder.”

“Really? In this room?!” Miles yells, moving his hands to gesture around the apartment. “I wonder?!”

Peter looked around, eyes narrowing. “You like Miles?”

How the fuck could he be so stupid?

“That’s it! I’m done!” Miles stood, looking at you. “He’s hopeless! Completely and utterly hopeless!”

You sigh, standing up too. “I could’ve told you that.”

You go around the couch, taking Peter’s finished plate of food as his face scrunches. “Who’s hopeless?”

“Oh baby,” you leaned down, pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek. He didn’t think much of it, you did kiss him on the cheek often. “You are. You’re such a himbo.”

“A what? What’s a himbo?”

“It’s like… a beautiful idiot,” you press another kiss to his cheek, pulling back his chestnut hair from his face. “You’re my beautiful idiot.”

He pours as you walk away, Miles shouting out a goodbye as you finish your food and start cleaning up the dishes.

He didn’t want to be your ‘beautiful idiot’ — he wanted to be yours, overall and absolutely, he wanted to tick every box you ever wanted, he wanted to be yours. If he could, he’d want you to mark him as yours for forever and eternity, he just wanted you. He wanted a mark on him that said you owned him, just like you owned his heart for what seemed like forever.

“Peter? Don’t you have to go on patrol?” You yell out, snapping Peter out of his thoughts.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m going!�� He goes into your room because he basically lived with you at this point, grabbing his suit and getting dressed with the door open.

“Peter?” You’re standing at the doorway, arms crossed as he stumbled into his suit, trying his best not to fall on his face. “Miles’ parents invited us over for dinner. I told them yes, you promise not to be late?”

“Yeah, I promise,” he grunted breathlessly as he quickly finished putting on his suit, looking around. “Where’s my mask?”

“Peter,” you say again, more stern this time as you walk over, bending down to pick up something from the ground. He froze when you stood in front of him, fixing his suit before handing him the mask. “Promise me you won’t be late.”

He smiled down at you, wide and his honey brown eyes shining. “I promise. Do I dress nice or casual?”

“Nicer than casual,” you say with a sigh, your hands rubbing against his chest to flatten out the suit, thinking about the fact he wore nothing underneath it. “I’m going to go over there early to help Rio cook, but I need you there by seven. Did you hear that? By seven. Dinner starts at seven-thirty, but I need you there by seven.”

He smiled, leaning down teasingly. “Yes ma’am. Whatever you say, I’ll be there by seven.”

You sigh, a smile on your face as you pat his chest. “Be safe, and take care of Miles if he tags along, okay?”

“I will.”

You both stay there for a few seconds, his eyes staring at your lips as you worriedly push your hands through his hair. You did it often, so much so that it became something you didn’t have to think about doing, or it was something you did when you were nervous.

What you both did were couple things, why weren’t you together? It was because Peter was too much of a beautiful idiot to know otherwise.

“Promise me you’ll be safe, and protect Miles if he goes. Don’t eat on your patrol, Rio is making the best food ever. And you have to be there by seven.”

“I promise,” he pushed your hair back behind your ear, leaning down to press a firm kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you at seven.”

“By seven!” You yell as he jumps out the window, sighing with a smile. “I swear, if you weren’t hot I would’ve stopped trying by now.”

It was seven-ten. Seven-fucking-ten. You helped Rio make arroz con gandules while she took care of the main course - chicken con sofrito - and she had also tasked you in making a grilled salsa. You were smashing it inside of the molcajete, the grinding and the scratching making Miles and his father wince.

“Y/N, honey do you want me to uhm… take over… that?” Jefferson asks as he comes closer to you.

“Nope,” you say as Rio dipped her fingers into the salsa and coughing. “Oh no, is it bad?”

“N-No,” she cleared her throat, coughing. “Just spicy, very spicy. Are you mad, honey?”

“You have no fucking clue,” you basically growled as Miles and Jefferson slowly stepped back.

“You have any clue where this kid is?” Jefferson whispers to Miles, looking over. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to eat that salsa.”

“I-I’ll find him,” Miles says, nodding. “Just… distract them.”

First, he checked your apartment. He looked around, searching for anything that would show Peter was home, and when he found nothing — it was to the streets he went. He changed quickly, already swinging out the window to find the beautiful idiot. It didn’t take him long, quickly going to their favorite spot and finding him lounging, snoring extremely loudly.

“Peter! Peter, what the hell are you doing?!” Miles slapped Peter through the mask, gasping when he saw the gashes and lacerations all over his body. “Holy shit, Peter!”

He snapped up, gasping as he looked around. “What time is it?”

“Like seven-thirty already dude!” He quickly looks around. “What happened?!”

“I was helping a bank robbery, got dammit, Y/N is going to kill me!” He tries to stand, groaning loudly as he holds his side.

“Stop moving! Stop! Y/N taught me how to stitch people up, just lay down!” Miles ordered the older Spider-Man, forcing him to lay back as he grabbed the medical supplies.

“There’s no point, they’ll heal soon enough, I need to get home. Y/N is going to kill me!” He quickly stood, the gashes already getting smaller and less deep. “Let’s go!”

Miles groans. “Am I the babysitter or you?!”

He swung after him, Peter quickly swinging into your room and looking through the dresser that held his clothes. “Oh, come on! Y/N moved my clothes around.”

“Y/N does your laundry?” Miles asks, groaning. “Do you not how in love with you she is?!”

“We switch on laundry duty! It was her weekend so I cooked,” he grabbed a button down, groaning. “Thank fuck she washed my favorite.”

He grabs some new underwear from the drawer, smiles face palming as he rushes to the restroom to get changed. “You're going to bleed through that!”

“No I’m not!” He yelled back, walking out in his new clothes. “I covered the stuff with gauzes.”

“Okay, go upstairs, I’m going to swing up to my room and change, alright?”

He nodded. “Right.”

They both went to Miles’ apartment in different ways, Peter knocking on the door and when it swung open, he smiled at you. You gasped when you saw his gashed face, quickly reaching up. “What happened?!”

“Bank robbery, I passed out on top of a building. So sorry I’m late.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, his hands settling on your waist. “Dinner going well?”

“I-I made a salsa, are you okay?” Your hands quickly cup his face, twisting and turning as you sigh. “Rio’s going to freak! God fuck, Peter!”

He laughed. “You have no reason to worry, honey. I’ll just say I… ran into a tree.”

“A tree?!”

“Look at that! Peter’s here!” Miles yelled, running forward. “Let’s eat!”

When everyone sat down at the dinner table, it was obvious something was a little off. “I uhm… how is work, Y/N?”

You clear your throat, nodding at Rio’s question. “It’s going really well! I’m really happy there.”

“Peter, you moved in with Y/N already?” Jefferson asked, scooping food into his mouth. “It’s about time.”

“What do you mean?” Peter paused his actions of stuffing his face, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“Well… you both are dating, right?” Rio asked, looking over at Miles. “Mijo always told us you were…”

“No, we’re not,” you say, a sad smile on your face. “But Peter does basically live with me! He does my laundry, cooks, you know, normal stuff.”

“Normal… couple stuff,” Rio filled in. “You pay rent too?”

“I-I tried, but Y/N didn’t let me,” Peter says softly, shrugging. “She said that she didn’t need my help with it.”

It goes quiet for a minute before Miles laughs awkwardly. “Hey, guys! I passed my biology test!”

You smiled when Miles saved you both from the awkward moment, cheering as everyone continued to talk about how they knew Miles was going to pass. Peter wasn’t that into the conversation, he was extremely preoccupied.

You both did do a lot of couple stuff.

For fucks sake, you both even slept with each other. Why weren’t you both dating, why?

When dinner was done and a few drinks were put in after Rio forced Miles to go to bed, you both went back up to your shared apartment. You giggled as you opened the door, smiling back at him. “Do you want to watch a movie or go straight to sleep, what do you want to do?”

“Can I talk to you, Y/N?” He slowly takes your hand, pulling you toward your room.

You giggled, shrugging. “Well, straight to sleep it is then.”

He sat on the bed, parting his legs and pulling you between them making you giggle. “Everything okay?” You whisper, pushing his hair back as you leaned down to press your forehead to his. “I know something’s not. What’s up?”

“Why did you say we’re not dating?” He pouts up at you, a giggle falling from your lips. “Hey, it’s not funny! We… we do things that couples do, why aren’t we a couple? I know… I know you might not-”

“For fucks sake Peter, shut up.”

He gasped as you pulled his face up, your lips pressing to his as your nails softly press into his skin, soft but firm all at once. He groaned loudly, his hands pulling you closer before you pulled away, a whine falling from his lips. “What’re you doing?”

His words were almost slurred together even though the alcohol he drank had little to no effect on him. It makes you laugh as he leaned up, pressing more kisses to your lips before he pulled your body solidly against his own, fixing your position so that you sat on his lap and your hands were around his neck. “What baby, you don’t want me to stop kissing you?”

He hummed, shaking his head. “No, you can’t… ‘s unfair.”

You started to laugh even harder as he basically whined, trying to pull you down for more kisses. You hummed as he started to lay back, hands pushing through his hair. “I need you… I need you, Y/N.”

You rose a brow, rolling your hips into his. “Need? Need’s a big word, baby,” you respond, smiling down at him as he groaned into your neck. He shifts you both so that you were laying on your back, leaning down to keep kissing your lips.

He was addicted, now that he had one taste, he never wanted to stop. His tongue pushed into your mouth, desperately swirling his own around yours as you groaned into his mouth, the minute he pulled away was when you swallowed the mixed saliva gathered at the back of your throat. You hummed as he leaned down, his lips pressing to your for a quick kiss, going over and over again with small breaks in between.

“Peter,” you giggled, his mere hum the only proof he was listening. “Are you just going to kiss me or are you going to get a little adventurous?”

He pauses, tilting his head. “Adventurous?”

You laughed. “Fuck, my beautiful idiot,” you pulled him down for another kiss, your teeth grazing his deliciously making him groan before you pulled away. “You can put that mouth to better use somewhere else.”

He paused, his mind taking a minute to process. “Oh. Oh, yeah!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he quickly pressed one last kiss to your lips before letting his lips slowly, slowly trail down your body while slipping off your clothes, his nimble fingers leaving a trail of fire on your now bare body. He paused as he stared down at you, his eyes dark and pupils blown as he inhaled.

“So fucking beautiful.”

His words make you groan, hands pushing your thighs apart as his head slowly pushes between them, his mouth already hot on your cunt. Your eyes rolled back, his tongue already exploring your wetness and his fingers pushing into your slit, smearing all of it up and down before settling it on your clit.

He wasted no time, groaning as your hands thread through his hair, holding onto his brown curls like the were handles and your thighs settling on his shoulders. He paused though, pulling away making you whine softly, head tilted again. “This is okay, right? I should’ve asked.”

Fuck, why was he so fucking adorable? “Yes honey, this is okay. More than okay.”

He smiled widely, biting his lip. “Good, because your cunt tastes even better than your mouth.”

You gasped as he pushed his face between your legs again, his lips latching on your clit as he pushed a finger inside of you. Your back arches, eyes widening before they roll back into your head, his finger pushing and pumping trying to find the right rhythm, teasing you. He gasps as you tug on his hair, pushing your hips up into his mouth as he groans against your clit, the vibrations making you shiver.

“F-Fuck, Peter.”

He hummed, enjoying the feeling of your cunt clamping down on his finger, curling it inside of you to feel your body writhe underneath his touch. His eyes roll back as a shiver runs down his back, groaning into your clit that he never let his mouth off of for too long, only shifting his head to get into a new angle. You tasted so fucking good, your swollen clit evidence of his torment, but there was something else. Something he couldn’t describe, he could feel you, all of you.

He could feel every clench of your walls, every shiver that ran up your back. He could hear every stutter of your breath, the skip of your heartbeat, every soft whimper you tried to hide as that one finger continues to find every pleasure spot that not even you knew existed. He could taste you with every lick, every suck of his mouth, his teeth even grazing your sensitive skin if he got too focused.

He finally pulls away from your clit, a thick string of saliva attaching your swollen bud of muscles to his lips, your hips bucking as he stares at your greedy cunt trying to suck his fingers back in every time he pulls out. He groans loudly as the shiver running down his back gets stronger, and the twisting of your stomach turns tight, your thighs shaking as your hips rut into his fingers until his mouth joins the actions of sucking on your entrance as another finger attempts to push into your pussy.

You gasped as your hips bucked without warning, your spongy walls enveloping both of his digits, and your mind blurring from how hard the orgasm hits you. Peter doesn’t even stop though, groans falling from his lips as he pulls out his fingers making you whine, your attempts to ride your hips into them failing. His tongue pushes into you though, a gasp leaving your lips as you automatically tighten your thighs around his head, not that he was complaining.

He could be like this for hours, his tongue pushing into you as his thumb rubbed circles into your overly-sensitive and swollen clit, hard but focused and his fingers pushed back into you. His tongue never stopped moving though, flicking and lapping, his mouth sucking and popping sensually against your pussy, groans that sent vibrations from your pussy straight to the growing knot in your stomach making you whine.

You had just cum, but it wasn’t like he had probably even cared about what it would do to your body, how sensitive it would make your body to every movement he made. His mouth sucked on the opening of your cunt, opening his mouth wide to push his tongue into you as your hips buck into his mouth. Your fingers tug on his hair, whimpering as he rolled your clit between his thumb and pointer with his other hand, his tongue thrusting into you as far as he could, an ache forming in his jaw as he tried to get his mouth anywhere and everywhere on your body.

He could feel the sparking along his spine again, your stomach clenching all over again as his fingers rubbed against that sensitive spot inside of you. His fingers twist, curling inside of you as he tries to push another finger into you, the stretch making you scream out as a shiver runs down his spine, a shaky groan leaving his lips as he swallows everything leaking out of your cunt.

He wanted more. He wanted to taste everything coming from your cunt, everything you had, just everything. He didn’t want to stop, his third digit pushing into you and the squelching filled his ears, his breathing heavy and panting into your cunt. His thumb continues its torment on your clit, rubbing and the shocks running through your body as your thighs shake and fingers shakily scratch against his scalp.

Your body was coated in sweat, stomach tight as his fingers edged you onto the climax of another orgasm, they always came quick after the first. Your body was sensitive all from him, your nipples hard and pebbled from the cold air of your room, bottom lip bitten raw from trying to hold back your moans before he squeezed at your clit - the only thing he needed to do to get you to start moaning out for him.

He loved the sounds you made, getting drunk off of your moans and whines combined with the taste of your arousal and your cunt making his dick hard and his senses overflow. He pushed his three fingers into you as deep as he could, all the way to his knuckles to watch your cunt convulse and feel those same sparks on his spine.

“Peter! Peter wait, Peter- fuck!”

Your third orgasm brought you to tears, vision going black as you squeezed your thighs together, hands gripping his chestnut curls as you tried to steady your breathing. He hummed into your cunt, softly patting your clit making you yelp in surprise, parting your legs to watch as he slowly pulled away. “Are you alright?”

You stared at him, almost dumbfounded. “Y-You… you just ate me out and made me cum three times and you’re asking if I’m alright?”

His brows furrowed as he leaned up, wiping his mouth before licking the back of his hand where all your juices went and kissing under your eyes. He was careful not to get too close to your actual eyes, just in case, only kissing where tears fell. “You’re crying. I don’t like it when you cry.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck after he slowly pulled off his shirt and tugged his pants down to his ankles before kicking them off. “I’m crying out of pleasure. You make me feel so good, Peter.”

He smiled widely down at you, leaning lower to press another kiss to your lips. “Well, I want to make you feel better. Especially with how good you’re making me feel, princess, you make me feel so good. Make me so happy.”

“W-Wait!” Your voice was loud, surprising him as he stared up at you in confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“I-I… I want to ride you. Please?”

He pauses, but nods with a smile. “Alright. But you can’t be gentle. Don’t be gentle. I want it all.”

You nodded, laughing loudly as he twisted you both over, helping you steady yourself over his aching cock. It was long, thick and veiny, tip red and leaking precum in desperation as he whined, bucking his hips. You giggled, slowly wrapping your hand around his before he nodded and watched as you slowly sunk down.

You gasped, nodding as he slowly pushed into you, his head tilting back and his mouth falling open. Your eyes rolled back into your head, vision blurring as his girth stretched you out even more, every time you thought he bottomed out the more he kept pushing. You whined loudly, hands pushing against his chest as he groaned loudly, eyes wide as he tried to catch his breath.

His body was sheening with sweat, a smile blooming on his face as you dug your nails into his chest, scratching against his skin as you tried to compose himself. This is what he wanted when he wanted you to claim him, he wanted your nails to scratch on his body, your mouth to leave hickies and bite marks, he wanted to be yours.

He watched as you slowly started to bounce on his cock, his eyes staring at your bouncing tits before letting them wander down your body, staring at the bulge on your lower stomach. He hissed loudly as you got harder, fixing your position as your clit rubbed against his pelvis, eyes rolling back.

Your cunt felt just as good wrapped around his cock as it did wrapped around his tongue and fingers, every movement had it squelching and convulsing around his shaft, loud groans falling from his lips as his large hands settled on your hips, thumbs settling on that giant bulge on your stomach.

He watched your mouth fall open as you screamed out, fixing both of your positions to buck his hips up into you and watch your boys fall forward. He kept your body against his, flipping you both over to wrap his arm around your body and press his face into your neck, groaning loudly into your skin as your nails dragged against his back.

He thrusted as hard as he could, desperate to find his climax as your body bounced with this thrusts, loud moans leaving your lips with each thrust and his name falling from your lips over and over. “Yes baby, you’re doing so good. Your cunt is so fucking good baby, I love the way you feel around my dick,” he groans, gasping as your mouth pressed to his skin. “Fuck, fuck yes princess, I want to be covered in you. Want your hickies and your kisses, your scratches and your bites, I don’t care, I want to be covered in you.”

You obviously didn’t expect him to be so into marking, but of course, you weren’t going to say no. You sucked bright purple marks on his skin, digging your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your screams as the bed slammed into the wall, the squelching of your cunt and the slaps of skin against skin echoing against the wall was enough chorus of your sex.

You could feel his dick driving into the deepest parts of you, stretching your cunt so that if you looked down you could see the bulge that just seemed to be getting bigger and bigger. Your eyes rolled back as his fingers rubbed against your clit, whispers of praise falling from his tongue as those same sparks ran up his spine, his stupid little mind finally connecting the dots. “Are you about to cum? Are you about to cum baby?”

You nodded your head into his marked up neck, your tongue slowly licking against the bite mark on his neck as you whined into his neck. “Fuck, fuck Peter! Fuck, I can’t, I can’t!”

“Yes you can baby, you can,” he whispers, pulling away to hold your chin. “Look at me fucking you baby, don’t you want me to keep fucking you? I’ll make you feel better than you make me feel, I’ll fuck you so good. I’ll pump all my cum inside of you and you’ll be such a perfect girl for me and take all of it, right?”

Your eyes rolled back, mouth lulling open as you nodded mindlessly. “Yes! Yes, I will, I’ll take all of it!”

“Fuck, fuck Y/N, you don’t know how much I’ve wanted to cum inside of you, fill you up and watch all of my cum make your stomach bulge,” his voice gets huskier, almost like a growl as his thrusts get rougher, messier. “Fucking hell!”

You screamed this time, watching as he completely pulled out of you just to slam back in, your mind blurring as he continued to pull out and slam back in. You could feel your thighs shaking, that knot in your stomach threatening to break. “Peter, Peter! I’m going to cum, I need to cum!”

“No!” He whined, shaking his head as he started to get faster, his hips rough as his hands held your sides, eyes rolling back. “I’m gonna cum, cum with me. Please honey, I want to feel you, I need it.”

A final scream falls from your lips as he bottoms out, eyes rolling back and body shaking as your fourth orgasm absolutely blurred your mind, endless babbles leaving your lips as he panted above you. He stared down at your stomach, the bulge that shouldn’t have been able to get bigger successfully larger. “Fuck honey, look at what I did to your pretty tummy.”

You did, your mind still slightly hazy, but your mouth fell open when you saw the bulge and a whine fell from your lips. “Y-You’re still hard.”

He smiled. “It’s from the spider bite.”

omg, I love fulfilling requests ♡ keep them coming for Bingo!!

Bingo tag 𓆩[@ennycutie]𓆪 𓆩[@yoongiwife23]𓆪 𓆩[@urlocalbum12-blog]𓆪

Regular taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪 𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪 𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪 𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪 𓆩[@xyzstar]𓆪 𓆩[@just-my-shit]𓆪 𓆩[@your-mom21]𓆪 𓆩[@c78r]𓆪 𓆩[@dizscreams]𓆪 𓆩[@asrt5]𓆪

2K notes · View notes

andrew3garfield · 9 months

Text

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANDREW GARFIELD <3

— August 20, 1983 🎂

I realized that after finding this thing that allowed me to express myself - acting - and being encouraged by a few people that I could do it, I had kind of grabbed onto it and dug in my claws in a way that was maybe a bit unhealthy. I allowed myself to get into a headspace where I lived or died by what I achieved in this particular field.

#i thought the 20th was next week😫 i panicked severely in the past hours but here it is. something at least<3 #for the best 🥺🥺🥺🥺💓#andrew garfield #andrewgarfieldedit #andrewgarfieldgifs #the amazing spider-man #peter parker #under the silver lake #under the banner of heaven #the social network #cinema #actors #useranna3 #🫀

790 notes · View notes

lifeonmvrs · 10 months

Text

quick thing i made while at a restaurant (i was waiting for my food). matt has no beard bc it looked weird.

[Image Description: digital drawing of deadpool, daredevil, and spider-man. they are floating heads in a white background. their suits are pink. deadpool has an excited expression. matt looks a bit annoyed and is saying “three tickets to barbie, please”. spider-man has a neutral expression. /end ID]

434 notes · View notes

literaila · 5 months

Note

PETER PARKER ANGST????❤️🫡🛬🤭😍🗣🙀🫡😀🫡🫶😀😟🫶😟❤️ (if you dont write it ill sob violently on the floor ☹️)

we could call it even

tasm!peter x fem!reader

summary:

"peter parker," she says, "you're like a legend around here."

warnings: unspecified angst, series, no fluff, no explanation

a/n: might i introduce a playlist entitled stupid boy which i listened to while writing this (and the other parts????)

there's a specific time of night that is appropriate to go to the market.

or inappropriate, depending on how old you are.

if you're in your sixties and sometimes feel like your joints are just notches that need to be oiled, midnight probably isn't your designed time for grocery shopping. seven in the morning is typically the best time for swollen lungs and--literal--broken hearts.

but if you're you, exhausted from running around all day, unpleasant from all of the people you've talked to, and trying to avoid anyone (everyone) you might know--and secrets you don't feel like sharing--then midnight is a perfect time. and perfectly normal, thank you very much.

you're not even sure why meyer's is open this late. there's no way the owner, jerry, is staying up until midnight to check out the lowlifes or drunk teenagers stopping by, and you know that these aren't prime business hours--evident by the crickets you can hear behind the 'fresh produce' section. maybe he forgets that it's open, and that susan--the only person willing to work here--is still on the clock. or maybe he's just taking pity on you. you don’t think he’s ever there, but maybe he hides around corners, noting the new lines on your face so he can report it back to every person in town. gossip is like a disease, and you’re never alone in a place like this. never quite at peace.

you look around the next shelf for jerry, or a gust of wind that follows him running away. there’s only silence. the echoes of your footsteps.

it doesn't matter why meyer’s is open. you're thankful for this time alone. or at least by yourself.

it's a welcome change to have no one judge you for your selection of deli cheese and baked goods. or the three containers of instant coffee you've hidden underneath it all. just out of habit.

tuesday nights are yours, and the market is your chosen domain.

usually, that is. usually, you're all alone. usually, you can run around on the carts and pick up anything you accidentally knock over. you can spill an entire bottle of wine on the floor and no one will blink an eye. jerry wouldn’t even be able to hear it from three feet away.

but tonight--on this tuesday when your feet hurt a little bit more than necessary, and your eyes are twitching at all of the lights--apparently you're not alone.

which you wished you would have realized before you started humming 'single ladies' a bit too loudly.

you wished you would have skipped shopping at all, really, as soon as you see his face.

his wide eyes--surprised and silvered by age, much like yours--and his open mouth.

in a different world, you would be shocked--shocked instead of scared--and you might run to him. you might ask him why he didn't tell you he was coming? what is he doing here? in a different world, you two would be the only people in the market and it would be fine.

it might even be great.

this subtle shift in autonomy wouldn’t hurt the peace you’re looking for on this tuesday night.

there wouldn't be this obvious horror story standing between the two of you, this looming presence. the history of a thousand lies, bruise after bruise, and scars so red that they could burn through the ground. glass shattered around your feet.

the lights might as well start flickering. you should probably call out "hello?" even though he's right in front of you, and if he was going to murder you, he probably wouldn't answer. a door should creak.

you should probably go.

you should probably run away before he can take a step closer. you don't look a threat in the eye and smile at it. you don't feed a stray cat.

it always comes back.

why is he here?

you take a step away. as soon as you notice him--behind, between, all over you--silence ensues. you might as well be at a loss for words. you don't have much to say to him.

not to that look in his eyes, or his receding hairline, or that peak on his mouth.

because peter would be here. at this time. and he would be trying to hide a smile, a smirk, when he's not even supposed to be within a five-hundred-foot vicinity of you.

actually, maybe you forgot to mail that restraining order.

but the words come out anyway because your body has always betrayed you when it comes to him.

"peter?" you blurt out, and just saying the word stirs the simmering feeling inside of you. just saying his name is enough of a warning.

"hey," he whispers and takes a step closer. you step back. he leans away like he knows his proximity is toxic. "sorry, i didn't mean to scare you."

i didn't mean to.

and yet.

you breathe and forget how to blink. he might disappear. "peter," you repeat, as a form of masochism. you don't breathe at all.

"sorry," he says, again. he doesn't say what for. there could be a million things.

"um," you choke out, looking around--away from him and his manipulative eyes. "what?" you laugh to yourself, hand running over your face. you roll your eyes back into your head and laugh again. you shake your head.

you look at peter, at his furrowed brow and inward stance, and you snort. look away from him before it's too late.

you're laughing like something is funny. it's not.

it's really not.

"are you..." peter is swallowing. you'd like to pretend that his voice is hollow and cold, much like that cave inside your chest, but it's not. you recognize that concern, that softness in his voice that used to be just yours. "are you okay?"

you almost giggle at him. it comes out as more of a cough.

you wonder if you look like a ghost. some remanent of who you used to be--the person that only peter used to know.

"peter," you sigh, and step away from your cart. into the shelf you've been backing yourself into.

you step away from him, still shaking your head.

"i've got to--" you trip as you turn around and say to mostly yourself, "i've got to go."

groceries, and peter, be damned, you think, as you walk out of the building and prepare yourself to never ever come back.

it wouldn't be the first time.

you are having your daily debate with mrs. brooke about the amount of calories in each pastry, in which you tell her that you only measure the amount of pleasure someone might get out of each one—which earns you a lovely sneer—and that she should try the blueberry scone.

she always rolls her eyes at you, says something about watching her weight even though she’s looked the same since you were five years old and sneaking through her yard to catch the neighborhood cat. and then she leaves with a breakfast sandwich.

it’s actually one of the most enjoyable parts of your day.

here’s the thing about knowing every single person that comes into the shop: you know exactly what they’re going to order, and you know what type of conversation you’re going to have with them.

mrs. brooke always stresses about her breakfast, her smile a tense sort of pleasant, but by the time she leaves her head is held a little higher. if she chooses the sandwich instead of the scone, then she’s started her day off right. you used to feel exasperated by her indecisive nature, but now you find it kind of adorable.

mr. meyer—jerry—just comes in so he can complain about the surplus of options on your menu. he wants a black coffee, and he wants to complain. you always smile at him and ask if he’s sure he doesn’t want to try the raspberry green tea. he finds this less than humorous.

every kid wants some kind of hot chocolate—which you actually have an excessive amount of—and no matter what their parents say, you sneak some extra marshmallows in. and everyone pretends otherwise.

susan—your kindergarten teacher, now friend—asks if you’ve met anyone special lately. it doesn’t matter that the selection of single people your age is always the same. there’s got to be someone special, she says to you and leaves with a cider she tells everyone is a latte.

there are the people who want their lattes and mochas, those who want some alternative milk that they complain about—even though you’ve tried every brand on earth—there are the people who don’t ever buy anything, and just come in to pretend they want something and talk to you. they gossip about the other people in town as if you aren’t well aware of everything that goes on.

you roll your eyes, but you appreciate the company. things get pretty boring when you can guess everyone’s schedule.

but you like your tiny tea shop. you like the consistency. you enjoy the smiles you throw out, and the complaints you receive. it’s a routine, and nothing goes wrong. you're in control of this one thing, and that's just how you like it.

in control, that is, of course, until you see him when mrs. brooke is walking away.

“oh!” she says, pausing, her drink shaking in hand, her pink fingernails a smudge against the shadow suddenly coming from right in front of you. she is just a foot too close to him. “is that peter parker?” she asks, saying his voice like an omen, turning around so she can set her cup and bag down, and then hugging him so hard you can see her muscles working beneath her sleeve.

“hey, mrs. brooke,” peter wheezes out, a strangled smile on his aged face. his same eyes.

he is just as surprised as you at her sudden outburst, the cooing noises she's making as she attempts to crumble him.

“look how handsome you’ve gotten! and so strong. what are those new yorkers doing with you?”

“definitely not trying to squeeze me to death.”

mrs. brooke laughs, somewhat vindictively, and she turns back around to look at you, with wide eyes. “did you know he was in town, dear? why didn’t you say anything? i almost had a heart attack.”

peter clears his throat before you can throw any type of face on. any mask. “it’s a surprise,” he mock whispers, and his eyes dash to yours, then away, just as quick. “don’t tell anyone.”

“it’s not like they’d believe me anyway,” she scoffs, “you’re a legend around here.”

“i’m honored.”

she laughs again, then grabs her cup. “oh,” she whispers, too loud. her eyes are tight, as if she’s intruded. “of course. i’ll leave and let you two talk.”

and within a blink of an eye, she is running out of the shop, faster than you’ve ever seen anyone escape from here.

and peter is there, standing in front of you. his face is smooth, calm, his eyes roaming over your face like he still has the privilege of knowing any of it.

and your heart might be racing, if it was still there.

"hi," he whispers. it is quiet enough for you to feel it in your chest. his voice and the memory of it.

does he sound different? has he really changed that much in the last two years? is his face a bit worn? are his eyes a different color?

but it doesn’t matter what rattles through your head—when you look at peter, you just see him. your peter.

except that he’s completely different.

you clear your throat, looking away and pushing off of the counter. “what can i get you?”

peter blinks. “oh, um…” he looks at the menu above your head, back to you. “what—“ he swallows. “what would you recommend?”

“it’s all good.” your voice is clipped. you should’ve said pure brewed black tea, no ice, no sweetener, no cup. just to get him out of here. you should've recommended the starbucks three towns over.

he swallows, again. a hand rakes through his hair. “i… just a sec.”

there is a single second where you grant him the patience you would give every other customer—smile politely and let them know to ask if they have any questions. a single second where you treat him like anybody else.

and then you say: “do you want a mocha, peter?” with an anger that shouldn’t—can’t—be contained inside of you.

you wince at his name. the singe of his brand on you, going down your throat.

peter seems to watch this on your face, because he’s even quieter when he answers, “sure, that’d be great.”

at least some things haven’t changed.

so you grab a cup, writing his name on it, and move to grab the milk.

you turn around and pretend like you’ve just forgotten he’s there.

peter doesn’t take this hint.

“so…” he says, his feet are loud as they tap on the ground. “you still work here, huh?”

you barely grunt a response, spilling chocolate in the cup recklessly. if peter dies of a clogged artery it won’t be your fault.

“that’s nice. felix always loved you. and you loved working here, back in highschool.” you have to face him as you steam the milk, and you try not to pointedly stare. not to roll your eyes or hiss at him. “it’s different though. the decor, i mean. but nice. i like it. did you do it?”

“yes.”

you grab his cup, pouring the milk and shoving the cap on it. “here,” your fingertips burn as you pass it to him, and you don’t think it’s because of the drink.

“thank you.”

you both stand there; peter blinks and doesn’t leave.

he coughs. “i didn’t pay.”

“mrs. brooke would kill me if i made you pay for your first drink back home.”

“well, she knows where you live,” his lip twitches, but he doesn’t laugh.

and neither do you.

“is it just you here?” he asks. “no felix?”

“he sold me the shop a year ago.”

his eyes widen. “oh. oh! that’s great. congrats.”

“thank you.”

you don’t move your eyes from his face, because it’s suddenly not fair that he’s here. that he’s allowed to intrude like this.

“it’s good to see you,” peter relents, a fake smile playing on his lips.

you falter. your heart turns in your chest, just so it doesn’t have to look at him anymore. “i’m working, okay?” you say, whispering. “i can't do this right now.”

“right. yeah.” peter trips on a step back. his eyes are scanning your face again. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t—“ he blows out a breath. “i’m sorry.”

you nod. watch the ground as he stumbles over it.

“i mean it though,” he adds, like he hadn’t thought about it. “it’s good to see you.”

and then peter swallows. you blink at him.

when he turns around the bell rings as he pushes it. and peter doesn’t look back.

he’s right about one thing, at least. it is nostalgic.

"when were you going to tell me?" your mom asks, leaning against her kitchen counter--the same one you scribbled on as a kid, smiley faces still apparent. she's doing that fake smile thing. the one that makes you want to storm off and slam the door like some mistreated teenager.

you don't, but both of you know that you think about it. for at least five seconds

"tell you what?" you ask, instead, setting the groceries you brought for her on the counter.

"about peter."

your eyes close. he would follow you around, wherever you go. he's probably hiding in some vent, smiling maliciously.

there's that teasing voice in your head saying small town, small small town, but you just turn around, ignoring it, and her, and raise a brow. "peter parker?" you repeat, rhetorically. "twenty-six, new york. brown hair, brown eyes. lived here his whole life, has an aunt who lives next door, tried to steal our cat when he was nine..." you drawl off, making a point to smile. "ringing any bells?"

she throws a dish towel at you. "you know thats not what i meant."

"do i?"

you wipe the counter with the towel, then fold it nicely on the counter, all the while avoiding your mother's eyes.

but you know she won't leave it alone. the same way she hasnt left you alone once in the past four years, like she can dig your feelings up from whatever grave you buried them in.

there's a part of you that wants to crawl over to her and ask her to make you some hot chocolate, to watch some childrens movie on the couch with you. you want to be the little kid who would've depended on that knowing glance she's still giving you. the little kid who idolized her and wasn't afraid to admit the truth--even if you did steal that chocolate bar from under her sink.

but you're grown, and this doesn't matter. not in the long run, anyway.

you look up, expectant eyes. she has your same eyes, and meets them.

"linda told nancy, who told jerry, who told me over the phone..." she shakes her head. "but may was here earlier."

"yeah? how is she?"

"good, busy, i'm guessing, because you know how she dotes over him."

"yeah..."

you fold the towel again, running your fingertips over the embrodered flowers.

"have you seen him?"

you swallow, and nod absentmindedly. you're not going to tell her about the grocery store. "yeah, he came into the shop yesterday."

she taps your hand, and you let go of the rag. she hangs it back over the oven, the ebbing silence more like a threat, her hands falling to her hips. "why didn't you say anything?"

"it's not a big deal. he came in, ordered, and then left."

"and there were no words between the two of you?" she prods. "no wandering eyes? you just read his mind instead of taking his order?"

you grit your teeth, rolling your eyes. "he asked for a mocha and i made it for him."

"nothing else?"

"he said it was nice to see me."

she waves a hand at you.

"and i said that i was working." you sigh, leaning against the counter. "that's all."

"you're not freaking out?" your mom ducks her head so she can meet your eyes. her face is sullen, but her smile is genuine.

it's like talking to a counselor.

"why would i be freaking out? he had to come back sometime."

she scoffs. the little necklace your dad gave her dangles from her neck, and you watch it. "i don't know," she says, using the same voice you do when she tells you not to take a tone with her. "maybe because you havent spoken to him in the last three years?"

yeah, the same voice says, rough and patronizing, you haven't spoken to him in five years. why is that, again?

but you snort at your mom, a defensive smile making its way to your lips as you look at her. "water under the bridge," you say, dismissing it.

you don't want to talk about this with her. you don't want to talk about this with anyone.

because the only person who might actually understand is the same person who left three years ago. who came back with no warning at all.

"did may say when he got here?" you ask, voice escaping before you can stop it.

"just a day or two ago, i think. why?"

"is he here for the holidays?"

"yes. she said he plans to stay until at least january. he's between jobs, i guess."

"oh." you smack your lips and move away from her, back to the groceries, which is the reason you're here in the first place. you take out the milk jug, walking to the fridge, but a soft hand stops you.

your mom is smiling when you turn towards her. "you don't have to talk about it," she's saying, her voice smooth and comforting. "i don't--i don't know what happened between the two of you. i just mentioned it because may said he was talking about you. it..." she drops off, wincing.

"what?"

"it might be good to talk to him. put the water under the bridge."

you roll your eyes, nose twitching. you don't need to say anything, you won't. your mother is just another town gossip, and her opinion has no sway over you.

even ask the words sink in.

"now put the rest of those away," she says, ruffling your hair, "i know what happens when you take your 'breaks.'"

you push her and put the milk in the fridge.

you're mopping the floor when the bell rings, and a cold brush of air trails goosebumps up your skin.

it's late enough in the season to no longer smell like the leaves falling onto the ground, or the grandesur pine needles showing off their lifespan. it's cold in the shop now, and you have three coats in the back.

but the person who walks in is only wearing one. one you recognize from several years ago, with the holes in the sleeves from when he jumped over your fence and sprained his ankle. the stain on the front when may threw a plum soaked rag at him and you'd laughed so hard that you'd fallen to your knees on the floor and couldn't breathe.

peter's face is wain. his eyes are cautious as they meet yours.

you're not used to anyone coming in at 5:55. everyone knows you close at six, and the few people who'd dared to come in and order a drink a minute before you flipped your sign have learned their lesson.

but peter hasn't learned anything.

"i know," he says, like tracking your mind. "you close at six. may told me."

"okay."

you're still holding the mop, sure that his footprints would leave mud all over your floors.

"i don't want to buy anything. or--" he breathes out, hands wringing at his sides, probably from the cold. "i will. if you want me to. but that's not why i came. i wanted to see if you..."

he does a sweep over you, and his words fall in the air, as if he's just realized something.

you look down at the snowflake apron your mom bought last year. it's not that dirty.

you look back up, brows furrowed, and peter's expression matches yours. "yes?" you prod, feeling that anger simmer in the core of your chest. but you've been rude enough to him.

your mom's words ring out in your head.

it might be good to talk to him.

peter swallows, whatever emotion on his face fading. "i wanted to see if you would go to dinner with me. or take a walk. or--or i'll buy you groceries, since you left yours the other night. it doesn't matter. i just want to... talk to you."

"you want to talk to me?"

peter nods. "i can wait outside, while you finish." he waves a hand, like an explanation. "it doesn't have to be long. just five minutes?"

you watch peter, his face a world of feeling that you can't recognize anymore.

and maybe that hurts the most. not him being here, not the distance or the time you've let edge you apart, but the fact that it's changed things. peter has changed and you've just let that happen. he's got a life seperate from you and there's no one to blame. he'd reached out enough, initially. months of letting his calls go to voicemail and ignoring may when you saw her in the street.

putting yourself back together in the misshaped way you are now. peter probably doesn't even recognize you--not like this.

maybe it's your fault.

but you find yourself nodding anyway, ignoring the guilt seeping through the cracks of you. you nod, and peter's face changes.

it's not the first time you've noticed his eyes, or watched relief ease into him, but it's just the same.

"yes?" peter asks, his voice rough and dry. you look at that jacket again.

"where's your coat?"

"my..." peter looks down with you. "oh, my coat. all of the ones aunt may kept were too small, and i thought--" he scratches his neck. "well, i forgot how cold it gets."

you nod, slowly.

peter nods back.

you stare at him a moment longer, and then break away from his unfamiliar gaze.

"just give me five minutes. i just need to put this away, and grab my stuff, and..." you swallow.

"okay. great. do you want to me wait outside, or should i?" he gestures around, looking as uncomfortable as you've ever seen him.

"you can sit. just--don't get any dirt on the tablebases."

"okay. thank you."

you nod, one last time, and look away from him.

your heart runs circles around peter as he sits at one of your tables, his long legs not fitting beneath it. it taunts you again and again as you try not to notice him breathing, try to ignore him completely.

you dup the mop water, spilling it on your shoes. you wipe down the last counter, the syrup sticking to your hands like a scar. you walk around the shop trying to find something else to do so you can avoid this as long as possible. your feet are cold and your hands feel abnormally dry. maybe you need to go home and shower. maybe you shouldn't be doing this at all.

you sit in the office for a moment, wishing you could watch peter without him knowing. scope him out before you hear what he has to say.

and--

okay, maybe there's a part of you that's been waiting three years for this.

that dream where he's there even though you don't want him; that moment when he apologizes and you forgive him automatically, because your heart has always been small and fragile around him; that fantasy where peter comes home and he's the same teenager you used to walk around town with at two in the morning, the same brown eyes laughing as you both slipped on ice and fell on top of eachother.

you won't deny that you've thought about this before. what you might say to him if you got the chance.

but as you grab your bag and hang your apron around the chair in the office, the words have gone some place else. what could you say to him to make any of this make sense?

still, you clear your throat when you walk out, feet aching from standing all day. you blink at him as he struggles to get up, pushing your chair in, the legs scratching on the floor the only sound between the two of you.

166 notes · View notes

fandomnerd9602 · 4 months

Text

Peter 3: I wanna fight an alien!

Peter 1: okay. I can set up a match between you and Y/N, my best friend.

Venom!Y/N lands right next to Peter 1…

Y/N: hey Peter what’s up?

Peter 1: Peter 3 wants to fight an alien

Peter 3: uhh…

Y/N: cool! when can we fight?

Peter 3: I-I don’t wanna fight an alien anymore.

Y/N: wuss!

149 notes · View notes

clean-bands-dirty-stories · 5 months

Text

Rough Waters ~ P.P.

A/n: Added a little bit more than what the request asked for. Hope you like it!

Request: “Tasm!peter x male reader, where Pete and reader been having a rough time in their relationship to where Peter asks if reader wants to break up” by anon

Word Count: 1700+

MASTERLIST

"Where have you been?"

Peter frozen, mask in hand as he heard his partner's voice. He turned slowly - like a teenager caught coming home past curfew. He hesitated, analyzing their expression and body language to try to grasp whether they were anxious or angry. What time was it? He was in costume - they knew exactly where he'd been, which meant the problem was something else. Had he forgotten an anniversary or birthday? A performance? Had he stayed out too late and forgotten to message his boyfriend?

There were too many possibilties.

Y/n was especially hard to read tonight, which meant he was even more upset than usual. Peter braced himself. "Out."

That was not the right thing to say. Y/n's face turned a light shade of red as he tried very hard to keep calm and talk slowly. Calmly. "Okay. I'll give you that one." His eyes dropped to Peter's suit and for a second the most visceral rage crossed his face, before he smoothed it out again and met Peter's eyes. "I'm assuming you forgot then."

Peter shrugged, defensive. Always defensive. "I've got a lot going on Y/n, I forget."

"You forget," Y/n scoffed. The words curled from his lips like they were almost laughable, almost offensive. "I know you forget Peter. You forget, a lot."

He swallowed, wringing his mask. He felt cornered and he never responded well when he felt cornered. "What did I forget? Don't just leave it up in the air."

The calm coming from Peter seemed to make Y/n angrier. "No. I'm not going to remember everything for you. And don't you dare-" He rushed as Peter went to argue again, cutting him off before he could. "-start with me about how busy you are. I know you are busy Peter Benjamin." Ooh, middle name. This was very bad then. "If it was something I at least cared about I'd let it slide. I'm more than used to that. But May?"

His words hurt, but nothing knocked the breath out of his lungs like thinking he'd let May down. "What? Y/n you can't hold this from me, what did I forget?"

Y/n scoffed, turning away and heading further into the apartment. He seemed done with the conversation.

Peter wasn't though. He chased his boyfriend, his own anger growing. This wasn't something they could work through together - May was waiting for something from him. Y/n was holding him back from doing something for his aunt. This wasn't a small thing - this was huge. May didn't know Peter was Spider-Man. Had Y/n given him an excuse again? Was she okay? "Y/n-" He reached out, grabbing his boyfriend's arm in a desperate attempt to get him to stop.

Usually Y/n would pull away from him, spin around and start going off. Reprimand him and tell him everything and then they'd argue and after a while maybe cry and then they'd hold each other because it felt like their relationship was falling through their fingers. They did it every time anything went wrong - it was habit. Easy to play out. Every step was expected. Pre-written.

Except Y/n just stopped walking away. He froze, feet together, still looking away from Peter. It was so unexpected, so cold and far away, that it made Peter panic more than he'd ever panicked in their relationship before. He was stiff solid for a beat before he was falling forward, feet tripping to keep up as he made his way around Y/n. The man's eyes were blank. Empty. There was no anger on his face anymore, just... emptiness. He look exhausted.

"Y/n-" Peter began.

"It was May's birthday."

There was a long silence. It went on maybe even too long as Peter's will to fight suddenly left him. It was immediately gone - like a light switch turned off. He had been forgetful recently, scattered and distant. But.. surely he wouldn't forget that. Not something so important. He'd always rushed to keep himself busy. Work, Spider-Man, relationship. Or... arguing. Fighting. Had that really been every part of his life recently? Sure he did other things -

But, no. He couldn't think of a single other thing he'd done. Sleep, eat, shower, brush teeth, work, Spider-Man, come home and argue. When had arguing become part of the routine? When had the days started to blend together, every single one identical to the last? How had so much time passed without him even realizing it?

How long had they been like this?

He looked at Y/n, a horrible feeling sinking in his skin, settling in his rib cage. An ache. "We're not working anymore, are we?" He knew why Y/n didn't fight this time. Why he'd given up. There was nothing to fight for. Not when all they did was argue.

Y/n didn't even sigh, or shrug. He just sat on the bed. No hands through his hair. He didn't seem angry of frustrated or even sad. Just tired. It was more of an answer than he could have ever given with words. "We haven't worked for a very long time, Peter."

Peter sat on the other side of the bed, mask still in his hands, dangling between his legs. They sat like that for a very long time, backs to each other. It seemed silly, but he had to ask it out loud. "Do you want to break up?" His voice sounded heavy, hollow. It didn't even shock him. He realized it still hurt... but he'd seen this coming for a long time. That was why he was avoiding it, after all. He didn't want to address it. He had always been one to bury his head and pretend nothing was wrong.

This time Y/n did sigh. "Yeah." No argument. No fight. Just one, single word. It was so final, Peter didn't say anything else. He didn't even look up as the weight on the bed lifted and a few sounds here and there began to be made. A zipper, drawers opening and closing, a few doors opening and closing. Until - "You were worth it. In the end. I'm glad we got the time we did." A pause and then, "Peter?" When he didn't say anything, Y/n went silent. Then the bedroom door closed, and the apartment door opened, and then closed again.

The rest of the night was silent.

The daycare was loud. Peter was only here because May had asked him for a favor. Her neighbor had been caught up with something and needed someone to pick up her son. The first time had been a few months ago, and he had volunteered to pick the kid up for her as often as he could since then. It helped her out and... and...

Y/n was helping Michael - the child Peter was supposed to pick up - with his jacket. Y/n had kneeled down, and was laughing at some story Michael was telling. He looked breathtaking. All the weight from his shoulders gone, seeming to have slept very well. Brighter than before. He looked up when Peter approached, and not a lick of recognition was in his eyes. Peter thought back to the other world, with the two other Peters and the villains they'd fought together. The spell that would send everyone home and make everyone forget about Peter Parker.

Everyone.

He swallowed, forcing himself to collect himself. Y/n's eyes light up in the way they always did when he was looking at something he found wonderful. Or someone attractive. They'd seen each other from a distance so often. Y/n was usually busy with one of the other kids who favored him, a little girl with green eyes that always begged him to help her get her shoes on. Today she was with one of the other teachers though. Peter tried to dismiss the thought that Y/n might have arranged this on purpose.

"Hey little dude," he greeted Michael first, grinning as the toddler waddled up to him, hands reaching up. Peter scooped him up. Michael launched into a story about play time where they'd pretended to be Spider-Man. Peter felt his heart warm. He'd only been back from the other world for a year - and undoing his tarnished reputation had been hard work. But some people saw the old Spider-Man, and they were slowly opening up to him again. Glad to see him doing better. Some people didn't - but some people never would have in the first place, so he didn't hold it against himself too harshly.

In the middle of the story, Y/n chuckled. "Right?" Michael asked the teacher, as if remembering he was there for the first time. "You got the bad guy!"

Y/n blushed. The way Michael had been telling the story, Peter had assumed the boy had been playing Spider-Man. But, in that moment, it clicked that Y/n had been playing the hero, leaving the mischievous villain to the youth. "Spider-Man always gets the bad guy. That's what heroes do." Peter's breath caught. he hadn't heard Y/n call him a hero in a very long time. His unknowing ex looked over, suddenly sheepish "Sorry, I know- um- not a lot of people approve of Spider-Man. I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay," Peter was quick to reassure. "His mom is a fan of Spider-Man. But even if she wasn't, I wouldn't rat you out." He winked, as if they were conspirators, and he watched Y/n's face turn red. It was so easy to pick up on all their little hints and expressions - they were still so familiar to him. He hadn't forgotten a single detail of them, even after all this time. He had gone to another world, cleaned up his act, and even started therapy.

Maybe a second chance wouldn't be too out of the question. He could do it better this time.

"A trust worthy guy," Y/n mused. "Does he keep his promises?"

Peter thought on it. Y/n had said something similar the first time he had flirted with Peter too. He'd follow it up with, 'maybe you can promise me dinner then?' or something. But it was a real question - one Peter hadn't taken seriously enough the first time it was asked. "I try to."

Y/n's face light up with a smile. "Maybe you could promise we a coffee and if you succeed keeping that one, we can make a few more after that."

It was better than last time, so quickly on a better foot already. Peter smiled. "Yeah. I'd love that."

Y/n had been right the night he'd left. Peter was glad they'd met, and their love was worth all of the mess they'd gone through to experience it. This time, Peter would try harder though. This time it would work. He was sure of it.

Male Readers: @ravenpuff-oli @sortzz @fadedver

#male reader #peter parker x male reader #peter 3 x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #Peter Parker #Peter 3 #tasm Peter Parker #tasm #the amazing spider man x reader #the amazing spider man x male reader #the amazing spider man imagine #the amazing Spider-Man #dc #dc x male reader #dc imagine #dc x reader

225 notes · View notes

linusbenjamin · 2 years

Photo

The Amazing Spider-Man 2 2014 | dir. Marc Webb

#the amazing spider man 2 #marvel #marveledit #filmedit #andrew garfield #userdiana #tuserpolly #userelizabethgillies #nikolatexla #them <3

1K notes · View notes

baltharino · 9 months

Text

#i want to put him in a little glass box <3 #the amazing spider-man #the amazing spiderman #tasm #peter parker #andrew garfield #filmedit #cinematv #dailytvfilmgifs #gif #gifset #spiderman #spider-man #ok I didnt follow ALL the advice in my prev post. only the 'add noise' part but look at me boy!#gonna explore the rest of the tutorial in a mo :3 #dailyflicks #live action

283 notes · View notes

fightingdragonswithwho · 1 year

Text

Andrew Garfield as Peter Parker in: The Amazing Spider-Man (2012) for @writingquillsandpainpills <3

#peter parker #the amazing spider man #andrew garfield #peterparkeredit #andrewgarfielddaily #user-clara #marveldaily #userteigr #marveladdicts #userjoss #dailymarvelstudios #fyispiderverse #dailyflicks #cinematv #filmedit #moviegifs #love you bestie <3 #.qp.

767 notes · View notes

asterias-record-shop · 1 year

Note

bingo square: out of their league with tasm!peter using prompt 3.

i know one of the things about peter is he’s unaware of how appealing he is but i have idea stuck in my head

you and peter having been dating for a bit and you’re only familiar with his friends and vice versa like you guys know of each other and have exchanged greetings in passing but have never had the opportunity to get to know you

so when the opportunity does present itself (maybe at a party?) they’re stunned by everything they’ve learned about you and your personality basically a ‘woah our friend is great but your woah’ and he gets somewhat possessive and jealous

i like the idea of sitting on peter’s lap and teasing him until he lets you cockwarm him or the party dies down and barely anyone is there and he fucks you with his friends hearing (or watching 👀) and it ends with you leading him out the door to go home and your both marked up with hickeys and he has your lipstick on him + peter telling his friends that he knows he got lucky and how it’s something they’ll never about

—𓆩[cupid’s arrow]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - TASM! Peter Parker x Fem! Rich! Cheerleader! Girlfriend! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, maybe slight angst?

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 3.2K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - You were surprised when you found out that Peter fucking Parker was single, and you quickly fixed that. It was a surprise to everyone, especially him, when they found out you were interested in him - the head cheerleader and a physics nerd? Even then though, when a party occurs and his friends get to know more about you and think you’re so fucking cool — a wasted Peter gets jealous of how much they have your attention.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - cursing & foul language || definitely mixed up multiverses with friends, and added more || reader is reader wears makeup and revealing clothing || the nerd and the cheerleader trope has my heart || reader calls father ‘daddy’ nonsexually || party || shotgunning || reader smokes || drugs and alcohol || Peter really gets into this party mood because you’re having so much fun, therefore he gets wasted because he drinks and smokes || public groping & grinding || cock warming in public || slight voyeurism and exhibitionism? || marking kink || creampie || riding || multiple orgasms || multiple positions ||

“I think… we should go eat here for lunch,” you suggest, looking up at him as he stares down at you, the glasses on his face falling down his nose making you giggle, pushing them up. “Sounds good, right? I know high-end isn’t really your scene, but daddy’s friend just opened it up and the sushi looks like it’s to die for.”

“I-I uhm… I think that sounds good, I just got paid so-” he paused when you started giggling, looking down at you confused. “What’s wrong?”

“You don’t have to pay, sweetie. I don’t even have to pay, daddy has a tab there and we can get whatever we want. Besides, I have no practice today, so we have time!”

He smiled, but sighs. “When do I get to treat you, hm? It’s… it’s not fair. We always go to your house, your spots… I don’t get to do anything for you.”

You sit up, your shirt riding up your tummy and your skirt exposing your thighs. “What do you mean? Am… am I doing something wrong? I-I know I have problems with taking over things, am I doing that? I’m sorry-”

He shakes his head, quickly cupping your face. “No honey, of course not… it’s just, I don’t think it’s fair. I never get to spoil you… or bring you to my apartment or buy you lunch… Does that make you annoyed? Do I do enough for you?”

You stare at him, jaw slack before you start to laugh. “Peter! Are you insane?! I love you, I don’t care how much you spend on me, I like spending on you. I love going to your apartment, I love Aunt May, but I just like taking you to my house because we have more privacy. I like you living with me, don’t you want to move in with me? I’ve been meaning to ask you that…”

Peter pauses, staring at you. “You want me to move in with you?”

You giggle. “Well yeah… we’ve known each other for years, been dating for two… it’s not that weird, is it?”

He shook his head. “N-No, but… if I move in with you, I need to help with your bills and stuff. I’m not going to let you pay for everything.”

You laugh. “Peter, why would I let you pay for something I don’t even pay for? You… just have to stay with me,” you slowly move to sit in his lap, pushing back his hair as you giggled. “And love me. Besides, you would be the best boyfriend ever if you moved in with me.”

He hummed, nodding as he pulled you closer. “I will, honey, I will. I’ll do anything you want me to.”

You giggle, tugging on his hair. You had him wrapped around your finger, and you loved it just as much as you loved him. You pulled him closer, about to press a kiss to his lips before someone yelled his name. “Peter? Peter, oh my god, hey!”

You pulled away, smiling when you saw Gwen. “Oh, it’s Gwen. You should talk to her, invite your friends out to lunch with us!”

Peter almost groaned when he saw Gwen, Ned, MJ, and Harry walking toward them. He loved them, he did, but fuck could they leave? He was about to be kissed by you until he couldn’t breathe and your lipstick stained his lips, could they go? “Oh, hey guys!”

“Peter, we haven’t seen you in a while! Hey Y/N!” Gwen looks at you as you pull your legs under your butt, smiling at her.

“Hey Gwen! How are you guys, have y’all eaten lunch? Peter and I were just about to go.”

“Oh no, we just came from lunch, but thank you! How are y’all?” She sits down, the rest following as you shrug.

“We’re good! Peter and I were just talking about how he’s going to move in with me soon” you answer, humming. “I’m thinking next Friday. Oh, and we can have a party too! You guys should come, it’s going to be a… Peter's welcome party!”

MJ hummed. “You like to party, don’t you?”

“Oh who doesn't!” You giggled, humming. “It’ll be great! Besides, my parties are always the best, you guys should really come!”

Peter smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I know it’s been a while since we’ve all gone to a party together… what do y’all think?”

Gwen hums, looking back at everyone as they nod. “Okay! We’ll come.”

You smiled, looking back at Peter. “Perfect.”

It didn’t take Peter long to move in. Aunt May was happy he was getting out of the house, and you were even more happy to have him living with you. He was sleeping in your now shared bed every night, sometimes with his cock shoved deep inside of your cunt and twisting up your guts from how big he was.

Tonight though was Peter Parker’s Welcome Home party. He was home, finally he was home with you, where you have wanted him since you both started dating. Your now shared house was filled with sweaty teens, drunk or high off their asses as you sat with Peter and his friends in the living room, giggling along with Gwen as you held a joint between your fingers.

“You’re lying!” MJ was cackling as she clutched her book, staring at Peter. “Peter fucking Parker chased you down to ask for your number?”

“Yes!” You giggle, covering your mouth to hide your smile as Peter pressed his face into the back of your neck, slurring words into your skin before leaning into your hand and taking a long drag from the joint. “I told him he was hot at the subway station, then of course I had to catch my subway, and then he chased me all the way into the car and had to take a whole other subway to get back to where he wanted to go!”

Gwen laughs as Peter exhaled the smoke against your skin, your body hot even though so much skin was exposed in the skimpy dress you wore that barely went past down your ass and cut low on your chest, and even had a triangle piece of fabric missing from the bottom of your braless tits and lace black underwear. His hands ran along your bare skin as you giggled, leaning into his form as he started pressing lazy, open mouthed kisses to your neck.

“Peter! Why didn’t you introduce us to Y/N earlier, she’s amazing!” Ned laughed as you inhaled deeply with the joint in your mouth, mind going hazy before Peter pulled you back to kiss him.

You exhaled into his mouth, smoke flooding out from where your mouths weren’t connected and his hands groped at your tits. You groaned, humming as he took the joint from your fingers adorned with long acrylics and the base pressed to the thin satin that covered your tits.

“And that’s our cue to leave,” Gwen voiced out, everyone agreeing as you pulled Peter closer.

You groaned against his lips as you tried to turn around, desperate for more of his kisses before he pulled away, his mouth smeared with your lipstick. It was your signature color, one you wore everyday, and it looked fucking amazing on him.

You looked down at the joint in his hand, the fact the two of you were almost done with it saying something. “Want some more, spider boy?” You whisper, grabbing his wrist and taking a long inhale before blowing it into his face and licking his fingers. You hummed loudly, sucking his middle finger into your mouth like a lollipop as you take the joint in your other hand, pulling his finger down your throat before pulling away and moving to his pointer, sucking on the tip before forcing yourself to gag on it, pulling away to see the thick string of saliva. “The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can have some more fun.”

This specific joint was the one you were saving. It wasn’t Peter’s first time, mainly because it didn’t affect him, but this one did because it was of higher quality and had certain things you had disclosed to him before. You told him it was called ‘Cupid’s Arrow’, a stupid name but one that suited the joint filled with aphrodisiacs and a cherry flavored strain and he agreed immediately because of how excited you were.

You didn’t smoke very often, only on special occasions, and today was one of them.

It didn’t take long for you both to finish the joint, Peter slipping the remainder into a drink next to him as your lips continued their assault on his own, tongue pushing into his mouth and lipstick smearing all over his lips. He whined as you pulled away, humming as you tilted your head back and his mouth pressed against your neck before you gasped.

“Peter! I love this song, come on!” You tugged him off the comfort of the couch, a smile on his stained lips even though his boner was on show before you tugged him in front of you to firmly press against your body. “Dance with me, Peter.”

You’re both pushed together even closer from the rest of the sweaty bodies around you, but they knew better than to get close to you and Peter. He turned you around, his hands holding your hips as he bent his knees to press his cock between your thighs, his erection poking into your soaked panties as your hands pushed behind your head to hold his and pull him even closer.

It doesn’t take long for the drugs to actually kick in, mixing with the alcohol, your body finally cooling down as you rocked your hips back into Peter’s. He groaned loudly into your ear, hands shaking as they pushed underneath the fabric that barely covered your chest, groping and letting his fingertips swipe over your hard nipples.

You groaned loudly as you tilted your head back, your body starting to grow hot as you rocked into him with urgency, the feeling of his large, blunt tip rubbing against your pussy too much to handle. You whined loudly as he pulled you closer, desperate to feel your body against his as you groaned into his mouth when he pulled you in for a kiss. He pulled away to press firm kisses to your neck, smearing the same lipstick he had on his lips against your skin as you pulled out that same golden, expensive tube and a handheld mirror to reapply it.

His reflection caught your eye, his mouth pressing firmly to your neck and sucking against your skin while groping at your tits from underneath your dress. You tilted your head back as you slip the tube and mirror back into the waistband of your dress, eyes rolling back as his thumbs slid over your hard nipples and his hot mouth sucking against your skin made everything hazy.

Neither of you registered the people around you, your mouth pressing kisses to his cheek before sucking hickies against his jaw, slight saltiness from the thin sheen of sweat on both of your bodies. Both of you were grinding against each other like there was no tomorrow, the tip of his cock rubbing against your clothed sex making your body even hotter.

“Fuck,” you cursed, groaning as he squeezed at your tits before slowly guiding you both back to the couch where you straddled his thighs and were quick to unbutton his pants. You tugged the zipper down as you set your lipstick and mirror down on the table as he easily slipped off your underwear, throwing it to the side as you pushed yourself up so you could guide his cock into you.

This wasn’t the first time the two of you had raw sex, but it was definitely the first time you were both high off your asses. “Wait, wait,” you whisper, balancing yourself by holding his chest. “Is this okay?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, nodding vigorously. “More than okay. So much more than okay.”

You giggled as you leaned forward, pressing your lips against his as he slowly pushed his cock between your legs, letting his blunt tip slide up and down your slit before finally pushing up into you. Your head falls back, groans echoing around the room as he bucked his hips.

You felt wetter than you’ve ever been, your cunt squelching as he slowly pushed into you, his face pressed against your neck as he groaned loudly. He gasped as you slowly began to sink down on him, your pretty face scrunched in all the right ways and tears pricking your eyes made him groan loudly, his hips bucking into you.

He didn’t even know that he came until you felt something inside of you, that same sticky feeling flooding down your thighs as you groaned, attempting to push lower on his cock as he grunted. “Did you just cum?”

He pauses, looking down. “I-I think so…”

“But you’re still hard?” You whispered, ducking down to kiss his neck and continue sucking on his skin. “Guess that Cupid’s Arrow really did something, huh baby?”

He hummed, nodding. “I swear, you feel so much fucking better than I could ever imagine. I don’t know if it’s the drugs or if it’s you, but I swear I can fucking feel everything.”

You giggled. “You’re sure it’s not your spidey senses?”

He groaned, shaking his head as he held your hips and angled his own to thrust up into you with a loud groan. “N-No, my… my spidey-sex-drive is up or something… I feel everything, your pussy clenching and all of your slick dripping down my cock… I swear I can feel you stretch out with every thrust. Please, please I need to fuck you so bad.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” You whisper, one of his hands pushing up the chest area of your dress and letting your tits fall out. He pauses his thrusting, making you whine, grabbing a folded blanket to throw it over your shoulders.

“I need more. Fucking hell, I need to feel as much as I can of you, but this body is only mine to see. You’re mine.”

You groaned into his ear, gasping as you held the back of his head, rocking your hips into his to match every thrust. You could barely think about anything else but his cock ramming into you, the almost infinite feeling of riding your orgasm making your mind blurry. Have you cum yet? Peter always knew when you came, he would feel a lightning bolt down his spine and would giggle softly, but with the amount he was shaking in pleasure you didn’t know.

You could feel his cock being easily let into your deepest parts, the aphrodisiacs must’ve had something to do with loosening you up and making arousal spew from you like a fountain. Or maybe it was cum? Who knew at this point, you couldn’t think of anything else but Peter who was covered in your lipstick and hickies, his cock buried inside of you, balls deep and his cum leaking out of your pussy before he pounded it straight back in.

He groaned into your neck, gasping as another shock ran down his back, his hands slamming you down on his cock as you panted into his ear. “F-Fuck, Y/N, I can’t stop… I can’t stop my hips, I can’t stop fucking you.”

You shake your head against his neck, whimpering. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Your body was hot, the only relief was his cock inside of you and you didn’t want it to stop anytime soon. You didn’t care that you both were fucking mid-party, it was your house, your couch, your boyfriend. If anyone had a problem with it, they could leave.

You gasped as he grabbed your hips, flipping the two of you over so you were on your back, his hands sliding a pillow under your hips to support you before going straight back to your tits. You groaned as you pushed your hands under his shirt, the blanket covering both of your bodies as his mouth stayed on yours, barely pulling away to even breathe.

Peter couldn’t help it, whatever the hell was in that joint made him infatuated. His hips thrusted as hard as he could, desperate to be inside of you as much as he could while you rocked your hips to match his thrusts, desperate to reach a climax in your high. You had cum at least three times from what Peter could actually process, but like him, the permanent high of ecstasy wasn’t enough when the both of you needed to hit that climax.

Your moans filled his ears as the couch started to creak, his mouth hot on your neck and collarbone to mark you up as though someone would try to take you. He couldn’t stop leaving all those hickies all over your body, how could he when everyone needed to know you belonged to him? Besides, after this and everyone seeing him fuck you until you saw stars, everyone would definitely know he was your boyfriend, soon to be fiancée as soon as he found the perfect ring for you.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your thrusts meeting his as his cock slammed into you, wet slaps and squelches filling the room that could’ve been full of spectators — not that either of you cared.

You didn’t know when he stopped, panting above you as you hold his head and rake your fingers through his hair, admiring the mess of hickies and lipstick marks that you left. You pulled him down for another firm kiss, humming as you pulled away and he followed your lips. “We should get a dog.”

He laughed, titling his head to the side to press kisses to your neck, seeing all of his friends in the corner gaping at you both. “Whatever you want, honey.”

omg, I love fulfilling requests ♡ keep them coming for Bingo!!

Bingo tag 𓆩[@ennycutie]𓆪 𓆩[@yoongiwife23]𓆪 𓆩[@urlocalbum12-blog]𓆪

566 notes · View notes